#They are exes who have hate sex once a week

[mlarayoukai]

I don't ship Madeline and espresso cookie because I don't like Madeline because I don't like knight characters (including knight cookie and pistachio cookie). Also he's just a bit annoying and haughty to make me not like him

#I ship espresso and Latte but ironically #They are exes who have hate sex once a week #rob.txt

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

#suzsblinddatewritingchallenge #targaryenvampireslayer #suz's writing challenge #writing challenge #filthy impetuous souls #jen writes #prompted #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #curvy!reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan characters #protective!bucky barnes #sniper!reader #winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes imagines

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Lil blurb of mean Eddie and you. Minors shoo, mean Eddie, enemies with benefits.

You can tell Eddie is beside you even before you turn around. It was like clockwork every day with him.

He pulls you into a deep kiss and backs you up against the door of his van then pulls you inside. It's your spot. Somewhere that the two of you had been coming for weeks now.

After a while all that can be heard is your moans and Eddie's whispered words as the two of you lose yourself in one another.

Eddie scowls as a particular load moan issues from your mouth. "Keep your voice down, you want people to catch us fucking in here?" His tone is borderline harsh and you bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud again.

Once you're finished you lay with Eddie for a few seconds, hoping he stays for a little while. He doesn't, he gets dressed and you sigh and pull your clothes on too.

There's an ache in your heart that doesn't want to go away. Fuck. "You know we don't have to run off right away" you murmur.

Eddie scowls. "Id rather no one knows I'm fucking Hawkins princess. " he snaps and you ignore the sting in your chest at his words. Asshole.

"And you think I want people to know that I'm with Eddie the freak Munson, I'll pass" you snap back at him and a ghost of a smile traces his lips.

"The freak who makes you scream my name and whine for more, don't think your limp dick ex boyfriend makes you feel like this huh princess?"

No he didn't and you hate Eddie for bringing that up, you glare up at him. "Is that all you see me as? Just sex?" your heart races as you wait for his answer.

"What else would this be?" He replies coldly and the answer dashes the tiny hope you had that this could ever mean something.

"Right. Here's a suggestion Munson. Use your own hand tomorrow if you want any pleasure because you won't get it from me" you storm out and slam the door as you go.

There's no way you would let Munson see you cry.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x popular!reader #eddie munson

[aajjks]

FUCK! (III)

synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.

pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.

warnings. mâtürè thèmês, jèälöüs koo, dïrty thöughts, ëxplïcït jökès, yn ïs ä säd gïrlïe, sünshïnê koo, #nô fïltèr kôôk, hörny kóó, hè ïs öbsëssèd wïth yöur tïts.

disclaimer. this is purely fictional and this doesn’t represent bts’ jungkook irl. mature themes 18+ content ahead. mdni. ps. this jungkook thinks w his dick 👍

series masterlist.

note. hi, share feedback plz, send asks because they keep me really motivated <333 ENJOY! And I’m so sorry that I’m so late with the update. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the story and if you have, please reread because I know you’re going to enjoy this. Thank you so much.

Honestly, you’re really strong.

You’ve been having a lot of bad dates and stupid, awkward encounters with your ex, Kyungsoo.

But thankfully, who is there for you? Your dear Jungkook. Your roommate who has been with you for quite some time now and it’s safe to say that you’ve gotten a lot of used to his presence, and his stupid jokes.

It’s a new day and you feel a little less depressed as compared to the last week, the sun is out and you feel really hot— literally because the weather is getting warmer and warmer.

Jungkook is sitting on the couch watching football, he’s kind of obsessed with it and he’s always screaming at the screen like a maniac, “WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! YN DID YOU SEE THIS?”

Your ears hurt.

He’s probably talking about some goal that you’re not interested in, How can you be when you’re actually really concerned about your love life these days, you and kyungsoo broke up up quite some time ago and you’ve been struggling with dating.

You’re definitely over him, so what is the problem? You don’t know when that’s frustrating you.

“shut up- you’re too loud.” You snap, closing your eyes and frustration because it’s way too early in the morning, you are definitely a night owl, and he’s quite literally sunshine.

Jungkook eyes are focused on you now, “Woah you need to get laid- I’m volunteering if you care.” His stupid remark has you glaring at him and he just laughs it off, he winks at you in return. And just after that he has started to shamelessly stare at your chest.

He’s not wrong- you do need to get laid.

And Yeah, you’re wearing a top so what? It’s really hot.

“you’re so hot.” Jungkook breathes out. You can see his eyes, and his pupils are quite bright. He’s got pretty eyes. He’s really pretty. Not that you would say that to his face because he will eat your brain that you complimented him and that you want to fuck him.

You don’t.

Well, you’re not sure.

“I know tell me something I don’t know, and stop staring at my tits- they don’t talk.” You scold him, but his gaze just doesn’t budge, you’re so used to him that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

You just roll your eyes at him. “Bet I can make them..” Your gaze hardens and you pick up a pillow from your couch and hit him with it.

He’s so shameless.

Jungkook pretends to be hurt, whining that you hit him hard. What a manchild, “quit it Jeon.” You warn him and he smirks. “And if I don’t? You’re going to punish me?! Please do.” He begs.

You scoff in disgust, but just then you get an idea- you’re going to mess with him. It’s your turn to smirk as you look at him in the eyes once again. “you’re walking on thin ice and you say that you want me to give you a chance, but… not sure if I should because you are a creep.” You shrug and it’s so satisfying the way his expressions change from smug to anxious.

You got him.

VICTORY.

“what are you talking about? I’m not a creep. And I…I please give me one chance all right I’ll stop my remarks.” he is struggling like an idiot. It’s is really nice to be in control.

“respectfully you just have nice breasts.” he shrugs, but you can tell he’s still panicking about what you just said. He ain’t wrong though you got nice breasts but it’s not nice to stare at them.

“Shut up- THIN ICE.”

You warn him, and he puts a finger on his mouth- his doe eyes are literally so panicky, “ugh I have work..” you whine- and Jungkook has started to focus on the game once again, “hey?! You have work too!!!? get up!”

“Yeah no. I won’t get scolded if I’m a little late because my boss kind of likes me.” He laughs.

What a fuckboy.

“you fuck your boss?!!” You know that’s not what he said or implied but you’re so curious, “uh no? Yn you’re mean!” he looks back at you acting so offended.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

You get up before he can even give you a reaction because you know he’s gonna freak out and your prediction is confirmed when you can hear him screaming like an idiot.

You smile as you go back to your room to get ready for work, it wouldn’t be a mistake to give him a chance because he obviously likes you and— he’s been asking you out forever, so why not?

But you’re not sure if you are gonna work out as a couple because he’s too much sometimes, But you’re still going to give him one chance to prove himself.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.”

You giggle as you shut the door behind you.

Sure.

He’s still having those wet dreams about you, it’s a struggle for him and he’s concerned because he’s never felt this way for anyone, and it’s just not the wet dreams.

His feelings for you are the main problem.

He annoys the fuck out of you and your both sitting in the couch, he’s pretending to watch football, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re right next to him smelling like a goddess, and that top of yours?

It’s torture.

Jungkook gets distracted for a minute when his favorite team scores a goal and he screams, he knows that you get annoyed with him and he does that but it’s so fun to get these reactions out of you.

He loves it when you tell him to shut up. And yeah it’s not your fault that you’re so hot because it’s really warm, you just have to make everything look so good.

He looks at you for a minute, and then his gaze just automatically goes to your chest.

You are quite magnificent.

“You’re so hot.” he can’t help but compliment you when you just shrugged and say that you know.

Your confidence is so hot, Jungkook tries his best to be subtle with his lust and attraction towards you, but sometimes it’s just impossible for his tongue to not slip.

He says some things that get you angry.

You hit him with a couch pillow, and he Reacts dramatically, he was just kidding about that one joke. “Ugh.” He whines.

And just like that you guys banter for a while, that isn’t until he fucks it up a little bit more, and you warn him

No, he cannot lose his chance with you.

“I…I please give me one chance. All right, I’ll stop with my remarks.” He is so stupid. Why can’t he keep his hormones and tongue in check?

He doesn’t want you to think that it’s only because he’s physically attracted to you, it’s more than that, yeah, he dreams about fucking you but he also dreams about being with you forever.

That’s how much he likes you.

So please just give him one chance— he thinks to himself when you bring up work and he knows that yeah he has to go to work, but his boss is quite lenient and the pay is really good.

He is watching the game once again when you accuse him of fucking his boss, he does not do that— Jungkook feels a little bad, because that’s all you think of him?

“uh no I don’t- Yn you’re mean!” he looks at you and this time your breasts don’t distract him, he wants you to think of him as a man that is of commitment, but he has a lot to prove.

He has really fucked up his chances—? He feels his heart break as negative thoughts consume him, and he cannot even log into your eyes anymore.

You get up, probably get ready for work because you take everything in your life or seriously and you’re Punctual.

You’re so perfect for him

But maybe it looks like he’s not perfect for you. And that sucks, Should he just give up on you? He’s not sure.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

Did he just hear you right? Did you really just say you don’t give him a chance? And then he can take you out on a date

He tilts his head so fast, absolutely freaked out, his eyes are white, and his mouth is agape,

He’s not being delusional right now, is he?

“Y-Yn what did you just say?

He stutters out because he really cannot believe what you just said right now, have you hit your head or something because he’s asked you the same question for the past year but you have denied him, so why the sudden change?

He feels so happy right now- jungkook gets up from the couch and goes after you, but before he can catch you, so we can confirm what he just heard you giggle.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.” Before you can actually shut the door he says it out loud.

and you shut the door behind you.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeongguk smut #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[semisgroupie]

oct 3rd: gojo satoru

gojo satoru x fem. reader

wc: 3.3k

warnings: yandere, size kink, stalking, creepy satoru, public sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms (f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight dumbification, satoru is OBSESSED with you, photo taking, hints at violence, bribery, breaking and entering, panty stealing, mention of naoya x fem. reader but it’s very brief

synopsis: having a one night stand with who you think is some random guy in the club might not always be the best idea

Breakups were tough, you absolutely hated them but what you hated most was the numb feeling you felt the weeks following the breakup.

The numbness that would just consume you and leave you walking around like an empty carcass until you found something to fill you. That something always was a night filled with alcohol and sweaty dancing then ended with a quick fuck from the hottest guy you could find at the club. It was something that you’ve gotten used to especially with your most recent ex, dealing with three breakups before you two officially decided that this breakup would be the last time. You definitely needed to find a new way to cope with breakups but until you could find a new method, this one would work just fine.

You shimmied yourself in a new skin tight dress you bought just for tonight and grabbed your clutch purse and made your way out the door. There was a new nightclub that opened up a couple streets from your apartment and it would be a new scene for you, maybe even a new beginning but you weren’t hoping for that much.

You maneuvered your way through the sweaty and drunk bodies that were pressed against each other on the dance floor, pushing away any creeps that tried to cop a feel. When you finally made it to the bar you let out an exaggeratedly loud sigh before ordering your drink. Once you had the martini glass in hand you turned to look at everyone, trying to scout out who you’d let take you home tonight. Before you could really look through the crowd someone immediately caught your eye. He was moving through the crowd, his white hair and beautiful eyes were like pristine crystal orbs, just captivating you as he moved closer and closer. The closer he got the bigger he became too.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he moved to stand next to you, making you look so small next to him. He ordered his drink and you had to fight the urge to press your thighs together and whimper. God, what wasn’t attractive about him? His voice had a deep timbre with the perfect rasp, he even smelled good too, slightly sweet with a tinge of spice.

As he turned slightly you immediately shifted your gaze away from him, not wanting to get caught staring at him like he’s the first man you’ve ever seen.

“You know it’s rude to stare at someone right?” He leaned down to whisper by your ear, hints of mint mixed with alcohol in his breath. Your cheeks burned as if you had a million sun rays inside them. You took a sip of your drink to try to calm down before turning to him.

“Maybe you’ve had a few too many drinks, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He laughed and shook his head, it was the poorest retort you’ve ever come up with and he obviously saw right through it.

“Yeah sure, I’m Satoru by the way.” He stuck his hand out and your eyes widened as you placed your hand in his, if he decided to close his fist your hand would no longer be visible. He took your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles before releasing your hand. “And your name?”

“Y/N.”

He smiled and nodded, “beautiful name for the most beautiful woman I’ve seen.” The comment was one of the corniest ones you’ve heard in your adult life but it still caused the blood to rush to your cheeks. Hearing a compliment like that from an Adonis like him no matter how cheesy it was, would fluster you.

The rest of the night was spent with you two drinking at the bar, dancing and led you two to the position where you two were now, against one of the few empty spaces of one of the walls in the club making out. His lips were soft and you could taste the liquor he had off his tongue. His large hands pinned your hips against his, rocking you against him hard enough for you to feel how his cock twitched. To say you were getting wet was an understatement, you were practically dripping down your thighs at this point. Your mind was clouded with lust and you had half a mind to just pull him into one of the bathrooms to finally get what you wanted most. But, you had some class so bathroom sex was off the table unless he initiated it.

He broke the kiss and leaned down to your ear, slightly panting which made your arousal pool even more. “How about we get out of here and head to my place? It’s a couple minute walk, if you could wait that long.” You could hear the smirk grow on his lips before he pulled away so you could see it for yourself.

“Lead the way.” You shouted over the music and he took your hand in his and made his way to the exit. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your clit was throbbing. You needed him badly and by the way he was practically pushing his way through the crowd, he needed you just as badly. You let out a small sigh once the fresh air hit your face, hopefully that would be able to cool your overheated body off. You glanced over at Satoru, finally seeing him in better lighting and your heart started pounding faster. He was insanely attractive, perfectly chiseled and you couldn’t doubt that he worked out with the way his shirt clung to his muscles. He glanced back at you, the smirk still on his face. “What did I tell you about staring, darling? Or do I have to teach you some manners?”

A small whimper left your lips and you broke your gaze, transfixing it to your shoes as you continued walking with him. “S-sorry.” A meek apology was all that could leave you until you two reached his building. It was a luxury building and your eyes widened at the sight of it. He led you inside and walked past the security desk to the elevators. “This is a really beautiful building, the rent must be really expensive.”

He chuckles and shrugs as he presses the button to the elevator. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Your eyes widened a bit, this place was extremely expensive, you couldn’t even afford to live in the storage closet with the salary you made. You wanted to ask about his work but all thoughts were brushed aside when the elevator came and he led you inside. Once the door closed he swiped his key card, pressed the button to the top floor, pinned you against the wall and kissed you deeply, almost bruising as his tongue explored your mouth. His fingers slid up your thigh and grazed the hem of your dress before moving up higher to drag his finger along your clothed slit. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me already. Do you always get this wet when a stranger kisses you?” He kissed you again before you could even answer and pulled your panties to the side so he could slip two fingers inside you.

Only if you could really comprehend the falsity in just the word stranger. He was by no means a stranger and you weren’t one to him, he knew who you were for almost a year now but you never met him formally. He has been waiting for the right moment to strike but you always got distracted by some random drunk at the club or your incompetent boyfriend. Only if your guard wasn’t always down when you were out and about, then you would’ve recognized him from the chill that would run down your spine when you were out with your best friend or running around doing errands. He couldn’t forget the first time he saw you, he was new to the neighborhood and was dragged to one of the most popular clubs in the neighborhood by one of his friends, he didn’t want to go but the second he saw you walk through the crowd and thoughts of leaving quickly flew out the window. He was instantly enamored by you but just as quickly as you walked past him, you walked out clinging onto the arm of some random guy.

His blood boiled at the sight, no guy deserved to be in your presence, let alone touch you. So, he went out to follow you and the guy, he kept a reasonable distance between you two and that was when he learned where you lived. The following weeks he learned your frequent spots, where you worked and your routine. Still you were clueless to the eyes on you, the footsteps that followed yours every corner you turned. There were some moments when you felt you were being watched so when you turned around with your keys in hand to see nothing, you just continued on your way. Little did you know he just turned to hide in between some buildings or crouched his large frame behind some garbage cans.

He also learned about your boyfriend, Naoya or nincompoop, same thing to him. The guy was a massive asshole but no matter what he did to you, you always came running back to him so Satoru decided to end your relationship for good. It was easy, just a threat and a little bribe and that was it. But he did feel guilty when he saw the breakup go down, you looked so hurt, so broken and he wanted nothing more than to go to you and put the pieces of your broken heart back together. But he couldn’t, just not yet. He still had some business to handle before he could swoop in and be your superman. After dealing with your past one night stands and your now ex boyfriend he had to get himself ready for you. The main thing was to get rid of all the pictures he took of you and get rid of any clothes stained with the blood of said past one night stands and your ex boyfriend, they weren’t too injured but they knew not to go near you ever again and knew not to go to the police.

Call him old fashioned but he had some polaroid pictures of you stored in his bedside drawer along with some panties he snagged from your apartment. He needed to warn you about leaving your spare key in such an obvious place but that was a problem for another day. He’s had this day planned for months and now he could finally execute it, he knew after one night with him he could snag you in his trap to make sure you were his and only his and if that wasn’t enough to convince you then he had his methods but he was sure his plan would work. It was foolproof.

His fingers pumped inside you at a leisurely pace while you whimpered and moaned against his lips. He wanted to take you right then and there but just as he moved his hand to undo his belt the elevator stopped at the top floor. The doors opened to reveal his penthouse apartment. He slipped his fingers out of you and moved his hands to the backs of your thighs, “jump.” You hooked your arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist as you met his lips again. He walked inside and kissed you back deeply. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as he ground your hips against his. He moved back slightly, panting against your lips, “where do you want me to fuck you? Or should I choose?”

You could barely think, let alone make a decision, “you choose, I just need you to fuck me.” He chuckled and crashed his lips back against yours as he made his way to the balcony. Why not make your first time with him memorable? Plus, he had it planned anyway. He walked out with you and dropped you onto the couch, he moved between your legs and hiked your dress up ‘accidentally’ ripping it in the process then moved down to your panties, ripping those off you and tossing them to the side. He had more for you tucked away in a special drawer anyways. Once they hit the ground he spread your legs and dropped his head down, latching onto your clit and sucking harshly. Your eyes widened and a gasp of his name left your lips. He ravaged you like a man starved and you were in complete euphoria. His mouth licked all over where you needed him most and before you knew it you were crying out his name as your orgasm washed over you but he didn’t stop. His tongue kept running over your folds, cleaning any traces of your orgasm off of you as he moved to rip another one right out of you.

