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mrssimply · 2 years

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12:Perfect

I decided to do a fic advent calendar this year, and idea that was given to me by Bones a.k.a Riots from the Totentanz Discord Server.

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

This one is (once again) for @rockerboyrepo :D

Friend, didn't we all wonder what to gift Kerry... The man has everything except maybe being loved back by Johnny (I know, I going straight for the jugular) but in my fics, he even gets that most of the time (though with the usual trials that accompagny loving a man like Johnny). So apart from that, what to get him, what to get him... Well, last year I asked myself the exact same question and wrote something which I didn't finish nor publish in the end.

So when this idea was part of your prompts, I jumped on the opportunity to finally give it life!

Technically, it is also the follow up to This is my Last Symphony but I didn't list it as such 'cause you can absolutely read this as a stand alone.

Once again, thank you for being in this fandom with me, and for the prompt, which was: "The perfect present for a man who has everything: V and Johnny put their heads together to try and figure out what to get a guy who seemingly has it all [silverVdyne]"

Mind the E-rating ;)

Johnny is putting the final touch to the big joint he’s been making when V bursts through the glass doors leading to the terrace. Rolling on his back, naked as the day he was born, Johnny decides to ignore him and light the blunt with a long inhale.

“Johnny!” V pants as he takes the stairs two by two. “Johnny, it’s Christmas next week.”

Blowing out the smoke, Johnny looks to the side, to the radio displaying the time and date on the small bedside table. It’s indeed a week before christmas.

“I swear it jumped on me, how can christmas already be in a week?!” V continues, crawling over the bed until he is at Johnny’s level. He takes the dope from him and takes a long drag before relaxing next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Johnny rolls his eyes but lets him. He hadn’t planned on sharing that one, but as a general rule, V considers all of Johnny’s things as his and vice versa. Hell, they shared a brain, so what were socks, drugs, or a partner after that?

“I’m not in your head anymore, so care to tell me what’s up with the sudden frenzy?” Johnny asks, stealing the weed back.

V turns to him again, bright eyes wide with excitement and a touch of anxiety.

“Gifts, Johnny. Gifts! I don’t have any! I… Fuck. What do I get Kerry?” he mutters, curling over Johnny to reach for the blunt. Johnny moves it away from him with a cluck of his tongue and V pouts but relents, or so it seems. The moment the resurrected man takes another drag, the young man straddles him, inhaling the billowing smoke as it drifts out of his mouth. Their lips brush and a teasing smile blooms over V’s face. Then he perks up, distracted by another thought.

“What are you getting Kerry?!”

“I’m fucking him three times a day, I would say that’s a gift enough,” comes the laconic reply.

V snorts.

“First, we are fucking him three times a day, and two, it’s not fucking.”

Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.”

“It’s called making love, J, come on, you can say it! After me: I, Johnny Silverhand, make love to Kerry Eurodyne three times a day.” But the end of the sentence is muffled against Johnny’s metal hand as the man tries to stop V from teasing him further. The young man’s laugh turns to a plaintive moan when the hand tightens over his mouth and he just goes lax, submitting strategically. Johnny releases him, gaze turning covetous as he pushes his chrome thumb into V's mouth.

A curious tongue swipes over his finger, and sends a shiver down the rocker’s spine, distracting him from watching V’s expression turn sly.

“Wait, what are you getting me?” the merc wonders and rolls his eyes when he sees Johnny’s smirk come back full force.

“I’m fucking you three times a day.”

“You wish it was three times a day, old man, but you can barely last two rounds before you fucking fall asleep.”

In answer, Johnny blows smoke at his face.

“You’re exhausting, V, like a damn puppy.”

With a smirk, V wiggles his ass in a poor imitation of an eager dog. It works, making Johnny snort and push his face away when the young merc starts lapping at his face.

“That’s really gross,” he growls, before rolling them over and pinning V under him. The man melts against the mattress, legs opening immediately to cradle Johnny’s hips. He arches back slightly in an enticing display, and his partner is not immune; it makes his eyes darken in a way V finds really hot.

Johnny puts the joint in the ashtray on the bed table before kissing V with teasing bites and slow playful swipes of tongue. V’s hands tangle in Johnny’s dark and silver hair as the kiss intensifies, prompting a sweet sigh out of him. They rock lazily together, all the while their hands stroke lascivious caresses over their skin.

Until V pushes Johnny away with a last moan.

“Come on, we gotta have a gift. It was a shitty year for him.”

“It was a shitty year for everyone,” Johnny replies, pushing his hips against the hardening bulge in V’s pants.

“Exactly, all the more reason to make it special.”

Johnny stops, sighs and groans before glaring at the merc.

“I won’t be caught dead participating in this farce engineered by corpos to make us buy things we don’t need, made in horrible conditions, to offer to people we don’t like, all the while perpetuating the tradition of a mythical elf – that used to be green and not red, you can thank Nicola for that by the way – that supposedly brings gifts to children all around the world, a tale rich parents tell their kids to appease them when they start asking questions about the inequities of the world. And if not that, then it’s the birth of a fabulated savior to the human race that marked the beginning of one of the most belligerent religions in the world, that promoted the superiority of men over women, and hated everything from queer people to shrimps, but most of all, hated pleasure in any form.”

Silence welcomes his words before V bursts with laughter and though Johnny knows he should feel pretty offended by that, he can’t help but smile fondly. V’s mood is, as always, contagious. During the first months after his rebirth, Johnny thought these kinds of events were leftovers from the relic. But as time went on, while the connection persisted, Johnny came to recognise its true nature. It’s love that makes V’s moods so powerful over him, and he kinda still hates that, but can’t really fight it anymore. If he ever could.

“Oh my god, did you hear yourself?” V askes between hiccups. “This is brilliant, you sounded so angry and condescending and… grumpy! Oh, the righteous outrage! Oh, the justified anger! How dare I suggest you celebrate such an epitome of corporate mass manipulation with your partners!” the young man declares with a posh accent.

Pushing on his knees, Johnny shoves his organic hand in V's face before scooting to the edge of the bed, reaching for his pants. V just ruined the nap he intended to take after the smoke.

“Aw come on, don’t go,” V whines, rolling and crawling to Johnny before hugging him from behind. His gun callused hands drift over the scars on his left side, and over the two on his belly. Souvenirs from the wars he fought and lost. “I could make it up to you,” V suggests with a smoky voice, kissing Johnny’s nape and biting the knobs of his spine.

The other man snorts.

“You want to give Kerry the perfect gift?” he asks, knowing he is going to regret this to the end of his second life.

“Yes!” The merc perks up.

Johnny pushes out of his arms and stands to put his tank top on. V straightens and looks at him with both hope and suspicion.

“You have an idea,” he guesses while following Johnny down the stairs, “you’ve thought about it, haven’t you? Such a hypocrite, of course, you have. You put way too much thought into it, actually, didn’t you? So what is it? Do tell me! Hey, are you blushing? Are you fuckin’ blushing J?” V repeats, bewildered, as a sly smile stretches his lips, “What, it’s kinky? No way. What would make the great, unflappable Johnny Silverhand blush?!”

It’s not kinky – well, not much – but it’s romantic, and Johnny hates that. He told V, and then Kerry, that he wouldn’t do romance with either of them, and even less with both of them. They could keep their cheesy dates and sweet little PDAs to themselves. Johnny Silverhand didn’t do romance. Except on Christmas, apparently.

It’s not even particularly fancy, or glamorous, and certainly not original. But it’s out of character enough that it feels special. So, after a good dose of teasing, V lets him be and goes along with it. He’s actually glad Johnny is actively working on making Kerry happy, because the gods know he needs to make up for bad behavior where the musician is concerned.

By the twenty-fourth, they are ready, and V is giddy with anticipation. That morning, he made sure Kerry put on his good black leather pants, the ones that screams “I’ll look even better naked” and if the musician was a bit suspicious, V used the early hour to his advantage. Kerry is not really human before his second coffee cup so he let V choose his pants for him without more than a frown.

Later that day, Johnny sends Kerry a text saying they will pick him up at six from his meeting at the label, and they actually show on time thanks to Junior. The Delamain AI was more than happy to break a few circulation rules to make sure they reached Kerry at the appointed time.

The worldwide star eyes the taxi with a cautious expression, his gaze turning even more surprised when he gets in and takes a look at his inputs. They are dressed to the nines, which means very different things for both of them. Johnny is wearing a clean pair of black jeans, new boots that shine in the passing lights, and a dark gray shirt with a jacket on top. The three first buttons are left open, showing a glimpse of his faithful dog tags. He’s also wearing his aviators, and his usual teasing smirk. What makes Kerry raise his eyebrow is the new haircut: shaved on one side and jaw length on the other.

“That’s new,” Kerry comments, blue eyes flickering all over him. “Why are you dressed like this? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” Johnny replies mysteriously, blowing out the smoke from his cigarette.

Between them, V bends to kiss Kerry’s neck and the man unconsciously tilts his head to leave him more room. The merc is wearing tight fitting dark blue jeans, rolled up above his ankles, a white shirt and a green jacket that matches his eyes perfectly. It’s a lot more flashy than Johnny’s suit, but then again, V’s fashion sense is generally terrible. Tonight, he made an effort, down to his simple and clean white sneakers. Kerry looks him up and down with an approving smile, which then fades into slight anxiety.

“I feel underdressed,” he comments.

With a triumphant smile, V produces a bag that contains a sleeveless cream coloured turtle neck top and a long black shawl. The top fits Kerry perfectly, displaying his lithe musculature and letting the world admire his tattoos. Both Johnny and V watch hungrily as he changes in front of them. The shawl falls to his knees, one side is to be pulled up over the other and pinned with a brooch. Johnny produces a small box that he gently throws at Kerry; it’s a small golden guitar, the details showing its excellent craftsmanship. Kerry turns it in his hands for a moment with an expression of awe. Then, V delicately takes it to pin it in place, finishing with a kiss on his cheek.

“Merry christmas,” he breathes and Kerry closes his eyes for a second before a small, endearing smile blossoms on his lips. He looks at Johnny besides V and mouths a thank you. His old friend shifts and grunts in answer, obviously uncomfortable, but he can’t hide the proud expression on his face.

They stop in Japantown and Kerry perks up when he sees they are in front of a small theater. Advertised on the building is a burlesque show Kerry absolutely wanted to see and Johnny refused to take him to when V said he couldn’t. Christmas Eve is the last representation, and the fact Johnny had no trouble producing tickets clued V on the preparation the man actually put into this gift. He has been at it for months.

“How did you rope him into it?” Kerry asks V with genuine curiosity as they make their way inside.

“I didn’t, it was his idea,” the young man declares with a grin. Next to them, Johnny is resolutely watching the opposite way, shoulders slightly curled.

The show is great. Kerry even catches Johnny smiling and cheering at the performance several times, but holds his tongue. V is ecstatic, hooting and catcalling every time the performers so much as move on the stage, let alone shed a cloth.

After the show, V stirs them to a nearby restaurant where they have a reservation. It’s a compromise between Kerry’s expensive tastes nowaday, Johnny’s refusal to go to high end establishments full of corpos, and V’s absolute lack of palate : he’s been raised on SCSM and his favorite food is tacos. As a result, they don’t do this often but this restaurant hits all the boxes with hand made hamburgers, fries cooked in truffle oil and fancy sauces.

Then, bellies full, they go for drinks. It's not long before Johnny produces pills that make Kerry forget about his long day and want to dance. V and him are soon grinding against each other more than dancing, while Johnny watches over them covetously from the bar. He doesn't dance but he likes to watch as he drinks, like it's his personal show.

When they come back to the villa, the sun is rising, and they smoke a last cigarette on the terrace with the waterfall, watching the sun rise.

“Thanks guys,” Kerry says softly, “that was great.”

Johnny hums and shifts to readjust them on the deckchair. Kerry is seated between his legs, back resting against his chest, with Johnny's arms around his waist. The rockerboy nuzzles under Kerry’s jaw, resting his head on his shoulder like a tamed cat. It won’t last, but the superstar will enjoy it as long as it does. On another chair, V stretches, grins and faces him.

“We got one more gift.”

Kerry looks startled, and then frowns.

“I don’t have anything…”

“Well, you can feel guilty about that tomorrow and torture yourself thinking up the perfect gift. Don’t try to buy me anything with your dirty corp money, Ker,” Johnny adds, speaking the words against his friend’s nape.

Kerry snorts, twists in his arms to give him a deadpan look.

“All my money is dirty corp money, J.”

“Then you can pay for my gift with your body,” is the laconic reply, accompanied by a slight bite on Kerry’s naked shoulder.

“Am I supposed to whore myself out for you?”

“Yep. You can whore yourself out to V, he’ll give you money.”

V rolls his eyes and gets up, giving Kerry a hand.

“Ok, less talk about whoring, more moving upstairs for your final gift.”

V makes Kerry sit on the bed, then kneels in front of him to remove his shoes for him, telling him to get comfortable. The musician looks curious, if slightly worried. He obediently stays put when V rises to his feet to stand next to Johnny, who looks carefully bored. It fools neither of his partners but they wisely don't comment on how tense he actually is. It makes Kerry wonder if his friend was always like that but he couldn’t see it, or if he became better at reading the lines of Johnny’s body, or if the man is less guarded now after everything that happened between him and V.

Contrary to Johnny, V is excited: if he had a tail, it would be wagging. He winks at Kerry before turning to the resurrected rocker to start undressing him. It’s not uncommon, but it’s generally a teamwork where Kerry participates, whereas now he’s just watching and it changes the atmosphere from playful to… reverent.

V’s hands make quick work of Johnny’s shirt and the man finishes the job, removing the cloth as V undoes his belt and unzips his pants. Johnny steps out of them and here he is, naked, half hard and not looking at Kerry.

With a mischievous smile, V makes him turn to present his back to Kerry, and there is the last gift.

In an elegant arc right above Johnny's ass, a sentence is tattooed. The font used looks pretty familiar and Kerry recognises V’s handwriting. In bold, slightly slanted lettering, it says “Propriety of Kerry Eurodyne”.

Kerry doesn’t realize he’s moved until his hands are on Johnny’s hips, bringing the man in for closer inspection. He can’t barely believe it as his thumbs brush the ink but yeah, it looks pretty permanent. He wants to laugh because this is ridiculous, obviously a joke and yet it calls on every one of his possessive instincts and V knows how jealous he can be, how insecure he still is, especially when it comes to Johnny.

“You like it?” V asks, his tone confident, more a statement than a question, “That way he can strays all he wants but people will know who owns his ass.”

“He is fuckin right here,” Johnny grouses, but Kerry hasn’t missed the shiver V’s words brought over his skin.

For the first time, the musician starts believing V when he says that for all his talk about freedom and not being anyone’s slave, Johnny just wants to belong.

The tattoo shifts under Kerry’s hands when Johnny moves to face V again.

“Your turn.”

V ditches his clothes so fast Kerry laughs, and then the kid shows him his ass and it makes the musician laugh even harder. Scrawled in Johnny’s messy handwriting right on top of V’s tailbone is another stamp of ownership. “Kerry was here”, circled by a bold line, with an arrow pointing between V’s asscheeks.

“Awww,” the superstar says, brushing the tattoo with his fingers. V twists to wink at him and then shake his ass, prompting Kerry to lightly slap it. He kisses the tattoo, pushes his forehead against V’s back and circles him with his arms.

“I love you, he mumbles.”

He wishes he could say it louder, to both of them at the same time but he’s still afraid Johnny would mock him and deny it, so for now, he says it quietly, to V, even if it’s addressed to both.

“Love you too,” V replies, casual and sincere about it. He says it so easily, so genuinely, it’s always a surprise to Kerry.

“So? Want to make good use of your toyboys?” the merc asks, turning in his partner’s arms to push him back on the bed. He kisses Kerry’s neck without waiting for an answer, removing the rockstar’s shirt to start sucking on his nipples until they’re hard and sensitive.

“Sure,” Kerry breathes out, eyeing Johnny who’s crawling on the bed to lie beside him. The man kisses him, dirty and wet, coaxing his mouth open. Johnny goes slow, his tongue unhurried as it brushes Kerry’s, and his teeth gentle when he bites and sucks on his lips. Meanwhile, V is trailing kisses down his chest, still pinching his tits until Kerry arches back and spreads his legs with a whine. V takes care of undressing him, covering each patch of skin with more kisses and nips.

“Think you can take us both? Cum inside each one of us to seal the deal?” Johnny teases against Kerry’s lips, prompting a guttural sound out of the man’s throat. He surges up and rolls over Johnny, forcing V to lean back lest he gets a knee in the face. The young man snorts and moves to settle against the headboard, slowly stroking himself and enjoying the show.

Kerry’s hands are everywhere, possessive over Johnny’s skin, his nails leave red marks on the pale flesh, the skin marking easily. Under him, Johnny is writhing, fighting him to regain control, more likely to force him to make him submit, something Kerry is still hesitant to do. But one thing is clear: he wants to fuck Johnny from behind while his hands pans out over the tattoo. He wants to make a mess of him, cum inside him and then watch the result. He’ll deal with V later.

One look from Kerry is all the merc needs to get it. He moans, hand moving over his cock faster for a few moments before another warning glance makes him stop. He pants, knocks his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes to try and calm himself, it’s going to be a long night.

Kerry slaps Johnny lightly on the hip until he rolls on his stomach. He does it with ill grace, still playing the brat. Brusquely, Kerry grabs his hips to force him on all four and Johnny curses but lets him do it without resistance.

“Get under him, V,” Kerry orders while he retrieves the lube. Johnny and V start kissing as soon as the younger man is in position. Kerry watches them do it for a moment, watches Johnny grab V’s short hair to hold him in place with a possessive growl, watches his chrome hand move to the merc’s throat and squeeze lightly.

Kerry doesn’t warn Johnny when he suddenly pushes two fingers in his hole. It makes him curse, growl and thrust against V like he’s trying to escape. The merc holds him down between his thighs and after a few seconds to let Johnny adjust, Kerry starts moving his fingers. The rockerboy’s hole clenches and relaxes around his pointer and major while the man progressively sags against V. His hand relaxes around the merc’s throat and soon he’s panting quietly, eyes fluttering shut.

Devouring him with his gaze, V snakes a hand between their bodies to jerk them off slowly, matching Kerry’s rhythm. It’s not long before Johnny is a shaking mess, but he’s still biting off his moans, still refusing to let go.

“Get the fuck on with it,” he growls after a small eternity. Kerry rolls his eyes and slaps him, hard, on one cheek, then the other, making him slide forward against V, who moans and then chuckles.

“You never learn,” he says with a tone full of affection. Johnny puts his chrome hand over his face, pushing it to the side and making V laughs.

When Kerry starts pushing inside of him, Johnny stops breathing, eyes closed and face slackening. Distracted, he releases V who doesn’t lose a second to watch the show. It’s his favorite part, how Johnny basically melts when he’s taken. It looks so fucking intense, like he’s being tortured instead of just expertly fucked. V strokes his lover’s face, shushing him gently when he curses as Kerry bottoms out.

For his part, the man is mesmerized by the tableau of his cock inside Johnny’s hole. It’s not new, though it’s still rare, but the tattoo makes it all different. That Johnny let V write that on his skin, that he had someone ink it permanently, that he’s letting Kerry put his calloused hands all over it. It’s real, it’s forever, it drives Kerry mad.

He starts thrusting, not slow, not careful, he can’t, he just wants to possess him. Everything left unsaid between them gets channeled into his rough rhythm. Under them, V is grinning wildly, eyes alight with happiness and something a touch feral. His hands rise to Johnny’s throat and tighten slowly, inch after inch, until Johnny is moaning, until he can’t utter a sound, until he can barely breathe. Then V releases him, and starts again when the oxygene rush is still fogging Johnny’s mind.

“Fuck,” Johnny rasps with what little breathe he has while V’s hands close again. “Please,” he mouths but the merc only gives him a devious smile.

“Let go,” he advises and Johnny glares, but it’s weak. His gaze turns glazed when Kerry changes the angle, making each drag of his cock brushes Johnny’s prostate. The way his friend is moving means he gets no reprieve from the sensation.

“Like that, huh?” Kerry says on the edge of mean. He’s flushed, sweat glistening over his temples and he keeps tracing V’s handwriting over Johnny’s skin. Biting his lips, he puts a hand in Johnny’s hair to wrench his head back. It makes it even easier for V to choke him, which he does happily, until Johnny can’t do anything but take it.

With a whimper and a shudder, Johnny finally surrenders. His body becomes pliant, back arched in a painful manner, legs spread apart and no thoughts left behind his blown out eyes. He looks high on Lace, V thinks, counting the seconds in his head to release Johnny right before he blacks out. Johnny is fuckin’ pretty like this, mouth open and glistening with saliva, tongue pushed out and eyes fluttering slower and slower. Kerry can’t see it, but he can feel how much more relaxed Johnny is, can feel him shiver and can still hear his little grunts. The musician bends over his partner, crushing him against V, making their cocks slide harder against one another.

He can’t control himself when pleasure becomes stark in his mind, when the world suddenly shrinks until it’s only his cock inside Johnny’s ass, and V’s eyes peeking at him over their playmate’s shoulder. Kerry loses all coordination, hips thrusting madly. V tightens his hands around Johnny’s throat one last time and squeezes hard, doesn't let up until Johnny comes with a full body shudder.

He’s silent nearly to the end, until he lets out a sound like he never did, something broken and ripped out of his sore throat. Kerry curses, pushes his face against Johnny's sweaty nape and bites him. It makes the man clench around him again and that's it. Kerry moans against his friend's skin and bucks into him one last time before coming too. V looks at them both crash into their climaxes and smiles wickedly. He pets Johnny gently and then Kerry when he sags over them, too, still shivering with the leftovers of his orgasm. The merc would probably get crushed under their combined weight if it weren’t for the chrome in his body. As it is, it just feels nice. They are cute, his two old men.

After a minute or two, Kerry moves, slow and with a lot of sigh and grunts. His hands trail over Johnny’s back to the tattoo again before he spreads the man’s cheeks and grins proudly.

“There, all mine… Ours,” he amends when V gives him an amused look.

“Oh, I think right now, he’s all yours, yep.”

Johnny doesn’t reply, focusing on breathing, basking in the afterglow with a stupid smile on his face. He’s languid, absolutely fucked out and lets V manhandle him on his back without a fuss.

“Did we fry your brain?” V finally asks when Kerry is gone to fetch a damp cloth. He gets a finger for his trouble and snorts, Johnny is fine.

Once he’s cleaned up, the rockerboy seems to regain some awareness, enough to stretch with a blissful groan.

Outside, the sun is clearly up, so Kerry adjusts the settings of the smart glass to give them obscurity.

“Don’t think I forgot about you,” he says to V who was settling for sleep against Johnny.

“Now?” he merc asks.

“It’s still Christmas, I intend to enjoy my gift.”

“You can enjoy it the rest of the year, ya know.”

“I want to enjoy it now, I just need a minute.”

“It’s gonna be more than just a minute,” the young man snarks and that gets a snort out of Johnny.

“You gonna regret that,” the man mumbles against him.

#silverdyne #silverVdyne #kerry eurodyne #kerry x johnny #kerry x v #johnny silverhand #male V #Johnny x V #Johnny xV x Kerry #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fic advent calendar #my writing

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planetdream · 3 years

Text

— THE VAPORS !

this post contains; drug use [weed]. smut [sub x sub action if you squint. mutual masturbation—handjob + fingering. spit play. cum play. nothing too much, pretty tame] jisung calls the reader 'baby' a lot. just two needy babies <3

pairing: stoner!han jisung x stoner!reader | words: 1966

💌 this fic is very very self-indulgent. y’all are probably sick of hearing me talk about weed but i do not care! as usual... let me know your thoughts on this <3

Rolling a blunt is an art, and Han Jisung is the artist. He’s so pretty when he rolls: his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he stuffs the Swisher full. Thumbs at both ends, rolling up before he takes his tongue and swipes along the edge. Full concentration as he completes it, flicking the lighter on and bringing it to the blunt to seal it. He brings it up to your face, waving it around. He absolutely pearled it, not too loose in any area and not too tight that the wrap gets ruined.

He smiles at you, noting how your eyes linger on him. “This is only the second one. Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already,”

You laugh. “I would never.”

He lights the blunt, rotating it between his thumb and index to make sure it burns evenly. He brings it to his mouth and inhales, pulling it away and breathing in some of the smoke through his nose. He passes the blunt to you as he exhales. You admire him like this, he seems so calm and serene, like he’s at ease with everything going on within his life.

The rotation continues until the blunt is virtually gone and there’s a silence in the room as you both settle into your highs. You look towards each other, resting faces did away with as you both smile. Laughing because you’re under a silent agreement, already knowing what the other is hinting towards.

“It’s your turn to roll though,” He passes you the jar and rolling tray.

“No, you should do it,”

“Baby, I’ve rolled the last two times. And I rolled all of last night, c’mon.” He looks towards you with a pout.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and grabbing everything from him. He watches you intently as you roll, how your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth like always when you’re in deep concentration. You’re pretty. He thinks he says that under his breath so he’s a bit taken aback when you mutter a small thank you in response, not totally catching onto what he was saying.

Once you’re done rolling, you spark it and the scene unfolds as normally. Stark silence except for the occasional break of laughter at some TikTok video. Typically, you and Jisung play music or watch tv as you smoke, but lately, you both have been enjoying the silence that has been coated within each other’s company. This is something you guys haven’t been able to do in what feels like forever; both of you having hectic work lifestyles, it feels good to get moments like this, together.

Jisung puts the blunt out and turns his head to you. Knowing him all too well, you turn towards him. His hair is a mess, mostly because the both of you have only woken up a few hours ago, and his eyes are red and glossy. He licks his lips, looking down for a moment before he meets your gaze. He’s so pretty, you don’t think you tell him that enough, though he ensures you that you do. He appreciates the compliments that come from you, and always tries his best to return the favor.

“What do you want, baby?” You ask him softly, your voice is like sugar to him.

“Want a kiss,” His brown eyes are already dark, but there’s something deeper about them at this moment.

“My mouth is dry, not gonna kiss you,” You laugh.

“Well, drink some water and put your lips on mine,” He whines to you.

Throughout this conversation, you could feel his fingers trailing up your thigh. You’re not wearing pants, only an oversized shirt, and your underwear; if Jisung wanted to try something, he could. And he does, moving closer to you and running his finger over your panties. You barely get a chance to drink your water in the midst of this, and before you know it Jisung has his lips on yours. He slides his tongue into your mouth and lets himself explore. He’s concentrated; he’s got his lips on yours and now he’s pulling your panties to the side, dipping his finger down to your slit.

He smiles into the kiss, nearly surprised that you’re already this wet for him. He’s grateful for it though, showing his appreciation by sliding his fingers into your cunt slowly. You moan into the kiss as he carefully fucks his fingers into you. His fingers fit inside of you expertly, as if his hands were made to be used on you. And even though the kissing, he doesn’t make an error, his fingers continue at the same speed, almost teasing. Not that Jisung is all that much of a tease, when he wants to feel you, he can’t bring it out of himself to tease you and draw out the process, no matter how much he may want to. This is why fingering you is a happy medium; he gets to feel you and draw out the process.

However, Jisung is undoubtedly in love with the way your hands feel on him. Pulling his fingers out of you, and grabbing your hand to place onto the bulge in his sweats. He breaks the kiss for a moment, lips lingering close to yours as he ghosts his fingers against your clit. You, however, take free rein on the invitation prosed by Jisung and slip your hand into his sweatpants.

“Slut. You’re not wearing any underwear,” You laugh.

“Just for you, baby.”

His lips are back on yours, unable to get enough of them. He lifts his hips a bit as you shallowly attempt to pull his sweats down a bit. You pull his cock out and break the kiss so you can see it. Jisung has always had a pretty dick, literally perfect and not too big for his body either; though it is thick, so the stretch of his cock when he’s inside of you feels amazing—the literal perfect fit. Your hand fists tightly around his cock until you drawback to rethink your steps. Jisung looks confused until you take that same hand and drag your fingers along your slit to collect your juices, placing your hand back onto his cock.

Jisung can’t help but moan, and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of seeing what you did, or the feeling of your hand wrapped tightly around his cock; either way, you’re the sexiest person on earth in his eyes. He continues to thrust his fingers into you, every so often pulling them out to play with your clit while you do the same to his dick. The only sound in the room is your moans and the sinfully slick sound of your wetness.

“Need you, baby,” Jisung whines into your lips. “You need me too?”

“Always,”

Jisung pulls away from you, lifting himself off of the bed. He grabs you by the ankle, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. He kneels down, spreading your legs in the process, pinning them to your chest. He’s extra concentrated on your pussy, actually drooling at the sight of it—and not caring to wipe his mouth either. He taps his cock against your cunt lightly, teasing you just because he can. Going even further and hooking your dampened underwear over his cock and slowly thrusting, dragging the shaft of his cock along your cunt.

He fucks himself like this, high, not only from the weed but from the feeling. And it’s nearly enough to get you off, too, but you want more—you crave the feeling of him inside you: stretching you out and fucking you so deeply that you feel him for days after.

“Sungie, please,”

That’s all it takes. One tiny plea for him to slide your panties to the side once again and slip into you. He’s a bit mindless as he fucks you. Yes, he’s hitting all the correct spots and stretching you out wonderfully; but he’s just a whining, drooling mess hiding behind a soft dominant persona—there’s only one goal in his mind and it’s to cum. Your name leaves his lips in a chant, spilling from his mouth like spit. He presses a hand flat against your lower stomach, angling his hips at just the right angle for him to fuck you deeper.

“Come here, baby.” He grabs your jaw, pulling you a bit closer to him. You open your mouth slightly, letting him spit into it, only for you to spit it back out. It drips across your chin, but that's no problem for Jisung, licking it back up and spitting it back into your mouth. He ends the little game by sealing it with a kiss, his tongue working its way into your mouth to taste you.

He breaks the kiss quickly, moving his hands back and hooking them on the underside of your knees. He pulls out, spitting down onto your cunt before fucking back into you. This time he’s a lot faster with the way he fucks you, still as calculated as he can be through the sweet haze that’s fogging up his mind. You reach out for him, holding onto his wrists while he works his way inside of you. Cunt clenching and dripping around his cock, begging for his cum. You know that all you need to do is ask, and you’ll receive.

“Sung, please cum in me,” It’s intended to be a question, but it sounds like an order. There’s a quick snap of his hips as he drives somehow deeper into you, the tip of his cock grazing over that familiar squishy spot, and your vision fades a bit.

There's a squeal that leaves your mouth, and a hand comes up, almost hesitantly against Jisung’s lower abdomen in a shallow attempt to slow him down. Of course, it serves as no use because he just flings your hand away. “You can take it, baby, c’mon, just a little more,”

It’s almost like he’s saying that to both of you. Sweat drips from his forehead as he focuses all his energy on getting you to the edge. He makes swift, quick thrusts into you, unable to fully savor the moment. It’s like he’s racing against the clock, well, his clock—so close to coming but he doesn’t want to do it without you.

“Cum with me, baby, please,” He whines out, cock twitches as he cums in you.

He doesn’t stop fucking into you though, promptly getting you to the edge and helping you ride it out. You both cum with sobs: tiny little tears in both of your eyes, and drool pooling in the corners of your mouths. Through your highs it’s like the clock stopped for a moment, allowing the both of you to savor the moment. Panting through kisses as Jisung continues slow, shallow thrusts into you; barely wanting to pull out of you. Though he does, watching how his cum spills out and pools beneath you. Dipping his fingers into the seeping cum and spreading it all over your cunt to further make a mess of you.

He plops down next to you, and you both lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling. You settle into the silence, calm and securely. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather, it’s normal and soothing as you absentmindedly play with each other's fingers.

“It’s your turn to roll, you know?” You smile, poking at him.

“If I make you cum again would I still have to?” He asks, playing with your fingers.

“Only if you make me cum in under five minutes.” You snort at him.

“Challenge accepted,” He says, kneeling beside the bed and spreading your legs once again.

You did cum in under five minutes, but with the prettiest pout, you convinced Jisung to roll another blunt.

#🌑 — vivid dreams #🌑 — vividdream.skz #skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han smut #back to back bangers from dreamie?? absolutely

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michwritesstuff · 3 years

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Late Nights (The Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron)

This song just gives giant Rafe Cameron enemies to lovers vibes! Also, Holy shit, this is my longest work ever! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it!

This takes place season 1, before Rafe kills Peterkin. Let’s just pretend he’s not a psychopath. He’s still the resident bad boy of Figure 8, but not a killer…

summary: female reader (she/her) x Rafe Cameron When Y/N finds herself abandoned by her friends at a house party thrown by no other than Kook King, Topper Thornton, she finds odd company in the form of her classmates and neighbors that she has taken very little liking to. She is surprised to learn that her disinterest in all things “kook-related” has sparked the interest of a particular kook. tw: mention of alcohol/drug consumption, slight smut (18+) word count: 4.1k

Y/N might’ve been a kook, but if it wasn’t for her consistent attendance to Figure Eight events you wouldn’t have known. She hated all the superficial bullshit and quickly found herself befriending a certain group of pogues who she would often run into while working on the Cut. Everything in her life had been so easy for her, and although she was grateful, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the privilege she received while her friends had spent their life fighting for a chance. Being able to find an ally in Kie was all that Y/N had to look forward to as she continued to find a place for herself among the fight between class divisions in her small hometown.

Summer was coming to an end, and with a few weeks left you couldn’t help but just enjoy the moments with your friends. Sitting on the small boat as the sun slowly set, passing the blunt around while you all tried to keep a serious conversation going before blurting out laughing at some stupid shit JJ had said. You had even found an unlikely friend in the form of kook princess, Sarah Cameron. You had known Sarah Cameron for as long as you could remember, always greeting each other’s families at events and having at least one class together every year. But this was different, you had known Sarah but never gave her a chance to hang out. When John B mentioned her a few weeks ago and started to bring her around you and the other pogues were stunned to say the least. You knew that she was dating Topper Thornton, I mean everyone knew that, but what she had with John B was different, at least from what you had seen. “This was great guys, but I promised Topper I would meet him at his party. Keep up appearances, you know?” Sarah said unsurely. Everyone looked around, nodding in understandment, except John B. “I don’t like him,” JJ spoke up, standing up for John B who continued sulking in silence. “Yeah, him and Rafe are always doing some shit,” Pope also spoke up. “You guys have no idea,” Kiara replied while rolling her eyes at the thought of the kook boys she had known so well. You also nodded in response. “Yeah, well I would invite you guys, but I can’t imagine that going over well.” Once again everyone nodded in agreement, except John B. “What if Y/N goes with you,” he suggested. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus!” you exclaimed back at him. Sarah turned to you with a shy smile, “It’s not such a bad idea. I mean you would know almost everyone.” “Yeah, so does Kie, you don’t see her being volunteered to go,” you exclaimed again. “That’s because they actually like you,” Kie replied, smirking when you rolled your eyes at her statement, she was right. “C’mon Y/N it’ll be fun. You’ll have me to hang out with and if you absolutely hate it, we’ll make up an excuse and leave. Besides, it’d be nice to have someone there that I don’t need to be fake with.” You thought for a moment before slowly nodding your head, cursing under your breath as your friends cheered around you. “There’s our little kookie,” JJ stated, jumping away in defense as you attempted to punch his arm.

The bass of the music pounded in your ears as you walked up the driveway. If even possible it got louder once you finally entered the front door, you swore your eardrums were about to rupture. Finding the kitchen, you reached out for two truly’s, your disappointment in the night continuing as feeling they were just room temperature. They weren’t your first choice of alcohol to get through a night like this and seeing as though they weren’t even cold made it worse. You instantly cracked it open, downing as much as you could on the first sip. You handed the other one to Sarah, bumping your open can to her’s in an attempt to say cheers. She laughed at you, “I’m gonna go find Topper. You’ll be okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes?” You took another sip before responding, “Figured this would happen at some point, yeah I’ll be good.” Watching her leave your eyes scanned the kitchen, deciding you needed to loosen up some more you pushed off the counter, “I need something stronger,” you whispered under your breath.

Making your way through the house you scanned the room for unattended bottles you could mooch off. To your surprise you were pulled by the arm, “Omg Y/N, what are you doing here?” a girly high-pitched voice screeched. You turned around, already ready to use your preppy voice, “Hey Claire,” you responded in a mock happy voice matching hers. Claire was sweet, n just not your cup of tea. The two of you had always been civil, sharing a few classes here and there. “Mind if I?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle of Tito’s vodka in her hand. “Oh sure, just be careful. I’ve gotten fucked up with this shit more times than I could remember,” she laughed while handing you the bottle. You lift the bottle up to your lips, the taste on the rim barely making an impact on your tastebuds. But as you thew your head back and lifted the bottle you took one big swig. The alcohol ran down your throat, a warmth following the path it took as it settled in your stomach. “Ugh, Claire, that shit is just straight rubbing alcohol. How the fuck do you drink that?” you exclaimed, handing her the bottle as you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. She laughed at your reaction, “Believe me, in a little while you won’t even care how it tastes. Just know that you’ll feel it.” You nodded your head while once again scanning your eyes across the room. A few feet away was a coffee table surrounded by teens. Claire noticed your interest and dragged you over. Looking up from the table was Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, who on more than one account you had gotten into a heated argument about your choice of friends. The two of you made eye contact as he wiped the leftover residue from the line of cocaine he had just done. Classy as ever Cameron, you thought as you broke eye contact and examined all the other teens waiting their turn. Rafe greeted Claire with a smirk and half-nod before returning his attention to you. “Awww Y/L/N, get tired of hanging around those boring old pogues, and decided to have some real fun?” he mocked while gesturing to the lines set up in front of him. You scoffed at his suggestion, “Keep dreaming,” you responded. Living in your teenage years and drinking was one thing, but if your parents caught you doing drugs there was a good chance you wouldn’t have much of a life to live. Making eye contact with you he slowly lowered himself closer to the table, quickly doing another line before looking up at you again. Is this kid trying to kill himself? you thought to yourself. You reached out for Claire’s bottle, taking another swig before motioning it up to Rafe. “Always a pleasure Cameron,” you stated before handing Claire her bottle.

Leaving the room, you realized that you hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. Wandering around the house in attempt to find her you bumped into Topper. “Hey Top, seen Sarah anywhere?” you asked. “Uhm a little while ago, she said she went to go find you,” he said quizzingly. “Yeah, right. Just kidding, she went to the bathroom. I’ll go find her,” you quickly spitted out. Nearly running you got away from Topper as fast as you could before finding an empty spot on the wall. Leaning back against the wall, you pulled your phone from your pocket and found a few texts from Sarah and one from John B. “Hey Y/N, John B showed up.” “We just left, please distract Topper.” “I owe you one.” You responded back, “ughh ok, I’m on it.” Clicking on John B’s name you read his message, “sorry kookie, had to steal her. thanks!” You rolled your eyes at the dumb nickname him and the others decided for you, their attempt to always tease you about your kook lifestyle. You sent him the middle finger emoji and a yellow heart before turning your phone off and looking around for Topper. Spotting him talking to Kelce you kept your place on the wall. As long as you could see him and he couldn’t see you, there was no reason to suspect anything about Sarah. Besides, after about half an hour you could probably make a break for the exit, and no one would notice.

As you continued to scroll on your phone you were slightly startled by the presence of another human standing near you. Your eyes looked up to a boy standing in front of you. He was tall, but you couldn’t ignore how young and immature he looked. “Don’t even think about it freshman,” you said before he had the chance. He laughed while nodding his head. “Hey, I had to try. Should’ve known a girl as smart as you wouldn’t give me a chance,” he responded. You gave him a quizzical look as you quickly glanced him up and down. He wasn’t too dumb if he knew to compliment your intelligence over any physical feature. He reached his hand out to shake yours, “I’m Nathan.” You glanced at his hand for a second before reluctantly shaking it “I’m Y/N,” you replied. “I know,” he said a little too quickly making the both of you chuckle. “Mrs. Nichol said you were the captain of the mock trial team. She talked to you the other day about me joining,” he rambled on. You laughed at his apparent nervousness. “Oh yeah, well I guess it’s nice to meet you, Nathan. Not exactly the type of place to bring up extracurriculars,” you laughed while motioning to the number of teens, drugs, and alcohol around you. As you did you could feel the stare from a certain kook, no doubt watching your exchange with the boy in front of you. “Probably not, but it did get you talking to me,” he quirked back. Nodding your head in amusement at his reply you responded, “Touché.” As the volume of the music had apparently increased within the last few seconds of your exchange, Nathan leaned forward slightly so he could hear you better. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked while leaning down. “I can take it from here,” you heard Rafe speak from behind you as he slid his hand around to the small of your back. Confused by the situation unraveling in front of you, you were quick to speak. “Uhm, actually Cameron, Nathan and I were having a lovely conversation about something you couldn’t possibly be interested in,” you stated attempting to distance yourself away from Rafe and closer to Nathan. “Yeah, I—” Nathan attempted to speak before being interrupted, “Seriously, Miller, beat it or practice on Monday will be hell.” You confusingly looked at Nathan and Rafe before finally understanding. Just like you would be Nathan’s captain, so was Rafe. “Water polo?” you questioned. “Yeah, you’ll catch a game?” he asked in return. “Yeah!” you said sweetly before a mocking scoff turned your attention to Rafe, to which your surprise still had his hand on the small of your back, it almost felt natural that you hadn’t noticed it was still there. Looking at him expectantly he pulled his hands away holding them up in an ‘ok I get it’ way. “Can I help you?” you asked expectantly. “Care to go for a swim?” he asked. You looked at him confused, you weren’t sure if it was your light buzz from your shots of vodka talking but he seemed just as surprised as you were as you answered, “yes!”

As he grabbed your hand, you quietly followed as he led you through the house. “I’m gonna need more alcohol before we do this,” you exclaimed as loud as you could, hoping he would hear you over the volume of the music. He turned to look at you for a moment before turning back and nodding, showing that he had in fact heard your request. Walking through the kitchen he left you at the counter while reaching into one of the cabinets, pulling down a full bottle of Tito’s. He motioned you from your spot and you continued to follow. “My parents got this as a gift for the Thornton’s but it’s not really their style.” You nodded understandingly, Topper’s parents didn’t really seem like the type to be chugging back vodka shots, they were more sophisticated. Following him through the house you were confused as you walked past the sliding glass door that led to the pool and the dozens of other teens who had the same idea you two had, or so you thought. “Where are we going?” you asked. Rafe stayed silent as you continued following him. Opening another set of glass doors, he let you exit first before quickly following. On the side of the house was a hot tub that apparently no one knew about, seeing as though you and Rafe were the only ones out here. “What the hell is this, Cameron?” you asked. He looked at you, confusion evident on his face. “You said we were going swimming. We can’t do that in a hot tub.” He laughed before handing you the now open bottle of Tito’s, watching you take a sip he replied, “What, did you plan on working on your breaststroke or something?” He said jokingly. “No, I actually planned on playing mermaids. Maybe it’s you who needs to work on breaststroke,” you responded wittily. He feigned shock and hurt, taking the bottle from your hand. “My breaststroke is amazing, just ask your friend Claire,” he winked as you scoffed in amusement and disgust. After taking another sip he handed the bottle back to you, removing his clothes he stripped down until he was in his boxers. That left little to the imagination as you could see the outline of his dick printed. Feeling your eyes, he gave you a smirk to which you sheepishly took another sip of vodka, shaking as you felt the liquid burn down your throat. Entering the hot tub, he sat with arms spread out to both his sides, resting on the edge. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked. You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You handed him the bottle, starting to undress as you felt his eyes drawn to your exposed skin where you had begun to lift your shirt. “Hey! Turn around Cameron,” you exclaimed. He put his hands up in defense, turning his head so his attention was drawn to the bubbles and pressure coming from the jets. Folding your shirt and jeans on to the table nearby you turned back around to Rafe examining your exposed body adorning a basic black sports bra and lace thong. You immediately turned red, not knowing how to react under his intense stare. As you entered the hot tub you slipped when placing your foot on the bench to step in, landing you a little closer to Rafe then you planned. He held your arm as you attempted to steady yourself. “You alright?” he asked. You were able to manage out a “mhmm” as you reached for another sip from the bottle. He gladly handed you the bottle, a lazy smile on his face.

You weren’t sure how you always ended up like this but something about being drunk and outside led to you staring at the moon and stars. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence. You tried to remain calm with his choice of words, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on you. “Just thinking,” you responded quietly. “About what,” you scanned his face for a second, genuine interest radiating off him. “As niche as it sounds, life…I mean doesn’t this all seem so pathetic,” you stated as you continued to stare off into the sky. “Life?” he asked, laughing to mask his confusion. You chuckled along with him, “No, this…pogues vs. kooks. It’s all so fucking dumb. There are so many more problems out there, so many people who need help and we can’t even come together to help people in our own community.” He just hummed as you continued to ramble on, listening to what you had to say. “I can’t help but just feel guilty. I mean what did I do to deserve this type of life. I mean my parents work hard but they’ve had so many opportunities because of their parents and their parents, and it just keeps going. This sort of generational wealth and success…” you quietly trailed off as you realized who you were talking to. “But I mean you probably don’t care,” you said while looking at him. He shook his head with a smirk. “Now I know why Sarah never shuts up about how smart you are.” You looked at him more intently, “what?” you exclaimed. He nodded his head, before turning his attention to the sky like you had before. “I mean, I guess I just never thought of it that way. Kind of blind to the privilege that I have.” “Must be all the coke,” you mumbled to yourself under your breath. He shot you a warning look before chuckling, “might be the coke,” he responded. You laughed along with him before a serious tone washed over him. “I mean it Y/N, you’re just so attuned to the needs of others,” He exclaimed. “Well, you can be like that too,” you reassured him. “Yeah right, there’s not a lot of hope left for me,” he replied sarcastically. “That’s not true. I mean sure you have your flaws, but from what I’ve seen you’re a good friend, loyal and family is important to you. Those are good qualities, and I mean of course you’re not half bad looking.” He laughed at the last part. “Well, Y/L/N, you’re extremely caring, intelligent, and hot as fuck! So, you have that going for you.” It was your turn to laugh and turn red at his comment. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol dulling your senses, but as you looked into Rafe’s eyes you felt yourself being drawn closer. You both leaned in, lips barely brushing each other as your breaths slowed. “Can I kiss you,” he asked. You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. “Please,” you nearly whined. Your tone making Rafe swoon as he gently pushed his lips onto yours.

