#fic: the devil has come home

[castieltrash1]

the devil has come home → charlie w.

summary → during one of your regular movie nights, charlie asks to take your relationship a step forward

word count → 3.4k

warnings → smut; virgin!charlie x f!reader, oral, literally an entire fic dedicated to charlie eating pussy idk what u want me to say, dirty talk, switch!charlie, established relationship, almost fingering, premature ejaculation, cumming untouched, overstimulation, and hair pulling

a/n → everyone and their mother is in their rory culkin era rn so here u go, whores (affectionate) <3 no but fr i watched scream 4 the other day and knew what i had to do so pls enjoy xoxo

+ bonus points to whoever can figure out the title ;)

---

Charlie shifts beside you, gnawing at his bottom lip to restrain the interruption on the tip of his tongue.

“Did you know,” he suddenly begins, unable to stop himself. “That the school is actually called Ewen High in the book?” On the screen in front of you, a meek Carrie White stumbles through the library in a scene oddly similar to your boyfriend’s own reclusive attitude, and you drag your tired eyes to meet his; wide, with an excited glint reflecting off their pale blue hue. “They renamed it in the adaptation as a nod to Psycho.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised. “I don’t think you’ve told me that one yet.” The comment, while honest, makes Charlie flustered, and he unconsciously shifts closer to the opposite end of the couch. “But I like hearing about all the facts you know,” you reassure his silent insecurity, nuzzling closer. Pressing your lips to his shoulder and kissing the soft cotton sleeve of his shirt, you continue, teasing: “Even if I have heard most of them before.” He groans, but his chest rumbles beneath you with his own restrained amusement.

Peering up at Charlie, you prepare for what is bound to be a lengthy explanation. “So, what, it’s like Norman Bates?” you ask, but Charlie simply nods, mumbling a quiet affirmation under his breath. Already, his eyes are locked back on the television, colorful lights bouncing off his face. It must be his tenth time watching the classic horror film but he stares with the amazement of a first-time viewer, as if he wasn’t rambling about something called a split diopter shot just a few scenes ago.

You can’t help but smile at his quick shift in attention, ultimately content with settling down and letting him focus. As long as a scary movie is playing, you’ll always be the second most important thing in the room to Charlie; a title you hold with pride. Unlike others in his life, his passion doesn’t bother you. In fact, you find yourself admiring his ability to juggle a film studies degree, the leadership position of your college’s cinema club, and weekly series rewatches with the rest of his busy life. Your only complaint would be having to share the small couch in his apartment with Robbie, whose presence makes the already rare mid-movie makeout session completely non-existent. Thankfully, he’s visiting family this weekend, but the lack of a clingy roommate has seemingly had zero effect on Charlie’s inclination to make a move.

So, when your boyfriend awkwardly clears his throat, you quickly tune back in, caught off-guard by the scene unfolding. On-screen is a vivid reminder of the part of your relationship that, up until now, has been virtually unexplored. Despite being unphased during the naked locker room title card, Charlie now fidgets uncomfortably as one of the male characters, whose name you can’t remember, receives a blowjob in his car. The actual act is offscreen, but there’s enough crotch-leveled head bobbing in the camera’s view to surmise what’s happening below the cutoff.

When it comes to anyone else’s sex life, Charlie is as interested as you could expect any newly independent young guy to be. If a couple is getting handsy during a party or other gathering, he’s the one to speak up and tease them about getting a room. When one of your friends unknowingly makes an innuendo, it’s him who laughs, derailing the conversation with some form of that’s what she said joke. Even during the gratuitous nudity scenes popular in his favorite genre, your boyfriend usually pairs his reddened cheeks with a low whistle of appreciation.

Simply put, Charlie is not a prude.

That fact had been what stumped you as your relationship grew, regular milestones coasting by at average speeds. It took three instances of him not reaching under your bra during makeout sessions, happily groping at your chest through two layers of clothes, for you to realize that his personal experience ended abruptly atop second base. Even when it was physically obvious he was ready to move on, Charlie had never mentioned or hinted at continuing, so neither did you. Now, it’s almost as if the glaring depiction of a couple being intimate has finally reminded him how little you two have done.

Thankfully, a bout of bad editing eases the sudden tension. “How is she talking right now?” you snort, referencing the actress’ voiceover poorly edited into the scene. Charlie flinches at your interruption, but you barely notice, too busy jabbing your pointer finger directly at the screen. “She’s still got John Travolta’s dick in her mouth!”

“Billy,” Charlie tensely corrects.

Assuming his tone is just a result of your outburst, you roll your eyes. “Whatever. All I’m saying is you can barely remember how to breathe while giving head, let alone start… I don’t know… monologuing about the girl you hate.” You huff, shaking your head. “Sorry, I won’t interrupt again. Promise,” you apologize, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you when Charlie doesn’t immediately reply. You hadn’t meant to insult him or the movie, but maybe your attempt at a bad joke had fallen short, too personal and poorly timed to do anything more than hurt his feelings.

You start to pull back, intent on apologizing again but are surprised to see Charlie already staring at you. Thinking he’s waiting for your regretful spiel, you start to speak. “I’m s-”

“I want to try,” Charlie says at the same time. The rest of your words suffocate in your hitched breath, offering a subsequent silence that he quickly tries to fill. “Giving you head or, like, e-eating you out, I mean.” The admission makes him swallow heavily, wide eyes unblinking, and you sit there motionless in surprise. When you offer little more than a shaky exhale in response, Charlie squeaks out an excuse. “Not that we - not that you have to or anything, I just…” Regret spreads across his face and you quickly recover, grabbing his shaking hand with yours.

“Okay,” you agree, trying to steady your breathing as the image of Charlie between your thighs flashes through your head.  “Are you sure?” He nods so quickly that you almost blink and miss it.

“I’m definitely sure,” Charlie reassures, squeezing your fingers between his. “A-are you?”

“Definitely,” you echo, already feeling a steady warmth spread across your body. Despite your shared revelation, there’s a long moment where neither of you moves even an inch, hands clasped together as if carved from one marble stone. It isn’t until Charlie’s gaze flickers to your still-parted lips that you take the bait, reeled closer and closer until your mouth meets his.

“Fuck,” Charlie breathes, words becoming a muffled vibration when you press harder, tongue dragging to gather the taste of him. You reach for his hair now, dark waves weaving themselves between each of your fingers, and he lets out a little whimper when you tug, pulling him against you. His grip seems to have no end in sight, blindly reaching at and grasping whatever parts of you he can, fingers meeting your thighs, hips, chest, and neck. His thumbs prop up your chin, giving him the angle to lick needily inside your mouth, and you melt in his grasp, letting him take what he needs.

“Can I…” Charlie leaves a shallow bite mark on your bottom lip, soothing it with a gentle pass of his tongue. His fingers dip to the hem of your shirt now, tips brushing the inside seam. Faintly, you remember he’s never felt you here. He inches back just enough to speak clearly, voice filling the thin space between you. “Y-you can take it off and…” Already, he’s trying to pull the offending garment over your head, and you let go of his hair to help, tossing your shirt to the side the second you can.

Despite your arching into him, Charlie doesn’t immediately kiss you again, lashes fluttering as he stares shamelessly at your exposed skin. Without thinking, you reach back to undo your bra clasp with ease, straps sliding down your arms until they fall off completely. Still amazed by the previous sight, Charlie inhales sharply, pupils blown out with lust as you become barer in front of him.

“Woah…” he finally breathes, fingers tentatively brushing right below your chest. Slowly, his touch inches higher until he gives in, cupping your tits softly. The warmth between your thighs grows as he feels you in ways you’ve only imagined alone at night, eyes squeezed shut and fingers under your panties. “Holy shit.” Each exclamation falls under his breath as if he can’t contain them, commenting only to himself. “Fuck…” His grip tightens, thumbs dragging over your hardening nipples, and you sigh. “You’re so… soft.”  With a grin spreading across his face, Charlie looks to you for reassurance, squeezing harder when you nod and let out a pleased sound. “D-does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding, skipping beats against his hands. “You can be rougher, though,” you tell him, reaching up to lay your palms on the back of his. “I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.” Growing more confident from your words, Charlie begins experimenting with different levels of pressure, nails digging into your skin one second and then pinching and tugging at your nipples the next. His breathing grows heavier with each passing moment, and you can’t help the low moans escaping your lips at the feeling of his desperation and the excitement radiating off of him.

And then, without needing any reassurance, Charlie replaces his hands with his mouth, sucking eagerly at every inch of your heaving chest. “S-shit,” you gasp, then let out a breathy laugh. You push some of his long hair back, tucked behind his ears, and smile at the sight of him. His eyes are closed, face red and warm, lips slick with spit as he runs his tongue against the contours of your body. “You’re so good,” you tell him, panting when he moans against you at the praise, the vibration tingling your skin. He wraps his mouth around your nipple before pulling it between his teeth, the sharp sting sending a shiver up your spine.

“I could do this forever,” Charlie lets go to admit, and then, remembering the task at hand, begins to descend lower, kissing and licking down your bare stomach. His hands steady your twitching hips, ticklish as his soft hair brushes your sensitive skin. You continue to whisper praises until he reaches the waistband of your pajama pants and halts. He swallows heavily, the movement of his bobbing throat almost audible above the drone of the television. You blindly reach for the remote and crank down the volume until it plays a low buzz of sound you can barely make out. God help him if your boyfriend gets distracted by a bucket of pig’s blood at a time like this.

“Do I just…” Charlie trails off, unable to vocalize his thoughts. Instead of answering verbally, you lift your hips, fingers meeting his. You drag the elastic past your thighs, letting Charlie pull the rest of the fabric off once it reaches your knees. He stares intently at every inch of your exposed legs, amazed by the sight, as he mindlessly tugs your feet free. It’s only when you start to move, making yourself comfortable against the arm of the couch, that Charlie finally shifts, offering you more space. He moves closer the second he’s able to occupy the emptiness between your legs.

It’s not the most ideal position but if you stop him now, Charlie might lose his boost of confidence in the few seconds it takes to walk down the hall to his room. With one knee pressed against the back of the couch, your opposite leg balancing precariously on the edge of one of the cushions, you spread out as much as you can, offering yourself to Charlie entirely. Even with your whole body on display, his eyes stay locked on one spot: the center of your underwear, where a wet spot is surely visible. You love knowing the only other time he has this look is when one of his favorite films is on.

“Is this good?” you ask, breaking him from his stupor. He blinks, confused. “The position,” you clarify, smiling at the blush that rapidly coats his cheeks.

“Y-yeah, it’s…” Charlie clears his throat, leaning in slowly. “It’s perfect. You are, I mean. You’re perfect,” he whispers, gaze darting from your face to your panties before returning. “I can see it… Does it - do you feel good?” Even with the physical proof, he seems unsure, the tone of his question bordering on disbelief. Before you can find your words, he moves in, shaky fingers meeting the inside of your thighs. “What can I do?” he asks, skin growing redder with desperation. “I-I wanna turn you on more and-”

“Charlie,” you interrupt, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You’re doing so good.” Your amazement thankfully doesn’t embarrass him, and soon enough you feel his warm exhale right where you’ve imagined him so many times before. “I-I’ll probably cum pretty fast,” you tell him, unable to make the desperate confession sound like a tease. “If you want, you can tease me through- fuck,” you gasp, feeling Charlie’s nose bump against your clothed clit, his tongue darting out to tentatively lick at the damp fabric covering you. You whimper something that vaguely sounds like his name when he presses harder, now dragging his tongue over the entirety of your core.

“Charlie,” you repeat breathlessly, grabbing at the hair that frames his face. “T-take them off, please,” you suddenly find yourself begging, hips arching for more. When lithe fingers brush against you, you almost whine at what is surely an attempt at teasing, but then Charlie is pushing your panties to the side and tentatively sucking at your now exposed cunt. Overwhelmed by the change in sensations, you buck into the feeling, immediately rewarded by the slow drag of Charlie’s tongue circling your clit before lowering to ease inside you. The technique in his actions is not lost on you and you heave in a breath, trying to speak.

“Y-you’ve really n-never?” you squeak out, thighs squeezing around his cheeks when he attempts to shake his head. When he pulls back, you shiver at the feeling of your panties sliding back into place, fabric sticking to your wet skin. Charlie looks up at you shyly, instinctively licking his lips clean of your arousal.

“I’ve… I’ve imagined this a lot,” he whispers, tone rising as he grows more confident. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”  His cheeks are flushed and his body shakes as he clings to you for support in every form. “I’m just gonna take off your panties and- and I want you to cum, okay? Don’t hold it back or anything, please. I-if you need to hold me in place or move me, just do it. I’ll…” Stunned by his proclamation, you wait in awe for him to finish. “I’ll be good for you, I swear,” he finally promises.

True to his word, Charlie immediately resumes the task at hand, finally tugging your panties completely off and shoving them to the side. Despite the vulnerability of your position, laid bare for him, you can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips when he leans back in. Charlie drags a soothing palm down the inside of your thigh before his mouth is on you again, now slower and more precise. His gaze is focused, flickering between your expression and body, taking in every shift of your features and shiver that runs across you.

He starts by tasting the entirety of you, tongue flattened and firm as it glides against your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, letting you grind onto him until you both build a steady rhythm. It’s not enough to make you cum, but it isn’t meant to be; a consistent sensation that keeps you wanting more, without unbearably teasing you. That comes when Charlie begins to flick his tongue against your clit, so quickly and effortlessly that it takes your breath away. A litany of sounds escapes you as he dedicates all of his attention to your most sensitive spot, torturing it endlessly. His own moans only add to the sensation, a low vibration that seems to trail up the rest of your body, filling your head with a rhythmic buzz.

“Fuck,” you gasp, vision blurring and thighs trembling as Charlie replaces his tongue with his thumb, calloused skin circling your clit in a steady motion. With his mouth free, and between quick inhales, he starts to speak again.

“You taste so good,” he says, the vulgarity of his words no longer seeming to phase him. He rubs harder, faster, and his breathing hastens. “I-I want you to cum on my tongue, please?” His question sounds more like a plea, especially with the way he seems to pant around each word. “I’m gonna keep licking h-here, okay?” he asks, thumb dragging lower until the tip sinks into you with ease. Both of you still, the motion propelling the room into complete silence. Charlie lets a bit more of his thumb push into you before he pulls back completely, shakily exhaling. “It… You’re so warm,” he remarks, staring intently at where the arousal slowly drips from you. Like a moth to a flame, his mouth returns, messily licking clean your wetness.

You cry out his name, tugging on his hair so harshly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t relent. Your hips buck and you grind your clit against his firm thumb, his tongue pressing inside you just as the thick digit had moments prior. Your mantra is only quietened by the sound of Charlie’s, a muffled please, please, please mouthed against your core that has you spiraling, desperation mirroring his. A quick glance shows you that while his head and hands are focused, the rest of his body is uncontrolled as he ruts against the sofa, so turned on he can’t help but chase release.

The sharp edge of your own impending orgasm hits you so hard it seems to isolate the rest of your senses, body and mind falling into an endless abyss with only Charlie’s touch anchoring you to the present. His incessant effort to satisfy himself with your pleasure intensifies everything until you find yourself succumbing to his ultimate desire. A broken admission falls from your lips as you cum on his tongue, neverending high propelled as his licking and rubbing only grow in speed and desperation. Even after you’ve stopped grinding against him, Charlie tastes you like it’s his last chance, his hips bucking wildly into the cushion below. He eventually slows, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and you’re too overwhelmed to realize what’s happened.

It takes you whimpering from overstimulation and pulling Charlie back by his hair to make him stop, his mouth chasing you even after you’ve pressed your trembling thighs together, knees digging into his heaving chest. After a few seconds, he seems to blink back some clarity, swallowing heavily and shifting back awkwardly, cheeks flushed bright red. “Charlie?” you breathe, shakily pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Are you - oh.” Despite his quick maneuvering, the new angle allows you to see the slowly spreading wet spot at the front of his jeans.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Charlie squeaks out, trying to yank himself from the couch. “Let me just - fuck, uh - go to the bathroom or something and…” When he tries to cover his crotch with his hands, you bat them away, immediately reaching for the zipper and button on his pants. “W-what are you doing?” he asks but doesn’t stop you, even when you ease his sensitive and spent cock out from his stained underwear. His expression is pure shame as he quickly hardens in your grasp, hips bucking to escape the overstimulation of your fingers wrapped around him.

“Let me return the favor,” you tell him, tilting your head softly in silent questioning. He must only think of the wetness of your mouth on him since his blush deepens, cock twitching against your slick palm. You stroke him slowly and softly until he stutters out a yes, which you reply to with a widening grin, unknowing that he’s imagined this moment more than you could ever guess.

You lean down with a teasing imitation of his previous word and Charlie suddenly feels all of his wet dreams come true.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, okay?”