You moved your hands down to try to push his head away, it was pleasurable but it was too much for you in one sitting. “S-Satoru please, fuck I’m too sensitive.” He pulled off and placed his palm over your cunt, gently rubbing into it. His lips, cheeks and chin were soaked in your juices, his pink tongue poked out to clean his lips and he chuckled. “Sorry beautiful but I haven’t had enough. Just let me do as I please and then I’ll fuck you. All you need to do is feel good for me, okay?” He moved his hand away and kitten licked your clit before pressing a kiss to it. “Okay.” You couldn’t deny him and you couldn’t deny yourself, he was someone you needed to fill the void during a time like this. Someone who could make your mind turn to mush and make you forget about everything in the world.

After two more orgasms you couldn’t even think of anything but his name. If it wasn’t for him spelling his name out on your cunt then you probably would’ve forgotten that too. He pulled away from your swollen cunt and moved to undo his pants, he quickly got rid of them and his boxers, showing you his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, even in your already fucked out state you couldn’t deny that his cock was one of the biggest you’ve seen in a long time. Hell, it was probably the biggest you’ve had.

His tongue clicking against his teeth pulled you out of your trance and you looked up to meet his eyes, now darkened with lust. “And here I thought I warned you enough about staring. It’s not a polite thing to do but I’ll let it slide for now.” He dropped down a bit and hooked your legs around his waist with one hand while the other hooked around the deep neckline of your dress and yanked it down, the thin spaghetti straps snapping from the sheer force. “Oops, didn’t realize how strong I was.” He winked at you and before you could wrack your brain around a possible response he slammed his cock into you. The stretch alone making you cum around his cock, making this your fourth orgasm of the night. “Hm, how many was that now? Three? No, it was four. Hm, I’ll make you six times before I fill you with my cum.”

Without warning he snapped his hips into yours and started pounding into you. You couldn’t even question whether he meant that he was going to make you cum two more times to make it six or if he was going to make you cum six more times on his cock but you prayed to whatever god out there that it was the former, you didn’t know if you could handle ten orgasms. Your ex would only bring you to two orgasms before it was over and when you were alone the most you could bring yourself to was three, maybe four on a good day before you were out of it. But with the way the night was going, you began to think that it would be the latter rather than the former and as his hips continued drilling into yours. After each orgasm he pulled you into different positions, on all fours, on top, in a full nelson so you could see his cock drilling into you, he bent you over the couch and bent you in half in a piledriver so you could feel him even deeper before he lifted you and made you hold onto the railing of the balcony as he pounded into you. You could barely hold yourself and your throat was growing hoarse from all the screaming you’ve been doing.

His hand snaked around your hip and went down to rub your swollen clit, “just cum for me once more, you can do it for me baby.” Your legs shook and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you then you’re sure you would’ve fell, “Satoru! Satoru fuck!” He groaned and continued thrusting into you, “cry my name out louder, let everyone in this fucking town know who’s making you feel like this. Cry it louder.” He snapped his hips into yours harder, each time you screamed out his name. He needed to hold himself back just a little more, just one more orgasm for you and then he’ll fill you up. He could finally mark you as his, finally keep you as his. He wouldn’t need to fight anyone off, he wouldn’t need to resort to any desperate measures to keep guys away from you. He wouldn’t need to bribe the police and doctors to keep the random attacks hidden from the public. All his work wouldn’t be for nothing, he’ll finally have you.

He’ll finally have you.

It took a few more thrusts for you to cum all over his cock which instantly triggered his own orgasm. He dropped his head down and bit down on your neck as his hips continued moving, thrusting all his cum inside you. His arms moved up and wrapped around you tightly when your grip on the railing finally let up. “I got you. I got you.” He pulled out and scooped you into his arms, you were limp in his hold but still had a fucked out smile on your face. He leaned down to kiss you, whether you reciprocated it now meant nothing, the first time your lips met sealed your fate. There was no escape now, you were his and his alone.

“S-Satoru?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he walked back inside the penthouse to his bedroom. “Yes beautiful?”

“Where have you been all my life? If I met you sooner so much would be different.” He didn’t know what caused those words to fall from your lips, maybe it was all the orgasms and the booze, maybe you actually meant it but it still made his heart swirl in his chest.

“I’ve been around all the time, you just didn’t notice me.” He set you down on his bed and removed the rest of your dress in exchange for one of his shirts. God you looked so beautiful, one picture wouldn’t hurt. Instead of his handy disposable, he took out his phone and snapped a few pictures of you. He changed into pajama pants and laid down behind you, pulling you to his chest. “All mine, you’re all mine now.” This was the start of your forever with Satoru, you wouldn’t need anyone or anything else but him and he’ll make sure of it.

He’ll do anything for you, love knows no bounds and neither does he. Maybe he’ll have to dig back in his bribery stash but that wasn’t important now, now he had you and that was all he needed and it would be all you need.

taglist:@xiao-tings @rubikenss @blueparadis @dangerouspursepeachbear @bubblepopneurotic-blog @brivetaroundtown @sweetenertea @senjuasuna @caramelcandescence @dmwednesday @cherrykamado @thefutureastronaut @asherheed @vharunabi @rzcz

#kinktober 2022 #semisgroupie kinktober #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk gojo smut #tw:size kink #tw:yandere #tw:overstimulation #tw:creampie #tw:unprotected sex #tw:stalking #tw:public sex #tw:dumbification

[yoon-kooks]

paired & pierced | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with Jeon Jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. If you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.

⛓️word count: 5.3k

⛓️warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected rough sex, daddy kink, good girl kink, she's tight, he's big, fingering, mutual masturbation, begging, edging, orgasm denial, cumshot, dick tattoo, not the soft jjk i usually write

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this is a request from @screamertannie !💖 im not used to writing dom/sub stuff but i tried!! paired & puppy-eyed is jungkook's pov✨

It’s become somewhat of a pre-class ritual for the gals to gather around your desk to discuss anything from the latest frat party hookups to guessing the lengths of your male classmates. The gossip doesn’t particularly interest you, and you’ve never once contributed to the cock talk. But who are you to tell them to leave you alone? If people naturally gravitate toward you, you should see it as a good thing.

“I heard that hottie Tim is single again,” Blue Hair Girl says, turning to you with the curious eyes of a true gossiper. “Y/N, you were hanging out with him at that party last weekend, weren’t you? Is he as big as they say?”

“Didn’t see it.” And you’re glad you didn’t. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt when he approached you, but he kept pulling you in for PDA conveniently when his ex was in sight. He was clearly using you for something you want no part of. In the end, you let him off easy by saying you had to leave early to feed your fish (you don’t have any fucking fish).

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Blue Hair Girl and the others give you a few pouty frowns.

“Yep.” Not really.

“Well, speaking of hotties, I’ve been trying to get Hoseok’s attention for a week now,” Nose Ring Girl sighs. She suddenly grasps your hands and pleads, “Wait, Y/N, you’re friends with him, right? Think you can give me his number?”

You wouldn’t call Hoseok a “friend”—he’s more of an acquaintance you happen to be friendly with, much like everyone sitting around you. But you do have his number. You have a lot of people’s numbers on your phone even though you can’t match any of their names to their faces.

“Here.” You flash your phone screen with Hoseok’s contact info before Nose Ring Girl. Her eyes light up like fireworks.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! You’re the best!” she squeals.

Toward the end of class, your professor announces something that makes your stomach turn.

“The midterm will be a partner project where you have to debug the code I assign to you and add on to it in a creative way,” she explains. “And because I’m nice, I’ll let everyone choose their own partners. Please let me know who you’ll be working with before taking off.”

You hate this. You’re surprisingly okay about the debugging part because the masochist in you kind of enjoys it, but you’re not okay with the partner part. When it comes to choosing partners, it never ends well for you. Because despite how many people you surround yourself with, you always struggle to find someone who chooses you before anyone else. 

You’re no one’s number one.

This time is no different. The girls who were so happy to be gossiping at your desk an hour ago are partnering up with one another on the other side of the room. Among them, Nose Ring Girl doesn’t appear to have coupled up yet, so she might be your only shot. Besides, you did her a favor earlier by giving her Hoseok’s number. The least she can do is partner up with you.

“Y/N, guess what?” She skips over to your desk with a big fat smile on her face. “I just texted Hoseok, and he asked to partner up with me. It’s all thanks to you, babe!”

“Oh, cool.” You try not to sound so disheartened.

She gives you a quick hug before heading back to the boy you indirectly set her up with. You’re happy for her, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck. Whether intentional or not, it feels like everyone who comes near you just wants something from you—love advice, a boy’s number, PDA to make their ex jealous, or even answers to the homework—which is fine to an extent. The problem is that people keep taking, and you’re tired of not even getting the bare minimum in return.

To top it all off, Big Tim is headed your way. Yes, you want a partner. No, it’s not going to be him. You’ll pick literally anyone else in the class over him. The question is: who else doesn’t have a partner yet? People are paired up left and right. 

Except for maybe the boy sleeping in the seat right next to you.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed half-hurried voice. The boy doesn’t move an inch. Maybe he’s dead.

You hop out of your chair, stand in front of his desk, and tap on the wooden surface in front of his face. Still no response.

Aware that Big Tim is inching his way closer, you crouch down to hide as if that’ll buy you more time. The boy in front of you needs to wake up right now.

You reach toward his slumped-over body and peel off his hood. There’s a good chance he isn’t dead and just didn’t hear you because he had earbuds in or something. You hope.

No earbuds. But you do find something worth noting—a trail of empty piercing holes up his earlobe. You don’t know Jungkook all that well, but he’s been in a bunch of your comp sci classes and you’ve never seen any piercings on him. You’d remember something like that because you’re a huge sucker for boys covered in piercings and body art. All you remember is that he’s quiet and always gets the highest grades on exams because he’s a genius or whatever.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whisper into his ear and tap one of his fingers. A sleepy eye finally peeks at you. Thank god he isn’t dead. “Wanna be partners?”

He sits up slowly, adjusts his glasses, and looks around the classroom before turning back to your puppy eyes. “Sure, I guess.”

“Good, good,” you sing, scurrying back to your seat. Partner secured. Mission accomplished. Just in the nick of time.

“Y/N, still looking for a partner?” Big Tim asks at your desk.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry.” You give an apologetic smile. You really need to stop that. If you had just been brutally honest with him the other day at the party, he wouldn’t be here bugging you now.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” He points a finger at “that kid” who appears to have gone back to sleep.

You nod even though you were the one who technically asked Jungkook.

“And you said yes?”

You nod again. Big Tim continues to stare as if he’s waiting for you to abandon Jungkook for him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole in the first place, you wouldn't be actively avoiding him like the plague. He had his chance.

After several awkward seconds, he finally backs off and Jungkook rises from the dead once more.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you,” Jungkook yawns as he fluffs his bedhead around. He looks so nice and toasty in that hoodie. No wonder why he falls asleep in class so easily.

“That’s not what he wanted.” He wanted to use you to hurt someone else. And you don’t want to be taken advantage of anymore.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” That’s just the illusion you’ve created. It feels so fake.

You shake your head. “Let’s just say, if a house were on fire and these people had a choice to save either me or one of their actual friends, I’d burn down with the house 10/10 times.”

“And who would you save?” he challenges you. That’s an easy question.

“No one.”

“Good answer.” The edge of his lips curves upward ever so slightly. “Alright, if it’s cool with you, I’ll just do the project myself and slap your name on it. Shouldn’t take me longer than an hour.”

“Wait, I wanna contribute too, you know,” you argue. He might be a smartypants, but you’re not the type of person to slack off and make him do all the work. You wouldn’t be surprised if other people take advantage of him on group projects like this. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t even bother with fake social interactions with peers the way you do. You admire him for that. “We should meet up and work on it together over the weekend.”

“I’m busy,” he says. Bullshit. You can tell when people make up excuses to get out of things because you’re guilty of it too. The difference is that Jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat it with coverup stories like needing to feed your nonexistent fish. Why do you find that so attractive?

“Busy with what?” You flutter your eyelashes and challenge him the way he challenged you. The fact that you’re fighting over the right to help with the project is both silly and refreshing. Usually, it’s the opposite where you’re forced to plead with your group to pull their own weight. But here you are, practically begging the boy to let you do some coding with him. Him pushing you away is a huge turn-on.

“My newborn.” He says it with such a straight face that you take his word for it.

“You have a child?” Your eyes sparkle. That either makes him a young single dilf or a committed family man you probably shouldn’t be batting your eyes at. For everyone’s sake, you hope it’s the former. “If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?”

For a long while, he just blinks at you like you’ve said something horribly wrong. Oh no. Maybe he’s still with the kid’s mom and now he thinks you’re trying to invade their space and be some kind of homewrecker.

“I was just fucking with you…” he admits. Why does it feel like he has secondhand embarrassment from your gullible ass? It’s fine, though. You much prefer being gullible over the homewrecker angle. Then he inputs his number and address into your phone. “But if it makes you feel better, come babysit my kid tomorrow.”

The next day, you wake up a little earlier, dress a little cuter, and feel a little more excited than usual. You’re usually indifferent (if not stressed) about hangouts and parties, but Jungkook is different. It’s fun talking to him, and you don’t have to put on a fake smile around him. He’s even got that hot grumpy boy vibe that you’re determined to win over.

After knocking on his door, you wait for a good minute but there’s no response. Maybe he’s still asleep or butt-naked in the shower. You would’ve messaged him that you were on the way, but you were scared he might have second thoughts and cancel the meetup altogether. You’ve lost count of how many times that’s happened to you in your college career.

Just as you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open. The boy who stands before you has a full sleeve of tattoos, too many piercings to count, a whole man bun, and a handsome face that looks exactly like Jeon Jungkook’s. You didn’t know he had an identical twin with a totally different style. If he wore glasses with a hoodie and took the man bun and piercings out, he’d literally be your quiet neighbor from coding class. It’s fascinating.

“Isn’t it common courtesy to give someone a heads-up before showing up at their door?” he says with his phone in hand. Same grouchy attitude though. You love it.

Wait. You suddenly remember all those mysterious piercing holes you discovered on Jungkook’s ear less than 24 hours ago.

“Why do you look like that?” You point a finger at him as if your question isn’t already rude enough. Maybe you should rephrase it. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

“Maybe.” He lets you into his home, but you’re more concerned about all the sick art on his arm. If he ever rolled up his sleeves in class, you know you’d be too distracted to focus on the lecture. Perhaps that’s why he keeps it all hidden. He’s just looking out for you and your higher education. Yeah right.

“Why do you hide all of this at school?” You’re sure everyone would be coming to you for his number if they knew what he was hiding up his sleeve.

“Tattoos and piercings give people something to talk about,” he explains. “And I’m not really a fan of compliments or small talk.”

Oh. He’s aware of the physical and emotional impact his body art would have on anyone lucky enough to see it with their own eyes. Your poor body is already aching to see more.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” Or about how hot you find his lip piercing. You’ve always wanted to kiss someone with a lip ring. You’re feeling pouty all of a sudden so you bring out the puppy eyes again.

He studies the way you shamelessly work your charm on him, and you wonder if he picks up on the temptation in your pupils. “I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment,” he huffs, finally giving in.

You’re quick to wrap your eager paws around his arm and examine it like it’s your most prized possession. The problem is, he has way too many tatts and piercings to fit into a single compliment. You could write a whole essay expressing your love for each piece you see, and that doesn’t even include the ones still buried beneath his clothes.

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” Funny how he’s acting all impatient and bothered by the “fondling” but doesn’t shrug you off of him. In fact, he was the one who lent you his arm in the first place!

“I wish I could see all of them.” That’s your compliment. Because you love the lusting implications behind it.

You flick your eyes up from his arm to his face, and sure enough, he’s got his eye on you as well. It’s almost a crime that it took this long for the two of you to come together like this. You’ve been neighbors in coding class for the past few weeks, and yet you were too busy with the popular crowd and he was too busy not giving a fuck about them. All you want to do now is make up for lost time.

The only thing that distracts you from the boy is a puffy tail minding its own business in the corner of your eye. When you look down, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the tiniest fluffball dropping a mouse toy at your feet.

“Ooh kitty,” you squeal as you squat down to play with the pink-nosed darling. It’s so tiny it fits in the palm of your hand, and its meows sound more like squeaks. “Wait, is this the newborn you were talking about?”

Jungkook nods. “I found her about a week ago and she’s been a menace ever since. Especially in the middle of the night.”

“Is that why you’ve been falling asleep in class lately?” You like the thought of him scolding the kitten for zooming around at 4AM only to fall back asleep with her on his chest. You’ll take a cat dilf any day.

“Yeah. But it also doesn’t help that the professor never says anything important.” He picks up the mouse toy and drops it off with her stash of goodies including a pink bed, a pink blanket, and a pink bunny plushie. The kitten hops into the bed, cuddles up with her bunny, and has the boy cover her up with the blanket. What a spoiled little thing. “So what’s this project about again?”

“You’d know if you were listening!” Gosh, you can’t stand smart people who sleep through every lecture and still come out on top while you’re taking notes and working your ass off. You still want to fuck him though.

“I’m just fucking with you again.” He finally cracks a whole ass smile and it’s beautiful. You’re mesmerized by it as he scoots you over to the computer in his room. “I already finished it, by the way.”

So much for fulfilling your dreams of coding with an exceptionally handsome boy. With a dramatic sigh of disappointment, you run the program on his screen.

As expected, it runs smoothly, free of any bugs. He even threw in an interactive portion with a sleeping kitty. Total cat dad vibes. It’s great, and there’s really no need for you to tamper with the work he’s done. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of being the one to carry you on this project. Besides, you have an idea of how you can spice up the program and expand on the kitty part.