As happy as you were with his gentleness, the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night had made you far hornier than you liked to admit. Leaning deeper into the kiss you gently placed your hands onto his chest before lightly pushing him back to so you could straddle his lap. As you did so, Rafe took a large sip from the bottle, as you looked at him expectantly. He gave you a smirk before bringing the bottle close to your lips, tilting your head back, you let him pour some of the alcohol down your throat. Before you could process the liquid once again burning the back your throat you pressed a heated kiss on to his lips. As your hands moved up from their place on his chest to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, his hands move from where he was setting the bottle down to trailing around your waist and landing on your ass, holding you in place. As your tongues continued to fight for dominance, he pulled away slightly. Kissing down your jaw and starting to suck on your neck you slightly grinded down on to him while continuing to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hands left your waist, guiding your hips back and forth as you continued to grind on him. As he continued to work on your neck you moaned as he found your sweet spot, “Fuck Rafe,” you exclaimed. You could feel him smirk as he continued. Giving him a break, you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle to which you were grinding down on him and leaving marks over his neck and chest. “Fuck babe,” he stated. “Being so good to me,” he continued as he leaned in for another kiss. “Yes, sir,” you said, testing the waters. You could clearly tell that you were starting to drive Rafe crazy as he moaned into your mouth at your response. Roughly grabbing your hip, he speeded the pace of your grinding. As you continued to litter marks along his chest, he reached a hand up to pull your sports bra down far enough so that your boobs were spilling over the top. The pressure of the band along with the added sensation of Rafe’s mouth on your nipple was almost too much. Along with this you could feel how hard he had gotten under you. I mean, you knew he was big, but this was godly. Your makeout session was quickly abrupted as you both snapped your heads to the sound of the glass doors sliding open. Quickly removing yourself from Rafe’s lap and adjusting your bra, you sat silently, reaching for the bottle again. “What’s up Top?” Rafe asked nonchalantly. Topper looked at you both slyly, clearly knowing what he half-witnessed between the two of you. “Not much, I can’t find Sarah anywhere Y/N. And she’s not answering her fucking calls.” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well. Said she headed home; her phone probably died. Don’t worry Top,” you said as convincingly as the alcohol would let you. Topper seemed to accept your answer and reentered the house. Rafe looked at you unconvincingly. “She just left you?” he asks. Avoiding his gaze, you let your hands play with the water. Slowly nodding your head, you responded, “guess so…” “That doesn’t sound like Sarah,” he continued. “Well that’s what happened,” you snapped. Thinking about the conversation you would have to have with Sarah about how you failed to keep Topper distracted and the alcohol finally making its presence in your system known was too much to handle. “Ughh back to reality, I guess,” you groaned out. Rafe pulled you into his side so that his arm was around your shoulder and your head resting on his. “What are you up to now?” he asked. “Figuring how to make it home alive,” you chuckled dryly. He hummed in thought next to you. After a second, he spoke, surprising you in the process, “Stay with me.” “Rafe…” you dragged out unsurely. “Seriously Y/N, that way you don’t have to worry about going home right now.” You looked at him for a second before slowly nodding. Getting out of the hot tub he disappeared for a second before returning with a set of towels. As you both dried yourselves off and gathered your clothes you headed to Topper’s guestroom.

Stumbling around in your drunken state, Rafe grabbed the clothes from your hand. Setting them on a nearby table he turned so that you were facing each other. Reaching down slightly he grabbed your legs from under your thighs so that he was now carrying you. Feeling the warmth of his chest you pressed closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in the process. With each step you slightly bounced against him. The sexual tension from earlier quickly returning. Finally reaching the room Rafe laid down so that you were now on your back while he hovered over you. With your legs around his waist and arms around his neck you gently pulled him in, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. “I need to shower,” you said shyly. He nodded his head, pulling away slightly so he was standing, and you stayed sprawled out on the bed. “I’ll go get us some water,” he stated as he slowly walked out the room. Leaving the door cracked enough so he wouldn’t bother anyone with the sound of it opening and closing you sat up, finally taking in your surroundings. Getting up and heading to the bathroom you folded your towel, pulling off your bra and underwear as you let the water run until it was hot enough. As you let the water run over your body you stood for a minute, just thinking about everything that had happened that night, you rub your hands down your face, muttering “fuck.” You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was a problem future you would just have to deal with later.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours :)

Masterlist

#teentvimagines #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #obx #obx netflix #obx imagine #obx imagine rafe #obx rafe cameron #Spotify #obx imagines

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writtenwhalien · 3 years

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↠ gang leader!kim namjoon x badgirl!reader ↠ 1630 words ↠ friends with benefits | gang AU | smut, angst. ↠ 18+ | warnings: smoking, implied drug use, themes of misery with implications of hope, implied/non-descriptive smut.

He knows you do it on purpose, getting under his skin with your obstinate attitude and wilful ways, but he also knows why — you’re wary of life, and you’re silently calling for someone to make you feel protected from its cruelties.

So when he has his moments with you — naked limbs tangled with his own and you’re softly whimpering in his ear, asking only for him — he wants to keep you by his side forever.

A/N: so since the 2021 scammy’s, i’ve fallen in love with one of the songs i heard from there -- dakiti by bad bunny and jhay cortez. this drabble is inspired by the song, and you can read the english lyrics here. you could listen while reading! thank you to @hisunshiine and @eatjeanjin and @hantaev for beta-ing! 🥰🥰

read the prequel here ( — to be read after this original drabble).

The wisps of smoke rise from every corner of the room to the ceiling, draping the atmosphere with the thick scent of marijuana (among a few others). The lights are dimmed and slowly changing from shades of blue, to purple, to pink, while the music drowns out the mellow hum of conversation.

But none of this distracts Namjoon from you.

He’s watching you carefully, as he always does, and even the joint that he’s smoking can’t dull his senses enough to have his thoughts stray from you.

Because you’re always on his mind.

Since the first day you made yourself known to him, you’ve been gracing his waking thoughts, his dreams, and in the last few months, his bed.

But that’s something neither of you talk about, keeping the nights of lust and longing a secret between you.

Although Namjoon wonders just how long he’ll be able to hold back; the truth is always lingering on the tip of his tongue about how he really feels, yet every time he opens his mouth, you don’t give him a chance to say what he wants to. Instead, you do what you can to draw out low moans, rather than coherent words that would change what exists between yourselves.

Maybe it’s part of the reason he likes you so much. You got roped into this life so unfairly, and when the circumstances began to turn on you, you stood your ground tenaciously. Now you take what you want from life without letting yourself become attached. You’ve learnt your lesson from the experiences that had so harshly been served, and in your own right, you don’t let yourself make the same mistakes again.

Except, you’re not helping yourself either.

Namjoon sees that. He sees through your hollow laughs and your feigned smiles, and he sees the regret and anger your eyes reflect when you’re alone.

Even when you’re getting high, absentmindedly taking draws of your rolled up blunt, Namjoon can see the way you bounce your thigh, waiting impatiently for the drugs to work so you can finally fucking relax.

Moments pass and he watches as your body finally slips into a state of denial, ignoring life and it’s problems because why the fuck should you care after everything you’ve been through?

It’s now that you finally look towards the pair of eyes that have been watching you all night.

He looks at you as though he can see straight through your facade that you work so hard to keep up, and you hate it.

You hate that he knows you—looking right through you and at every thought that runs through your mind. And you hate that he’s also the only one you ever want, craving only his company when you feel most vulnerable and afraid.

Holding his gaze steady for a few moments, you finally get up, stalking out of the room to a place you know he’ll follow you to.

And sure enough, moments later, his broad figure stands in the doorway of the room that you only ever open for him.

“Put it down.” His deep voice comes as commanding, interrupting the ease with which you form a line of the white substance you’ve just managed to get your hands on.

Sighing, you look up at the decorated wall ahead of you, refusing to face him.

“And if I don’t?”

He slams the door shut behind him. “Put it down now.”

It would be easy enough to listen to him, but it would also be easy enough to mute your mind further until the lines are blurred in a euphoric haze.

You want the latter.

Your hand moves to reach for the straw, but Namjoon is faster.

Striding further into your room, his hands close firmly around your wrists, pulling you into him.

He’s mad. You can tell from the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Yet there’s a comfort it brings you — his protectiveness over you. And for some twisted reason which you don’t bother to think about, you often find yourself doing it again and again to feel this.

His breath ghosts the shell of your ear and you turn towards it, taking that small step backwards to enclose yourself in the refuge that you find in his embrace.

Despite his anger, Namjoon feels his resolve weakening as you spark every nerve of his body with your warmth alone.

“I won’t let you ruin yourself, Y/N,” he murmurs.

“That’s rich coming from someone who sells this shit for a living.”

Namjoon clenches his jaw, releasing your wrists as his hand brushes the line on your dresser, dusting the floor in specks of white.

So when he has his moments with you — naked limbs tangled with his own and you’re softly whimpering in his ear, asking only for him — he wants to keep you by his side forever.

You’re the only person he’s ever wanted like this.

And while he doesn’t think anyone could ever be worthy of you, if it’s going to be anyone, it’s got to be him. He can’t stand the thought of someone possibly mistreating you, giving you less than you deserve.

“I mean it.” His voice carries a muted austerity, serving as a gentle warning.

A tired sigh comes from you. Turning around, you face the tall male, glossing over the disappointment he masks under a sharp glare that sees right through you.

“Just kiss me, Joon,” you mutter, tiptoeing as you take his face in your hand.

He softens the second your lips are on his, his hands instinctively finding purchase around your frame. But he can’t ignore what you were about to do, what he’s tried so hard to protect you from.

Pulling back, he stares at you silently. He’s careful not to say anything wrong, knowing you’ll just turn on him if he does, returning to whatever idiot gave you the snow when he had explicitly told everyone not to. So there’s only one question he needs the answer to to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

“Who gave it to you?”

Irritation seeps into your features immediately, and you shove him off of you.

But before you can walk back out, his hand closes on your wrist again, this time gently.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again.”

His voice is as tender as his grip on you, and laced with an insistence that only appears when he’s with you.

It makes it that much harder for you to hurt him again, when you’ll inevitably seek out temporary bliss in feigned oblivion.

“I promise,” comes your response. A promise is easy enough to break.

That’s all Namjoon needed to hear, and it’s not all that he wants for you, but it’s a start.

His fingers trail down to your hand, and the soft brush of his knuckles against yours is the only invitation you need to lose yourself in the ecstasy that is him.

Lips find one another again, and it’s easy enough to forget about the rest of the world when he’s got his hands all over you, making you feel more than you’ve ever felt before.

Namjoon feels dazed by the drug that is you. You intoxicate him in the best way, making him unable to think straight but as long as his mind is full of you, then he doesn’t care. You’re the only high he wants.

“Let me see you,” he whispers, gently taking a hold of your waist.

You do as he asks, stepping back to pull your clothing off overhead, leaving you half naked in front of him.

His eyes drink in your form as though it’s the first time he’s seeing it, except when he pulls you into him, molding his lips to yours again, you’re the one who feels as though this is the first time both of you are silently acknowledging the unspoken desire that extends further than the physical attachment between you.

He leaves you breathless, lowering you to the bed as his lips paint over your skin with a kindness, unlike everything else in your life that tests you with brutal vehemence.

And nothing feels better than when he’s inside you, making you reach places that only he can make you reach. It’s his pride to be the one you come to again and again; to be the one that makes you feel safe as you seek an escape from this world.

He’ll be your sanctuary for as long as you need him.

Even when you inevitably come down from your high, and roll away just enough to keep the guard up around your heart.

But even then, you still always ask the same question, exposing how you really feel with the timidness in your voice.

“Are you going to leave?”

“Only if you want me to.” It’s always his response, reassuring and affectionate with a gentle stroke of your arm.

He doesn’t always expect you to say anything, and if you do, it’s a careful answer that dances around the simple fact that you do want him to stay. Tonight it’s —

“I’m cold, you can stay.”

You slip beneath the sheets, staying close to him, but not close enough.

Still, Namjoon will stay awake for a few hours after you drift off into whatever dreamless sleep, waiting for the moment that always comes...

Half asleep, you manage to find him again, cocooning yourself into his warmth and burying all your fears for as long as you’re held in his arms.

A/N: thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please reblog / leave a comment / send an ask! it means a lot <3

here’s the song that inspired me!

read the prequel here ( — to be read after the original drabble).

479 notes · View notes

chocominnie · 3 years

Text

Redemption 01 — JJK. (M)

→: This is book two to my story Desperado. Read that one before continuing on to read this one.

→ pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

→ genre: Angst, smut , a bit of fluff

→ Word count: 4k

→ summary: It’s been 4 years since everything that happened. If he could re-do everything he would, but cannot. With Won-Shik dead, and everyone’s back’s turned against him.. what can he do? You took a toll on him to the point where it’s hard to function without you and everyone’s concerned. Another gang has entered their teritory and is giving them a run for their money. The heir to the mafia thrown is now in charge with everyone waiting for his first big move. Yet, how can someone so broken inside take care of business though?

Warnings : This honestly isn’t for the light hearted and the weak. Drug dependency, drug mentions, high angst, mental illness, depression, anxiety, assault, gore, guns, usage of weapons, daddy kink, bigdick!jk, hair pulling, soft sex, rough sex, squirting, mouth fucking, overstimulation, consensual drunk/tipsy sex, protected & unprotected sex. I may be forgetting some so sorry in advance!

Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken.

Play this song after :)

“ Jungkook..”

“ Jun-”

“ What do you want.”

The boy watches his brother inhale the perfectly rolled blunt and then exhale the cloud of smoke with a bland look on his face. Sungmin hates that. He hates that Jungkook has picked up a weed addiction and can’t come back down for anything. Rehab? Jungkook literally paid his way out by bribing the administrator and security guards when Eunji put him in there. She sent him there once more, and yet he did the same thing except for he gave head to the owner who fell head over heals with his sex appeal. She meant nothing to him. He just wanted to go back to his new home and get high, yet again.

“ Eomma said to come eat dinner with us.” Sungmin coughs, fanning the smoke out of his face. “ You promised her you’d eat with us today.”

He can’t disobey a promise to his mother. She’d be angry at him for atleast three days. Jungkook had to learn that part the hard way. Today wasn’t a great day. Today was the fourth year anniversary of your viewing in Korea. Your funeral was held back home in Canada where the rest of your family are. Jungkook wasn’t invited to neither, and it killed him everyday inside to know he will never properly say goodbye to you.

Sungmin sighs, taking the blunt from his brother and putting it inside the ash tray. This side of Jungkook is in no doubt, toxic. “ I know what today is. I know it’s hard for you. Please just.. I wan’t you to better yourself. I know we don’t get along but I hate to see you all doped up everyday Jungkook.”

As if he said something insulting, Jungkook glares at him daring him to say another word about himself. “ You got to say goodbye. I didn’t. Don’t tell me how to regulate things when you aren’t as broken inside as I am.”

“ I’m just as sad as you, that I lost a friend..” Sungmin sits next to him and in return Jungkook glares at him once more for sitting on his bed without permission. “ Tonight we’re going to Hanuel park and doing our paper lantern release for her…”

Every year on the day of your passing, Crystal organizes a lantern release event for you. Everyone involved in that night writes their messages on it, wishing that you’re doing good up in heaven.The ones close with her write their favorite memories. Jungkook never attends. Staying at home under his covers and crying till he has no tears left seems to be a much better way in his mind. The boys always try to get him to come, but he doesn’t. Instead they all send videos and pictures to him which only tend to make things worse about himself. Besides, why would her murderer go to such a thing anyways.

“ I don’t want to be reminded of this day so why would I go.” Jungkook sighs, leaning back on his bed. Sungmin doesn’t bother with egging the conversation on anymore. He realizes that Jungkook wouldn’t listen to him anyways.

“ You know.. I’m leaving for a week. Back to my University in Los Angeles.They want me to come teach a class and I know you don’t care but can we atleast do something together. Like when we used t-”

“ No.”

Sungmin lets out a groan, throwing his head back in defeat. He’d been dreading ot ask the question but he did want to have atleast some time with him. “ You liked painting with me. I don’t understand why you won’t do it anymore.”

He did. It sort of relieved the stress and anxiety. Sungmin had taught him about abstract painting. Let your feelings take over the brush. It’s Jungkook’s favorite method. He’d painted himself only because Sungmin suggested to not paint you, as it would affect the whole healing process.

The two had painted often after Jungkook’s first session with him. Likewise in return there were days where Jungkook would teach his older brother some tips and tricks on pottery. Sungmin isn’t the best at it, but he was glad that Jungkook had started acklowedging his presence. For the past four years, they hadn’t seen each other often but Sungmin made sure to visit on holidays.

He’d gotten accepted into University of Southern California while Jungkook got accepted into Seoul National University. Granted, Sungmin moving in the new Jeon Mansion after graduating wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Eunji wanted her boys to live together with her if she had to stay with Jungkook. So she was the one who gave Jungkook the ultimatum that if she were to live with him, Sungmin would have to come too. The two boys aren’t married yet so she thought it wouldn’t be much of a big deal. Jungkook being the mommy’s boy he is, caved in and now the brothers get along just a little bit more than what they tolerate.

It’s been a long four years.

“ Alright Jungkook. You win. Have fun moping around.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh when the door to his room closes. Nothing else matters today but you. Pulling out his phone, he sighs once more checking his lockscreen. Its a mirror picture of you in the girl’s bathroom from your guises old highschool. He’d manage to get that picture from your social media before the account went private after your death. It wasn’t so hard to search for you. He went through Crystal’s following and eventually found you. Jungkook wasn’t and still isn’t the type to be on social media but he had created that account after your death to look at the many, many pictures of your instagram. To him, you looked happy. Astonishing. Beautiful. Cheerful. Most importantly, loved.

You were happy in all your photos. A smile in each one of them. Cute little quirky captions to match the theme of the picture. There were plenty of nights after studying for tests or classes in general in college where he’d just scroll through them as if you were still alive. You were though. In his heart you definately are still alive.

“ Jungoo?”

The little voice startled him a bit, causing him to drop his phone on his lap. Standing at the door is his baby sister, with her thumb in her mouth batting her eyelashes. “ Oppa.” Jungkook says, correcting her grammar.

Shes the new addition to the house as well, and quite frankly she’s the only one who keeps Jungkook up and on his feet. Her mother had called Casper desperate and in need for him to take Eden because she had gotten into some big trouble with the law. She had been set up by her new mafia boyfriend. Nari was at risk of being put into a foster care system because the boyfriend of hers didn’t want to take care her small child. Casper was her last and only hope, and for the sake of pure luck he did answer that phone call that night.

It took some convincing on Jungkook’s end, as he never even seen the child nor wanted one waddling around his brand new home. Eunji couldn’t have been more excited to have a little step daughter to take care of. Since she wasn’t there to raise neither of her two sons fully, having full custody and acess to a new beginning at parenting felt like such a great thing for her. She was on board, Jungkook had to be convinced that Eunji would do all the parenting while he handles mafia business.

Yet it’s been one year since her arrival to the house and her older brother secretly loves her presence more than anything. He’s known for taking her out the house, which is his excuse to get his mind off you, and buying her anything her eyes set on. He’s the first one she goes to at night if she has a nightmare and there he is opening his arms for her to climb in so he can pat her back to sleep. Eunji says no to her? Jungkook will say yes. Four years old and she has him wrapped around her finger.

“ What are you doing..” She says, tilting her head to the side. Jungkook mentally laughs at that. Her sentance structures are way too advanced for her age. Thats all thanks to the private tutoring Eunji has set up for her.

Laying back down on his bed, his eyes wander to the ceiling. He can’t tell her he doesn’t feel like eating with everyone cause she’ll for sure snitch. “ What are you doing.. you are supposed to be eating.”

Before he knew it, the small body was now climbing ontop of him to sit on his stomach. Jungkook doesn’t mind it, as she does it all the time when wanting attention. His favorite girl, besides you and his mother, can get anything she wants.

“ Wanna play dolls with me?”

He raises an eyebrow up at her, “ Go downstairs to eat.” Playing dolls with a four year old is where he draws the line. The last time he tried that, she nearly had a tantrum because he wasn’t following along with the story.

“ Carry me!” Nari raises her hands high above her head with a big smile upon her face. He can’t say no to that. If it will get her to go eat then so be it. “ Lets go then.” He says, a small smile forming on his face.

With each step he takes outside the room and down the stairs, he regrets it. Today isn’t his favorite day and eating with the family is rather annoying. The thing he really wants to do is look at your eulogy and reminisce of your presence. For the sake of not being yelled at though, Jungkook quietly eats his dinner with the thought of you in the back of his mind, and avoids any question or conversation trying to be held with him.

That is until the constant vibration of his phone in his pocket interrupts his walk back to his room. The sound of the front door alarm announcing Sungmin had left, lets Jungkook know that Casper should be nearby to follow behind his car. Theres been trouble recently. A new gang that Jungkook is unfortunately aware of. Their small, but know exactly how to do things to where Jungkook can’t pin-point the leader or location. With the recent influx of kidnappings and killings recently, Jungkook has ordered a new security team. Bangtan doesn’t really need it, but the boys understood when a zoom meeting was called by their leader. Although the gang might not be as active, business is still business.

And someone is fucking up the plans on the turf of Bangtan Boys.

Breakings News! Recent restaurant fire at Hongdae Galbi. Police have no suspects as of right now. A fight broke out between two customers outside while the fire broke out inside. Two fighters weren’t seen ever going inside the restaurant. Police say the two men aren’t suspects. The public thinks otherwise.

Jungkook knew the story was bullshit. This is the second fire within two weeks in Hongdae. It’s starting to become really consistent, a little too consistent for his liking. Unlocking his phone, the text is from Namjoon. He’s found out the news too and is just as speculating as Jungkook.

Namjoon : We really need to call for a meeting.. the recent events are starting to look like we have opponents on our land.

Locking his phone, Jungkook sighs heavily while throwing his head back. Bangtan is something that has been on hold due to your death. Part of him doesn’t want to bring it back just because what if the dangers of losing someone close to him becomes true again. He doesn’t trust himself. Things are going good behind the scenes as he is still the big boss now. His duties are still being taken care of by himself for the Jeon mafia.

There just hasn’t been any killings by his boys or himself within the past four years. Stocks and the drug ring has been holding everyone well off with the thousands of money they make per month. Granted, no killings mean no big money is being made. So the boys have been assigned other duties and tasks to complete with their drug ring. Easy money for them.

Tell them to meet up at Temptation at midnight. We’ll discuss details then.

Walking back into his room, he makes sure to close the door behind him and lock it. The last thing he needs for anyone, especially Nari, to see is him loading up his glock and tucking it into his pants. His hands shake with each bullet loaded in. It’s been way too long since he’s carried it out the house. Guns threw him off completely because of your death. He no longer wanted anything to do with that deadly weapon that spews blood all over the place. Instead, he had been carrying his pocket knife around. A little more discreet and doesn’t painfully hit his dick sometimes the way his gun did.

Tonight since he will be in a big crowd within the his own club, it’s only right to be strapped up and alert. The boys would be too anyways. Shooting a text to Casper, Jungkook lets him know to be on high alert when he arrives to the club. With the recent things that have been going on, who knows what place is set next to be blown up.

It’s been a while since he’s been here. The smell of colognes, perfume, and alcohol mixes together creating an unkown scent. A friday night and it’s packed for sure due to one of the hottest DJ’s in Seoul playing tonight. If it were up to him he would have picked any other day to have this meeting. Today is his day to mourn you but business is calling so he must answer.

“ Have a great night boss.”

Jungkook nods his head at the security guard who lets him through to his private section. This section in particular is familiar to him and all the boys since they occasionally hold business here instead of one of the two private rooms upstairs.

“ Jungkook!”

Immediately his eyes dart over to the girl sitting in the section. That voice. The voice that holds mistakes, regret, fuck-ups and fuck buddy nights. She knows when she’s wanted by him. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. Her beautiful fair skin shines perfectly against the strobe lights that compliment her long wavy hair that falls right above her ass. Her lips were once a favorite attribute of Jungkook, until those sinister lips betrayed him. Her dress is tight against her body making sure her figure stands out. Little black dress. The one that always got her in trouble by him. She wants something.

“ I tried to keep her away but the brat always gets what she wants.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot. He brings the light blue cartridge to his mouth to inhale a long drag just before exhaling in a slow motion.

Jungkook smirks a bit, “ Of course. You want something that you know you can’t get. Why are you here Emelia?” The boy sits down next to her to which Emelia’s hands travel up and down his chest making Jungkook tense up.

“ I was only dropping by at the club with my friends. They left me for some dick, but my dick is here at the club right next to me.” She says, batting her eyelashes at him. Jungkook slightly rolls his eyes. Sex. That’s what she wants.

“ So you bothered us to get fucked by Kook?” Taehyung laughs, shaking his head at her. Emelia doesn’t care for his smart comment. Instead she flips him off and goes right back to Jungkook who seemingly uninterested at the moment.

“ When will you come over tonight?”

Definately not tonight. Not on your death anniversary... but maybe the sex could chase the never ending pain away for a temporary moment. No. That’s disrespectful to you. Especially on this night alone.

Leaning down to whisper in her ear, “ I’m handling business right now, not tonight. Don’t think I’ll let you off though. You wore a dress that you know you can’t wear around my men. I’ll drop by soon.” Jungkook’s voice is husky but dominant lead by a kiss on the jaw to her afterwards.

She’s satisfied with the promise. She’s satisfied with anything to do with Jungkook really. It’s been only a year of them hooking up with each other. It started with Namjoon introducing her to Jungkook to get him out of his depressive state. She’s one of Crystal’s friends. Soon she became one of Jungkook’s girls. One of his favorite girls to say the most. Yeah the rest might of been strippers who give him dances here and then buy Emelia is consistent within his life.

She makes herself be consistent, always there when he needs whether it be for his needs or for someone to talk with about how life is cruel. She’s there. Soon friends led to fuck buddies who are friends and haven’t stopped since. She betrayed him by going and messing around with another gang member when they had taken a break from each other. Secrets could have been told to that other member, which is why Jungkook got rid of her for a month. Until he needed sex again and there she was offering sex and playing therapist to all his emotions.

Part of him wants to fill that deep hole in his heart that contains you. The piece of him that nobody can take or fill. It’s your space and your space only. Everyone else is just a temporary high. Emelia understands what business means and so she gives Jungkook a kiss on the cheek before heading out the VIP section and into the partying crowds of people.

“ Can you stop bringing your bitch to work.” Yoongi grabs the blunt from Namjoon awaiting his smart remark. “ She could be giving out information to that one boy.”

“ She isn’t. She also isn’t my bitch. Just a friend.” It takes Jungkook all his might to be on his best behavior tonight. Considering they know what day it is.

“ A friend who’s your bitch who you fuck to get yn out your h-”

A loud boom grabs everyone’s attention that comes from Jungkook slamming his hands on the table with a scowl upon his face. In one swift movement he’s up and over to Yoongi grabbing him by his shirt collar. Namjoon grabs onto Jungkook in order to pull him back but he’s got a good stance and grip onto Yoongi.

“ Do NOT speak of her like that when today is her death day you fucking idiot.”

Yoongi smirks, “ I know what day it is. You are the one disrepecting her because your bitch just came in here and-”

“ Keep speaking. I dare you.” Jungkook growls, tightening his grip. “ Stop! You two are always going at it. Pipe down we all need to talk about what we’re gonna do about this rival we have!” Namjoon yells.

Jungkook gives one last glare before pushing him back down into the seat. Today is definately not the day to be tampered with.

“ Not my fault princey pooh can’t control himself.”

Which is the last straw for Jungkook. “ Fuck it. You all figure it out by your damn self. I don’t need this shit today. Fuck you Yoongi and fuck everyone else for not speaking up on yn’s behalf! She may be dead but today is not the day to say slick remarks with her name in it.”

His head hurts from interacting with people and he’s entirely over it and exhausted from anything and anyone. All he wants to do is have a couple shots, smoke, and go to bed. Nothing went as planned today and the last thing he needed to happen is this entire situation.

“ Namjoon relay the plan to Casper. He’ll tell me after. I’m fucking over this shit.”

Namjoon sighs heavily, leaning his back against the booth while he watches Jungkook leave. Truth is, Jungkook has been putting more and more stress on to Namjoon this past few weeks. If Jungkook can’t do something right away then he would pass it over to him. Ontop of that, Crystal has been bugging him to spend more time with her. She’s beginning to get tired of the late nights he comes home.. or if he even comes home at all. He’s there for her during the day but it’s somehow cut short sometimes when business needs to be handled. She misses being with him the way they were in college. With her being an solo idol and all, her schedule barely matches his now-a-days. All she wants is the old relationship back and a more emotionally available boyfriend.

There has been countless nights where she stayed up overwhelmed and crying. Whether it be from being a popular singer or just her over-analyzing her relationship. Everytime she cries she wishes he would be there and hold her, but she does know that he has to handle business.

“ Need a hit?”

The voice startles him. Turning to his left, there’s a girl with short cut hair, a maroon colored body-con dress with matching heels holds out the golden cartridge. She has a golden bracelet with words that Jungkook can’t make out. Might be her name.

It’s been a long day so what the hell right? Taking the cart from her, he takes a long drag, holding it in to fill his lungs, then exhales the smoke. “ You aren’t a beginner. Nice.”

He nearly chokes when she speaks again. She sounds familiar. He knows that voice, but it sounds different. Different yet familiar and he can’t put his finger on it. Possibly one of his drunk night flings. It would be bad if he’d ask her name if so. “ Yeah well.. you know...”

“ You came storming out there...” She grabs her cart back from him, taking another hit. “ You alright dude? Was it girlfriend drama?”

He doesn’t make a noise. The voice is too familiar so he studies her movements. That’s something he always remembers of people. So far her leg keeps shaking as she leans on the concrete wall with her hands crossed. Anxiety maybe?

“ Just going through grief and life. Any suggestions on how to manage the two..”

The girl chuckles, grabbing his hand to place the cart back in it. As a reflex Jungkook tenses up and jerks his hand away. She doesn’t mind it though because she tries again but shows him the cart first before putting it in his hand with a slight smile.

“ Just make the world your own and live in it because right now you look like a lost puppy.”

Is the last thing she says before walking past him and into the dark nightlife of Hongdae.

Yeah that reminded him of you. Lost puppy. His lost puppy that had to be buried 6 feet under.

So he thinks.

A bad bitch never dies though right?

269 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

Snowed In

Best Friend!Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Best Friends To Lovers, Huddle of Warmth, Domestic!AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Mega Fluff, Marking, Impregnation Kink, Thigh Slapping, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Possessive!Hoseok, Ab Worship, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Belly Bulge, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Cream Pie

WordCount: 15k

A/N: Okay! MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS! I’m super super lucky to have all of my darlings in one collab with me! Always a shoutout to my loves @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx and @underthejoon for rooting me on always! Shout out to @hobi-gif for beta-ing it and literally helping me learn English lmfao. My other loves @snackhobi and @yeojaa rooted on the idea for this fic and helped me flesh things out and I’m so lucky I’m constantly surrounded by such amazing people!

Seasons for most people inspire and bring delight with every change of color on leaves in high up trees. Yet with you, you always hated all the seasons and everything they stood for. Until you met him. Or let him in anyway.

It sounds corny and ridiculous. It probably is.

People always deemed you cold hearted or uncaring and it was all true. But he brought love to your heart. He made colors brighter. He made the world seem bigger and better than you ever noticed before.

He was always around, even if you didn't want him to be. You had some friends from childhood that insisted on keeping him around. He was kind and eager with everything that he did. And it annoyed the ever living crap out of you.

But you slowly opened up that iron cage around your heart and let him in. Even if it took him ages for you to let him in, he was determined.

You never understood why it always turned terribly cold the day before Halloween. It was a constant as well as surprising. But, what was probably more surprising was that people couldn't give a bigger fuck about frigid temperatures when they had revealing costumes to wear.

"I don't wanna go!" you whine to Taehyung as he takes off his shirt. Rolling his eyes, he throws the fabric perfectly on the top of your head before thrusting his fist up in the air.

"Score!" he cheers loudly as he grabs the top of his costume.

You ball up the tee-shirt in hand before chucking it at him with a sneer.

"Kim Taehyung," you mumble as you look back down at your phone.

"You have to go. Do you want me to not get pussy? Is that what it is? You have an agenda against me? A no pussy agenda? That's fucked up Y/N. I can't even believe you!" He rants as he slips on his top.

"Oh my God," you murmur as you lean back against the headboard of his bed.

Knowing this man since you were six -- nothing has changed. He's been by your side through thick and thin. He has always been a fearless best friend and a fierce fighter for you.

You've never liked people but the one person you've really only cared for has been Kim Taehyung. And, Park Jimin -- but he's a different story entirely.

"Jaemin is going too, you don't want to see your own boyfriend?" Taehyung asks as he stands in front of his mirror.

You look up slowly from your phone only to catch his gaze through the mirror. "Jaemin is his own person. He can do whatever he wants without me having to be by his side like glue."

Taehyung snorts gently as he combs his fingers through his hair.

"Man, I don't know how you keep relationships. You're so mean. Jaemin has a strong heart to be with you," you give him a fake smile as you flip him your middle finger.

"Not everyone needs to be as coddled as you do, Tae," you reply as you stand up off the bed.

"Hey. I'm only so needy and clingy because my parents didn't love me as a child," he says as he puts hairspray in his hair.

You snort gently at his words before the door of his dorm room opens.

"Tae!" you hear Hoseok cheer and you internally sigh.

In your first year of college, Hoseok was in every single class you signed up for. You saw him for multiple hours a day and he was so nice -- so completely nice, that it was terrifying.

No one should be so kind and selfless but that's just who he is. Once Taehyung and Jimin had met him, the trio that you’d always been had turned into some bizarre foursome that you didn't quite care for. You were used to the other two around, but with Hoseok you just became uncomfortable. Maybe it's your crippling anxiety or your extreme awkwardness.

"Hey Hoseok!" Taehyung calls out to him as he grabs his pants.

Hoseok looks around the room before spotting you. His smile seems to widen -- if that's even possible.

He is incredibly handsome. His eyes always seem to sparkle with an energy you've never really seen before. Jimin calls it allure, Taehyung calls it kindness.

“Y/N! Hey! Happy Halloween!” He says happily as he enters the room.

His costume is simple, just a leather jacket, black t-shirt and black ripped jeans with a Scream mask hanging from his neck but it’s nice.

“Hey, Hobi,” you reply, your voice is wrapped with dull tones. Sitting back down on the bed, you look at your phone for a distraction.

“What’s your costume?” he asks as he sits down beside you.

“She’s going as herself. Because, that’s the scariest thing this world can offer,” Taehyung jeers as he puts on his eyeliner.

You give a fake laugh as you lock your phone. “Wow! Tae, you’re so funny! You get all the girls with your quirky humor?”

Hoseok laughs beside you, the sound is endearing to hear, unfortunately. But, you do find yourself giggling as Taehyung flips you the middle finger right back.

“I don’t like Halloween. Or any holidays as a matter of fact… or people,” you tell the cute black haired boy beside you. He hums understandingly as he folds his arms.

“It’s cool to be introverted,” he replies softly which Taehyung scoffs at.

“Not my Y/N. When she’s with me, she breaks out of her shell, right?” you hum uneasily as Taehyung enters the bathroom.

“Because you make me!” you retort loudly, lifting your body off of the headboard of his bed to call out to him. You huff out as you lean back before folding your arms and looking at Hoseok.

“How do you deal with him?” you quip as he looks up at the ceiling.

“He was your friend first,” he replies, a gentle smirk settling onto his features before turning his head to you.

“Touche,” you mutter as Taehyung throws his pajama pants at your head from the doorway of the bathroom.

Going to parties was certainly not a hobby for you. They’re loud and the environment usually smells like stale beer or high proof vodka. People stumble or shove you out of the way in their drunken stupor. It’s usually a gigantic mess.

But, if you must, you go to parties with your two best friends plus one Jung Hoseok, who is too kind for his own good.

Exactly what you hate is right before your eyes as you all pull up to Jimin’s frat house. The music is so loud, you can practically feel the bass beneath your feet as you step onto the front lawn. Already, there are strewn Solo cups on the ground and girls in tiny costumes. Which doesn’t bother you as much, you dress how you want to dress but it’s just so fucking cold!

You see him in passing, your boyfriend flits away before you can even call out to him. He looks good, really good. Sometimes you’re surprised he asked you out first. His hair is coiffed and you know his costume is supposed to be a zombie jock, which isn’t far off from what he normally is. He’s gigantic compared to you, the quarterback of the college football team and sitting comfortably at six foot five. He’s incredibly handsome and he’s yours. Which is bizarre because you never even thought he noticed you at all around the college green until last year.

“Lee Jaemin!” Taehyung calls out to him as he grabs a beer.

You cringe as Tae calls him, he shouldn’t have to come over if he doesn’t want to...

“Oh shit! What’s up guys!” Jaemin cheers loudly. You can hear the slur already in his voice.

He gives high fives to everyone before planting a sloppy, yet quick, kiss to your lips.

“So, where’s your costume?” Jaemin asks you as he pops the top of his can open.

“I don’t like Halloween, you know that,” you mumble as he ruffles your hair with a chuckle.

“You don’t like anything, baby. Except this dick.” He kisses your hairline before walking away leaving you all on your own.

You scratch the back of your neck uncomfortably, before looking over at Taehyung and Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” your apology is weak as well as your voice.

God, you and Jaemin are so different sometimes.

Taehyung passed you a beer with a gentle scoff and you can tell that he's holding his tongue.

Cracking open the beer, you take a long sip before staring at the frat house.

"I'm sorry I made you come." Tae apologizes softly as your blue haired best friend begins to bolt towards you all.

You grumble softly in response before groaning as Jimin bum rushes you. Knocking all of the air out of your lungs, you cough loudly as he squeezes you tightly to his body.

"Happy Halloween! You bunch of assholes!" he cries happily as he shakes you around in his arms.

"Get… off!" you wheeze out, slapping his arm with all the strength you can muster.

Once he lets go, your free hand drops to your knee as you gasp for breath.

"You okay?" Hoseok asks softly, a goofy smirk on his lips as he presses his hand to your shoulder.

You give a thumbs up weakly before coughing loudly and standing upright.

"LET'S GO PARTY!" Jimin yells loudly across the lawn as he throws his arms up in the air.

You watch as other drunken college kids cheer along with him and you roll your eyes as Hoseok squeezes your shoulder.

You've managed to avoid conversing or dancing throughout the night which seemed like the only highlight so far. The typical pushing and shoving from drunk people to get places was the norm so far. You've been offered blunts and other varying drugs that you politely refused.

Finally, you found an empty couch in the large living room for you to become a loner in. Watching the drunken couple get up from making out to take their affairs elsewhere, you swooped in like a hawk to sit like a marble statue.

You spot Taehyung, his arm high up on the wall as he cages a girl between his hips. They're talking (more like screaming at each other over the loud music) and you lean your head back on the couch as you watch them.

Tae has always had an effervescent personality ever since you were very little, so it's no surprise as he holds his hand out to the random girl and she takes it willingly. You'll have no ride home tonight, you find yourself thinking.

Jaemin hasn't come looking for you once since you saw him on the lawn. He was a partier, you were not.

"Hey!" you hear someone scream to your right.

Looking to the owner of the voice, you give a small smirk as Hoseok flops down beside you.

"I was looking for you!" he calls into your ear as he passes you a Solo cup.

"Why?" you reply confused as your eyes focus on his handsome face in the dim lighting of the living room.

"Because I knew you'd be all alone!" he quips, elbowing you gently with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips turning upward and you bring the Solo cup to your mouth.

"It's like watching a group of crazed monkeys jumping around!" He jokes as you both watch people dance.

You can feel yourself giggle softly, you couldn't hear anything soft above the music.

There's silence between you two for a bit, but it's comfortable. You can feel his thigh pressing into yours gently as you both watch people moving along with the music.

"Where's Jaemin?" Hoseok calls once more and you shrug flippantly as you take a sip of the mixed drink.

Vodka and cranberry.

"Did you make this?!" you ask him as he throws his arm over the lip of the couch.

He nods with a smile before raising his own.

"It's my favorite!" you call back to him.

"I know!" he replies happily before looking back at all the people.

He's so thoughtful, it's bizarre. Taking another swig of the drink, your eyes catch Jaemin walking up the stairs to his bedroom. Not even a minute later, a girl follows with a knowing smile set on her face.

Your eyebrow raises at the sight and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Sitting up slightly, Hoseok follows your gaze and he practically blanches at what you could possibly be thinking.

"Excuse me." you call to him as you stand up.

"Y/N! Wait!" Hoseok screams over the music but his voice gets softer as you weave through all the people dancing.

You feel his hand curl around your arm and your first instinct is to pull away from him. But, he keeps his grip steadfast.

"Stay with me." Hoseok pleads in your ear.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you rip your hand away from him. You grip the banister of the stairs.

As you look up at the second floor landing, it seems more daunting with each and every step.

"Yo!" Jimin cheers as he climbs up the stairs with you.

"Gonna go get your freak on?!" he jeers. Hoseok is quick to elbow him in the ribs, sending a cautionary glance his way that shuts him up quickly.

"Y-Y/N?" Jimin asks as you clutch tighter onto the staircase banister. Your knuckles turn white and you have to focus on your breathing as you ascend further.

You can’t even begin to respond as you reach the top of the staircase. Your mind is running a mile a minute.

Sure, you and Jaemin weren’t attached at the hip but you’ve been dating a year. He never even has given the hint that he was getting tired of you or bored of your presence. Although you could be completely different at times, you were happy when you were together. You didn’t need to see him every day to feel complete, you thought you both were okay.

“Y/N. You don’t have to do this.” Hoseok says as he grabs the Solo cup from your hand.

You can barely hear him above the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

Everything is muffled, even the high volume music that pumps throughout the house.

You spot Taehyung, making out with the girl from earlier outside Jimin’s bedroom. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and sees how ghostly pale you’ve become, his blood runs cold at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” he yells as he leaves the girl on her own.

Swallowing thickly, you ignore him. Your feet are slow and sluggish but you make your way to Jaemin’s room without a second thought.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the door knob. You can hear loud, bitter whispers from the men behind you as you clamp down on the metal in hand. Taking a deep breath, you thrust the door open.

You take your boyfriend of a year in your sights, his hands on the random girls hips as she straddles him. Apparently, they wasted no fucking time getting naked.

Your eyes flutter shut at the image now burned into your corneas. And, you feel as if a hole has been punched through your gut.

Upon opening your eyes, you see your boyfriend's head angle towards the door. His sideburns are caked down with sweat and with narrowed eyes he finally makes out your figure in the dark hallway.

“Holy shit! Hey, baby!” He yells out surprised as he shoves her off his lap.

Just hearing his voice, how it’s meant to sound playful brings tears to your eyes. Your nasal passages burn with bitter intent and you look down at the floor as he sits up.

“Hey, Y/N! Listen, I-” you’re shoved out the way by Taehyung and Jimin who advance towards the quarterback with venom dripping from their gaze.

“You fucking asshole!” Taehyung screams as he punches Jaemin in the face.

You feel arms wrapping around you, none other than Hoseok’s as he pulls you away.

“Chill man! It’s fucking college! You think I was going to just stay with your introverted little creepy friend for the rest of my life?!” you hear Jaemin scream as Hoseok tugs you towards the staircase.

You decided to walk home, even though it was freezing outside. The sharp breeze chills you to the bone and sets your mind alight as you trudge through the brown, crinkled leaves that line the sidewalks.

Hoseok has stayed by your side throughout the walk and thankfully, he hasn’t said a word. You were mad at yourself for crying. Stopping every so often to wipe bitter tears off your cheeks as you folded in on yourself.

He can see you shivering as you get closer to your dorm and he tugs off his leather jacket. Swinging it over your shoulders, he hooks his arm around you before pulling you into his chest.

You feel too dead inside to move, but the warmth and comfort of his body is nice.

“You don’t have to talk. But, I will.” Hoseok says as you finally reach your dorm.

Opening up the door for you, he waits as you scan the keycard to enter the building.

Once safely in the elevator, you shrug off his leather jacket before handing it back to him with a small murmur of a thank you.

You feel lucky that your dorm room is a single, because tonight you would not be ready to deal with a roommate.

Stepping inside your dorm, you make your way over to your bed before sitting down with a huff.

Hoseok, the handsome, kind man that he is sits in front of you. He crosses his legs and all you can see in his eyes is sorrow.

“You are so amazing. You’re too fucking good for that piece of shit asshole. You deserve so much better than him. Even if you come off rough around the edges, you’re kind to your friends and you care deeply about things that are important to you. You’re smart and confident in what you do know and you’re a force to be reckoned with. Fuck him if he doesn’t appreciate you. There are plenty of people in the world that do. Me being one of them,” he says as he puts his hands on your knees.

You weren’t in the mood for nice comments but the way that he says it, with such conviction makes you feel almost lighter in a way.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out.

“You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to entertain me. I’m here for you to make sure you’re okay.” Hoseok says gently as he runs his hands over your knees.

Maybe you’ve been too harsh with him. Maybe he was someone you wanted in your life. He’s helped you in ways you didn’t even think you would need tonight. He’s dependable.

"Thanks, Hobi." you manage to whisper out.

It was a nickname you made for him and only him. And, only you could use it.

"You can lay down if you want. I won't leave you alone, unless you want me too," he says softly.

You didn't know if you could handle being all by yourself right now after the night you've had.

"Stay," you whisper as you take off your hoodie.

He gives an understanding nod as you lay down on your bed. Pulling the covers over you, he sighs gently as you close your eyes.

You never really understood until now why Jimin and Taehyung brought Hoseok into your group. Of course, he was kind and fun to be around but he was dependable and just a genuinely good friend.

"Sit," you tell him as you push yourself flush against the wall, turning onto your side.

Hoseok seems to be fighting within himself for a second before he's kicking off his shoes to sit up against the headboard beside you.

He brings his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around them. You've noticed him doing it several times in the past. It's endearing to watch him do it every time, like he needs to make room for something.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the horrible scene from not too long ago. You really, really liked him. Even if you weren't the best at showing it.

"I thought we were okay. I know that sometimes I can be difficult to be with b-"

"Y/N," Hoseok interrupts you. You look up at him as he angles his face down towards yours, "There is nothing wrong with you. This is his fault. I'm not going to sit here and let you beat yourself up over that fucking douchebag."

You hum unsurely, as your fingers pull at a stray strand of fabric that sticks out from your comforter.

"I just… I don't date people because I'm not confident or anything and look what happens," you reply hopelessly as you turn onto your back. Staring at the ceiling, your eyes flit from one glow in the dark star that you and Jimin stuck up there to the other.

"You're beautiful. Not just your face, but your being is beautiful. Confidence isn't easy to gain but you should have it because you deserve it. You're pretty wonderful." Hoseok says as he looks up at the ceiling with you.

His words are warming, like chicken soup when you've got a cold.

"Thanks for being my friend Hobi," you say as you close your eyes.

"Thanks for being mine," he replies, knocking his foot playfully into your hip.

The bedroom door swings open with your two best friends and you sit up on your elbows as they file in.

Taehyung's knuckles are cut up, dried blood flecks his costume and his fingers. Jimin is the same, but a stream of dried blood is apparent from his nose and your eyes widen at the sight.

Tae looks over you before jumping onto your body.

You groan loudly as he manhandles you. He wraps his arms around you into a bear hug before peppering your cheek with kisses.

"I'm so sorry," he cries out as you push at his shoulders.

"Get off me!" you whine, slapping the bloody shirt away from you.

"What happened to you?" Hoseok asks Jimin.

"Jaemin hooked me when I told him that he's no longer welcome in Alpha Sigma Tau." Jimin spits at the simple mention of his name and you feel your heart almost as light as a feather as he winks at you.

Hoseok high fives Chim before looking back up at the ceiling shaking his head.