#charlie walker smut #charlie walker #scream 4 #scream 4 smut #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker imagine #charlie walker oneshot #charlie walker fanfic #scream 4 fanfic #scream 4 imagine #scream 4 oneshot #charlie walker x reader smut #fic: the devil has come home #t: writing

[moondirti]

𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 [18+]

familiar! ghost × witch! reader

you are a witch trapped at home by a devastating blizzard. ghost is the demon that answers your call. ( PART 1 of 2 )

DEAD DOVE. RATED R. HORROR/SMUT. 6k. – AO3

please please please read the warnings under the cut before reading. this is leagues darker than my usual work. it is a dark fic, and you know your limits better than i do.

warnings: discussed cannibalism. graphic depictions of gore. vomiting. killing/butchering animals. violent thoughts. malnutrition. alienation/isolation. manipulation. corruption. mentions of somnophilia. dark!ghost – i.e. simon does not conform to human morality. afab reader using she/her pronouns.

inclusivity note: the reader is described as smaller than simon, but he stands at 250 cm in his true form (8"2), so i assumed everyone – if not, most – would fit that category. she's also malnourished/sick at the start and so there are some references to unhealthy weight loss

Situated between a dense network of ancient oaks, a lesser demon would have mistaken the cottage for a boulder had they spawned further than ten metres away. Save for the warm orange glow illuminating its arched windows, the home married perfectly to its surroundings – disfigured and hideous, walls warped by unevenly stacked stone and a roof bowed under a thick blanket of snow. Overgrown bushes stick out from under its gnarled fence, dead branches desperately reaching, and the ivy he assumes was once adhered to its front has since been ripped out by the storm, whipping in the howling wind. 

But Ghost is no lesser demon; in fact, he’s far above this whole affair. Something of his rank answering the summons of a novice who could offer no more than sheep’s liver buried in their front yard was an occurrence practically unheard of. For good reason, too. He’s dangerous in the right hands, willing to resort to lengths that even the devil wouldn’t dream of so long as he receives proper payment. Most power-hungry neophytes would slaughter, have slaughtered, to have him as their familiar. Even then, he is above their grovelling. 

So, to be lured out of respite by sheep’s liver, of all things… 

He supposes he has no excuse for it, not that he has to explain himself to anyone. Perhaps he’s here only to satisfy his curiosity. The call hadn’t come from the lips of someone who’d been practising – sharp and sure, roused by a brand of audacity special to cocksure practitioners – but from someone softer. More sceptical. It’s unusual that an occultist would have both knowledge and skill to summon a familiar, yet still be suspicious as to whether they even exist at all. He’s not so much offended, then, as he is morbidly interested in what reaction his appearance would incur.

Disgust. Terror. Reverence. 

Warmth pools in his belly, blood oozing in fat globs to fuel the flame that compels him to head into the small home. It’s hard to make out what’s inside merely by looking through the windows; the glass has glazed over from the contesting temperatures on either side of it, painting a bleary picture of a fire silhouetting vague shapes. The doorstep creaks under his heavy foot, but nothing – from what he can see – moves in response to the disturbance. It’s late, he knows. If it weren’t for the thick clouds shrouding the sky, he would see the moon sinking towards the west horizon. Anyone with any sense in this world knows to be asleep during witching hour.

The doorknob is round. Brass. Worn by a hand that’s gotten very good at grasping it in the same manner every time. Ghost takes a moment to digest what that tells him about his new client before turning it and ducking inside. He was right to assume it’d be unlocked. While he’d have been able to find a way in otherwise, the silly little oversight manages to elicit more excitement in him than necessary. Their mistake is added to his quickly growing character evaluation. A routineer. Garden-variety mortal, too naive for their own good. Someone isolated. Someone– 

Small. 

Size has always been relative for something of his stature. At two and a half metres, he’s able to tower over even his own. But it truly hits him, right there, how long it’s been since he last encountered a human. He tries to tally the decades in his head, only to fail and fail again by fault of distraction. It shouldn’t hit him as hard as it does. She fulfils every bit of what he expected, after all; plain, though younger than the typical practitioner of familiar-summoning ability. Fast asleep on a threadbare couch. Drowned in clothing, skin dewy with sweat. A book abandoned, open on her chest, stuffed with spare pieces of parchment and illegible annotations. Ink-stained fingertips.

But his hand could crush her head if he was truly compelled to do so. He could scoop the bare ankles currently peeking out of her quilt and throw her over his shoulder like wild game, skinned and simple to carry back to hell. He remembers the fallow deer he’d feasted on just last week, belly soft as he sunk his teeth into it, and considers letting his appetite get the best of him with the one that’s unwittingly made herself available tonight. Crack open her ribcage to gorge on the gooey insides that no doubt taste like honey to a monster with his appetite. Bury his snout into her sweet-scented neck and get a sense for prey that can fight back, if just barely. 

But the moment passes. In her slumber, she shifts to lay on her side, spooning the grimoire closer. The minor hint of life reawakens another, more primaeval urge in him, last felt aeons ago when he was a younger fiend and the world had been a much more vulnerable place.

(The urge to take, to bend and break to fit his fancy. Chewing on cartilage until it smacks like gum between his maw, flossing the foul curl of his canines. To sink his claws into tender calves and carve an irreversible Ghost-shaped hole in her home, a haunting so stubborn she’ll turn to a fake God to try and expel him.)

And it’s violent. A rather restive longing. But placed next to the patience he’s learnt in the centuries since, he makes his choice. A natural conclusion to a creature who’s always gotten what he’s wanted.

Yes, he’ll stay. Be here when she wakes and revel when those eyes widen at the sight of him, darkening the corner of her room. He’ll stay; trail around and observe as she tries to make sense of her routine in light of the beast looming over her shoulder. He’ll stay, maybe ravage what's between her legs, devastate her sense of preservation and instead make her beg for the damage. Fall short on his duties as a familiar. Stay until he gets bored, when he’s had his fill of the crying and the quaint box she calls home. When playing with his food any more will lay the morsel to waste. Only then will he finally tear into the temptingly delicious meal in front of him.

For now, though, his neck aches from having to stoop under such a low roof. He resorts to a bygone human form instead, one he consumed ages ago – bones snapping, flesh dimpling, folding, morphing into a much smaller thing, a man – and waits.

Morning finds you doubling over the side of your couch to retch up what little food you had scavenged the previous evening. 

The loss is sore. Your stomach protests as the stale bread and water emulsion punches up your throat, emptying out onto the hardwood floor. Acrid. Bitter on the back of your tongue, sharp like the cramps that erupt in your abdomen once you lay back down. Sweat plasters baby hairs to your forehead, crawling down your back and pooling underneath your bandaged breasts. You wipe it off with trembling hands, kicking the suffocating quilt until it slouches off the armrest on which your feet lay. 

Last night’s fire is little more than smouldering ash. Still, the cottage maintains a pervasive heat, the air buzzing with an unnamed vigour. It’s unlikely that the blizzard has ceased long enough for the snow blanketing your home to melt – and given the walls’ remarkable ability to release warmth faster than they absorb it, the current temperature is enough to confound you. 

Likely a fever, you think, pressing knuckles to your temple. The timing is unfortunate enough, though something about your conclusion falls apart when tested against the churning of your gut. You’re clearly unwell, that much is apparent by the bile spoiling your floor, but you’d be a fool to miss the supernatural root of it. Like a perpetual tremor, never waning despite the way your muscles flare. A delirium that unfurls from your nape to slowly embrace your ears. You blink, trying to make sense of the queasiness that continues to wrack you. 

You’d run out of herbs two days after the blizzard snowed you in, the remaining potions lining your pantry ones best left untouched. It couldn’t have been anything you took, then. Nor was it a spell; the last one you’d cast was an ignition charm you’ve performed so often you know its effects like the planes of your cheeks. You cycle through yesterday's happenings with febrile imprecision, sipping long gulps of oxygen to tame the queasiness lapping up your chest. Like bailing water out of a quickly sinking raft. Cupping it in your palms and throwing what you can overboard. You get nowhere, and your nausea only worsens.

You’d gone to sleep with your grimoire in hand. Had you cast something while in a hypnagogic state? Possible, though rather uncharacteristic. Your fingers dig into the cushion gutters, poking for any sign of the thick book. As a migraine begins to tear at your skull, your search borders on unhinged. Pillows fly across the room, cushions following suit. The quilt billows as you air it several times over, providing some fleeting – yet much needed – airflow. 

You’re so focused on finding it that you almost miss the fact that the charred voice behind you is not your panic made material. Not the voice inside your head.

“Under the couch.”

This one is hoarse. Deep. It almost instantaneously shatters the heavy atmosphere cloaked over your shoulders, breaking your pyrexia with a sharp shiver down your spine. Pure ozone injected into the bubble you’ve made for yourself, the one you thought was so secure. Where the knife you taped to the underside of your table has remained untouched in the years since you moved in, unneeded. Hunched the way you are now, you can see it. Glinting as a mocking smile does; all teeth. Too far for you to retrieve without alerting your intruder. Too far for it to be an option. Your instincts rear.

Slowly, you crouch lower, hand skimming under the couch. Your pinkie grazes the well-loved leather of your grimoire’s cover. It manages to ground you to the situation at hand, though the reality is far more horrifying than what you could’ve conjured on your own. Distorted still, rippling with the impact of your fear. Paralysis battles adrenaline – your mind freezes with the shock of drowning, your body championing for survival. It doesn’t give you time to catch up.

Wood splinters under your heel as you twist, springing in the general direction of the voice. Heavy book in both hands. Your shoulders square, steadying as hinges to your attack. The figure is just visible; you barely make out the silhouette of its head before you aim for it.

But it grabs your wrist and flings your grimoire across the room in a fraction of the time, the spine splaying open onto an adjacent wall. Your stomach capsizes. The raft tips, flips, sends you crashing into frothing waves. Migraine blinding you for a brief, horrifying moment; one where you can’t see the thing shackling your wrist, or anticipate the hard kick it gives to your ankles. You buckle with the pain, held up by one heavy paw. A low whine syphons from your chest.

“Enough of tha’, now.”

Your vision comes into focus several seconds later. Still watery, brine spooling over your eyes, readying them for pruning, but clear enough to make out the depth of this ravine you’ve shipwrecked over. And it’s–

Uncanny. Teetering the thread between jarring and inhumane. Nothing about it – you’ve a hard time believing the moniker of ‘man’ – strikes you as superficial. Nothing skin-deep. Like a mountain seen breaking the horizon line from continents away, its rocks humming a song too closely resembling a banshee’s shriek for it to be alluring. Something concealed within its caves; underground, bubbling, molten. An impetus for myths, undiluted by tired parents using it to scare their children into bed. Still crowned by its original savagery, conceptualised centuries ago by a peasant who made the mistake of getting too close.

But it isn’t a concept, you quiver. It’s here – fleshly, corporeal. And it's even made an attempt to look human. As if you wouldn’t feel it itching to burst out of this skin, suffocated by too small constraints. Over six feet and then some, shoulders doubling yours and fingers that stretch a bit too long, a bit too thick. No face: everything but its eyes covered in knitted headwear, framing the pair of pale pupils, shadowed by a heavy brow.

 Some suicidal, hare-brained part of you wonders what would happen if you were to lift the bottom of its mask. (What you would see. How it would react.) But the compulsion is quickly stifled by another wave of gagging, empty stomach looking for anything to regurgitate. The thing masquerading as a man catches on fast, flipping you so your back tucks against its chest. You end up projecting water over the carpet, coughing until your head pounds like a ripe bruise. It’s then that you realise your condition has everything to do with its presence, souring now that you’re practically nestled against its abdomen.

“What…” You question between dry heaves. “What are– What do y-you want with me?”

“Better question ‘s, wha’ do you want?” It murmurs back, rumbling too close to your ear. Rot thickens its breath, potent enough that it draws the tears already dotting your lash line. No doubt a corpse remains stuck somewhere down its gullet, stored away for later. No doubt you’ll join it soon, gnawed on until your flesh falls off the bone. The perfect victim; all alone, the town pariah. A witch by the common man’s standards. Cast out to a dismal forest to die.

“I don- I don’t–”

“Summoned me, didn’ you? Dug a nice little hole and all. Well,” His hand shifts, clasping tighter around your struggling arms. “I’m ‘ere now. ‘Bout wha’ you expected?”

You use your retching as an excuse to play a game of catch up, squeezing the last of your tears out. Your memories bleed into one another, ink on wet parchment. Summoned. Dug a… hole, to call on this thing of supernatural proportions currently occupying your home. Why would you want that? What have you done? The past year has been marked by loneliness of a drastic degree, certainly, yet–

And then it comes flooding back to you.

(Washing the salt off of preserved sheep’s liver. Fastening it to a bouquet garni with twine. Folding the modest sacrifice under layers of earth. Pouring milk onto the upturned dirt.)

“Aren’t you supposed to be an– an animal… Or something.” You choke.

(You never thought it’d work: this magic amateurishly scribbled onto the back of your book by a hand long necrotized. The runes had been difficult to fathom on their own. And the way the spell had sounded on your clumsy tongue made you sure you’d done it wrong. It was purely a pursuit of curiosity. Something to keep you occupied, for lack of anything else to do.)

“Or something.” It answers.

A familiar. Yours, to be precise. In service to you since it took the offering you fashioned. Or, of greater import, one that can’t do anything to you lest you ask for it.

(Foolish to think you can clamp a collar on a feral beast and expect it to heel.)

The girl has a harder time adjusting than his original estimate.

Of course, there’s the illness. The affliction that plagues all mortals who come in contact with a demon for the first time. She’s violently sick for days, verging on the full first week of his arrival. Constantly bent over herself, holding a metal pail close for the inevitable purge of bile, that which her liver overproduces to compensate for a lack of food. Her under eyes blacken five shades darker. Her cheekbones grow more pronounced. Ghost watches it all with a macabre sort of interest, unable to take much satisfaction in the affair as his meal withers away before his very eyes. Wrists thinning into willow branches. Lips flaking like dead bark.

He's almost tempted to do something before she begins to recover herself. Gets more used to his unnatural presence, it seems. Gradually. Slow.

It starts when she wakes up one morning, having slept in later than he’s known her to, hiccupping but otherwise solid. After laying on the couch for an hour, she limps off with dwindling energy to fry a batch of velvet shank for breakfast. The meal is hardly enough for one, yet she plates two-thirds of it for Ghost and places the dish on the table he’s commandeered for his own. It’s a kind gesture; he doesn’t have it in him to be kind about it, though. Yet before he can criticise her efforts, she waddles off to pry a window open. Frigid winds encroach on her sheltered home at once, snow flurrying in, but she braves the cold until a crow lands on the windowsill. 

“Hello.” She croons, smoothing a knuckle across its crown. “Sorry I’ve been away. Here,” Digging into her breast pocket, she pulls out a handful of chokecherries and feeds them to the bird. “make them last. Supply is low.” 

The crow merely picks them off her palm, coos lost in the roaring storm that batters at the door. For the first time since his arrival, Ghost is tempted to bleed into the shadows. The affair he’s made voyeur to is delicate, an understated glimpse into a life entirely foreign to him. It aches when he can’t piece together why she would give up her food for nothing in return, or why she treats him the same way she does a feral bird. He thinks it must be ego, this snarling anger in his chest. 

So when the crow flies off with a final farewell pet down its back, he hardens into a nastier version of himself. Ghost still hasn’t touched the paltry breakfast when she turns her attention back to him, a fact she meets with a gingerly raised eyebrow. 

“’Fraid I won’t eat tha’, pet.”

She takes a moment to process his epithet of choice, eyes narrowing in an almost comical turnaround of her previous gentle expression.

“Wouldn’t it be the other way around?” She scoffs.

The indignation alone should be enough to incense him further, never mind the apathy she adopts when she shucks the contents of his plate onto her own and marches back to the couch. It doesn’t. If anything, he calms a little at her willingness to take away what she so graciously offered. The cat does have claws, then. Albeit petty, piddling little claws – like the runt of a litter who’s learnt to bite back at anything that gets too close – but a fire, nonetheless. He appreciates that, perhaps more than he assumed he would. 

Her sickness, he finds, is not the only issue.

Ghost lacks context for her situation – why she lives alone when the closest towns are just bordering the forest, or why no one ever seeks her out – but it does not escape him that the girl isn’t properly socialised.

In the centuries since they first emerged, he’s absorbed a keen sense for mortal behaviour. Credit to their alarming predictability, pattern recognition has halved the effort needed for his hunts. Not that he pretends to be at one with their psychology, but it’s easy to pin just where exactly she deviates from the norm when his strategy for ravaging her depends on it. More than once, he finds himself inexplicably engrossed in her habits.

Given her home is limited to the living room, kitchen, and washroom, she struggles to find a space where she can escape his oppressive presence. Ghost does not make it easy for her, either. He could choose to blend into the darker corners of her cottage, embodying the moniker he’d been given all those years ago and disappear almost completely – or enough to give her a mental break. But the mood strikes him more often than not, and he’ll loom over her like a spectral shadow, looking to provoke the grave mood swings that seize her like Satan does his miscreants. By far the most entertaining outcome had been when overstimulation trounced her usual level of tolerance and she pulled a knife on him, zeroed in on his jugular. He’d managed to scruff her by the nape until she wore herself out – which isn’t to say she didn’t put up quite a fuss. 