You spend a good amount of time going through the code line-by-line and inserting small bits here and there. Once you get to the kitty part, you add in a function to wake up the cat and have it start dancing around to a few different songs from your favorite kpop group. When it’s all set, you run it back, earn Jungkook’s stamp of approval, and submit it for your professor to grade.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd.” He leans on the chair over your shoulder. You’d correct him on Big Tim’s name, but you’re too focused on the way he looks at you with such gorgeous dark eyes.

“If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd,” you fire back. This is the kind of banter that results from putting two smartasses and an immense amount of sexual tension in the same room together. You want more of it.

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him,” he says rather casually. “Doubt you would be either, judging by that game of dodgeball you were playing yesterday.”

“Well yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.” You shudder at the thought of almost being stuck as Big Tim’s partner. It’s thanks to Jungkook that you escaped that fate. 

“Why do you hang out with those people anyway?” He spins your chair around to face outward and lays himself down on his bed next to the kitten who just woke up from her nap. She’s cleaning her paws like a good girl.

“I know I have a lot of shallow connections, but I figure if I surround myself with enough people, I’ll eventually have to run into someone I genuinely like, right?” You hop out of the chair, sit your ass on the edge of the bed, and convince yourself it’s to play with the kitty. She jumps down right away to catch a fly but you don’t chase after her.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, gazing up at the ceiling like it’s the night sky. What did you ever do to deserve seeing this handsome boy and his tattoos all laid out on the bed like this? You’d do it a million more times.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in,” you hum.

“I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it?” he laughs. Why is “Jim” the one name this guy knows from your class? “You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” You shimmy your ass closer to him and block his scenic view of the ceiling with your face. Now it’s you he’s gazing up at. You’re free to admire the tempting ring around his soft lip, the glimmering piercing through his brow, and all his beautiful features that have drawn you to him. You look him in the eye and lie because you know he already knows the truth. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

“Really?” All of a sudden, he pulls your body down against the mattress and climbs on top of you. One hand holds your wrists above your head while the other caresses your cheek. He leans in close but stops half a centimeter from your lips. “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You were begging to work on this project with me yesterday, fondling my arm as soon as you got here, practically eyefucking me a minute ago,” he pauses as his hand unzips your jeans and presses into the folds between your legs. “And you’re pretty wet for me right now.”

You want to lunge at him and devour his lips to prove how right he is, but your arms are still being held captive. He smirks at your failed attempt to bite him. For now, you have to settle for squeezing your thighs against his hand to get the tiniest bit of stimulation. 

“So if it’s not me, who’s this boy you’re interested in?” he whispers into your ear as you feel his hand slipping out from your pleasure spot. “I won’t continue until I get an answer.”

It’d be kinda badass if you had the willpower to keep your lips sealed for at least a minute, but you give in after 0.3 seconds. You never had a fighting chance anyway. “It’s you, Jungkook.”

He smashes his lips against yours, his tongue practically down your throat when he says, “Good girl.”

The ring around his lower lip is cold to the touch, but you keep going in for more. You love the way he tastes—like sweet alcohol that encourages you to keep indulging in the high. He’s so addicting.

At the same time, he helps you kick off your jeans and slides his whole hand back into your panties. He swirls his fingers around, coating them in your lust before rubbing over your clit. The jolt of pleasure draws a soft moan from your mouth and gets your body nice and hot. Normally, you’d be eager to get your hands back to join in on the fun, but the boy somehow knows exactly how you like being touched and toyed with. Plus, you kinda like the idea of being so helpless beneath him.

Eventually, your panties come off, followed by your shirt and his. You get the perfect view of his full sleeve as well as the big shark tattoo on his ribs. If you weren’t so horny, you’d drop everything to analyze each piece in depth. But right now, all your weak mind can handle is admiring the shark.

As soon as he lets your wrists breathe, you run your fingers along his ribs, tracing the tattoo from head to tail. The lines are so smooth and pretty. He has great taste in art and apex predators. You’ll have to ask him for the artist later so you can get yourself a baby shark at your hip.

“Got any others I should know of?” you ask with two paws ready to tear his black jeans off of him. 

“Just one.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck and sucks hard to mark you as his. You can’t wait for Big Tim to see it on Monday. “You’re gonna have to earn it, though.”

You’ll do anything to get his pants off and find that final tattoo. You need to see his bare body in full, and you have an idea of how to earn it.

“Please?” For the hundredth time, you bring out the puppy eyes because that might be his only weakness. His body twitches a tiny bit, but you realize you have to take it up a notch with the dilf angle. “Please, daddy?”

The word not only makes your face hot but also taunts the bulge ready to burst out of his pants. He watches with immense focus as you unbuckle him and free his hard cock from all the fabric standing in its way. 

You assumed you would’ve had to search his skin for that last tattoo, but it’s staring you right in the face. A fat snake slithers along his cock, tempting you to stroke it with its seductive glare. You’d appreciate the design more if not for the fact that snakes eat cute little lizards like salamanders and chameleons, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t incredibly hot.

Without thinking, you wrap both of your hands around his length the same way you had with his arm. Jungkook would probably use the term “fondling” again if he wasn’t so entranced by your touch. If he’s like this with just your hands, you wonder how he’d fare with your whole mouth around him.

Just as you lick the drool from the corner of your lips, he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. “If you do good today, I’ll let you have a taste tomorrow, yeah?”

Tomorrow is too long of a wait for a starved babe like yourself, but you nod anyway because you want to be praised again.

“Good girl,” he purrs as he removes the final piece of clothing over your breasts. Then he leans back to get your whole bare body in sight. “Can you show daddy how you want to be touched?”

You start by squeezing your breasts together and working your way down to your core. Your legs spread themselves open and your fingers glide right in. One hand pumps in and out of your hole while the other strokes your clit. You’re so wet you’d think you’d already orgasmed several times if you didn’t know any better.

With shy eyes, you glance up at the boy watching your every move. This is the first time someone has ever dropped everything to watch you touch yourself. You usually just tease your clit a little if the cock inside you isn’t enough, but never once has a boy given you his full attention like this. He might not take any notes in class, but he’s definitely jotting a few things down for the next time it’s his turn to play with you.

Your fingers speed up and your panting gets louder. How long is he going to make you suffer before he takes over? The one thing you need right now is for him to fuck you senseless.

But instead of getting handsy with you, he grabs his cock and forces you to watch—not that you’d look away anyway.

“Do you want this cock inside your tight little pussy?” he says rather calmly as he jerks off.

You nod as a gasp for more pleasure escapes you.

“Beg for it.”

“Please daddy,” you whimper, giving up the last of your dignity. “I need you inside my tight little pussy.”

“Such a good girl.” He throws your legs over his shoulders and pushes himself into you. It’s definitely a tight fit, but your body adjusts to him accordingly. You almost lose it when you hear the way he grunts your name. 

As he pounds in and out of you, you feel yourself getting dangerously close. “Jungkook, I’m—”

“Don’t cum yet,” he warns. “Not until I say so.”

You wish you’d known he was the type to torture you for one single release. If you’d known sooner, you would’ve tried to pace yourself. Now you’re stuck on the edge without permission to orgasm. You love it here.

In the meantime, he gives you some more sloppy kisses. His tongue doesn’t have to fight for dominance over your docile one, but he’s certainly not holding back. That, in combination with the forceful thrusting down below, is your definition of the best rough sex.

At some point, the pleasure begins to melt altogether into a foggy haze of feral lust. Your moans have been reduced to a broken record machine, and your poor body is just waiting to hear the word to finally hit its high. You don’t even know how much time has passed.

“You poor thing,” he growls into your mouth. On pure instinct, you tighten around him and feel him tense up. “Do you enjoy it when I tease you like this?”

You nod without thinking too hard about it.

“Think you can go another hour?”

Hell no, but you nod anyway.

“I’m not that mean,” he chuckles as his hands slide up and down your limp legs. “But good to know.”

He quickens the pace to build the pleasure back up with you still so tight around him. Your obnoxious moans and whimpers give porn star vibes. He better let you get your release soon if he doesn’t want any complaints from his neighbors.

“Please, Jungkook, I can’t—” you gasp, biting back the impending wave of pleasure. Your claw marks are etched into his ribs. “Please let me cum.”

Satisfied with your begging, he nods with the cockiest smile you’ve ever seen and gives you the okay. It feels like your whole body breaks into a million pieces of pure pleasure. Your back arches, your walls tighten even more around him, and your chest heaves up and down as you ride the wave out.

Not long after, he pulls out and pumps his fat cock over your breasts until they’re covered in his lust like two glazed donuts. He admires your glossy worn-out body for a good while before tossing you a hand towel to clean up. You feel timid and small all of a sudden. What if there’s nothing left to say after the excitement of sex has come and gone? What if he shrugs you aside like everyone else does once they get what they want from you?

“Did you really call me daddy?” He throws his pants back on and joins you back on the bed. You can tell he’s trying his best to hide a smile, but you see through him. It’s adorable.

“I thought you were into it, no?” Your face is flushed with heat again as you slip back into your outfit.

“It’s cute coming from you, I guess,” he shrugs as if he’s not aware of how weak he is to your baby girl charm. “I was just going with it because you said it first.”

“Well if you don’t like it, I won’t say it next time.” You give him a hmph for extra emphasis.

“I didn’t say that,” he clarifies, almost a little too quickly. You knew it. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Your voice is soft.

“Go for it.”

“Why did you invite me over even though you finished most of the project yourself?” It’s been in the back of your mind all day, although you did shove it away during the sex.

“Well, my little demon cat kept me up all night so I thought I might as well work on it. And you were hard set on coming here, weren’t you?” he says. You nod for him to continue. “But also, I wanted you to know that there’s at least one person in our class who’d save you from that house on fire.”

He’d choose you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah, but you hate everyone else, so I’m your only option.” Your smartass can’t help but point out the flaw in his statement. If anything, it’s you challenging him one last time.

“Maybe you’re the only option that matters,” he hums to himself as if those words don’t mean a thing. Who knew a grumpy boy could say such soft things? And who knew you’d fall for it? 

If a hundred shallow friendships is what it took to bring you to this moment—this boy on this bed—then you’re glad you took that route. And you’re even happier that that route ends where this new one begins.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook #jungkook #bts

[dilemmaontwolegs]

I don't know about you but i NEED heavy angst with Charles or filthy smut i don't know what i really want sorry if I confused you😭

Mistakes || CL16

Charles Leclerc x ex!fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, rough sex

WC: 600~

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You turned towards the angry whisper that hissed down your neck. The skin should have been seared by the burning hate that laced the words, but the only heat you felt was one of an entirely different kind. The fire in your belly was one that had been left to grow out of control, an endless fuel fed by the photos he uploaded online each day.

“Don’t be like that Charlie,” you mocked at you straightened his tie, tugging it tighter like you were contemplating choking him with it. “You should be thanking me, after all, this is everything I had planned for us.”

You looked around the lavish affair with a laugh. “Where is your lovely bride anyway? I should pass on my condolences. Oops, slip of the tongue, I meant congratulations.”

“No games, not here, not today.” Charles grabbed your arm and started to drag you out of the reception area and throw a set of doors that warned ‘staff only’. The classical music was silenced as they swung shut behind you and your back was pressed against the wall.

“Come now, Charlie, you love my games,” you teased as you tipped your head back to meet his glare. “You had no complaints about them last night.”

You swore you could hear the groan of his teeth as they clench together. “That was a mistake.”

“No, that will come when you find yourself stuck in missionary once a week, if you’re lucky, pretending to cum just so you don’t have to spend another second looking into the face of the woman who has trapped you in a life you don’t want. Then you will realise your mistake.”

His hands tightened enough to leave bruises but you weren’t done giving him the reality check he needed as he leaned in to growl in your ear, “Shut the fuck up.”

“You will miss taking me however you want, whenever you want. You will miss the freedom. I know you.” Your tongue rolled over his racing pulse and you felt the shiver down his spine. “I know you better than you know yourself, better than she will ever know you.”

“You’re crazy,” he muttered weakly, not believing his own words as his grip loosened. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But you want me here.”

His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan as he admitted what you already knew, “I do want you here.”

“Then fucking have me. Do what you want and take me,” you baited him. “Fuck me while your bride wonders where her husband is. Fuck me like it’s the last time, Charlie.”

He turned you in an instant, slamming you against the wall as his hands furiously worked your skin tight dress over your ass before he freed himself from the tailored suit trousers he wore. His hand clamped over your mouth to silence the cry as he nudged your legs apart and thrust his cock inside you relentlessly. He was chasing a high and running from his fate. He was releasing the primal beast within, one last time before he was forced to bury it for the vows he had taken.

“That was the last time,” you confirmed for him after he filled your cunt with his seed and slipped from your body with the heaviness of regret. You pulled your dress back into place and felt the warmth running down your thighs, the bruises on your arms, the teeth marks on your shoulder. “Goodbye, Charles.”

“Wait,” he panted at the first step you took. “That’s it? What game are you playing?”

“That’s it, no game,” you shrugged. “I just needed to prove a point.”

His brows pinched in confusion. “What point?”

“That she may get your name, but I’ll always be the one you want.”

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #charles leclerc smut

[strawbeerossi]

Anger Management

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer broke up months ago over him talking to someone else. Whenever she dies and he’s left to grieve, he likes to take his anger out on you until one day you have enough.

Content/Warnings: Non descriptive break up, mentions of Maeve (I’m a Maeve hater), Spencer is an asshole, Dom!Spencer, office sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Nine: Hate Sex

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer had always known that he was a creature of habit after learning the things he liked and disliked. He strayed from trying most new things, nor did he ever spend his time going out of his way to communicate with new people. He enjoyed his simple yet equally complicated existence. 

He had a stable job, he had a home, plus he had a huge combined family with his work colleagues. Besides you. 

Once upon a time, he loved you. The both of you spent every waking moment together at home and at work, enjoying one another’s presence and taking care of one another. Once he met Maeve, that changed though. He’d began to spend his time talking to the woman who he swore up and down was just his doctor who was helping him with his headache problems. 

The more they talked, the more you realized that had to be a bullshit lie. What kind of doctor makes her patients go to a payphone just to have a consultation or to discuss your issues? She felt like it was suspicious. They had secret conversations, things Spencer wouldn’t dare discuss after the fact. If you were honest, it pissed you off.

That was why there was an explosive fight, one where you were deciding on packing up all your shit in the apartment and you were leaving. You didn’t have to sit around and take it so you weren’t going to.

You’d transferred departments for a while after that, knowing the BAU couldn’t be home with your ex boyfriend still there. You’d moved on to Counterterrorism, which was an alright job. Paid the bills, you just preferred where you knew that you belonged.

Going for months without talking to Spencer and having no interest to, you thought you were recovering pretty well.

Until you got a call from Aaron Hotchner. Spencer was on bereavement leave and they were down an agent, which you’d briefly heard the long story of Maeve being stalked and ultimately shot in front of Spencer. He was practically begging you on the phone to come back, long enough for them to be fully staffed so cases could be solved timely and efficiently.

Which you did. It ended up with you putting in a transfer to come back to the BAU. Things went downhill after that though. Spencer was still going through the stages of grief and most of the issues and hard feelings he felt were taken out on you. He’d make sly and shitty comments regularly, things you did your best to ignore. He was grieving, it didn’t make it okay but you really did try to cut him some slack. The things he said were deep cuts, insulting your intelligence at times just to see if he could elicit a reaction.

That wasn’t the Spencer you knew, the Spencer that you loved. You just assumed that version of him was dead and buried along with Maeve. 

Today wasn’t a day to bother you though. After weeks of suffering from verbal abuse, you were tired of it. You’d woken up in a bad mood as is that morning, dreading what was to come the minute that you walked into the bullpen. A mood that Derek would jokingly say was because you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

With the desk setups, it was no surprise your desk was across from Spencer’s, how lucky could you possibly be? You were looking through the stack of files you desperately needed to sort through when Spencer came in. Joy.

“You know, if you actually made forth an effort to do your job when it needs to be done, you wouldn’t have the pile of work you need to blow through.” He was getting started early, placing his satchel on the underside of his desk while retrieving a book. 

Without missing a beat, you picked up at least four of the files and tossed them carelessly onto his desk. “Then fucking help lighten the load since you are so concerned about it.” You snapped, which caught Spencer by surprise. You’ve been a quiet punching bag since he got back but here you were, snapping at him. That only fueled his fire.

“I’m not concerned about it, I’m giving you advice.” He had his own attitude while picking up the files before throwing them back to your desk. “I think you need to stop being so sensitive. It’s not a good look for you. I’m offering you advice.”

“No. You’re being an asshole and I’m getting tired of you taking every ounce of anger out on me! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You asked, hands slamming on your desk while you were pushing yourself to stand. The commotion had garnered the attention of every other agent in the bullpen, even Aaron and Dave watching from the windows of their office. You knew you’d be embarrassed later but you felt so good right now for standing up for yourself. As you stormed out of the heavy glass doors, everyone turned their attention to Spencer, who was in a stunned silence. “I’ll go talk to her.” He cleared his throat. He felt rage festering inside of him after that little display, however he kept himself grounded as he was heading out of the bullpen in search of you.

He eventually found you in one of the vacant offices, a frown on his face as he was quickly stepping inside and closing the door. “That was ridiculous.” He wasn’t here to apologize, only here to argue even more. “No, it wasn’t. I hope that I humiliated you infront of every agent in that room.” Venom dripped from your tone as you turned to face him, face red from anger. “I’m so sick of your bullshit. You think just because you lost someone that you have a right to make my life a living hell?” You asked, stepping closer to jab your finger into his chest. “Because you don’t. I’m sorry that whatever her name is died, I truly am. I’m tired of giving you a pass because I feel bad for you!” You spat.

That was the final straw for Spencer as he backed you up against the nearest wall of the office. “I knew you would try and bring her up into this!” He scoffed, both of you staring at each other in a tense silence. Within a flash, your hands were tangled in Spencer's hair while he was slamming his mouth into yours, the frustration and anger all melting into the kiss as he had you pinned to the wall behind you. “I’m so fucking sick of your mouth.” You murmured against his lips and made Spencer grunt. “Like I’m not tired of your bullshit.” He murmured, his hands quickly working on the buttons of your pants while working on tugging them down. 