Maybe being a weird foursome is better than a trio.

Being on campus as the quarterback's ex-girlfriend is uncomfortable and a hard pill to swallow. But, it's easier with the three lunatics you call best friends.

"Help me pack!" you hear Taehyung complain as you lean against the headboard of his bed.

Hoseok throws a pair of briefs at him before grimacing.

"Why should we help you pack when you didn't even invite us?" Jimin quips as he lifts his head from the hardwood floor.

The younger best friend scoffs loudly as he throws his skiing goggles into his suitcase.

"Believe me, if I could bring you all to the Swiss Alps -- I would. But, you know how my parents are."

You do in all honesty. Taehyung belongs to one of the richest families in the area and his family is quick to dismiss others who are not of their similar standing. You were lucky that your mother was his father's assistant and the same goes for Jimin with Taehyung's mother.

"What are you doing for Christmas, Jimin?" Hoseok asks curiously as he leans back against the headboard beside you.

"I'm going to France with my younger brother. Our mom got us a good deal at the Four Seasons." Jimin says flippantly as he fixes his varsity jacket.

Hoseok hums before nudging you, "What about you?" he asks softly.

Your heart pangs uncomfortably as you look at your different colored socks.

"I'll probably just stay here for Christmas. I was supposed to spend Christmas with Jaemin and my parents are going out of the country so I'll be here," you reply as you look out the window.

You can see the sudden snow flurry sticking to the bare branches of trees and the windowsill of Taehyung's bedroom window.

You didn't realize just how fucked up your holiday plans would be after Jaemin cheated on you just a month ago.

"Oh. No way." Hoseok mumbles softly and you clear your throat uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry Y/N." Jimin whispers as he sits up.

You shrug as Hoseok puts his hand on your shoulder.

He looks at the other guys before clearing his throat.

"Well… you can come with me for Christmas, if you'd like. You'd be more than welcome," he suggests. Just the thought makes your eyes widen.

"Why would I go home with you for Christmas?" you ask, confused.

You watch the tips of his ears turn red and he shakes his head oddly.

"I mean, it was just a suggestion. You'd be welcome at my house. My parents are really kind," he whispers softly.

Taehyung looks at Jimin and they wink in tandem to one another.

"You should go, Y/N! I'm sure it would be a lot of fun! Better than sitting in your room eating ramen for Christmas!" Taehyung cheers as he throws a bunch of socks into his suitcase.

"I couldn't intrude," you reply softly, looking down at your hands.

Go home with Hoseok for Christmas? Why would you ever do such a thing? Sure, he's one of your best friends but… you would meet his parents. You would sit around the table like a family. That's just… insane.

"You wouldn't be intruding. Plus, my parents know all about you. They'd love to meet you," Hobi says, knocking his knee into yours.

"You tell your parents about me?" your voice is small and distant as you pick at the skin around your nails.

"Of course I do. You're amazing," his voice is enraptured with a breathy laugh and now you can feel your ears starting to warm up.

There's silence for a moment which Taehyung is more than happy to break. "That's perfect! See, Y/N! You won't be alone for Christmas!"

You hum uneasily before looking over to Hoseok as he tilts his head at you. His eyes crease in delight and his expression is one of pure earnestness.

You don't want to be alone for the holidays. Because, when you're truly alone the sadness sets in.

"You're sure it's okay?" you ask him and his smile widens at your words.

"I'm positive," he replies as he slings his arm over your shoulder.

Hoseok was used to your silence by now. It doesn't bother him one bit, it's just nice to know that you're sitting beside him.

With his wrist up on the steering wheel, his eyes glance over and it warms his heart to see you taking in the colorful Christmas lights strung up on houses.

It's a pleasant surprise to him when you speak first. "I didn't buy your parents any presents."

Hoseok lets out an amused chuckle as he focuses back on the road.

"You don't need presents, you are the present for Christmas." he lets out a laugh as you elbow his ribs. "Hey! I'm driving! You maniac!" he yells as you chuckle.

"I'm serious! I need to buy your parents something at least!" you complain as you enter town from the outskirts.

"We can stop at Jeulgeoum." he replies as you continue to drive.

The town he grew up in is very small. Like it's own community. You feel like the Grinch as Hoseok starts to wave at random people that notice his car in the middle of the street.

You really, really hate holidays. Your parents were never excited to spend time with you like you used to watch in movies. Even if it was two days out of the whole year, it was more like a hassle to them.

As Hoseok continues to wave, you find yourself sliding down in the passenger's seat. You pull your hood up, eyes fixed on the dashboard.

"That's Mr. Lee. He makes the best mochi in the town center. I used to go into town with my sister and he used to make me dance for free pieces of rice cake." his voice is filled with warmth as he recalls the memory. You find your head peeking up to look at the old man and the corner of your lips turns upwards as he waves wildly to Hoseok.

The car slows down and you look over to the handsome boy as he lowers his window.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Lee!" Hoseok cheers out the window.

"You as well, Hoseok. Merry Christmas to you and your girlfriend." Widening your eyes, you pull your hood up. You train your eyes on your jeans as you lower your head.

This was a BAD idea. It hadn't even occurred to you that people would call you his girlfriend. Then, you'd have to waste your breath explaining that you're just friends and why you're with him rather than your family.

"Sorry about that." Hobi whispers as he rolls up his window.

You hum in agreement as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Just try to enjoy yourself. I know that it's hard but you might just have fun," he says softly.

Hoseok seemed to know everyone which isn't shocking. He's so absolutely kind and he did grow up here.

Entering Jeulgeoum, you're thankful for the heat that rushes to your cheeks as soon as you step in.

"My mom likes glass figurines." Hoseok says as he closes the door shut behind you.

There was glass as far as the eye can see and your first thought is do not fucking touch anything. You will not let your clumsiness embarrass you today.

"Welcome to Jeul- Jung Hoseok?!" The warm voice makes you turn your head and you feel yourself relaxing at the older woman as she smiles widely at the sight of him.

"Hi Mrs. Kim! Merry Christmas!" he says, pulling down the hood of his coat.

His black hair is sticking up at odd ends and you notice how endearing it is. His smile is wide, cheekbones bouncing up to the heavens as the woman gasps.

"Oh my goodness! Merry Christmas!" she cheers, rounding the register to get a good look at him.

Awkwardly, you look around at the glass pieces.

"Well you've gotten so big! It feels like almost yesterday I was kicking you out of my shop with the back of a broom." you smirk at her words, you can't imagine Hoseok running in here like a bull in a China shop.

"And who is this?" your heart begins to beat faster and you look at Hobi as his smile becomes warm.

"This is my friend, Y/N." he slings his arm over your shoulder for good measure.

You bow your head to Mrs. Kim taking off your hood. Her chubby cheeks are jolly and sweet as she bows her head back to you.

"Well, aren't you just gorgeous. A friend or a girlfriend?" Mrs. Kim quips as she rounds the register once more.

Her question makes you blush fiercely, your neck heating up quicker than a fireplace ever could.

"Just a friend. A really, really good friend." he replies as his hand drifts over your shoulder comfortably.

Mrs. Kim hums playfully and you feel him tug at your body. "Let's look for something."

Your eyes are enraptured by the glass figures. They're so incredibly detailed and gorgeously cut. It's really a wonderful skill.

"She makes all of these?" you find yourself asking, your hand reaches for a figure but you back away quickly at the simple thought of breaking it.

"Oh, yeah. Mrs. Kim is an artist with this stuff. I made one once when I was younger. Come look." Pulling you down the long aisles, you reach a glass case at the back of the store.

"All of the kids in town could make one when they turned ten," his eyes glance over the figures before he's snapping his fingers and pointing. "That's mine," he says happily.

Your eyes narrow at the small figure and you tilt your head at it. You try to be polite, humming inquisitively as you stare.

"It's supposed to be a…" No words come to mind as you look at the jagged and misshapen pieces that are seemingly glued together.

"It's the Hulk," he says proudly and you nod slowly, your eyebrows furrowing.

"I… see," you murmur to yourself.

"I'm just kidding, this shit is ugly. I have no idea what the fuck I was making," he says and you elbow him in the ribs with a giggle as you stand up straight.

Looking up at him, it's almost as if you're noticing his eyes for the first time. Cinnamon colored irises with flecks of coffee that send a warmth spreading throughout your chest.

"Come on. My mom really likes snow globes," he says with a wink.

The selection of snow globes was actually surprising. The one that catches your attention first is a small boy standing on one leg as he skates around a pond. The town in the background is so tiny and for some reason it reminds you of the man standing beside you.

Without a second thought, you reach for it and you find Hoseok's hand on top of yours.

Pulling your hand away from the warmth of his, you find yourself smiling almost to an embarrassing state.

"Great minds think alike," he quips as he picks it up.

You snort gently, a breathy noise as he inspects the snow globe closer.

"Looks like me," he decided before pulling you towards the register.

"One Jung Hoseok looking snow globe to go please," he jokes as he pulls out his wallet.

"Hobi," you complain as you pull out yours.

Grabbing your wallet, he stuffs it into his back pocket before opening up his.

"It won't be my present if you pay for it!" you whine gently as he leans up against the counter.

"It's from the both of us," he says as he hands Mrs. Kim his credit card.

Rolling your eyes, you watch the small flecks of fake snow swirl around the snow globe. Maybe Christmas with Hobi isn't so bad.

It wasn't a long drive from Jeulgeoum to his family house. But, every inch closer you seemed to get, your nervousness was reaching an all level high.

What if his parents didn't like you? What if you were just intruding on their special holiday plans?

"Hey," Hoseok calls to you as he pulls off of the long road. Rows of houses begin to line the street and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Looking over at him, he slows down the car.

"You okay?" he asks, concerned.

"What? Yes. No, I'm fine," you say quickly and he can hardly believe you at this point.

"Whoa. Whoa," he pulls over the car before turning fully to you.

Your eyes focus on a blown up Santa that seems to sway in the chilly December breeze.

"You're going to have a lot of fun. Believe me, and I know you don't do fun. My parents are really, really nice people. You aren't intruding and you aren't unwelcome. I promise. You'll see," he says as he puts his hand on your knee.

You feel him squeeze gently and you find yourself calming down almost immediately.

"Okay," you whisper softly.

"Okay," he replies as he gives your knee one more squeeze.

Parking in front of his childhood home, you can see your friend relax. Almost as if he's been on a long journey and he's finally comfortable again.

The house is big, Christmas lights strung up from the gutters and down the columns that hold up the facade of the house.

"My mom always goes crazy with decorations," he says as he opens up the car door.

He's not wrong, a multitude of lit up statues litter the front lawn but they're all perfectly positioned.

Your favorite is the snowman standing right before the walkway.

Hoseok smirks to himself as he gathers your bags from the backseat.

"It's pretty," you find yourself saying as you climb out of the car.

Tugging your coat closer to your body, something about this feels sweet. Your parents were never that big into holidays and they always leapt at the chance to go somewhere warmer as soon as the temperature dropped.

You find yourself realizing that you've never really had a true Christmas. Or, one like the movies, anyway.

"Hold your snow globe," Hoseok calls to you as he puts the neatly wrapped package on the hood of the car.

You grab the package, holding on to it for dear life as he slings bags over his shoulders.

You didn't pack much but two bags is still a bit much to have on top of his own.

"I'll carry my bags," you tell him as you walk around the Hyundai.

He frowns as you hold your hand out.

"You're going to get me in trouble," he jeers and you shake your hand almost impatiently.

Rolling his eyes, he gives you your bags and he watches as you haul them over your shoulder.

"I can carry them, y'know. I'm not broken," he says as he walks by your side towards his house.

"I'm not broken either," you counter and he chuckles to himself.

Stepping in front of the snowman, he tugs off his scarf. He wraps the warm fabric around its neck before smirking.

"Now he's ready for Christmas." The act makes you smile and he winks at you as you walk up the long walkway towards the house.

You take large, deep breaths as shadows flit by the windows.

"Just enjoy yourself," Hoseok tells you as he jogs up the steps of the patio.

He checks on you once more, rubbing his hand over your arm before knocking on the door.

The sound frays your nerves as you clutch tighter onto the gift box in your hand.

You can hear animated talking behind the front door. As the door opens, you find yourself smiling as Hoseok throws his arms around who you assume is his mother.

"Merry Christmas!" he cries out happily and she replies with a giggle.

"Merry Christmas, my Seok," he chuckles as he squeezes her tight to his body.

Pulling away, her eyes find yours and the smile she gives is so like Hoseok's you suddenly feel comfortable. Running her fingers through her black bob cut, she looks you over before frowning.

"Yah. Why is she carrying her own bags?" his mother chides to her son.

He narrows his eyes at you playfully before folding his arms, "I told you, you got me in trouble."

With a smirk, you shrug to him.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N! We've heard so much about you! You're very welcome here," his mother says as she hugs you tightly.

It takes you a second, not quite used to parental affection, before you're hugging her back.

"Who's that?! My smelly brother?" you hear from inside and you giggle as Hoseok grimaces.

"Hi noona!" he calls loudly from the doorway.

"Come in, come in." his mom ushers you in and he holds his arm out for you to go in first.

How gentlemanly.

You can smell spices in the air, can hear animated talking and it feels strange to be in such a comforting atmosphere. You've never had this in your life.

"Thank you so much for letting me come, Mrs. Jung." you say softly as Hobi pulls the bags from your shoulder.

Taking off her apron, she clicks her teeth.

"Nonsense. We've heard all about you from Seok, it's like we know you already. And, please, call me Eunsook," she says as his father stands up from the couch.

You're used to sons shaking their fathers hands. Taehyung and Jimin do it on the regular so it's weird to see Hoseok hug his father so tightly.

"Welcome home, kid." he says before pulling away.

Mr. Jung looks over at you, a kind smile plastered on his face as he leans in for a hug.

"Welcome Y/N. Please, call me Baekgu," you nod as he pats your back gently.

"Thank you for being so welcoming," you whisper.

"Okay, let's not overwhelm her. It must be odd to be surrounded by new people. Why don't you both go upstairs and get comfortable. Then, when you come down maybe Y/N can help me make my sugar cookies." Hoseok was raised so well by his folks.

"I'd love that," you reply earnestly.

"Come on," Hoseok whispers in your ear.

Starting to pad up the carpeted steps, he turns his attention to his mother as she calls his name.

"You'll be sharing a room, hope you don't mind. The extra guest bedroom was converted to a home office," your eyes widen as you stare down at the carpet.

"Oh Jesus," you whisper fiercely to yourself.

Hoseok chuckles uncomfortably as he pulls the bags tighter to his shoulder.

His childhood bedroom is nothing like you thought it would be. Most kids, including yourself, had posters covering every inch of the walls but not his room. It's chic and stylish which isn't far off from how he is now.

You can hear gentle Christmas music wafting through the slightly cracked door as you look at his bed.

You've slept in the same room before while studying or if you all drank too much. But, you've never slept in the same bed as him. And, you've never been alone with each other.

"This'll be fun," he sounds confident and you're not sure if he's trying to mask nervousness with his tone.

"Yeah," you reply breathlessly as you sit on the edge of the bed.

You hear the bags thump onto the ground and you can hardly believe that you're here.

"They're nice, right?" Hobi asks as he shrugs off his coat.

"So nice, no wonder you grew up so well," you say, earning a smile from him.

"Get comfortable and then we'll head back downstairs. My mom must really like you, not even my sister gets to help her make sugar cookies," he calls as he enters the en suite bathroom.

Looking down at your knees, you find yourself smiling. How have you never noticed how precious he is before?

"Y/N! They're coming out perfectly!" Eunsook cheers delighted as she peeks into the oven.

She's so cheery, it's kind of amazing. Your eyes flit to the open living room watching as Hoseok sits beside his father watching Home Alone.

This is so… normal. So perfectly normal. You've never done this before with your parents. You've never felt 'at home' or comfortable around them and they gave birth to you.

"So Y/N," Dawon, Hoseok's sister, calls to you as she fills up your glass with more red wine, "Hoseok never shuts up about you."

"Noona!" Hoseok yells from the living room without even turning his head.

You smirk fondly as you lean down on the island counter.

"What does he say?" you find yourself whispering.

She tilts her head, fingers carding through her brown hair as she leans in. “Mostly how perfect you are.”

“Noona!” Hoseok yells once more and you find yourself smiling above the lip of your glass.

“Hobi is really great. I’m really lucky to have a friend like him,” you reply.

You feel a hand drift over your lower back as he walks into the room.

“Oh, Hobi is it?” Dawon jeers to him.

“Shut up,” he whispers in her ear through clenched teeth before opening up the fridge and grabbing a beer.

She holds her free hand up, a perfect smile plastered on to her face.

“Hoseok tells us all the time how happy he is to have found such a good friend. But, he never told us how gorgeous you are.” Eunsook says, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel that is over her shoulder.

“Yes I did,” he replies as he cracks open the bottle cap.

The warmth that radiates over your neck makes you clear your throat. He really has spoken about you to his family. It’s pretty special in your opinion. He could talk about so many other things but he chose to talk about you?

“When?” Dawon counters as she sits up on the barstool.

“All the time,” he mumbles as he throws the bottle cap into the garbage.

“All you told me was that Y/N was so beautiful and you’re so lucky that you get to spend time with her even when Taehyung and Jimin aren’t around,” your eyes find him as he pushes his sister with his shoulder like a warning.

“Yeah… Well… Dad? Did you call me?” he asks, craning his neck to the living room.

“No.” Baekgu calls back but you can hear the humor lacing his voice.

“Oh, that’s so weird. I thought you definitely called me,” Hoseok says, pushing off the kitchen island with widening eyes as he scurries back to the living room.

You find yourself chuckling at his antics and you watch as the legs of your thick red wine slowly make their way back down to the glass.

“Hoseok is amazing. You raised him so well,” you tell Eunsook as she pours herself a glass of wine.

She hums in agreement watching as Hoseok sits down beside his father. “Yes. He was always such a good boy. Hopefully he can find a girlfriend that appreciates him like we all do.”

You nod slowly and it’s the first time anyone around Hoseok mentions a girlfriend. You didn’t even think of that. But, just the notion makes you uncomfortable and you gulp a large mouthful of the red wine to steady yourself.

“You’d be a good girlfriend, of course.” Dawon says flippantly as she clutches the red wine to her chest.

“Noona!” you hear Hoseok scream and all three of you laugh gently as the timer dings signifying the cookies are done baking.

Sitting down at dinner, you find yourself staring into the pot of stew as the others talk around you. Why haven't you ever given much thought to Hobi who’s been by your side for so long now? Eunsook bringing up him getting a girlfriend earlier seemed so far beyond your imagination. But, you couldn’t even imagine him being in a relationship. You couldn’t imagine him not being with you or the other guys anymore. You couldn’t imagine him not being by your side.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Hoseok whispers in your ear.

“Huh?” you ask as you turn your head to him.

“Eat.” He murmurs with a smile, nodding his head to your bowl. You hum in response as you pick up your spoon.

You feel his knee press against your thigh and it’s become a constant that you welcome so dearly. It grounds you, in all honesty. Brings you back to reality.

“So, Y/N. Seok tells me that your parents went on vacation for Christmas.” Baekgu says as he sets down his spoon.

Clearing your throat, you look up at him. “Yeah. My parents don’t really like the cold or… festivities so they usually just go away for most major holidays.” You reply as you tuck into your stew.

Eunsook hums curiously and you know you should probably feel embarrassed but you’re already so comfortable here that it doesn’t seem to bother you as much.

“Well, you can come here for any holidays. If Hoseok starts coming without you then I’ll be very sad. You’re a great girl,” his mother says with a smile.

This is family. And, you can’t believe you’ve never really had one before.

Hoseok smirks down into his bowl before pouring you another glass of wine. “See. Told you,” he whispers in your ear.

By the end of the evening, you found yourself laughing loudly and listening attentively which is something that doesn’t come easily to you.

Hoseok probably has never heard you laugh so earnestly and the noise is just as gorgeous as you are.

Leaning back against the arm of the couch, he watches you as you listen to Dawon. God, you don’t even know how amazing you are. But, he does. He always has known. You were in every one of his classes and he found it so difficult to pay attention with you around him.

You were so opinionated. So smart. So beautiful. You were everything he loved and you couldn't even see it.

He smiles as you press your thigh against his knee. Even if he could only ever be your friend, he’d be okay with that because being around you was worth it all. Every single second.

“So Hoseok thinks it would be funny to throw my favorite doll out the window. So what do I do? I threw his action figures up onto the roof and he was crying for hours and hours until dad went up with a ladder to go grab them.” Dawon says animatedly and you giggle along with Eunsook as she tells the story.

Turning your head to Hobi, you find he’s already staring at you. His cinnamon irises are alight with warmth and joy. It makes something bloom inside of you, something so precious and perfect.

“She’s missing out on the detail where I threw her doll out the window because she tripped me up the stairs,” he mumbles as he brings his beer bottle to his lips.

"It was an accident!" she counters from underneath the Christmas tree.

"I was five. Nothing was an accident back then," he chuckles as you giggle, leaning back into the comfort of the couch.

"Yeah, well I was nine and it was an accident."

You hear them continue to bicker as you stare at the fireplace. The embers burn hot, rising high into the air. You watch the logs crackle, small veins burning bright oranges and reds. Feeling Hoseok's hand absentmindedly pressing to your back, you tilt your head to the lip of the couch.

You wouldn't want him to get a girlfriend. You wouldn't want to be without him.

He takes away all your loneliness and your pain. He makes you smile and he makes you happy. He makes you think that just being in his presence, it's like being with someone that's your own.

"Let's go up to bed," he whispers in your ear.

You force yourself to sit up, eyes ripping away from the fire.

"Good night," you tell his parents and they reply with the same.

"Use prot-" Dawon's voice is cut off by Hoseok as he follows you to the stairs.

"Noona!" he calls quickly, narrowing his eyes at her as she giggles.

"My sister can be annoying sometimes. I'm sorry," he says as he closes the bedroom door behind you both.

You smile fondly as you sit down on the bed. "I really like your sister. She's incredible."

He hums with a chuckle as he takes off his shirt.

"Yeah. Okay," he quips back.

Your eyes rake over his toned upper body. The way his abs press against his golden skin has you averting your eyes so quickly. Suddenly, it feels like it's a thousand degrees in here.

"Why'd you invite me?" you find yourself asking as he throws on an oversized t-shirt.

Stopping in his tracks to the bathroom, he turns on one heel to look at you.

"Because you deserve to be with loving people for the holidays or just in general, really," he answers you with a raised eyebrow.

"So you were taking pity on me? I'm a charity case," you whisper.

Maybe it's all the wine or maybe it's just how insecure you truly are but this is coming out of nowhere and you can't stop it.

"What? No. Of course I'm not taking pity on you. I wanted to spend Christmas with you," he replies, confused.

"Really? Because it feels like maybe you're just entertaining me because I had nowhere to go. Maybe you should have brought a girlfriend or something!"

Ah, there it is. It's jealousy. The combination of jealousy and wine is not a fearsome friend to you, apparently.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asks, appalled as he leans against the door frame of his bathroom.

"You should have brought Hana or Jaeeun with you, they like you and want to be your girlfriend," you say as your toes dig into the carpeting beneath you.

He scoffs loudly, his head lolling back at the simple mention of the other girls.

"I don't want Hana or Jaeeun to meet my fucking parents! I wanted you to meet my parents!" he counters as he walks towards you.

"Why me? So I could see what I'm missing in my own family?!" you ask, standing up.

"No! I wanted you to meet my family because I fucking love you!" he yells as he steps in front of you.

Oh.

You blink slowly at his confession. The only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and you stare at his neck as it begins to flush pink.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles, his fingers carding through his hair as he takes a deep breath.

He goes to walk away but you grab onto his shirt to keep him in front of you.

"You love me?" you ask softly, almost as if you can't believe what you've heard.

"Yeah. Of course I fucking do. Don't be ridiculous. I've always loved you, since Advanced Science in freshman year. I was so pissed when Jaemin asked you out before I could. And then I was even more pissed when that son of bitch cheated on you. Because you don't deserve that. You deserve everything. And even if I'm just your friend, I still try to give it to you," his admission is like a loaded hand grenade that's been thrown at your feet.

"Hobi," you whisper and he runs his hands over his face.

"I don't want your pity or whatever it is you think you're going to give me," he mumbles as his eyes flutter shut.

Looking up at his face, you watch his perfectly shaped lips part for breath. You've always been so dense to not realize it. Everything that he does when you're together, it's all for you. It's all to make you smile. To make you happy.

Standing up on the tips of your toes, you press your lips to his. He shudders against your lips, eyes widening for a second before cupping the sides of your head.

He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss as his thumbs graze over the apples of your cheeks.

With a gentle sigh, you feel your body relax and melt against his.

He's always been for you. Even if it's taken you this long to understand.

"Y/N." Hobi whispers against your lips confused but you silence him again with another kiss.

He moans against your lips gently, pushing you down into the bed as his fingers intertwined into your hair.

"What are you telling me?" he asks as you run your hand over his arms.

"That I'm yours," you reply.

That was the first holiday he brought love into your heart.

Every holiday afterwards was just as perfect.

He kept up stupid traditions that were so corny that you couldn't help but love. Even making Arbor day special. Yeah. Arbor day. He bought a sapling just for you both to plant on the campus before you graduated so there was always something blooming from where you first met.

He's lovesick and adoring. And, he's all yours.

You loved spending Christmas and Chuseok with him. You've grown to love his family like your own and even five years later nothing has changed. He was so perfectly yours every second of the day.

"Baby girl," you hear from the bedroom. Your head turns to your husband's voice and you smile at how whiney he sounds.

"What's wrong?" you ask as you get up from the couch.

"What sounds better, deck my balls or stop staring at my presents?" Hoseok asks as he holds up two of his ugly Christmas sweaters.

You grimace, leaning against the doorjamb as he smiles widely.

"You are not wearing those to the cabin," you tell him.

With a pout, he tosses the sweaters onto your bed. "And, why not? They're festive."

"They're an abomination. If you wear those sweaters, I'm not sucking your dick until the New Year," you retort as he wraps his arms around you.

"No ugly sweaters. Got it. Yes, ma'am," he mumbles as he leans down to kiss you. Giggling into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I feel bad that we aren't going to your parents this year," you whisper against him and he wrinkles his nose cutely at your words.

"Well, we should have a Christmas all to ourselves sometimes too, baby. We're married now, we have to make traditions for ourselves too," you hum in agreement as he hugs you tightly.

"Can I bring the 'it's not going to lick itself' candy cane shirt?" he asks with a gorgeous smile.

"I will hit you," you threaten as he pulls away.

Holding up his hands, he chuckles to himself before going back to packing your bags.

The journey up to the cabin is peaceful. You stare at the snow covered limbs on the trees as you continue to drive down the long road.

You feel Hobi squeeze your hand and your eyes are on him in seconds.

"I love spending the holidays with you," he says, bringing your hand up to his lips.

With a smile, you angle your body closer to his upon instinct.

"I kind of really love you," you tell him as he looks over at you.

"Such a weird coincidence. I was thinking I kind of loved you too," he jokes as he looks back at the road.

Pulling up to the cabin, you take in the absolute splendor of it. It's so simplistic and so welcoming. Icicles and snow dot the edges of the awning. You breathe a happy sigh, your breath fogging up in front of you signifying just how cold it is.

Pulling your coat tighter to your body, you watch the man you love gather the multitude of bags from the back of the car.

"Let me help you," you insist as you walk around the car.

"Back off, woman. This is your man's job to do.” Rolling your eyes, you fold your arms as he drapes bag strap after bag strap over his upper body.

"Carry this," he says, handing you a bag of groceries.

You feel the light weight of it before peeking inside.

"This just has bread in it," you say confused.

"Exactly. You hold the bread," he says finitely before slamming the trunk down.

Tossing you the keys to the cabin, he looks up at the wooden house before smiling.

"This is perfect," he whispers to himself.

"Fuck, it's cold." You complain as you enter the cabin. The wooden boards creak under your feet as you step inside. It's so homey in here. So completely domestic.

"Can you put the groceries away while I light a fire?" Hoseok asks you sweetly.

You nod with a giddy smile as he throws your bags down on the large bed.

The fake Christmas tree is kind of adorable with lights strung up in the corner as well as all of the gingham patterns that surround you.

"How do I light this?" Hoseok calls and you snort gently as you start unpacking the groceries.

"With gasoline?" you ask confused, tossing stuff into the fridge.

"You want me to blow up the cabin? I got a renter's fee,” he asks appalled and you shrug with a chuckle.

You watch him as he crouches before the fireplace, how breathtaking he is. You can feel your stomach flipping and coiling with each passing second as you stare.

You were his and he is yours.

When he turns to you and he gives you a smile, you can see the small dimple below his bottom lip that sends a smile spreading over your own face.

He's always had the most gorgeous bone structure. His cheekbones are so high and the apples of his cheeks are so plump in all the right ways.

You find yourself leaning down on the counter with your elbows as your fists tuck beneath your chin.

"Hey!" he cheers as the wood catches on fire.

You giggle, watching as he thrusts his hand in the air.

Shrugging off his coat, he stands up tall. His body proportions are so astounding.

Finally, his eyes meet yours and he tilts his head to you. His eyes flutter shut as he gives you a wide smile.

"You're such a bad worker," he jeers as he walks toward you.

You hum in agreement as you stand back up.

He helps you toss the rest of your groceries into the fridge before wrapping his arms around your waist as you slam the refrigerator closed.

"This is perfect," he whispers in your ear, pressing his chest to your back.

With a smirk, you look around the cabin and you find it hard to disagree.

"Everything with you is perfect," you reply as he squeezes you tight.

"Now you're just saying that to flatter me," he jokes into your ear.

Cuddling up on the sofa, you lay your head on his shoulder as you watch Home Alone. It's a Christmas tradition for Hobi you've come to love. He's watched it every year since he was six.

"They've got good reception up here," he announces as you sip your wine.

"Yeah, they d-" Fatal last words as the electricity cuts out.

Hoseok sits up as the cabin creaks loudly with the sounds of harsh blowing winds.

His head turns to the window and you crawl off of him.

"Oh no," he mumbles, walking towards the windows.

Pulling back the curtains, you watch as large snowflakes fall onto the ground.

"It's a blizzard," he tells you with a wince.

Standing up, you sip your wine as you walk to his side.

The snow is piling up generously and you have a dull, nervous feeling aching throughout your chest.

Your husband gets to work, lighting candles around the cabin like it's his job.

"This is what happens when we don't go to your parents’ house," you sing as you help him light a few candles.

"This is going to ruin my plans," he grumbles to himself before throwing another log into the fire.

Opening the front door to the cabin, you can feel the harsh chill as it whips around outside.

"Oh Hoseok!" you call to him and he turns to the doorway before sighing gently.

There's a wall of snow built up at the door and it looks like you would not be going anywhere for awhile.

"We're snowed in," he mutters before running his fingers through his hair.

You decide to close the door as another breeze bursts through. Turning to your husband, you watch as he picks at some skin on his lip.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," you can hear the sadness enrapturing his voice and it's jarring.

It's rare to ever hear him sad. You don't like it.

"It's okay. We can just lay down and cuddle," you say, setting down your glass of wine on the counter.

You open up your arms to him, wanting a hug and wanting to give him some peace of mind.

He pulls you in, cradling your head to his chest with his hand as he looks around the dim cabin.

"I had plans for us. To go out and build a snowman. To go into town tomorrow and watch the caroling," he murmurs, dejectedly.

You hum as you pull him over to the large bed. "Christmas with you is perfect just on it's own. I don't need all those things to be happy. I have you."

It astounds him sometimes how much you've broken out of your shell.

He pulls back the gingham comforter, letting you crawl into bed first. And then, he's quick to crawl in behind you.

His arm wraps around your waist as he presses his chest flush to your back.

Your fingers begin to play with his, staring at the olden looking paintings that line the walls.

"I can remember the first time I ever saw you," Hoseok whispers in your ear as he cuddles closer to you.

A smirk begins to spread on your face as he kisses the shell of your ear.

"It was in Biology. You were wearing a black hoodie and those black skinny jeans. You didn't have a backpack and you didn't even have a pen. You flipped your notebook open and just fell asleep," you giggle at his words, hearing his smile widen with each word he says.

"I did like to sleep in Biology," you quip.

"But, you always passed the class. You never got lower than a ninety on a test. I was jealous, I used to think to myself, 'Damn. This woman is so fucking smart.' Then I saw you in Advanced Science. That's where you really paid attention. You used to twirl your hair and your finger when you were thinking hard about something," you hum as your eyes flutter shut.

The warmth of his breath spreads over your neck as he buries his face.

"I told Taehyung the first day I saw you without even knowing you were his best friend, 'I'm gonna marry that woman. I'm gonna have kids with her.' I was so… enraptured by you," he breathes out as his hand splays over your stomach.

You can only smile as he presses his hips harder to your backside.

"I was so fucking angry when that guy broke your heart… I can't even remember his name anymore but, I can remember how hurt you were. How broken you were and you didn't deserve it in the least. I wanted to fucking kill him," his hand begins to trail below the hem of your shirt and you shiver at how chilly his skin is.

"I was so fucking happy when you were coming home with me for Christmas our first year. You were so nervous. But, I knew you would love my family and that they would love you. I used to talk about you all the time. My mom would ask me how school was and my first thought would be to tell her how much fun I had with you during a study session or something," your eyes flutter shut as his hand ascends.

"Sounds like you were too busy paying attention to girls than to focus on school," you joke breathlessly as you press your ass against his crotch.

You can hear him moan gently against your ear, his perfect teeth graze your lobe and your lips press into a straight line.

"Then you got into that fight with me in my bedroom. Telling me to take other girls home with me for the holidays. I was so angry that you would even insinuate something like that. And then… then you kissed me. And, I melted. Like snow on the first day of spring," he nibbles on your lobe, his growing erection digging into the globe of your ass.

You moan gently as you feel him grow hard behind you. Your stomach begins to flare with desire. Loins curling with aching need.

"I remember the first time I ever touched your body. You were wearing a blood red thong. Your skin was so flushed for me. Begging me to touch you," his breath is heavier now and you can hear him groan wantonly at the memory.

His hand cups your breast, squeezing gently as he kisses over your shoulder.

"You were so hard," you reply as he presses his now fully hardened erection between your ass cheeks.

"You always make me so fucking hard," he retorts as his free hand pulls yours to his crotch.

"Oh," you whisper breathlessly as he ruts against your palm.

You can feel the thin fabric of his pajamas becoming wet and sticky with precum. Rolling his tongue over your neck, he flips you onto your back.

In the fireplace glow, you watch his black hair fall into his eyes. His pupils blown out with lust, the cinnamon irises you love so deeply growing smaller by the second.

His perfect lips part and his eyes fall to your lips. They linger for a second before he's kissing you passionately.

The tip of his tongue licks over the seam of your lips and you part for him with a whine. His hand grips your breast harder, groaning long and low into the kiss as his tongue runs over yours.

Your hips buck up, your arousal starting to seep from you. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, begging to be filled by your husband.

He pulls away for only a second, taking off his shirt with hurried hands before he's kissing you once more.

Your fingers graze over his golden skin, the feeling producing goosebumps on his body.

You can remember how gorgeous his chest was when you were in his childhood bedroom that first Christmas. How his abs pressed and flexed beneath his skin. Nothing has changed.

Running your fingertips over the plains of his stomach, he gasps into your mouth gently, a carnal needy sound that sends you whimpering below him.

"Oh fuck," he whispers through gritted teeth.

You can smell his gentle cologne as his lips drift over your jawline. He smells of alderwood and citrus. The scent is so wholly him and so perfect.

"Get this off," you hear him command in your ear as he tugs on your tank top.

With a whimper, you sit up on your elbows discarding the fabric and his eyes harden at the state of you beneath him.

"Fuck," he curses before his lips are back on your skin.

Your legs part for him as he situates himself between them. His hands reach behind your back as he kisses down the column of your neck, slowly pulling down your bra straps.

He leaves his marks, pretty red and pink patches that signify you as his.

"I want everything with you. I want it all," he whispers against your collarbone.

"You have me," you reply as you card your fingers through his hair.

"I want to have a baby," he says as he pulls away from your skin.

Your heart begins to thud faster in the recesses of your chest. You've mentioned it in passing, you've commented on it in short spurts but you've never talked about it.

If it just happened, it happened. But, to hear him say it. For those words to pass his lips, you can feel yourself almost becoming euphoric.

"I want you to have my baby inside of you. Want to feel my baby growing in your belly," his voice is almost a plea and your hips lift at the needy sound.

"Yes," you reply.

His lips are on your fiercely once more, kissing your lips red and raw as he tugs off your bra with feral desire.

His hands palm your breasts, thumbs lovingly swiping over your hardening nipples. Gasping into his mouth, he swallows the sound.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and you can feel his erection throbbing with desire against your clothed thigh.

"God, you're so beautiful, sweetheart," he sounds almost drunk off of his desires and you lick your reddened lips as he lowers his head.

His tongue runs circles over your nipple, your back arches with a moan and he wastes no time sliding his hand beneath your back to hold you up against him.

His lips pluck at your nipple, free hand pinching and rolling the other dexterously between his fingertips.

You feel almost crazy from his love. You can feel the desire pumping through your veins like each and every time before.

"Hobi!" you whimper out as your head lolls back.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers above your breast before showing the same treatment to the other.

You feel so hyper aware, especially when his hand glides over your stomach and downward. He pulls at the hem of your leggings, letting the fabric slap back to your skin with a gentle sting. You gasp with anticipation, your hips wiggling at the simple thought of being naked before him.

"Behave, sweetheart," he reminds you and you bite your lower lip, raising your hips patiently.

He kisses over the skin of your stomach, fingers enmeshing in the sides of your leggings and underwear before tugging roughly.

Strings of arousal break and cling to your thighs and your sodden lower lips.

"There she is," he mumbles, throwing your pants over your shoulder flippantly.

His back bows down, arms looping over your thighs locking you in place.

Licking his lips, he looks over your body like you're a meal. Your skin is flushed with wanting and your pussy begins to weep at the sight of him between your thighs.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" he asks rhetorically, just to hear the words fall from your lips.

You open your mouth to reply but it isn't fast enough for his liking, slapping the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. You mewl loudly, back bowing off the bed as you spread your legs wider.

"I want you to eat my pussy. It hurts," you whine, nestling your fingers in his hair.

He hums gently, watching your breath hitch in your throat. He gives you a smirk, one that sends your sex weeping more for him.

He rears his head back, his index and middle finger splaying open your lips with a V motion.

"Your little clit is so swollen, baby. You want me to touch you?" he teases and you nod enthusiastically as you grip his hair harder.

He groans softly at the feeling, his eyes on your breasts as he spits on your sodden cunt.

You shiver at the feeling, lips parting for air as he watches his spittle mix with your arousal.

"God, you're fucking soaked," his voice is that of wonder. You sink down into the bed as he licks a flat stripe up your swollen cunt.

Whimpering his name, your eyes flutter shut.

"Open your eyes. Watch me eat your pretty pussy so well," he commands.

With opening eyes, you moan loudly as he begins to ravage you. His tongue is so fast against your cunt, flicking and pressing into your swollen clit.

"H-Hobi! Fuck!" you cry out as your legs try to press to either side of his head.

His biceps ripple and strain as he holds you apart, suckling and flicking at your bundle of nerves. You find yourself babbling almost incoherently, begging for more as your hips raise.

"Filthy little thing," he whispers against your cunt, his hand leaves your thigh to finger at your tight entrance.

He teases you for what feels like an eternity before thrusting a finger inside of you.

"So tight," he sounds breathless, his cheeks and lips tainted with your arousal.

The sight is almost a visual overload, your hips buck and a loud whine emits from you as you look down at him.

Curling his finger up, he watches how blissed out you are before him. His cock strains against the fabric of his pajamas and he moans softly against your throbbing bud.

"Tell me how much you want my baby," he commands before spitting on your twitching sex.

You can feel your insides bubbling, your stomach flipping and feeling heavy within you as your orgasm approaches.

With a muddled mind and hoarse voice you reply, "S-So badly. Want to have your baby so badly, H-Hobi. I want to give you a baby."

Pleased with your answer, he slides a second finger into your heat. His fingers brush against the soft patch of nerves within you so fast, you feel the air escaping your lungs at a rapid pace.

"You beg to cum for me, sweetheart. Don't forget that. I own this pussy," he reminds you as he pinches your clit.

He watches your hips roll, he hears his name tumble out of your lips like a prayer and he knows just how close to release you are.

When you give him your pleasure, it's like art. So beautiful and so defined.

"Who does this pussy belong to?"

"Y-You! Only you!" you whine as your eyes squeeze shut.

You can feel the pleasure course through your bones. You can feel your mouth going dry as the bubble inside of you threatens to burst.

"Wanna cum! Please! So close!" you beg as you grip his hair harder.

He can feel your pussy clenching around his fingers rhythmically, begging to release.

"Hold it," he instructs as he pinches your clit once more.

Shaking your head, pleasurable tears spring to your eyes. "Want to cum so badly for you. Want to have my pussy open for your cock and cum."

He shivers at your words, tongue lapping at your arousal like a man starved.

"Hobi… Baby, please! I need to cum!" you beg your husband as he adds a third finger.

He watches your chest heave, your breasts thrust up to the sky with stiff peaked nipples that beg for attention. Was there anyone more gorgeous? He can't possibly think so.

"Cum," he commands and you fall back down to the bed.

You orgasm around his fingers, your moans echo off of the cabin walls as you call his name.

With spotty eyes and deaf ears, you can feel him pull out of you.

You feel drunk from pleasure, your head swimming. Hoseok wipes the tears off your cheeks, entering his cum soaked fingers into his mouth.

He moans at your taste, licking up every drop of arousal he can get.

"Shit, you taste so fucking good," he whispers.

Sitting up on your elbows, you focus on his crotch. His fingers hook into the sides of his pants before tugging them down roughly.

His cock slaps headily to his stomach and you lick your lips at the sight.

Long and thick, his cock stands erect. It's always a welcome sight to see. The way his rose veins pepper the length and the way his bulbous head is a needy shade of pink.

Your mouth waters as the seam of his cock begins to spurt more precum. You watch it traipse down lazily towards his balls with rapt fascination.

"Come here," he whispers softly, sitting back on the balls of his feet.

His hands palm your breasts, fingertips plucking at your nipples as you kiss over his chest.

He sighs so gently, almost in disbelief that you're still in front of him naked five years later.

"I can't wait till your tits swell with milk. I want to taste it," he sounds so hopeful, so absolutely enraptured in his dream.

As you lick over his abs, he takes in a sharp breath through his teeth. His eyes rolling back as he palms your breasts rougher.

"Y/N," he moans softly and you practically mewl at the sound.

You take his cock in hand, feeling it twitch with need. He groans loudly as you begin to pump along his shaft, feeling his velvety smooth skin quiver with wanting.

Hoseok grips your hair, making a make-shift ponytail for you before running his thumb over your cheekbone.

"I love you," his words are so sincere, dripping with ardent desire.

"I love you too," you reply.

Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, you moan at the taste of his precum. You can feel his shudder above you, gripping your hair harder. Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he whimpers as you slide down his shaft.

Your cheeks hollow and your hand jerks whatever doesn't fit into your mouth, sending your husband above you murmuring your name incessantly.

"Oh shit. Just like that. Your mouth feels so fucking good. Christ," he cries out as you work assiduously on his cock.

His ragged breathing sends your loins unfurling once more, begging to be touched by the man you call your own.

"Can I fuck your pretty mouth? Please," you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his hand around your head.

The first thrust is gentle, trying to pry open your throat for him. You sputter gently on him, eyes welling up with tears as you grip his thighs.

"Fuck, you look so hot. I love fucking my cock into your mouth," his thumb brushes away a tear as it trails down your cheek.

His thrusts begin to get rougher, his moans become louder. Lapping your tongue along the base of him, you feel your heart swell every time he moans or curses above you.

"Wait until your belly gets nice and big. I'm gonna use you like a little cocksleeve. Bet you'd like that wouldn't you, sweetheart? Me gripping your belly while you take my cock deep into your throat," you moan around him, excited by the idea. The vibrations your moans shoot through him makes his cock twitch in the recesses of your mouth.

"Stop, sweetheart, stop." he instructs as he tugs your hair gently.

Pulling away from him, you raise an eyebrow.

"Was it not okay?" you ask softly.

He shushes you with his lips, arms coddling around you to lay you down.

"It was perfect. I'm saving my cum for your pussy."

Spreading your legs wider with his knees, he kisses you so passionately you think your heart might have stopped.

"Shit," he whispers against your lips.

Prodding the tip of his cock to your entrance, he simply loses himself in your presence.

How long and often he's adored you before you even knew. How lucky he is to have you now.

Entering you slowly, your mouth drops open at how completely full you feel. He grunts gently at the feeling of your velvet walls around him. He kisses you leisurely, taking his time to shower you in pleasure.

Drifting his hand over your womb, he moans your name.

"Fuck baby, look at how tight your pussy is. I can see how big my cock is," he says, drawing your attention to where you're met. You can see the outline of his cock clearly within you and it sets your loins ablaze.

He groans when your cunt throbs around him, "You're going to take my baby, aren't you, sweetheart? Get nice and pregnant for me?"

You nod incessantly as he sits up on his knees. Pulling almost all the way out of you, he slaps your clit with his fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he looks you in the eye.

"Words, sweetheart. You know this," he chides as you squirm on his cock.

"Y-Yes. I'm going to take your cum and get pregnant for you. Get really big with your baby."

Pleased with your words, he thrusts deep inside of you.

Your legs hook around his hips, moaning his name like a prayer as he begins an unrelenting pace.

"Fuck, you're so tight! Shit!" he cries out.

You can feel the emotional pull then, this sexual encounter has so much meaning. Making love to Hoseok was always special but the intent behind this experience is overwhelming.

"God, you're so incredible. Who does this pussy belong to?" he asks, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust.

Hooking your ankles over his shoulders, you preen loudly as each thrust hits the soft spot within you.

"You do! You own my pussy! It's all yours!" you cry out as you grip the bedsheets on either side of you.

"That's fucking right I do," he seethes through his teeth.

The sound of wild winds hitting the cabin walls is drowned out by the fiercely pornographic moaning and obscene squelching of your cunt getting fucked,

Your husband presses one hand to your womb, letting the full feeling of his cock inside overwhelm you, and the other situated at the apex of your thighs. He rubs quick, rough circles to your clit, adoring how high and short your moans are getting.

Your cunt flutters around him, sending his eyes rolling back once more as he fucks you faster.

"Beg for it," he reminds you, a breathy moan attached to the end as his head lolls back.

He knows you so well, he can practically sense what's next.

"P-Please!" you moan feebly, your knuckles go white as your pleasure courses through you.

"That's my good girl. Fuck, you look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart. You look so gorgeous when you're about to burst," you gasp gently, the bubble inside of you expanding to the point of popping.

"Hobi, pl-please!" you beg, letting go of the sheets to grab his arms.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, show me how badly you want my child," he concedes as his balls begin to tighten.

Your eyes scrunch closed as you orgasm the second time, you can faintly feel your arousal squirting onto his cock and thighs.