Since then, she has yet to lash out to such an extreme, instead locking herself in the washroom when her temper skyrockets. Ghost is almost disappointed. 

That’s his pet at her worst. At her best, she opts for quiet coexistence, either whispering to the crow who visits daily and appears to be her only friend, or cradling that ugly book in both hands. The back of the couch where she lounges most often obscures his view of her, but he’ll get the occasional vision when she pokes her eyes above the top to check on him. He maintains eye-contact – the heavy, uncomfortable kind that engenders pure humiliation and pummels her back into place, eyebrows furrowed and contentment spoiled – until the boredom gets to him.

The next time she sneaks a peek, then, he effects a gruff “Still ‘ere.”

She keeps to herself after that, nose buried in her grimoire like a chastened fawn. 

It takes three weeks for her to settle into normalcy. By that time, Ghost’s patience has already started to wear thin.  

The girl operates under the impression that he can’t do anything unless she orders it of him. He doesn’t blame her, credulous thing that she is. The notion is generally accepted by most of her grade, propagated by some text meant for beginners, written by a man who lacked the subtlety to discern between rules and good form. It’s true that familiar’s tend to only perform feats their counterparts ask for, but only because to do otherwise is bad practice. What else motivates a symbiotic relationship if not trust? Dependency? 

Of course, that’s if a demon has anything to gain that a human can provide. He’s always found it to be a little more than pathetic. Reared to hunt, formidable in his thaumaturgic ability – Ghost has lasted centuries by remaining self-sufficient, unwilling to lean on the inferior class of rational beings. Unwilling to do their dirty work in exchange for blood he could obtain very well on his own. At least, that had been the conviction when he’d answered her graceless summons, bent on killing both his curiosity and hunger with one stone. 

But something about her had made him glad to abide by the niceties. Had soothed the spring of his haunches as he prepared to pounce, or otherwise convinced him to play passive until golden opportunity struck. He’d wanted her to have as much a hand in her own unravelling, like a frog brought to a boil, entirely oblivious of its impending death until much too late. Her erroneous understanding of their dynamic, then, had paired nicely with his purposes. So he led her on to believe it, wasted most of his days amenable at the dining table as if waiting for instruction. As if she was the one in control, buzzing to shatter the perception when she inevitably asks something of him. 

What he’s found, unsurprisingly, is that she’s blossomed under the reassurance. The initial fear that gripped her once she realised he wouldn’t be going away has since watered down to a weak, background agitation. He tastes it in the air; the mild unease as she flits about her cottage, the first thing to go when something else captures her attention. The way she hardly takes note of him anymore, waking up or retiring to sleep with nothing but covert glances to where he monopolises space. 

So that feeling of frothing irritation returns at her docility, only more powerful than it had been when she’d offered her last chokecherries to the crow. No witch or wizard of her acumen has ever been so lacking in spite – and from what little she’s allowed him to see of her outbursts, he knows she isn’t short of it either. Yet she’d given up so quickly. Forfeited her home and comfort to a monster she hasn’t attempted to make any use of. And fuck– if that isn’t what he’d wanted. He needed her secure in him, pretty and soft enough that she’d be tempted to trade him for favours, for little feats of magic or the completion of chores she no longer has to worry about now that she doesn’t live alone. 

Nevermind the detail that she refuses to ask anything of him; it still claws at him the wrong way, razor-sharp and deadly as it tears up his throat. This anger on her behalf. A compensation for the response she should be having. It stirs him when he realises that, for all intents and purposes, what he feels is pity. Perilous, committed sympathy. 

There’s a reason he steers clear of it, too. Quick to snowball. He already feels it growing, avalanching into the hollow recess where he’d suppressed the soul of his first meal. Something shifts, then. He can’t place it. Just knows that the outcome he’d envisioned – where her bones serve to pick his teeth of the soft flesh from her thigh – is no longer a viable option. Just knows that his intentions with her mutate into something perhaps more dangerous, a little more unhinged. To weed out the wickedness he’s only seen in flashes. To see her corrupted into a far worse version of herself. 

It’s late into his twentieth night when Ghost decides to do something about it. 

He wedges back into her cottage when dawn splinters over the virgin snow. If he were a passionate man – not this hellhound trailing blood behind him like breadcrumbs – he’d remark on the way the tepid sunlight stains the forest in shades of peach and lurid blue. But the crow between his teeth hangs limp, and he’s hurried for the best way to present his gift, too absorbed in the task at hand to pay much mind to scenery. 

The house is as tranquil as it always is at this time. Suspended in amber, a fossilised quaintness he’s grown used to. Golden, almost sticky slow. She’s still fast asleep on the couch, soft snores whistling from underneath a patchwork quilt (which smells so much like her that, to his mutt senses, they’re one-in-the-same form.) Despite the precarity of the moment, he makes no effort to keep quiet. His natural disposition isn’t prone to making any unintentional noise though, and so the only thing he disturbs are the dust motes bobbing in suspended animation. 

Ghost places the dead bird on the table. It won’t be long before the blood drains from the punctures in its neck, and he prefers his meat iron-rich and wet, so he makes quick work of morphing back into his human form and washing his muzzle clean. There’s a sick thrill that curls in his gut; something like adrenaline, ozone-rich. Ruthless. He holds a crystalline picture of her reaction to the slaughtered friend he dragged into her home; angry, doe eyes glazed with tears as she yells at him for acting against her best wishes. Bad dog. Perhaps she’ll pull the dagger she keeps taped to the bottom of the table to indulge a sense of security. Perhaps she’ll drive it into his chest. That’s for hoping. 

Standing over her now, he imagines the way her serene face morphs into something foul when she’s pushed to her limits. His cock twitches at the mental picture, aching behind the confines of his pants. A heavy hand moves to adjust it, stilling once it cups his balls to consider whether it’d be overkill to tug it over her face while she remains nice and still like this. It would be – not anything he’s above, granted, but excessive nonetheless. Besides, she’ll have plenty of time to accept the attention. Learn to love it, even.

When she wakes, Ghost has already plucked the crow. The feathers pile in the centre of her round dining table – distinctive even when detached from a body, meant for her to draw parallels to the game he currently masticates. Yet she hardly notes his presence at all. Instead, the unsuspecting thing merely clears the sleep from her bleary eyes, weighed down by a heavy cloak of sloth, more focused on wiping the drool off her chin than him. If she had been, perhaps the pieces would fall that much faster; at least, that’s what the quick-tick rap of his pulse insists upon. 

But he’s no over-eager brute. He can wait. 

Yet he is tense when she shuffles to and from the bathroom, bare feet padding along hardwood. Like a flood, his body grapples against the tidal urge to grab her jaw and force her gaze upon his bloody teeth, sharpened and marred behind the mouth of his true form.  Look at me. Have you no survival instinct? There is a threat in your home and you parade in front of it, blind as a mole. You’ll get eaten like this. You’ll be condemned to hell between the jowls of horrible men.

(More monster than ever, really. Even like this, bound by his approximation of what a mortal man looks like, his face remains stuck to its original construction. The knitted mask he wears is more for her sake than his; he’s never been able to replicate the particulars of humanity. The delicate planes of their lips or the angles their noses protrude at. Better not to try, then. Better to hide it all away.)

It’s as she scrounges for breakfast that she finally heeds the pinpricks of blood dotting the floor. Fat, dark splotches draw a clear line from the doorway to a very calm Ghost, sat with his thighs spread over her too-tiny chair. He’s yet to finish his meagre meal – each bite seasoned with a satisfaction that bloats heavy in his stomach – hence the evidence of his crime still paints the corner red. A violent picture. Distressing, if he were to interpret the way her brows knit tight. 

Crimson meat marbled ivory. Wings pried off a picked apart ribcage, shanks sucked clean of slightly tougher muscle. Still intact are the heart, tongue, liver – their membranes dissolving to soak into the table. The smell of death will be hard to rid of, he’s sure, much like the inedible parts of the bird that scatter carefully in front of him. Its glossy black talons. That tell-tale beak. Feathers on which her eyes linger, like she recognises the sheen but is too upset to connect it to the crow she fed daily. Her only friend. 

She steps closer. Ghost devours every minute expression that flits upon her face. For the expressiveness of her pupils – contracted, small like organic pearls – she doesn’t portray much externally. Her fingers wring her skirt, twisting and twisting until it wrinkles in the impression of her thumb. Her lips purse into a thin line. But as far as his sharp observation goes; no tears. No ugly rage rippling her cheeks. 

“What is this?” She asks in a small voice. 

“Breakfast.” He says. It isn’t the response she’s looking for, and a frown tugs at her mouth. Not necessarily sad. Her hands release to clench at her sides. He smiles behind the mask. He can’t help himself. 

“I didn’t tell you to do this.” 

The smile breaks into a low chuckle. “No?” 

“No.” Shaking her head, emotion surges up her throat. It bubbles thick and forces her to adopt a higher pitch to overpower it. “You brute. I-If you could’ve done whatever… whatever you wanted t-the whole time–”

“C’mere.” His hand snakes around her wrist, using it to wrench her closer. He consciously keeps his grip light – too much force and he could easily shatter bone – but the girl does not share his concern. She pulls and fights and stubbornly protests his direction.

“No! Get the fuck off! Get out!” She heaves. Seethes. Spittle launches from her tirade, her nails digging into his palm. She looks for blood but he won’t give it to her. She’s doing well, but not well enough. Eventually, he is able to pull her onto his lap, locking thick arms around her squirming form. “You bastard. You monster! I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll murder you in your sleep and feed your rotten insides to the maggots. Let me go!” 

He’s blood-filled in his trousers. The hefty bulge knocks the small of her back and of all things, that’s what gets her to suddenly slacken. Though her chin tips to rest between her collarbones, lashes deliberately cast down. Refusing to meet his eye for all she’s worth. Good, he thinks, a warmth blossoming in his chest. 

“You ough’ to know your friend didn’ put up a fight.” He starts, nosing the part in her hair. Despite his knitted mask serving as a direct barrier between them, he can smell the pine and juniper berry soap she uses to wash up. Sharp. Sweet. Particularly potent behind her ear, where he considers her lobes like low-hanging fruit. 

“Shut up.” 

“Need to hear this, pet.” She doesn’t listen, naturally, hips bucking wildly the instant he loosens his hold. His fingers bruise when he readjusts her on his thighs. “Need to know it was your fault as much as i’ was mine. Yeah? Y’let it grow too comfortable. Fed it daily and robbed i’ of its ingrained fear of strangers. In the end, it got much too friendly. Didn’ have the sense to fly away when I approached it.” Her breath pinches into a piercing whine. Ghost likens it to the kettle she keeps over her stove, waiting for steam to burst out of her ears. 

It does not come. Instead, she cries. Beads of brine break her waterline, streaking miserable paths down her cheeks. He’ll grant her this: she does not sob unreasonably. Her hiccups are limited to if and when the air hardens in her lungs. He lets her have a moment before continuing. 

“S’what happens, see. You get complacent, ‘n’ next thing you know, you’re meeting your God. Tell me, pet: do you think the afterlife would be pleasant to a witch?” 

When she doesn’t respond, he bounces a knee to knock some sense back into her. Her weeping starts anew, only this time accompanied by a stuttered acknowledgement. 

“Hm?” 

“N-No.” 

“No. ‘Course I could ‘ave told you that much, but it’s importan’ you come to the moral of the story yourself. Fight, or die.” Ghost strokes the goosepocked flesh of her upper arm, voice softening to deliver the final part of speech. It’s treacherously low, ultimatum like powdered ash cushioning the roughness in his throat. “And believe me when I say, dying ain’ the better option. There are far worse fates than me in Hell.” 

He does not know whether it lands like he wants it to. If it accomplishes anything at all. But she doesn’t attempt to peel herself off him in the aftermath. Instead, she mourns herself dry for the next hour, snivelling wretchedly on his lap. 

When her crying stops, the air is still laden with something. Hesitation rolls off her in waves, dense with the renewal of fear. He supposes it must be hypocritical of him, to both strike her with terror and expect her to overcome it, but he hums anyway, nudging her temple off his shoulder in an appeal to state what’s on her mind.  

What comes instead is a deceptively simple question. 

“What’s your name?” She asks. Doesn’t demand of him to tell her. Doesn’t set up grounds for him to ask for something in return. He can either answer, or not. She leaves the choice up to him. Clever girl. 

He grapples with it a moment too long. A long dead man beats at his ribcage and demands to be heard. A meal he never managed to digest. Hissing. Snarling. S-Si-Si–

“Ghost.”

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[bangtanshelves]

JJK Fanfic Recos

Hi. These are some of the fanfics I've read.

I've read A LOT but I'll only be including the ones I really enjoyed reading.

I'm in the process of recollecting them, please bare with me.

I'm also updating this post often, so whenever I end finishing a fic I like I just post it here. hehe

💓 - Fluff ❤‍🩹 - angst 🥵 - smut 🚨 - violence/drugs 🤪 - crack ⭐ - fav 🎣 - latest addition to the list

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. SERIES ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

My Love is Here - @/solemnreads

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (so much angst, I love it), 🥵 summary: "You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened."

Knife's Edge - @/readyplayerhobi

Completed ✅

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵, 🚨 The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

Four Seven Eight - @/jiminrings

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (fic made me cry) ,🥵 you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Close to you - @/muniimyg

Completed ✅ ⭐

genre: 💓, 🤪 It should've been easier than this, right?In which oc and Jungkook sleep together and he can't get over it.

Falling Skies - @/fortunexkookie

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. Once upon a time, she had called you her sun and him her moon; it was fitting, given the constant push-and-pull between you two. You used to consider him a friend, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Please Love Me - @/ahunderedtimesover

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Lowkey - @/xpeachesncream

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 In order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, Jeon Jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the way of dating.

Hotter Than Hell - @/chateautae

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Jungkook, Lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he's unsure of. Embarking on his journey for the answers should've been easy, if it weren't for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. Kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover Lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and Jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

An Ode to a Broken Heart - @/smoochkooks

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (bro I've been crying over this fic for days), 🥵 (future smut)  you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. now it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

Mutual Help - @/personasintro

Ongoing... ✍ (this is also posted on AO3)

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 (damn... that's all i can say)  in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

Way Back Home - @/solemnreads

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (please i really love angsty fics, fite me), 🥵

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is" he asks you with tears in his eyes. You look down at the sight of your son with an oxygen mask on his face while your daughter is sleeping on the couch near the wall. You look into his eyes, broken, and sad. You've dreamt of this day for years, wondering how he would react. But here you are, hoping he could've meet the twins under different circumstances. "Yes... they're your children."

Strawberry Kisses - @/pixieknj

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 (Chapter 1 has been posted, but its something else) Jungkook is notoriously known as a f^ckboy who doesn’t eat p^ssy, until he finally gets alone with you…

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. ONE-SHOTS or TWO-SHOTS ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

The Right Choice - @/honeytae

Genre: 💓 for as long as you've known Jungkook, you would think that you're witnessed all sides of him. But when you notice the way he's looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

Rainy Days - @/rklve

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Your life choices left not only yours, but Jungkook's hear broken in pieces. Now you're back in town, and just like Pluto, even if its cold and dark he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

High Demand - @/bunnyhugs77

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🚨 A modern day Romeo and Juliet

SOJU - @/hoseoksluna

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

Lost & Found - @/kooktrash

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (if you squint), 🥵 your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

Bottle Up Old Love - @/wintaerbaer

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

Pink Sapphire - @/jiminrings ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹(please I'm a sucker for this) ,🥵 Having Jungkook as a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. Your relationship's perhaps become so easy that Jungkook doesn't think sometimes— and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

Will it fit? - @/jeonsweetpea

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🤪, ❤‍🩹 (just a little bit) So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can't exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom...

Break up with your Boyfriend - @/spideyjimin

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook, the campus fuckboy, has decided to make you his next victim, but you're far from being like any of his previous hookups. You're not single. You're actually in a very long-term relationship with Baekhyun, the man you consider the love of you life, but it's for sure something that won't stop Jungkook. He wants you, and he's going to do absolutely everything to have you, even falling in love.

Paint me naked - @/gimmethatagustd

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he's not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

I hate you, I love you - @j/ungblue 🎣

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends... and you're absolutely in love with him; he's in love too—just not with you.

How to Get a Guy - @/taeshobipop 🎣

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He's loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you're absolutely bizarre. But there's a silver lining— Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he'll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungook can continue persuing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn't want to tbe the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

#jjk x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine

[babydollmarauders]

PHASES — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which luke is pining for the girl he knows he’s destined to be with

notes: 4.3k words. this is a new style of writing for me and i truthfully don’t know about it but it felt right for this fic.