The haste was returned as you were working on his belt before tossing it somewhere in the room while tugging down the pants hugging his waist. The kiss was abruptly cut off as he was flipping you around, your body now facing the wall. It was for the best that you didn’t look at him, moreso because he’d pissed you off so much that you just wanted to use him for your own relief. You deserved this, even if he didn’t. He had a similar sentiment, your panties being pulled to your mid thighs. 

The thick tip of his cock was breaching your sex without warning, mouth falling open while you were letting your forehead rest against the wall, mouth agape as his thick cock was bottoming out. “Oh, my fucking god.” 

There was no time to waste, the large hands resting against your waist while his thick cock was pistoning inside of your tight cunt, a bruising grip keeping you in place. “Fuck. How does it feel to be a useless hole? Lord knows that nobody ever wants your fucking input or opinions.” His words were low, hips roughly snapping into yours as the echo of your skin smacking together filled the empty office. 

“Spencer-” You began before one of his hands was over your mouth, muffling any attempt for you to speak. “Shut up.” He growled. You both had issues together but this encounter really symbolized that. Spencer used to be slow and sweet, hardly ever cursing or telling you some of the filthy things that had been falling from his lips. A moan was muffled against his hand while his eyes fluttered shut.

“Gonna cum. You’re gonna take everything that I give you.” His lips were against the shell of your ear, the words making your mouth fall open. With a few more thrusts, it wasn’t long until his spent was gushing deep inside of you, the feeling causing you to hit your own release shortly after. 

Instead of getting the treatment that you were used to, he was pulling out of you and pulling up his boxers and pants. “Might wanna clean yourself up.” He commented, fluffing out his hair while walking to the closed office door. 

The last thing you heard was the door open and the footsteps out of the room followed by a slam of the door. 

That was one way to get over an argument.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #strawbeerossi kinktober 2023

[jade-jini]

“I’m the Drama”

Kim Minjeong x Reader

Prompt: Jeongie showering after having nasty sex with her ex who she swore she would never ever be back to but she can’t help it ‘cause the pussy too good. “Even when you broke me, you’re too much of a good fuck to let it go.”

Genre: Smut, Angst

TW: toxic exes, mentions of cheating(but who knows). emotional issues. Mostly hate sex.

If Minjeong had to use one word to describe pleasure, it would be easy: you.

“Fuck.. y/n~” Minjeong moaned, grabbing your hair tightly and keeping you closer to her cunt (not like you would try to get away anyways) “I’m gonna fucking come.. Hmm fuck don’t stop…~” she begged in that cute high pitched tone she had when she was on the verge of her orgasm. You knew it very well, you’ve heard it a million times. You gave the girl what she wanted, and moved your tongue so fast until she was making a delicious mess in your mouth “oh my fuckin godddd…” she loudly cried while reaching her climax for who knows what time in that night already.

Once she calmed down, she looked at you, and you looked at her too, quietly making such intense eye contact, neither of you willing to let go. To let go of several things…

“Is this the part where you send me home ‘cause you promised to never let me sleep in your bed again?” You asked her, making her clicked her tongue and roll her eyes, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you to the bed now. She had you on your back while getting ready between your legs yet again.

“Shut the fuck up and moan for me, y/n.” she ordered and you were ready to obey, not without teasing her first tho.

“You know, that’s confusing. Do you want me to moan or do you want me to shut up baby?” And making you gasp, she grabbed you by the neck as soon as the pet name left your mouth, ‘cause hearing you calling her anything like that after your breakup felt like a dagger of memories to her heart.

“You know what? yes. I prefer if you just shut the fuck up.” She said, grabbing her own panties and shoving them into your mouth. You wanted to complain but fuck it, you were in no position (plus you loved having her panties in your mouth don’t Fuckin act funny). You felt the girl’s fingers massaging your clit, while her face showed a frown as she focused her eyes on your pussy. Seeing her so concentrated was something you always found so hot.

However, you knew she was doing her best not to look into your eyes, and that saddened you. Unlike before when she’d love looking at them and express her love through her endearing stare and soft smiles, now she wanted to avoid being too aware that it was you, her ex, the one that hurt her, who she was fucking. Minjeong knew nobody would turn her on like you, but if she thought too much about anything, it would just freak her out. Too much pain she tried not to process.

If Minjeong had to use one word to describe pain, it would also be easy: you.

“You cheated!” she accused once again, dressed in an oversized shirt.

“oh my goshhh…” you left out in a stressed sigh while finishing putting your shirt back on “not this again. I did NOT cheat, we were not together anymore. Just get. Over it.” you remarked every word, you were tired of this. You’re not even sure what exactly triggered this argument again this time, but it never took too much for Minjeong to get so worked up when you were there. The plan was to simply go home after hooking up, trying not to argue but of course, you guys failed again. Like always.

“You didn’t even wait a fucking week! I fucking caught you while picking up my stuff you horny piece of lying shit.” she said while pushing your shoulders.

“But it was not cheating! Jesus, minjeong, YOU broke up with me. You broke up with me because you said I turned distant and instead of talking to me, YOU alone decided to end our relationship. Why are you acting like I’m the villain?!”

“Because you are! And what? Am I supposed to believe you didn’t know her from before? That you weren’t fucking before we broke up?!” you really hated her tone and the assumptions she kept making over and over again.

“Think whatever you want, Minjeong.”

“yeah of course I’m gonna think whatever I want, because you know it’s true. Fucking cheater.”

“Don’t Fucking talk to me in that tone, Minjeong.” you warned her, clenching your jaw.

“Or what,y/n? What the fuck are you gonna do?” she challenged you, her face too close to yours. You were looking at each other like you wanted to kill each other, and maybe you wanted, or maybe…

“Oh fuck… oh my Fuckin god!” Minjeong screamed under you, her nails deep on your back and the strap deep inside her as she clenched around it so tight, coming with you while the other end of the toy made you reach your own climax, biting on the girl’s shoulder. “Fuck! That hurt you fucking idiot, let go!” She complained while pushing you to the side, now both of you lying side to side on the bed, looking at the ceiling trying your best to ignore the post nut clarity. there goes another burning, steamy round of sex. Bodies so sweaty and hot you could feel the hair stuck to your forehead and nape. “I’m gonna take a shower, you better not be here once I’m out.” She said, in a bitter tone that was still somehow calmed. You heard her, but didn’t show any reaction as your eyes were still stuck to the ceiling. You sighed, hearing her enter the shower, knowing you had to get up soon to get your clothes before she decided to do it herself and pushed you out of her door half naked.

——

On a different occasion, after you two finished, you didn’t wait for her to tell you to go. You started getting dressed up a little faster than usual. Normally, you waited for her to just kick you out, ‘cause deep down you always had a little hope she’d let you stay with her, to sleep in each other’s arms like before, like when you were each other’s home and safe place. The day after tho, you were busy because of work and you needed to advance some of it so you did have to go home that night. However, Minjeong didn’t buy it.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” she asked very curious and clearly upset about your behavior, which surprised you because she was always the one in a hurry to get you out of her apartment. You scoffed.

“What? Now you want me to stay?” you asked in a sarcastic tone, which made her role her eyes “I have work tomorrow morning and stuff to finish tonight, I don’t have time to wait around until you’re kicking me out and throwing my clothes at me in the middle of the hallway.”

“Bullshit.” she said, clearly getting worked up once again because of whatever she was imagining. “what is it? That bitch texted you to get home soon?”

“What are you talking about?” You asked really tired, you really didn’t wanna deal with this tonight.

“You know who I’m talking about, y/n. Your new bitch, the one you cheated on me with.” she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious? How many times do I have to tell you that it was a ONE time thing? Why cant you get that through your fucking head?!”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” she yelled, tears threatening to fall already.

“I am NOT lying, fuck!” you yelled back, agitated about this whole situation, this whole routine and cycle.

“God why do we always end up fighting?!” she screamed louder in exasperation. She just doesn’t understand how someone who used to make her feel so much love now upset her so easily.

“I don’t know! You tell me!” you told her, moving your hands as you speak to emphasize your desperation for answers “You’re always the first one to raise your fucking voice. What, am I supposed to just accept it and let you talk to me like that like—”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” she yelled with a trembling voice and tears already falling down her face, grabbing your shirt and hardly pushing you against the wall, making you go quiet and a little scared. Both of you breathing heavy, her so close to you that you could feel her breathe on your lips. She rested her forehead against yours without making eye contact, just trying her best to calm herself. “I Fuckin hate you, y/n.”

“No you don’t…” you whispered, this time waiting for her to make the next move. And so she did, kissing you deeply. And there you went for yet another round. This time, it made you so exhausted that you fell asleep for a little while, and Minjeong decided to take the chance to shower.

She hated herself. For enjoying the taste of your lips, the touch of your hands, the feeling of your skin. The taste of your body and how you knew hers so well. She hated you (no) but she hated herself more for not being able to escape you, to resist you. You broke her fucking heart and you didn’t even seem to care, and still here she was, calling you when she needed you, and you would always come like you always did. Or when you suddenly text her or knock on her door, she couldn’t deny you. Her body burned for your touch.

It burned for it and afterwards it would still burn, but for different reasons. Minjeong always needed to shower after having sex with her ex. She needed that private time, to desperately try and erase you from her body like she wasn’t gonna call you again soon. Minjeong would cry under the water, knowing she could never erase the print you’ve left in her heart, her soul. Knowing she would always yearn for you to make her body yours. She was yours, and as much as she hated the pain you caused her, this is something she had yet to accept. That you were each other’s. That she couldn’t just cut that thread. Her body didn’t listen to her, her mind was fragmented and so was her heart. Pieces of them everywhere inside of her, most of them not able to process all of this.

So she’d cry under the shower, out of pain, out of anger, out of love. Out of so many things. Kim Minjeong was just emotionally exhausted, and you? You were emotionally numb. And you were trying to be ok with it for now, ‘cause you knew the moment everything hit you again, it was gonna be chaos inside of you. You were not gonna be able to process your girl not being your girl anymore. The love of your life turned into some type of enemy that didn’t want you but couldn’t let you go either. So you trick your brain, deep down hoping things will get better and you’ll find some answers. For now? You’d make Minjeong yours again and again the only way she allowed you to.

Even if it was killing you both.

#kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #aespa x reader #aespa smut #aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa minjeong #aespa winter #kim minjeong #minjeong x reader #minjeong smut #minjeong angst #Aespa winter x reader

[byechristopher]

⠀

I hate you, too [pt.2].

– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT & ANGST.

PART ONE.

Author's note: HI, I finally wrote it. I originally made a poll but, the answer was pretty clear so, here it is. It was requested, by the way! I'll reply to the message because I forgot to put it here, thanks for the request, dear. Side note, I was listening to Never Lose Me – Flo Mili (during the smut part, obvi). Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: filthy smut, super super long, didn't proofread, rough smut, car sex, angst. That's pretty much it. Minors dni. Thank you.

It's been a week since the party I attended, the one where I encountered him.

My mind has been consumed by reflections on that night, so much that I haven't been able to do anything else other than that, except for work. While I assume he might not have dwelled on it, I can't help but wonder if he thinks about me – about the way we touched, the way I looked at him when he prepared to leave. When I didn't want him to leave.

I shake my head, realizing I can't continue this self-inflicted struggle. Accepting the ongoing intimacy with my ex was challenging enough, let alone having feelings that linger inside me, still to this day. I almost gave in that day, when I saw something in his eyes, something that said he still cared about me – mending my dress, that sweet kiss, his declaration of hatred, a reminder of our past. That we once hated each other and that's why we weren't together anymore. Or so we thought.

Deciding that just sitting here, mopping around and feeling sorry for myself isn't going to help at all, I get up determined to go outside and have some fun. No house parties, no hosts, no Chris, no nothing.

My friends are already up for it (and I love them for it), because it only takes ten minutes for them to come over so we can get all dolled up together. It's a few minutes past midnight and we're finally ready (okay, we did have a few pre-drinks then and there), so we immediately call a cab. We reach our destination just a few minutes later and after greeting the girl that was at the entrance of the club, she lets us in and we get lost in the crowd.

You know how it goes; flashing lights everywhere, people kissing and drinking, almost pitch black all around. Looks like clubs aren't that different from house parties after all. A group of friends offers to buy us drinks, and who are we to say no (there's no way we're dancing with any of them, but it's fine) – we're already having the time of our lives, we're drinking, we look amazing, everything seems possible.

Except for the impossible.

Because there's no fucking way Chris happens to be in this same club; I completely lose the ground beneath my feet. I want to turn my back to him, I really do. But at the same time I want him to see me again. I want to see him again.

My friends notice where I'm looking and they know better than to say anything – so they just leave me be. Chris notices me as well and everything stops. Not again. I hope he doesn't come here but deep down I'm praying he does.

"Never had a bitch like me in your life.."

What is it with me, Chris and songs that we both used to like (and have sex while listening to them)? He's looking at me, and I can feel his intense gaze once again. As he drinks something, for a moment, I wish I could see this sight up close, look how his tongue touches the glass. Fucking hell.

Me and my girlfriends sway to the music, letting every beat ignite a playful dance between us. As we keep each other close, the music wraps around us, and for a moment I forget about him. Lost in the rhythm, we surrender to the dance, singing along.

He's here. Well fuck.

He grabs me by the waist and pulls me closer to him – I can't help but roll my eyes, turning around to look into his blue ones, holding my own drink close to me.

"How dare you interrupt my dance?" I yell in his ear so he can hear and he smiles.

"I stayed to watch you for a bit before I approached and interrupted your dance. You were just too irresistible, damn." as usual, he has a big smirk on his face and I just want to slap it off his face.

His arm stays on my waist and I can't find the strength to push it away – his hand roams around my naked back thanks to my dress, not that I'm complaining. He leans in to wrap his lips around my straw, tasting my drink while looking at me.

"Tastes much better with that lipstick you're wearing.." he teases and licks his lips, "..bet you love it even more when it's around my dick." his gaze darkens and my legs shake a little.

"What a shame you'll never see it on you ever again." I give him a sarcastic smile and push him gently with one hand.

"You sure about that?" his lips are touching my ear and again, I hate myself for letting him have such an effect on me.

"Yes. I don't like sharing my lipsticks." I raise a challenging eyebrow, indirectly asking him if he's been fucking anyone else besides me – because if that's the case, I feel like I will completely lose myself.

"Mhmm.. you're already thinking about other girls sucking my dick?" he tilts his head with an innocent-like look on his face, "..jealous about it?" his thumb rubs my bottom lip and his smile returns.

My blood is boiling to say the least, but I know him way better than to show that. So instead, I smile, "I don't have time to think about your dick, baby. Someone else makes sure I don't." take that.

No one. Absolutely no one can make me stop thinking about him in general but I had to say something. Otherwise I might just start crying.

Something shifts in his eyes and I internally high-five myself for achieving to make him jealous once again. He leaves. What? He literally just lets me go and goes back to where his friend group is, turns his back on me and everything. Well, shit.

I'm more than jealous but I want him way more than our egoistic bullshit; I'm shameless, I want him.

I move swiftly through the crowd, desperately trying to find him before i change my mind – and I do find him. He doesn't really expect to see me there but he does and he smiles. I quickly wrap my fingers around his wrist this time, dragging him with me like he did in that house party the previous week. Safely, I lead us out of the club, making sure to not answer any of his questions.

Once he realises that I'm not speaking to him until we reach the car, he stops talking and simply follows me. We finally get into the car and I start the engine.

"Do you realise how crazy that was?" he finally says, he really didn't expect me to just do that.

"I thought you liked crazy." I smirk this time and he huffs, licking his lips and leaning back against the passenger seat, making himself comfortable.

Once I make sure we're somewhere where no one will be able to see us, I immediately stop the car, lock it and I practically jump on him, straddling his thighs. His hands immediately grab my hips, his mouth hungry, searching for my lips and his eyes even hungrier.

"You drive me fucking crazy." he almost growls as he quickly rides up my dress, exposing the rest of my thighs and panties.

I undo his shirt with shaky fingers, leaving it on but making sure I have access to his naked body. I almost attack his skin with hungry kisses and love bites as he keeps himself occupied with my butt, kneading and smacking the skin every now and then.

I wrap my lips around his nipple and now my lipstick is long gone – his moans fill the car, fogging up the windows as I continue sucking on his sensitive nipple. He pushes my panties to the side from behind, his finger traveling from my ass to my pussy, rubbing the entrance and collecting all of the juices. I can't help but moan against his skin. With his free hand, he grabs a fistful of my hair, tugging at it to make my head fall back – with my neck now exposed, he finds the opportunity to attack it with his kisses and bites. In the meantime, I unbuckle his belt, moaning every time his teeth sink into my sensitive skin.

His finger keeps teasing my wet entrance, but his other hand finally lets go of my hair and I immediately lean in to kiss his lips hungrily. As I sit up as much as I can, I push his pants down with a bit of his help, doing the same with his boxers as I start rubbing his cock.

"You must be very loyal to that other guy, hm?" he chuckles and wraps his hand around my throat.

"Your other girlfriends haven't been able to satisfy you, it seems. You're about to cum already..." I click my tongue, completely avoiding what he said to me, "..either that, or you're still obsessed with me.." I whisper, grinding down on his dick as he keeps grabbing me by the throat, "do you think they'd like that?"

He chuckles, moaning as soon as he feels the warmth and the wetness of my pussy, "do you think your little bitch will like it when he sees the marks I left for him?" he whispers, tightening the grip around my throat.

I groan, realising my neck must be all bruised up already. This fucking asshole.

Grabbing his dick again, I lower myself down on it as we both moan in unison – he immediately hugs me, his warm fingers digging into the skin of my back as I start to finally move.

"Fucking hell.." he whispers, his face buried in my neck as his hands cup my ass cheeks, guiding me up and down on his cock.

"Fuck.. Chris.." I moan loudly, one hand around him and the other one pressing against the car window, leaving a mark behind.

"Baby.. like that.." he mutters and I can feel myself clenching around him as soon as he calls me that.