"Shit. That's so hot, good girl, sweetheart," he moans, letting up on his thrusts before pulling out.

You whine at the loss. Eyes opening, albeit they're heavy with drunken lust.

"Turn over for me," your husband whispers in your ear, staving off his oncoming orgasm by kissing and suckling the skin of your neck.

With a gentle sigh, you turn over for him. Perching your ass in the air, you bury your face into the pillow.

"God, I'm so fucking lucky," Hobi says as his fingertips drift over your swollen cunt.

Gripping your hips roughly, he pulls you back to his cock without another word.

Spanking your ass hard, you can barely let out a gasp as he sinks back into your heat.

He curses loudly, rubbing the now smarting skin on the globe of your ass.

He doesn't relent as he pulls you back onto his cock. His hand reaches from your ass to the back of your neck before he's gripping with fervent need.

"God, fuck!" he curses through his teeth.

You can only feebly whimper his name into the pillow.

"You're gonna cum again for me," he insists, snaking his hand around your thigh.

"No, Hobi. It's too much!" you cry out.

"You can take it, sweetheart," he whispers and you gasp gently at the feeling of his cock throbbing so quickly inside of you.

"I can't wait until your belly is nice and big. Let everyone know I fucked my baby into you. You're gonna look so fucking gorgeous with a big belly and those pretty milk filled tits," murmuring his name incessantly, you lift your head as he rubs circles on your clit.

Looking behind you, you take in the beauty that is your husband. A thin sheen of sweat is on his body, his sideburns and bangs are stuck to his face as he fucks you for all your worth.

His eyes meet yours and your pussy clenches around his cock at the sight. With half lidded eyes, he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Hobi," you whine, tears of pleasure filling your vision as he brings you closer to your third orgasm.

"That's it, sweetheart. Say my fucking name," his hand grips harder at the back of your neck.

"Come here," he groans out, lifting your body to press flush to his chest.

Pressing his hand softly to your throat, his thumb pushes your chin towards him. Kissing you fast and rough, he groans into your mouth.

"Cum," he commands and you fall apart as his will.

His arms encircle you, keeping you upright as he fucks into you.

"Oh, baby. I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm cumming! Take it deep. Give me a baby," you hear him moan loudly in your ear. He presses his forehead to your temple, his thrusts becoming erratic and slow.

He whispers your name once more before he stills within you, finally.

You can feel the warmth of his cum rush into you as he fucks rope after rope inside.

"Oh my God," he grumbles breathlessly.

He pulls you down with him onto the bed and you can't keep yourself from giggling as he holds you so tight.

The sound of the wind is the only thing that draws both of you back to reality.

"I hope we get pregnant," he whispers into your neck.

Humming in agreement, you look out the window as snow continues to fall.

"Me too," you reply truthfully.

His fingers trace undefinable shapes on your stomach as he kisses your shoulder.

"As nice as this is maybe next year we should just go to my parents," he says with a chuckle.

Laughing along with him, you turn your body.

"Maybe that would be best," you say, jutting your thumb towards the snow covered window.

"But, hopefully we'll have a baby to bring with us next year," you can hear the hopefulness in his tone.

You can see his excitement in his tired eyes.

Christmas with Hoseok really isn't so bad.

Snowed In Taglist- @sunkissed725

#snowed in #christmas collab #rockin' around the christmas tropes #ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritingcafe #hoseok smut #best friends to lovers #impreg kink #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

Text

Guys My Age

Older!Bokuto x College!Akaashi

Summary: Akaashi finds his life quite boring yet stressful with his boyfriend and classes, struggling to pay his rent on time. When Kenma suggests looking into a sugar daddy, he’s hesitant, but he soon finds himself in a sweet position.

Warnings: sugar daddy au, anxiety, mentions of food and not eating (not necessarily an eating disorder, I don’t think), mention of drugs and alcohol, abuse, mentions of insecurities, manhandling, mirror sex, blowjob, sex toys [1], fingering, lube, anal, creampie

Akaashi didn’t need to open the door to tell his boyfriend was home. The stench of weed was obvious beyond the door, making it so Akaashi had to plug his nose before even entering the apartment. Sure enough, his boyfriend, Ichiro, was lounging on the couch with some girl he’s never seen before, a bong on the coffee table between them and a blunt between her manicured fingers. Although he was surprised she’d have enough money to pay for nails, he just ignored them as they would do to him.

The apartment complex was located in a pretty shady area, meaning there was a lot more crime and a lot more drug related activity around the area. Akaashi chose it due to cheap costs on his rent, hoping it’d lessen his stress with classes and work. Even when he invited Ichiro to stay at his place, he expected some help with the finances. Instead, he worked himself ragged and retained even more stress because his boyfriend was addicted to weed.

Whether it be drugs or alcohol, Ichiro’s paycheck went towards it. Tossing a glass bottle in the recycling, Akaashi tried to clean up the kitchen a bit while he waited for the water to heat up. Ichiro also didn’t like coffee, so Akaashi’s mother bought him a Keurig to have at his apartment, so he could make single cups of coffee and not worry about extra coffee going to waste. A high pitched giggling was heard behind him, making him turn to see the girl wobbling her way into the kitchen. Finally noticing Akaashi, she seems to smile as if she’s met him before.

“Hey, there! You must be Ichiro’s friend, right?” She slurred, obviously drunk. Akaashi had to force himself to breathe in her presence, the stench of weed and alcohol stronger now that she was in the room.

“His boyfriend, yes,” he replies, then turns back around. She seems to have moved her attention elsewhere, then whines.

“Where’s my bottle?” She whines, stomping her foot like she’s a child. Akaashi rolls his eyes, pressing the buttons to make an extra strong coffee. With her in his home, he’ll need it. Her whining and calling out for her ‘bottle’ doesn’t stop, not once, while he makes a large mug of coffee. He’s leaving soon after, ignoring her completely as he goes into the bedroom. The bedroom is still close by, but he’s able to breathe a bit better and plug his earbuds in to get his work done. Taking out his laptop and stretching a bit, he gets to work.

By the time his stomach is grumbling for some food, it’s already dark out and the apartment has quieted down. Expecting the two to be passed out, Akaashi exits the bedroom to find them missing, bong and bits of weed left behind. Rolling his eyes, he goes to clean it up. The first time he cleaned it up, he decided to throw away the small bits of weed left behind and clean the bong, starting a fight with Ichiro on accident. Akaashi may be a pretty big guy, but he isn’t one for confrontation, just letting Ichiro berate and hit him for “wasting his shit” as he said. Sighing at the memory, Akaashi swiped the bits into a plastic bag and wiped the rim of the bong, putting them both in a cabinet in the kitchen. It had a lock on it, suppose to keep people out except Ichiro, but it’s been unlocked forever and he never remembers to lock it.

While cooking up a meal in the microwave and texting Kenma, Akaashi gets a notification from Ichiro.

“Don’t wait up for me! Party until late,” is what the message says, making Akaashi roll his eyes. Putting his phone down, he tries to focus on putting food in his belly and finishing his homework. He doesn’t need to worry about what his stupid boyfriend is doing; if he wants to party, smoke, and drink his life away, that’s fine. Akaashi really doesn’t want him living with him anymore, but he’s not confrontational and worries he’ll anger Ichiro again. Taking the TV dinner out of the microwave, he frowns as he mixes his food around, appetite no longer there.

The next day, Akaashi wakes up to an empty bed and an empty house, deciding to skip on breakfast as he gets ready for classes. His university is close by enough he can walk, but he needs an early start. At the university is where he met Yukie, who he shared classes in his first semester with. She’s looking to go into food business, a nutritionist, while he wants to go into literature business. Completely nothing in common, yet she’s easily become a close friend. She also happens to have a meal for Akaashi, somehow sensing he doesn’t eat breakfast most morning.

Speaking of which…

“Keiji-kun! Morning!” Yukie shouts across the campus. Akaashi turns to her, waving as she jogs his way. “I got you an extra plate,” she grins, pulling out a takeout container. Akaashi smiles, grateful, but shakes his head.

“I ate today, actually. Thanks, though,”

“Well it’s here until lunch. Wanna go to the library while waiting for class?” She points to the building where people are pouring out of, rushing to get to their class.

“We could, but I did promise professor—”

“Yeah, yeah, gotta be a good student, I get it,” she waves him off, but her smile tells him it’s in good fun. “I’ll be in the library if you need me, ‘kay?” With that, Akaashi’s waving goodbye as they part ways, his feet leading him into a different part of campus.

Did he have a professor to do work for? No, not today. Did he want to be alone so he could finish his work? Yes, he did.

The day is shorter than most, his classes ending earlier because of the break coming up in the next week. After school, he ends up meeting with Yukie and Kenma at a burger joint, finally munching on some food as he listens to Yukie’s story about the grocery store girl.

“She’s so pretty! I’m positive she flirts with me, she seems to always be there!” She explains, chomping on her burger between bites. “I just gotta ask her out,”

“Or not. She’d probably thing you’re a creep,” Kenma cringed his nose in disgust, nibbling on his nuggets. Neither him nor Akaashi have been big on eating, but Yukie loves food. Especially if it’s cheap and greasy.

“No way, didn’t you hear me? She sounds like she’s into me. I hope she is. She looks like she likes girls, at least, which means I have a chance,” she says, pounding her fist in her palm, making a declaration.

“Isn’t it rude to assume based on stereotypes?” Akaashi asks. “After all, she could just like to dress a specific way, not necessarily dressing in a way to attract other women,”

“No, I’ve seen her interact with men. She’s short with them, leaving no room for small talk. Definitely a lesbian,” Yukie practically huffs, nodding firmly before starting in her second burger. Akaashi and Kenma just look at each other and then shrug, going back to their own food. “Speaking of men, how is the love life in Kozume-land and Akaashi-land?”

“Don’t call it that,” Kenma mumbles, but his face turns red after she says so. Now it’s time for Akaashi and Yukie to look at each other, eyebrows raised as they stare at Kenma. “Why are you looking at me like I said something weird?”

“You’re red,” Akaashi bluntly says. Kenma seems to flush even more at that, shoving two nuggets in his mouth. “Kenma, please don’t choke,”

“F’s non’ y’or bus’fness,” Kenma says around a mouthful of food. Eventually, he’s swallowing the food and sipping on his drink. “That’s none of your business,” he states, more clearly.

“You have a boyfriend!” Yukie shouts, startling the men and people around her. “Or girlfriend? You don’t seem to like girls, though,” she hums in thought, finger on her chin.

“Kenma, I’ve known you since we were 5. It is kind of my business. What if he’s shady? Or she, but you’ve only really dated guys before,”

“Okay, I dated one guy. He wasn’t that great, but he got me a ticket to that one con, so I figured it was a fair trade,” Kenma crosses his arms, but a few more seconds of stares has him cracking. “Ugh, fine. But you have to not tell anyone,”

“We promise,” they both say, smiling as they hold out their pinkies. Once they’ve sworn, Kenma lets out a sigh before telling them the big deal.

“I have a sugar daddy,” he mumbles, face turning red once more. “He’s.. nice enough. I’ve been seeing him for a few months,”

“Months?” Akaashi almost shouts. Completely under his radar, but it suddenly makes sense.

“Living the high life, Kenma-kun,” Yukie giggles, clapping as Kenma hides his face. “Good job!”

“Details. Now.” Akaashi demands, making Kenma lean back in fear or surprise. Maybe both.

“Can we talk about it somewhere else? Not in public at some cheap burger joint?” He asks. A look from Yukie to Akaashi, and their both agreeing, deciding to finish their food as quickly as possible.

Once they were out of the restaurant, they kept up small talk until arriving at Akaashi’s apartment. It was still empty, thankfully, but the smell of weed was still pretty strong. “This place stinks,”

“Yeah, Ichiro’s been smoking weed recently,” which is a lie, as he’s been doing this their entire 2 year relationship. It just got hard to ignore once they began living together a year ago. “It’s.. a bit annoying,”

“A bit? Your couch reeks of it,” Kenma says, wiping the couch to make sure it isn’t dirty. Once he’s satisfied with it, and he has a glass of water, courtesy of Akaashi, he tells his friends the news. “It happened at the end of last semester. It was supposed to be a fun project, looking into companies and what made them popular, so I got this one company. Looking into it, they seemed like adult entertainment, which I thought was gross, but it turned out they were actually made famous because it’s popular for sugar babies. Long story short, that’s what happened,” he finishes. Yukie’s mouth drops open, then she sputters.

“No! That’s just the beginning! Who is it? Who did you find? Is he nice, at least?”

“I made a profile to look into the app more, since you needed one, and ended up browsing options out of curiosity. Most of them looked sleazy, actually. The most sleazy looking one, however, happened to be the first guy that DM’ed me. I used an old picture of me from my senior year in high school, so I thought this guy was a total creep. Turns out he was just looking for a date to some fancy dinner. He works with professional volleyball players and is actually kind of sweet,” he explains, face turning pink as he talks. Akaashi glares a bit, not believing the story.

“But you still have to sleep with him, don’t you? I thought you said sex was gross?” He ponders aloud, making Kenma’s face get darker.

“W-Well, um, it was ju-just lip service, you know? After we set up a schedule and whatnot, he was really respectful of not going further. Then I felt like I was ready, s-so we ended up, um,” Kenma stutters, shifting his hands in his lap and in his seat. “You know what we did. He’s not amazing at it, not like he was trying to break me, b-but he’s very goo-good with his mouth,”

Yukie whistles when he says that, making him hide his face and constant mutters of “why did I say that” over and over again. Akaashi just sighed, finding himself envious of his best friend, finding a guy that actually gives back in return. While Yukie pesters Kenma, Akaashi leaves the couch to go to the bathroom, texting Ichiro.

“Hey, you coming back tonight? I miss you,” he tells him, waiting with bated breath for a reply. Soon enough, the phone is buzzing and he goes to check.

“No, Sonya invited me to another party, so I’ll be staying the night here,” was the reply. Shutting off his phone, Akaashi goes back to his friends to see Kenma covered in a blanket while Yukie pokes him.

“What are you two doing?”

“He’s so shy, despite saying all that stuff. I just find him cute,” she smiles, dimples in her cheeks as Kenma whines from under the blanket. Yukie then turns to him, finally ceasing in her poking. “When’s your boyfriend coming back? I don’t know if he’d like us here,”

“He’s.. at a party. I don’t know when he’s coming back, actually,” Akaashi sighs, deciding to come clean. He’s been lying about how good his relationship is because it was such an interesting and good thing, in his friend’s words, so he wanted to keep the facade. However, they’re obviously having better love lives than him. “He doesn’t hang out here anymore, actually, mostly only to smoke and drink with friends, then leaves,”

“You’re still with someone like that? Keiji, you deserve better,” Yukie has a serious tone Akaashi hasn’t heard before, making his eyes widen. “Obviously he doesn’t care for you,”

“If I was with someone like that, you’d tell me to break up with him. So I’m giving you the advice you’d give me: drop him,” Kenma says, in agreement with Yukie. Akaashi just sighs, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, he’s— he can get mean when he smokes and drinks. There hasn’t been a good time, you know?” Akaashi mumbles, fiddling with his fingers. Even though they understand what he says, they don’t pry. “I’ll work myself up for it, okay?”

The next few days was Akaashi doing precisely that. Ichiro hadn’t come back, spurring Akaashi to feel confident in his decision. Packing his stuff up, Akaashi even added the drugs and alcohol in a bag for him, putting everything by the door. Yukie also ended up spending a few nights at the apartment in case of a fight, ready to defend Akaashi.

The break up was actually quite heartbreaking, but for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t tear filled and full of screaming matches, but rather just soft words and not even a goodbye. Ichiro seemed to not care, taking his stuff and leaving, while Akaashi felt like he just cut a hole inside of him. He may not have loved Ichiro anymore, but he did spend two years with him, and even his final year in high school of knowing him. Yukie and Kenma checked up on him, but they could only help a little as Akaashi stopped doing his homework and showing up to class, even skipping days at work. He only got up to go when they called him and told him he’d be fired if he didn’t start showing up. Even so, Kenma had to pitch in to help with groceries and rent a bit, but eventually decided he’s had enough.

“You need money. You need to fill emptiness in your heart. You also need to focus on school again, so the logical response is to look for a sugar daddy,” he says, making Akaashi’s profile. “Good news is I have pictures of you from our first day at college, so I can make the profile,”

“No old man wants a depressed college student,” Akaashi groans, tightly sealed inside a burrito cocoon of blankets.

“Actually, that’s what they want. Alright, done. ‘Looking for someone to treat me right, preferably someone with half a brain’,” Kenma reads off. Akaashi laughs, a short one that’s full of mock. “Oh please, you’d go brain dead with a sugar daddy that only wants sex,”

“I am not too big on sex, you know,” Akaashi grumbles, not removing himself from the burrito. Kenma just leaves him to it, moving out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, probably to make them both some coffee and lunch. Curious, Akaashi picks up his phone and looks through his profile, scoffing at how pretentious Kenma made him sound. Moving to the different options, Akaashi notices that the sugar daddies available range from late 20s to early 70s, with the creepier and more demanding profiles being from the older ones. Young and rich doesn’t equate experience, he supposes. The options were pretty small, since Akaashi was particular about the guys he was looking at. That was, until he got a notification that someone messaged him.

“Who is it?” Kenma suddenly asks, making Akaashi jump as his thoughts are interrupted.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he sighs, putting his hand on his heart. Kenma didn’t say anything, just watched as Akaashi opened the messages to see a message from someone named “Daddy Owl”. “This guy sounds like a joke,”

“I mean, the guy I met had ‘Sexy and Rich Cat’ with the little ‘&’ symbol,” Kenma drew the symbol on the air. “They’re cheesy, but rich. What did he say?”

“Um.. ‘Hey, hey, hey’,”

“That’s..it?” Kenma sighs, holding out his hand. Akaashi gives him the phone, letting him look at the profile, then put on a disgusted face. “Oh my god,”

“Is he weird? This was a bad idea—”

“He works with //my sugar daddy,” Kenma cuts him off, making Akaashi stop as he just stared. A couple beats of silence before Kenma continued. “Professional volleyball athlete, Bokuto Kōtarō. I’ve heard about him, but didn’t think he was into the sugar baby ordeal. Huh, that’s weird,”

“Bokuto Kōtarō..?” Akaashi repeats his name, thinking about it. “What do I do?”

“Well I texted back, ‘Hey there’, you know how you say it. He — wow, fast reply,” Kenma looks at the phone, Akaashi over his shoulder looking. “‘I was wondering if you were looking to spend time together on the 20, you in?’ Why the 20th?”

“Maybe he has a special event and needs a date?” Akaashi suggests, taking his phone back. “Shouldn’t I be talking to him, not you?”

“Fine. I’ll let you talk to him, but no telling him where you live. Not until you meet in person, at least,” Kenma advises.

“Meet? In person? Like before the.. sugar stuff?”

“Yeah, don’t wanna be used and disposed of like trash, do you? If he doesn’t want to meet up, it’s a red flag. If he wants to meet up and turns out to be nice, bingo. You’re free to give sugar,”

“Oh, okay. I’ll suggest it, then.” Akaashi turns back to his phone, telling Bokuto that he’s willing to hang out on the 20th, but only if they can meet beforehand. While waiting anxiously for a reply, Kenma decides to leave the bedroom, going outside the apartment to leave Akaashi to himself for a moment. When the //ding resounds in the room, Akaashi looks to see Bokuto has accepted, asking what day would be best. After setting a day, two weeks before the 20th, Akaashi finally set down his phone and practically collapsed, exhausted from such an interaction.

“So, update?” Kenma asks, reentering the apartment. When his feet pad over to Akaashi’s body, all he gets is a thumbs up. “Well, when is it?” Akaashi holds up one finger. “One day? Tomorrow?” A small shake of the head. “One week?” A nod. “Good, we’ll go shopping tomorrow. No classes, right? Need you to wear something to impress, after all.”

It all happens too fast, buying clothes and getting proper procedure from Kenma, with Yukie attending them for support. Soon enough, Akaashi is pacing as he waits for the clock to turn to the next hour, so he doesn’t get to the coffee shop too early. With it getting chillier in the day, Akaashi felt he’d be comfortable with a cream sweater and some plain black slacks, more expensive than anything he’s owned. Kenma generously bought everything, even asking his own sugar daddy for an extra allowance with no hesitation. With a nice watch on one wrist and practically a new wardrobe, Akaashi felt ready. He convinced Kenma he didn’t need any new shoes, but Kenma frowned when he saw the black converse on Akaashi’s feet. “Really?”

“They’re comfortable. I don’t know if he wants to go walking somewhere or something, plus they’re black. It fits,” he replies, checking his phone one more time. “Okay, it’s 10.”

“Call me if anything’s wrong or he seems weird. I’ll be nearby,” Kenma says. Before Akaashi can ask questions, he is pushed out his apartment and forced to walk down the steps. “Good luck,” Kenma whispers, before running back to the apartment. Well, Kenma’s running is more like fast walking. Akaashi tries to calm his nerves, forcing his feet to move in the direction of the coffee shop. He just hopes Bokuto’s nice.

Well, he’s never been one to be late. Even pushing his departure back and slowly walking to his destination, Akaashi sees nobody outside the café. He isn’t that early, so he hopes Bokuto isn’t late or worse, a no show. As he looks at his phone, looking around occasionally, he hears a boisterous voice from behind him, inside the café. “Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi!”

“I— Bokuto-san?” He asks, turning to see the man himself. His smile is so genuine, Akaashi is taken aback for a moment. “You went inside?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I decided to get here early in case they needed to clear off a table. I was just about to text you when I saw you outside. Guess we both wanted to get here early, huh?” Bokuto grins, then moves to the side, waving his hand towards the door. “The table awaits,”

“You don’t have to be so fancy and.. formal..” Akaashi mumbles, but still thanks Bokuto as he goes into the café. He’s been here before, using the free internet, access to coffee and free refills on Thursdays, and clear air to do homework often. Now, though, he almost feels embarrassed. Bokuto leads him to a table, closer to the back and away from most people. “Oh, so far away? From the windows and door?” Akaashi asks, alarm bells ringing.

“Ah, well, you mentioned you weren’t a fan of crowds on your profile, so I thought it’d be best to be away from crowds. The counter is right over there, but we can move if it’ll make you comfortable,” he suggests, pointing to the areas. Akaashi feels his face warm, finding the small consideration sweet, despite it being so small.

“N-No, that’s fine, Bokuto-san,” he says, sitting down. The spot is well lit and Akaashi is facing the counter, which he can see two baristas at now. Bokuto doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, so Akaashi sighs and tries to relax his tense muscles.

“You can just call me Bokuto, if you want. No need to be so formal, after all,” he laughs, repeating Akaashi’s words back to him. Akaashi lets himself smile a bit at that, shaking his head.

“It’s just how I am. Perhaps after I get to know you that can change,” he says, making Bokuto’s cheeks turn pink. He’s a bit confused, but can’t ask why before the waitress is taking their orders. “Oh, uh, I don’t”

“Don’t worry, get what you like! It’s my treat, after all,” Bokuto chirps, leaning back in his chair. Akaashi nods, then lists off his drink and food, deciding to try the lemon cream cake. “Oh, that sounds good! I’ll have a slice of the lemon cake, too. And a hot chocolate,” Bokuto says, and with that the waitress leaves.

“Not coffee?” Akaashi asks, a small smile. It fits, as Bokuto doesn’t seem like someone who enjoys the bitter drink.

“Ah, no. We never really drank coffee in my house growing up, so I much prefer sweet drinks. If I drink coffee, it’s full of cream and sugar, so it’s not very coffee like, I suppose,” he chuckles, then clears his throat. “Are you a fan of coffee?”

“Well, it helps keep me up when I do homework or gets me through my day. I guess you can say I’m a bit addicted,” Akaashi tries to force a small laugh, but it doesn’t seem as relaxed as Bokuto’s. Thankfully, Bokuto doesn’t point it out.

“That’s right! You mentioned being in school? What do you do? Or, I guess, what do you want to do?”

“Uh, I’m looking to go into the literature business when I graduate. I was thinking of becoming an editor or something similar,”

“Oh, so you‘re doing business classes!” Bokuto points two finger guns in his direction, smiling when Akaashi nods. “I always envied the people who went into business. So much planning ahead and thinking, it’s not really for me,”

“I’m sure studying would help, so don’t say that,”

“Well, I’m more of a people person than a knowledge person. Is that right? It sounds weird, but I’m better with interactions than just thinking,”

“Communications, then. Or a social worker?” Akaashi asks, then stops, making Bokuto raise his brows. “I’m sorry, you have a career ahead of you. There’s no need to try and bring up college stuff,”

“Well, I figured I’d start with something you’re familiar with. You’re so tense, I thought perhaps thinking of something else would help you relax a bit,” Bokuto smiles as Akaashi just stares at him. At that moment, the drinks and cake is brought out. “If you want anything else, let me know!” He chirps, then digs into his cake. Akaashi can’t help but smile, finding himself more relaxed than before.

The date is much better than Akaashi thought it’d be. His biggest worry was not being able to have similar interests, but Bokuto was interested in any topic Akaashi brought up. Even if it seemed out of his knowledge range, he made a point to listen. When Akaashi’s cup ran low, he got up to order another one, asking if he wanted anything else to eat. Akaashi’s never been a big eater, so he declined each time, even though Bokuto decided to try every option on the menu. He also shared, wanting Akaashi to at least have a taste.

When the date was over, Bokuto didn’t even let Akaashi see the check, just handed the waitress his card while they finished up their conversation.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you choose to have a date for the 20th?” Akaashi brings up. He’s been curious since the question was brought up last week.

“Oh! It’s my birthday. I usually spend it with friends, but I’m getting tired of fancy parties and going to clubs. I just wanted a nice dinner and someone to spend it with, so I thought I’d look into someone who’d be willing,” he shrugs, finishing up his hot chocolate. Akaashi nods, then decides he should probably get a present. “Oh, but if you do decide to spend the day with me, you don’t have to give me a present. After all, I supply you with goodies and money, right? You supply me with your presence,”

Akaashi finds it interesting he doesn’t say ‘body’ or anything regarding sex, but doesn’t bring it up. Maybe he doesn’t want to bring it up in public. After the waitress hands back his card, Bokuto thanks her and gets up, signifying the end of the date. Akaashi gets up as well, finding himself greedily wanting to spend more time together.

“Did you want me to walk you home? Or drive you?” Bokuto suddenly asks once they’re outside. Akaashi shakes his head, but thanks Bokuto anyways.

“I live pretty close by, so I’ll be fine,”

“Alright. If you need anything, just let me know,” he gives off finger guns, watching Akaashi walk away. It isn’t until he’s turned a corner does Bokuto finally leave, heading in the opposite direction where parked cars are. Akaashi watches him leave, then continues on his way home. Despite the lack of red flags, he can never be too safe.

When he gets back to the apartment, he finds Kenma still there, but in different attire. “Go somewhere?”

“Game shop. It’s next to the coffee shop you went to,” he replies, not missing a beat. Akaashi sighs, not surprised. “So? How’d it go?”

“He’s way too nice. I feel like there’s a catch. He was even considerate of positioning of the table,” he says. “You mentioned on my profile I don’t like crowds, so he chose a table in the back away from crowds,”

“That’s sus,”

“But then told me that it may give off bad vibes, so he also made sure we were within line sight of the counter and two baristas at a time. They would periodically check up on us, too, but that was probably because Bokuto kept ordering desserts. He has a big sweet tooth,”

“So he’s not sus, is what I’m gathering?”

“Not suspicious, for now. I don’t know, like I said,” he sits next to Kenma, kicking up his feet on the table. “Too good to be true.”

A notification alert shatters the comfortable silence, making Akaashi look at his phone. A DM from Bokuto again, as well as a deposit into his bank account. “Deposit?”

“You link your bank account to the profile if you’re a sugar baby looking for money. He and anyone else can add money whenever they like. How much did he deposit?”

There’s silence before Akaashi speaks, his eyes wide as he just looks at Kenma. “100,000¥.”

After that, Kenma and Yukie were heavily invested. Giving tips, hyping him up, telling his what he should say to Bokuto, everything. When Bokuto asked his sizes, Akaashi asked him why, even though Kenma told him it was probably for a present and he should just tell him. Sure enough, Bokuto planned on buying an outfit for the 20th, tailored to Akaashi’s figure. Then came the question for his address. Kenma was still skeptical, as was Akaashi, but he ultimately decided to place his trust in Bokuto.

A couple days later, a box with his name was delivered. In it, was a nice suit that would take Akaashi years to earn enough money to buy. The button-down shirt was white, with a black business coat and black dress pants, complete with dress shoes and even a pair of black socks. A full outfit for the special day, but under all those clothes was something else, a lingerie set made of lace. He tried on every article of clothing, finding it fit him well and snug, much better than his old baggy clothes. Even the lingerie, though it left nothing to the imagination.

The day of the date had arrived. Akaashi had dressed himself up, feeling good about himself while Kenma gave him a thumbs up. Bokuto would pick him up at 5, so when he got a knock at 4:30, he expected Bokuto. Instead, he got Ichiro, who seemed less drugged up than when they last met. “Ichiro? What are you—?”

“I’m sorry, Akaashi!” Is all he says, bowing deeply. “I haven’t been the same without you. Sleeping on strangers couches, doing nothing but smoking and drinking, I feel like I’m lost,”

“You did that here, too,” Akaashi flatly retorts, hands on his hips. “I told you. I’m tired of dealing with you. You never showed me affection in our last year, it just made sense to break up. An apology can’t change that,”

“You’re just gonna let two years go down the drain? I was your friend before we dated, can we at least stay friends?”

“No, he said he’s done with you, now leave,” Kenma says, entering Ichiro’s view. “He’s not interested, anyways,”

“Oh, is that it? You moved on so easily from me?” He then turned his tune and look at Akaashi. “You’ve been whoring yourself out, is that it?”

“No, that’s not—!”

“Don’t lie to me! You have barely even touched me in the past few months!” Getting more riled up, he steps into the apartment as Akaashi backs up, fear freezing him. Kenma tries to bring Akaashi closer to him, but Ichiro’s anger turns to him. “You’ve probably been lying to him and got him to break up with me, huh? You’ve always had a problem with me,”

“He didn’t do anything, Ichiro. He’s just my friend. Leave him out of your pathetic display of manipulation. And get out,” Akaashi sneers, moving Kenma behind him. He may not be confrontational, but he knows Kenma does even worse with these things. Ichiro seems even more angered by Akaashi’s tone, but he doesn’t get to say anything else.

“Akaashi? What’s going on?” Bokuto stands at the open door, a worried look on his face. Understandable, since he doesn’t know the situation. However, Bokuto’s presence is just fuel to a fire.

“So, this is him? The guy you’ve been fucking behind my back? Seems like a fucking joke, Keiji,”

“We’re not together anymore, Ichiro. Please leave,” Akaashi says, again. Keeping Kenma behind him, his eyes flicker to Bokuto’s, getting the message across.

“You know what-!”

“It’s time to go, Ichiro, was it? Before I call the police,” Bokuto says, grabbing his raised wrist. Bokuto is much stronger than him, but the threat of police makes him laugh.

“Police? They don’t do shit here,”

“Perhaps. But I have friends in high places. I’m sure a phone call later, you’ll be caught for domestic abuse and harassment. Your best option is to leave of your own will. Or I will drag you out,” his voice is serious, but his face is void of emotion, making him seem scarier than if he was angry. Unmoving as if he was stone, Ichiro agrees to leave, stomping his way out. Bokuto stays until he’s gone, then turns to Akaashi and Kenma. “Are you two okay?”

“Fine, thanks,” Kenma mutters, still hiding a bit behind Akaashi.

“A bit frazzled, but okay. Thanks to you,”

“Who was that guy?” Akaashi decides to explain about Ichiro, deciding Bokuto deserves to know everything, since, well, he almost saw the worst of it. “What a asshole, waltzing in here like he owns the place after all that. Should’ve dragged him out myself,” he huffs, crossing his arms. Kenma has retreated to the bedroom while Akaashi tells Bokuto the story, so it’s just the two of them. “After that, I’d be totally understandable if you don’t wanna, like, go anywhere,”

“No, no! I’m fine. I’d probably prefer it, anyways, in case he comes back,” Akaashi fiddles with his fingers at the thought. He doesn’t want to be home alone, and Kenma probably wants to go home himself.

“Are you sure? I promise I won’t be upset. The reservations can be rescheduled,”

“No, I promised to spend time with you, Bokuto-san, so that is what I will do. Just, give me time to freshen up?” Bokuto nods, letting Akaashi give himself time to calm his nerves.

Bokuto drives Akaashi to a fantastic restaurant, one of the few that are only available via reservations and everything served is expensive. It’s luxurious and spacious, making Akaashi wonder if he should even be in such a place. But Bokuto encourages him in, holding out his arm to take as the enter the building. Thankfully, nobody stares at them as they’re brought to their table. Akaashi couldn’t live with the stares of judging gazes from strangers.

“So, what’s the special occasion?” The waiter asks. Bokuto answers, of course.

“Birthday celebration. Any recommendations?”

“Strawberry champagne is highly popular for birthday celebrations, or we can serve regular champagne if you don’t like sweet drinks.” Bokuto asks for a bottle of the strawberry champagne, then asks Akaashi if he wants anything.

“No, I’m good. Just a glass of water, please,” and with that, the waiter leaves. Bokuto looks at Akaashi, no show of emotions. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“You sure you’re okay? I’m paying for the meal, you could have gotten anything you wanted,”

“I’m just not a fan of alcohol. Burns the throat, you know,” he explains. Bokuto doesn’t pry, but a part of Akaashi tells him Bokuto knows why. He may not have mentioned Ichiro got rowdy when he got drunk, but he did mention his abuse of alcohol.

“Also, no need to be so formal. We may not exactly be in a romantic relationship, but it’s an intimate relationship nonetheless, yes?” Bokuto holds out his hand, making Akaashi nod. “So you can call me Bokuto. Or Kōtarō, but you can save that for later,” he winks, making Akaashi’s cheeks heat up. The waiter also happened to bring the drinks at that time, taking their food orders.

Dinner, although his nerves never got quiet, was rather relaxing for Akaashi. Bokuto kept up a steady conversation as he had at the café and managed to get Akaashi thinking of topics other than his current situation. However, before dessert, Akaashi felt his stomach tighten as a woman passed by their table. Looking between the two of them, she crinkled her nose as she looked at Akaashi, but Bokuto didn’t seem to notice. He did, however, notice Akaashi’s mood drop.

“Hm? You’re fiddling, are you okay?” He asks, leaning his cheek on his hand. Akaashi drops his hands, brushing them on his napkin before wringing them.

“It’s just, uh, isn’t it weird for me to be here? Or us? Together? After all, you are older than me, so they probably think, um,” he trails off, fiddling with his fingers again.

“Worried they’ll think bad of us? Worried they’ll think you’re using me?” Bokuto hits the nail on the head, making Akaashi nod and sigh. “Keiji,” the name has his head rising, eyes wide, but listening. “The only one who’s opinion matters to you in this restaurant should be your own, and maybe mine, but you know my thoughts. I only care about your opinion, after all,”

“Really? You think so highly of my tastes?” Akaashi jokes, his smile not reaching his eyes. Bokuto then snaps his fingers, digging in his pocket for something.

“I want you to go to the bathroom and put this on while waiting for dessert. It’ll also give you time to calm your nerves,” Bokuto could read Akaashi like a book. Akaashi took the small box, nodding as he headed for the restroom.

He didn’t quite know what to expect when he opened the box, but he didn’t expect a silver butt plug with a sapphire gem on the bottom. Not real sapphire, of course, Akaashi thinks as he taps on it. In it is a tiny bottle of lube, just enough to coat the toy and, well, plug himself up. Peeling the lace off is tedious, so he just pulls the flimsy fabric to the side as he slides the cold metal inside of him. It fits snugly inside, pressing against his prostate as he redressed himself. Calming his nerves for one reason, but he’s still nervous for other reasons.

When he comes back to the table, Bokuto has a plate of cake in front of him, as well as a big cookie. “Glad you’re back! I got a special cookie! I thought we could split it together,” he smiled, a beaming smile so bright it could wash away insecurities.

“That sounds good,” he replies, setting himself down. Bokuto watches with a grin as he winces, biting his bottom lip as he seats himself comfortably. “I, ah, calmed my nerves,”

“Looks like it,” Bokuto hums, taking a bite of cake. His smile never leaves, seemingly a smile of pride. A smile that never left his face as he finished his dessert.

A calm evening made it seem like a perfect night. With the dinner over, Akaashi felt himself get nervous at the knowledge of what was to come. Even though Bokuto has shown he was nothing but a gentleman, and Kenma gave his stamp of approval, he couldn’t help the nerves. Despite the car ride not being silent, Akaashi couldn’t help but feel awkward. Bokuto seemed to sense he was nervous, being up old funny stories that had him smiling, occasionally laughing, which he was thankful for. It didn’t help that every shift Akaashi made in his seat also slightly shifted the plug. It felt weird do put it in, but as per Bokuto’s request, he did. Of course Bokuto knew about it, but it still made him feel as though he was different than he actually is.

“Alright, we’re here,” Bokuto practically sang, parking the car and turning it off as Akaashi was in awe at the size. It was no grandeur mansion, but it was large and definitely spacious, probably costing a fortune to him. Bokuto opened his car door, helping him out, even though his movements were slow. “Relax, we just got here,” he does a small laugh, shutting the door and locked it, a small chime as it successfully locked.

Entering the house made Akaashi’s heart catch in his throat, his eyes tracing over every object he saw. Although most of the stuff was something he’d probably only see in magazines, not in someone’s house. For example, a quite large statue of a great horned owl on a pedestal near the entrance. Probably made from something like marble, Akaashi thinks, letting his eyes roam as he walks. Bokuto brings him to the living room, a spacious and wide space that’s probably bigger than Akaashi’s whole apartment. “You can relax here. Do you want something to drink? Wine to make you feel better or just some water?”

The option of wine is tempting, but Akaashi knows Kenma would kill him if he had an ounce of alcohol in him tonight. After all, he skipped out on premium champagne at dinner. “No, no, I’d just like some water. Or tea, if you have it?”

“Sure! I have chamomile,” Bokuto gives Akaashi some finger guns, making him smile as he nods. Once he’s bounding off towards his kitchen, Akaashi shifts in his seat as he tries to ease his anxiety and find a comfortable position. The plug is unforgiving, continuously rubbing against Akaashi as he tries to find comfort. A small move has him letting out a low moan, hand flying to his mouth as he scans the room, listening for Bokuto. With nothing, he sighs, deciding to hold still as he looks towards a nearby hallway.

A black carpet lines the hallway, probably leading to restrooms and perhaps a bedroom. Before Akaashi can check, Bokuto is returning with a cup of tea and a glass of wine for himself. Another worry Akaashi had throughout the night, watching Bokuto drink the fruity alcohol served to him that had his cheeks pink and his smile permanent. “Chamomile, piping hot. Don’t burn yourself.”

“Ah, thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi curses himself as he uses the formal tone once more. Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind, knowing he’s trying. It is only their second date, after all, and Bokuto seems to be content with Akaashi’s presence, so hopefully it won’t be their last. He’s worried, of course, that it’ll eventually end, but he shouldn’t worry about that right now. The tea is scalding, but Akaashi finds relief in the hot liquid as it helps to immediately relieve his nerves, a gentle sigh leaving his lips.

“I’ll take it you like it? I don’t drink tea much, so you’re welcome to have any kind when you’re here,” Bokuto hums, taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe when you feel comfortable you can try the wine. Kuroo loves to buy me wine for some reason, so I have lots. I only really like a certain type, but it’s a bit sweet,” Bokuto rambles off, leaning back in the chair. He’s not close too Akaashi, but he’s close enough. Akaashi is glad for the distance, for once, finding Bokuto’s presence is a lot to handle at once. It can be warm and comforting, but it also can worsen those insecurities he buries deep inside. “Done?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you, again,”

“Don’t worry about it. I have to be a good host, no?” He chuckles, walking back into the kitchen. When he returns, he doesn’t sit in the chair again, but rather beside Akaashi on the loveseat. Crossing his legs, he puts his arm on the back of the loveseat, but still keeping a space between him and Akaashi. Whether it’s on purpose or an accident, Akaashi can’t help but overthink everything Bokuto does. “Keiji, if you’re too anxious, we don’t have to do anything, you know?”

“No, of course I know, but I’m—”

“Your shoulders are tense, your back has been rigid almost all evening. I know you mentioned having back pain when we were at the café, so I’ve been concerned.”

“I— You remembered that?” Akaashi squints, disbelieving that Bokuto would retain that information.

“Yeah, and, uh, this may be a bit embarrassing, but I actually did a bit of research on back massages. You mentioned you liked the smell of peppermint, correct?” A small nod. “I thought maybe one day I could massage the stress from your muscles. I get them all the time due to my work, so it was a bit of good information to learn.”

“Actually, I’d like that,” Akaashi then turns his body closer to Bokuto, letting their legs touch. “But today is your birthday, is it not? The whole day is supposed to be about you.” Bokuto’s hums in agreement, bringing his hand to cup Akaashi’s face. It stays there for a bit, Akaashi’s eyes fluttering as he leans into the warmth.

“Can I kiss you?” Bokuto whispers, his lips inching closer to Akaashi’s. Like it’s their first date again, Akaashi nods, meeting Bokuto’s lips with his own. It’s a kiss for lovers, one that’s deep and has Bokuto practically pushing Akaashi on the loveseat, his hand leaving the furniture to support Akaashi’s head. When Bokuto lets out a low groan from deep in his throat, Akaashi breaks the kiss as Bokuto chases his lips, stealing another kiss.

“Shouldn’t we move to the bedroom?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to Bokuto’s. “After all, you have a present to unwrap,”

That gets Bokuto moving, picking Akaashi up bridal style with ease as he takes long strides to the bedroom. It’s close enough by, a short trip and then Bokuto’s closing a door with his foot, setting Akaashi down on a large bed. The mattress is soft and moves along with his weight, a feel akin to a cloud compared to the futon he usually sleeps on at his apartment. He can’t spend too much time admiring the bed, however, as Bokuto’s eager lips claim his once more. Akaashi can’t even complain when Bokuto starts popping the buttons off of his shirt, too eager to properly discard the material. Everything Akaashi is wearing belongs to Bokuto, technically, even the blooming hickeys on his chest and stomach.

Hands trace over the white lace adorning Akaashi’s body, straps that move from front to back. Even his fingers slide under the material, rubbing against Akaashi’s hardened nipples. His lips graze over the fabric, eyes looking up to see Akaashi looking down at him. Bokuto brings Akaashi’s legs over the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of his pants as his mouth follows, pressing kisses to the growing bulge under the fabric. “A-Ah, Bokuto! Shouldn’t I—”

“Not yet, you deserve a treat for looking so fine tonight. Not to mention, you are my present, are you not?” Bokuto simply says, a low voice that has Akaashi’s face reddening more than it had been. Bokuto continues to undress Akaashi, unbuttoning the pants and unclamping the belt, sliding them off as the rest of the lingerie is revealed. The bottom half hardly covers anything, not doing such a good job in holding back Akaashi’s erection nor hiding the shiny butt plug underneath the thin fabric. Bokuto let’s put a pleased groan, fingers pressing against the toy as Akaashi moans, legs trying to close as his back arches. Even his cock twitches, desperate for attention.

He doesn’t wait long before giving it exactly that, his tongue swiping along the tip as Akaashi’s hands fly to his hair. Another deep groan as he presses kisses along the shaft, sliding his tongue over Akaashi’s balls as well. His fingers find themselves pressing against the toy until they’re pulling it out, making Akaashi whimper as he slowly removes it. He’s not empty for long, as two fingers replace the hard toy and manage to rub against any sensitive spots inside him. With the constant pressure against his prostate and Bokuto’s mouth and tongue pleasing his cock, Akaashi finds himself quickly hurling towards an orgasm.

“N— No, Kōtarō, I—” he moans, hands releasing Bokuto’s hair as his back arches, cum filling Bokuto’s mouth as he drinks it all up. Looking to Akaashi, who has tears in his eyes, Bokuto can’t help but think about how gorgeous he looks like that. “I’m sorry,”

A smack of the lips, and a show of licking his lips. Then his fingers, making Akaashi even more flustered as he watches. “What for? You’ve been edging all day for me, haven’t you? Only reasonable that I’d please you first. You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you?” The pet name is almost too much, Akaashi’s cock practically springing back to life. The name combined with lidded eyes has his stomach warming.

“Well,” Akaashi licks his lips, deciding to give off a sensual smile, “I should give you the second half of your present,”

They change positions after he says that, with Bokuto on the bed as Akaashi places himself between his thighs. Bokuto, with all his strength, practically rips off his own clothes, leaving only his slacks and boxers to be removed. Akaashi takes up the responsibility of removing them, sliding the pants down first, then going to remove his boxers. However, he is only able to free Bokuto’s cock before he stops, eyes wide as he stares at his cock. It’s much bigger than anything he’s ever seen, with a girth that prevents his fingers from touching as they wrap around it. His original plan was go for a deepthroat, but now he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to fit half.

Forgoing completely removing his boxers, Akaashi focuses on his cock instead. Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind, running a hand through Akaashi’s hair as he watches. It’s pleasing to watch as Akaashi figures out what to do. Starting with basics, he lets some saliva dribble onto the tip, pressing his lips to the side as he uses his spit as lube. While one hand rubs the half he can’t put in his mouth, his other hand finds itself on Bokuto’s thigh, feeling the muscle flexing underneath as he forces his legs to stay open. Using his tongue to lick his way back to the top, Akaashi finally puts the tip in his mouth, moaning as he does. The vibrations help in pleasing Bokuto, as he throws his head back at the sensation, hand on the back of Akaashi’s head. As Akaashi takes more into his mouth, he has to stop halfway and simply bob his head, moaning as drool spills from small openings and dribbles down Bokuto’s cock.

“‘Kaashi, fuck,” Bokuto groans, hand never leaving Akaashi’s head. A small hum is all Akaashi can really say, rubbing his tongue against Bokuto’s cock and over the tip as he bobs his head on it. The spit coats his hand as he spreads it over the bit he can’t take in, but it also spills over Bokuto’s balls, with only more being adding with each moment Akaashi sucks him off. He knows he’s getting close, so Akaashi manages to take a bit more, gagging as he does, but it’s the final push for Bokuto to tip over the edge, a loud moan as he coats Akaashi’s throat in thick seed. It’s bitter and sticky, but that doesn’t stop Akaashi from lapping up any excess that escaped his mouth.

Bokuto’s practically breathless at this point, chest heaving as his hands grab Akaashi, bringing him onto his lap. “That was.. the best orgasm I have ever had,” he just says, smiling when Akaashi flushes. “Let’s see if you can top it,”

“I-I really don’t think—” Akaashi’s cut off when Bokuto pushes two fingers into him, a moan escaping as he lays his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. A small //pop is heard, making Akaashi look down to see a small bottle of lube. It looks like it’s a one time use bottle, but it’s small enough that Bokuto could grab it at any time and he wouldn’t have noticed. Bokuto slathers the cold liquid on his cock, hissing as he makes sure each bit is coated. Then, he moves to make sure Akaashi’s hole is slick enough for the least amount of pain. He hasn’t actually been fucked in so long, he’s not entirely sure how well he’ll take Bokuto, but he’s come too far to stop.