Luke Hughes knows a lot of things.

he knows hockey. he knows history. and he knows that in this moment, drunk on cheap beer and lip locked with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, she and he are destined to be together.

but life and love are never simple. drunken hookups between best friends don’t just automatically make them a couple. and no matter how badly he wants to scream that she should be with him, he knows he has to wait it out; give her time to come to the same realization that he did two years ago.

her back digs into the armrest of the battered couch, her legs draped across Luke’s own as his fingertips grip her upper thigh. their faces are drawn together, her hands tangled beautifully in his curls, pulling him closer toward her vodka soaked lips.

“Lukey,” his name rolls off her tongue like a whispered prayer, causing a singular beat to skip in his heart.

“what do you need, doll?”

“you.”

and her singular word is the driving force that brings Luke to his feet, her hand laced with his as he leads her to his bedroom. the people in his apartment cast away from his mind, only one person occupying that space.

her.

surely, Jack can handle the party that he threw, no one would miss Luke.

and that thought is what leads them to his room, their bodies pressed together in mere minutes. the next few hours spent tangled between cotton sheets. his feverish touch making her body shake, and her soft sounds causing an intense sensation of need within him.

hot breath mingles, their lips rarely straying from each others. sweat coated skin sticking together as they christen his bed for the umpteenth time. neither mind clear, they find solace and pleasure with her legs wrapped around his waist and his sloppy thrusts bringing them to the highest points.

and when they call it a night, Luke’s hand slamming the car door shut after she falls into the backseat of an uber, he falls back into the same spot he started the night.

waiting for fate to bring her home to him for the final time.

***

the restaurant feels suffocating, her dress itchy, causing her to wiggle uncomfortably in her chair.

her date doesn’t even seem to notice, rambling on once more about how cool it is that she works for the New Jersey Devils.

“i mean, you must get to be around the players all the time, right? how did you even get that job?” what was this one’s name? Carter? Carson? it started with a C, right?

“i went to University of Michigan. graduated a year early with a degree in sport management, and after working with the hockey team there, i was able to secure a spot working for the Devils.” she smiles, a weak timid thing that barely even reaches her cheeks, “but yeah, i do spend a lot of time around the players. kinda my job to get content of them, ya know?”

maybe-Carter chuckles, nodding his head, “so are you like, friends with any of them?”

‘oh, here we go’ she thinks.

“i went to school with Luke Hughes, he’s kind of my best friend.” it was an instinct really, an involuntary reaction; for a smile to creep across her lips when she talks about Luke, “but i can’t really say much about him or the guys, they’re people too and they deserve their privacy.”

“right, totally respect that,” he nods, his lips falling into a tight line, and she can’t help but notice that they aren’t as pillowy as Luke’s.

his lips don’t nearly look as comforting to kiss. and his curls; they don’t… curl the way Luke’s do. rather he has a head of tighter curls, unlike Luke’s unruly mess of loose curls and waves mingling together. his eyes aren’t the right color either, erring on the side of a blue closer to Jack’s; which makes a shiver run down her spine, discomfort settling within her.

“are you cold?” he asks, catching sight of the goosebumps that spread across her skin. he huffs a condescendingly toned laugh before continuing, “maybe you should’ve brought a jacket, restaurants run cold.”

that was where she drew the line. with his obnoxious attitude combined with his interest, which only peaked when discussing her job, y/n was surprised she lasted as long as she did.

and if the fact that he wasn’t similar enough to her best friend played a small part in her leaving? well, could she really be blamed?

after all, it was Luke’s fault.

it was Luke who made the first move his freshman year of college, both of them tipsy on drinks made by Dylan and his heavy hand with rum. it was Luke who made the sophomore girl fall for him two years ago. it was Luke who drunkenly tells her he loves her as he buries himself inside of her, knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge. and it was Luke who has her going on at least five dates a month, trying to force the Devils rookie out of her heart.

or at least, she blames it on Luke; because she couldn’t allow herself to admit that she fell in love with him of her own accord. she can’t allow herself to confess how quickly their drunken hookups turned into something more for her. and she certainly can’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t put a stop to them. how could she? those are the only moments that she can let herself believe, even for a moment, that she could be his.

because despite how badly she wanted it, she could never be Luke’s. not in the way she wants to be. no matter how hard she tries, she can never find the words to express how much he means to her. how much she loves him.

*

Luke laid on the couch, the springs digging into his back uncomfortably.

“dude, we really need a new couch.” he huffs, “and why am i laying like this? i don’t think people actually lay down in therapy outside of tv shows.”

“shut up, i’m taking notes.” Luke’s eyes drift to his older brother, who occupies the space of the living room chair.

“notes on what? i haven’t even said anything!”

“you don’t need to. i’ve listened to you bitch and moan about y/n for two years, i’m writing what i can remember.” Jack explains, his brows furrowed in focus as his pen scribbles messily across the notepad on his lap.

“why did i let you talk me into this?” Luke rolls his eyes at his brothers antics.

“because you’re pussy-whipped and you’re playing like shit.” Jack looks up from the notepad, straightening his posture and settling his focus on Luke.

“is that a medical diagnosis?” Luke jokes, his brow raising as he chuckles.

“no, that’s brotherly criticism. you get that for free, courtesy of the nine months we each spent in mom’s womb.” Luke cringes at his brothers words, shaking his head.

“don’t talk about mom’s womb.”

“just speak, dude. what’s going on in that curly head of yours?”

Luke sighs, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling. his hands fiddle with the cellphone that lays on his stomach, impatiently waiting for the text that he knows will come through.

it’s 10pm on an off day, he knows she’s got a date tonight. he also knows how her date will end; soon enough she’ll be texting him a long paragraph about how men suck and asking him to remind her why she can’t become a nun.

“well, i told you, i know she and i are meant to be together. i can feel it.” Luke starts, quickly cut off by the familiar grating voice he’s known his entire life.

“yeah, yeah, you’re a simp. move on.”

“has anyone ever told you that you’d make a horrible therapist?” Luke questions, head turning once more toward his brother.

“i can’t say anyone has, no.”

“yeah? well then, i’ll be the first.” he glares, “stick to hockey.”

“just keep talking, Lukey.”

“i think it’s getting harder to wait for her.” Luke confesses, and it feels like a small weight has been lifted off his chest; progress.

“so you wanna move on?” Jack asks, his pen scrawling along the paper again.

“no!” Luke huffs, sitting up on the couch to turn towards his brother, who quickly strikes out whatever he just wrote down, “i’m just saying that- that this whole waiting game is fucking with my head. Phil said i had to wait it out. he told me not to pressure her. practice my patience and let her come to the realization on her own.

“but, what if it goes on too long? she’s always going on dates, what if she meets someone else? what if it takes her ten years to realize what i realized like a month after we met?! what if she gets married before she realizes?”

“too many ‘what if’s’, dude. you’re hurting my brain.” Jack groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Luke, already in an emotional spiral, rolls his eyes, “what brain?”

“hey! i’m trying to help you here! don’t insult me!” Jack stands up, notepad falling to the floor and his hands drawing to his hips as he glares at the rookie defenseman.

“well you’re not much help.”

“you want my advice? either keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.”

“i’m going to bed.” Luke grumbles, pushing past the shorter man to go to his room.

“don’t forget, no morning skate tomorrow!” Jack calls out as Luke’s door clicks shut.

as Luke strips down to his boxers, his phone lights up on his bed, vibrating amongst the cotton sheets. and as he sees her name flashing on the screen, butterflies flutter in his core, making him swallow harshly in attempt to stop them.

he doesn’t even get a word out after accepting the call, her voice filtering through the speaker, “men suck.”

“oh yeah?” Luke can’t help but laugh at the repetitive cycle, “tell me more. how do we suck?”

“you just do, okay?” her tone is biting before she takes a sobering breath, “all he wanted to talk about was the team. i could practically see the walls shut down around him once i told him i couldn’t dish out the hot goss on players.”

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he’s not sorry. not even a little.

“remind me why i can’t be a nun?” her voice is distant as she takes the phone away from her ear so that she can unlock her apartment door.

“no tiktok and no sex.” Luke echoes for what feels like the hundredth time.

“right.” she kicks off her shoes, bumping the door shut behind her as her cat darts around between her legs, rubbing against her nylon tights, “you ready for the game tomorrow?”

“yeah.” no.

“good. i’m gonna go eat my weight in ice cream and scroll tiktok. goodnight, Lukey. thanks for the reminder and for listening to me rant.”

“any time. goodnight.”

as Luke lays in bed, he falls asleep with Jack’s advice echoing in his head.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

meanwhile, y/n slumps on her sofa, a pint of ben & jerry’s in her hand as she looks down at the little ball of black fur that’s taken up residence by her feet.

“have you ever been in love, Sir Nightingale?”

the cat blinks back at her, patiently waiting for her attention. which comes in the form of her fingernails scratching lazily under his chin.

“i have.” she continues the one sided conversation, “it fucking sucks. never fall in love.”

***

the game was an absolute shit show.

Luke had taken a shoddy penalty in the first period; for delay of game, out of all things. which lead to a power play goal by the opposing team and leaving the Devils down by two.

it was only about five minutes later that Luke got an assist on a goal of Jack’s, but ultimately, the game still ended six to two, not in the Devils favor. not only did the team get yelled at for their lack of adequate effort, but Luke was singled out for at least two turned over pucks, which lead to opposing team goals.

and to make a bad night even worse, when all was said and done and Luke was finally showered and ready to just go home and wallow in the loss, he left the locker room to find y/n chatting with one of the equipment managers, Ben.

her hair twirled around her finger as she laughed at something Ben said, a red flush on her cheeks. Luke felt deflated, to say the least.

it was always someone else.

never him. never Luke.

he felt overlooked, and perhaps even unnoticed. it was like she never even saw him as an option, only ever the object of her desires when they were both tipsy and horny and already together.

and yet the feeling was still there. settled low within his gut, he still knew; he’s the one for her. he knows. he’s fairly certain that deep down, she knows it too.

is it his age? it’s only a year’s difference, surely it doesn’t matter, right? it was something else. it had to be, but he truly didn’t know what.

“y/n.” his voice carries through the hallway, settling in her ears and catching her attention.

turning towards him with wide doe eyes and parted lips, she smiles, “hey!”

“am i still giving you a ride home?” Luke’s expression is stony, giving nothing of his feelings away. though, he can’t help the way his eyes gravitate to the man behind her, Luke’s blank stare making the man cower just slightly.

and Luke almost felt proud of that. almost.

“actually, i think Ben and i are gonna go for some drinks. i’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?”

his shoulders slump, his posture crumpling the same way his heart did in his chest.

“yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Luke barely gets two steps closer to the arena exit before her voice calls out, stopping him in his tracks. her heels click against the floor as fast as she could move, before she pops up in his vision.

“you played good. a few mistakes are normal, it’s your first full season, the most games you’ve ever played,” her voice is gentle, her eyes peering up at him softly through her wispy lashes, “i’m proud of you. don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?”

her arms wrap around his torso before he can even respond, her face buried in the chest of his suit. and before his heart can reach a normal pace again, before he can wrap his arms around her in return, she’s pulling away.

with a wave of her hand and a small but awe-strikingly beautiful smile playing upon her lips, she’s walking away. back to Ben, who waits for her by the arena exit now.

and once more, Jack’s voice is back inside Luke’s head. driving him absolutely insane as he watches the love of his life walk out of the building, giggling at something another man said.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

*

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

“tell her how you feel.” Luke wakes with a startle, his head knocking against his brother’s, who was leaning over him.

Jack curses, hissing in pain as he holds a hand his forehead.

“what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Luke groans, voice groggy as he takes in his surroundings.

“i got up to take a piss and i could hear your phone blowing up all the way from the bathroom,” Jack explains, “shit, you have a bony ass head.”

“it’s called a skull. i know yours doesn’t house anything inside of it, but even i assumed you’d know what it is.”

Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. “ya know what? just for that, i take back my advice. fuck off and die alone, what do i care?”

“why were you giving me advice at-” Luke slides his phone off his nightstand, checking the time, “two in the morning?”

“she’s blowing up your phone.” Jack scowls, “something something men suck something something maybe being a nun is worth the no tiktok?”

Luke feels an odd sense of relief as he looks at his recent texts, finding exactly what Jack had described.

well, without the ‘something something’s.

“pretty sure you were saying her name in your sleep too,” Jack smirks, backing away towards the bedroom door, “tell her how you feel, dickhead. put you both out of your misery so i can get some sleep and not listen to your incessant whining.”

with that, Jack leaves, the wooden door clicking shut in its frame behind him.

reading through the texts, Luke gathers that she and Ben didn’t get very far into the night together, seeing as her messages were still legible, something drunk her could never accomplish.

the thought brings him an unnecessary amount of joy. but then he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of annoyance, remembering he’ll have to go through this process all over again soon.

truthfully, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. he’s not giving up on her, on the contrary, maybe Jack is right. maybe Phil couldn’t give advice for all women and maybe Luke should just stop waiting.

she wasn’t coming to a realization quick enough and honestly, Luke is fucking tired. tired of drunken hookups. tired of listening to her rant about failed dates and sucky guys. tired of being overlooked as an option. tired of his feelings going unnoticed.

the dial tone was ringing in his ear before Luke even realized that he had made a decision, like his hands were working on autopilot. like his heart knew what he would decide before his brain did.

“hey! did i wake you?” her words weren’t slurred, Luke noted. that’s good, she doesn’t even sound tipsy. she’s in a sound state of mind for his confession.

“no,” he shook his head, despite knowing she could see him, “well, yes but no? you didn’t wake me up but Jack did, he could hear my phone buzzing.”

“oh shit, i’m sorry! we can talk tomorrow if you wanna go back to sleep, i’m just about to-”

“i love you,” immediately, Luke is regretting this decision; the silence on the other end of the phone making him bite his lip in anxiety.

“what?” her voice cracks as she giggles, “Luke, are you drunk? did you drink before you went to bed?”

“no,” he groans out, his head dropping back in frustration, “i swear, i haven’t touched any alcohol tonight. just listen to me.”

“i’m always listening to you, Lukey.” her eyes widen as she sits on the edge of her plush bed, “i just don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“i love you,” he repeats, rolling his shoulders in attempt to psych himself back up before he takes a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you. i have been since freshman year. i think that somewhere deep down, you know just as much as i do, that you’re meant to be mine. and i’ve waited two years for you to realize it. i’ve been patient, i’ve held back, i’ve waited on the sidelines while you go out on dates and i’ve listened to you rant about men. and that’s no problem; when i’m done, if you decide you’re still not ready, i’ll continue to wait for you. because even if you’re not mine, i’m yours, y/n. but, i need to get this off my chest and i need you to know that i’m in love with you. my life isn’t complete without yours. and when you’re ready, i’ll be here waiting for you. i’ll always be here. when you’re ready for the drunk hookups to turn into sober love, i’m gonna be right here. because i think that’s our fate. i think that we were destined to find each other and i think we were meant to have this storyline in our love story, and i know that one day you’ll realize it too. you can tell me i’m insane, you can tell me you don’t feel the same, you can even tell me to fuck off, if that’s what you wanna do. i’ll back off, i won’t say another word, but i’ll still be waiting.”

y/n is silent, her hands shaking as she breathes through the tears that roll down her cheeks. in return, Luke is quiet too, patiently waiting for her to digest everything he just confessed. every built up feeling that he just let slip out of him.

“i love you too.” it feels like all the weight she’s been shouldering has been listed off of her with the utterance of those four simple words.

“you do?” he feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s just been knocked against the boards and his lungs forgot how to take in oxygen.

“yes. Luke, why do you think i go on those dates? have you not noticed that almost every guy i go out with resembles you? i didn’t know if you felt the same way, i didn’t know how to tell you how i felt without risking our entire friendship going up in flames. Luke, i’m so fucking in love with you and it hurt. for two years, i’ve reveled in our drunken moments because i thought that was all i’d ever get. i dreaded the day that you would meet someone and tell me it has to stop. i fell for you so hard and it was so scary and i just- i had to try and move on. i had to try and meet someone before ultimately, you did. because i knew that if you told me you met someone, and i was still in love with you? i would never recover from that, Luke. i wouldn’t. and now you’re saying this and i, god i feel so fucking stupidly in love with you. you don’t have to wait anymore, because i realized i love you a long time ago.”

Luke pushes out of his bed, any interest in sleep lost to him. pulling on a hoodie and an abandoned pair of sweatpants from his bedroom floor, he doesn’t even bother telling Jack that he’s leaving.

“god, i need to kiss you.” he slips on his nike slides, his fingers nimbly plucking his keys off the hook by the front door, and as quickly as he could manage, he was out of there.

“you can kiss me tomorrow, Lukey.” she smiles, finally rising from her bed to finish her nightly routine.

that is, until she hears a key turn in her front door. her eyebrows pull together as she wonders out of her room, greeted by sight of a disheveled Luke in her apartment doorway, who looks like he just ran down the stairs to get there.

hanging up the phone, she grins back at the tall boy.

“or i can kiss you now.” a playful smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he taking wide glides over to her.

his hands find her cheeks, his thumbs wiping gently over the supple, tear stained skin. the apartment is silent, their heartbeats racing as she gazes up at his beautiful eyes.