He takes my breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently and kissing them with every chance he gets. I can feel him throbbing and I know it is almost time.

He immediately licks his fingers and presses them on my clit, making me stop my movements and tremble, my eyes roll to the back of my head.

"Don't stop. Keep going." he orders and I do exactly that. My burning thighs don't make it easy, especially in his goddamn car, but I don't care. As soon as I start moving up and down his dick again, his fingers start moving.

"Chris.. Chris, please.." I moan, gasping every time he picks up the pace. My breasts bounce with every movement, both of my hands now are on his shoulders supporting myself as I feel myself getting closer and closer.

"I wanna feel it, cum on me." he moans and his touch on my clit becomes as gentle as it can, and that's when I lose it. Once I come down from my high, he pulls out and cums all over my belly, almost shouting my name as he squeezes his eyes shut and grips my hips so hard that I'm sure it'll leave bruises behind.

It takes a while for me to start breathing normal again – and at the same time, I was afraid of what was going to happen when all of this stopped. But for now, I am trying to live in the moment as much as I can; he holds me in his arms tightly, I can feel his heartbeat and his breath tickling my hair, and I can swear I feel his fingertips caressing my back, drawing invisible circles on the skin.

I almost want to cry as he holds me close, I am so overwhelmed with emotions I didn't know I still had in me, that my hands start shaking.

"There's no one else. Only you." I whisper against his shoulder, my cheek pressed against it.

He takes a moment to respond, but he eventually does, "no other lipsticks for me either. Only yours." he whispers back.

This is what happens all the time ever since we parted ways – I call him, we have sex. He sees me outside, we have sex. We are ruthless, merciless, ready to tear each other apart without thinking of the consequences. So when we're finished, and all the hatred and lust is gone, what's left is two vulnerable, broken hearts and a love for each other that once existed.

I don't know how to react at his words. I feel relieved but I also feel angry, I feel hurt. Everything all at once.

"Come on." he says and makes me lean back against the dashboard. He grabs some baby wipes he keeps in his car and starts cleaning up my belly, my thighs, everywhere. He cleans himself up as well and throws them away in the little bin inside the car. He fixes my panties and my dress as well (as much as he can).

He tries to make me get up, but I stay in place. He looks at me but I don't move an inch, "can I ask you something?" I muster up the courage to ask.

"What is it?" he sighs, he knows something heavy is coming.

"Why are you so cold all the time?" he furrows his eyebrows at my question, and he looks like he is about to say a million reasons why what I just asked was stupid, "..so cold, playing it cool all the time, as if nothing happened." I say and I almost regret it.

"Are you fucking serious? What did you expect? You broke up with me, yet you still wanna have sex with me. Do you want me to be all lovey-dovey with you?" he narrows his eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek.

He's correct – what did I really expect? I vividly recall the day I ended our relationship; he was devastated, it was like something shifted within us since then. I was devastated, too. But the decision to break up felt necessary and inevitable. Our hectic schedules kept us apart for days on end. And being the jealous toxic assholes that we both are, this never ended well; it drove me nuts, I had to end it. However, ending the relationship doesn't mean my love for him ceased; on the contrary, I'll never stop loving him. And as for the sex.. well, it's pretty self-explanatory; he's the only one who knows what I like and what I don't. His touch is the only thing I knew for years. And that was the only way I could be close to him. I might've regretted that decision. Might've.

"No. But I would at least expect you to be respectful towards me, we were together for so long." I look down at my trembling fingers, there's pain in my voice.

"Yeah, well, do you know what else would be respectful? You, owning up to the decision you fucking made for the both of us." he's staring into my eyes, "when you break up with someone, especially when you've been with them for a long ass time, you don't go back to them. No matter what the situation is. That's what's respectful. But can you handle that?"

I don't know what to say. And I hate the fact that he's right – I know I fucked up.

"I don't think I can handle that, no." I say truthfully, my voice feels small and now I feel small too, in front of him.

"Yeah, well, that's your fucking problem now." he leans back against the passenger seat and clears his throat.

"Why do you come back?" I whisper, fearing the answer.

"You said it yourself that day. It's the only way to have you at the moment. And I'm taking it." now there's pain in his voice, "but do you realise how toxic that is? That's draining us way more than our schedule did." he runs his fingers through his hair and looks out of the window.

"So what are we supposed to do?" I ask. I feel so dumb.

"As I said. Own up to your decision. I never wanted to break up with you, which is why I never did. You should be the one who stops any contact between us. Not me. If I could, I would, trust me on this one." there's an emptiness in his eyes that I can not quite comprehend what it means. It doesn't let me see through him like I usually do.

"Chris.. damn it, I can't." I whisper, tears fill up my eyes but he's not having any of it.

"No, fuck off. You're fucking selfish." he's getting angry now, the vein in his neck is popping out, hands turning into fists and his knuckles turning white.

Fuck. It seems like everything I say is wrong. I want to just scream and cry and run away.

"I am not selfish, Chris. I am stupid.." I can't stop the tears that fill up my eyes, "..I never wanted to end things with you, I promise. I thought that.. that was the only way for us to calm the fuck down.. we were jealous, and crazy, and toxic." I let my hands fall on his lap.

"And what we're doing now is not toxic? How do you think I feel coming back to you after you broke up with me, just so we can fuck and tell each other we hate each other?" his jaw is clenched and his eyes are turning lighter. He's about to cry.

"I am sorry, Chris. I cannot imagine that, no.. I just.. I made a mistake.. and I am deeply sorry. I am paying for it as well.. this whole time, I really thought you just didn't care.. otherwise I would've made a move way sooner." I explain as much as I can, I am fully crying now.

He's holding back as much as he can – he collects me in his arms for yet another comforting hug when he notices I practically can't breathe, "first of all, breathe for me, okay? I need you to be calm so we can solve this." he rubs my back soothingly and my heart almost jumps out of my chest, because that's exactly who I fell in love with. That's the Chris I knew.

He does make me calm down way faster than I thought. I wipe away my tears and collect a single tear that left his eye as well.

"I love you. I always will." I whisper, cupping his cheeks.

"You know I love you too." his voice is very low, "I cannot stop loving you."

"Do you want to try again?" I whisper timidly, "I will try my best to make you trust me again." I say and I mean it.

"Pretty girl.." he mumbles, grabbing my chin gently, caressing it, "..you better try your hardest, hm?" he whispers and I nod like a little kid, "I promise to make more time for us, we deserve it. You deserve it."

⠀

⠀

⠀

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #fanfiction #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo imagine #sturniolo #sturniolo imagines #sturniolo imagine #oneshot #one shot #one-shot #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #smut #chris sturniolo angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #fan fiction

[hayatofiles]

PROMISCUOUS BOY

prompt: your next-door neighbour keeps bringing hookups one night after other disturbing your precious sleep. exhausted, you decide to write a letter venting all your frustrations — not expecting that in the middle of all this it would reach it recipient.

pairing: blade, jing yuan x fem! reader

cw: scenario format, modern au, slightly ooc to fit the plot, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, flirt, not beta-read

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Dear apt 502’ neighbour, I understand that starting a letter with "dear" may sound a bit old-fashioned and ridiculous when I don't even know you, but I hope you take in consideration my romantic spirit as a passionate literature student and will overlook this fact. That said, the reason why we’ve never met is mainly based on the times when I leave and get home. You see, I'm in my last year of a master's degree and the university has been charging all my time and dedication, so I barely have time to take care of myself other than to fall into bed and sleep. But lately, in the late hours of the night, I’ve had my rest interrupted at the only moment when my mind should find peace. And I swear, I've tried to use all possible methods to prevent the noise from affecting me but it has been increasingly difficult. Far be it for me to look for trouble because of someone else sex' life, no. I'd rather say good for you instead. But would it be nice of you to fuck your bitches without breaking my wall in the process? I can deal with their horrible moans, but definitely not with my damaged apartment. Be that as it may, I wish you the best intentions. Your apt 503’ neighbour

Blade

Oh, how you hated your neighbour. You hated him so much.

There were few people who achieved such a feat since you were the most patient and easygoing person to ever exist. Not even your Languages ​​and Cultures II’ partner who was extremely irresponsible or your idiot ex-boyfriend who still didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word break-up were able to get out of you a feeling as negative as hate. But, well, for everything in this life there was a first time, and your not-so-dear-neighbour was getting the upper hand.

When you wrote the letter on one of the dozens of nights in which his nocturnal activities seemed to be more important than other people's rest, you didn't expect a few days later for it to disappear from your desk where it belonged, much less for your friendly doorman to confirm your worst nightmare: all the mail for the week had already been sent.

What was supposed to be a joke turned into more days and nights of stress and you even considered writing him a second letter explaining that it was all just a misunderstanding and that the cracks in your wall weren't that important after all. However, when a week passed and your next-door neighbour's sexual activities began to last until the next morning, you understood that he was deliberately mocking you and, consequently, declaring war.

Now take a good look. You were a person known for your poise and calmness in overcoming challenges despite so much pressure, so it was expected that it’d be no different this time. Except it was. Because not even the calm and composure that the gods gave you could help you ignore the terrible moans in the next room, and the investment you put into that apartment was too high to let it go unnoticed.

And so, at 7:05 am on a Sunday morning, you found yourself in front of apartment 502' door knocking continuously on it as you waited not so patiently the willingness of your neighbour to finish his fuck and attend you. How a person managed to have so much sex drive was beyond your understanding, but perhaps this was due to the fact that your neighbour was an old and lonely man who must have found pleasure in the company of women only at night. Yes, that was a plausible reason.

In the end, you spent at least five minutes abusing the door’s wood without stopping. And just as you prepared to knock once more, it suddenly opened and the man who had tormented you all your nights had finally revealed himself.

Your impressions: Well, old he certainly was. Lonely? Hard to say. Now, unfairly hot and attractive? Unexpectedly yes.

When you came to your senses, you and the half-naked man spent a long time staring at each other in silence, absorbing each other's characteristics. You were clearly affected by his beauty and he was clearly irritated by your presence.

"Are you going to stare at me all the way, or are you going to say what you want?"

You blinked once, twice, three times until his words hit you, making you visibly red with embarrassment. How rude!

"First, good morning to you too," you said venomously, "Second, didn’t you read the letter, no? What part of not breaking the wall didn’t you get?"

The man seemed to take your words into consideration for a few seconds before a sneer appeared on his lips and his eyes narrowed in amusement. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his bare, scarred chest, making him more attractive than he already was.

"I don't see how this is up to you alone. After all, the wall is as much yours as it’s mine," he says and you open your mouth in shock.

"Excuse me? How can I not when it’s my side that is being damaged the most!"

"Then you better start looking for a bricklayer."

Gods, this man was impossible! You already knew that you hated him for a very insignificant reason, but now you were sure that he was more detestable than he let on. And the fact that he counts your arguments with that purposeful blank expression infuriated you even more.

"Unbelievable. Not only can't I keep my apartment intact, but I also have to spend sleepless nights because of the noise too."

"If the noise bothers you so much you can always come and join in," your neighbour offers with a small smirk, but the devilish glow that radiated from his crimson iris didn’t hide the true meaning behind his words.

Too embarrassed and disconcerted to continue the argument with the man, you angrily return to your house, slamming the door aggressively and containing the scream of frustration that bubbled in your chest.

Yingxing in turn couldn't help but think that you had a nice ass, and that annoy you was even better than he thought.

Jing Yuan

Two whole days looking for the letter all over your apartment took you to the most advanced stage of despair. Even though you had already ransacked your living room from floor to ceiling more times you could remember, messing up your kitchen and bedroom in the process, you still hadn't found a single trace of the piece of paper. And even though a part of you already knew that there was a high chance that the letter had been mixed in with the other correspondences and had been forwarded to its intended recipient, you'd rather have a hole in the ground swallow you than consider the only plausible option.

Even so, now here you found yourself: in front of the apartment 502’ door with a courage and pride that wasn't yours, sweat running down your spine and the dread of finally coming face to face with the man who not only ruined your last nights sleep, but who could very well ruin your social life too. God, just thinking that he could be a troublemaker and report you to the police, tarnishing your criminal record and your reputation as a good neighbor made you sick to your stomach.

But there was no other alternative. You had to make sure he hadn't opened the letter, or, in the worst case, consider not bringing this humiliation to the public.

So, minutes after knocking on the door, you were finally greeted by the resident of apartment 502 who, for much your surprise (or much delight) was wearing nothing but a bath towel with the steam's traces still emanating from his pale, wet skin. It suddenly became very clear to you why all those dozens of women made sure to scream “Oh, Jing Yuan!” every time they reached an orgasm.

"May I help you?"

Yeah. Fucking kill me, you wanted to answer.

The words you had practiced so much seemed to have escaped your brain and a familiar heat burned your cheeks. The embarrassment was huge, but you had already come this far and there was no going back. You only wished your neighbour wasn't this attractive, though.

"Hi. Good evening, sir. I’m your nextdoor neighbour and I wanted to know if by any chance you received a letter signed in my name", you stuttered so fast that you feared you’d have to repeat the sentence all over again since Jing Yuan didn’t seem to express any reaction for a few seconds. 

As the realization hit him, though, a faint gleam of amusement crossed his golden irises and mortification hit you like a bolt of lightning.

Oh shit. He had read the letter.

"Just a moment, ma'am", Jing Yuan said with a playful smile on his lips and entered his apartment for a few seconds, returning shortly afterwards with the well-known envelope in hand.

He held out the letter and you trembled as you finally picked it.

"I can tell that this was not a letter intended to be sent, right?"

"No, it wasn't. And I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble! God, what a humiliation! Now would be a great time to die", you pleaded into the void and your handsome neighbour laughed in response.

"It’s alright. You know, it's the first time I've received a letter from such a beautiful lady, although the content was definitely not what I expected", he said contemplatively crossing his huge arms on his huge chest. You looked away feeling more embarrassed, "Nevertheless, I also apologize for my lack of attention. I’ll be more considerate from now on."

If only it could get any worse. Here he was apologizing for having a healthy sex life when you should probably be doing the same. Having sex not apologizing, of course. 

Fearing that if you said anything else your words would come out more clumsy than the erratic beating of your heart, you forced a smile to your neighbour who was now looking at you intensely in slight amusement. And realizing that if you stared back at the man for too long your role as a fool would only get worse, you came up with a quick excuse to escape from there and back to your apartment. Maybe your next letter would be a goodbye to the world because you refuse to leave your home from now on.

"Thank you for your attention and again I apologize for the confusion, Mr. Jing Yuan. It was great meeting you, really, but I need to go so have a good night and don’t mind me anymore," you bow quickly and respectfully as your face burned in red, and stumble on wobbly legs back to your door.

However, before you could enter your house due to fumbling with the wrong keys for the lock, Jing Yuan let out a light laugh and replied: “It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Neighbour. Although, I must say that I would like to keep hearing more from you from now. This time, in person, of course."

Needless to say you entered your apartment at lightning speed vowing never to exit it again, leaving behind a very good-humored Jing Yuan.

How delightful to know that you already knew his name before he even needed to introduce himself, huh.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade #blade x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr #hsr x reader

[mercurygguk]

if it’s not you · kth (m)

↳ summary; Kim Taehyung grew up watching his parents fall more in love for each day that passed and he always longed for that great, passionate love himself. But if it’s not you? Then he doesn’t want it.

pairing; taehyung x f. reader

word count; 8,582

rating; 18+

content; exes to lovers!au, smut/angst, a bit of fluff

warnings; making out, dirty talk, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), hand job, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cream pie, possessive/jealous and slightly insecure taetae <3

chapters. part one | part two

↳ listen to the playlist here.

author’s note; it’s here!!!! the taehyung fic i’ve been wanting to write for SO long ughhhdjsk i really hope you like it and that you enjoy it despite all the hurt and angst heh – please let me know what you think! comment, reblog, send me an ask – whatever you feel most comfortable with!! everything is greatly appreciated <3 thank you sm for reading muah

ps. a big thank you to @kookingtae​ once again for beta-ing for me and for helping me brainstorm for the smut scene <33 ur the best ily thank you for your support and help!

Kim Taehyung is not sad.

Sadness is not what he feels when he goes out with his friends and spots two people all over each other, happy and in love. Sadness is not what he feels when he sits at home, watching a movie by himself. Sadness is not what he feels when his friends tell him they’re engaged and are having an engagement party to celebrate.

No, Kim Taehyung is way past sadness. 

If anything, what he feels is most likely something more akin to a feeling called ‘I don’t care anymore’... a certain, unexplainable emptiness. He doesn’t care that everyone around him is falling in love and getting engaged, he doesn’t care if two strangers are all over each other when he’s at a bar. He doesn’t care that all of his one-night-stands give him a nasty look when he tells them to leave in the middle of the night after having emotionless – I don’t care who you are or what your name is – sex with them.

Taehyung just doesn't care anymore. Or that’s what he thought, at least.

He thought that he wouldn’t give two shits when he saw you walk through the door, arriving at the engagement party his friends are currently throwing. He also thought that he wouldn’t care that some unknown guy was trailing right behind you, his hand tightly wrapped around yours.

But Taehyung should’ve known better. 

He should’ve known his mind would play tricks on him and pull up flashbacks to the day he lost all belief in love.

Two years ago…

“Kiss me,” he pleaded, voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. He begged you, the unsteady tone of his voice giving away that he was on the brink of breaking down if you didn’t connect your lips with his within the next few seconds. He was desperate, breathing heavily as he tried his best to keep the tears from welling in his eyes.

The last few weeks had been absolute hell. The apartment has been empty beyond measure, most of your stuff gone by now. You haven’t been in the apartment since the day you left and the only reason you were back tonight was because you forgot a few things. Taehyung knew you’d come, you had texted him to let him know just so that you wouldn’t be barging in on him at a random hour. One thing he didn’t realize though when you texted him was how much he genuinely hated all of this until you stood in front of him with a small, sad-looking smile on your face.