“You ready?” Bokuto asks, voice soft as he whispers into Akaashi’s ear. When Akaashi nods, fingers digging into Bokuto’s shoulders as the tip presses against him, Bokuto kisses his shoulders, easing him down. The stretch is painful and brutal, bringing tears to his eyes, but Bokuto never lets his lips leave his shoulder and neck, kisses as each inch pushes him past new limits. It’s only mere second, but it feels as though it’s an eternity before Akaashi is finally seated against Bokuto, his cock filling him up completely. “How you feelin’?”

“I’m fine. A bit— a bit full, that’s all,” he gives a short, small chuckle, shattering the quiet, romantic atmosphere. He can’t really say he’s quite experienced in this department, seeing as Ichiro only preferred blowjobs and maybe handjobs sometimes. But that’s okay, since Bokuto’s fingers are digging into his ass and lifting him up. A moan is ripped from his throat when he’s forced back down, a squelching noise accompanying him as the lube is squished together.

“Damn, I wish you could see the view,” Bokuto growls out, teeth digging into Akaashi’s neck as he moans from another thrust. Akaashi can only catch a glimpse behind him, but he finally notices the mirror on the back of the door. With wide eyes, he flushed again as he buries his face in Bokuto’s neck, only to then lose that space. Bokuto leans back, flashing a grin as he hands move from Akaashi’s ass to his thighs. Now, he’s straddling. “I’d like to see the view from here, too,”

Akaashi can’t respond, finding his mind muddled and tongue tied as his hands are guided to Bokuto’s chest, blunt fingernails scraping against skin, as Bokuto’s hands slide back to his thighs. A small roll of his hips has Bokuto sighing in approval, using his hands to help Akaashi bounce on his lap. Akaashi at least has good stamina and leg strength, able to move without a majority of Bokuto’s help. Figuring this out, Bokuto moves one of his hands to Akaashi’s cock, as it bounces with each thrust, giving it a squeeze as he pumps it. “Ah, Bokuto-san, n-not—”

“Not there? Is that what you’re going to say?” A harsh thrust up has Akaashi momentarily off balance, but he finds his rhythm again. “You’re so selfless, ‘Kaashi. Trying to give and not willing to take. It’s okay to enjoy yourself, too,” Bokuto says, nothing in his voice giving away he’s exerting energy to thrust into Akaashi and lift him up. “You’ve been like this all night,”

“I-I guess I’m just not u-used to it,” Akaashi manages to get out, albeit in between moans. A frown appears on Bokuto’s face, making Akaashi’s stomach drop as he panics. “I—”

Bokuto’s gone back to sitting up, keeping one hand on Akaashi’s back as he stops thrusting. “It’s your ex, isn’t it?” He simply asks. It’s not much of a question as it is a statement, but Akaashi’s silence and avoidant gaze gives him the answer he knew. A small growl comes from his throat, one that has Akaashi’s mind reeling and panicking, made worse when Bokuto pulls out. Akaashi, however, can’t say a word when Bokuto’s easily turning him around, making him face the mirror, then the feeling of being full comes again.

“You deserve better than that,” Bokuto’s words are similar to Kenma’s, making Akaashi’s eyes blur with tears as his legs are spread wide by Bokuto’s hands. A sudden thrust has his hands flying to the back of Bokuto’s head, digging his fingers into his scalp. “Every compliment your way is deflected because you can’t see what I see, you only see what he made you see,” Bokuto practically sneers as he mentions Ichiro’s presence. The anxiousness and fear in Akaashi’s stomach vanishes instantly when he realizes the anger isn’t towards him. “This way, you can decide with your own eyes what to see,” he finishes, eyes focusing on Akaashi’s in the mirror. With his desires laid out and his goal, he gets rougher with his fucking.

A small change of movement has Akaashi seeing stars, barely able to hold his eyes open, let alone watch himself. A firm demand has his eyes, unfocused and glazed, looking into the mirror as he can only focus on how absolutely wrecked he looks. Bokuto has moved his hands from under Akaashi’s thighs, using the bend of his elbow to bend his legs and brought them towards his shoulders. The new position leaves Akaashi gasping for air, feeling his stomach and lungs under pressure he’s never felt before. But it’s a perfect position for the moment. Bokuto has the strength and energy to thrust up into Akaashi as his arms hold his body in a single position, moving down to meet his thrusts. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, but ultimately decides to wrap them around his cock.

“//Fuck, cum for me, pretty boy,” Bokuto grins, a devilish grin that has Akaashi squeezing down on his cock as he moans, head thrown back as his cum shoots out, staining the hardwood floor and getting on some discarded clothes. A satisfied growl is heard from Bokuto, making Akaashi get weak in the knees as the thrusts get even more brutal. Sure enough, Bokuto’s forcing him all the way down as he moans, filling him up with his own hefty load of cum. A few shallow thrusts have him spending his entire load into Akaashi, the two of them moaning as he pulls out. Once removed, sticky cum oozes from Akaashi. Both are covered in a layer of sweat, exhaustion setting in heavily.

Akaashi is too spent to do much of anything, trying to catch his breath from a forceful orgasm and the rough handling. He enjoyed it, of course, but his body isn’t used to such flexibility. Bokuto is able to move much better, getting them both up and moving to the attached bathroom. Akaashi thinks he’ll prepare a bath, but instead he just sets Akaashi on the counter, getting a towel and washcloth to wet with warm water. He doesn’t seem to mind the mess that Akaashi leaks all over his floors and counter, wiping him as best he can while he uses another cloth to wipe away the sweat.

“How you feeling? Was I too rough?” Bokuto nibbles on his lower lip, looking up at Akaashi, who has mostly caught his breath back.

“A bit too rough, perhaps. I don’t think I’ll be walking tomorrow,” he laughs, but continues when Bokuto frowns. “But I liked it. I wouldn’t mind you using your strength in the future,” he smiles, happy when Bokuto’s frown falls and a smile replaces it.

“I’m so glad,” he says, releasing a heavy sigh. “I was worried I went too far, but I just—”

“I know. It’s alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi cuts him off, not wanting to bring up the problem. At least not while Bokuto’s wiping his seed off of Akaashi’s ass and thighs. However, Bokuto frowns again.

“No more ‘Kōtarō’? I got so excited when you called me that, I thought I’d end up spending all night buried inside you,” he practically whines. So shamelessly, in fact, that Akaashi finds himself flustered at his words. “And the way you even said it-!”

“I get it, Bokuto-san!” Akaashi covers his face, getting Bokuto to laugh. Stealing a peek, he finds Bokuto just smiling down at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so easy to fluster that it’s cute.” Akaashi sighs, dropping his hands as Bokuto leaves him, dropping the washcloths off elsewhere. When he comes back, he’s wearing a fresh pair of boxers and some loose hanging pajama pants. In his hands, another pair of boxers and a shirt to match his pants. “I got you a wardrobe ahead of time, just in case I got too excited and ripped your clothes. I also ordered some pajamas for myself, but the shirt was a bit too tight,” he lets out a soft chuckle when he says that. “I can get you some other clothes if you want,”

“No, that’s fine. We’ll match,” Akaashi’s smile makes Bokuto perk up, making his heart hammer as he finds himself enjoying the energetic and happy Bokuto. Once he’s dressed into the boxers, a perfect fit, and wearing the shirt, he’s being carried back to the bed. Clothes are still strewn across the floor, but the mess he made has been cleaned up. Bokuto doesn’t seem like he has much more energy to spend, preferring to crawl into bed with Akaashi.

“I’m so tired, I’m skipping the gym tomorrow morning,” Bokuto groans, settling himself against Akaashi’s back. With his arm under Akaashi’s head, Akaashi rests his hand near his wrist. His other hand rests on Akaashi’s waist, rubbing in soothing circles.

“I’m not surprised. Champagne and wine will tire you out,” Akaashi’s cut off with a yawn, eyelids drooping. “The tea I had also tires people out, so I’m surprised I didn’t pass out,”

“Wine? What do you— Oh! That wasn’t wine! It was actually grape juice,” Bokuto says, making Akaashi turn to look at him. “I don’t like the taste of alcohol, usually only drinking sweet drinks that have little to not burn. The champagne was something I’ve had before, so I knew it was sweet. But it was more so an experiment, I guess? I noticed you seemed to get more tense when I ordered a bottle of champagne, so I wanted to see if you didn’t like the idea of me drinking. I’m guessing bad experiences?”

“I didn’t know you noticed,” Akaashi mumbles, still looking at Bokuto. He just shrugs in response, completely relaxed as he holds Akaashi close.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m good at reading people,” he then presses his head to Akaashi’s. “I also know you’re hesitant to tell me if you don’t like something, you fiddle with your fingers, just like how you fiddle with them when we have different tastes and interests in things,”

“Cannot believe you remember stuff from our first date,” Akaashi just says, but says nothing else. Bokuto doesn’t seem like talking much either, rubbing Akaashi’s back as they both drift off to sleep.

#Birdie’s Bokuto Week 2021 #Bokuto Week #Mr. Kōtarō #Mr. Keiji #bokuaka smut #BB.Kinky #haikyuu smut #tw.alcohol #tw.abuse #tw.drugs #tw.smoking #tw.eating #tw.food #tw.manhandling

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harry-writings · 4 years

Text

Drive Me Wild

- where Harry has a problem expressing emotions, and Y/n talks too much

Masterlist

A/N: mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, indications of depression, and a very mild form of smut (if we can really call it that)

Song mentioned: Invisible String by Taylor Swift

December 23, 2016

“Do you even have feelings for me?”

Celeste was sitting across the booth at their local diner, a half-empty mug of hot chocolate left stale at the table top, her eyes wet and cold just like the December she’d been trying so desperately to feel warm in.

Harry had his hands held together in front of him, his eyes void and stare blank as his mind played back to all the times he’d given his all to her. Sure, he didn’t always do it with a smile on his face or with lovestruck eyes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy.

And how could she not see it? How could she not feel it? He didn’t even bother spending his time with anybody else because he didn’t like anybody else. She was his only company, his only kiss, his only friend.

How was that not enough?

“What would make you think that I don’t?”

She laughed, right in his face, like it wasn’t enough to tear him apart.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She looked serious then, her face fallen and lips frowned. He felt stupid because he must have done something he couldn’t remember, or something to blindly hurt her feelings, yet he had no idea what it was. They were doing so good. “Do you even know how you look at me? Like I’m not even here. Like I’m boring you half to death. I can’t even tell what you’re feeling right now.”

Broken, sad, confused. He wanted to tell her that — he really did — but what would it have mattered? He’d still have that same meaningless stare and that same emptiness that had brought them to that very moment. She wouldn’t believe him even if she wanted to.

And it shouldn’t have broken him as much as it did, considering they weren’t even dating — just testing the waters, feeling each other out, wondering if their dreams could ever belong in their reality — but it hurt him just the same. She was the closest thing to a girlfriend Harry ever had, after all.

“Talking to you is like — it’s like talking to a wall. You’re just… there.”

She stopped to look at him more intentionally then — maybe she had missed something all along. Maybe, there was something he did to show the smallest of his emotions, like a shift in his eye, a pitch in his breath, a quiver of his lip.

But just like every other time, there was nothing. He was incurably empty.

“I think you’ve laughed at something I’ve said maybe, five times?” She let out a breathy chuckle because the tension was so thick she could hardly keep herself together, and she was so nervous, and he was so unpredictable. “And then you have this way with your words where, like you say certain things to beat around the bush about how you truly feel about me, and then it makes me wonder if it’s because you don’t even feel that way at all.”

He wanted to argue with her so bad. He wanted so badly to prove to her how wrong she was but how could he have, when she was so right?

Nobody had ever taught him how to do that — the relationships, the emotions, the vulnerability that came with being human. He couldn’t even recall a single time his parents had laughed at something he had said — couldn’t recall his parents ever having friends over, having date nights, even smiling at one another.

And to make matters worse, he was an only child. He was constantly around the voidance of his parents, the empty conversations, the pit of silences — really, that was all he had ever known. And later, that was what he grew into.

And if he could have changed it, he would have. But how does one go from keeping it all inside, to letting it all out?

He’s tried it all — emptying bottles of wine, smoking down blunts, shoving pills down his throat — and still couldn’t he laugh alongside himself, smile at memories that haven’t let him go, pour his heart out to strangers.

That wasn’t him. That wasn't who he was supposed to be, no matter how hard he tried to be that person for her.

But again, why wasn’t that enough?

“But I’m here, aren’t I?”

Celeste looked at him like it was the last time she was ever going to. And he knew.

“I don’t think you want to be.”

Y/n is utterly incapable of leaving Harry alone.

And Harry’s always alone, Y/n finds. Between every meeting and during every lunch hour, Harry always has a space beside him that’s just as empty and vacant as he is — well, just as empty and vacant as he comes off — and she assumes that’s why nobody’s ever been willing to take it.

But Y/n finds herself beside him more than she finds herself anywhere else.

Everyday when the clock hits twelve and lunch hour begins, Y/n sits in the chair right beside his and talks to him about anything and everything she can think of — the books she’s read, her childhood memories, the dreams she had the previous night — because he shouldn’t be left all alone the way he’s been so used to.

He doesn’t deserve it. He isn’t just a heartless, lifeless man passing through his days and night without feeling anything, he’s so much more than that — so much more than his blank stares, his vacant expressions, and his linear lips.

There’s something so unexplainably mesmerizing and compelling about him, she can’t help but wonder how nobody else has felt it. It’s magnetic, the way he tells the world everything it needs to know by the look and glimmer in his eye.

It’s all there, everything is there, yet nobody sees it except for her.

It’s as if the universe is telling her that right beside him is where she belongs. Nobody else has claimed that spot, after all, and it’s the only place that feels so right to her.

She feels as if it was always waiting for her, long before twelve o’clock, long before they had even met.

August 7, 2016

“Do you know how embarrassing it is?”

Y/n was sat on her kitchen counter in nothing but underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, sobbing and shaking upon the granet, her elbows on her bent knees so her arms were covering her mascara-run face — too ashamed to show herself to the world that’ll only find its way to break her down again.

Cooper was sitting on the barstool just three feet in front of her, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, his tie loose to his collarbones, sleeves rolled up against his elbows, eyes defeated yet raging with resentment.

She had never seen him quite like that — so vengeful and so unforgiving. She was so unloved, she saw it in everything he did that night — from telling her to shut up in front of his friends, to making her take a taxi home because nobody could stand the sound of her voice anymore.

The love of her life didn’t even want to take her home, and that was all she needed to know that everything she had ever held onto was everything that needed to be let go of.

“Darling… it has got to stop at some point. I know it’s because you’re nervous but you don’t do anything to change it.”

But why does she have to have to?

That’s all she wanted to know — all she wanted to scream at him at that moment in time but god forbid she had anything to say to him anymore.

And how many more times did she have to keep wasting her breath trying to convince him that she couldn’t help it no matter how hard she tried — the constant talking, the rambling, the scrambling to tell stories, the muttering in awkward silences.

It was her way of calming down her nerves in new environments she could never seem to adapt to — her way of dealing with groups of unfamiliar faces, her way of coping with the rest of the world.

And it seemed as though no matter where she went, there was no place for her. She constantly felt stuck in someone’s way, felt like she was always blocking the entrance, and no matter how many times she tried to find a corner to shelter herself in, there were people still climbing over her to go their own way, and she was always left behind, beaten to the ground.

She just wanted to catch up so badly, but only did it make her fall backwards, time after time again. Yet she still did it, time after time again.

So, she just kept crying, too embarrassed to look at him, too afraid to speak, too hurt to know that she could never forgive him no matter how hard she tried.

“Your habits become a problem when they negatively affect everybody else around you. Y/n, you barely have friends, you can’t make friends with mine, all because you don’t let anybody else talk.”

And what an over-exaggeration. Of course she let other people have a chance to respond and have side conversations… just maybe not as often as they would have liked. But it wasn’t extreme enough where the only conversations she carried were one-sided — not that she had noticed.

“I used to love you for it but lately it’s just been — it’s been too much. I can hardly stand it anymore. Don’t know how to say it without making you cry.”

There was no way to.

The babbling, the rambling, the talking… it was all in her nature. If somebody didn’t like it, then they didn’t like her, and it was just as simple as that.

There was no way around it — there was no magic serum, no prescription drug, no cure for over-talking. And there were days, endless days, that she felt cursed, because why is the one thing that’s so wrong about her the one thing she can’t fix?

But again, why would she have to?

“So — so all the times you kissed me whenever I started going on tangents wasn’t because you loved me or because you wanted to, it was because you didn’t know how else to shut me up, right? You didn’t want to have to hear me anymore. Didn’t even want to hear me cry.”

He didn’t have to answer her because she already knew the answer herself. What she once thought was manifested from pure love and endearment was just as toxic and conniving as everything else she’d ever put her hands on.

Why couldn’t she just be enough?

She refuses to move her hands away from her face.

“You never loved me.” Y/n whispered beneath the sobs that shook through her already broken soul. “That’s the worst part.”

Harry doesn’t like being alone.

He never has, but he’d been able to tolerate it through the years. He didn’t have much of a choice — forced to shove the feeling down to the very depth of his core and carry it around with him until it faded to a subtle numbness that pricked against his chest with every move he made.

Loneliness now, though, has taken on an entirely different meaning that Harry can’t tolerate no matter how hard he tries. Because now, loneliness means Y/n isn’t beside him, and he despises being away from her.

There’s something about her that’s unexplainably addicting, like a drug he can’t get enough of even when it’s soaking in his veins and taking over every one of his senses — one that gives him withdrawals that make him so far gone he can barely stand on his own two feet.

She’s unlike anybody he’s ever met.

Because though she seems to put herself out for the world to see, there is so much she keeps hidden. He can see it in her eyes — all the darkness and pain that’s been seeped within them, and nobody else has ever seemed to notice, because nobody else seems to care.

But he does. God, how much does he care, how much does he want to curse every person in existence for not seeing how deserving she is to be happy. It’s all she deserves.

And he’s convinced that the universe created her solely for him, because everyday when the clock strikes twelve and lunch hour begins, he’s reminded that she doesn’t choose anybody else — it reminds him that she chooses him, every single day, in a room full of people that are so much more approachable.

She keeps choosing him because somewhere deep down, he makes her happy. And he’ll keep choosing her, too, long after twelve o’clock.

Harry’s having a bad day.

Since the moment he blinked his eyes open, every little thing has been driving him absolutely mad — from somebody honking their horn at another driver (that wasn’t even him), to the way Jeremy asked him to change one of the slides for his upcoming presentation (even though he told him as nicely as he possibly could), everything was getting under his skin and onto his nerves like a newborn leech.

And what’s even worse is that Y/n is aggravating him when normally, he dreads the final minutes of lunch hour because it means they’re going to have to part ways and only see each other at team meetings until it’s time for them to go home.

They’ve been friends for two years and not once has Y/n ever made his leg bounce with impatience, or had him fiddle with his glasses out of anxiousness, or made his jaw clench with annoyance, until today.

It’s only twenty minutes past twelve and Harry is begging for death.

“You see, I didn’t know it at the time, though! I was twelve and the chaperones weren’t around to watch what I was doing. I saw the duck come towards me and for some reason, I really wanted to know what its beak felt like. I didn’t think it would actually bite me, I wasn’t food!”

And normally, he’d nod his head or give her some sort of indication that he was paying attention to her because he always was, but he hasn’t even so much as lifted his head from above his food since she started talking.

“And it hurt! Proper cried and screamed because it was so much worse than I thought it would be. Ducks are evil little things. I remember one time me and my mum were at the park having a picnic when a duck came flying by and almost hitting her right in the —”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Silence.

He shouldn’t be talking to her like this, he knows that, but right now, he can’t seem to dwell on the consequences that’ll surely come after this. This headspace he’s in is so unforgiving, it somehow convinces him that Y/n never talking to him again is exactly what he wants, when it’s so far from it.

This bitterness that’s consuming him is only swallowing him down for today, it’s temporary, he knows this because it’s happened to him before. It makes him act instinctively and selfishly, like he’d tear limb from limb if he doesn’t get what he wants in that very moment in time.

He doesn’t care who he hurts in the process, even if who he hurts is the only person he cares about.

“W — what?”

She knows what she heard, she’s heard it so many times before, she just can’t believe Harry was the one who said it.

Never, in a million years, would she have believed he would ever be the person to make her feel this way — so heartbroken, so lost, so confused. He’s always been so different with her, in ways she couldn’t explain, and it always made her feel worthy of something so good.

It never crossed her mind that he’d betray her like this, she never saw that in him — she never saw him being angry at her, or resenting her, or disliking her until this very moment, as he’s staring right through her, like she doesn’t even exist.

“Would appreciate it if you left me alone for today.”

There’s a thud in her chest that makes her blood run cold and her insides freeze with sadness. And there’s this look on her face that makes Harry want to take it all back, and he almost does, but he doesn’t.

She’s lived twenty four years of misery, yet never has she felt so hurt, because never has she loved so hard.

“Oh, o — okay.” She mutters with a faltered voice, nodding her head through unshed tears.

There’s forty minutes left of lunch hour and the only friend she has doesn’t even want her here. She has nowhere else to go.

But she leaves anyway.

Y/n locks herself in her room that night.

It’s a bad habit she made out of herself when she was a teenager — where she’d lock herself up, shut herself out from the world, and keep herself quiet until she’s forced to leave her house again.

She keeps the lights off and sits in the corner in silence, keeping herself awake by repeating self-loathing mantras in her head — like a form of punishment only she is deserving of.

She cries, but that’s all she allows herself to do.

Harry doesn’t sleep that night.

He lays in the dark and just stares up at the ceiling, wondering how he let himself do what he’s done.

Y/n means everything to him, whether she knows it or not, she’s the only thing he has. There’s nothing left in this world for him to hold onto, except for her, and he still managed to let her go.

Tomorrow, he wants to tell her he loves her, because he does. But that’s just another form of selfishness he can’t put onto her again.

He won’t allow himself to, though that’s all he wants to do.

Y/n doesn’t show up for lunch hour the next day.

And Harry’s never felt so alone.

Harry sees her three hours later organizing files in Jeremy’s office.

Suddenly, his hands are slicked with sweat and his fingers shake with nervousness. He feels as if the world has stopped turning because what he chooses to say determines whether or not he could ever have her the way he so desperately needs her.

He wipes his palms against his pants, gathering his breath and his thoughts before he slowly creeps himself up behind her — terrified that if he makes one wrong move, she’ll walk away from him again.

He really wouldn’t be able to survive it if she did.

“Y/n.” Harry greets her hesitantly, knowing in the pit of his stomach that what he’s done was so much worse than he thought because she doesn’t even acknowledge him — doesn’t even look at him — when that’s all she ever used to do. “Can I have a word with you?”

Still, she doesn’t look up at him. She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t even want him looking at her and she would tell him that if she were still talking to him, but she isn’t. She’s just going to keep biting her tongue until it falls off and she has no choice but to swallow it down whole.

Harry’s heart breaks when all he’s met with is her silence.

This isn’t her, and this isn’t what he wants.

His hand reaches down to her wrist, holding onto it so lightly, Y/n almost doesn’t feel it. Her movements halt.

He’s never touched her before.

“Please.”

Her eyes follow the path to where they’re connected, watching as Harry’s thumb traces the smallest of circles against her skin. And as she stares down so pathetically, she feels Harry’s eyes casted exactly where hers are, too, wondering when he’s going to have to let go.

And though his touch is mending the broken bones within her, his words cut like knives, and she’s still bleeding out so helplessly.

She rips her wrist out of his grasp, her eyes now just as far away from him as before. It happened so fast, Harry wonders if he imagined the whole thing.

“Busy.”

He waits for her to say something else — waits for her to curse him out, to yell and scream and rant to him about how much she hates every last bit of him because anything is better than this. But again, he’s left with nothing.

His world falls apart.

“One word? That’s all you give me?”

Her eyes flood with tears.

“That’s all you asked for.”

He slams the side of his fist against the shelf in defeat, so incredibly angry with himself that he can hardly stand on his own two feet without wanting to beat himself down. She’s crying and avoiding him like he’s the last person she ever wants to see, and the worst part is that he can’t even blame her for it.

He has half the mind to walk away and never look back because she doesn’t deserve this; wants to spare her the heartache and let her find somebody that is so much better than he is — somebody who can look at her like they want her to be there, somebody who can smile at her, somebody who can laugh with her.

He can’t give her any of that because that’s not the kind of guy he is, but he doesn’t have that kind of heart. He can’t let her go because deep down he knows she loves him, too, and what would it make him if he were to destroy something so beautiful before it’s even started?

“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. All I’m asking is that you listen to me, please. Y/n, you know I didn’t mean it.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I like you so much.”

Y/n looks back at him now, her eyes still as wet and distant as before, and it tears him apart.

She looks into his eyes because all of her answers are there — they always are — and she can tell this has taken a toll on him the same way it has her. Even with his voice being so stagnant, and his face being so cold, he’s falling apart.

She wishes that was enough.

She looks away from him again.

And Harry’s at a loss. He doesn’t know what else to do to convince her how much he means it — how much he really is sorry and how badly he wants her. He’s so bad with words and so bad with expressing himself that he doesn’t know what he can and can’t do to get her to forgive him.

So, he does the only thing that feels right.

He grabs a hold of her arm and spins her around until her chest is against his, and before she has the chance to say anything to him, and before he can talk himself out of it, he kisses her.

His hands are intertwined with hers as he gives her everything he has. He’s absolutely relentless but it’s nothing short of passionate and desperate, longing for her even when she’s right up against him.

It’s better than either of them could have ever expected it to be.

He’s the first to pull away, and Y/n is let completely and utterly lovestruck.

“You can take it back!”

Harry looks up from his notebook with furrowed eyebrows and curious eyes, watching as Y/n slams the door shut behind her before standing at the head of the table with her arms fisted at her sides, nervously biting on her bottom lip and tapping her foot with anticipation — all the while keeping her composure as firm and collected as possible.

“Pardon?”

“The kiss.”

She waits for him to say something about it — anything about it — maybe even scoff or gag a little at the reminder. But alas, he gives her nothing but empty stares and emotionless lips.

“You can take it back, if you want to. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

And of course, she’s lying.

It would really break her heart in two if Harry felt that what happened yesterday was a mistake — that the feelings only fit in that one particular scene, that he was just caught up in the moment and didn’t know how else to apologize.

She had been waiting a lifetime for that sort of magic to be casted onto her — the kind of magic that has her feeling like she’s been granted everything she has ever wanted and more than she could ever ask for. And it feels so surreal that he kissed her that her head keeps swooning with hopes and dreams of everything that could possibly lay between them.

But if he isn’t laying in bed, desperately wishing for the same things she is, she needs to know before it’s too late.

“Oh.” Harry purses his lips, looking back down at his notebook as if she hadn’t said anything at all. “No, thank you.”

Y/n’s mouth drops ever so slightly before she shuts it closed again, flaring her nose as she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She had been preparing everything she was going to say for every possible scenario, yet here she is, racking her brain trying to come up with how to respond to such an ambiguous yet lucid answer.

And now he won’t even look at her, his undivided attention set upon the pen and paper below him as he writes the ideas for his next project, like it was the most casual and most nonchalant conversation he had ever been in.

“Was that all, love?”

Y/n blinks at him and tilts her head to the side, dazed in her confusion and lost at his choice of words.

Love. He called me love. He’s never called me that before.

But when his eyes sneak back up to hers, she shakes her head as if to pull herself together. She didn’t sacrifice last night’s sleep just to get lost in those very eyes — she needs to know where he stands with her before she takes another leap of faith, though all she wants to do is jump right into the same arms that were holding her so closely yesterday.

“I’m giving you a chance to opt out.”

Harry feels his chest fall to the pit of his stomach.

He straightens himself up upon the chair, his shoulders tensing and his fingers stiffening around his pen, feeling uneasy because does she want him to opt out? Does she want him to take back the kiss that’s been lingering on his lips for far too long now?

And he just looks at her, desperate for her to tell him how badly she wants him to do it again — tell him how badly her lips are aching without the feel of his and how badly she wants him to kiss at them until they’re numb and no longer her own, because he’d do it. He’d do it in a heartbeat if she asked with those pretty eyes of hers, with that stutter and that stumble over her words that never fail to make his heart give out.

And if that just becomes another long-lost dream in his never-ending curse of a life, it will do him in deeper than any of the trenches that have been dug out from within him — deeper than any cut anybody’s ever made on him because right now, in this moment in his life, she’s all he has.

“This is the one and only time I will let you break this off without me babbling about how perfect we could be together and how serious I am about you. Because it’s not going to stop — this rambling thing that I do — and I just want you to know that that’s what makes me who I am and it’s not going to stop for you or for anybody else. And so if it annoys you, if it bothers you and embarrasses you, I’m giving you the chance to leave before either of us get hurt and we can pretend nothing’s ever happened between us.”

She thinks we’d be perfect together.

That’s all his brain can process despite everything else that came with it — all that’s stuck in his brain and tightening at his chest.

He thinks they would be, too, when he really thinks about it. She gets lost in stories he lives so vicariously through, and he gets lost in feelings she lives so curiously in — submerging herself between the lines, reading what lies so dangerously beneath him. And nothing sounds better to him than spending every second of his day relishing in that feeling of intimacy they had both been deprived of for so long.

So how dare he? How dare he make her feel so insecure, so unworthy and so undeserving, to be standing here defending everything that makes her who she is when he’s so captivated by it all? And why is it so fucking hard for him to just tell her?

He feels the corners of his lips dip slightly to his chin, but that’s all he can manage to do. He hopes she can see it, and he hopes that it’s enough.

“I’d rather not.”

She frowns herself, looking down to her feet, feeling slightly ashamed for putting him on the spot like this. But what else was she to do? She couldn’t risk getting her heart beaten and bruised because of her stupid mouth all over again.

“But I’ve annoyed you before.” Y/n mutters between a pout, her foot kicking softly at the ground, wishing she didn’t let his words cut her as deeply as they did. “And like I said, it’s not going to stop. I’m still going to want to be around you and talk to you and keep you company and I don’t know what I would do if later down the line you decide you’ve heard enough of me and can’t handle the way I deal with my feelings anymore.”

But he wants all of that, too, more than he’s wanted anything else in his entire life. He wants her next to him during lunch hour talking about her days and her nights, wants her midnight pillow talks, wants her to be the only company in his cold and vacant home.

He just wants her to see it, wants her to feel it, just as much as he does.

“That was different.” He tries to sound more convincing for her sake, but he fails so miserably it hurts.

Talking to you is like talking to a wall — that’s all he can hear beneath his words and it makes him want to give up on the conversation because he’s afraid it’ll only bring her down more, but he can’t leave her like this. Besides, it’s Y/n. And for reasons so unknown, she understands him.

“I wasn’t aware of your importance.”

“My importance?” She scrunches her nose, squinting her eyes. “My importance to what?”

“To me.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in disbelief and she sucks in a breath so deep, it settles in her chest and she swears her heart is on the verge of flatlining.

“To you, right. To you. Because I’m — because I’m important to you...” she mumbles mainly to herself, so quietly and so breathlessly before it dies down on her tongue — the sight of Harry taking off his glasses and throwing them onto the table making her knees buckle and head spin with emotions she’s never felt before.

He’s got this glimmer in his eye and a faint smile painted on his lips and she really can’t breathe, now, as he makes his way towards her.

This is the first time she has ever seen him smile, and though it is as soft and small as any other she’s ever seen — so soft and small, she would have missed it if it were on anybody else — she’s the reason it’s there, and it’s a sight she wouldn’t dare take her eyes off of.

He stands before her now, his fingers reaching up to cup the blush of her cheeks, eyes following the shapes he traces with his thumb against her skin. And though his smile has faded to nothing and he looks as serious as ever before, he doesn’t look away from her for even a second.

And that’s enough.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

She flutters her eyes closed upon his words, knowing this moment is going to end all too soon, and she doesn’t have the heart to say goodbye to it yet.

She wants to remember this feeling for when she has to.

“No, no. That was all.”

He ducks his head and nudges his nose gently against hers before pulling away to pull her back into reality, just for a moment — just long enough for him to know that she isn’t holding herself back from him.

“And I’ve put your worries to rest?”

Oh, how her worries have subsided to nothing but a stomach full of butterflies and a chest of pulled heartstrings.

Nobody has ever made her so sure of anything, the way Harry makes her so sure of him.

“Yeah, I — you make me feel really good, Harry. Can’t explain it. Can’t even put it into words, really. Just, really, really good.”

He makes her feel loved.

And she wants to tell him that, she does, but that word — loved — it’s the same word he called her not just five minutes ago, but it’s so much more than that. Maybe he doesn’t love her, she surely doesn’t expect that from him just yet, but how is she ever going to explain that her feeling of feeling loved is what other people — normal people, she supposes — would consider feeling liked?

And as Y/n’s practically melting between his palms, Harry is trying so hard to understand just how he’s ended up here, being this close to her, when he always believed he’d go his whole life not being this close to anybody.

His eyes bore into hers just to reassure himself that it’s okay — that she’s okay and that they’re okay and that now, it’s okay for him to do the one thing he’s been dreaming about doing since yesterday. And when she smiles at him, a real and genuine smile, he nods.

And he leans in for their second kiss, his thumbs rubbing along her cheeks, humming into her mouth because his own has been watering for a chance to do this again. And it’s perfect. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way about anything.

And Y/n is on cloud nine. She could really kiss him all day every day and still feel like she hasn’t missed a thing. This — this feeling, this moment, this person — is everything she’s ever wanted and everything she will always need. It’s irreplaceably and undeniably hers, and she’ll do anything to keep it for as long as she lives.

Her hands are on his neck, pulling him further into her because she can’t get enough of him and nothing else matters besides them meeting in the break room, kissing behind closed doors like teenagers who haven’t learned how to keep their hands to themselves.

The only thing that breaks them from their moment is the sound of the copy room door being slammed in the hallway, their breaths heavy and lips red and wet from each other’s.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Harry suggests as his fingers tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Wherever you want.”

And Y/n’s unsure as to whether it’s the sleepless night sneaking up on her or if it’s the aftermath of Harry kissing her senseless, but she can’t think of a single thing she could possibly want for dinner when she just wants to be with him. He could take her to the most run-down restaurant in this city and she would still feel as though she were on the highest of hilltops, overlooking the prettiest view, all because of him.

“I don’t — I don’t care, really. It wouldn’t even really matter, anyways, just — just as long as you’re with me. Don’t even have to have dinner, if you don’t want to. Could do anything you’d like.”

She’s blushing and looking down at her feet, and Harry hates when she hides herself like this, hates that she puts herself under to put him first when she deserves to be the first and the only — he has a sick and twisted feeling she’s never been any of those things to anybody.

“Y/n.” His tone is slow and stern as his head ducks down so her can eyes can meet his. “Wherever you want.”

And how could she say no to those eyes — though always so dark, so void, are also so gentle and so kind, so deep and so open? The light in them changes just ever so slightly whenever he looks at her, and she wouldn’t dream of ever taking that away from him.

“I want what you have for lunch on Tuesdays.”

His thumb brushes against the edge of her jawline.

“It’s homemade. I can pick you up around seven, eat dinner at mine.”

Her fingers wrap around his wrist absentmindedly, holding his hand so that it stays pressed against the back of her head.

“No, Harry, that’s not — that’s too much work for you. Let me at least drive and meet you at your flat, yeah? I can’t let you do that.”

She really is just the cutest, sweetest, most considerate person he’s ever met, and the most beautiful he’s ever laid eyes on. And if she wasn’t all of those things, he would let her drive and meet him at his flat for dinner, but she is, and what kind of date would it be if Harry didn’t come knocking on her front door, holding out his hand, and leading the night away?

She deserves to have a night that’s just for her. And surely, Harry wants this date just as much as she does, but it’s not about him, because as long as she’s beside him, he doesn’t have a care in the world what he has to do to get her there.

“Y/n.” His voice is as low and stern as before. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

Y/n looks at him for a moment, studying him, wondering how she’s ended up here — the only place she has ever wanted to be. She lets out a breathy chuckle, her cheeks flushed, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“I’ll see you at seven, then.”

His eyes light up.

And they kiss.

It’s 6:35 when Harry actually comes to pick Y/n up, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see her so badly, and he couldn’t just sit on his sofa trying to justify waiting to be with her again. He would have been more than willing to watch her finish getting ready, or just stand at the other side of her door, trying to convince her to let him in because she’s going to look beautiful no matter what.

He doesn’t even care if he comes off as desperate, because he is.

And Y/n is, too, because of course she was ready by 6:35. Since the second she got home, she was putting herself together as best she could, though refusing to try as hard as she normally would with anybody else because for whatever reason, Harry likes her for her — likes her in her work clothes with her hair up, without makeup on, first thing in the morning — and she wouldn’t ever dream of jeopardizing that.

And Y/n is left speechless as she opens her front door, because not only does Harry look as handsome and fit as ever, but he’s also holding the prettiest bouquet of flowers she’s ever seen.

“Harry, I — wow.”

He holds them out to her, failing to mention anything about them, just handing them to her like it’s something so normal and so casual, when in reality, the gesture is anything but.

Out of all the years she’s lived, nobody’s ever given her a reason to believe she’s been thought about once out of sight. Even when she was with Cooper — her one and only boyfriend — he’d never bought her flower arrangements or spontaneous gifts whenever they were apart, even on the days he should have, like she only existed when it was convenient for him.

This is just her first date with Harry and she’s never felt more alive. She lives in his mind even when she’s blocks away — nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be heard.

She takes the bouquet from his hands, looking down at what must have been two dozen flowers, wrapped all together by a rubber band and light purple plastic wrap.

“Lilies.” She marvels at him, eyes wide with an open-mouthed smile, like she couldn’t believe the sight of them. “These are my absolute favorites.”

He nods, his hands locked behind his back, lips pursed and body rocking from heel to toe. “I know.”

She tilts her head at him.

“You told me a couple months ago during lunch hour.”

And again, she’s left speechless.

She can’t even remember telling him about her love for lilies, yet here he is, recalling all these small details about herself she’s said in passing. Even in the moments he wasn’t the most fond of her, even in the moments he could hardly stand her company, he was paying attention to her. He was listening to her, so much so that her words have stuck with him despite all the days that have passed.

And it’s no wonder she’s fallen so quickly under his spell — it was made just for her. Nobody else could ever see what he sees in her, and nobody else could ever see what she sees in him, and that’s exactly how they’ve ended up here — both standing on her doorstep, refusing to take their eyes off each other, anxious to spend the rest of their night together, hoping it’s forever.

“I love them, Harry, thank you.” She blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m just going to put these in a vase real quick. You can come in, if you’d like. Or you can stay out here, it doesn't matter.”

He follows her into the flat, which looks and smells exactly how he imagined it would. It feels just as warm as she does and smells like a mix of lavender and honey, just as intoxicating as her.

And though there are so many things he wants to see — the books she collects beside her living room couch, the movies scattered alongside her DVD player, and the pictures hung up on her walls — all he can focus on is the woman that’s stolen his heart so effortlessly.

He leans himself against the wall of her kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, watching as she pours the water and powder into the vase, stirring it together gently between her hands. And as she unwraps and unties the flowers, Harry wishes they could live for as long as they do.

This is the view he wants forever — Y/n putting flowers he’s gotten her in clear vases, surrounded by her favorite things, sharing comfortable silences she’d feel so nervous in if it were with anybody else.

She is his, he decides, and he is helplessly hers.

“Didn’t tell you when I first saw you but, you look stunning.”

She looks over at him, her eyes gleaming and lips tugged upward at his words.

“Yeah?”

His lips tug upward, too, in the same way they did earlier today in the break room, and it amazes her how something so small could mean so much to her.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, his eyes soaking her all in, still convinced she’s a dream he hasn’t woken up from. “You always do.”

She blushes, reaching forward to place the vase onto the windowsill above her sink. She can feel his eyes on her still, refusing to break away from her, and it makes her feel like the only woman in the world. And maybe she is — at the very least, the only woman in Harry’s.

She walks over to where he stands so irresistibly — so tall and so handsome, with a chest she so desperately wants to make a home out of and kiss at until she has nothing left but the burning of his skin on her own.

And as she stands before him, neither of them have anything to say because in times like these, their breaths are taken away and all they can process is how close they are to each other.

Her hands graze over his chest ever so slightly, hesitant to touch him the way she’s been shamefully aching to, afraid to push him away. But she can hear his breath hitch in his throat and can see his pecs tighten beneath her fingertips, and she lets out an uneven breath. He likes it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” She whispers, her breath fanning his neck and she swears she can see his eyes fighting to stay open.

Her hands graze up to the dip of his collarbones, her thumbs running along the sides of his throat. And to give her more access, Harry dips his head back, overstimulated by the feeling of it all.

“To touch me?”

His voice is strained and croaked, borderline delirious. And though his eyes are fluttering closed as her fingers now run along the shape of his shoulders and up the sides of his neck, dancing along his jawline, he can see her bite down on her bottom lip and it makes his heart hurt, in the best way possible.

Her eyes gleam as her fingers twist around the chain on his neck.

“It’s been all I could think about since I met you.”

His head falls back against the wall, the smallest of whimpers falling from his practically drooling mouth.

God, everything about her drives him wild. He has so completely lost himself in her, he can’t even remember his own name. He can’t even remember who he was just twenty seconds ago, much less who he was before he met her, and it’s something so new he can’t grasp the reality of it.

Her hands all over him is a feeling he can’t put into words, and one he certainly can’t hide.

He is falling.

And falling.

It doesn’t take them too long to figure out how similar they are despite their differences, certainly not after downing half a bottle of wine mixed with being so incredibly drunk on each other.

Y/n confided in him about her past — about how her nervous habits have never made her feel like she never had a true sense of belonging because everywhere she went, she was constantly kicked out. She’s had such unfathomable lows that she’d lock herself in her room for weeks on end, forcing herself quiet, because even she was sick of hearing herself.

And as Harry listened to her speak about all the cruel, heartless things that have been said to her, he couldn’t help but feel understood despite the feeling of guilt throbbing in his gut, for he had done what everybody else did not just one day ago.

Harry confided in her, too, about how he had always been left out because he always managed to bring down everybody else’s mood. He told her things he hadn’t told anybody else because he had nobody else to tell them to — told her about all the drugs he’s taken and all the other toxic habits he’d pursued in a poor, desperate attempt to become emotional.

Then, they talked about their parents — a conversation so barren and so untouched, it was almost impossible to talk about.

Y/n grew up with parents who didn’t understand her, because who could? Even when she was little, barely forming an identity and her only concept of friendship being imaginary ones, her parents would tell her that she was embarrassing herself. She’ll always remember the look on her mother’s face at a New Years Eve party when she said, “I just can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

Harry grew up with absent parents — absent in a sense that they were around, just never really there. His parents hardly acknowledged him, hardly ever spoke to him, and when they did it felt so forced, like an obligation they couldn’t find their way out of. He’ll never forget the way they looked at him, like he wasn’t even there, like they didn’t even want him to be.

It makes them question just how strongly the universe works in their favor.

Because what seems to be the first time in her life, Y/n has found something only made for her, a place where nobody else belongs, and it wouldn’t have brought her here if she had kept herself locked away, rotting in her self pity, refusing to let anybody in for all the rest of her years.

And for what seems to be the first time in his life, Harry feels he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, with the person he’s supposed to be with, and it wouldn’t have brought him here if all the wine, all the blunts, and all the pills did what he so desperately wanted out of them all those years ago.

They had spent their whole lives trying to make something out of themselves when they were always enough, because they were enough for each other, and each other was what they were made for.

“So you’re saying that all this time, we’ve been the exact same person?” Y/n chuckles, because though their conversation was so serious, the mood was still as lighthearted as everything else between them.

“Peculiar habits, a history of toxic behavior, no friends, and shitty parents? Yeah, sounds like it.”

Y/n laughs, shaking her head.

“Here’s to nobody liking us.” Y/n raises her glass.

“Here’s to nobody liking us.” Harry repeats, raising his own. “Except for each other.”

And they clink.

Maybe they shouldn’t have finished that entire bottle of wine to themselves, but they did.

What started off in the kitchen made its way to the living room, both sat beside each other on Harry’s sofa with their heads hung back, Y/n cracking jokes and humming along to the songs on her playlist, and Harry admiring her from the distance.

They both have their last glasses of wine nearly gone, holding them upon their thighs, taking their final sips throughout the hour and with every one they take, they feel closer somehow.

Y/n’s giggling about how Harry won’t stop looking at her, and though she can’t see it between her squinting eyes and their gaze set upon the ceiling wall, he smiles.

He can’t help it — looking at her like it’s the last time he ever will though it’s only the beginning, but he doesn’t ever want to forget the way he feels whenever he does. This is the only good feeling he’s ever had, and even when she’s not in view, he wants to hold onto it ‘til his dying day.

“You’re my favorite person.” Is all he says, his lips fallen. “My only person.”

Y/n finally turns her head over to him, now, so that her eyes are locked on his. And she wishes he can understand the feeling in her heart and the way it’s beating so eroticly, but she doesn’t, because it’s so overwhelming and too much of a good thing for her to make sense of.

Never in her life has she felt so good, yet here she is, feeling even better than that, all because of one person she met nearly two years ago.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He nods, because he understands, and they both look away from each other again.

They’re getting lost in the music and lost in the feeling of the air that surrounds them — so full of unexplainable things that leave them wanting more than they did before, breathing in nothing but longing and desire.

And it isn’t until one of Y/n’s favorite songs comes on that the comfortable silence between them is all but broken, in the most beautiful way possible.

“Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park. I used to think I would meet somebody there.”

Harry stiffens beside her, his fingers instinctively curling tighter around his glass of wine — speechless and breathless as the sound of her voice intoxicates his already drunken state of mind, the room now spinning but only because of her.

“Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money.”

This is heaven, he feels. It has to be because things this beautiful don’t exist in worlds so cruel, in worlds so evil.

Things this beautiful don’t belong here.

Y/n doesn’t belong here. She’s too perfect for her own good — too perfect for a world that refuses to believe in such things, but he does. He does because how can he deny the woman that’s sitting right before him? How can he deny the sound of her voice in a dim lit room, soaked in red wine, existing only to be heard by him?

“Time — curious time — gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn’t see? And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string — tying you to me?”

Y/n’s raising her glass to her lips as the lyrics pause but god, if Harry has to watch her lips touch anything but his, it’s going to be the end of him. And right as her mouth puckers for a taste, Harry reaches his hand out to grab the bowl of the glass, lifting it from her fingers before setting it down upon the coffee table beside them.

She tilts her head at him with furrowed brows and squinted eyes, watching as Harry practically crawls over to her until his thighs are pressed to her knees and his hands are at either side of her waist.

“You’re so pretty.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him but it hides behind her flushed cheeks and growing smile.

“Harry —”

“Sh.” He shushes her, laying his forehead against the top of her chest, slithering his arms to her lower back, and Y/n giggles. “Keep going.”