“or you can kiss me now.” she echoes, her words mumbled and low.

that’s the final straw, the confirmation Luke desperately needed, and finally, he allows his head to dip down. her lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of mint ice cream, and warmth spreads across his body, starting at his chest and almost blossoming across his body. Luke feels at home.

her hands desperately cling to his hoodie, as though he’ll disappear if she lets go, and his slide back to cup the nape of her neck. she has no desire to pull away, but her lungs spread with fire until she’s forced apart by the need to breathe.

“i love you.” she whispers, eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his own, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she bites back a lovelorn smile.

“i love you, sweet girl.”

“please don’t go back home. spend the night?” she finally opens her eyes, her head tipping back as he straightens up.

a pink hue glows upon his cheeks, and she can’t resist letting the backs of her fingers gently graze over the heated skin.

“not going anywhere, baby. staying right here.” his lips brush against her forehead, leaving a fleeting kiss in their wake and making her heartbeat flutter within her rib cage.

it feels right, the way they go about a new bed time routine. luke’s arms wrapped around her waist as she brushes her teeth, his eyes boring into her reflection. her head on his chest as they fall asleep, his alarm on for them to wake up for morning skate, together.

and if they were holding hands when they walked into the rink, if they were a cheesy couple who kissed before he entered the locker room, if his smile was a bit too wide in the tiktok she filmed for the Devils socials, if she chose the question ‘do you believe in fate?’ solely because of him, could they really be blamed?

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

[taexoxosgf]

DO IT AGAIN

PAIRING brother’s best friend!park jisung x fem!reader

WORDS 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS reader is tyong’s sister, jealousy, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

NOTES this smut is actually from a super long fic i posted on my old account! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post the whole thing because i’m cringing rereading it lol

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Taeyong dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!”

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.”

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young! Loosen up a little! Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch.

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before running out of the main room.

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Taeyong’s motto is always all or nothing.

You're nothing near Taeyong's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jisung. Excruciatingly so. Whoever claimed that drinking made you act like a bitch in heat wasn't kidding. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for Jisung because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around.

“Hyuck? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re already bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept.

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away. He still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you never had the opportunity to properly catch up.

“Not doing too bad. It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.

“How’s the East Coast? Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?”

“Nah, you know me. Girls there are way too preppy for me. Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he pretends to gag, swaying his body from side to side.

“Hey! Don’t hate. That show was ahead of its time,” you comment, brows raised.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves. Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.

​​"Fair enough," you nod. "You know who you should go for?" an idea flashes across your mind as you speak.

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Yuna.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together! What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?”

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked. “She’d never go for me.”

“What? She used to have a crush on you! You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm. “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard. I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay. Let’s hang out and catch up this week. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.

“I”m go-”

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.

You see it’s Jisung after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.

“Jisung, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back. It’s almost pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door. Jisung finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in your own space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out hoarse, more playful. This was just what you wanted. He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building up the courage to approach him first.

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it.

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours. It was the perfect opportunity. Taeyong was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house. There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments. You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.

“You have me to yourself now. So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice him struggling to control himself.

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend. Look’s like you guys were having fun,” you can hear the slight anger in his voice, jaw clenching following the statement.

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin, the alcohol influencing you to play games, “Hyuck isn’t my boyfriend, just an old friend. Remember him?”

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you. But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve. “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that! Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. “Should I call him Hyuck too?”

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on, but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Yuna.”

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.

Jisung pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?”

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard. It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core, “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.”

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Play games. Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control he previously displayed being lost in an instant.

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other. Jisung falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip. He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want."

Jisung doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present. “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

"You're hotter," your lips nearly touch at the movement. You're grinning ear-to-ear, but it's short-lived as Jisung grabs your nape and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is nothing like the previous one, and you want to drown in him. You press your mouth even harder on his, and he responds by positioning his entire weight against your body. You’re actually somewhat sober this time around and take notice of the piercing at the corner of his lips. The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the hot atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time. The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now.

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens. Jisung licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue, lips fighting against his. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump. You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours. The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jisung slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now. Is that what you’re into? Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.

“Only if you like to dominate.”

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched. The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jisung’s shirt.

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck. The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over. “I can’t hear you. Already falling apart?”

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end. It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties. He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end. But when you become lost in his lips once again, Jisung slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on.

“Jisungg,” you say against his mouth.

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds. It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.

“Please, Jisung. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.”

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you. Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace. You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria. “I w-want it,” you cry.

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.

“Want you. Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot. It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure.

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over. What you don’t notice is Jisung’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help. Jisung's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose. He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back. You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.

“P-please,” you beg.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers, he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his. “Come on, you can do it. Cum,” he demands.

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop. Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jisung bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more. You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jisung moans. "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth. The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat. “Good girl.”

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place. Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up. “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts. You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but everything Jisung does just causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.” He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.

And just like that, Jisung slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness. He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.

“Holy shit,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.”

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move. “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his. He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner. You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck. How are you going to stop now? “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.

“Ji–sung,” you moan, “Faster.” Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jisung just swallows your pour of moans. He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress. It feels so good, the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside. You don’t know how much more you can take.

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at Jisung. The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through. “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away. When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.”

Jisung’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips. He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix. “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision. The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jisung continues to destroy you. “Jisung, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh? Want me to make your pussy mine?” His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else. The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that. Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

“Answer me,” he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.

It was so easy for Jisung to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly. “Ji–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles. You begin to babble random sounds, unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jisung to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave.

“Inside, cum inside, Jisung,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter. After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements. After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out.

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene. The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too. Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jisung seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something. “I forgot to lock the door.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious? Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs.

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness. “You’re so annoying.”

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

#nct #nct dream #park jisung #jisung #park jisung smut #jisung x reader #nct jisung #jisung smut #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #park jisung x you #park jisung fic #park jisung nct #nct x you #nct smut #nct drabbles #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream smut #nct dream drabbles #nct x y/n #nct dream x reader #nct dream hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream jisung #nct dream x y/n #nct dream fic #kpop

[kentocidal]

FILE NAME: SHARING IS CARING!.TXT

USERS FOUND: stepbro!eijirou kirishima x fem!afab!reader x best friend! bakugou

WARNING! THIS FILE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED! DO NOT OPEN! stepcest, threesum, oral (m! and f! receiving), corruption, dubcon, piv, unprotected, dirty talk, coercion sort of, scummy!kiri, ask to tag

NOTES ABOUT THE VIRUS: your stebrother kirishima promised his best friend a taste of the forbidden fruit.

INTERNAL MESSAGE: i don't even care if this flops im posting it for me. happy first kinktober fic! visit the masterlist here!

NEW NOTIFICATIONS! @kaedescara @yaekiss @pvbbyb0y @voidshoutsback @4izawas (want to be added? send me an ask off anon!)

“are you absolutely sure this is gonna go over well, red?”

kirishima huffed out a laugh at his friend’s question, glancing over at him from the driver’s seat of his car as he drove the both of them back to his house. “yeah dude! it’s gonna be great. she’s really sweet, y’know. i’ve already told you everything about her. she’ll be fine.”

bakugou shifted slightly in the passenger seat, jutting out his bottom lip and turning his head to look out the passenger window. the familiar suburban landscape opened up more around them as they turned onto a familiar street, one that they always walked up and down as teens growing up.

it was bakugou’s first time back on kirishima’s street in a long, long time. it wasn’t kirishima’s first, though.

kirishima’s mother had remarried another man after he had moved out of the house, and with him came the introduction of probably the most stunning girls he’d ever seen in his entire life. ‘she’s like an angel,’ he’d mumble over to bakugou across a table in the dining hall, showing him a candid of you in sweatpants and a tight tank top on his mom’s couch, ‘she just lets you do anything to her, man. it’s like a built-in girlfriend. she’s always like, ohhh nii-san…’ 

bakugou had been apprehensive about the whole situation. he’d known that kirishima had… a thing for that cringe roleplay stepsister porn, but the fact that he was going through with it now that it was a reality had originally made him a bit concerned.

it had taken a lot of convincing for him to agree to come home with kiri for a weekend for … a relaxing getaway, as kirishima had put it.

kiri made the turn into his small driveway and picked up his phone, tapping quickly at the screen. “lettin’ her know we’re here…” he muttered under his breath before the little whoosh sound of the message sending rang through the car. 

bakugou took a deep breath, feeling out of his element. he felt like he was walking into a temptation set up by the devil.

kiri whistled to himself as he got out of the car and wandered to the trunk, popping it open to grab their backpacks. they were only spending the night, not expected to be there past sunday, so they had chosen to pack light.

bakugou gathered himself and stepped out of the car, pushing the door shut a little too hard when the front door of the house smacked open suddenly.

and there you were, in tiny sleep shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, house shoes still on as you grinned and hurried down the stoop to your stepbrother. “eiji-nii! you made it!”

bakugou felt like his mouth was full of cotton as you hurried into kirishima’s arms, nuzzling your face into his chest and kicking a foot up, giggling into him. you were… you were going to rot his brain out. you with those thick thighs, soft-looking skin, clothes tight to your body and the curves of your ass poking out of the bottom of your sleep shorts.

kirishima wrapped his thick arms around your frame and held you tight, pressing his face to your hair and breathing deep, as if he hadn’t just seen you this time last week. “hey, careful! almost knocked me over.” he laughed into you before letting you go to take your shoulders, pushing you back to get a good look at you. “beautiful as always.”

bakugou felt out of place, for the first time in his life, watching his best friend observe his little stepsister, a girl who fell into his lap that he got to stick his dick in. it should be wrong.

kirishima looked over you to bakugou, those crimson eyes of his meeting burning carmine, shark teeth on display. “you remember how i told you my friend was coming over?”

“hm?” you turned and looked over your shoulder, all wide eyes and plush, wet lips that made a knot form in bakugou’s throat. he instinctively clicked his tongue, averting his gaze while kiri squeezed your shoulders. 

“i know you remember that i told you he was staying with us this weekend. hope you still don’t mind. you don’t, right?”

you looked up at your stepbrother and pouted, face feeling hot from embarrassment, you had been so excited about your stepbrother coming home that you had forgotten about your guest. you pulled away from kiri to turn towards bakugou, sticking out a hand in greeting. “nice to meet you, sorry for being so rude, i just got excited.”

bakugou looked down at you with a mixed sort of facial expression. it read like he was angry, but he was more frustrated with his own feelings as he grabbed your hand in his to shake it once. (your skin was so soft, you smelled like coconut, you probably just applied lotion, what would your hand look like wrapped around his-)

“nice t’ meet ya too.”

—

kiri was sat on one end of the couch, bakugou on the other, beers in hand as you hummed to yourself while cooking dinner. you had offered, against bakugou’s protesting, and insisted that you needed to be a good host for your brother’s best friend while he stayed in your home. so he had allowed it, staring at you through the entryway into the kitchen from his spot on the couch while he watched the way your shorts bunched further around your thighs, long legs exposed. 

kirishima chuckled, startling him out of his trance. “you enjoyin’ the view, bro?”

“this is insane,” bakugou choked out, shifting to face a little more towards kirishima. “this is- this isn’t right. you’re a freak.”

“and yet, you still came.” he shrugged, swirling the beer by the neck of the bottle before taking a swig. “she’s fine with it. she came onto me.”

“i still don’t believe you.”

“dude! i swear! that’s what happened! i was gonna try to be normal about this, yknow. but she wanted me so bad.”

bakugou scrunched his mouth up and sat back on the couch. kirishima was fucking his stepsister who he claims came onto him. kirishima was fucking his stepsister, and he was going to fuck her next. 

“dinner’s ready!” you called out, smiling at the pair of them, and kiri grinned oh so innocently up at you as he stood. “you’re such a doll. thanks, sis.” he patted your head as he walked past you, and you just beamed at him.

bakugou could tell you were trying to act like you weren’t sleeping with your stepbrother in front of guests. he could see how you were holding off, sitting at the opposite ends of tables or rooms, fussing with your clothing a little more than someone who was completely comfortable in their skin. 

dinner was… interesting. there was a sort of heat in the room that no one chose to acknowledge. you asked bakugou about his classes, smiling so prettily when he gruffly explained what his major was, what he wanted to do after graduation. kiri cracked jokes as always, talking around mouthfuls of food as if he had never learned manners. 

things took a shift after you and kirishima did the dishes.

kiri had suggested a movie, except the movie was never picked.

you suggested snacks, too, but the popcorn was never made.

bakugou felt like he had blinked, and suddenly he was on one end of the couch while kirishima was again sat on the other, back to the armrest, one leg kicked up and stretched out on the couch cushions.

you had been pulled into kirishima’s lap after trying to reach over him for a blanket. that had been the catalyst. your back was to kiri’s chest, and his hands had slipped their way up under your tiny tank top to cup your tits with a low groan. “missed you, nii-chan.”

“eiji-nii, what are you-”

“shh, he wants to see. i told him all about us, and i let him know that we were good at sharing.” he mumbled against your ear, his wide forearms starting to bunch the fabric of your tank top further and further up.

your eyes, nervous and embarrassed, were locked dead on bakugou’s, knees knocked together, tits about to be revealed and spill from kirishima’s hands.

kiri was groping his little stepsister in front of his best friend, and he was getting hard.

bakugou felt his nostrils flare as the cogs started to turn in your pretty little head. and then, finally, what he assumed was the real you started to poke through the cracks of your innocent facade. 

“is he gonna watch us, eiji-nii?”

“i want him to join. he’s my best friend ever! you think you can help him out? make him feel just as good as you make me feel?”

“only if he wants to…” you murmured and started to chew on your lip, brows furrowed in concern.

the weight of both his best friend and his best friend’s little sister sat heavily on bakugou’s shoulders for just a moment. he could say no. he could get up and call a car right now to take him home. he could call kirishima’s mother, tell her about what her son and precious stepdaughter have been doing behind their backs. it wasn’t right. it was filthy, it could ruin them-

kirishima gripped the front of your tiny tank and tore the fabric off of you, causing you to squeal in surprise and flinch at the sheer show of strength. your tits, soft and pillowy, nipples hard from the groping, fully on display in front of him.

katsuki bakugou had morals, yes. but katsuki bakugou was also merely a man.

“i wanna fuck you, sweetheart.”

kirishima grinned. “told you bro. best pussy you’ll ever get.” kiri turned his attention back down to you, sliding a massive hand down your front to cup your pussy through your sleep shorts. “you’re not even wearing panties, spread your legs, show kats how wet you’ve been for us.”

you, with your head already swimming from the attention, dropped your knees and spread your legs, revealing the damp patch in the crotch of your shorts. bakugou practically choked. if he had just reached over at the dinner table, he could’ve felt your pretty pussy much earlier.

“now then, nii-chan, i want you to treat kats like he’s your big brother too. make him feel really special.”

“red, don’t-”

“trust me.” kirishima’s eyes cut back up to bakugou’s, and bakugou felt something in him falter. he always viewed himself as the leader of their small friend group while growing up, always taking charge in risky situations. but here, on this couch, in a house he practically grew up in, bakugou felt small next to his best friend, who seemed far too in his element to be normal.

you, lips wet and eyes glassy, nodded anyways and looked up at bakugou with a soft smile. “katsuki-nii.”

“oh, fuck.” bakugou breathed out, shifting closer to you on the couch. “let me see you, take those shorts off-”

kirishima helped you lift your hips up for bakugou to get your shorts down and off of your hips, and he practically started drooling at the sight. you, gorgeous you, your pussy drooling and almost clenching around nothing, puffy clit aching between glistening folds. 

kiri hummed in the back of his throat, dipping his hand back down and swiping two thick fingers through your lips, making you gasp and shudder. he brought his fingers up to his own mouth with a dirty grin. “she tastes good, bro. you should try it.”

bakugou’s gaze flickered between you and kirishima, before ultimately landing on you. you smiled at him, spreading your legs impossibly wider, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. “katsuki-nii, please, want you to-”

you didn’t have to say anything else to convince bakugou to drop to his stomach and press his mouth to your sopping cunt, lapping over you with wide strokes of his tongue and groaning into your pussy.

you moaned, a hand flying to his hair while the other braced itself on kirishima’s thigh. you tossed your head back onto kirishima’s shoulder, already trying to rock your hips up to meet bakugou’s tongue halfway.

kirishima’s hands found their way to bakugou’s hair and to your mouth. two of his fingers dipped into your mouth, encouraging you to suck on them, which you gladly obliged, swirling your tongue around the digits and pretending like it was your big brother’s cock. 

bakugou felt his hair get yanked, and he hissed before looking up and meeting kirishima’s dark gaze. 