How you ended up in the bedroom, cuddling and now almost kissing, was unbeknownst to him and you as well. Taehyung had been sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as you packed your remaining things in utter silence. When you were finished and wanted to give him one last goodbye hug, he had made the first move to urge you onto the bed with him. It’s not that he had bad intentions with it. He just needed to hold you one last time before you’d move on for good. Cuddles then turned into him pulling you on top of him to straddle his waist, begging and pleading for you to kiss him.

“Taehyung…” You softly let his name fall from your lips in a sigh as you looked down at him from your straddling position on top of him, “we shouldn’t-”

“Please, ____,” he tried again with pain laced in his words, sitting up with you still perched on his lap, “please, just kiss me.”

[end of flashback]

Two years since he last saw you and talked to you. Two years of losing every ounce of belief he had in ‘the great love’ of life. Why continue to look for love when he already had the love of his life and lost her?

In Taehyung’s head, there was no reason to look for love when the person he loved more than life itself left him with only half a heart to live by two years ago. Even if he wanted to find another great love, it simply wouldn’t be possible. He lives with only half of his heart and you can’t love someone with just half a heart.

Not when someone else has the other half.

“Hey, isn’t that ____?”

Taehyung is pulled from his thoughts by Jimin, his best friend since high school and the only person who would be able to recognize his ex-girlfriend from miles away – even after two years have gone by.

“Yep,” Taehyung curtly replies and brings his drink to his lips, taking a long sip. The heavy, dark taste of whiskey burns his throat on the way down but he welcomes it, suddenly in desperate need of feeling something that isn’t the tug on the strings of his half heart.

Jimin’s face scrunches up in confusion, “who’s the guy?”

I don’t know, Jimin. Does it look like I’ve stayed in touch with her since she walked out on me? Do you think she’d be across the room, in another man’s embrace, if I had stayed in touch with her?

Instead of saying that, Taehyung shrugs ‘carelessly’ and takes another sip of his drink, eyes following you as you and your date move towards the newly-engaged couple. 

He can’t take his eyes off you.

You look so different and yet the exact same. 

Every move of your body and expression on your face twist in the most beautiful, hypnotizing way as always. Your hair is shorter, he notices, but it suits you. You’re glowing from across the room and your smile lights up the entire apartment when you throw your head back in laughter.

It travels across the room and reaches Taehyung’s ears, cutting straight through the music flowing from the stereo. The pretty sound causes his chest to fill with a familiar warmth. Except this time it isn’t him who’s on the receiving end of your smile and gentle touch; your date is. As much as it bothers him, Taehyung can’t stop watching you as you talk with the hosts, wishing them congratulations on their engagement, and handing them the gift you brought along. And then you introduce the man next to you, a bright smile on your face as you watch them shake hands. 

Something vile rises within Taehyung at the sight. He knows he has no right to feel like this but something about the way you’re introducing this random guy to you and Taehyung’s shared friends doesn’t sit right with him. It used to be you and him, attending every get-together together. You always arrived hand in hand, all smiles and good vibes because nothing could stop the two of you from touching each other, from being attached at all times – from being in love.

“Jia didn’t mention anything about a new boyfriend,” Jimin mutters from next to Taehyung. The annoyed glare he shoots at his best friend causes Jimin to shrug innocently, “I mean – I think, of all people, she would know if ____ was seeing someone.”

Jia is a shared friend between you and Jimin. While Jia is one of your best friends, Jia and Jimin are more than friends but not quite enough to be considered a couple. They will get there eventually – Jimin just needs to get his head out of his own ass and ask the poor girl on a date instead of only showing up at her doorstep for some fun in bed. Jia is waiting patiently for him to make the next move but Jimin isn’t that smart when it comes to serious relationships.

“Don’t you have something else to do rather than talking my ear off about my ex and her date?”

The bitterness on Taehyung’s tongue feels odd but he can’t help it. He hasn’t seen you once in two years after you left that night and now you’re here, looking beautiful as ever with another man by your side. 

Jealousy has never been something Taehyung cared much for. He never had a reason to but as you let your date wrap an arm around your waist to pull you closer, the jealousy washes away every rational thought he’s had since he saw you walk through the door.

Jimin mumbles something under his breath before he disappears from Taehyung’s side, leaving him to stand there while rolling the glass of whiskey in his hand, dark and glaring eyes shooting daggers at the man you brought along tonight.

However, it seems his glare from across the room also grazes you as you turn your head to look around. Taehyung’s breath hitches in his throat when your eyes meet his and he can tell you let out a gasp once you realize just who exactly you’re locking eyes with. Your date asks you if something’s wrong and you shake your head in response, telling him it’s nothing.

Taehyung’s body heats up with a familiar tingling feeling that feels all too normal and yet it’s a strange sensation. He hasn’t felt what he just felt in two years, the different women he’s slept with or been out with have never once caused warmth and excitement to spread through his entire body as the ones he just felt. Not a single woman has managed to trigger Taehyung’s interest in more than just a one-night-stand.

But, of course, it’s you.

Who else would light a fire in his soul but the same woman who blew it out a few years ago?

The irony almost makes Taehyung huff out an unimpressed chuckle. He fights it and pushes it back but it's no use as you decide to raise your hand and give him a small wave, a hesitant smile on your lips as you do. Taehyung lets the chuckle leave him, shaking his head in disbelief, watching your smile falter into a soft frown.

You left him.

You walked out of the door two years ago and dropped off earth’s surface until tonight. Taehyung only knew you were alive and well thanks to social media and your circle of shared friends, not that it was much help. His so-called friends weren't very cooperative every time he’d ask about you. Especially when he would visit Jimin and Jia would be there – that woman kept all the news about you behind locked lips whenever Taehyung was around.

So, when it really comes down to it, Taehyung has no idea what you've been doing for two years. All he knows is that you went overseas to live and work there, making the distance between you and him bigger than he’d expected when he watched you walk out of the home you once shared. Taehyung doesn’t understand why you bolted out of the country as soon as you could – what you went looking for, he doesn’t know. Probably no one knows – except for your parents maybe. 

All Taehyung is hoping for is that he wasn’t the reason.

Thoughts like ‘how long have you been seeing this guy’ and ‘did you even think about me once while you were overseas, living a brand new life’ fill Taehyung’s head as he downs the rest of his drink. He steals one last glance at you, catching your eyes for a split-second before heading towards the kitchen of this penthouse apartment he currently finds himself in. He can feel your eyes on him as he slips his way through other guests but he keeps his own eyes focused on the whiskey bottle he spots on the kitchen island.

Once he reaches it, he uncaps it and pours himself another glass. He takes a swig of the brown liquor, sighing deeply as he feels the strong and burning sensation in his throat. 

“Slow down there, tiger.”

Taehyung freezes in his spot, his glass of whiskey halfway to his lips to take another slurp when a familiar voice fills the kitchen. His chest tightens for a split-second before he turns around to face the person he’s been thinking about non-stop since she left. 

You’re flashing a smile at him when he turns around, one that doesn’t really reach your eyes as your real smile would. He notices because he always notices. It’s one of the many things you can’t hide from him. No matter how much you try to plaster on a fake smile, he’ll always know when it’s real or not. 

When he doesn’t reply to your teasing comment, you pull your lips into a thin line as you cautiously step closer.

He can’t stop staring at you. 

When you left your shared home two years ago on the worst night of Taehyung’s life, he had no idea when he would see you again. Back then he had hoped you’d regret your choice of moving out and come back to him, tell him that you made a mistake, that not being with him was the only thing you couldn’t get yourself to do.

But it never happened – and two years passed.

“How have you been?” You ask, voice small and careful as if you’re afraid he’ll scream at you and throw all his pent up anger at you as the first thing.

Taehyung finally manages to take his eyes off you, shifting them to look at the glass of whiskey in his hand. He swirls the liquid around a few times before looking up again, a faint and slightly sad smile on his face.

“Okay,” he responds. “Given the circumstances, that is.”

He can tell that you know exactly what he means, the frown on your face giving it away. It makes a short chuckle leave his lips because it’s kind of comical how you haven’t seen each other in two years and the first time you meet again is at an engagement party – the type of party you were both so sure you’d throw sooner or later had it not been for the fact that the universe wanted it differently.

“You brought a date,” Taehyung breaks the silence hanging over you.

Your lips part in surprise. You did not expect your ex-boyfriend to ask about your date, but then again, you should’ve seen it coming. 

“Uh, yeah, he’s–” you begin, not sure what or where to start. Taehyung watches you intently, curious to hear your response. You feel a strong urge to explain yourself to him, why you don’t know. “It’s nothing serious– it’s very new, so…”

“I see,” Taehyung hums and takes another sip of his whiskey, the alcohol still burning and strong on his tongue.

“Hey, about–,” you begin but the shake of Taehyung’s head causes you to stay quiet.

“We don’t have to do that,” he simply says. You frown deeply as he glances over your shoulder at your date. “I’m over it and it seems you are too.”

“But–”

“It’s good to see you again, ____.”

With that Taehyung grabs the half empty bottle of whiskey off the table and leaves the kitchen, a breath of relief escaping him. It’s gonna take a lot of alcohol to get through tonight with you being in the same room, so close yet so far – not his to touch or hold, the only thing that is his are the memories of doing exactly that in the past.

And nothing has ever left a more bitter taste in his mouth before.

As the party carries on, Taehyung has been drinking more whiskey. He’s not drunk per say but he’s definitely tipsy and it shows as he stands in a corner alongside Jimin and Namjoon. He’s not paying attention to their conversation, too busy watching you and your date mingling. 

Taehyung is not much for admitting it but he’s been keeping an eye on your date all night, watching how he acts around you. He’s not afraid to touch you, that’s for sure, the constant placement of his hand on your lower back is a giveaway. However, he hasn’t seen the two of you kiss or anything of the sort ever since you arrived. It’s odd because, of all people, Taehyung knows that you’re not one to shy away from PDA. You were never big on it but you never despised it either.

“Tae, stop staring,” Jimin’s voice penetrates his focused thoughts. Taehyung tears his eyes from you to look at his best friend. Jimin gives him a look, one he can’t help but laugh at. Taehyung pushes himself up from his leaning position against the wall, standing to his full height. Jimin grabs his arm. “I’m serious, whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“Relax,” Taehyung smirks. “I’m just gonna introduce myself, that’s it.”

Namjoon shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink, “sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Exactly,” Jimin pointedly agrees with him. “Don’t ruin it.”

Taehyung shrugs off Jimin’s hand, shooting his friends a glare, “I’m not gonna ruin anything.”

Before his friends can try and talk him out of it again, he wanders off towards you and your date – a dark-haired guy who seems friendly, boring even, and nothing like the type of guy Taehyung had imagined you’d go for.

You don’t notice Taehyung’s presence until he’s standing right next to you, offering a hand to your date. Your eyes widen in surprise, eyes shifting between your ex-boyfriend, his offered hand and your date for the night. You can’t help the small sliver of panic within your chest as you watch them interact.

“Hey man, I don’t think we’ve met before,” he greets him, “I’m Taehyung.”

“Jinyoung,” your date replies, giving Taehyung’s hand a weak shake without much thought. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Taehyung smirks, eyeing Jinyoung up and down for a moment, wondering where on earth you managed to run into this guy and why you thought of bringing him to your friends’ engagement party. The majority of the people here know you and once this guy isn’t part of your life anymore, you’ll spend your energy explaining why at the next event.

“Taehyung is, um…” You begin, turning to Jinyoung to provide some information as to why he would suddenly come over and introduce himself like this. “He’s my, uh–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Taehyung finishes for you. He watches in satisfaction as Jinyoung’s eyes widen in surprise, the faint hints of intimidation evident in them. “We broke up two years ago.”

“Oh, well, I had no idea there was an… ex-boyfriend,” Jinyoung trails off, glancing at you in confusion.

Your attention, however, is aimed at Taehyung, “Tae, can we talk–”

“Did you know ____ fled the country after breaking up with me?” Taehyung lets out a sarcastic laugh, watching how Jinyoung almost squirms in discomfort. Bet he didn’t sign up for a meeting with the ex-boyfriend when he said yes to join you tonight. “Is that where she met you or?”

Your jaw tightens as you place a hand on Taehyung’s arm, catching his attention. He glances at your hand and then you, eyes meeting yours. He notices the desperation in them, the grip you have on his arm.

“Can I talk to you under four eyes? Now, please.”

He smiles at you, a tipsy smile but endearing nonetheless.

“Absolutely,” he tells you before glancing back at Jinyoung. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

Jinyoung looks confused and awkward as Taehyung flashes him a fake smile before allowing himself to be dragged away by you. It isn’t until you’re in a secluded corner of your friends’ penthouse, you let go of his arm. Taehyung leans against the wall, a small smirk on his face as you stare at him for a moment before your face morphs into disbelief.

“What the hell was that all about?”

He shrugs, “I was just introducing myself.”

You let out a chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest, “oh, is that what it was? How silly of me to think you were trying to measure your dick with his!”

He huffs out a scoff, rolling his eyes, “oh, sweetheart, I don’t have to and you know it.”

Your mouth falls open at his cocky behavior. Whoever this man in front of you is, you don’t know him. He is not the man you broke up with two years ago, he’s not even a shadow of the man you were hopelessly in love with once. 

Taehyung watches your expression fall as if realization hits you square in the face. His ego covers it up perfectly but it hurts seeing the realization on your face, his heart sinking to his stomach as he realizes himself what you just realized –neither of you are the same people you were two years ago. And for some reason that realization hurts more than he thought it would because change is supposed to be good, right?

“Maybe breaking up with you wasn’t a mistake after all,” you tell him, eyes filled with disappointment and hurt. Taehyung frowns as the words leave your lips. “You’re an asshole.”

“____, I–”

You shake your head before turning on your heel, heading back to Jinyoung who’s been watching the two of you with worried eyes. Taehyung catches Jinyoung’s gaze over your shoulder, the judgemental look he shoots at him bruising his ego. However, the sight of your hand slipping into Jinyoung’s bruises his heart as he watches you and your date bid the engaged couple goodbye before leaving the penthouse.

Hand in hand.

Loud knocking wakes Taehyung up the following morning. He squints an eye open, the bright light coming from the morning sun hitting him straight in the face. He lets out a low groan, dropping his head back into the softness of his pillows. He forgot to pull the curtains when he came home last night. It happens too often after a night out – a bad habit, really.

The knocking disappears for a moment before it returns, more persistent this time around. With a sigh, Taehyung gets himself out of bed, slipping on a t-shirt and sweatpants before sauntering towards his front door.

Who in the world could be rapping their knuckles on his door this early on a sunday morning? 

He glances towards the kitchen, eyes squinting to read the red numbers on the oven. His eyebrows lift in surprise. It’s not morning anymore, it’s past noon and someone is very persistent on the other side of the door. Once he reaches the door, he sneaks a peek through the peephole, breath hitching in his throat when he realizes who’s on the other side. His forehead connects with the surface of the door as a low ‘fuck’ leaves his lips.

Inhaling sharply, he grabs the door handle and pulls the door open.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

Taehyung sees no point in greeting you first, the question flying from his mouth before he can process it properly. He’s surprised to see you on his doorstep after what happened at the engagement party last night. When he came home and plopped into his bed, he had been thinking about whether or not he should seek you out to talk things through. He never got the chance to think further about it before sleep overtook and pulled him under.

“We need to talk,” you tell him, pushing past him, shoulder bumping his.

Taehyung closes the door after you before following you further into his home. You stand by his bookshelf, several feet away from him. He watches you as you look around, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants to keep them from feeling restless. 

“How do you know where I live?” He decides to ask after a moment of intense silence.

You turn to face him from your new spot by the big window, the view from it being of a park with endless rows of trees and bushes, the colors of them ranging from green to brown to orange to yellow. 

“Jimin told me,” you tell him, “but that’s not important – what the hell was your problem last night?”

Taehyung shrugs, “nothing… I was just introducing myself.”

A sarcastic laugh escapes your pretty lips, a look of amusement on your face.

“Bullshit, Tae,” you protest. “We haven’t seen each other in two years and you pull a stunt like that? It’s not like you.”

He can’t help but scoff.

Not like him? 

It’s not like him to spend two years watching women come and go in his home. It’s not like him to let the woman he loves leave him and not do shit about it for two years. It’s not like him to not care about love at all. It’s not like him to lose all faith and belief in the great love of his life but he did and it’s your fault. You made him what he is today. You up and left, leaving him because ‘things weren’t the way they used to be’. He accepted what you wanted because you were so certain that was what you wanted at the time. He shouldn’t have but he did because he loved you and he’d rather love you from a distance than keep you in a place that didn’t make you happy.

Blaming you isn’t right but it’s always easier to blame someone else than yourself.

“I pulled a stunt?” The anger that’s starting to boil within him laces within his voice as he moves closer. Your eyes are locked with his as he slowly moves across the room, nearing you. “You’re the one who brought a fucking date, _____! You knew I would be there and yet you thought ‘hey, let me bring a date and introduce him to everyone there while my ex is in the same fucking room’!”

You let out a frustrated groan.

“It’s been two years, Taehyung! For all I know, you could’ve brought someone too!”

The frustration is seeping through his veins as he steps closer, only a few feet from you at this point. You’re close and he can touch you if he just reaches his hands out to you but you’ve never felt farther away. Had he known two years ago that it would come to this, he wouldn’t have let you walk out of the door that night. He would’ve fought for you, told you that you would figure things out together. That he would do his utmost best to make you happy – no matter the sacrifices he would have to make.

“Do you know how fucking miserable I’ve been for the past two years? Do you know how many times I’ve asked about you only to get no answers from anyone?”

The guilt is evident on your face as he takes the risk and steps even closer. He can feel the warmth radiating off your body now, the close proximity doing nothing to calm his thundering heart.

“Have you ever, just for a second, thought about how fucking hard it’s been after you left and fled the fucking country?”

You let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t–”

Taehyung can’t fight the dry laugh leaving him, “I begged you to stay, ____. I was begging you but you left anyway and for what?”

He watches as you shrug helplessly, mouth opening and closing while you try to decipher what to say, how to explain. He would appreciate an explanation – ‘things aren’t the way they used to be’ isn’t enough anymore.

“I… I had some stuff I needed to figure out,” you mutter.