So, she does — keeps singing the very words she had been so hopelessly trying to put a face to, to the very man that holds her to them.

And she’s falling.

She feels it now more than ever as he practically buries himself into her, rocking her gently back and forth like she’s some sort of delicacy he wouldn’t dare to break. Everything about it is so intimate, so real, so raw — no boundaries, all walls crumbled down so vulnerably, feeling each other so deeply.

She wonders if he feels it, too.

And oh, does he feel it — her words, his touch, the room fading to nothingness. It is just them — no fears, no doubts, no resentment — together in this moment, becoming one, letting everything else simply slip through their fingertips.

Harry rests his lips upon her collar bone, settling them against her sweltering skin. He can feel her heart beating against his mouth, and it feels right.

“Spend the night with me.”

Y/n stiffens.

She wants to spend the night, she does, more than anything else she could ever want. It’s been her long-lived dream to be cuddled to his chest, feeling him breathe against her, burning in his touch until slumber clouded her senses; waking up beside him in the early morning and hearing that voice so rasped and far gone.

But all of her dreams are so innocent, so pure, and so holy by him, and what if that’s not where his head is? Between all the drinks, all the touching, and all the stolen stares, it could be somewhere so far out of her reach, somewhere so far away from her own, and it’ll absolutely ruin her if that’s all he wants out of her.

Harry must have felt her uneasiness because he’s quick to lift his head from her chest.

“No, no. Not like that, Y/n. I promise. Never even —”

Had sex.

He was so close to saying it to reassure her, but he couldn’t — he couldn’t because if he did, she’d have every reason to believe he was thinking of such things when it was the farthest thought from his mind. Really, he wants her to spend the night because once she leaves, she’s all he’s going to think about and all he’s going to want beside him. He probably would have ended up on her doorstep at two in the morning, dazed and confused, all because he never wants to be away from her.

She is so close, and he wants her so bad.

“Had a girlfriend.”

He settles for something less straightforward but just as truthful and vulnerable. Besides, he figured it’s something she should know because if he ever fucks something up, or fails to do right by her, even if it’s unintentional, maybe she’d understand why.

He’s absolutely terrified that he’s going to be the first one to start a fight and not know how to fix it, or be the first one to make the other cry and not know why. He’s done it before, with Celeste. And though what he has with Y/n is so different and so much more real than what he ever had with her, he still managed to break her heart enough for her to leave him. He wouldn’t blame Y/n if she ever decides to, too.

Y/n looks down at him with eyes full of sorrow. He’s not asking for pity, she knows that, but how he’s gone his whole life without ever being loved, she’ll never understand.

It’s all he deserves.

And she can’t help but feel like she’s the least deserving person to be the first because she knows, down to the very pit of her soul, that Harry isn’t like the others — that Harry wouldn’t kiss her, ask her out on a date, and snuggle himself into her the way he is right now just to get a proper shag — yet she convinced herself that maybe, somewhere so deeply within him, he is that kind of person, and that is so far from fair.

She runs her fingers through his hair.

“I’ll only spend the night under one condition.”

He blinks at her.

“Anything.”

She leans forward to rub her nose against his, a soft smirk set on her lips as she kisses him gently.

She giggles before pulling away, sliding out from underneath him and though the small pout on Harry’s face would send her right back to him, she chooses to stand beside him with an open-palmed hand sticking out before her, her eyes glistening, her lips bitten.

“Dance with me.”

And god, how could he ever say no to that face?

He lets out a breathy chuckle as he hitches his glasses up — the closest thing to a laugh Yn has ever heard out of him, and it makes her want to cry. And he shakes his head softly before grabbing onto her hand, letting her lift him from the sofa.

“You drive me wild.”

She hums, lifting his hand up to her lips.

She guides him behind the coffee table, grasping both of his hands in hers, and though she fully intends on pulling him to her and leading the rest of the way, he beats her to it.

He’s got her pressed up against him, one hand hooked to her lower back and the other holding hers between their shoulders, swaying them side to side as they dance together in slow circles.

They’re at peace. Together, they can do the most cliche of things — make a dance floor out of a living room, make a night out of a date — and not feel anything but pure, genuine happiness out of it.

They don’t need anything or anyone outside of each other, and that’s what makes it all the better.

“Hm…” Y/n hums, resting the side of her cheek against his chest. She feels at home like this. “Quite the dancer, you are.”

His thumb rubs at her wrist, and he shakes his head.

“Only for you.”

Y/n doesn’t go home the following night.

Or the night after that.

This must be the third time Y/n’s set off the smoke alarm.

And in any other circumstance, she probably would have given up and called Harry’s favorite take out to spare him from a night of potential food poisoning, but Harry’s spent the past two weeks telling her how much he wished Thanksgiving was a British holiday, and now that it’s late November and Harry has spent the past three months of their relationship doing all the cooking, she can’t quit him now.

Even as she’s flinging around the oven mitts trying to waft the smoke from the open oven out of her face, she still can’t quit.

The things she does for love, she fucking hates it.

“Pretty, you’re going to burn our flat down.” Harry chuckles from behind her, his hand landing on the small of her back as he rubs gently at it. “Let me take it from here, love. I’ve got it.”

Y/n’s quick to close the oven door back shut and press her back to it, practically flinging herself away from Harry’s touch as she does so. She’s panting and sweating and her hair is an absolute wreck, yet she refuses Harry’s helping hand.

This is his day, and she is his girl, and she just has to do this.

“No, no, mister! Don’t you even think about it! I’ve got it all under control.”

Her lips are pursed for the simple reason that she knows it’s an absolute monstrosity — she’s burnt two rounds of yams, somehow turned mashed potatoes into soup, and overcooked the green bean casserole to a cripst — but at least it’s all been made with love.

And she assumes Harry doesn’t believe her, either, because he’s trying his absolute hardest to not laugh at her, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Pretty,” Harry laughs, facepalming himself before his hand cups around his mouth to try to stifle the sounds. “You — you closed the oven door again and it’s —”

“Fuck!”

She turns herself around before ripping the oven back open, coughing and groaning as a cloud of smoke hits her face for the millionth time tonight before reaching in to grab yet another round of burnt yams.

She slams it onto the stove, ripping her oven mitts off and throwing them onto the counter beside her.

Harry feels bad, he does, because she’s been slaving away in their kitchen for the past five hours and she’s the farthest from satisfied she could possibly be, but he can’t deny that he loves seeing her like this — so passionate, all cute and grumpy just to make him happy.

Oh, how he loves her so, even when she burns his beloved yams.

He kisses the back of her head.

“Looks incredible, baby. Don’t need anything else than what you’ve got.” His lips move to her cheek. “Let me set the table while you put everything in dishes, yeah? Starving.”

He lights two pumpkin spice candles upon the table, pouring two glasses of their favorite wine, and setting down two plates for each of them because they haven’t eaten all day in preparation for their dinner, and they’re both at their wits end.

Y/n sets dinner up buffet style along the kitchen island — the roasted young turkey set in the middle surrounded by bowls of corn, mashed potatoes, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, and dinner rolls.

Though she’s far from being a good cook, she does feel slightly better when she sees it all set up in autumn-colored dish sets. It could have been a lot worse, it really could have been a lot worse.

And it’s the look on Harry’s face that makes the past five hours of hell so incredibly worth it.

His fists are on the kitchen table, his body leaning forward as his eyes marvel at the sight in front of him. Autumn has always been his favorite season, and he’s always been so fond of the concept of Thanksgiving — spending time with his loved ones, reminiscing all his favorite memories throughout the year, delving into his favorite foods.

He’d contemplated making a Thanksgiving of his own for the past couple years, but whenever it came down to it, he realized he didn’t have much to be thankful for, and he didn’t have any memories to look back on. So, he never did.

But now, he has so much to be thankful for — so many unforgettable memories, a lifetime of happiness, and a loved one to finally celebrate with — all of which are standing right before him.

Nobody else in the world would ever do the things she does for him. She is one and a million, his little miracle, and the absolute light of his life.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

She shrugs, a teasing grin playing on her lips.

“Once or twice.”

She loads their plates up with everything she made — giving Harry extra stuffing, of course — before she makes her way back to the kitchen table, sitting across from the very man she’s thankful for this year.

She didn’t realize how good it would feel — to spend a holiday with Harry, even though it’s illegitimate — but it’s warm and homely and everything else in between. It’s no wonder she falls more in love with him everyday, and no wonder she wants to spend all of her days exactly where they are now, until they’re old and grumpy and can hardly stand the sight of each other anymore.

Y/n lifts up her wine glass.

“This year, I’m thankful for being yours and only yours. I’m nothing without you.”

Harry lifts up his wine glass.

“This year, I’m thankful for you and your love. You’re everything to me.”

They clink, they eat, they kiss, and they do it all over again.

“You know, I don’t think guys are meant to do this kind of stuff.”

Y/n’s sitting across from Harry on their queen-sized bed, their legs crossed Indian style as Harry’s hand is spread out before her, Y/n grasping onto his fingers with her own as she paints a thin layer of black nailpolish onto his nails.

It didn’t take Y/n much convincing to get Harry in this position. She knows full well that all she has to do is pout and cross her arms for him to give her what she wants. And normally, she doesn’t use his weaknesses against him — she doesn’t think it’s right, and he’d never do it to her — but this is something so harmless that she gave herself a free pass.

Plus, she knows he’d look hot with his nails painted black.

“Shut up, H.” She giggles, shaking her head. “They’ll look really good, I promise. Besides, it could be our little secret.”

He can’t lie, it does feel nice to be pampered like this. Her hands are soft and it tickles when she goes finger-to-finger, and it’s a damn good excuse to touch her and look at her for minutes on end. She’s got her eyebrows pinched together as she moves his fingers around, trying to get into every edge and crevice, and he can see it in her eyes how much she’s truly enjoying herself right now.

His eyes take a peek at his nails and it’s not nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be. They make him feel… different, but in a way that can only be described as holding a certain power he never knew he had.

Guys normally don’t do this kind of stuff, but he is, and he looks damn good while doing it.

And as Y/n takes both of his hands out to her and starts to blow on them, his eyes flutter with amusement. Maybe, just maybe, he’d let her do this again.

She pokes one of her nails into his.

“They should be dry now.”

And though his nails are finished, Y/n still hasn’t let go of his hands, and her eyes haven’t left his fingers. Instead, she’s marveling over them — eyes gleaming, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, her digits twisting at his rings.

He smirks at her.

“Look good?”

She nods, lifting one of his hands up higher towards her neck.

“They look really good, H. So good, I —” She doesn’t even let herself finish before she brings his pointer and middle finger up and into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and proper sucking on them like she was born for it.

Harry’s breath gets locked in his throat, his entire demeanor changing as he broadens his shoulders and tenses his chest, his eyes darkening and hawking over every move of her mouth, every swipe of her tongue.

She’s moaning — whimpering and whining like she’s been left starving and he’s her first proper meal in weeks. And nothing’s even started yet.

He reaches his free hand over to her face, petting her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“That’s it, my pretty girl. Just like that.”

She pops them out of her mouth, her lips red and wet and eyes glossy with lust. And Harry watches as she grabs a hold of his wrist and guides his two, sloppy and dripping fingers down her neck and between her breasts, stretching down the collar of her shirt, leaning back for him to have the most perfect view.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, the hand that was once on her cheek reaching over to grope at her thigh. “Is this what I’m going to get every time you paint my nails black? You being such a good girl for me?”

She nods her head, gulping.

“Y — yeah.” She shudders as the hand on her thigh inches up with every passing second. “Told you they’d look so good.”

He chuckles darkly before he reaches his hand up to grab at the base of her throat. It’s her favorite, when he takes her breath away like this, because all she can feel is him.

And right now, he doesn’t want her to feel anything else.

He pushes her down until her back is fully pressed against the mattress, and he crawls until he’s above her on his hands and knees, his fingers still squeezing at her throat.

Such a pretty neck, such a pretty face. And it’s all his.

“Let’s see how good they look all over you, yeah?”

Harry hears something when he passes one of the vacant offices at work.

It’s a bloodcurdling sound, one he hasn’t ever heard before and one he wished he’d never heard at all, but he knows exactly what it is before he sees it.

He could never mistake the sound of his girl — it’s all he ever hears and he’s been around her long enough to know the sound of her very breath. She’s a part of him — he feels her in his bones when she’s close and knows exactly what she’s feeling at every moment in time.

But what he sees is worse than he could have ever imagined.

Y/n’s sobbing something so awful her face is nearly blue, lips trembling and eyes all but swollen shut, shaking and convulsing upon the chair below her.

And Harry doesn’t know what to do.

His brain is working at a million miles an hour and he can’t keep up — doesn’t know left from right, up from down — because all he can feel is the overwhelming sense of heartbreak and his world crumbling out from underneath him.

He practically runs to her — tripping over the legs of office chairs, ramming his hips into the corners of the table, on the verge of collapse with every step he takes. Yet nothing stops him from falling to his knees before her, letting his hands grab a hold of her soaken cheeks, having his thumbs wipe away her endless tears.

“Pretty —”

He can’t even get a word out without wanting to cry, but he’s never done it before. He wouldn’t know how to even if he wanted to, but it’s there — that lump in his throat, that tightening of his chest, that burning in his eyes, it’s all there.

“What happened, baby? Talk to me.”

And though she really didn’t want Harry to see her this way, she can’t help but clasp her shaking fingers around his wrists, holding him there because she doesn’t know what she would do if he were to leave her now.

What happened today — what happened to her — is just further proof that the only person she can trust and the only person she can truly be herself with is Harry. The world is so vengeful and so deceiving towards her, for reasons so unknown, but it’s brought her to the very man kneeling between her thighs, with eyes full of unshed tears, wanting her and loving her even when nobody else does. And if he were to walk away from her now, though she knows he wouldn’t dream of it, she’d lose every last bit of hope she has, and she wouldn’t be able to survive it.

She needs him so badly it hurts.

“Can’t —” She shakes her head as she sniffles back a sob. “Can’t tell you.”

She can’t because she doesn’t want him to see just how bad it can get for her — see how her differences are so obvious to everything and everyone around her. It never ends. It’s been like this for as long as she can remember and she’s so scared and so afraid that if Harry sees it, too, he’d do the very thing that happened to her twenty minutes ago.

But even through her waterfall eyes, she can see just how devastated Harry looks at her words.

“Pretty, you can tell me anything. You know that. Can’t —” He shakes his head, gulping, one of his hands rubbing at the back of her head. “Can’t see you like this and not know how to fix it.”

She pulls her hands away from her tight hold on him so that they can cover her face — too ashamed for the world to see how much it’s broken her down, too humiliated to face somebody so much better than her.

“It — it’s s — so emb — embarrassing!”

She’s hiding from him. Harry hates when she hides from him.

“No, please don’t — please don’t do that.” He practically begs as his hands reach back up to hers, pulling them away from her face and intertwining their fingers together. “It’s me, baby. It’s me. You don’t have to do that with me. Please, don’t do that with me.”

He’s got their hands held on top of her knees, the pads of his thumbs stroking her palms, his lips pressing to the top of her exposed thighs because it’s the only thing he can think of doing right now.

He’s never done this — never had anybody break and shatter before his very eyes, much less somebody he loves — and he is so bad with words and so bad with dealing with his own feelings he wouldn’t even know where to start dealing with hers, but he does know that he can be the most affectionate boyfriend there is towards her, and he hopes that’s a start.

But he doesn’t have a single clue just how good it feels for Y/n to be loved by him when she feels so hated. He is the only person that really, truly matters to her, so to feel him touch her and kiss her when she’s at her absolute lowest, is all she really needs.

Harry notices her breath starting to shallow and her sobs fading to distant cries every time he presses his lips to her skin, and despite how much of a mess he is, it warms his heart to know that they share a love that can overcome anything life decides to throw at them.

He reluctantly lifts his head up to look at her properly, now. His glasses are all fogged and wet but he refuses to take them off the way he normally would with her, because that would require him letting go of her hands, and for both of their sanity, that’s not something he can do right now.

He’s crying.

And though his face is as stone cold and tight as always, his eyes, Y/n notices, are unlike anything she’s ever seen. They’re so undeniably broken, and her heart crumbles into a million pieces just at the sight of it.

She feels it’s all because of her.

“The new recruit, Mason, he —”

She sucks in a breath, trying to find the right words that could possibly explain the amount of damage that he caused her without sounding so weak and pathetic. It wouldn’t have hurt her as badly if it wasn’t something that’s happened to her more and more over the years, beating her down further and further each time, digging deeper and deeper into her already hollowed out chest.

And all Harry can think about is how one name, one person, has made this much of a mess out of her — one that she has to see every single day, that she has to speak to in order to get her work done, that she has to face time and time again.

He’s never hated so much in his life.

“What did he do to you?” He whispers it, afraid that one wrong tone of voice or one wrong word can tear her apart all over again. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

She shakes her head, her eyes casted down at their intertwined hands.

“Laughed at me.”

Her voice is so small and so sad, it’s the most heartbreaking sound Harry has ever heard. And he feels like he failed her.

He knows full well that somebody laughing at her and degrading her, hurts her more than any physical pain she could possibly feel. Even if Mason had touched her, it wouldn’t have made her like this — so afraid, so self-conscious, and so successfully ruined.

“In front of the whole team, just — just kept poking fun at me. Mocking me. Speaking about me as if I wasn’t there. Making fun of my nervous stutter and — and talking over me like, ‘oh, and she keeps going.’ and ‘wow, it just never ends, does it?’ and making everyone laugh at me.”

He should have been there. All he can think about is how he should have been by her side the way any boyfriend should — should have been there to protect her, to keep his eyes on anybody who dared to even look at her the wrong way, to never let her out of his sight.

They’re on the same team and he just should have fucking been there.

“Said he’d take bets with people to see how long it would take me to shut up and I wanted to tell him so badly that the more he says those things the more I ramble because it makes me nervous and I don’t know what else to do but apart of me — apart of me felt like he already knew that and kept going so that I could keep going so that he can keep making a fool out of me.”

Her bottom lip quivers again, and so does his, and Harry has had enough.

He can’t keep seeing her like this because who knows what his love for her could make him do. He’s already broken so many boundaries just from taking one look at her, he can’t even imagine what comes next, or what would come next, if he has to see it again.

With every last bit of courage he has, Harry lets go of her hands and brings his wrist up behind his glasses, wiping away the remnants of his tears, before bringing his hands back down to her knees.

“I’m going to tell Jeremy that you’re not feeling well and that you needed to go home, okay?”

She nods with a pout on her face because god, how badly does she want to crawl into their bed and hibernate beneath the covers until the weekend’s over.

“I’ll help you finish up whatever you need me to, and I’ll meet you back at our flat once I’m done.” He hooks his pointer finger under her chin, kissing away the pout his heart just can’t handle the sight of. “I love you so much. You’re everything to me.”

He didn’t have to tell her, because she already knew.

And it’s so hard for him to leave her like this, but he has to. He has to because she can’t stay here and face the same team that just spit on her name and pretend everything is okay, when everything is so far from it.

He kisses her one last time.

“Go home. I’ll be there soon.”

Harry wasn’t looking for Mason.

He really wasn’t, though every fiber in his body instinctively wanted to hunt him down and brutalize him until he was nothing but a pile of broken bones and battered flesh. His fingers ached for it, but he was more focused on getting home to Y/n so that she didn’t have to be alone — so that he can hold her, and kiss her, and remind her that the only reason the world keeps trying to knock her down is because she’s too perfect to be existing in it.

But as he stands in the copy room to help finish one of Y/n’s major projects, that’s exactly who he sees.

He walks in, whistling the same tune he does every other day, one hand holding a pile of papers and the other slinging the office keys by their lanyard. And as he occupies the empty copy machine next to Harry’s, he lifts his chin up as if to greet him on this truly horrible, unforgiving day.

Harry tenses on sight, his shoulders straightening up and his fingers tightening around the folder that now holds everything he needed to make his way out of here.

But how could he, when Mason is right here?

He takes one last glance at Mason and one last breath before he slowly and steadily makes his way to the door, shutting it closed, before he says anything at all. And really, he doesn’t even fully know what he wants to say, but he does know that he can’t let him get away with the things he’s done, or the words he’s said, or the pain he’s caused to the one and only person Harry cares about.

He’s never been one for confrontation — never been one to project his feelings onto people, or make his problems into somebody else’s — but fuck, it’s Y/n, and his love for her is so different than any other emotion he’s ever felt. It makes him hate, it makes him dangerous, and it makes him something so beyond himself when he sees her the way he did not just three hours ago.

And who would he be if he didn’t do what he knows is right?

“I’m not an emotional guy, Mason.” Harry starts, his fingers twisting and knotting against his palms, trying so hard to keep himself together. But this is too small of a room to carry around so much anger, so much loathing for one person, and the narrowing space between them is building so much tension Harry feels like he’s drowning in all of it. “But I am today.”

Mason’s full attention is on Harry now, fully suspicious of his actions and words, confused as to why the temperature in the room has suddenly fallen below zero.

“I’ve got a lot of feelings… never really learned how to express them. Got a lot of resentment, a lot of anger, a lot of love for my girl.”

Harry takes his glasses off, closing them shut before stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“Got a lot of all three right now. But if it ever came down to it, I’d do what’s right by Y/n and I wouldn’t think twice about it. Can’t say that for anybody else, except for her.”

And it’s true.

She’s the only thing in existence that can get to this side of him. He’s been so visibly numb his entire life, it didn’t matter how angry he was, or how hurt he was, or how depressed he was, he was so incurably lifeless despite all the vulnerability scrambling inside him. Yet seeing Y/n practically fall apart between his palms set something so deeply within him, he cried alongside her.

And now, he’s rolling up the sleeves of his jacket.

“You understand what I’m saying, correct?”

There’s a pregnant pause in the air, and Harry’s left starving to feast on this poor excuse of a man.

“Look, mate —” Mason finally turns to him, smiling so obnoxiously it makes Harry’s stomach churn. Y/n’s spent the whole day crying and Mason is smiling, laughing, even, like he doesn’t have a care or a clue in the world that he’s broken somebody down so badly — somebody so innocent, somebody so undeserving. “I’m a jokester, alright? Whatever I said to her, it wasn’t personal. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit — make some jokes, crack some smiles. All innocent here, yeah? It’s all good.”

Out of all the things he could have said, he chose all the wrong words.

And Harry just can’t understand how somebody could be so heartless and cruel and be so completely unaware of it — how someone could turn something already so foul into something so nauseatingly evil and do it with shrugged shoulders and a shit-eating grin.

His palms twitch.

But it isn’t until Mason pats his hand against Harry’s shoulder like he’s the one that’s being let off the hook, that Harry is pushed over the edge.

He should be on his knees, begging for mercy, begging for forgiveness, writhing in fear.

He grabs a hold of Mason’s wrist so tightly his fingers turn numb under the pulse of the very man he so desperately wants to demolish. And before he can even process what’s happening, before he has time to suppress the blackout rage crashing down on him, the fist of his right hand knocks Mason down cold.

It happened so fast, Harry couldn’t even keep up. One second he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with the enemy and the next, he’s towering above him with knuckles covered in blood that isn’t his.

“Man, what the fuck?!” Mason cries from the ground, his hand reaching up toward the side of his already swollen and busted eye, cupping the wound as if to keep the pain from spreading and the blood from dripping. “You just fucking hit me!”

Harry’s panting and shaking and still has yet to finish what he’s started.

“My girlfriend is not a joke. She is not somebody for you to pick on when you want to crack some smiles and she is not a punchline for you to use when you have nothing funny to say.”

The tone of his voice is such a contradiction to the rest of him that if anybody else were watching, they wouldn’t understand why he did what he had just done. Because he’s far from yelling, far from screaming, far from anything other than the way he’d talk in any other circumstance, yet he doesn’t care. For the first time in his life, he just doesn’t care, because what he did was enough.

He rolls his jacket sleeves back down, the side of his wrist wiping the sweat from his top lip.

“You could have done anything else, but you didn’t.”

His bruised and busted hand takes his glasses out of his pocket, unfolding the temples and sliding them back onto the bridge of his nose. And he doesn’t bother taking another look at Mason — doesn’t even want to — before he hooks his fingers around the doorknob.

“If you ever make a joke out of her again, I’ll kill you. That’s it. Just like that. I’ll kill you.”

When Harry gets home that night, he’s got his hands full of all Y/n’s favorite things.

Not only does he have two bags of her favorite take out, but he’s also got a pint of her favorite ice cream, a heated blanket she’d been eyeing whenever they walked down Bond Street, and a bottle of the sweetest wine he could find at the liquor store.

And when she walks to the front door to greet him, wearing nothing but underwear and one of his favorite sweatshirts, he realizes that he couldn’t imagine a single day not coming home to her, or loving her, or protecting her from all the bad that’s been chewing on her and spitting her out.

“What’s all this?” She smiles softly at him, reaching to take some of the bags out of his trembling hands.

“A peace offering.” He whispers so quietly, Y/n almost doesn’t hear it.

He knows what he did was right, but what he doesn’t know is if this will make her see him differently. Because what he did was not the Harry she fell in love with, and maybe it’ll drive her so far away she’ll never have to see him again.

But he’s praying, down to the very depths of himself, that she’ll understand.

“What?” She tilts her head at him, “What do you mean?”

His eyes fall to his knuckles, that are still scarred and busted from before. And as her eyes follow his gaze down upon them, she gasps.

“Baby —”

“I had to do it, Y/n.” He whimpers, his eyes closing. “He made you cry, I had to do it.”

And later that night, after they ate everything Harry had brought home until they could barely get up from the sofa, Y/n kissed at his knuckles, one by one.

He’d get his knuckles bloody every single day if it meant getting his hands full of all the love he has to offer her. He’d cry, and cry, and cry if it meant Y/n doesn’t have to face the world alone. He’d go against himself in every way, in every conceivable notion, just to make her smile the very smile he’s looking at right now.

She is stronger than any drug, stronger than any other pain, any other happiness, any other feeling he has ever felt. Because now, he is so much more than he could ever imagine himself being, and all it took was her.

She is his favorite person, his only person — his little miracle and the absolute light of his life, even after all this time, and he couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

And it was then, he knew.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles preference #emotionless!harry

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mostlycompetentwriter · 3 years

Text

Chan Request!!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Chan

Warnings: Language and Mature Content (Not really smut since the request didn’t seem to ask for it)

Genre: Idol AU

Request:

A/N: lots of people seemed interested in this one so...

When you woke-up that morning, you immediately reached out to the left on instinct, expecting contact with another sleeping form. It was your first sign that something was wrong, fingers ghosting through empty air, and you peeled your eyes open to confirm that Chan was already gone.

You grimaced at the faint flicker of irritation in the pit of your stomach because this was the third morning in a row in which Chan had left with no prior warning. The pattern was getting old.

Did he think you wouldn’t notice?

Of course you were bound to notice. Chan was supposed to be your partner. That invited a level of trust and transparency that simply couldn’t excuse these continued absences when you needed him.

It didn’t used to be this way, especially at the beginning of your relationship. For the longest time, you had both tried to hide it from the rest of the group, especially knowing that your manager’s would disapprove, but it was hard to lie when Seungmin accidentally walked in on you and Chan with the latter’s cock down your throat.

Still, the honeymoon phase of your relationship lasted for a long time, and even when you had problems along the way, you and Chan always managed to work things out.

It was the best part of your deep connection, but recognizing how distant he had grown lately made you reconsider everything. There was a point when you could hardly leave your bed without Chan finding a way to initiate something like getting each other off or managing a quickie with Chan’s hand placed over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum.

Frowning, you forced yourself to leave the lingering warmth of your bed sheets, squeezing your legs into skin-tight jeans, abandoned on the floor from when you had quickly thrown off your clothes before going to sleep last night.

It was another unpleasant reminder of Chan because after waiting hours for Chan to come home, you figured he had decided to spend the night at the studio. But you were vastly mistaken when he slunk into your room at around 4:00 in the morning, whispering a greeting to you after sliding under the sheets. You had slept more soundly once his arm was around your waist, deluding yourself into believing that you could forgive him for staying out so late.

Especially since Chan worked so hard to produce the songs that decorated your group’s track listings, and with the album deadline approaching for the end of the month, he was practically working himself into the ground,

There was also very little time in his overcrowded schedule left for you, and that certainly didn’t bode well for how much you longed for Chan between your legs....

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!”

“Coming,” you shouted back at the door, annoyed that someone had interrupted your daydream fantasies.

Especially since it was the closest you had been to Chan in weeks.

It was probably Jisung’s interruption since he insisted on being the annoying little brother you could rarely escape, but it wasn’t his fault that you were in such a bad mood.

“Good morning,” he immediately chirped when you opened the door, gaze bright with mischief.

You grumbled a greeting in return to your bandmate. “Why are you on the girl’s side of the dorm?”

Jisung scoffed. “Oh, so Chan can have all the access he wants, but I’m the one scolded for just saying hello?”

You rolled your eyes at his tone. “Whatever. Who cooked this morning?”

“Felix did,” Jisung replied, and you perked up a bit knowing that one of your youngest group mates had taken the time to flex his impressive cooking skills - it had to be better than Changbin’s attempt at frying eggs.

“Let’s go,” you said, dragging a petulant Jisung behind you as you both sauntered down the staircase together, joining the others in the part of the house where everything opened up into the common area.

Your managers didn’t mind so much when you were all together in the shared space of the living room and kitchen, but that certainly didn’t stop unmitigated romps between your male and female colleagues.

Your group was a rarity in the music world: comprised of twelve members, including eight of the boys and three of your closest girl pals who had all agreed to audition with you on an unforgettable summer afternoon.

The fact that you were all accepted into the same company, under the same group name, was even more of a blessing in disguise. You could always rely on them whenever you needed advice, and you had steadily grown closer to the rest of the guys over the years.

Next month marked your fifth-year anniversary (it concurred with your 1st-year anniversary with Chan), and your group was planning to release an album to celebrate, including some previously unreleased gems that Chan had kept hidden on his computer’s hard drive.

Everyone was excited, but the tension of trying to be the best and accomplish everything on time was always weighing heavily on all of your group mates’ shoulders.

Chan was, of course, taking it worst of all, and you were seething beneath the surface when you spotted him at the table sitting between Changbin and Hyunjin, eating breakfast with his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Why didn’t Chan ask you to come to breakfast with him?

“Y/N’s here,” Jisung announced, abandoning your side for his usual spot between Lisa and Sana.

Several of your group members mumbled greetings, but you were disappointed to discover that Chan hadn’t even looked up from his phone.

“Thanks, Felix,” you whispered when you sat down next to the blonde-haired singer, immediately peeling into the croissant that he served you.

“Is everyone coming to the studio later?” Minho asked, summoning your attention. “We need to go over the choreo one more time.”

Your muscles screamed in protest, but you reluctantly nodded your head. Meanwhile, Jisung let out an exaggerated groan at the thought of another six-hour practice.

“You need it the most,” Minho teased him, and you smiled at the good-natured jab between the two.

At the same time, you watched as Chan rose from his seat, depositing his plate into the sink. You rose to meet him halfway to the door where he stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket.

“Chan, do you have plans tonight?” you sheepishly inquired, wincing when you realized how ridiculous it was for you to walk on eggshells around your boyfriend and group mate.

“Busy,” he grumbled, and he didn’t even bother to look in your direction on his way out the door.

Later on at practice, there was an obscene amount of sweat in places where it shouldn’t be, and you were just about tired of Chan’s constant criticism.

For the entirety of your dance practice, Chan had taken every opportunity to berate your group members for even the most minor of mistakes, including your own.

“Y/N!” Chan barked, and you flinched at his harsh tone, sucking in deep breaths to satiate your demanding lungs. “We’ve been practicing this for weeks!”

It was the fifth time that he had stopped the song at the introduction of the chorus - the part where you were supposed to do a backflip into frame.

Apparently, Chan thought that your form was sloppy, and you bit your tongue to snap back at him. Obviously, he couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were hurting, and he was forcing everyone to endure hour after hour of constant movement.

“Get your head on straight!” Chan insisted, and for some peculiar reason, it wasn’t anger or frustration with Chan that had you pausing.

It was a far more heart-wrenching combination:

Sadness.

Bitterness.

Shame.

They bombarded you all at once, and you barely managed to swallow back the onset of tears before you were storming out of the practice room, ignoring Chan’s calls of your name.

It was instinctual for you to find refuge in the empty studio rooms on the top floor of your company building - where most people tended to avoid.

You could always find solace in the quiet between four walls, pressing down against the keys of the electric keyboard attached to the big, fancy computer monitor.

The same tedious note played over and over again, but it seemed like the perfect metaphor for your life at that moment.

Especially your relationship with Chan.

But the silence was never permanent, and you used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away the fresh evidence of tears when you heard the door to the studio room opening.

You immediately turned around, heart-sinking in your chest when you realized that it was Changbin instead of Chan.

“Hey, Binnie,” you said, feeling his gaze on you as he entered the empty studio room.

“What happened earlier?” he asked, always blunt and straight to the point as he drug a chair closer to where you sat.

“Just frustration,” you said.

“With yourself?” Changbin asked, but his tone left much to be imagined, and you grinned at his astuteness.

“With Chan too.”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded - like it made perfect sense. “I can tell.”

“He’s been preoccupied with the album,” you said. “I get that it’s more important than me.”

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “You know that’s not true.”

His soft and sympathetic tone almost made you start crying afresh. “He doesn’t have time for me anymore.”

Changbin was quiet, studying you intently. “Chan gets wrapped up in what he’s doing too easily. It’s like this zone for him, and nothing else is allowed in that zone except for music and lyrics.”

“So, there’s no space for me?”

“I think there should be,” Changbin countered. “And you need to tell him that.”

You sighed at the thought of confronting Chan after everything that had happened earlier. “I don’t know...”

“Be honest with him, Y/N,” Changbin said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “Everyone knows that Chan loves you more than anything.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you scoffed.

“So tell him that,” Changbin said - like it could be so simple.

Or....maybe it was?

That night, you knocked on Chan’s bedroom door twice before entering at his gentle inquiry.

“Hey,” you said, hesitating in the doorway.

“Y/N,” Chan said, and you were surprised to see him close the laptop screen, patting the empty spot next to you on the mattress. “Come here.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet into gear as they brought you to his bedside. “I didn’t want to bother you-”

“You’re not,” Chan said, and his gaze was chastened as he sighed. “Changbin talked to me earlier...”

“Of course he did,” you grumbled, planting yourself next to him.

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off again. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

You frowned. “For what exactly? Seems like I’m the one who got in the way. Guess you haven’t really needed me these past few weeks.”

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Chan frowned, leaning up to kiss you suddenly and unexpectedly. “Of course I always need you.”

You could barely contain your smile, pulling apart to sigh happily at his reassurance. “It’s just...I know we have the album, but I thought we could still do the little things like we used to.”

Chan nodded, gaze contemplative. “I’ve been ignoring you without even realizing it.”

You allowed your eyes to fall. “And in practice today...”

“That was uncalled for,” Chan interrupted. “I should’ve never raised my voice. The stress I’m feeling shouldn’t punish everyone else...especially you.”

His tone was earnest, and you could feel your shoulders dropping with every word. “Changbin was the one who said I should talk to you.”

“He was right,” Chan said, leaning in closer again. “You can always come to me, yeah?”

“I really didn’t feel like I could,” you admitted.

“Then that’s my fault,” Chan said. “It’s something I need to work on cuz’ we’re in this together, Y/N.

He smiled then. “You aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.”

You giggled at his teasing. “I can’t help it that I like you so much.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Chan whispered, eyelids drooping when he watched you move your hand against his thigh, coming to rest at the interesting outline at the front of his sweatpants.

“I’ve also really needed you.”

“Are you gonna put me in my place, love?” Chan asked, and you hated the arrogant smirk taunting you just as much as your shameless act of groping his cock through the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I can do that for you.”

It took less than a second for Chan to roll over top of you, grinning in a self-satisfied way as he slowly pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs.

You watched him with a contented groan as he threw them into the floor, parting your thighs to make room for him. Closing your eyes at the first swipe of his tongue against your slit, searching for a familiar mess of curls through a narrowed line. “I’ll make it all better, love,” Chan promised, and your fingers shot out to find purchase against his strong shoulders, arching your back at the promise of a night you couldn’t possibly forget.

#bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz oneshots #skz fanfic #mostly competent

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liitlesunshiine · 3 years

Text

High on the clock

Quirkless AU - Toya Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, drug use, anxiety, panic attack mention, suggestive themes, slight sexual themes

A fun light hearted fic. Definitely enjoyed writing this piece so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. ^.^ It’s flirty n cute n Toya is a total bae. <3

You and Toya are coworkers who try making the most out of your shitty job.

------------------------

“Goddd this place fuckin blows.” You groaned in frustration sitting across Toya.

“As if I didn’t know that already,” he sleeplishly replied.

You never intended on working in this shit show of a store for as long as you have but yet, here you were two wasted years later. You had high hopes after graduation but it seems no job wants to hire someone with no experience and you can’t get any experience since you can’t get an actual job that’ll provide it. So it’s forced you in this sort of awkward limbo and vicious cycle of going back and forth. You’ve been stuck wearing this shitty bright uniform with a barely livable wage and terrible hours. Miserable every second of the day, with the constant guilt eating at you for being so complacent.

Of course there were a few exceptions.

Of course… Like the highly attractive coworker you spent most of your time here with. Days spent with Toya were significantly better than the days spent without Toya. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as you had here. Because man, when days were good they were ok, but when the days were bad, they were really fucking bad. Some in which you were ready to burn down everyone and everything yet the sweet, hot, god-like Toya would make you melt with his cute quirky smile and meet your eyes with his own that you would absolutely drown in and next thing you know, you had completely forgotten about what you were upset over. Now, it’s just a bonus that he meets your sarcasm with his own, the both of you have always had this flirty like atmosphere that neither of you are willing to acknowledge but low key kinda know there’s an underlying sexual tension there. It was strange how well you both got along, the average onlooker would assume nothing more than a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship but it was really just mutual likability and connection between the two of you. Days with Toya were simply good days. And you were absolutely grateful for someone like him because god knows how terrible it’d really be here without him.

“Why don’t we make this night a bit memorable,” Toya who was right next to you behind the counter, gives you a side wink and unzips the company jacket to reveal a small ziplock within the pocket. Andddddd long behold it’s weed! You chuckle to yourself, never getting tired of Toya’s shenanigans. Very much appreciated as he’s best form of entertainment here.

“Toya we almost got caught last time, you really wanna risk it again?” Your words ran on deaf ears as he was already rolling up the blunt underneath the counter, “what’s the worst they can do? Fire us?” You stopped for a second and nodded, well he wasn’t wrong. Maybe this was the push you needed to finally leave this shit hole. “You got a point, let’s do it quick before someone comes in.”

While this is a 24 hour convenience store, usually pass 1am, rarely anyone is inside. So you suppose it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. Plus with Toya your bound to have a good time, who are you to deny him. You trusted in him enough to get away with his bs.

“Pass the lighter doll,” you fished for the lighter that was nicely decorated with little blue flames over in your small book bag and passed it to him. He holds the blunt between his two hands and you duck underneath the counter with him. “Ladies first,” he cockily said, you lean forward and placed your mouth on the blunt while he held it for you. He always did this and it always felt oddly intimate to you. Couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest taking over when his glass like eyes gazed over you. They always made you curious and somehow hungry for knowledge of his life. You’ve never knew someone so well yet know nothing of them, but that’s always been enigma of Touya. You exhaled closing your eyes, attempting to calm your nerves. “You know the only time I ever smoke is on the job with you.” He smirked bringing the blunt to his own lips, “guess I’m a bad influence then.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Everyone needs a lil spice in their life, no?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. You gently grabbed his wrist and led the blunt back to your lips again, he stared quietly at you. Which oddly made you tense up. “Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled.

“Like what?” He smiled.

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world that you can’t live without.” Now you both laughed. This was the usual routine with Toya; cracking jokes and talking shit for a bit and simply enjoying each other’s company while the store was empty. He finally broke the trance you were in when he spoke up.

“You know, having my father kick me out of the house wasn’t so bad after all,” Toya leaned in.

You looked at him with a puzzled look, he never brings up his father. Whenever the conversation appeared it was quickly diverted elsewhere. You didn’t want to poke or intrude but curiosity got the best of you and you couldn’t help but want to continue the conversation. “Yea? Why is that?” You wondered. His father, from what you’ve been able to gather with the little bits Toya has mentioned here and there, was that supposedly his father is some CEO to a multi million dollar company. Odd considering the likes to where Toya ended up but you concluded that they must’ve ended in bad terms. You understood how cruel and selfish parents can be and didn’t need further explanation on that part. Easy to assume considering how poorly and little he speaks of him. He shut your ideas off with his simple response.

“I wouldn’t be smoking a blunt with the world’s most beautiful girl under this shitty counter, if it weren’t for it.” Ha, that definitely caught you off guard, causing a light blush to form across your face. Even with a seeming sensitive topic he still manages to tease you. He’s got that cheeky smile plastered all over, “Got you choked up doll?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to tell him off before the door rang indicating that someone has entered the store. You snapped out of the haze and immediately got up to quickly realize that the person who entered was one of the regional managers, oh fuck. You nearly froze in fear and kicked Toya under the counter. “Ow the fuck was that for?” He looked at you while soothing the kick you just gave him but upon looking at your panicked expression and frenzied body, he quickly crushed the blunt and shoved it back inside the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t need to be told or explained which you greatly appreciated at the moment. Toya was always able to read the room, bless his soul. He clumsily got back up to which you had fixed his crooked hat and whispered into his ear to tuck his shirt in while covering him slightly to do so.

“Hi-ya hello, good afternoon, I mean good evening sir.” You embarrassedly stumbled over your words to which Toya snickered at. You kicked him again harder this time as discreetly as you could. On the verge of a panic attack. He gripped tightly at the counter, smiling at the man in front of you both. Hissing silently at the pain your kick caused him. He gave you a quick side eye nodding his head in disapproval. Which somehow made you feel drastically worse.

“Good evening to you both, I’m sure you know who I am.”

You responded a bit too hastily looking like a rabid chihuahua. “Yes! Yea. Of course we do, how are you? What brings you in at this time? It’s so late.” You manage to say within 2.0 seconds, the automatic robotic customer service attitude overtaking your body. Well- at least trying to considering you just had a 30-minute smoke sesh under the counter and your mind is desperately trying to sober up. Honestly, what the fuck was he doing here at this time? This has never happened and I mean out of all the hours of the day. Oh yea, you’re definitely getting fucked, the smell of weed was so pungent, it was literally embarrassing how bad the situation looks. You wanted to cry. Toya’s eyes were stained red and you only assumed yours look worse.

“Gotten a few complaints about this store recently. Wanted to come in and take a look.” You began to get a cold sweat, oh shit he knows, he definitely knows. You had words lodged in your throat that couldn’t come out. What could you say? What can you say? You’re in the wrong here. Everyone knows that smoking weed with your cool and kinda hot coworker under the counter is definitely not ok. Maybe even illegal, oh god what if this gets on your record. You’ll definitely not be able to get a professional job, then you’ll really get stuck working a even shitter job than this. Oh good oh god oh my god.

As if sensing the absolute panic and anxiety off of you, Toya gently caressed your arm motioning you to relax and to stay silent. You recognized the wave that washed over him and instantly knew he’d handle the situation, he always does. And if you could die in his arms right now, you’d accept your fate happily. Toya was an interesting man oh right, you always believed he held such potential to do great things and even change the world. It doesn’t make sense really considering you both work at a basic job but you had come to secretly admire the guy. You’d would tell him too, how you believed in him, how you had so much confidence for him to become something great but he would always shut it down and brush it off like it was nothing. It was as if he didn’t think he was good enough. It always bugged you that he thought so little of himself, but seeing him now causally and confidently bullshit the regional manager out of your current situation just simply reminded you of how special he was to you. Definitely got your pussy wet and made you eternally grateful too.

Toya was standing in front of the counter, making hand gestures while the manager just stared analyzing his words. You were completely z0ned out, only able to get parts of the conversation.

“We’ve been having this customer appear at the store over and over again around this time of night harassing me and Y/N. We’ve considered calling the cops since he’s always high off his mind, we’ve caught him smoking in the bathroom on multiple occasions too. He was in here about 15 minutes ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the smell.”

Ah the beautiful lies that slipped through Toya’s lips sounded like a symphony. It was nothing short of comedic and yet so fucking Oscar-worthy. You could definitely pay this man to tell you lies he with how effortlessly convincing he was. You couldn’t even care to listen to what the manager was responding with, but on his way out he waved at you wishing you a goodnight and you sighed out with relief.

Toya turns to you clasping his hands together “well there’s gonna be a security guard here for the next two weeks.” You laughed “I guess that’s better than getting fired huh.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he chuckled. “I texted Shigs to come and take over the rest of our shift.”

You looked at him confused, “how come? Either way, do you think he’ll be ok alone here?”

Toya slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back to you “yea he doesn’t give a fuck. Besides you look pale fucking white, guess this guy sobered your ass up real quick.”

You attempted to glare angrily at him but it came off as a soft puppy look. You had no energy nor the strength to pretend. It feels like you just got whiplash from the rollercoaster you were on. Figured it was no use in lying considering you looked like you just went through it. “Yea, I still feel high as shit, I just wanna go home already, only thing this guy gave me was a fat fucking headache.”

He ruffled the top of your head, “awe poor baby,” he said in a teasing tone, he inched up right beside you, “I got something that can help with that.” You jokingly pushed him off you, tying to ignore the warm feeling pooling under your stomach. Your mind was definitely thinking something dirty with a million miles per second and with how he handled today’s situation you’d be more than willing to give him whatever he pleased, but you pretended to cast aside those intrusive thoughts and act unfazed. “Shit don’t tell me you got Advil on you too?”

He chuckled lightly nodding is head down, “got something even better doll.” He scoots up next to you and grabs a bottle of excedrin underneath the counter, passing it to you. You excitedly open it taking two pills out “oh my god I didn’t know we had some underneath here, yes thank you. You're definitely my hero today Toya.” As if y’all didn’t work in a convenience store that had if not all types of medicines. It was the effort that made it special though, it’s what brought that bright goofy smile of yours to light.

You weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks while you swallowed the two pills. “Yea I remember you telling me you get headaches n shit and I know this medicine helps with it.” He was scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He never really handles compliments well but you tippy toed over to him and wrapped your arms softly around his neck. “I appreciate it Toya, that was really thoughtful. Thank you.”

If you didn’t see his previous blush you definitely noticed this one, which in turn lead you to blush. But you couldn’t miss this opportunity- “AWE is lil Toya blushing. So cute brings me back to my middle school days.” That caused a loud laugh to come out of you both. “Shut it.” he quickly and quietly said.

“Am I interrupting something.” You and Toya quickly untangled from each other trying to play off the slight tension in the air.

“Errrr um.. Hey Shiggy, thanks for uh coming in.” You awkwardly stumbled, you never really got along with him so there was always this weird loud silence between the both of you. He already seemed to be annoyed, per usual. The sloppy blue hair all tangled looking greasy and his patchy skin looking irritated and flaky as usual. He definitely was not amused or happy to be here. Well when was her ever. You’ve yet to seen the man smile.