“get a good taste, man. you’re gonna fuck her mouth after. don’t let her cum.”

you whined desperately in the back of your throat in protest, but kiri only pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth to make you gag and gurgle around them. bakugou hummed against your clit, sucking your puffy nub into his mouth to really make you leak. 

you squirmed in kirishima’s lap, clutching bakugou’s blonde locks as his tongue expertly swirled around your clit and his fingers prodded at your entrance, two of them slipping into your hole without much resistance. you bucked your hips, clenching down hard around his fingers as he crooked them upwards towards the spongey spot inside of you, and bakugou had an inkling of a feeling that he wouldn’t get his treat if he didn’t listen to kirishima.

he felt the way your breathing suddenly changed, and sat up, fingers and the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices.

kirishima pulled his fingers from your mouth, and you cried out in frustration. “katsuki-nii, please! so close, please-”

“don’t you wanna cum on this cock, princess?” kirishima sat up a little more and grabbed his hard cock through his sweats, making bakugou let out a breathy chuckle. 

“he’s right, baby. you know the rules. you only get to cum on your big brother’s cock.”

you felt the coil in your tummy start to loosen as kirishima stood and maneuvered out from under you, pushing you back against the armrest. bakugou took the free moment to crawl over you and smash his lips to yours, letting you get a good taste of yourself while on bakugou’s lips.

you heard kirishima remove his sweatpants off to the side, listening to the familiar sound of him spitting onto his palm to start stroking himself to the sight of you being manhandled by someone else. 

“kats,” kiri grumbled, and bakugou sat up while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “yeah, yeah, ‘m goin’.”

“nii-chan, put your head over the back, yeah? gonna suck katsuki-nii’s cock just like you suck mine.” kiri crawled over you and grabbed your throat to guide your head back. you swallowed and nodded, obeying immediately with a small yes, eiji-nii that made a spike of heat go down bakugou’s spine.

bakugou dropped his sweats and boxers to the floor, stepping out of them to finally give himself a few precursory pumps as you laid back fully on the couch, your head hanging off upside-down on the armrest. you licked your lips as kirishima guided your legs around his waist.

bakugou took a good look at the situation he found himself in. his best friend was hovering over his stepsister, fat cock prodding her entrance, no condom in sight. he swallowed thickly at the little sounds you started to make as he guided his cock through your wet folds, slicking his cock up with your juices. he caught himself staring at kirishima’s back before looking back down to your parted lips and where you started to drool all over your cheeks, and he couldn’t hold of much longer.

“open wide, princess,” he murmured, a hand reaching to grab your throat. you opened your mouth as far as it would go, and bakugou made himself a home in the wet cavity of your mouth.

he groaned, loud and low, his free hand reaching down to flick one of your nipples and grope your breast.

kirishima’s eyes glanced up as he listened to how you gurgled around the thick, foreign cock in your mouth, trying to adjust to the position and the new intrusion.

then he smiled, because he knew he was going to just knock the air out of your lungs. he pressed the fat tip of his cock to your weeping hole, and slammed himself home.

you gagged hard around bakugou’s cock, jerking and moaning out, legs locking instinctually around his waist.

“oh, baby, ‘m sorry. just couldn’t wait anymore, my li’l sister’s pussy was just too pretty for me. you can handle it, you always take it.” kiri grinned up at bakugou, at how his face was scrunched up and contorted with pleasure from how your throat was spasming around his cock.

kirishima started a rough pace, barely giving you room to catch your breath as you did your best to breathe through your nose, bakugou was quick to follow, sinking inch after inch further into your throat with huffs of yeah, that’s it, good fucking girl, taking your brother’s cock, i can feel where ‘m at in your throat.

kirishima reached down to grab your hands and pin them by your head, keeping you fully pinned as the tip of his cock slammed up against your cervix over and over. he was deep, filling you in the best way possible, while his best friend’s fat balls smacked against your face as you sucked his cock.

you felt lost, fully debauched, becoming pliant and fully receptive to their wills. you were a toy, and you loved how it felt on your skin.

bakugou moaned as he felt how deep he was fucking your throat, thrusting harder against you and feeling his legs start to shake. “can’t- ‘m gonna cum-”

“told you she- ah- was good,” kiri groaned as he leaned down to bite into the skin of your shoulder, making you whine and gag again around bakugou’s cock.

you squirmed and thrashed with each hard thrust from kirishima, the force of his hips making you bob harder up and down on bakugou’s cock. you felt stuffed, your legs felt on fire, but you were right on the edge.

bakugou shuddered before whining, sinking his cock deep into your throat to spill his hot load in a place you wouldn’t be able to spit from. you moaned around his length as you felt him cum down your throat, warm spurts and twitching cock making your head spin.

kirishima slowed his thrusts, rocking his hips against you as bakugou took his time riding out his high before stepping back and pulling his cock from your throat.

you wheezed, coughing before absolutely making sure you swallowed every last drop, opening your mouth again and sticking out your tongue to show bakugou that it was all gone.

kiri grinned and chuckled in order to get your attention again. “what a good little girl, swallowing all your brother’s cum. think you can take my load, too?” “please! please, nii-san, please give it to me, make me cum-” you whined loudly as you got the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your big brother in close to you, his massive form towering over you as he practically bent you in half to get deeper.

“i will, i’ll give it to you. shh…” kiri almost sounded affectionate, fucking you so hard the couch started to creak. “fucking- cum for me, cum on my cock, lemme feel you-”

a few swipes of his thumb on your clit sent you finally over the edge, squirting on him and feeling yourself grip down on his cock. he groaned into your shoulder as he came right after you, tumbling into his high and hearing the squelching sounds of his load filling your tight pussy.

he rode out both of your orgasms before finally settling down on top of you, peppering your face with kisses as you shook. then he looked up to where bakugou was sat on a loveseat, dazed, watching from afar.

kiri shifted and opened up a space next to the both of you, and you smiled over at him. “come here, katsuki-nii.”

bakugou swallowed before walking right into the demon’s trap.

#eijirou kirishima x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #stepcest cw #tw stepcest #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #ask to tag.txt #kirishima.txt #bakugou.txt #dark.txt #dark content #KINKTOBER.EXE #VIRUS.EXE

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝟔𝟎𝟑 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 || luke hughes ♔

summary: exam season is the worst season ever for y/n and the only person who can calm her down is 603 miles away from her

warnings: finals, essays, stress, crying, long-distance

publish date: 02/10/24

notes: i think i'm entering a new luke obsession phase because that's all i wanted to write yesterday and today. oh right! based off of this request -> idea! there is a point of me saying 603 miles a million times in this, (it's like four times) it's literally the name of the fic... so if you're annoyed then oh well, don't read it (apologies for mean emma today, i'm tired). add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

She expected this to happen, the pounding in her head, the 20 tabs open on her computer, the dozens of resource articles and research strewn about in her room, the five packets of review guides sitting in a stack on her desk, the half drank cup of coffee, and the tears springing in her eyes. The white noise coming from her earbuds was starting to bother her causing her to rip them out of her ears and throw them somewhere where she probably wouldn’t be able to find them again.

She could hear voices in the living room, just outside her closed bedroom door. They were laughing about something, what it was she had no idea. Her three roommates all had presentations tomorrow and that was it, no more studying, no more writing, they were done. She, however, still had three papers to write and two exams to take. She had regretted her decision to take this many classes this semester but she was preparing herself for her future.

She had gone to stand up, feeling dizzy immediately as her feet planted flat on the floor. She held a hand to the wall, bracing herself from toppling over. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry sight of tears, dehydration, and lack of nutrition. She knew people would be worried about her if they were to see her like this, her hair matted and pulled into a bun as best as she could, and mascara dried on her face that highlighted the dark circles and bags under her eyes. She was wearing Luke’s sweatshirt, the Devils logo plastered over it in the center, mocking her, reminding her that her boyfriend was 603 miles away from her.

At the thought, she allowed herself to tear up more, letting tear after tear fall. There wasn’t much she could do, he was in the middle of a game right now. When she realized he had a game, she turned it on and watched with a soft smile whenever he would show up on the TV. Despite knowing the fact that he would not answer his phone, she called him, hoping to just hear his voice through his voicemail. 

When his voice reached her ears, she could feel some of the tension release from her body. However, the feeling was short-lived as the beep from the end of his voicemail was heard. She didn’t leave a message, she just hung up and watched the remainder of the second period. When the horn blarred in the arena and through the tv speakers, she shut off the screen and returned to work, making her head hurt more. 

She didn’t notice the multiple attempts Luke had made to call her, her phone having died 20 minutes prior when she was writing her essay. Her headphones laid atop of her earbuds, trying to create a total noise blocker from her apartment’s noises. She had been ripping off post-it notes after post-it notes, scrambling to write down as many ideas as her brain could process. 

Meanwhile, Luke had been minorly, no majorly, freaking out. She would never call him if he was at a game, not even if it was super important. He could feel himself start to sweat again as he rushed to put his suit jacket on, wiggling his feet into his shoes. He had gone home by himself, not feeling the need to celebrate when his girl could be suffocating 603 miles away from him. 

Ever since they’ve known each other, Luke has known about y/n’s tendencies to throw herself into her school work. He remembers the first time he saw her during exam season. It was the end of their freshman fall term, they had been dating for four months at the time. They had just gotten back from their games in Ohio, he was exhausted from the trip and their 6-1 loss following their win the previous day. All he had wanted to do was go over to her dorm and lay in bed with her. 

✧༺✎༻∞

He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer but nothing came. He felt saddened and knocked again. He received the same answer, none. He turned around and slid down the wood door, hitting the ground with a thud. He put his hands on his head as he waited, kicking his bag to the side. It was only then he heard the footsteps come rushing down the hallway and looked up to see her. She had her backpack that looked as if it weighed 10 pounds, she was clutching five books in her arms and a coffee cup rested on top of them. She had been mumbling when she noticed him and her eyes lit up, “Hi!”

“Hi pretty girl, whatcha doing?”

“Studying.”

He looked at the way her eyes were hidden by the circles underneath them and frowned. He reached out to grab the books from her grasp and she gratefully accepted the offer, going straight to dig the keys out of her bag, “How were the games? Did you guys win?”

He felt heartbroken and confused, she always watched his games when they went away. She would always be the one to point out his goal or an assist that he got, sometimes she even pointed out if Dylan, Mackie, Ethan, or even Owen got a goal. He watched as she pushed the door open, removing her hand from her side to run it through her hair, “You didn’t watch?”

She turned to him, dropping her bag on the ground and reaching out for her books, “No, I was studying. Sorry, Lu.”

Studying? At that time? He did nothing but let her take the books, watching as she started to clean up her dorm. It was only then that he had noticed the state her dorm was in. There were empty boxes scattering the floor, paper plates and bowls on any surface possible, and some of her clothes were mixed in with her roommate’s, it was a mess, to say the least. He made no effort to say anything about it, though. 

She cleaned as much as she could in a matter of five minutes, looking at him with a small smile on her face, “I’m sorry I didn’t watch. I was going to watch the highlights when I got back tonight.”

“Back from?”

“Library. I think I’m starting to become a regular for everyone who works there.”

The thought of her being a regular was somewhat concerned, “How often have you been going?”

His voice was a mixture of stern and worried, his eyes somewhat squinted in a glare. She looked as if she had committed a crime at the tone of his voice, “Every day… from the time class was over until they closed.”

His eyes widened, “Jesus y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to study. I need to do well.”

“I understand that but you can’t work yourself to the brink of death.” He grabbed the coffee out of her hand and emptied it into the sink, getting rid of the cup afterward.

She whined at the motion, watching him in horror as if he just hit a bird with his car. He walked back over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “Tomorrow you are not going to touch a single book, I won’t even let you touch your computer.”

“But-”

“Nuh-uh, nope. No computer, no books, no papers, no anything school-related. We are going to stay in your bed and watch movies all day and eat properly.”

“I eat properly!” She exclaimed in offense.

He gave her a look that said all the different, “Sure. Now I can only hope you still have some of my clothes here somewhere because I do not want to talk to my dorm right now.”

She pointed in embarrassment to one of her draws, “In there.”

He kissed her forehead and grabbed the clothes before heading for the bathroom, “I’ll be back and I better not see you do any work when I get back.”

She nodded but as soon as he left she ran to her backpack and grabbed her computer. She rushed to finish the last two paragraphs of her essay before he got back but luck was not on her side as she was halfway through her last paragraph and the doorknob turned. She had been so focused on writing that she didn’t care that he entered, “Just let me finish my last paragraph.”

He sighed, dropping his clothes into her laundry basket. He walked back to her bed and looked at her, “Last paragraph?”

“Mhm.” She nodded and scooted over so Luke could sit next to her, “Fine. I don’t want you to lose your train of thought.”

She beamed up at him and kissed his cheek before returning to her work.

✧༺✎༻∞

Ever since then, he had been careful with how much he left her alone in exam season. He always called on road trips, always went to the library with her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself, always made sure she was eating properly and always made sure that she was okay. But now being 603 miles it was hard to do that for her. 

Luke was packing a bag as fast as he could, looking at his laptop for the earliest flight out of there which wasn’t until early the next morning, leaving at 7 and not arriving until 9. Then he would have to wait to get a car and do a 30-minute drive to Ann Arbor. He groaned at the time and went to throw something, at that point he could drive there and be there before getting a plane but he was in no state to drive. 

He continued to try and call her for 30 minutes, on the brink of giving up at that point. Her phone was still dead and she had yet to realize it. She had music playing through her earbuds attached to her computer, typing about something that she considered stupid and unnecessary. She only took breaks to take a sip of coffee or to groan and throw her head back in exhaustion and frustration. 

Luke threw his phone on the bed, running his hands down his face, falling asleep not even five minutes later. Y/n was the same way, she closed her laptop as she finished her last sentence, finally allowing herself to take a break. She got up to go make a burrito in the kitchen, waving to her friends who were also still awake at the time. 

She went to turn her phone on and that was when she realized the lack of battery it had. She shrugged it off and put it down on her nightstand before walking back out to eat and finish watching the movie with her roommates.

✧༺✎༻∞

She didn’t go to bed until almost three in the morning despite finishing the movie four hours ago. Once they finished, she looked at the piles of paper and study guides she still had to do and sighed. Deciding that her first class wasn’t until noon, she could easily get done with one or two study guides or an essay in three. 

She curled up on her bed when she was done and wrapped the blankets around her tightly. When she woke up and went to look at her phone and saw a tweet from Amanda from an hour ago, “Luke is not at morning practice due to personal reasons. Should expect him back for Saturday’s game in Columbus.”

She immediately woke up at the fact, looking back at her other notifications. There must’ve been at least a dozen missed calls from Luke and 15 text messages. She could only think about the worst, if he had gotten hurt but just didn’t want to tell someone, if he had been so drunk that he couldn’t think straight, if he had a panic attack last night. Her thoughts raced but halted when there was a knock on the door.

She went out to the living room, still clad in her sweats from the previous night. Her friends must’ve either already left or were still sleeping. She walked to the door, peeking through the peephole and gasping. She all but ripped the door open, “Lukey?”

He smiled when he saw her, immediately feeling better. Her eyes were still the same from the first time he had experienced her like this and he knew there would probably be a coffee pot brewing in the next few minutes, but he was here now and that was a wave of relief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls and I know you were studying last night so you probably wouldn’t have answered them anyway. But when I saw you called during the game I got worried because you never call. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you weren’t overworking yourself but i can tell that you are.”

She frowned at his words but also felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him flying out just because he wanted to ensure she was okay. She stepped aside to let him in and then led him to her bedroom. It was cleaner than what he had witnessed in the past years.

“You can’t just fly out every time you think I’m overworking myself, Luke.”

“I know but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried, really worried.” He held her hand, playing with her fingers as a form of comfort, “How long were you up to last night?”

She hesitated before responding, “3…”

He only sighed and tugged her closer to the bed so they could lay down, “Luke I have class in two hours.”

“I know but just for a little bit, and then I’ll take you to class.”

“You still know you’re way around campus?”

“Did I ever know my way around campus?”

She shook her head and laughed, “No.”

He smiled at her laugh, “You do realize I’m only going to be allowing you to rest while I’m here right?”

“But I have one more essay to finish.”

He glared at her, “Fine, but after that, you are going to be right here, in my arms, and not thinking about school at all.”

“Deal.”He kissed her before allowing her to get up and get ready for class. They both walked on campus to her class with the same thought, grateful that Luke had come to see her. Even with being 603 miles away from each other, they would do anything to be there for one another.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@jasminecaskry85 | @lilyevanswhore | @shoesjr13 | @Exonct07 | @dancerbailey3 | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @prettyinsatiable | @hearts-4-luke | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @elegieseulogise | @crazycat-ladys-blog | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @klkennedy | @hockeyboysarehot | @whoopwhoop123 | @dasiysthings | @rleigh-47 | @ivy-34 | @itsnotgray | @daisysnhl | @love4ldr | @love4lando | @dyslecticdutchman | @thescooby-gang | @biscuit-muffin05 | @toasttt11 | @fratboyharrysgf0201 | @http-aatp | @biggiesmallspots | @kei943 | @Studio_reader | @ru-kru | @zebraszegras | @sleepybesson | @lausdigitaldiary | @eleutherafairy | @hockeygirl101 | @fearfam69691 | @skoolnites | @bunting58 | @francesfarhadi

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader

[tetsuskei]

belonging - portgas d. ace [nsfw]

synopsis: it’s never the best time when it’s his birthday, but luckily he has you to show him differently

notes: two days late, but this is the bday fic dedicated to my soul, my luvr boy. poured so much into this that it kinda doesn’t make sense but we will roll with it <3 kicking off the year with him and wouldn’t have it any other way !