“We could’ve figured it out together!” He argues, hands thrown out in pure frustration.

The shake of your head has Taehyung frowning deeply. You look away, unable to watch the way his face falls as the words leave your lips, “I couldn’t love you the way you deserved. I had to leave. It was what was best for us back then–”

“No,” he mutters, voice soft and filled with sorrow, “you don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”

You feel him step back, taking his warmth with him. He sits down on the couch, running a hand through his hair as an exasperated sigh leaves his chest. You cross your arms over your chest; the act doing nothing to comfort yourself but doing enough to keep yourself warm after he removed himself from right in front of you. 

Unsure, what to do, you sit down on the window pane, watching the man you used to be inseparable from. He looks tired and not because you forced him out of bed by knocking on his door. He looks like the past two years have been nothing but hell for him – and you believe it. Leaving him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done but it was necessary in order to find yourself.

“I didn’t tell you everything,” you quietly tell him, eyes dropping to look at the wooden floor instead of him.

You feel his eyes on you, heavy and filled with longing, hurt and love.

“I knew you’d never let me go if I told you everything,” you continue when he stays silent. “I lost myself, Tae… And I knew as long as I wasn’t at peace with myself, I wouldn’t be able to love you the way you deserved.”

You take a chance and look up, your eyes meeting his in an instant. You feel your heart skip a beat, a pain so strong it’s almost unbearable shooting through your body. Taehyung’s eyes are glossy as he watches you make your way to where he sits on the couch. You kneel in front of him, your hands finding his in a weak attempt to comfort him but you know nothing could possibly remove the two years of pain and anger he’s been through.

He stays quiet, eyes skimming your face as you sit in front of him.

“Leaving you is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” you softly tell him and feel a tightness in your throat. You bite back the tears but your voice betrays you as you speak up again. “And while… While trying to figure my shit out, I realized that you and I–”

Taehyung’s hands engulf yours, fingers slipping through yours to intertwine them. Pain is etched onto his face as you sniffle, one of his hands reaching up to wipe away the one teardrop that managed to escape just now.

“I realized that you and I were the only thing in my life that actually made sense but it was too late.”

“Baby…” Taehyung begins, the nickname leaving him before he can think about it and the appropriateness of it.

You shake your head, “I left you, Tae. I left and, like you said, I fled the country like a coward when all I had to do was talk to the people around me and find another way.”

The tears won’t stop coming at this point and it’s then Taehyung realizes that it was never about him. It has always been about you and how you felt; not your feelings for him but for yourself. If only you had talked to him, reached out to him and asked for help – he would’ve stepped in and done whatever it would take to make you happy again.

“I’m really sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you,” you cry, the sheer realization of just how much unnecessary pain you’ve caused him seems like the worst thing you ever could’ve done. You hurt the man you love and now it’s hurting you – well-deserved one might say. “God, you must hate me so much.”

“No, hey,” Taehyung calls softly, cupping your face and wiping your tears away. You look up at him, tear-filled eyes meeting his glossy ones. He smiles at you through the build-up tears in his dark brown eyes. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“But–”

He shakes his head, “sure, I’m pissed at you for leaving. But I could never hate you, _____.”

The way he says it with such tenderness and softness makes your bottom lip quiver, fresh tears coming to the surface but it’s not an issue – Taehyung wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs, smiling softly at you. Why he’s comforting you rather than kicking you out of his home is a mystery to you, one you probably won’t ever solve. But you’ll take it, the feeling of his hands touching you again similar to the feeling of finally drinking water again after spending days in the desert. Or when you finally get to sleep after a really, really long and stressful day.

Comforting. Healing. Loving. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly say, voice so quiet and soft as if the atmosphere would break into a million pieces if you spoke any louder. Your heart is beating hard, thundering at 110 miles per hour. Taehyung is leaning closer, a magnetic pull between him and you causing him to do so. It’s impossible to stay away, especially after you sat down in front of him.

Taehyung huffs out a soft chuckle, the air brushing your lips. He whispers, “stop apologizing.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, causing Taehyung to let another chuckle escape before softly, carefully pressing his lips to yours. 

The world stops spinning and your heart stops beating for a second, the feeling of Taehyung’s lips on yours so familiar you might start crying again. It’s like returning home after years of chaotic traveling, the familiarity of it so comforting and perfect. You sigh deeply, melting against him, hands gripping his forearms as if to support yourself. Then a soft moan escapes you and Taehyung tilts his head to deepen the kiss, tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping inside and touching yours, warm and wet and so addicting.

In need of more, you get up and push him back on the couch. He welcomes you onto his lap, pulling you closer, hands gripping your waist tightly, fingertips digging into your sides. The kisses you share are soft, passionate, and filled with words and affection you’ve kept inside for two years. Things you never got to say and affection you never got to show – all of it being poured into the kisses, deep and scorching hot.

Your arms lock around his neck, pulling him so close your noses are squishes together. He moans against your lips when your hips sink down on him, grinding against him. He feels himself grow harder, blood rushing to his cock in seconds as you continue your movements. 

“Tae…” You whimper softly when his hands slide underneath your top, warm palms sliding over the expanse of your back, nails digging into your skin. “Need you– please…”

In reality, you’re not his to touch and kiss. You haven’t been for two years. When this weekend is over, you’ll both go back to your everyday lives, return to reality – realities where neither of you are in each other’s. 

“What about Jinyoung?” Taehyung can’t help but ask, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“He went back home this morning,” you tell him, your words causing a sliver of hope to appear in Taehyung’s chest. You smile softly, fingers playing with the curly strands of black hair at the back of his neck. You shrug with a sigh, “he asked about us, I told him the truth. He left.”

“What truth?”

The question is careful but Taehyung needs to know.

“That I’m still in love with you,” you quietly admit.

If you can’t feel the harsh beating of Taehyung’s heart, you surely must be able to hear it. It’s pounding against his rib cage, making it hard for him to breathe as he stares at you. A million thoughts are running through his mind but the only thing he can focus on is the overwhelming urge to kiss you like the world is ending, worship you and make up for lost time.

“I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me for what I did,” you softly say. “But I hope you’ll give me a chance to-“

Taehyung cuts you off by crashing his mouth to yours; desperate, needy, eager and rushed. A whimpering moan escapes you and travels into his mouth, goosebumps rising upon his skin at the pretty sound.

“I forgive you,” he says between kisses as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders. You help him get rid of it, lips never leaving his as you continue to kiss. You have two years to catch up on – two years equals a lot of kisses and a lot of making love. You inhale deeply when he pulls away, hand gripping your jaw to make you look at him. His eyes stare into yours, dark and filled with so many emotions you can barely keep track. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You shake your head, “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good,” he whispers before pulling you back in for more, unable to stop for long.

The next clothing items to go are your top and his t-shirt as you tug it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor along with your jacket. Taehyung lets out a breathless moan against your mouth when you slide your hands up his abdomen, fingertips brushing over his chest and nipples. He groans as your nails dig into his skin, hands tightly gripping onto your thighs in a wordless response.

“Lay down,” he tells you, voice raspy from making out.

With one last soft kiss to his lips, you do as told. You lay down on the couch, watching him as he gets up on his feet, getting rid of his sweatpants. His eyes roam your body, grazing your skin and curves, taking it all in while feeling a wave of memories washing over him. It brings a feeling he can’t quite pinpoint to his chest, heart tightening as you offer him a soft smile.

Home.

That’s what he feels.

He finally feels at home again after two years of feeling like he didn’t belong in this new apartment of his; an apartment he found a few months after you left. He couldn’t stand being in the one you used to share because it didn’t feel like a home anymore. It’s when you sit up on the couch, your hand reaching for his to bring him back to you, that he realizes that no place will ever feel like home unless you’re there.

You’re his home – he belongs with you.

And you belong with him.

“Come back to me,” you whisper softly when he crawls onto the couch, hovering over you. His eyes shift between yours, three words he hasn’t said out loud to anyone but you at the tip of his tongue. “Tae…–”

“I love you.”

Your words get trapped in your throat, heart beating wildly in your chest as the three magical words bring a new kind of warmth to your entire body.

“I love you too.”

The rest is a blur – the way he kisses you deeply and passionately like it’s the last time, the sound of your pretty moans reaching his ears like a melody he’ll never get tired of, the feeling of his hands on your body, caressing you, taking you in and remembering everything about you; every dip and curve of your body. Every uneven texture of your skin, every dimple and small spot that makes you you.

“You’re mine,” he rasps against your chest as he trails it with kisses, your bra no longer covering you, giving him free access to all of you. His lips brush your nipple, another delicate moan escaping your lips at the feeling. “You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?”

“Yes– Oh my god,” You gasp, surprise shooting through you as he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking. Your back arches into him as one of his hands cups the other breast, squeezing and caressing it in the most caring way possible.

That’s the thing about Taehyung – he can be rough both verbally and physically but he knows how you like it and he never strays far away from it. He’ll caress your body and worship it like you’re a goddess while arousing you with his words, dirty words falling from his lips without a struggle. It’s the perfect mix of everything; the best of both worlds basically.

You whimper softly when he tugs at your nipple with his teeth before letting go, leaving it wet and swollen as he moves further down your naked body. Your legs spread automatically when he reaches your core, his mouth hovering above your heat as he glances up at you. A small smirk spreads across his face as he watches you run your hands over your stomach and all the way up to cup your own breasts. You bite your lip, eyes closed as you await his touch.

“Tell me, baby,” he hums, leaving a soft kiss on your hip bone. “Did you miss this?”

You hum in response, fingers pinching your nipples as you feel his breath on your core.

“Words,” he reminds you, “I need your words.”

Your eyes peep open to glance down at him, the sight of him between your legs, messy and curly hair and swollen, plump lips twisted into a teasing smirk enough to cause you to let out a soft moan.

“Yes,” you tell him, breathlessly. “I missed you, missed your touch– please, Tae…”

The sound of you begging for him to touch you causes a feeling of pride to fill his entire body, the smirk on his face turning into a grin. He hums in satisfaction, leaning down to press a soft, careful kiss to your folds. You whimper softly, the hints of whine following.

“I’ll be honest,” the air from his words brushes your soaked core, a shiver running through your body. His hands tighten around your thighs as he brings them over his shoulders to pull you closer to his face. “I missed having you like this, too.”

Before you can even think of a response to his confession, his mouth is on you. You gasp in surprise, hands reaching for him to grab his hair, the couch, his hand – anything. Taehyung offers one of his hands, locking it with yours. Your fingers slip between his, your grip tight as he eats you out, his tongue licking your folds. You’re whimpering above him, the feeling of his tongue flicking your clit over and over again before he sucks it causing your moans to become higher and more whiny as he works you closer to the edge.

“Fuck,” you cry, thighs trembling as you feel your orgasm coming. Taehyung keeps your legs spread open with his free hand, his grip on you so strong you’re unable to escape the overwhelming feeling of an orgasm. “Tae, I’m close– fuckfuckfuck–”

An immense wave of pleasure washes over you, a guttural moan leaving your pretty lips as you tumble over the edge, abdomen tightening as you come. Taehyung moans against you as he continues to help you through it, licking up your juices, the slurping noises lewd and explicit enough to bring a heat to your face.

You’re trying to catch your breath, a smile on your face as Taehyung crawls back up. You sigh deeply as he leans down and presses a row of kisses onto your jaw and cheek, one of his hands sliding up your thigh.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, face inches from yours as his eyes meet yours.

You nod, smiling, “I feel great.”

He smiles softly as he leans down, connecting his mouth with yours. You’re able to taste yourself on his tongue as it brushes yours, the taste arousing and dirty but so hot, you might lose your mind.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groans as he grinds against you, the only thing keeping him from slipping inside being his boxers. His cock twitches in its confinements, eager to be let free, eager to be buried deeply within your warmth. “Wanna make love to you, baby– show you how much I’ve missed you…”

“Do it, Tae,” you urge him on, hands reaching for the waistband of his boxers, “show me.”

With his help, you manage to free his hard cock, his boxers ending up on the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes. Your hand wraps around his length, a soft groan escaping his lips as he drops his head to your shoulder. You pump him a few times before guiding the tip to your entrance, softly gasping when you feel it nested between your folds.

Taehyung takes over, replacing your hand with his own. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, lips catching his in a kiss. He takes this as his chance to slip inside, pushing against your entrance until he’s past your folds. You both moan against each other’s mouth as he sinks inside, the length and girth of him stretching you out. He moves slowly, sliding further inside inch after inch, carefully.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans once he bottoms out, every inch of him engulfed by your warm walls. His breathing is ragged as he stays still for a moment. “I’ll never get used to this.”

You smile at his comment, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Well, you better,” you tell him. “Because this time it’s forever.”

His heart skips a beat in his chest before he huffs out a strained laugh, the feeling of your walls tightening around him making it difficult for him to get words out.

“Is that a challenge or a promise?”

You shrug and smirks playfully, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “a challenging promise.”

He scoffs in amusement but doesn’t say anything in return. Instead he pulls out, leaving just the tip inside before thrusting back inside of you, hard and precise. The action leaves you gasping, back arching as he hits a sweet spot within you. He continues the action, pulling out and thrusting back in over and over again, fucking you hard but slow, his shaft brushing against your clit for every thrust.

“Fuck– feels good,” you whimper as he hooks a hand underneath your leg to change the angle of his thrusts. Your mouth falls open as he slides in even deeper, his tip hitting that sweet spot repeatedly.

“Yeah?” He watches you nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you suppress a moan. “Did he ever have you like this, huh? Did he ever make you feel like this?”

Taehyung knows expecting you to not have been with anyone since you broke up is a long stretch. The only thing that bothers him is if you’ve been with the one man he met and talked to last night. The thought of you and him together brings a bitter taste to his mouth and he just needs you to deny it.

The sudden possessive tone of his words has your heart beating faster. He doesn’t have to mention any name for you to know who he’s referring to. Like you said when you first talked to Taehyung at the party, you and Jinyoung’s relationship was nothing serious, very new and not intimate at all. You had barely kissed him properly – something held you back every time it would take a turn into something more.

The look in Taehyung’s eyes tells you he needs to know. He needs to know if you ever gave that part of yourself to Jinyoung.

“No,” you tell him, keeping eye contact as you answer him, hoping it’ll give him the peace of mind that he needs. Taehyung’s face softens as he lets his forehead drop to yours, his breath clashing against your face. You cup his face, thumbs brushing over his jawline where faint stubble is starting to appear. “He didn’t.”

The relief that runs through Taehyung’s body is evident in his kiss as he connects his mouth with yours, his free hand reaching up to grab one of yours. He intertwines your hands, bringing it above your head as he returns to the task at hand – getting you both to the edge. 

The constant touch of his tip to a certain spot within you has you reaching another orgasm faster than you’re prepared for. It washes over you in huge waves, running through your body with such force your walls tighten around him. Taehyung moans deeply, his thrusts becoming uneven as he, too, reaches his high. Soft words of encouragement reach his ear as he drops his head to your shoulder. Your fingers slide into his thick, black hair while your other hand tightens its grip around his.

He lowly groans as he stills within you, spurts of hot and white cum painting your walls as he comes, “shit–”

Hours later you’re watching Taehyung’s fingers play with yours as he holds your hand up in the air, both of you watching it as a comfortable silence surrounds you. It’s nice – to be cuddled up with him again after so long. You didn’t realize just how much you had missed him until you saw him last night. But despite the blissful atmosphere, there’s still an underlying tension of something that you need to talk about. Whether it’s your guilt for leaving or his regret for not fighting more is unknown.

“I wish I could go back in time,” you suddenly break the silence.

“Why do you say that?”

Taehyung brings your hand down, intertwining them instead as he leaves them to lay on top of the blanket covering your naked bodies. You continue to stare at your intertwined hands, wondering how it’s possible to match so perfectly with someone only for you to leave for two years despite them being where you belong.

“I wish I could go back and do it differently.”

Taehyung stays quiet for a moment before speaking up, “you can’t change the past, baby.”

His voice is delicate and soft, comforting.

“I know,” you sigh. “I just hate that I caused you so much pain. It was unnecessary and uncalled for. I should’ve just talked to you about it instead.”

“I think a lot of things could’ve been avoided if we had just talked about it but like I said… You can’t change the past,” he carefully grabs your chin to make you look at him. “Besides, we found our way back, right? We got a second chance at this, at us. Let’s make the best of it, yeah?”

A smile spreads across your face as you lean up and kiss him, the kiss soft yet deep and filled with the things you still haven’t said; apologies, I love you’s, promises and everything in between.

Taehyung sighs deeply against your lips, cupping your face, “I missed kissing you.”

You can’t help but grin against his mouth, “keep doing it then.”

“Oh, I’m planning on it,” he tells you, a squeal escaping you as he rolls over, trapping you beneath him. He dips down and kisses you again, this time with more force and eagerness.

That great love in life that everyone keeps talking about is really not worth much if it’s not with the right person. Taehyung used to believe that there was only one true love for everyone. Two years ago, he lost all belief in that. There was no point in looking for that great, true love because he already had it and he lost it. And even if there is more than one true love for everyone, he wouldn’t want it if it’s not you.

It seems his beliefs have been restored.

all rights reserved © mercurygguk, 2022. copying and/or reposting any of my work on any platform is NOT allowed. translations are NOT allowed.

#fic: iiny #taehyung #taehyung smut #kim taehyung #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung exes to lovers #bts bangtan #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #bangtan family #kpop #kpop smut #smut #fluff #angst #taehyung x female reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts x female reader #kth #bts kth #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic

[bro-atz]

friends to lovers to strangers [trope — hongjoong]

inspired by: periwinkle — short story + genesis — smau by @songmingisthighs

word count: 3.3k

content: angst, smut, kitchen sex, gradual heartbreak, ofc joong chooses his career over you, completely consensual (sex)!

author's note: periwinkle was a short story i wrote for my ex-best friend many years ago... i have no idea if this is just as devastating, but i tried my best to make it as heartbreaking as periwinkle. if you ever wanna read periwinkle, lmk and i might just post it here

trope masterlist | part one | part two

It wasn’t romantic at first. It was very friendly. You met Hongjoong at one of your friend’s parties— Mingi loved celebrating the randomest things, and you usually avoided his parties due to said randomness, but you finally went, and that was when you met Hongjoong.