“Whatever.” He takes a sip from his metal bottle and walks over to the counter.

“Shiggy you the man, thanks for pulling up bud.” Toya pats him in the back and Shigaraki shuttered. “Don’t touch me,” he flatly said. He glared at you both.

“You guys can go leave and fuck now.” The words caught you instantly by surprise and you got completely red. “That’s not what were gonn- ugh whatever like it matters.” With that, you and Toya clock out and leave the store with Shigaraki sending daggers at your back.

“He’s always acting like such a bitch.” You annoyingly complained.

Toya puts his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him “he ain’t so bad when you get to know him.”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes, you didn’t really care. You were more relieved to have finally left. He can rot in the store by himself for all you care. Not you or Toga would miss him.

“So,” Toya glided with his words, itching you closer to him. He was leading the way in this position with you happily following. Not knowing the destination but feeling completely at peace with his form completely snug at your side. You comfortably wrapped your arm around his waist and gently placed your head in the crook of his neck. This was nice you thought, you and Toya were always this intimate when alone. No hesitation or awkwardness, just simply holding hands and sharing body heat as friends with the underlying passion waiting to burst and to be acknowledged. But nothing ever felt rushed, not with Toya. You stared at him from this angle, taking in his beautiful effortless features. His lashes looked so long as you stared in slight jealousy, his hair a perfect black mess with hidden red roots if you stared long enough, and his eyes. Man, you could write poems and sing songs with how the eyes stirred up some emotion you can't quite pin down. Always causing an eruption of feelings you can barely control.

You felt the warmth from his breath when he spoke, “wanna go to back to my place and finish that blunt? Would love nothing more than to see the world’s most beautiful girl on my bed.”

You blushed and nodded looking at those piercing blue eyes once again “well, when you look at me like that I guess I can’t say no.”

Maybe this time you would finally show Toya just how special he really is to you.

#Touya x You #toya #toya todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi fic #toya smut #kinktober #mha todoroki

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kai-uh-arcadian · 3 years

Note

hi love!

can u write a hitch imagine where she and f!reader get high and go to a party and the reader and hitch separate, like the reader goes to play beer pong with connie sasha and jean while hitch goes to historia and annie to dance and reader watches her dance and pulls hitch with her to the bathroom and they fuck?

Hi my darling!!! I hope this encapsulated what you’re imagining!!

Full Disclosure: I do not know how to write smut nor have I ever attempted SOOOOO if anyone would like to expand on this with smut PLEASE GO AHEAD!!! The ending is open ended for smut but if you’re not into that it still makes perfect sense as is,

I apologize I couldn’t execute the entire ask but I hope you still enjoy! (:

DRUNK CONFESSIONS Hitch x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: Mentions of drug use (weed, alcohol), being drunk/high, minor cussing

——————————————————————

- “I’m here” you texted Hitch as you pulled into her driveway

- Your phone lit up and read “sorry I CANNOT come anymore, my fish is really sad rn😪😪😪”

- Two things:

- One: Hitch is already outside waiting for you with her backpack (filled with her overnight stuff)

- Two: she doesn’t even fucking have a fish?😾😾😾😾

- She gets into your car to which you greet her with “ah hi Bitch… I mean Hitch! DaMN I thought your fish was in distress?

- “Well be glad “Bitch” is here because she’s the one giving you free weed dumbass” she remarks while (sort of gently) punching your arm

- “Ooo, do I get the hot girl discount?” You smirk at her

- “Shut the fuck up!” She says sarcastically and starts to blush “just drive already” she shifts her knees toward the passenger door

- You got babygirl flustered😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

- You begin your car ride to Sasha’s house

- The Blouse’s were on a 3-day vacation to who-knows-where, all we knew is that Sasha was having a lowkey get together

- The guest list consisted of Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, Historia, Marlo, Ymir, Annie, Mikasa, Connie, Mina, Reiner, and Bertholt

- You arrived in the Blouse driveway and Hitch begins to pull out grape swisher pack container a blunt

- “Ahhhh~ look at this pearl I rolled!!” She holds it up in awe then shortly begins to light it

- You’re lucky your cars interiors is all leather and you have until tomorrow to air it out

- (You never smoke in your car nor let anyone smoke in your car but Hitch is the only exception cause she’s cute)

- You both share the blunt that is apparently “this amazing strain called Sour Diesel she got from her dealer for free because she made out with him”

- After about what seems like 2 hours (it was actually about 15 minutes) you both are pretty fckn stoned and decide to head in

- You let the group chat know you and trouble arrive and head for the door

- “Mikasa!” You exclaim and hug her as she opens the door

- “What did you say? It’s too loud in here…” she deadpans

- 🦗🦗🦗🦗

- “Huh? There’s no music playing tho…..😅” you reply

- Mikasa sees the gears working in you and Hitch’s head as you’re trying to process the “joke” she just said

- To give you a hint, she sniffs the air

- 👃🏼👃🏼👃🏼

- “OHHHHHHHH!!!!” You and Hitch say in unison after realizing she was insinuating you REEKED of weed

- “Dumb and dumber arrived!!” Mikasa announces to the gang

- You and Hitch head to the guest bedroom upstairs to drop of your overnight bags

- You both return to the basement only for you to be pulled to one half to play pong and Hitch to the other to go take shots with Annie

- Before the game starts Connie tells “YOOO let’s see who can shotgun the fastest!!”

- Why would you ever turn that down????😩 free beer

- You, Jean, Connie, and Sasha all puncture your cans and begin to go

- Ofc you win🥸🥸🥸 You’re a natural

- “That’s not fair!! I started later, I didn’t know we were supposed to go on “1”!!??” Sasha exclaims, declaring a rematch to which you all oblige

- “3, 2, 1” Mikasa counts down for you guys

- One rematch turned into 2 more 😵‍💫😵‍💫

- Now you’re 4 beers in and the night is barely starting

- the night continues on and pong has turned into a game of “Whichever team loses has to shotgun”

- Lemme tell you, Jean is DEAD WEIGHT

- bitch got no aim???👿

- Sasha and Connie are absolutely obliterating You and Jean so at this point it’s safe to say you’re about 9, Natty Ice’s in and about 3 shots that Hitch kept handing you in

- Speaking of Hitch….

- Where the fuck is she??

- Your dizzy eyes begin to scan the basement— she can only be in so many places down here

- as you’re getting distracted, Sasha and Connie decide to leave the pong table to do God knows what and Jean runs after them

- You decide it’s best to ignore whatever the fuck kind of trouble they’re getting themselves into

- That’s when you see it

- Historia, Mikasa (?!?!?!!), Annie (?!?!?!?), and Hitch making a Tik Tok

- For reference it’s this dance

- You can Ymir practically drooling over Historia and then yelling at Reiner for doing the same

- Marlo is drooling at Hitch

- The sight of Marlo alone ignited a fire of pure rage inside of you

- everyone, including Hitch, knows that he blatantly pines over her… some people even think they’d look cute together but who knows what Hitch thinks??? Does she like him back?

- ahhh~ your head is crowded with so many thoughts right now and decide to silence them with a disgusting shot of Pink Whitney left by your side from Hitch

- is this JEALOUSY????

- your throat and the pit of your stomach burns as the shot goes down but not as hot as the left side of your chest at the sight you’re seeing right now

- You find Historia, Mikasa and Annie VERY attractive bUT you cannot take your eyes off of Hitch

- It’s rude to stare but goddamn, she’s in a white tennis skirt that when she moves JUST enough you can see part of her bare ass

- (Go touch grass later)

- 1 of the 4 girls take turns (unintentionally) messing up causing them to retake the Tik Tok

- You are NOT complaining tho👀👀👀

- They FINALLY get the dance down

- Hitch comes over and stands in between your legs that are dangling off the table you’re sitting on and wraps her arms around your waist

- Marlo shoots you a look and you were about to say something to him but Hitch guides your chin back with her finger so you were looking at her again👿👿👿

- “Soooo~ what’d you think?” She slurs getting closer to your face with a mischievous look in her eyes

- If looks could kill, Marlo would have your head right about now

- MISS GIRL I COULD GET DRUNK IF YOUR BREATH😷😷😷

- “Huh? About what” you play dumb hoping she didn’t notice you blatantly staring

- “Sweetie you would’ve caught flies if you kept your mouth open any longer” she says right in your ear causing you to get goosebumps

- So she definitely noticed you staring

- And played into it😐😐😐

- You took the bait and she won this round

- She nuzzles her head into your chest and oh my god her scent intoxicates you

- A mix of vodka, a bit of sweat (naturally,,,, bitch just got done dancing her life away), strawberry herbal essence shampoo, and a shit ton of Victoria’s Secret bombshell perfume(or Tease, I can’t decide)

- “I have to pee~~ can you come with” she says grabbing your hand without waiting for your answer

- What’s up with drunk girls and tag team bathroom breaks

- (On a real note, I’ve been to a handful of parties and my friends always ask me to help them in the bathroom like what am I gonna do? Wipe their ass for them? Cheer them on like YES GIRL GO PISS!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳)

- Anyways

- She pulls you into the bathroom, does her business as you face the wall, washes her hands and youre ABOUT to open the door when pins you against the door slamming it shut

- “You’re an idiot???” she looks up at you with tears brimming at her eyes

- You’re just as drunk/high as she is (if not more??) she CANNOT blame you for not picking up the subtle hints

- You gave her this abhorrently shocked and confused face

- “Hitch wait what why are you crying I’m so sorry what did I do” you begin to ramble in panic

- “What did I do uhh I’m so sorry how can I fix thi—“

- She cuts you off by smashing her lips against yours

- This has to be a dream or just drunk Hitch actions because she is a flirty drunk so you don’t want to get your hopes up

- “That’s how you can fix it~” she hiccups as a tear goes down her face

- “I’ve liked you for a while and I didn’t want to ruin anything so I kept it in for so long but I just can’t anymore” now SHES rambling

- “Just *hic* seeing you everyday, being so close to you and not *hic* being able to do anything about it hurts so bad but I just had to get this out so I’ll leave you alone afte—“

- Now you cut off her rambling with a slightly less aggressive and more passionate kiss

- The smile on her face is the cutest mixture of shocked and pure happiness🥺🥺🥺

- “I want the exact opposite of you leaving me alone, I’ve liked you for so long Hitch” you kiss her forehead and she just happily sobs/giggles like a child into your chest

“Don’t tell Hitch this, but she’s everything I wanted and more” you give her a small chuckle, looking away as your cheeks turn pink

“I won’t say a word idiot” she says kissing the top of your nose

Anyone, Feel free to delete any part of the ending if you’d like to add the smut part of this request!! Hope you enjoyed

- K ( :

#hitch x reader #hitch dreyse #hitch headcanons #hitch aot #send me requests please #hitch dreyse head canons #attack on titan

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

just one day |void!stiles

word count; 10,744

summary; you need a break from being what your parents expect you to be and a little rebellion, and ‘bad-boy’ stiles stilinksi is willing to help you out with that, just for the day.

notes; reworked and better than ever, this fic is back!

warnings; smut, unproteced sex, public sex, car sex, vandalism, drug use.

It was with great awkwardness and tension that Stiles Stilinski had found you, occupying what you had now realised what had been his spot, as he stared at you with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. Body stiff and shoulders squared, he swallowed thickly, the stare holding and directed straight at you, unflinching, as you wiped your eyes clear.

Your nose was red, you knew it would be, your eyes sore and your voice hoarse, but you did your best to clear away the smudged mascara you assumed to have gathered under your eyes in the most subtle way possible. Trying to clear the lump from your throat as you coughed, he began to shuffle from one foot to the other, clearly not accustomed to actually having to deal with people who were crying.

You’d seen him around the halls before, leather jackets and a lot of smirks as he went, often in trouble for missing deadlines and threats about expulsion, but it never seemed to go through. Though, despite all the chatter and gossip you’d hear about him, you’d never actually met him before. Your social circles were so far from ever crossing that you couldn't even see his circle from your own, but here they were. Colliding so monumentally that if it wasn’t a hypothetical then the walls would be shaking and the floor splitting in two like something from a movie about the San Andreas fault line.

“I’m really sorry. Is this, like, your space?”

You scooped up your bag, trying to swing it over your shoulder, and cursing as your bags spilt out onto the floor. Papers went fluttering to the ground, and you sighed heavily under your breath, tears lining your eyes once again as you knelt down to try and gather them up. One heavy sigh and two scuffed footsteps later, and he was dropping to a knee himself to help you pick up your belongings, avoiding your watery gaze with purpose as you looked up at him. “Can’t really ‘own’ a spot, y’know. It’s all campus property.”

His words were mumbled, and you wiped your nose carefully, sniffling before a breathy laugh was leaving you. Tucking all the sheets from both you and his hands into your bag, and making sure to seal it properly this time, you got back to your feet and brushed yourself down. “I was just leaving, anyway, so it’s all yours.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“What?” Your eyes widened a bit as you looked at him, studying his features, and his shoulders sagged. His gaze finally meeting yours as he stood over you, a couple of inches added to his height over your own, despite his slumped posture, and you nibbled on your lower lip as you waited.

“You weren’t just leaving. You don’t have to leave, but I’m not all that talkative and I get easily annoyed. I’m not great company, and I’m not good with advice, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not the sort of asshole who’s going to kick a crying girl out of a safe space she chose.”

You gaped at him, before nodding and offering him a small smile which he didn’t return. His shoulder brushed yours as he swerved around you, spreading himself out across the large windowsill, legs stretched out and back to the wall. Twisting to the side, he expertly unhooked the safety lock on the window, pushing it open.

You took a more conservative stance, perching gracefully on the edge and crossing one leg over the other. With a deep breath, and a duck your head when he raised his eyebrows at you in some form of silent appraisal, he reached for the bag he’d disposed of on the floor, fishing through the front pocket.

He retrieved out a pale white roll up, clearly done by himself as he checked it between his fingers, thinner at the base and wider at the end with the twisted paper, a silver lighter sat in the other hand. Balancing it between his lips, he cupped his hand around the flame and clicked it on, pausing and waiting until he was satisfied that it was lit, the tip glowing orange with a small stream of smoke curling up and out of the open window.

Your jaw hung slack, eyes piercing into him as he took a deep breath, holding it for a second before releasing the cloud of silvery smoke his mouth curling into a slight pucker as he exhaled the lungful. “You’re smoking!”

Your words were hissed out in a stage whisper, and his eyes flicked over to you from where he had been staring out into the fields behind the school, a single brow raising in question. “Nicely deducted, Sherlock. How ever did you come to that conclusion?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest somewhat protectively as he mocked you, and he rolled his eyes, taking another drag of the blunt he held delicately between two long fingers, and turning to face you.

“There are no smoke detectors here, the staff never come up because nobody ever borrows these books, and the window faces away from the campus so nobody will see, it’s the safest spot.”

You hummed, once again rolling your lower lip between your teeth as you tuned to face him. Pressing your back to the wall in an attempt to mirror his position, you tentatively spread your legs out beside his, crossed at the ankle. Whiskey-brown eyes scanned along the bare skin of your legs beside his, the material of your skirt falling to you mid-thigh. His tongue poked out to lick over his lips as they twitched up at the edges onto a smirk, before his gaze was finding your own once again. “Shouldn’t you be in class, or something?”

“Shouldn’t you be in class, little Miss Student-Government-President?” He smirked widely as your cheeks flared with heat, but you found yourself laughing under your breath.

“You shared your seat with me, I think you can call me (Y/N), but only when I’m out of office. Must keep up professional appearances, and all.”

“Well, of course. What an honour it is, Miss President.” He rolled his hands cordially as though he were to bow, and you let your laugh come out fully-formed and cheery this time, not missing the flash of his teeth as he bantered with you. He tipped his head back, letting it hit the wall behind him with a slight ‘thunk’, his scrutinising stare on you never flinching, not even when he reached out of the window to tap away the ash that had formed. “So, why are you skipping class? I mean, that’s what I assume you’re doing, so you don’t have to go home and explain yourself to your flatmates. Doesn’t seem very presidential of you.”

Your smile was taken from you just as quickly as you’d been given it, and you didn’t bother to hide the way you curled in on yourself a little. “I had a moment. I got all anxious, and just had to get away from there.”

“You mean you had a panic attack?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and he watched you for a second, nodding to himself somewhat as he had a conversation in his head that you couldn’t hear, before he was bumping you with his toes against your side gently. “Yeah.”

“It’s alright, you know. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him with a hint of a smile and shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, I do.”

The silent confession hung between you both, tense and heavy in the air, and he was completely still, except for the slight shake of his hand and the twitch in his eyebrows. Suddenly, he was holding the paper roll out to you, turned in his hand as the slightly wet tip was held in your direction. He urged you to take it, watching as you plucked it between two fingers, holding it out from yourself like it would bite you, and he sat up a little further.

��What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Preferably smoke it before it burns away and nobody gets to enjoy it.” He deadpanned, and you looked at him with an expression that could only be read as ‘look at me, do I look like I have ever smoked before?’. He seemed to get it, and he chuckled, shaking his head a little. “Place it between your lips, like you saw me do. Then take a deep breath, and hold the smoke. It’ll burn a little and feel odd, but you can let it go after a few seconds, that’s how you’ll get the best effect.”

Doing as told, you placed it between your lips, feeling the thick and smoky essence roll over your tongue before you even inhaled. You weren’t stupid, you recognised the slightly funky and sweet smell, as well as the shape of the blunt he held, it was a dead giveaway. You weren’t so sheltered that you didn’t know what marijuana was, but you had never been in a position to try it. Taking a deep breath, your eyes widened at the warm burn that filled your chest, and you were barely able to keep it within your lungs for a second before you were coughing away the sting in your throat. His eyes were crinkling with laughter as he watched you, grinning widely as he waited for you to clear yourself out, before swallowing down and mulling over the aftertaste you’d been given.

“Not bad for your first time, I’m impressed.”

“Hey! Who says it’s my first time?” At your statement, he fixed you with the same look you had given him only minutes prior, but he was read as ‘do I look stupid to you?’, and your shoulders slumped. Meeting his eye again and looking to him for approval as you lifted it back to your mouth, daring yourself to take a second hit as he gave you a small and encouraging nod.

“I used to get panic attacks a lot, I only smoke when I need to calm down and feel a little looser. You feel better, right?” You nodded, surprisingly not coughing as violently this time, before holding it back to him and he took it, lifting it straight to his mouth to take a drag. “You want to tell me what happened that has your whole academic career crumbling to your feet, bringing you to getting slightly high at 10am on Wednesday, with the resident college fuck-up?”

“You’re not the college fuck-up.” You retorted, and he brushed it off, tapping away ash and looking at what was left of the roll, before offering you the rest of it, and to your shock as well as his, you actually accepted it. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to hear about it?”

“I never said that, I just said I don’t give good advice, and I don’t, so be warned. I will listen, though, if you want to talk about it.

“It’s my parents.”

“I assumed it might be.” He teased, and you shrugged one shoulder, moving from pinching the spliff between your thumb and forefinger, to clenching it between the sides of your index and middle, taking a deep drag and trying to suppress the urge to cough as you got acquainted with the feeling.

“I’m not ready to graduate, because that means moving straight on to work for their company. I’m not even taking the degree I wanted. I didn’t want to go to college, I wanted to take a gap year. You know I’ve never been to a party? I have a fucking curfew, like I’m eight, because my parents think they own me.” You huffed, taking drags between your statements, and when you finished, he silently took the blunt and stubbed it out on the bricks outside of the building, and closing the window from the cool breeze. “You know, I don’t live in student accommodation. I never got that independence! They moved here. They got a house near my college so that I can live with them. Keep an eye on me. I’m twenty-one, for fucks sake, and I’m still treated like a child!”

“You have a curfew?”

“Oh, yeah! I have no free time of my own, ever! They have me doing extra-curricular and student body president, volunteer work, and damn exercise routines. I get no time to myself, I’m studying or working out or working, I just want to be a normal damn college kid! I didn’t get to do any kid stuff, I had no high school experience, because my entire life is being dictated by my parents, who are living vicariously through me and not once asking me what I want, and now, I’m going to have no college experience either!” You were out of breath by the time you slumped back into your seat, almost breathless, and completely

“What do you want?”

You paused, your face red, still panting from your speech, turning to look at him with raised brows and parted lips. “What?”

“What do you want? I’m asking you. I want to know what you want.”

“I want to be a kid. I want to go to parties and get drunk and hold a guy’s hand. I don’t want a boombox outside of my window, but I want to have my heart beat a little faster. I want to get rid of stupid blazers and responsibility and I want to smoke, and I wanted memories I could look back on. I just want to not be me, and live like this.”

He seemed to consider your words for a minute, before he was standing up, swinging his bag over his shoulder, swiping yours up from the floor and looking at your pointedly. “Well, c’mon then.”

“What are we doing?” He helped you lift the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, before grinning wildly, tipping his head to the side.

“We’re giving you one whole day of college normalcy. There will be no working out or homework. In fact, there will probably be greasy diner food and some slightly illegal activity. Scratch that, there is definitely going to be at least one illegal activity today.”

“Really?”

His hand slipped along your arm, large palm finding yours as one of his eyes dropped in a wink as his fingers slipped between your own, weaving the digits together in a tight hold. Your cheeks flared, fulfilling the small request that you hadn’t realised you’d uttered until now. “Definitely. The first step, skip the rest of the day entirely, think you’re up for it?”

“Let’s do it.”

Your first stop had been the movie theatre, your brows raising disapprovingly as he rounded the side of the beat-up blue jeep and locked the vehicle, meeting you by your side and placing a hand on your lower back as you turned to look at him.

“Okay, I know I’m sheltered, but I have been to the movies before.”

He shot you a disappointed look, before rolling his eyes and pushing you forward to fall into step beside him, his arm coming up to swing over your shoulders as he guided you towards the main entrance. “Have you ever broken into the movies before?”

“Like, as in not paid?”

You could hear the appalled tone in your own voice, his amused smirk making heat crawl up your neck, and a strangled sound of confusion left you as he guided you right past the main doors and around the side of the building. He waited, knocking on the backdoor twice, and you waited for him to reveal his plan. Only moments later, the door was swinging open, the less than approving face of someone who was clearly his friend, a boy you recognised, who had graduated the year before. With a slanted jaw and tanned skin, he held the backdoor fire exit open, letting the two of you slip inside and into the dimly lit corridor of the staff only areas.

Guiding you through the thin halls, you found a palm meeting your own once again, fingers lacing between yours as he tugged you along, listening to ‘Scott’ tell you about the movies that were on. The pair of you settled on a comedy that was just scheduled to begin, taking seats in the back row and hiding in the darkness as the adverts played out. Only moments later, Scott was returning, a playful scowl on his face as he handed you both a soda and a bucket of popcorn to share, smacking his best friend upside the head, before moving away to check over the scattered other patrons’ tickets, those who had paid.

You hadn't had high hopes for the movie, but every other scene brought the boy you had somehow befriended leaning over to whisper in your ear, making you giggle and roll your eyes each time he made a silly comment about what was going on on-screen.

It was funny and liberating, and in the back of your mind was the niggling feeling that you should be in your literature lecture right now. Your bag, filled with textbooks and pencil cases, was sitting on the backseat of Stiles’ jeep with his own, and you felt lighter without the weight of it dragging you down.

Just in the couple of hours that it took for the movie to pass, you had found yourself unwinding and feeling more like yourself than you had in years. You never had time to watch random comedies, your parents had you watching documentaries and foreign films to help you learn your languages, and you hadn't seen Adam Sandler on the big screen since you were ten. It was liberating, and your cheeks were practically aching with smiles and laughter hurrying through the lobby with attempts to seem casual as the staff eyed the pair of you up, mumbles about not having seen you coming in. Scott simply whistled to himself and wiped down the lobby tables.

Your next stop had been a diner on the outside of town, where Stiles seemed to know the waitress, because the older lady had seemed thrilled or see him. Pinching his cheeks and making him blush as he scowled at her, she already knew his order by heart, but being nice enough to hand you both a menu so that you didn't feel quite as alone as your eyes scanned over each and every item.

You had never seen such a composition of greasy food and unhealthy snacks, but your stomach was rumbling happily as you looked over the options, eyes wide and mouth watering as you considered them. These were ‘treat meals’, you ate food that had nutritional value and assisted in brain function, to help you sleep and keep healthy, and assist on your workouts. These were the sorts of meals you rarely got to indulge in.

You finally settled, ordering way more than you could possibly eat, but Stiles had promised to do his best to help you finish it all, a cheeky grin on his face as your server’s eyes widened further and further with every item you added to your list.

“Lots of food, doll, are you compensating for something? Perhaps the complete lack of junk food?”

“Hit the nail right on the head.” You sighed, making a small motion with your hand as a hammer hitting a nail. Cheesy music played over the speakers, conversation flowing easily between the two of you as you tried to force the thoughts about all the work building up away from your mind. You discovered a lot about him with that meal, waiting for your food to arrive and sipping on the sweet flavoured shake before you, ice crystals chilling your tongue until you got brain freeze.

You were certain that these were some things he had never told anyone, or at the very least, he would be able to count the number of people he’d told on one hand. You weren’t sure why he was telling you them at all. It wasn’t until he mentioned that his dad was the Sheriff that you realised why his last name had sounded so familiar, all the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. He’d always wanted to travel too, but he’d remained in the state, taking the closest college as not to stray too far from where his dad may need him, and your heart went out to him.

He also told you about his mom dying, and how that was the first thing that had started his spree into petty crimes and minor arrests that he always ended up getting released from. You’d heard of his reputation, everything from being caught drinking and smoking underage to being caught vandalising and speeding, nothing too serious, but enough for the deputies to put him in a cell for a few hours to teach him a lesson, and wait for his dad to come and yell at him before releasing him.

He told you why he did what he did, how the adrenaline made him feel alive, like he was in control of his life and the thrill of doing something that he wasn’t supposed to give him highs and kicks that drugs and alcohol never did. He didn’t want to be a criminal, he just liked occasionally dabbling in things he shouldn't be doing.

He explained how he soon grew to have this record, and by the end of high school, he was no longer bothering to fight it, because the more he insisted the rumours about him weren’t true, the more people gossiped. He went from a flannel-wearing spastic who liked some mischief to a rumoured bad-boy with leather jackets and a habit for drug-taking.

You both laughed as you shared the rumours you had heard about him, and he shot them down, one by one, the two of you giggling as you believed each word he said wholeheartedly.

You, in turn, told him about the pressure your parents put on you, and the way you had come to suppressing your panic attacks as you ensured that you weren’t loud enough at night with your cries and gasping breaths to wake up the rest of your family. You told him about what you really wanted to do with your future, that you didn’t want a desk job and early morning commutes. Rather, you wanted a sleeping bag and a map of the United States as you went on a road trip, and then on to travel the world, but that would require you at least knowing how to drive, and your parents had never let you behind the wheel of a car before.

You spewed all about your real ambitions, to write a book or run a blog, something that would probably never work out and bring in steady and reliable money, but that it would make you happy. He listened to it all, never interrupting you or mocking you, no judgement like from your neighbours or glares like from your parents, but just acknowledgement.

At some point, his hand had slid across the table and his fingers laced with yours to sit on the wooden top in reassurance, only parting when your mass quantities of food had arrived. All the plates had been pressed up against one another as they filled the table, almost not having enough room, and your eyes were glinting to match his as the two of you clutched your cutlery and looked over the feast.

You didn’t finish all the food you had, not even close, but the woman you had come to know as being called ‘Margie’ had boxed and bagged it all up for you, hot and wrapped in tinfoil as you placed it on the back seat of the jeep. It hadn't clicked until today that these weren’t unfamiliar faces, each person you were coming across was someone you had seen around the town, campus or the library, supermarkets and the bus stop, and yet because of the frantic schedule that had been bestowed upon you, you had never even gotten to know the people in your own community. With each passing moment of the day, you knew you’d never be able to go back to just doing as you were told, graduating college to dive headfirst into a job you didn’t want, because you needed to experience all of those little seeds of interest, the ones you had already watered blooming into beautiful flowers of excitement and joy.

When you had moved to get back in the jeep, however, Stiles had been leaning against the passenger door side, refusing to move as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, a pinched look on his face and keys dangling from one of his fingers.

“Why don’t I teach you a few things?”

“What things?” Your voice was cautious and he shot you a look, before jingling his keys and taking your hand in his other, pressing the cool metal into your palm.

“In the car. I’ll let you try driving, teach you some basic things. This is a really big parking lot, which happens to be pretty empty.”

Your fingers curled around the keys, all but bouncing on your feet as you looked at him, taking in the nervous but optimistic look on his face. “I’ll be really careful, I promise.”

“I know you will, you’re way too much of a good girl to even consider going above five miles an hour. I could probably open the door and step out if I wanted to.” You shoved at his shoulder while he snickered, but you circled around to the side you weren’t used to getting in on, and he hopped up into the passenger side, strapping himself in and waiting for you to do the same, before you were just staring at him with wide eyes, the key clutched in your hand.

He started by telling you about the different pedals and stations on the gear stick, making sure that the radio was turned off for full concentration, and you tried your hand. The engine stalled, the car fluttered and bounced, and you squealed and hit the brakes more times than you could count, but after over an hour of trying, you had managed to get a grip on it. It was enough to make your heart race, and thoroughly exhilarating, and you were elated as you managed to do an entire circular lap of the parking lot before parking back in your original space with terrible form, but you had turned off the car and sat in your seat, your eyes wide and jaw dropped as you thought about what you had been able to do.

You had driven a car. And not crashed it.

You were perfectly okay, there weren't even any scratches on the door, and Stiles was praising you for how well you had done for your first time. In return, you had questioned him on what the jingling under his seat was, a wicked grin taking over his lips as he unclipped his safety belt and jogged around to your side, leaning over you to undo your seatbelt before he was helping you down from the raised step. Once you were out, he leaned down to pull out the several slightly battered tin bottles from under your seat.

They had dried paint dripping along the sides, staining each one with the colour it contained, and you looked between him and the bottles he held up eagerly, before a lightbulb seemed to go off above his head before he lit up even more, a genuine wide smile on his face and a buzz shaking along his body.

“Get back in, I know exactly what we’re doing next.”

“It involves spray paint?”

“Bet that fine little ass it does.” Your jaw dropped, and he placed the canisters back where they had been, smirking at you as he turned back to take in your wide eyes and warm cheeks, finding him pinching one of them like the woman inside the diner had done to him, and the colour on your cheeks only deepened. “Nobody ever told you that you’re pretty before, doll?”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty, it’s just that nobody ever told me I had..”

“A fine little ass? Because you do. You’re also absolutely stunning, and have some very pretty lips, too.” His thumb smoothed over them as he spoke, eyes twinkling as you sealed them shut, and you shook your head to clear it with a small laugh. “Go get your cute little butt in the car, so we can achieve our second illegal activity of the day.”

“Third if you count getting high on school property.”

Your witty retort brought a smile to his lips, and he tipped your chin up a little bit to face him, his breath brushing over your face from your close proximity, and you felt like you could barely breathe with the way it felt to be almost pressed up against him. “I am not a good influence on you.”

“You’re giving me the confidence to be who I want to be, I say you’re the absolute best influence on me.” His lips quirked up at the sides when you spoke, before your shoulder was rising and falling in a simple shrug. “My parents would agree with you, though.”

“That’ll be the first time anybody’s parents have ever agreed with me, now go get in the car.”

You did as told, practically skipping to your side as you clambered in, the engine starting up and Stiles peeled out of the parking lot, far more confident and experienced in his driving than you had ever been in your own. It wasn’t until you were out on the highway that he was reaching behind himself, eyes still fixed on the road ahead, but hand shuffling around behind your seat until he produced a crumpled pile of plaid material.

“You might want to put that on, I’d hate if you ruined that cute little top with spray paint.” You glanced down at yourself, a sweet white blouse with a bow sitting on your chest, and you realised he had a very valid point. You held it there until the car stopped, an hour passing by on the roads as he guided you towards the place he knew so well, pulling far up into the preserve and not even flinching as the two of you pulled over the ‘do not enter’ property sign. It was another five minutes chugging along the rough path through the trees before he was parking in a clearing, afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees and lighting up the area with a warm glow.

An abandoned building stood before you, and despite it only being the late afternoon, you were grateful for the extra layer of warmth when you pulled the flannel shirt up your arms and let the oversized material swamp you, covering your arms to your hands and your outfit down to below your skirt. His nimble fingers rolled the sleeves up to your elbows as you buttoned it up, patches of paint already on the fabric and making it look like an artist's apron, and you giggled at the thought.

You chose a patch you were going to work on, your palm pressed flat to the warm stone of the crumbling building, previous artwork from his own vandal excursions were already decorating the walls, but you found a reasonably sized empty spot for the two of you to get to work on, and a bucket of spray paint cans of all different colours and brands were dropped by your feet. It was an assorted box, some looking brand new and some looking like they would be empty and dried up, different sizes and coloured logos from collecting them at different times and stores, and you nudged it with your toes as you watched them, catching him rolling up his sleeves out of the corner of your eyes.

“I like this spot.”

“You picked a good one, what are you going to paint?”

“I have no idea.” You mumbled, picking through the box and selecting a dark purple colour, shaking the can to check it was still functional, and it clicked and jingled as you did. “Maybe my name?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't recommend that.” He tutted, shaking his head and watching as you held the can up to the wall, too nervous to actually press down on the tip and fire the paint from within. “Do your first initial, that’s more inconspicuous, and they’ll never know. Do your first initial, and a bunch of shapes around it.”

“Will you do yours, too?”

“If you want me to, doll.” You nodded at him, turning back to face the wall as you pictured the size of the lettering, how to best fill the space before you, and you found yourself tracing the space with a finger from your other hand. The man beside you chuckled as he watched you struggle nervously. His body moved closer to your own, standing behind you and pressing his front up to your back, one hand slipped around your waist and the other came to close over your hand, encouraging you to loosen your arm in his grip. “Let me help you.”

You relaxed back, pressing more firmly into his body as he lifted your hand into a starting position, his finger tapping against yours over the press-button and you pushed down, paint flying from the tip and he swiped your arm around in loops and lines. Filling out patches and making some thinner while others were thicker, you both worked until your initial was standing out on the concrete, accompanied by a plus sign and a large ‘M’, before he finally let you drop the can.

“‘M’?” You read it allowed, and he shrugged.

“Stiles is just a nickname, y’know. My real name is incredibly hard to pronounce, and it didn’t exactly go with my bad-boy persona, so people started calling me by my nickname more than my actual name.” He leaned down to pick up two new cans, handing you a pale blue one while he held up a red one. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, ending all of your wonderings as he whispered his real name into your ear. The way his voice curled around the Polish word as he mumbled it so quietly made you shiver in his grasp, even more so as he pressed a wet kiss under your ear before pulling away. “You draw shapes, and I’ll make these letters look better, okay?”

You worked in tandem, sharing jokes and funny stories as you worked to fill the space, until it was a colourful explosion that really was an eyesore, but you were more than proud of it, the two of you having overcrowded the space trying to fit as many doodles and shapes in as you possibly could. There was more paint than stone now able to be seen, a mixture of expert and amateur, clearly showing which parts were your additions and which parts were his, and yet it felt like the perfect combination of the two of you on the wall.

He appeared only moments later, wiping away the paint stains on his fingers, having swapped the box of cans out for the mobile phone you had left laying on the seat, holding it up for you with a smile. “Pose, I’ll take a picture of you with your art.”

You beamed, holding your hands up excitedly as you stood before it, a wide grin on your face and he laughed, opening up the camera and taking a few photos for you, before holding out your phone in order to show them to you. You set one as your lock screen, uncaring as to who might see it, because you hadn't seen yourself this genuinely happy in a photo in a long time. You even managed to persuade him into taking a few selfies with you, promising that if he smiled with you that you would never show them to anyone, they were just for you to remember this day by, and he had begrudgingly agreed.

The oncoming evening had been filled with you answering your parents’ angry texts about skipping school with a simple message that said you were fine and that you’d be home when you were ready to be, before he had taken your hand in both of his, pocketing your phone in the back of his jeans before kissing your knuckles and weaving your fingers together.

He took you on a walk down to the edge of the lake to watch the sun lowering in the sky as the colours changed from pale blue to soft hues of orange and pink, the sun not quite setting, but certainly heading toward that destination on the horizon. His hand had never left yours, even when the two of you had toed off your shoes and waded in the shallow waters of the lake edge, before making your way back up to the car.

That was how you found yourself huddling close to him as the two of you sat on the hood of the jeep, watching the sun inch closer and closer to the horizon. His arm slung over your shoulders, mumbled conversation shared in low tones staring into the distance, unable to recall a time when you’d last been this happy. You moved, rubbing the tip of your nose against the crook of his neck from where you were leaning, and he turned to look down at you, a fond look that had been building progressively over the day, the orange colours in the sky making his eyes look even more golden than usual.

Your phone was buzzing with texts and you didn’t care, knowing your parents would just be screaming at you to go home, but you felt more at home here in nature with the best day of your life to look back on than you ever did in your own house.

“Thank you for today. This has been the best day I possibly could have imagined.”

He grinned, brushing his lips against the top of your head as your eyes closed a little, feeling the patterns he was drawing on your arms go still, squeezing gently at your arm as you curled into him further. “It wasn’t just good for you. It was good for me, too. I haven’t connected like this with someone in a long time.”

You nuzzled further into him, sighing out against his skin and wrapping your arms around him tightly as your fingers curled into the material of his jumper. “Y’know, you’re pretty damn great. I like you.”

“I like you too, doll. A whole lot.”

It went quiet for a minute after that, before he was pulling away just enough to look down at you, a hand cupping your jaw to lift your gaze up to his. Deep and searching and intense, he studied your face, his nose brushing against yours, and your lips parted in a gasp, before suddenly, his mouth was closing over your own. Warm, wet and soft, he kissed you delicately, in a way that had butterflies sending your stomach into a frenzy, and your heart pumping so hard you thought your ribs might crack.

A surprised squeak left your lips, his hands coming down to sit on your waist as he leaned further into you, his head tipping to the side. His fingers felt like they were burning right through your shirt and into your skin, despite the delicate touch he held you with. His teeth scraped at your lower lip, nibbling with such tenderness that you were sighing out into his mouth happily, and he took the chance to slip his tongue out to play with your own.

The kiss became wetter, and hotter, and needier with every passing second, every tangle of your tongues brought on muffled whines and moans from both of you. Every knock of noses as you pulled back for frantic breaths before diving back in brought you closer and closer each time. You were no longer sitting on the cool metal of the hood, your knees were pressing into the surface as his hands squeezed at your ass, encouraging your hips in the rolling movements they made down into his lap, and your head was spinning with every press of the growing bulge in his pants against your sodden panties under your skirt.

His tongue was lapping at your skin, sweet kisses littered along your jaw and neck, and you tipped your head back for him, fingers tightening as you gripped at his shoulders, scratching at his skin through his jumper, feeling the tensing of his legs under you as he held you in his lap carefully.

“I-I want.. um..”

His head pulled back, eyes blown wide with lust as he looked at you, lips wet and red from where he was teasing at your skin, the breeze swiping over you and making you shiver as the night passed on. “Tell me what you want, baby. I want to know everything.”

“You do?”

“I really do. I want to know all your wants-” he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, “-and dreams-” his lips met your neck, another kiss on your jaw, before his eyes were closing and his nose was bumping your own again. “-and wishes. Tell me everything.”

His lips met your own, in a slow and tentative kiss that had you whining into his mouth, hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you tried to press further into him. He kept the pace slow and delicate, though, never even allowing his tongue to drag with yours in sensual patterns the way he had previously, before he was cooing into your ear once again.

“C’mon, doll, tell me what you want.”

“I want really good, hot sex.”

He spluttered, pulling back to look at you as he took on a look of awe and wonderment, and you pressed your hands flat to his chest, feeling his heart race under your palms as his fingers flexed on your hips. “I want it right here. I want to say that I was fucked, in a beat-up jeep on the top of a hill at fucking sunset, where I could have been caught, because it was so damn passionate that we just couldn't wait to go home. I want you to fuck me in your car.”

He nodded vehemently, licking over his lips before they were hanging slack once again, and the last remnants of the bad-boy persona he wore around everyone else slipped away as the spazzy and nerdy side that he covered so well shone through underneath. “You swore. Twice.”

“Guess you’re a bad influence on me.” Your eye dropped in a seductive wink, and he smirked upon seeing it, his grip on your only getting tighter.

“You know, if we’re fucking in the car, I can’t promise that it’ll be good sex, not the best it could be.”

Your forehead pressed to his, little pants leaving your lips and mixing with his and he hummed happily, never once recoiling from sharing space with you so intimately. “It will be good, because I want you, and you want me, and I think it could be spontaneous and romantic.”

“Romantic, huh?” He teased, sliding your bodies down the car, your feet stretching out beneath you to find the grass of the ground, and your skirt slid up in his hands until you could feel the material bunching around your waist at the back, the lace of your panties on full display, for nobody but him to see.

“Yeah. Romantic.”

“Well, how do you want it? We can try and get the back flat, or-”

“Can I ride you?” He let out a choked noise, eyes sliding shut before his lips were slamming into yours once again, and he was pushing you back around the side of the car, your feet stumbling underneath you as he guided you. Feeling one of his hands leave you to open the side you were used to occupying, his tongue dragged and tangled with yours, erotic sounds filled the air, the dragging of lips together and muffled growls of his as he dove into you again and again.

“I would fucking love it if you rode me, little dove. Take your pleasure, take what you want. I want to see you bouncing on my cock, see your mouth hanging open as you scream and come for me, calling out my name. You want that, too?” His lips were still brushing yours with his words, before he pulled away enough to look at you, running a finger over your swollen lips as you nodded. “Nuh-uh, doll, say you want. I want you to use that sweet voice, and speak up, tell me and the world what you want. Always.”

“I want to ride your cock until I’m seeing stars.”

He grinned, lopsided and cheeky, before dipping his head to hide the slight strawberry-blush crawling up his cheeks. “Good girl. Take what you want from me.”

His back fell back against the metal of the jeep beside the open door, and your eyes sparkled, before you were dropping your down to his belt, your fingers coming up to shakily undo it. He watched you with a dopey grin, letting you tug open the leather to dangle open on either side of the loops.

The button came next, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumbs rubbed soothing and grounding circles into your skin, dipping under your top to sit on your bare waist. Moving the zipper down, the flaps of the denim hung open and revealed the black boxers he wore underneath, a logo and brand name moving along the elastic, and you dragged a single nail against the dark trail of hairs that formed his happy trail. Following it down until you were pulling down the front of his boxers, as far as they would go with the restraints, until the bushy hairs residing there thinned to reveal the base of his cock.

Your lower lip was caught prisoner between your teeth, swallowing thickly as you heard his breathing hitch, just barely, but noticeably.

“Take what you want. Your life, your choices, you just tell me what you want, and don’t want.” He reminded, his words stern but soft, reminding you not only that he wanted you to have freedom from the trap you felt in your life, but also that you didn’t need to feel pressured to continue with him, and your heart skipped a beat at his kindness. Looking up, your other hand came up to sit over his jaw gently, pulling his lips down to yours and he let out a satisfied sound as you gave him a deep but loving kiss, portraying all your thanks and unspoken cares into the exchange.

Your hands slipped down into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his cock and pulling him free, a whine on his lips as you did and his jaw hung open, head falling back to rest against the car. “I want you.”

“You got me, doll. I’m all yours.” He promised, trying not to buck up into your hand as your thumb smeared the thick precum around his tip, slicking up his skin as you pumped at his shaft. Your movements were slow and torturous, the way his face was screwed up in agonising pleasure was enough to tell you so, and you congratulated yourself mentally on being able to get that reaction out of him.

With each slow drag, you took his skin up until it was almost stretched over his head, before sinking back down into place and he was letting out shaky breaths as you moved. You pressed your lips to his neck softly, feeling him tip his head to the side to give you more access, to allow you more space to move as you worked at his skin, picking up your pace and hearing him huff out at the feeling, his body stiffening.

You were nervous at first, just pressing kisses along his skin, but he encouraged you, broken moans and grunts under his breath when your tongue came out to flick across his skin, feeling him shudder under your touch as he gave up on his restraint and began to fuck up into your fist to meet your rhythms.

“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to go back to who I was before today.”

Your face was pressed into his neck when you spoke, before you nipped at the underneath of his clean-shaven jaw in a teasing way, and a high-pitched sound left him when you did. “I won’t leave you, I won’t let you go back.” He struggled with himself, but his fingers found your wrist, pulling your hand from him and letting out something between disappointment and relief as your touch left him. His cock stood tall in the air, dripping and flushed as it pointed out towards you, before he was pushing his pants down around his thighs and hopping up into the passenger seat. “Panties off, doll.”

His voice was deep and husky, brows raised as he watched you giggle, before bending at the waist and wiggling the lace down along your creamy smooth legs. He let out a few words of approval as he watched your ass wiggle, before you were climbing in over his lap and steadying yourself with hands on his shoulders. Seating yourself in his lap and pulling the door shut, you tossed your panties into the driver's seat, his eyes following them, before flicking up to watch you where you were perched in his lap.

You toed off your shoes, hearing them fall away to the jeep floor, before you were simply watching him. His red cheeks and kiss-bitten lips and messy hair were captivating, and even in the slightly darkened atmosphere as the sun set behind you both, he looked utterly beautiful. You shuffled forward until his cock was pressed between you both, taking his hand and lifting the edge of your skirt, pressing the tips of his fingers to your sodden folds. He beamed at you, probing through your slick core until he was pushing a finger into you slowly to test the waters.

“There’s one more thing I want.”

“Tell me. I’ll give it to you, anything, just tell me.” His voice was just as strained as yours, both of you holding yourselves back, and he swirling the digit within your depth, another one fluttering around your entrance before pushing in to stretch you out, your dripping entrance easily accommodating his digits as you fucked yourself down onto his hand.

“I want you to mark me up, give me a hickie right here on my neck for everyone to see.”

“My fucking pleasure, doll.”

With that, he was pushing his fingers up into you faster, as his face buried into your neck, your head tipping to the side and your hair falling away as he set himself to work. All the care he had used prior, when ensuring not to mark your skin was thrown away, and instantly he was licking a wet stripe over the patch of skin he had chosen, high enough on your neck that not even a turtleneck would hide it when it blossomed dark hues in the morning.

He scissored his fingers and stretched you out as his lips sucked on your skin, teeth nibbling and biting and a warm stinging of the most desirable feeling spread over your neck and chest, just from the feeling of his mouth working against your throat in wet and sloppy rhythms. You knew that the feeling of him, his touch and presence, was burning into your body and mind, for you to forever remember the boy who helped give you your freedom, even if for just one day.

The muscles in your stomach were clenching tightly, needy breaths leaving you, and you cried out as his blunt nails scraped idly at your g-spot, your entire body shaking above him as your nerves electrified. “Now. Need you now, please.”

“Whatever you want.” He pulled his fingers from you, a pornographically wet noise sounding out as he did, and he lifted his fingers up, rubbing them before himself as he smeared your juices over the digits, your cheeks flushing as you watched them shine in the low lighting. Sucking them into his mouth, he winked at you lazily as you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance, and bracing your other hand on the back of the seat. His large palms closed over your hips, helping hold you steady as his tip slipped into you, your jaw hanging open and eyes sliding back as you slipped down his cock slowly.