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, self doubt, depression (ace has some dark thoughts), anxiety, praise, nipple biting and sucking, body worship, barely edited so probably lots of typos, reader has fem body parts

ace always assumed that ‘falling in love’ was something that happened to other people, not to him.

his entire life had been a series of doubts and questions to himself. doubts about if he deserved the good things that came to him and the people who entered his life.

but gone were the days where ace let out all his anger towards anyone and everyone in the world. if you could ask anyone about him now, they would have only amazing things to say about him. many see him as a brilliant leader, one not to be meddled with. his brothers admire his never ending strength and courage. his spirit was always there to uplift others.

so who would be there to lift him up?

only you have seen who he is once broken down. once he’s out of the public eye, and behind closed doors, he’s a much more sombre person. he’s clingy, and soft. sad, and vulnerable.

it’s not a surprise to you that he struggles with his mind sometimes. that there are days where he may spend too much time in his head, fighting off demons.

“what am i doing here?” he asked one time. it wasn’t a question directed towards you, and from the empty look in his dark brown eyes, you could tell he was having trouble answering himself.

having the blood of a devil circulating in his veins is a double edged sword. he always told himself to not let where he came from hold him back. that mentality had gotten him this far, after all. it became a driving point for him.

but after quickly rising up in ranks and making a name for himself just like so, his mindset started to change. he began to not really know what he was after. yes, he wants to be more famous than his father, but so what? what would come next?

he focused on a much simpler task. he wanted to live each day without regrets.

many considered ace like the sun. he shined so brightly on his own (literally and figuratively), but in a way, it was a curse. he shined so brightly that if anyone came too close to him, he would burn them. they’d scorch up in flames within an instant.

but you were different. despite how brightly he shone, you didn’t let that stop you. it scared him, to say the least. the only people who he was comfortable being vulnerable with in his feelings were his brothers, and yamato being another person. now you were the fourth.

you had picked and pried at him in a way no one ever had before. getting scorched (literally and figuratively) in the process. you showed him kindness and affection that he only saw in the pages of fairytales.

he knew very little about gentleness. but it didn’t mean it was impossible. the feeling of your finger tips running over his bare skin is enough to soothe him. it makes him feel like he is at home and belongs. and in return, he wanted to give you that same feeling.

he wanted to live, and always come back to you.

ace always seemed more tense around this time of year. a little more gruff, and on edge. but not in a way that makes him dangerous. or, at least to you. he just seemed a lot quieter, and more consumed in his thoughts.

his birthday, as it turned out, had always been a sore subject amongst the whitebeard pirates. no one ever pried too much into his past. even after he told you and several others of his father, of his mother, no one wanted to push him to speak more about it.

you don’t make the most grand gesture out of his birthday, only requesting help from thatch to make a grand spread of all his favorite foods, and small decorated cake.

“i’m not going to ask anything of you, but only for you to have a good time. no sulking, kay?” you told him that morning.

when finally getting time alone with your boyfriend that evening, you sat with him, holding him in your arms as the two of you watched the stars.

ace loved when you talked about the stars to him. you told him once that the constellations that sit in the sky are the same ones projected onto his face in the form of freckles. he thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, until you said one thing.

“the stories written up in the stars are no different from the ones that live in your eyes.”

his eyes always told you what he was thinking. after all, you read him so well. you long since noticed the troubled look on his face, but remained impassive as you know he’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk. for right now, having you as his support is the best thing you could give him.

eventually, he told you that he ‘just wanted to forget about things’ and while you understood what he meant without a full explanation, you wanted to make it known how thankful you are that he’s here. that he was born. that he’s a gifted presence in your life—and so many other people’s.

one thing led to another—shared kisses and words of declarations as you shedded each others clothes off.

right now ace lays under you, a complete mess as you ride his cock. his hat was on your head at first, but now it lays somewhere on the ground.

“ahh~ fuck!” a pretty gasp leaves his rose colored lips, his eyes glazed over with tears. his adrenaline has his blood pumping like crazy, and his cock is of course no expectation to that rule. he’s twitching erratically inside of you, more than likely leaking heavily as he holds back his orgasm. his chest feels tight from how much your cunt is gripping him. it’s like you’re sucking the life out of him.

funnily enough, he’s already cum once, but his stamina, is unlimited. he’d be able to go for hours on end. that doesn’t deter you from your goal of completely fucking him stupid.

ace thinks you look beautiful above him the way that you do. like an angel that descended from the heavens. he doesn’t think he believes in any gods, but he knows surely you were sent by some celestial being to be the best gift he’s ever had in his life.

“you’re doing so good for me, ace.” you hum, leaning over his muscular form to kiss the shell of his ear. he keens when your lips then meet the sensitive juncture of his jaw and neck. your tongue swipes up any access sweat and you hum, cheekily biting him. “taste so good, too.”

his whole body is boiling to the touch, to say the least. black, greasy hair matted to his forehead. his brown eyes are blown out in pleasure, and he thinks he’s dying.

it shouldn’t be possible that he feels this good.

“don’t say that.” he grumbles shyly, hiding his face behind his hand. you pin it down to the bed, eyes glaring down at him.

“it’s true, though.” you argue, “and you feel so good too. always fill me up so well.” you moan, letting your head fall back as you grind down on him, pleasure crawling up your spine as his cock rides up against your cervix, kissing your gummy walls lovely.

“if you keep talkin’ like that i’m gonna cum again…” he warns, whining slightly.

you grin, “that’s the plan.”

ace groans, letting his head fall back on the pillows, “jesus christ, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

you laugh, “i would say death do us part, but i’d like to think we’d follow each other into the afterlife. i feel like that’s the true meaning of a soulmate.”

ace can’t help the tears that permeate at his ducts when he feels overwhelmed with love by you and for you.

“well, i hope that if we’re reborn, we find each other in the next life.” he says breathlessly.

you hum, smiling, “of course we will.”

he’s silent before his hands guide your hips, helping you bounce on him. there’s a deafening squelching sound from the combined slick and it drives both of you crazy.

“you’re so pretty, ace.” you say, kissing the freckles on his face.

he frowns, glaring at you, “the correct term is handsome or sexy. men aren’t ‘posed to be ‘cute’.” there’s a pout on his face and it only adds on to your statement.

you laugh, “sure, baby. whatever you want.”

“‘whatever’ my ass,” he says crudely, “why don’t you make yourself useful and cum on me?” he isn’t asking though, and brings his thumb to your clit.

a sharp breath of air escapes you as you realize how much your impending orgasm is creeping up on you.

“wait…” you start, hand reaching out to stop his own.

he swats its away. “you said to make sure i’m having a good time, and this is helping.” he smirks, “no ‘sulking’, remember?”

you don’t have time to answer when your boyfriend leans over you, taking one of your breasts in his mouth to suck.

a loud moan escapes you once a euphoric pleasure washes over you. you quickly seize up before you realize your cumming hard on him.

ace grunts, closing his eyes once he feels you milking him. you’re a walking sin, and the grievance between your legs would be his downfall.

he hooks his hands under your legs before flipping you over to lay you on your back.

“a-ace…” you stutter, looking up in shock at how much his energy has suddenly changed.

“my pretty girl.” he smiles, kissing your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. “just relax.”

his hips began to steadily rock into you as he takes over the pace, his hefty balls slapping loudly against your ass.

still sensitive, you twitch and jerk under his grasp, feeling helpless and near limp as he rails you.

“nothing ‘cute’ about the way i’m fuckin’ you, now is there?” he grins, hand titling your jaw to the side before proceeding to suck marks into your delicate skin.

a keen slips from your mouth and you try to catch your breath, “o-okay, you proved a point.”

“damn straight.” he moves both of his hands downwards, holding onto your thighs before moving your legs over his shoulders.

the new angle feels as if the wind is knocked out of you. with the way he’s looking at you adoringly, and damn near shattering your pelvis you might as well be conflicted on if he loves or loathes you.

“always feel so fucking good. wish i could stay in you forever.” he moans, biting his lip. “so perfect like this. i’m so lucky.”

you gasp, your toes curling at the way his tip drags itself seamless over your insides. your eyes threaten to roll back but you fight it, seeing how ethereal your boyfriend looks when he’s feral.

he’s never been the best with words, but with the way he takes care of you, especially in the moment you share right now, you can feel the essence of his love. the way his hand reaches grips yours to kiss your knuckles.

“thank you…for always loving me.” he pants, “and for showing me things in life i never thought i’d be able to see.”

“thought i told you to stop thanking me.” you hit him on the head. you pull on his hair but he only groans, cock twitching.

ace pulls back from your neck, “i’m serious, i…i’ve never been this happy before.”

you only smile at him before grabbing his face with both of your hands, kissing him long and passionately.

he ruts into you, chasing his release. his vision is nearly spotting with how sensitive his nerves are, but his body has a mind of its own as it craves endless pleasure.

“s-shit! i’m gonna cum!”

shamelessly, you lock your legs around him, pulling him in closer wordlessly.

he laughs, sweat trickling down his brow, “ah~ you want it again, yeah? can’t get enough of my cum, can you?”

“always need to be filled by you, ace.” you moan, nails clawing helplessly at his back.

you lean forward before your teeth gently sink into a pert nipple, making him shout and swear as his orgasm is triggered.

and as he spills into you again for the second time that evening, you find yourself following him in suspension of death.

ace lays his weight on you, not crushing you, but knowing him and his narcolepsy, he just damn near will in a second.

you use all your strength to turn both of you over, and he grunts. if it was wet before between the two of you, it’s soaking now as his cum trickles down your legs.

“you’re wastin’ it…” he grumbles, holding your hips tight.

“not my fault you’re a human cum geyser.” you retort. “now let me get up.”

he pouts, “just…stay like this for awhile?”

“fine, but you’re cleaning me up.” you warn. “happy birthday, you animal.”

a sleepy grin appears on his face as he kisses the top of your head. “yeah, i love you too.”

and so maybe after all, he could learn a lot more about what life has to offer, especially if that means you’d be by his side. there’s nothing he truly wouldn’t fear anymore. not in life or in death.

#ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #ace smut #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d. ace #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x you

[f1gments]

DETOUR - HAYAKAWA AKI |早川アキ (M)

You and Aki are supposed to be on your way back from a mission, but the rain that’s been pouring non-stop has Aki pulling over to the side of an empty road for safety precautions. It doesn’t look like it’s stopping any sooner, so what better way to spend that time than to have sweaty, breathy, messy sex in the back seat?

MINORS DNI

Pairing: aki x fem!bodied reader

word count: 8.0k

R18, making out, smut, car sex, protected sex, semi-public sex, handjob, oral sex (towards Aki), vaginal fingering, nipple licking, cowgirl position, missionary, vaginal sex, teasing & dirty talk, softdom aki (?), boyfriend aki

he smokes for a little bit. also calls you baby a few times.

authors note: car sex fic among my list of wips that i’ve been wanting to put out for ages, so ya’ll can thank the amount of horny i had in order to push through with this fic lol. also big thank you to my darling @meownotgood for beta reading and revising! and also adding fuel to the aki horny. i give you big kith <3 <3

18+ explicit content ahead. please for the love of god DO NOT interact if you’re a minor.

Aki exhales a long, defeated sigh from the driver’s seat. 

“It looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.” he says, switching the car engine off. 

It's been pouring non-stop from the moment you left the city, but the rain has only grown heavier, to the point where it's difficult to see the road — or anything, for that matter. All you can make out through the droplet-soaked windows are the elusive silhouettes of houses and the blurred lights from the street lamps. The sky is gloomy and dark, puffy gray clouds obscure the sun. 

The two of you were supposed to be on your way back to headquarters after completing a mission Makima had sent you on. According to file reports and a call she received, the Rat Devil was going around terrorizing citizens in a small district on the far outskirts of Tokyo. 

The mission itself was simple: kill the Rat Devil and report back to Makima upon confirmation of its extermination. By the time you and Aki arrived, almost half the neighborhood was killed — or rather, eaten, so there wasn't any need for search and rescue. The devil was dealt with rather easily. You and Aki would have been at headquarters and done with all of this by now, if it wasn't for the sudden rainstorm interrupting that plan. 

So, here you are, parked at the side of an empty road with Aki, biding your time until the rain stops. 

You're a little bored, sure, but this isn't all bad. It feels good to relax a bit before you have to go back to headquarters; you can already see the giant stack of paperwork waiting for you. 

You hum as you shrug off your coat, before leaning your head against the headrest. You stare out the foggy window; there's a couple of houses up ahead that you can see from where you're parked, and beside them is a small playground. The whole neighborhood looks empty, as expected. You don’t think any kids will be coming out to play in this weather. 

The sound of the rain echoes a rhythmic pitter patter against the roof of the car. It's soothing, like it could lull you to sleep. You allow your tired eyes to close, and you almost drift off, but in a few moments, the sudden realization of being stuck in the rain, all alone somewhere secluded with your boyfriend begins to form an idea inside your head. 

It's not the best idea to be thinking of right now, sure. But considering it's been raining non-stop for ages now, and considering you need some way to pass the time, you wouldn't exactly say it's the worst thing you could come up with. 

You're just not sure about getting Aki to agree to it. You can already hear his response in your head: Really? You want to have sex right now? That's… We can't. Just wait until we get home. 

You've been dating Aki for an entire year now, and sex isn’t exactly new to you anymore, since you both gave each other your firsts on the fifth month of being together. But even now, Aki still blushes whenever you undress in front of him, or when you ask if you can suck him off during foreplay. 

He always tells you that you don't have to do anything for him, because he feels good just by watching you come undone on his fingers, his mouth giving you soft kisses on your clit while his tongue gives you long licks until your toes are curling as you cum. He's still the same as when you first met him, too shy to make the first move, and so dedicated to your own pleasure that he forgets about his own. 

And you know he's definitely too embarrassed to consider having sex in a place like this. You've never done anything remotely intimate with him in any place besides the bedroom. Hell, sometimes he's too embarrassed just to kiss you in public. 

You think you have an idea to convince him, though. 

You turn to look at Aki, who has one hand resting on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping a random beat against it. He rests his chin in the palm of his other hand, elbow on the side panel of the door. The rain continues to fall, drumming against the rooftop, as though it’s trying to flood the empty streets outside, to wash off all that is unjust and evil. 

Aki fidgets in the driver's seat for a moment, before you watch him pull out his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants. He lights one up with the baby blue lighter you always see him use, and then he twists the key in the ignition, putting it in accessory mode so only the lights and radio turn on. 

He rolls the window down enough for him to flick the ashes out of it, making the petrichor invade your nose for a few moments. The rich, familiar smell of smoke he exhales replaces it, the wind drifts the scent towards you, along with the faint warm and woody cologne that emanates from him. 

You gaze at his handsome features in awe, admiring his side profile; the dull luminescence overcasting a shadow on his angular jawline and high cheekbones, eyes of welded iron and a gaze just as hard — Eyes that have seen more than anyone could possibly imagine in one lifetime. An upper lip that protrudes a little further than the lower, and cheeks of dusty pink; they soften his expression, and his demeanor of steel.

You shake your head before you end up getting lost in your thoughts any further. You inhale deeply, breathing in the remainder of smoke, and the gentle scent of the cologne clinging to his clothes once again. 

“Hey, Aki…” 

His attention goes to you the second he hears your voice, deep blue eyes scanning your gentle features and your unreadable expression. He notices that you've taken your coat off. 

“Hmm, what’s wrong?” Aki replies softly. “Are you feeling warm? I can turn the air conditioning on for a bit if you’d like.” He reaches for the air conditioning valve on the dashboard, but you grab his hand to stop him, shaking your head. 

“I’m fine. It’s something else.” You peer up at him through your lashes. His hand is warm. 

“What is it?” There’s a look of genuine concern apparent on his face as Aki puts out the cigarette in the portable ashtray he carries in his jacket. He scans all the parts of your body he can see — your arms, your hands, your neck, your shoulders, trying to see if there's any injuries, worried that you might have gotten hurt from the mission earlier. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

You shake your head again with a chuckle, and you grab both of his hands, squeezing them tightly. “No, Aki. I told you, I’m fine. It’s just that...” 

You can't help but trail off; feeling a little embarrassed, you start to fiddle with his fingers, averting your eyes. 

“Spit it out already." Aki sighs impatiently, making you chuckle again. 

“So impatient.” you answer, smirking, to which Aki gives you an unamused blank stare. 

“I was thinking we could do something fun to pass the time." 

Aki raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You lean in closer, and since the space between you and him in the car isn’t very big to begin with, your lips are already inches away from his. 

You cup his chin between your finger and your thumb and whisper, “Like this…” 

At once, you've closed the distance, and your lips press softly to his. Aki's eyes widen, but soon, he's relaxing into the kiss, his shoulders slumping, his eyes fluttering shut. The smell of you consumes his senses: vanilla and lavender, utterly intoxicating. 