He was very different from what you were expecting. Well, you didn’t know that you were going to meet him that day, but based off Mingi’s personality (and the personalities of a lot of his friends), Hongjoong was the oddest one out. He was calm, collected, watched his limits while drinking instead of downing everything in sight, and he was a lot of fun to talk to.

The first night you met him, you spent a lot of time just trash-talking Mingi and his friends. You didn’t hate them, per se, but it was so easy to make fun of their dumbass decisions, and just reminiscing and sharing stories about them was a lot of fun. Honestly, if it weren’t for Hongjoong, you probably would have never gone to another one of Mingi’s parties.

You and Hongjoong bonded fast. Granted, you only ever talked to him when you met him at parties, but you spent a lot of the time at those parties together. You would drink, share stories about your childhood, and he would drink and tell you thing about his brother, who you grew to like just by hearing those stories of his.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” you prodded Hongjoong’s shoulder one night when you were particularly tipsy. “You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, I do. What about it?”

“Why don’t you ever text me to hang out? I feel like it’d be fun to talk during the day, too,” you pouted.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I was waiting for you to text first,” Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s easier to work around your schedule since you work that nine to five as an HR associate—”

“HR director now, actually! I got promoted.”

“Wow! Congratulations,” Hongjoong beamed at you, his gummy smile more of a compliment than his words. “But, see, you’re super dedicated to your job, and my sleep schedule is usually fucked since I spend so much time at the studio—”

“Right! Because you’re a composer,” you said a little too loudly. “Right.”

“But I promise,” Hongjoong took your hand. “Text me, and we’ll make plans during the day.”

“You promise? You promise to actually make plans with me instead of sleep through them like some people?” you asked while nodding your head over to Mingi who was busy doing shots out of the bartender’s belly button.

“I promise.”

Hongjoong stuck to his promise. It was honestly really fucking difficult to make plans with him, but he said he would make it for coffee at least once a week, and that he did. Talking to him during the daytime was a lot more pleasant than you expected. You were a little worried that you enjoyed his company only while you were drunk because you only ever talked to him when you had a couple shots in you, but he proved to be great conversation outside of the party scene as well.

You texted him frequently, asking him if he wanted to go for coffee or watch a movie— anything just to spend time with him. You truly loved spending time with him, and he, you. You had never felt so comfortable with another human being in your entire life before, and every single time you met with him, he just exceeded your expectations further.

“Okay, tell me,” you were on the phone with him trying to make plans. “What movie do you want to see?”

“Sleepless in Seattle,” he responded.

You blinked and frowned. There were many things about his response that threw you for a curve. For one thing, you thought you were going to go to a movie theater; another was that Sleepless in Seattle was an old movie, so the only way you were going to be able to watch that is if you went to his apartment or he came to yours; and the last thing was that Sleepless in Seattle was a romantic comedy, and Hongjoong definitely did not seem to be the type to enjoy movies like that.

“I… Uh,” you cleared your throat. “I have many questions.”

“I’ll be happy to answer them, but it’ll have to be later. I gotta finish this up real quick. Just come to my place by seven, okay?”

You could barely accept his conditions before he hung up abruptly. Sleepless in Seattle in Hongjoong’s apartment it was.

Honestly, his choice of movie was enough for you to get a hint of what he was trying to say to you, but you doubted it slightly when you saw him paying so much attention to the soundtrack, only for those doubts to vanish when he silently moved closer to you, his shoulder pressing against yours as you both pretended to focus on the movie.

“Hey, Y/N, I was curious…” Hongjoong whispered. “Have you ever thought about... You know… How comfortable our friendship is?”

“I mean, I do sometimes,” you admitted.

“And… Do you ever wonder…”

You turned your head and made eye contact with him. Honestly, you never really got a good look at Hongjoong’s face until right then and there. His eyes were slightly widened as he looked at you, and his lips were parted ever-so-slightly to the point where you could catch a brief glimpse of his beautiful teeth— and, God, his perfectly shaped nose. You felt your chest tighten the longer you looked at him, all of the words in your vocabulary getting caught up in the traffic jam in your chest.

Neither of you uttered a word. The credits rolled in the background as your lips pressed against Hongjoong’s gently, his hand slowly reaching up to brush your hair away from your face and tuck the strays behind your ear. He kissed you slowly but sensually, the feeling of his lips encompassing yours making your entire body warm up with what you could only describe as affection.

It was safe to say that your friendship was pretty much shot to hell after that kiss, but it didn’t matter since you found a lover in your friend. People always said to find a friend in your lover, but the other way around was just as good from what you could tell.

“Okay, so for dinner,” you started explaining as you stood in Hongjoong’s kitchen. “I was thinking either pasta or chicken.”

“What about chicken pasta?” Hongjoong asked as he entered his kitchen and stood alongside you, the two of you staring into the refrigerator at the groceries he had left.

“Sure, we can do that,” you mused out loud as you thought about different ways you could pair the two.

“Yay,” Hongjoong cheered quietly before hugging you from behind. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

Hongjoong rocked you back and forth as he continued to embrace you before swaying side to side. You held onto Hongjoong’s arms and closed your eyes as you let him guide this music-less dance. He spun you around and held you as he continued to move around the kitchen and hum a pretty little melody.

He stopped hugging you, his hands immediately searching for yours. He held your hands and began dancing properly with you, the melody from his soul getting louder. He didn’t sing any lyrics, just the tune of the song— a song he was most likely composing. The smile on your face only got wider as you looked at Hongjoong and his cheesy, beautiful grin, little giggles and sighs dissipating in the romantic atmosphere in the kitchen.

Spontaneity was Hongjoong’s favorite thing, which was something you noticed in your friendship with him that only got more intense when you started dating. He loved to whisk you away for romantic date nights, trips to the movies— once, you were craving deep-fried Oreos and mentioned it passively, but he went all the way to your favorite candy shop and got it for you without even batting an eyelash.

And of course, his favorite thing was spontaneous sex.

“Sweetheart,” Hongjoong whispered when the two of you gradually stopped dancing. “Do you want to maybe make dinner later…?”

“Won’t you be hungry after, though?”

“I’m hungry right now,” Hongjoong was quick to answer, his eyes narrowing and his skin slowly reddening.

He grabbed your waist and kept you close to him, his actions still soft, but the intensity in his eyes getting stronger the closer you pressed against him. There was no stopping Hongjoong now. The second you gave Hongjoong a tiny nod, he grabbed your waist and sat you down on the marble dining table.

“Strip, but keep the apron on,” he told you before heading into his bedroom to grab a condom.

You didn’t think Hongjoong had a kitchen sex fantasy, but you weren’t questioning— the look on his face got you all sorts of hot and bothered; so much so that you definitely wanted him more than he wanted you.

Hongjoong returned with the condom on, and the second he stood in front of you, he pushed your shoulder down so that you were laying down on the the surface, your legs dangling off the edge. Hongjoong hovered above you and lifted your apron slightly, his cock barely grazing your clit as he rubbed against the outside of your cunt. Your knees trembled with the feeling, making you hold onto his forearms, your grip on him getting more intense with his every movement.

“Joong,” you sighed out. “I just want you in me already.”

“You and me both, sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you,” Hongjoong said, the tip rubbing against your folds a little more vigorously.

Once Hongjoong deemed you wet enough, he pushed into you slowly, your walls stretching slowly, sensually. A pleasureful sigh danced on your lips as Hongjoong’s cock started to give you the relief you needed.

Hongjoong moved his arm out of your grasp so that he could stand upright grab the fabric of your apron and bunch it in his clutches, leaving your breasts exposed as he did so. His hands played with your breasts as he started moving, his waist rolling into yours. He either rubbed circles on your nipples with his thumbs or held your breasts tightly as he kept a steady pace with his thrusts.

You were biting your lower lip and letting out little gasps and sighs the more he explored your body with his hands. The marble of the countertop was starting to heat up under your flaming hot body, sweat starting to cover your forehead and arms. A single drop of sweat rolled down Hongjoong’s temple, and it dropped onto your cheek when he bent over you again, his face near yours as he leaned in close. He had let go of your breasts at that point and held your thighs to push them closer to you, your lower back starting to lift off the countertop and change the angle at which he was thrusting into you.

“Shit, J-Joong,” you stuttered when you felt his cock rub inside you just right, the heat within you starting to build. “Just like that…”

“Yeah?”

You nodded and licked your lips as you looked into his eyes, your lips craving his. Apparently, he read your look correctly because he was kissing you seconds later, a slight smile appearing on his face the more desperate your kisses became. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and unconsciously began to roll your hips into his, the increased friction bringing you closer to your impending high.

It was when Hongjoong slammed his hips into yours with a force you weren’t anticipating did your body tingle all over. You broke off the kiss and moaned loudly as you came, your legs wrapping around his waist and pressing into him as your pussy convulse and get tighter.

“Sweetheart— Shit— So tight,” Hongjoong hissed.

You for sure thought Hongjoong was going to cum, but instead, he pulled you off the table and spun you around so that your torso was pressed into the cool marble and your legs were barely supporting you as he fucked you from behind.

The feeling of your nipples rubbing against the cool surface and the hot friction inside you made sparks appear every time you blinked, waves of pleasure threatening to swallow you. Hongjoong was holding your ass tightly as he thrust exponentially faster while grunting, his breathing getting shallower.

Without warning, Hongjoong wrapped his arm around you and started circling your clit, overstimulating you like crazy. You flung your head back and cried as you came for the second time, this time Hongjoong coming with you, his own groan overpowering your voice.

You whimpered slightly when you felt Hongjoong pull out, the warmth within you dissipating quickly. You slowly pushed yourself up and watched as Hongjoong took the condom off and threw it away. He returned to you and trapped you against the table, his hands on either side of you and a smile spreading on his face.

“Now, how about dinner?” he asked.

You couldn’t think about dinner— all you could think about was how sexy Hongjoong looked in that moment. His eyes were still filled with lust, and you could see out of the corner of your own eye that his cock was twitching. You kissed him and brought your hand to his dick, your fingers lightly rubbing along his length and making him rock hard all over again.

“Let’s just get food delivered,” you whispered.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hongjoong smiled and kissed you back.

His hands ran through your hair and gripped the roots of your hair as his kiss went from gentle to intense with half a second. The string of intense kisses continued as you wrapped your arms around him, your body pressing into his.

He led you to his bedroom, and the two of you laid on his bed as you continued to kiss, your limbs entangling with each other and the sheets below. A small, happy sigh left the man as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his smile blissful.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Hongjoong.”

Love doesn’t last. Love isn’t strong enough to keep everything from falling apart, and it’s always the little flaws you come to love at first that end up being the reason you can’t do it anymore.

Except, in the case of Hongjoong, it wasn’t a little flaw— it was a huge, glaring one. You’d know about it since the very beginning because he said it himself: his career was everything to him.

Now that the two of you were older, he was putting more time and energy into his music, which meant he was definitely phoning the relationship in. And you wanted to be understanding of him. His career was truly everything to him, but you should be too. After all, the two of you had been dating for a couple years by that point.

“I know that you were in the studio all day, but send a text wouldn’t kill you!” you said loudly, your frustration start to rise to the surface.

“I told you I get no reception in this new studio, Y/N!”

“You could’ve texted me after you got out!”

“I was driving! You want me to text and drive?!”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me.”

You huffed and ran your fingers through your hair, your hands starting to tremble with emotion. You tried your best to rationalize your thoughts, but when you were angry, there was no stopping revealing how you actually felt.

“Do you even care for me, Hongjoong? It seems like all you care about is sitting in the studio and rotting away.”

“Hey, you knew this about me. My career is everything,” Hongjoong’s voice got harder, and you could sense a little resentment in his voice.

“What about me, then? What am I to you?”

“You’re someone I love.”

“Love isn’t enough sometimes, Hongjoong. I don’t just need a bread winner. I need a companion or a friend or literally anything else to keep me company. I’m tired of waking up in an empty bed and going to sleep in an empty bed!”

Hongjoong went silent, and you continued.

“I’m tired of being lonely, Hongjoong. I’m tired of waiting for a text back from you. I’m tired of being neglected… Tell me honestly. Are you even in the studio, or are you out with someone else?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking you if there’s someone else in your life, Hongjoong.”

“That is beyond the line, Y/N. Being upset with me for dedicating my life to my career is one thing, but insinuating that I’m not actually working and spending time with another person is too far.”

“You seem to be defending yourself pretty hard there.”

“How fucking hard should I be defending myself then?! If I don’t say enough, then you accuse me, and if I say too much, then you still accuse me! This mentality— This is toxic.”

“What?!”

“This is toxic! You’re accusing me of cheating on you just because I’ve been acting the same way I’ve been acting since we first met!”

“You used to text me way more back in the past because if you were texting me the in the past the same way you’re texting me now, then this would’ve never happened.”

Then, you stopped. You changed. You changed. You lost sight of yourself in this relationship, and you forgot that you, too, were a career person, but you put your own life on the back burner for a man. You were a stranger to yourself.

“Y/N?”

“I… I need some time to myself. Just… Leave me alone for a bit, okay?”

Those were the last words you ever said to him. You texted him occasionally to check in on him, but he was still horrible at responding, and after some time, you dropped it. It was over. Neither of you had to officially declare it, but you both knew that it was over.

You focused on your career. While you were dating Hongjoong, you were kind of standing still in your career as an HR coordinator, not really looking to move up the ladder. After you broke up, though, you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into your job, and after about five years, you were up for a VP position. You had bounced between different companies over those years, and finally, you landed that position at a talent agency.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Hongjoong was signed under that talent agency, and you didn’t know that until you started working there.

You were walking through the halls when you saw him standing and chatting to one of the singers under your agency. Your heart sank upon seeing him, and it only got worse from there when you saw their fingers intertwined. His gummy smile which was once yours was now dedicated to the singer in front of him, and eyes sparkled. Your heart officially hit the ground when you saw him glance in your direction, that sparkle immediately vanishing.

Neither of you uttered a word. You cleared your throat and walked past with your head held high, and right before you rounded the corner, you looked behind you to see if he was looking at you, but no. He was in his own world with his new girl.

You were not only a stranger to yourself, but you had become one to him as well.

trope masterlist

trope taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @aaasia111 @sunshineangel-reads @hwallazia @dazzlingstarrs @hyukssunflower @yunhogrippers @oreoqueen @xhexy

network: @cromernet

apply for the taglist here!

#Spotify #ateez #kim hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong ateez #hongjoong ateez #kim hongjoong smut #broatz #trope ateez #trope series #ateez smut #ateez angst #hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong angst #cromernet

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

#if you're wondering why i didn't include the wfc trilogy it's because those shows fucking suck and i hate them LMAO #transformers #maccadams #megop #edited after the fact to include the new comics lol

[hotgirlstiles]

Derek gets deeply pissed off when someone says smn like "how didn't you kill Stiles yet? he's so annoying and he's babbling all the time. how can you stand to be with him? aren't you embarrassed when he talks nonsense?" bc what the fuck do you mean he's embarrassed?

He's not annoyed or frustrated, because he likes hearing Stiles talk, he likes that Stiles feels comfortable around him enough to let his conscious flow free. He loves it, bc he sees how Stiles shuts up in the presence of his dad, he knows that he's the only one since Claudia who actually listens to what Stiles says.

And he hates when Stiles hears those things bc he shuts off and doesn't talk for days and Derek has to grab him by his face and growl "fucking talk to me" and shake him a little. And Stiles explodes and cries and they have sex and then everything is normal again.

OH YM GOD YESSS./ HEDWIG OH MY GOD. this is so crazy cause i once had a post about how stiles' exes/previous relationship has definitely done the "kisses you to shut you up" thing especially when he's rambling and stuff so when he's finally with derek, he FULLY expects derek to do the same. like to the point that he sometimes suddenly goes quiet because no one has ever let him ramble this long and surely derek isn't even listening anymore??? except. except derek looks up from whatever he's doing and perfectly follows up on whatever stiles has been saying and even says some super specific things he's said bc guess what! guess what! derek hale IS the most perfect boyfriend and he LOVES stiles. to death!!!

"He loves it, bc he sees how Stiles shuts up in the presence of his dad, he knows that he's the only one since Claudia who actually listens to what Stiles says." GODDDDDDD. I JUST KNOW YOU WERE SMIRKING SO EVIKLLY. YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE GONNA DO TO ME WITH THIS SENTENCE CHRIST. i forgot what fics i read this once but claudia being the only one who can keep up with stiles' talking and random changes of topic. the sheriff who can't even keep up with stilesclaudia's conversations. the sheriff who has definitely, at one point after claudia's death, told stiles to shut up because claudia is dead and no one's gonna listen to him anymore............

i just. oh my7 god. i have so much fucking emotions about stiles' rambly self and derek absolutely loving it and keeping track of everything and LISTENING. like derek hale is a listener he LISTENS!!!! sometimes he even shocks stiles because he'd randomly open up a conversation by recalling stiles has said daysss or weeks ago and acting like they were just talking abt it. like he knows how much stiles loves talking abt his interests or abt anything in the sun it's so. he just loves him so much

i jsut love the idea that derek knows stiles is often annoying and rambly but that's HIS annoying and rambjly human. he loves him BECAUSE he's annoying and rambly, because he's who exactly derek needs..... he'd absolutely punch someone for saying all that shit abt stiles honestly he's just so perfect

#answered #sterek #i genuinyl feel sick to my sotmach #THIS. THIS IS JUST #IM SOOO PASSIONATE ABT THIS ASPECT OF STEREK #LIKE I WHOLEHEARTEDLY BELIEVE STILES BELIEVES THAT DEREK IS THE TYPE TO SHUT HIM UP BY KISSING HIM #and ok maybe SOMETIMES derek does it but he does it during arguments or debates during pack meetings #but when he's just mindlessly rambling??? derek doesnt oh goddd he loves stiles voice and talking too much #and thats honestly why derek is jsut so so different from stiles' exes