It took a few seconds, taking a deep breath and lowering yourself further and further until you were seated in his lap, his pulsing cock encased entirely within your soaked heat, and you both let out joint and needy sounds as you became entirely connected to one another.

“Holy shit, you feel so fucking good.”

You grinned, his nose tapping underneath your jaw to guide your face back up so that he could capture your lips with his own, and you smiled into the exchange, taking a moment to adjust to his generous length and girth, before beginning to roll your hips down into his. The air around you hung hot and heavy, steam beginning to fog up the windows and you were loving every cheesy and stereotypical minute of it. Soft music was playing from the radio that he had turned on so long ago, when the two of you had returned and decided to watch the sunset and talk, and now as the night rolled in and your bodies moved together, you felt nothing but bliss wash over you.

“Keep going, just like that. Good girl, so good for me.” His words were gasped out, you never would have placed the stoic boy for one to ramble during sex but you found it endearing, his voice deeper and raspier than all the talking he had done throughout the day, a husk taking over as he began to fuck up into you in a bid to meet your movements.

The car was squeaking and rocking underneath you, your mind spinning as you held onto the seats so tightly that you thought the fabric might tear, and he was gripping your hips for leverage on his movements so firmly that you knew you’d have ten little fingerprints shaped marks on you in the morning, your stomach clenching gleefully just at the thought of him leaving his mark on you again.

You were already close, both of you having been nearing your peaks previously, but the feeling you had been building before was nothing like this one. Every slick slide of his cock in and out of you brought you heights of pleasure you had never felt before. His tip was pressing to your g-spot each time, your throat was growing raw just from screaming out his name, body shuddering under every time he fucked up into you.

“Please, make me come. I need it.” You mumbled, mouths no longer working together but instead of pressed to one another, tongue occasionally flicking out to lick at one another’s mouths in sweet caresses as you brought one another closer to your peaks. Lifting two fingers up between your faces, he nudged them into your mouth, letting out a deep sound when your lips sealed around the digits as you sucked languidly, coating them with wet spit when he retracted them, before dragging them down over your chin and only seconds later dipping them under your skirt.

He pushed down harshly on your neglected and throbbing clit, the bud sending sparks along your body and he rubbed quick circles against you, mumbling his encouragements and praises into your mouth, blinding stars flashing in your vision. Your head tipped back, the heat consuming you entirely as the fire that had been licking at your lower belly became an inferno that spread over your whole body. You slammed yourself down onto him, clenching around him tightly as your whole body went stiff, and his arms snaked around you to hold you to him tightly as his face buried in your neck.

He came crashing into his climax, shaking and mumbling into your skin as you rode through your highs together, sweaty and exhausted bodies clinging onto one another desperately. Even once you had ended, you stayed seated in his lap, steadying your racing heart and taking a moment to catch your breath as you slumped against him. His hands spread out over your back, sweet words whispered into your ear as he pressed light kisses to your hair and temple, content to just hold you tightly as you both came back down to earth from the clouds you’d sent yourselves to.

Your phone was buzzing between your bodies suddenly, a shrill sound and sudden movement that made you jump in his lap, and he groaned as you did, before pulling a hand back from your body to fish your phone out from the pocket of his jeans that were now hanging around his calves. He held it up before your face, a sigh leaving your lips as your mother's name flashed up.

You shook your head, putting it down and pressing your lips back to his in a final kiss, before pulling yourself off of him and tugging your panties up your legs, laying sprawled out in the driver’s seat.

“You’re out pretty late, you really should let me drive you home now.”

“I don’t want this to end. When it’s just me and you, it’s good.” He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face, before he was lifting his hips and adjusting his jeans, tucking his cock inside of them and sorting himself out before he was rounding the vehicle to stand outside of the car beside you. Your legs came up on either side of his waist as large hands rubbed at your thighs, and he brushed his lips to your forehead.

“The person I showed you today, I can’t be that all the time, that’s not how people see me, only you see me. Let me drive you home, m’kay? You were amazing today, but it was enough, alright?” You nodded numbly, letting him peck your lips again before you were crawling across the console and into the passenger seat, yawning a little and resting your head on the window as stars began to twinkle in the sky overhead.

His hand was on your thigh, calming and warm as he drove, and your hand sat atop his, drawing shapes absentmindedly as you dreaded going home with every mile you gained. Despite everything that was coming over you, you couldn't find it within yourself to regret it, because this one day had been the push you needed to finally acknowledge who you were and what you wanted.

Your parents had stormed out of the house when they heard the car pull up, they stood fuming in the doorway, and he hadn't cared even a little as he directed your face back to his and pressed your lips together in one final connection, before he was opening the door for you, and smirking as he told you how nice it was to meet the real you. He was driving away from the curb before you’d even reached your parents, and even though you felt like all your confidence and security was driving away with him, you stalked straight past the pair of them and into the house, holding your head high as your heart felt weightless.

The following morning, you were proudly wearing the huge purple love bite on the side of your neck, knee-high socks that you had never worn before were tugged up over your knees and pressed to your bare skin as a skirt swished around your legs, a cropped jumper instead of a blazer on your arms. It wasn’t a radical change, but it was making you feel different, and that was enough for you.

It had been hours that you had lay awake in your bed, thinking over your life before finally falling asleep, and you had decided that today would be the start of a new you. Whiskey browns eyes met yours as he stood beside his jeep with a few of his friends, his lips twitching up at the edges but head staying ducked, and you had just enough time to return the smile and nod at him in a friendly way before his attention was being snapped away to the conversation, and you were walking into the main college hall building, and heading straight for the bulletin board.

There were a lot of sign-up sheets and campus clubs that all had your name on, and that had to change. Producing a pen from the side pocket of the bag, you used your teeth to uncap it, lid held there as you began to systematically search for your name, and draw a line through each one.

A shadow fell over you, and your body jumped in shock when a large hand landed on the wall beside your head, body curling around your own. Following the hand up along the arm, you were met with a familiar face and leather-clad shoulders, his body shifting to lean on the all beside your own, and you gave him the best smile you could without it looking forced.

“What, you not talking to me today, doll?” He reached up, taking the lid from between your lips, and wiping his thumb under your lip to remove the smeared lipstick. Your breath hitched, heart stuttering in his chest.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to!” You mumbled, and his brows shot up in amusement, hands tucking into his pockets as he watched your body stiffen as you prepared for the inevitable verbal mess that was about to pour from you. “You said you couldn't be that person every day, and that yesterday was ‘enough’, and I don’t know if you want more from me like I want more from you, and now you’re looking at me with that stupid smirk and I can’t read it. I don’t know if I’m supposed to kiss you, or pretend I don’t know you”

You huffed, your body running out of breath as your voice came to a halt. He took one of your hands in his own, the other coming up to sit on your neck as his thumb smoothed over the mark he had left on you. “I’m personally a big fan of that first option.”

You grinned, tipping your head up to face him more and puckering your lips eagerly, feeling his chuckle more than you heard it as he leant down to let his mouth meet yours. Your lips dragged together, soft and just wet enough for ease of movement, and there was nothing sexual about this kiss, but pure affection, the feeling that someone actually cared about you and what you wanted, and you knew it to be true.

“How about I walk you to your lecture, and later we can skip out, and I’ll buy you lunch while you tell me about how last night with your parents went?”

“Can we get curly fries? I really liked those curly fries.” The hand that was connected with yours lifted to tuck you under his arm as your hands stayed connected, and he guided you through the corridors, both of you ignoring the looks cast in your direction as he laughed lightly into your hair and nuzzled at your temple.

“‘Course we can, doll, whatever you want, remember?”

You nodded, settling your head to lean into him, feeling him squeeze you tighter to his body. This was what you wanted. You wanted freedom, and love, and the promise of fun and exploration in your future, and this man could give it to you.

#void stiles #void stiles imagine #void stiles smut #void smut #void stiles/reader #void stiles x reader #void stiles x reader smut #void stiles/reader smut #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien teen wolf #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien/reader smut #void month #nogitjune masterlist #nogit-june

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i-did · 3 years

Note

Considering your headcannon about Andrew kinda being a victim blamer to a certain degree, do u think it ever causes conflict with neil? (Or others) I think it's an interesting hc and it feels surprisingly fitting but I can't decide whether I think Andrew would voice these opinions or not... He is very straightforward and blunt but idk if he would just recognise that its likely to cause an argument and 'it wont change the past anyway so what's the point?' kinda thing.

(Just wanna clarify that I like Andrew btw lol, I just also think he has flaws and this is one of them, so Andrew stans don't attack me)

Short answer: yes, he brings it up sometimes.

Long answer where I show examples:

I don’t think he ever blames victims more than perpetrators for anyone except himself. I also don’t think Andrew thinks of it as “blame” but more like actions that were taken and actions that weren’t. If Andrew was too drunk to fight back in a shitty bar he would think “I will not allow myself to ever be drunk enough where I can't fight some asshole back, not ever again” and moves on. Andrew hardly even ever allows himself to relax his shoulders even, and when he wakes up, he wakes up swinging. His mind is very ‘fight’ centric, it’s how he was socialized and raised. I think it changes depending on circumstances as well.

(I will continue to use the word blame for clarity’s sake however)

Sober Andrew is a lot less talkative than manic Andrew, and manic Andrew definitely said insensitive and unwelcome opinions just to see reactions. Manic Andrew also lets his opinion be known to see if anyone is listening or cares as well, and sober Andrew does so as well, but in a more mousetrap way, waiting to see how the other person will react for a reason and to be read, rather than manic Andrews ‘just because I need some entertainment’ reasons.

Overall I think Andrew wouldn’t really voice these opinions and people definitely don't care to hear them, but they can sense Andrews overall apathy and don't appreciate that either.

I think Andrew would bring up his opinion scarcely, but it would come out sometimes, and it’s definitely not appreciated. Andrew thinks “if only I was stronger” about himself, and that's what he plans to do, get stronger. So thanksgiving hit him hard because not only was he re-traumatized in more ways than one, he has lost his belief that he is stronger than before and that's all he needs. He got buff, joined exy, carried knives and made sure no one wanted to be closer than a few feet to him, and when they touched him he made sure they learned he did not like to be touched– at all. I believe he still holds onto his “if only I was stronger” mentality still even after Thanksgiving, he re-establishes the foxes fear of him by punching and though violence, its what he knows. Andrew’s least favorite reaction is pity (and so is Neil’s).

Andrew isn’t the type to roll his eyes at anyone but maybe Neil and a few others, he’s very selective with who he lets see his more visible expressions, but overall he doesn’t have the energy in him to emote when he disagrees or what he thinks. He knows it won’t change the past, so he usually doesn’t bring his thoughts into it, but sometimes when he’s annoyed or angry or in an argument he will, and it definitely changes the argument from an argument to more of a fight.

I think it comes up most often with Neil since Andrew is comfortable enough to share his opinion with him and let it be known, and it’s not always appreciated. Kevin has definitely heard some of this even in canon from Andrew too. Andrew sees things very black and white, so when Kevin says “I can’t” because he's scared, Andrew says “you can, and you will”. Andrew looks at Aaron and sees an almost weaker version of himself who never learned how to hit his mom back. Andrew doesn’t understand those who don't hit back, not after Cass. He believes if someone isn’t hitting back, there should be a reason, and not a sentimental one, otherwise its weakness. And he sees this because its what he thinks of himself, and how he was willing what he was going through for Cass. He thinks his past self should have known better and been stronger, but it's too late now so whatever who cares– or that's what he tells himself. Andrew doesn’t blame Neil’s mom for hitting him necessarily, but he does think “and you didn’t stop her.” and the silent “and you didn’t stop loving her” is there too, and its something that him and Neil do fight on. Andrew also frames things in the “Neil will get himself killed,” way that most people jokingly say, but Andrew means more “undeniably Neil provoked someone, and it’s partially his fault.”

I think Andrew doesn't think it's Nicky’s ‘fault’ for getting hate-crimed behind Edens, but he does think Nicky was not paying attention and didn’t read the room like usual, and possibly could have avoided it, but what's done is done, and it never comes up. And Andrew is overall anti-family and how they can have power over you, so he definitely blames Nicky for letting his feelings get hurt and heart get crushed by the same parents who sent him to conversion therapy. He thinks “you should know better/what did you expect” and voices this in book 2 to Neil about the Thanksgiving dinner invitation.

With Aaron, I can see it coming up. When him and Aaron fight, it usually turns into Andrew shutting down and shutting him out and Aaron growing angrier now that he’s seen Andrew shut down, and he can't break through with his anger, and will then push hard before retreating himself and then pushing away back. And yes, the fight is about his mother, in a very similar way to Neil. (Neil hates this, because he sees it as different, his mothers circumstances different, but Andrew does not.)

I think if Allison were to be crying about being mugged and see Andrew’s blank face over Renee’s comforting shoulder, she would just spit out a “fuck you,” and he would shrug, knowing he has no comfort to offer her. Being mugged to most people can be very traumatizing and scary, Andrew grew up in foster home after foster home in Oakland, if he were to mug someone he would look for an Allison, someone who dresses well and likely has a lot of cash on them, multiple credit cards, you could get pretty far before they're all canceled. Andrew learned as a kid how to dress and look, so people don't mug you and if they try they don’t get anything, it's a pretty common city skill. Andrew also blames Allison for hitting Aaron as the reason why he choked her against the asphalt. “She knew what would happen.” He doesn’t think he didn’t not do those actions, but he thinks: cause → reaction.

Andrew thinks, ‘yes I took Matt to Edens, but he was the one who said yes to the drugs, his sobriety was just as weak as I proved it to be.’ Interestingly, Matt actually agrees with Andrew, thinking his methods were harsh but effective.

Besides Matt, Renee is the only one who doesn’t fight him on his opinions, I’m sure she sometimes agrees (or part of her does) and other times she politely disagrees and doesn’t let it rile her. He talks to her more though, and gets to hear his opinions about said things much more often than the other foxes, especially with how he likes to debate her and bait her good christian persona with his own personality, especially because Renee is ‘just like him’ deep down.

He doesn't blame Seth for dying, that he knows is partially Neil’s responsibility but overall Riko who actually did the deed (or hired people to).

As for Dan, I can’t think of any examples rn, kinda a lame note to end on, but this is how it ends.

#aftg #andrew minyard #all for the game #aftg meta #victim blaming #ask #the foxes #mailob

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chocominnie · 3 years

Text

Desperado — 09 (M) | JJK

Pairing: Badboy!Jungkook X Reader

Summary : A messy situationship at it’s finest. You don’t even know whats headed your way, just even engaging in the slightest within him. See, he has an assignment to complete. A mission granted by his father thats do or die. You just so happen to be a major pawn in that assignment. He didn’t mean to take an interest in you. Surely it was an accident right? Only except. you hold much value in this game that he’ll do anything to complete it. Oblivious is what you are. Poor thing. Poor.. Poor thing.

Genre: Mature/ Mafia!Jungkook

Trailer: xxxxx preview 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Word Count : 7.3k

Warnings : This honestly isn’t for the light hearted and the weak…High angst, usage of drugs, drug mentions, mental illness, switch!jungkook, Brat reader, possible stockholm syndrom, kidnapping, assault, death of side characters, murder, weapons, usage of weapons, masturbation, physical violence, blood, alcohol, weed, unprotected and protected sex, spanking, honestly its a lot of aruging…

TW : Suicide, Body Hanging for display.

Her hair moves so flawlessly and the her breasts spill over the mini triangle bra with each sensual move she makes. The way her waist and body whines against the pole could leave absolutely anyone in a trance.The rhythm of the music blasts in the air and she’s directly on beat to it, not missing anything through the song playing.

The led lights are dimmed low enough in a red color, but enough for everyone to see. Shes uncaring at the men in the room sizing her up in her designer high waisted thong that hugs her hips very well, showing off her round, plump ass. That was what she wanted, the attention all on her while they throw hundred dollar bills for her.

“ Who knew someone could get down and dirty like that.”

To no suprise, Jimin, the ladies man but heartbreaker for sure, enters the private room and closing the door beind him. He throws a stack of money towards her, as he was the seemingly late one to the meet-up.

“ Jungkook is late, he’s never late. What’s taking him so long?” A grumpy Namjoon says, looking down at his apple-watch. It’s half past 10 pm and usually he’s the first one here.

“ He’s probably sucking up to yn-”

The girl turns her head sharply towards the boys, overhearing what they said. She furrows her eyebrows at them, “ Why would he be doing that..”

Taehyung lets out a small groan. “ Because Mr. Lover boy has gotten himself a crush. The worst part is, she’s his target for this mission.”

“ Shut the fuck up. I don’t have a crush on her, i’m just doing my job.” A semi-loud voice roars through the doors. Everyone stops to look at the sudden intruder and to relief it’s him, Jungkook.

Of course he has to lie about that. He knew for sure he caught himself up with you and the feelings were strong. Though the big bad mafia boy catching feelings for his target is highly uncommon, and Jungkook doesn’t know the consequences.

“ Jungkook..” The girl says, frowning at him with her hand on her hips. He takes a seat on the couch and tilts his head at her to go on. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the young boy. “ You fell for her.. so what about us?”

It isn’t hard to say that he doesn’t have any more feelings left for the girl. She and him both knew what they agreed upon. The pair had history together, sexual to be exact. Romance was hardly there if he were to be honest. She’d began actually working for Won-Shik, under this club they’re in now which is owned by him, a year ago. Jungkook had entered the club once when he was considered a minor, but that was to pass a message along to the girl from his father. He was told to go straight in and straight out. Of course, he did the exact opposite. Sat around looking at all the half naked women that night as the music blared loud.

It wasn’t until his phone rang and it was Casper telling him to hurry up and come back to the car, is when he finally decided to get up and look for the girl. When he did find her, it was over with for him. The girl was, and still is, stunning. One of the many foreign girls in the club but she’s the one that stood out of all. She wore nothing but a small outfit as she danced on the pole. Her beauty mesmorized Jungkook that night as he watched her dance in awe. Soon enough she came to him showing her her dimply smile and perfect teeth.

He was stunned alright. She knew he looked to be too young for the club so she asked him his age. He told her, and thats when she nearly called security on him until he told her who he was and affiliated with. The message was passed along accordingly to her, she got the memo. Jungkook though, kept coming back to that club and always going to where she was, following her around the club like a lost puppy. She enjoyed his time, as all she did was sit and talk with him and that turned out to not be enough for him. He wanted her, and she insisted that he was too young for her.

So Jungkook did what any other person would do when feeling rejected, he started to present himself like a true man and mafia boy. The gym was his favorite place after that and he buffed up very well. That jawline of his got sharper and his personality gained more confidence and dominant by the time he turned nineteen. He of course kept going at her, shooting his shot anytime he could and yet kept getting denied. It wasn’t until his nineteenth birthday is when he begged her telling her how bad he wanted her, and that lap dance he kept suggesting months before. Since it was his birthday and he was legal, she gave him what he wanted but that still wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her underneath him bad. The slight age gap between them didn’t phase Jungkook at all. What he wants, is what he gets.

And he did.

And kept getting it, and getting it, and getting it since then.

“ Relax baby, I’ll still be coming around you know that.” His voice is smooth, smirking at her. He wasn’t going to be coming around as much, but he knew that would disappoint her.

She purses her lips and begins walking towards him and sits directly on his lap, straddling him. Jungkook can’t push her off the way he wants to because it would confirm the crush rumors from the boys about you. So he lets her sit there, uncomfortable as hell for him.

Namjoon clears his throat to get the rest of the group attention. It’s nearly 11 pm and Crystal has been blowing up his phone ever since he stepped foot in the club. He told her beforehand about the meeting, but she wanted him at her apartment by at least 1 am.

“ We all know you love yn, but remember who you are Jungkook.” Namjoon says, glaring at the boy who returns the glare back at him. “ Fuck you. Like I said, im just doing my job.”

“ If you were doing your job Jungkook, there’s no way in the hell that it should take you this long. “ Jin retaliates. He knows hes right.

By this time, Jimin had finished preparing seven perfectly rolled blunts filled with the most finest imported weed. He places them onto the tray, taking his own and then passing the tray to Yoongi. Each of the boys take their own until it reaches down to Jungkook who takes his and puts the tray back onto the table.

“ Enough about her. I was summoned to go over the details for the next seven days. “ Jungkook groans, sparking his blunt and inhaling. He passes it Melanie, who takes it to inhale as well.

A malicious smile comes upon Yoongi’s face as he exhales the smoke into the already fogged up air. One thing he loves to talk about is torture. One of bangtan’s best walking torture device to be known.

“ Tonight we are starting.. I say you let me go first.” Yoongi pauses, taking a long inhale of his blunt. “ I’m coming for their trade transaction place. Arson, let me burn the bitch down and then fuck around with their father.”

It’s a good idea. Sending a message after burning it down straight to it’s opponent. Fire is Yoongi’s thing, and that’s his signature marking in the Bangtan Boys. The father of the shooter was one of their dealers, until the shooter’s father fucked up by taking money out of bangtan’s cut little by little. The boys knew about it, they waited for the perfect time back then to take action. Of course, giving them a mission to complete.. or so he thought. The mission was a false one. Created by Jungkook to catch him off guard. Jungkook used some of the mafia men on Won-Shik’s side to set up a trade off of drugs, decieving the shooter’s father by thinking they were just setting up a regular mafia trade from another gang. The trade was complete, but their protection was no more. Needless to say, the men didn’t even make it back to their cars. It was a bloodshed war between Jungkook’s assigned men and their men. The point was to send a memo that the Bangtan Boys were coming for them, and coming hard.

Everynight for two weeks unimaginable signs were sent to their family. Ranging all the way from several gunshot bullets going through their home, to severed heads of previous betrayers of the bangtan boys, sitting right on their porch. By now, all the other gangs in Korea knew not to have any business with them.

“ Day 2 I want it. I’m going for the mother. That scamming bitch and her precious flower shop? I’m shooting it up. Whoever lives, lives. Whoever dies, dies.” Jimin shrugs, smirking as he leans back in his spot.

“ Day 3, for me I’m sending another message. One of their men is gonna die in my god damn hands. I’ll be sure to take a selfie and send it to the father. The body will lay hanging on that pretty little oak tree in their yard.” Taehyung says. The boys are roar with shock that he’s said that. Normally he doesn’t like touching a dead body, so it’s a change for him.

The boys continue listing off the days and assigned tasks for the rest of the night into the wee early morning. Namjoon left after his, of course going straight to his girls apartment. They don’t judge him, seeing as though the boy really is in love and knows when and how to handle it. He definately doesn’t mix business and his love life together, unlike his other hyung. Soon enough the banter and socializing ends and it’s time for Yoongi first.

Night 1

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to find the place. The empty steets of Seoul have soon faded into just dirt roads with the city left behind. The humming of his porsche echos through the night time air. Yoongi takes one final turn, making sure to pull into the place slowly like a true hunter keeping it’s eye on its prey. It’s not a full house tonight, even better.

Taking the jug of gasoline out his car, he carries it with ease up to the empty warehouse. The wildlife outside don’t make a noise. As if they know who’s approaching and just shut right up. Forty degrees fahrenheit outside and lastnight’s snowfall piled all around.The darkness outside is haunting, anything could pop out at any second to kill the man. That doesn’t scare him at all. Darkness is always what he crave. Inside and out.

“ Sir.. do you want us to go in with you?”

Yoongi stops dead in his tracks. He’d almost forgotten about the back-up men Jungkook ordered for him. It’s not like he needed them anyways, but since Jungkook can’t be there with Yoongi, that was the next best choice.

Rolling his eyes without turning around,“ No. Wait in your cars. I’ll handle it on my own.”

Just like that. The boys are off like lightening. Yoongi takes one final step towards the two double doors, and begins to pour the gasoline at it’s starting point. Usually, he’d go from the inside out, but seeing as though he wanted them to scurry out fearing for their lives, this is the next option as well. Soon enough, the enire jug is empty and he’s now poured all of it around the outside of the warehouse. Leaves crunch with every step he makes back to the starting point. Part of him hopes they can’t hear him from the outside. It’ll ruin the plans.

The lighter in his pocket feels so smoothe against his palms as he reaches for it. It’s one of his signature ones with his initials on it. An andrenaline rush runs through his veins as flicks the ignition with his thumb. The flame all bright and orange as he stands there infront of the building. It’s going to be a damn good night.

Without hesitating, Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair and throws the lighter right onto the gasoline puddles. The way the whole ring of fire lights up infront of his eyes makes him laugh hysterically while watching the whole building go into flames. The loud crackling sounds of the now decomposing warehouse jumps him back into reality.

He heads right towards the big tree next to the right of the warehouse, leaning on it with one foot up against it with his hands crossed. That sinister smile doesn’t leave his face. He enjoys the view of the men from the inside running out as fast as they can. Some falling in the ring of fire in the process. The fire is no match for any human as they try to stop drop and roll. Ha, as if that would work with a 15 foot fire consuming the warehouse. The dead bodies pile up on their own, just burning in the fire over their simple mistakes of falling and thinking they would survive the fire.

Until the golden egg comes out. He’s furious as runs out perfectly, as if he’s been through this, without managing to catch on fire. Yoongi chuckles, leaning off the tree. “ Kang Dong-Woo.”

Usually Yoongi would use the honorfics to people who were much older than him. In this case though, he doesn’t deserve honorifics.

“ Min Yoongi.” He says, harshness laced within his voice. Dongwoo frowns when nearing the man. He knows what Yoongi is capable of, and that’s what sets his fight for flight into action.

“ Let’s get straight to it. Your daughter is after our leader. She seems to be doing the dirty work for you yeah? Did you not train her enough? Of course you know she wont be able to live after this right?”

Dongwoo laughs right into Yoongi’s face as if he was joking. It angers Yoongi, so he grabs Dongwoo by the shirt and drags the man over to the fire where he kicks the back of his legs to where he’s kneeling inches away from it.

“ I don’t think this is a laughing matter, Dongwoo.” He growls, tightening his grip around Dongwoo’s arms that are behind his back. “ You want to die?”

“ She’s gonna fuck you all over.” He growls.” You may think she’s not capable of finishing off you guys one by one, but she is. I raised and trained her since a kid. She’s stronger with more energy than me. She’ll kill you all when you least expect it.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at him.” The dumb bitch can’t even shoot right. Going for someone else knowing Jungkook would save them is an ameteur move. Should’ve went straight for his damn head.”

“ I’ll make sure she’ll bring you guys hell Min Yoongi. All of you. Tell that shit to Jungkook and his daddy for me alright?” He mocks, laughing again at the boy to taunt him.

Yoongi doesn’t care for it. He’s had enough of this foolish talk. With one swift move he kicks the man’s back making him fall down to the left side, away from the fire. He’s lost it. He’s totally lost it at this point and there is no going back. Kick after kick after kick, he doesn’t stop. No. Not until the Dongwoo is sure to cough up blood. The crimson liquid poors from his mouth as he lays there. No remorse is felt.

Besides, the bastard bitch needed to get the message. Consider it message recieved.

Night 2

The flower shop is full, but not full to its entirety. There's tons of different bouquets and arrangements set around the pretty shop, from what he can see from the outside. It’s almost closing time, an hour left. Jimin’s fingertips grip on the steering wheel, anxious but patient to make his move. He’s running off of pure adrenaline and 2 cans of monster that are crushed and sitting in the passenger seat. Waiting isn’t his forte and he’d honestly like to get this show on the road now.

The moon is out and shining bright tonight. A sigh escapes his lips when he glances again at the shop. The only reason he’s not done it yet is due to the fact that there is a child and his mother inside. Rule number 2 of Bangtan, injure no child. The price to pay if you were to break the rule? Simply it would cost you your own damn life.

As if time would of went any slower for the boy, the child and his mother finally made their transaction and made it out of the store, heading across the street to continue their journey of shopping. It’s go time.

He knew to come prepared with his bulletproof vest and full face ski mask, long Sleeve black shirt to cover all the markings he has and also the two tattoos on each of his arms. He knew that the little lady wouldn’t be so dumb to not carry, or at-least have someone inside that would be her undercover security. Considering who her husband is, there’s no way she won’t be protected.

Oh how innocent the people look to not know what’s coming next. Jimin loads his Glock 19 with golden bullets that have Bangtan Boys initials and symbols on it just before pulling his mask down and getting out the car. He makes sure to signal his back-up men to create a distraction so he could make his entrance. Sure enough, a loud boom in the near distance of what sounds like some type of construction falling, echos loudly. It turns heads from all around to look where the sound came from, making it easy for Jimin to slide into the flower-shop.

Not a sound made by him. He draws his gun and pulls the safety off the trigger, then cocks it. Eyes are all on him as his eyes shift around the room looking for his target. There she is, eyes wide in the middle of a transaction for two middle aged couple. His eyes set into hers, lowly smiling and pointing it at her. The way everyone frantically screams and cries out doesn’t phase Jimin, no. It just encourages him even more as he starts firing shots mid air, shooting any and every person in sight for the hell of it. Bodies drop to the ground, and the bloodbath begins.

Jimin doesn’t hesitate to step over everybody, eyes still set on his target. The middle aged couple’s shrieks were cut short by their bodies dropping to the ground with three shots each to their hearts.

“ Park J-” He cuts her crying off with a finger to his lips, daring her to say his name in public. She gets the memo. “ I wouldn’t if I were you.”

The barrel is pressed against her temple as she trembles with fear. He cocks his head to the side, smiling at her when he taps the gun against her head harshly, repeatedly. “ You know why I’m here.”

“ You kill me and she will murder you all.”

Jimin chuckles, “ That’s what you guys think. We don’t have time for your gimmicks. It was you guys who stole money from us. Why did you think you’d still be protected from the law from us? Getting your daughter to go for the leader first is dumb, like the rest of you.”

“ We almost went to prison for you guys, remember that? We needed that cut money from you guys to pay off our legal fees. Thats why we stole. We completed your dirty work while trying to pay off the fees, its the least you guys could of did as a reward.”

“ That’s not how it would’ve worked. You fucked up. All of you.”

With two shots to the leg, she falls into Jimins arms. He rolls his eyes and throws his body off of him and onto the floor. It’s going to be a headache trying to explain to the dry cleaners why there is blood stains on his designer ripped jeans.

Night 3

It was too easy, way too easy. It took nothing to lure that man right into Taehyung’s trap. Nothing but a simple few slick comments made to him for him to get a riled up at the wrong person. Taehyung had spotted the man prior heading into the park with a small duffle bag. He assumed it was for a night trade off for some other person who had delivered drugs for him. Nontheless, it was merely too easy to pose as the alleged person who completed the mission.

A rookie. That guy must’ve been a rookie.

When the money was handed off to Taehyung, he tossed it to the side and struck the man down. The two did fight on the concrete floor for a bit but the man was no match for Taehyung’s quick moves. Taehyung’s pocket knife dances around the man’s throat as his body is pinned to the ground.

“ Rookie mistake not verifying if I’m the real one.” He chuckles, pressing the blade against the mans neck. The man pleads for his life but it’s no use. Message must be sent, that it’s no way you’ll fuck around with Bangtan and escape.

“ You know, I would’ve trained you more than Dongwoo. Letting the weakest link go run an errand? Ha. Your boss set you up for that one.”

Although the man is merely innocent, it doesn’t stop Taehyung from slicing into the man’s neck. A blood curdling scream comes out, but soon hushed over as his will of breathing and screaming is cut. It’s music to Tae’s ears.

The body is transfered per request of Taehyung to his back-up men. It’s not like him to touch a bloody dead body. So they take him into the back of their car and follow Taehyung to the residential house of the shooter. Nothing more than 10 minutes away.

The lights are cut off in the neighborhood. Not a sound made other than the two cars coming down the street. Everyone seems to be at peace and quiet in their homes. Sleeping to say the least. Upon arrival, Taehyung parks his car right infront of the house. The back-up men drag the bloody body out the car and onto their lawn, placing it right under the oak tree.

Taehyung takes the rope be brought along with him, and begins to tie multiple knots around a sturdy branch from the tree. When done, he wraps some of the rope around the dead boy’s neck, tying it into a slipknot and hoists him up high into the air.

The body dangles from the tree like a flag waving in the sky proud and high. He signals for the boys that the assignment is done and that they’re free to leave. Taehyung though, he just sits back in admiration of his work. It’s been a while sinice he felt this way. So he stands there soaking it all in.

Message recieved.

Since it’s been three entire days of hell, Jungkook knew his day will be approaching faster than ever. If only it could get here faster though. Truth is, Won-Shik isn’t too happy about Jungkook’s plan still not being complete. At this point, the father is going against him any chance he gets to just get this over with.

Luckily, tonight he’d be able to meet with his father again with some good news. It hasn’t been brought to his attention yet about your father being in Taiwan. With the technology of Won-Shik’s men, your father could be brought here within 12 hours tops.

“ Father.” Jungkook says, entering his office doors. The boy fixes his leather jacket upon entering and places his hands back into his pockets. “ I have news.”

Won-Shik is one to not play around with. Interupting his office time is a big, big deal. One is to not enter without it being urgency. That rule still applies to the heir of the company. “ It better be damn good because your plan isn’t getting anywhere Jeon Jungkook.”

Won-Shik takes his glasses off and sets them to the side on his desk. Its full of papers and photos of himself and Jungkook when he was a child. His favorite one right in the middle, where Jungkook had just ate some cherry flavored ice cream and his lips were all red as he smiled for the camera showing his two front teeth. It reminded him of when Jungkook was easier to manage rather as to now where he’s a damn menace.

“ Taiwan. Her father is in Taiwan. I don’t think it’s Taipei though.. he’s hiding so a city wouldn’t be ideal. I say search the mountains first, then the city.”

Bringing this proposal to the table meant that Jungkook wanted to atleast gain his father’s trust back. Hell, he wanted all this to be over with by now because you were driving him crazy to the point where he’s beginning to actually forget who the hell he was and why he was assigned this mission. The plan was not to fall, but to complete. He’d be lying if he wasn’t knee deep in love with you right now. It all comes down to him protecting you from his father at this point.

“ So your little plan is suddenly working huh.. still doesn’t mean she gets to run free Jungkook.” He says, smirking at the boy to challange him. Jungkook knew that. Once it’s proven that your father is the snitch, all of the family dies.

You’re innocent. Too innocent to know that or to be even tangled in that mafia mess of his. Part of him wishes he never met you and never had been assigned this mission. Then everything would be so damn different and emotions wouldn’t be caught up in this. From the moment he met you, he knew it would be hard. You have always held a special part in his heart. Only because you acted just like his mother. Sweet, but sassy and it hurt him a lot on how you remind him of her. You even word your words just like her, even when upset. Everything about you, is just like her.

It was hard to not get attached to wanting to get to know you more. Somehow he thought that if he got to know you, he’d somehow fill that hole inside him of his mother’s disappearance. As if you were going to be his new replica as you would be the one to put a band-aid on that hole to patch it up.

Here you are, not knowing you could die any moment and it will all be thanks to Jeon Jungkook, who couldn’t save you fast enough.

“ I know. But she’s innocent. She doesn’t even know her dad worked with us. I swear she doesn’t.” Jungkook bites his lip in hopes that there could be someway to save you by the hands of your father.

“ I dont care!” He roars, jumping out his seat. Jungkook flinches, backing up a bit from the sudden outburst. “ You know not to mix business and pleasure. You reap what you sew. You get to pay the consequences.”

Jungkook knew that though.

“ Father-”

“ Nothing more. I’ll have my team start the search right now. You on the other hand, get you god-damn shit together Jungkook. You’re the heir, not a damn lover-boy. Got it?”

It is no use of arguing with him. Jungkook looks down at the ground and nods his head yes just before Won-Shik dismisses him. It’s going to hurt. Seeing you dead. He hopes for a miracle can happen, that your father will not be the snitch. That you and him could live happily ever after. There will no be any happily ever after about this situation though. One will die. Just a matter of who it will be.

The vibrating sensation in his pocket snaps him out of his trance. An incoming call from Namjoon. It’s alarming since today is Namjoon’s day of hell, and only one thing could be happening right now if he’s calling for Jungkook.

There’s been a mistake.

“ What is it Namjoon.”

“ She fucking outsmarted me. The bitch caught on to where my location would be for the next kill. I don’t know where the fuck she is Jungkook.. this is bad.”

Jungkook sighs heavily, closing his eyes while letting out strings of curses come from his mouth. Shit couldn’t get possibly worse than this right now. Namjoon said he’d wanted to go straight for the killer and bust her up a bit. Give her some words and a branding on her. He had wanted to do it with a knife, carving the initals of Bangtan Boys into her upper hip. Namjoon had zero problem tracking her next location down, as he had been keeping an eye on her all day. To him, it seemed as if she would be heading to an orchestra shop in the city. Every step she took, Namjoon took it too.

Until she rounded the corner to go inside the shop and she wasn’t there. There wasn’t any outlet. The shop was on a dead end street surrounded by other shops that they both had passed. There was no way she didn’t go back, he would of saw it. He saw her go into the store, so she had to be there right?

Wrong. You see she knew all this time that Namjoon was followering her while in disguise. The orchestra shop where she led him to, she knew the owner. They were good friends. She had spoken to him asking if that she could use his upstairs office to read over some of the newest edition of music pieces for her to practice. He obliged, and she made up there in time before Namjoon came inside.

Up there, she’d be lying if she wasn’t scared to death. All this week the boys had definately given her hell. Each day with zero remorse. It was taking a toll on her for sure. Taking up this assignment by herself wasn’t something easy but she wanted to prove to him that she can be just like him. That she wanted to work with him too to take down Bangtan for decieving them and leaving them in the dust.

She can’t do it. The boys are to expierenced for her. It’s a bad mistake that she cannot come back from. You see, she thought it would be easy to befriend you and become close to you after you’d laid eyes upon Jungkook your first day here. She knew you’d soon fall for him, like any other girl did, and that would be her easy acess to him from you. It was all planned beforehand. To be quiet and observe you and your moves with him. In her mind, Jungkook needed to die first. The boys can’t function all that well without him, so that would be the weak spot to take advantage of if he would’ve died when she knew he’d take the bullet for you. She coudn’t shoot him first, it’d be too straightforward and blunt.

It was going all well. Deep in the inside she was jealous of you as well. Sungmin had been her crush for years, they even almost dated. Until you came along and he left her in the dust for you. Sungmin is everything she wanted in a boy, but you took that away from her. Her chances to date him ruined by you. It hurt everyday to see him head over heels in love with you, when that was just her at one point before you came along. Not only that, but she seen the way you play with Sungmin’s emotions. It made her upset that you do that. Sungmin’s love is a drug, whether it be friendship love or romantic, nobody can get enough of it.

All this stressed her out to her max. Her family being hurt because of her, her mom unable to walk for the next few weeks is all because of her. Only cause she cannot complete this task she brought onto herself. As if being in danger because of Won-Shik and Bangtan wasn’t enough beforehand, she just made things worse all in all. There is no way out of this for her and her family. So it’s time to just accept it and say goodbye to it all and start a new life.

“ I’ll find her. You wait at the base and I’ll report back to you guys after I find her. When I do, you will come and finish your damn task Namjoon. Do you hear me?” Jungkook’s beyond pissed at this point. If it wasn’t for him, the boys would be lost as fuck without him.

He shoots Casper a text, letting him know that he is to follow him closely as he searches for her. To his luck, Casper was already outside his apartment building in his car. Not long after he pops those contacts in and changes his outfit again, he’s cruising the streets of Seoul in his midnight purple lamborghini.

The pain in his shoulder throbs with each turn he has to make with the wheel of his car. A little pain medicine would of helped beforehand, but rushing to get this shit over with was more important. This bitch definately has it coming. It’s been taking Jungkook these past few days to not just up and kill her. No that would just be too easy. Torture and marinating her to lose her shit at the last minute is something so satisfying to him.

The streets of Seoul soon end behind him and the Mappo Bridge comes into view. It had been an a whole hour searching around the areas of where she could’ve been, including where she was last seen. No sights of her at all. She’s good at this for sure. Text messages are sent back and forth between the boys and Jungkook. They’re all on edge, tired, and frustrated at this chasing game that they’re all playing.

He’d almost missed it. The body walking alongside the side-walk of the bridge with their head hanging low and hoodie on. It’s the hoodie of his school, but most importantly it has their class graduation year on it. It has to be her. Jungkook flashes his hazard lights on, letting Casper know to pull over with him.

It’s now or never.

After sending the text to Namjoon, he’s out the car and jogging towards the suspect. Height, body type, and shoes match the alleged identity. It seems she’s too into something to notice the extra footsteps behind her. He can’t do anything to her though, it’s not his night.

“ Kang Minlee.”

She stops dead in her tracks as if a ghost had called her name. Frozen, she stands there contemplating on running or staying. If she runs, she’s dead. If she stays, shes dead.

“ You think..” He pauses, grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him. Her face is red from crying and her glasses all fogged up from underneath her mask. For a split second, Jungkook does feel regret.

Killing a classmate of his wasn’t something he’d ideally let happen. But it’s far too late to not have her killed off. “ You think that running away is the best option?”

Minlee trembles underneath his grip, “ I made a mistake. Please just let me go. Let me and my family go and we’ll leave you alone forever.” She breaks down into tears, placing her hand over his in attempt to let her go.

It didn’t hurt Jungkook to see her like this. All in all it just feels weird to him. Weird to have one of his classmates begging for her life to be spared from the gruesome events to come.

“ You know I can’t do that.” It honestly can’t be an option at this point. It’d be better to just continue out her days of hell with her family. “ You came for me, that means you die.”

Finally she jerks her arm back from his still in tears as she starts to back away slowly. Jungkook knew that she wouldn’t run. Not in this case. Letting her cry it out was the best way, hell it’s the only way because Namjoon would be here any minute to brand her. It would mean she belonged to Bangtan after that, and she’d have to keep quiet as they planned out her death.

Her sudden movement from the ground to climbing up the railing of the bridge alarms Jungkook. She cries louder when Jungkook comes closer to getting her down so he stops. Suicide? Right now? What happened to being all big and bold? It confuses Jungkook as to why she would take her own life right now. Either way she’d still end up dead and unhappy if Bangtan would kill her or she’d kill herself.

“ Jungkook!” She semi-yells, pointing to the direction behind him as another guy approaches them. Just in time, the sound of Namjoon’s car can be heard from afar. He’s getting close.

The guy she’s pointed to is Casper, who’s also alarmed at the fact that she’s close to the edge right now. Jungkook holds his hand up at Casper for him to stop right there and shakes his head, meaning that it’s too risky for Casper to step in right now. Casper nods and Jungkooks turns back to the scene.

“ Don’t you think that I’ve suffered enough? Everyday you guys give me hell. My mom can’t walk because of you guys, and my dad has health issues. You left us in the dust when we needed your support the most! I was almost put up for adoption a year ago because of you!” She sobs, wiping her never ending tears with her hoodie sleeves.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say, or do. It’s not like him to have sympathy over a rival. It’s just not in him at this very moment.

Minlee continues on, “ Yn? She took what’s mine. My Sungmin. She plays with his heart and it hurts him a lot. I wouldn’t have did that. But no, he’s head over heels in love with him. I got left in the dust when she came along and it looks like everyone loves her, including you Jungkook. My friendgroup does anything and everything she wants because she’s just oh so little miss perfect. That was supposed to be me!”

There it is. The jealousy. Jungkook would have never known it. It’s all news and shock to him. Sungmin and Minlee? Didn’t seem like a match to begin with.

Her dramatic meltdown continues on, but Jungkook allows it. Namjoon will be here any minute to sneakily get her down. Where is he and why the hell is he taking so long?

As if on cue, Namjoon pulls up to the scene and immediately gets out his car running towards the girl. Jungkook waves his hands for him to stop, eyes wide with a finger to his lips. The last thing he wanted was for the girl to jump. A death from their school? Surely was to be put on him and his boys.

Namjoon stops infront of Jungkook’s car, confused as to what’s going on. Jungkook mouthes to him the words suicide attempt. That’s when Namjoon gets it and decides to let him handle getting her down.

“ Yeah it was meant to be you. But I plan to take Yn away anyways. Then you and Sungmin could come together again.” Jungkook’s convincing isn’t convincing enough, she doesn’t buy it at all.

“ If I get down I’m going to die. There is no escaping that within the next few days i’d be dead in your hands. I made a mistake and there is no going back. Spare my parents. Let them live. I’m the one that started this. I’ll be the one to finish it.”

The girl lifts one foot off the railing and leans backwards. Jungkook’s breath hitches along with Namjoons. No. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“ Kang Minlee!” They both scream, running towards her. It’s too late though. Her body falls gracefully down as all three of them watch over the railing. She looks peaceful, a smile on her face while her body is sprawled out in the air.

Inches before she hits the water, the three of the boys look away with only the sound of dense water splashing to fill their ears. Namjoon sighs, putting his hands against his head. Jungkook stands there in complete shock. Casper, well Casper just shakes his head knowing the two boys weren’t prepared for that.

“ We fucked up Jungkook.”

“ I fucking know that Namjoon.” His voice cracks. It isn’t like Jungkook to cry. No not at all. Especially for a target like that. At the end of the day she was human and she did what any daughter would do for her family.

She was also your friend.

You hadn’t heard about her death yet the next day. It’s a normal saturday morning for you. This time you’d decided to go to the cafe with your laptop and write your essay for your Psychology class. The cafe is nice, it’s cat themed and has some pretty kittens running around the outside of the kitchen and customer service area.

As soon as you order and sit down with your Caramel frappe you spot a white kitten laying near you on the floor. A smile comes upon your face when it comes to you when you call for it. They don’t have these in Canada. Cat Cafes. The kitten lets out his purrs when you rub his back as he lays across your lap. The nametag says Mochi, a cute name for a cute kitten.

Minutes seem to pass by without your knowledge. You’d been too into typing to hear the news on the tv being broadcasted live. It wasn’t until you heard suicide of a teenage student on Mappo Bridge. That got your attention.

You listen carefully as the news reporter goes into detail of how the body was found. It had gotten caught on a rock as the stream moved it around. A mother had found it with her kid as they walked across the bridge that early morning to look at beautiful water. It saddens you to know someone took their life. Maybe if that person had access to getting help, they’d live to see many more days.

When they announce the name and show a school picture of the student, the look on your face drops.

Minlee. It’s Minlee on the screen. Its all too much for you right now. Your stomach twists and turns along with your hands that begin fidgeting. She seemed so healthy and happy these past few days when you saw her. It didn’t add up. It wasn’t going to ever add up to you that you had just lost one of your new friends.

Packing your things up in a hurry, your phone begins to go off with a bunch of text messages at a time. You know it could be the groupchat. What you wanted to the most right now, is to go home to cry and calm down. You shove everything in your backpack and place the kitten back on the floor nicely before taking off towards the door. You bump into somebody on the way out, causing them to drop a picture in their hand. The two of you both reach to pick it up, but they pick it up first before you.

“ I’m sorr-”

You’ve seen her before. Long curled hair, big dimple on her left cheek, and bangs.

There’s no fucking way.

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