When the kiss deepens, he can taste the faint flavor of your lip gloss: cherry and mint. He kisses your lips over and over again like he can't get enough, soft but hungry at the same time. 

You move to climb on top of him, and Aki adjusts himself, leaning back in his seat to give you enough space to straddle him comfortably. Your tongue presses to his; you kiss languidly and deeply, taking time to explore each other’s mouths. Your lips feel so good against his own, so perfect. They're fogging up his mind, like you're demanding him to forget everything except for you — and it’s working. 

Your hands grip tightly onto his shirt as Aki skims his fingers down your shoulders and across your sides, resting them onto the curve of your waist. Right now, neither of you are thinking about getting back as soon as possible, or your lives, or anything like stupid devils and more missions. It’s just the both of you focusing on each other, and Aki’s mind is consumed only by thoughts of how good you make him feel. 

You both pull away breathlessly, foreheads resting against one another. Still catching your breath, you roll your hips into Aki's lap hesitantly, testing the waters. Aki groans, but he gives your waist a firm squeeze, stopping you from continuing. 

“We… we can’t. Not here." Aki looks at you through heavy eyelids. “Someone might see us.” 

You slide backwards a little on his lap as much as the small space will allow, until you feel the steering wheel press into your back. Your hand slowly travels up his thigh, fingers playing with the zipper of his pants. 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” You flash him a grin, but Aki stares back with an unamused expression. You reach up, toying with the earring on his lobe, resisting the urge to pinch his cheek. “Come on Aki, we haven’t seen another car for three hours. I doubt anyone’s going to see us in this rain.” 

Aki doesn't respond, so you take matters into your own hands: in a few seconds, you've grasped the button on his slacks and popped it open. You're tugging the zipper down, relieving some of the pressure when you hear Aki inhale sharply, his eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn't make an attempt to push you away. 

“Stop that.” 

His voice is weak, it's shaky, it lacks the bite you normally hear out of him when you're at work. And even though he's telling you to stop, Aki's body betrays him. You can feel the bulge that's forming underneath his slacks, you notice how he lifts his hips a little to make it easier for you to tug his pants down. Your smirk grows wider. 

“Do you really want me to stop?” you hum, moving closer to whisper into his ear. 

“Baby-” Aki quips sharply, almost like a warning, but you continue your ministrations; you rub where the hem of his briefs meets his stomach with your thumbs, you kiss him softly behind his ear. 

“Don’t you want me too?” You pull back to meet his eyes, and you tilt your head to the side, your lips pulling up into a coy smile. Aki's heart skips a beat at the sight. 

Aki swallows thickly. “I…” 

It’s not that he doesn’t want you. It's just that he'd much rather have you somewhere more comfortable, more familiar. When he's looking at you like he is now, his head spins with the thought of driving you home, tossing the door open only to carry you to his bedroom and pin you to the bed. He imagines your hands gripping the sheets, your voice calling his name with his head buried between your legs, his lips on your clit and his mouth on your pussy. 

No, he definitely wants you, and he can't deny it, he can't stop thinking about it now that you've got him started. 

Before Aki can give you a reply, you lean into his neck, giving him a few soft, teasing kisses on his warm skin, before you pull back and look at him again with the same imploring smile. 

Aki sighs, half in annoyance, half in submission. You can see the affection behind his eyes when he looks at you; deep down, he’s a pile of mush, unbelievably endeared to you. He’s helpless when you ask for things out of the blue like this, especially when you give him such a pleading look with those doe-like eyes. 

Aki takes in a long, steady breath before he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this here?  Wouldn’t it be better if we wait until we get home?” 

“I’m sure. Besides,” You nod softly, smiling, “Don’t you think it’s a little exciting to fuck me in the car?” 

Oh, Aki thinks it’s very exciting. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he gets a certain rush just by imagining it, it's a kind of feeling he's never felt before. His dick throbs in his briefs when he thinks of fucking you in the backseat of the company car, and in public, no less. 

Part of him is still nervous — What if you both make a mess, what if someone catches you? But another part of him wants to chase that rush, he wants to have you right here, and right now. 

He tries to temper the fog in his head, focusing on the feeling of you against him. It's difficult when his heart is thumping loud in his eardrums, and when his core is thrumming with anticipation and need.   

“I need you, Aki.” 

Sometimes, he swears you can read his mind. 

“I need you too.” he replies, and you don’t miss the faint pink color dusted on his cheekbones. Aki swallows, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Just this once. We'll do this just this once, got it?”

Aki motions his head over to the back seat, and you take the hint, quickly climbing into it. He follows suit shortly after, and everything is a blur of clothes coming off and hungry, heated and sloppy kisses. You're left in just your underwear, and Aki is left in just his loose work slacks. 

You can feel the familiar rush of white hot want course through your veins.You’re sure Aki feels the same way because in between kisses, when your hand goes back to stroking the tent in his pants, he seems to have only gotten harder. You give him one last firm squeeze, pulling away to position yourself on your knees in front of him. 

It's a tight fit; the company cars are spacious, but you're still crammed in between him and the back of the front seat, it leaves you to rest your head on his legs and press your chest to his knees. 

“What… what are you doing?” Aki stutters nervously, squirming a little in his seat when you reach for his slacks. You tug them down his legs the rest of the way until they're pooled at his ankles. 

“Making you feel good.” 

Your fingers feel warm on his skin when you push them under the waistband of his briefs. You help him out of them, his length bounces up to tap his stomach when you tug them all the way down. The sensitive, pink head tingles when it brushes against his skin, causing Aki’s entire frame to shudder with need. 

You waste no time gripping the base of his cock and spitting on the leaking tip, stroking him slowly. Aki spreads his legs a little wider for you as your palm swipes the tip, getting his length wet with your saliva and his precum; the sensation has him moaning in pleasure. 

Barely squeezing, you slowly move your hand up and down the shaft, you snicker a little when you hear him whimper slightly. You pump his cock lazily, and Aki reaches down, grabbing your arm to steady himself, thrusting his hips up into your hand, searching for more. 

And you give it to him; Aki’s head falls back against the headrest with a thud, and he grunts as you start to stroke him faster. “Feels… so good.” 

“More?” you ask, your voice husky. Aki nods feverishly in response.

“God, yes. Please. Don't stop, don't stop...” 

The slick noises filling the car and the sound of Aki's desperate begs add on to the growing ache between your legs, they mix with the echo of the rain tapping the roof of the car and the windshield. He mutters a strained fuck when you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and bring it to your warm tongue, giving the tip a tentative lick. 

“S-Shit…” Aki hisses, his breathing unsteady, “That's it… Keep going.”

At first, you start by just trailing kisses down his tip to the underside of his cock, and Aki shivers at the faint sensation. When you trail back up, starting to take him into your mouth, you feel his palm lay softly on the back of your head, and then his fingers knot themselves into your hair, gripping tightly, holding the loose strands away from your face in a makeshift ponytail. 

Aki watches you with his jaw slack, he quietly moans your name when your cheeks hollow, your head bobbing up and down his cock at a languid pace. 

Aki grips your hair a little tighter. His eyes meet yours, his gaze is heavy with lust and with love. “So good, you're doing such a good job.”

With your saliva involved, every time you suck on his cock with your lips closed, there's a nasty, loud squelch — It reminds him that this is happening right here, that you're sucking Aki's cock in the backseat. He's in so much bliss he's hardly thinking about it, he can only focus on the feeling of your tongue swirling around his dick, of your warm mouth and the tip of his cock slightly touching the back of your throat when he bucks his hips up. 

He rubs the back of your head gently, his eyelashes flutter when he looks at you. 

“Your lips… They're so pretty.” Aki tells you, and you pull away from his cock with a loud pop. 

“Yeah?” A teasing smile forms on your lips. “And you have a pretty dick.” 

Aki's cheeks instantly blossom with color, petals of dusty rose scattering across his handsome features. His pupils blow out deep, dark and wide. You've always thought Aki has the most beautiful pair of eyes, they're like a door to his soul. Pools of deep dark blue that you could drown inside if you weren’t so busy sucking the life out of him in the back of the sleek company sedan. 

You watch Aki draw his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating, before finally, he gently pushes down on the back of your head, with so little force you almost don't feel it. 

“C’mon… keep going for me, just a little bit, please. Can you do that?" His voice cracks slightly, his tone high-pitched. You smile, nodding obediently, and you move back down to wrap your warm lips around him once again. 

“Mhmm.” The hum of your voice sends vibrations over Aki's cock, causing him to inhale a sharp breath through his teeth. You look up at him one last time, batting your eyelashes before sinking your mouth down on him completely, taking him all the way down your throat. Tears well at the corners of your eyes, and you shut them tight to will them away. 

Aki cries out, his thighs shaking. He stammers, “S-Shit, baby, too much, slow down...” 

He's trying his hardest not to thrust himself into your mouth. His eyes almost roll into the back of his head when he feels the tip of his cock brush the back of your throat again, and he clumsily pushes your hair behind your ears as you suck eagerly on his cock. 

It's so overwhelming, it's so much, it's more than he thinks he can take when one of your hands reaches up to grip the base of his cock, stroking in tune with your mouth, while the other massages his thigh, willing his legs to spread even further apart. But it feels so fucking good, Aki can't help but melt into you. 

“God,” he groans through heavy pants, “You take me so well, p-please, don't stop.” 

The way your hand glides up and down his cock along with your mouth is making Aki forget how to think straight. He feels dizzy, he knows he's getting close to the edge, and if he lets you keep going, he's sure he won't be able to stop himself from cumming. He grabs your wrist firmly — a silent demand to halt your actions — and he catches his breath. 

In compliance, you freeze, and Aki slips his hand up to hold the side of your face, to cup your cheek and slowly coax you up while he leans down. 

“C'mere.”

He pulls you into a fervent kiss, you press your palm to his chest and push him back into the seat until you can straddle his thighs and settle into his lap. 

Aki can taste himself on your tongue; it makes him feel high, but as you lift your hips, grinding your clothed cunt against his length, getting your underwear soaked and filthy and making Aki moan into your mouth, he suddenly stops you. He reaches down, he grabs your waist and causes you to freeze, pulling away from his lips, a confused expression on your face. 

No, no more. He needs you right now.

“I… I want to cum with you.” Aki admits, breathing hard, “I need to be inside you when I cum.” 

You nod with a gentle smile. “Okay. Of course.” 

You follow Aki's lead when he brings his palm to the small of your back, guiding you to twist and lay down in the backseat. The space is cramped, your head is propped up on the door, Aki has to slot his knee between your legs to make room for himself. The tight space makes it feel like he's even closer. 

Condensation has formed on the inside of the windows from the heat of your bodies. Aki cranes down to meet your neck. Your breath hitches at the first touch of his lips on your skin, right on your nape, and then down, his open mouth wet and warm on the flesh below your collarbone. 

“I’m gonna take your underwear off, okay?” he whispers softly without pulling away. You nod, and you lift your hips up slightly to allow him to pull down your lacy underwear. He tosses them to the side while he continues to leave gentle kisses on your chest.  

“Spread your legs open for me.” His words are like warm honey, sweet and dizzying when they drip from his lips to meet your ears. 

You obey, spreading your legs eagerly, as wide as the small space in the backseat will allow. Aki’s eyes grow dark with lust when he pulls back and sees your pretty pussy glistening in the low light, soaking wet for him — like a blooming flower, filled with sweet, sticky nectar. 

He grazes his fingers up your dripping slit, he sighs the moment he feels your slick drip out onto the digits. 

“God, you're so wet,” he croaks out, slightly breathless. His head dips, bangs hiding his face, and he tries to compose himself. “I'm gonna put one in.” 

Then, Aki is slowly pressing a finger into your tight walls, sinking it in all the way and curling it into your core, causing you to whine and arch your back, your chest pressing up towards him. You wrap one arm around his shoulders, and you grip his arm with the other, your hips bucking up as another finger teases your entrance before sinking deep inside. 

Your mouth falls open, your brows pinch. Aki kisses your forehead, he tugs you closer and leans down to brush his lips over your neck. 

“Feels good,” you whine, and Aki delicately rubs your clit with his thumb, sighing when he feels your walls clamp around his fingers. 

“Yeah?” He kisses your neck messily, curling his fingers into you deliciously. 

“I’m close, I'm close-” 

Your thighs close around his arm, and Aki slows his pace for just a moment. 

He asks, “Do you want me to stop?” 

Immediately, you shake your head, you plead for him to continue. Aki kisses your neck once more before he brings his lips to your ear, he presses his fingers into your sweet spot while toying with your clit, whispering honeyed words into your ear. 

You're so pretty, you gonna cum for me? Go ahead and cum, baby, I've got you. 

You tip over the edge just as he eases a third finger into you. You chant his name, your thighs shake and he drags his soaked fingers out to messily rub your clit through your orgasm with quick flicks of his wrist. 

Aki kisses you as you come down; it's like time is frozen, like it's just you and him stuck in this moment. Your lips melded to his while you breathe life into him, yet at the same time, take his breath away with each kiss you give to his lips. He only pulls away to catch his breath and briefly bring his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. 

“Hold on,” Aki reaches down onto the floor, searching for his pants. When he finds them, he fishes his wallet out of his pocket, pulling out a silver condom packet. 

“What?” You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyeing him up and down. “Since when have you started carrying those around?” 

Aki replies matter-of-factly, “Since we started dating.” 

You smirk. “We have plenty of those at your house, you know. Thought you didn't want to have sex in public.” 

“Oh, please,” Aki rolls his eyes, “I wasn't counting on using them for something like this. It's just… better to be prepared.” 

It's not a complete lie, although, Aki can't deny he was thinking of the two of you getting caught in something spontaneous when he first slipped the condom into his wallet. He definitely didn't imagine this would be the place he'd end up using it, though. 

You reach up, plucking the condom packet from his fingers, and Aki glances up towards the driver's seat. The sky seems even darker than before, and the rain is still pouring down, battering the glass and obscuring the view. The windows of the car are slightly tinted, and with this storm, there's still no-one to be found. 

You tear open the condom wrapper, and you're sliding the lubricated latex down his hardened cock when Aki turns to look at you again. He settles his much larger hand over your own, he helps you tug the condom snugly on his length. 

“So...” Aki starts, and you look up to meet his eyes. “You were planning on doing this without protection?” 

He's so perceptive, you can't help but laugh. “Maybe. You're right, though. It's better to be safe.” 

Aki's eyes narrow. His expression seems unamused, but the more he thinks about it, the more he considers what that would entail — fucking you raw, the deeper his cheeks redden. Perhaps he should have gone with what you wanted. 

“Hey,” Your voice rouses him from his thoughts, “Sit back for me.” 

As he leans back, settling into the seat, you climb into his lap to straddle him again, pressing your lips to his. Your palms roam up and down his chest, fingertips tracing the scars littered across his toned body. 

His tongue snakes against yours, he kisses you deeply. Your teeth nip at his bottom lip before you detach and kiss his chin, then the edge of his jaw, trailing kisses down his to his neck where you suck beautiful fields of lilac and dusty pink into his pale skin. Aki gasps; his hands drift down your waist, the shape of your hips, and the arch of your back until they begin to knead the soft flesh of your ass. 

You can't wait any longer; you raise your hips and grip the base of his cock, running the tip over your wet folds. Aki looks down, he watches, he bites down on his lower lip. Then, he meets your gaze, his eyes glazed over, his expression pleading. 

Finally, you align his throbbing cock to your entrance, bringing yourself down halfway, slowly. You feel the fat tip of his cock enter you, you feel it stretch you out. Aki throws his head back, his eyes closed. He already feels like he could cum, just from this. Just from being halfway inside you. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, “God, that feels so good, fuck, baby-” 

You're both panting, and you've barely even taken him. 

Aki cracks his eyes open to watch you sink down on his cock, the length slowly disappearing inside you. He sucks a hiss between his gritted teeth when you settle on him all the way, taking all of him in. Your heart is pounding wildly against your ribcage, your head is starting to spin. 

“Too deep?” Aki asks between pants, and you shake your head. A few moments go by, you listen to the rhythmic drum of rain, Aki rubs soothing circles on your back and gives you a minute to adjust. 

It feels so good to finally be inside you. Aki breathes in deeply, he groans when your hips shift. You take another few moments to compose yourself before you lift your hips a little, only to immediately drop back down on his cock, causing a low fuck to escape from his lips. 

You start bouncing up and down his length, and he leans forward, latching his mouth onto your nipple. His hand gently kneads your other breast. You moan softly, hands reaching up to tug his messy hair out of his topknot, until your fingers can run through the strands and your nails can drag across his scalp, making him grunt and his spine tingle. 

“You like that, baby?” you coo, and Aki hums in approval, sending vibrations over your breast. His eyebrows are knitted together, his eyelids are fluttered shut. 

He swirls his tongue around your nipple and kisses your breast before pulling away. Your pace is getting a little faster, a little harder. The car is filled with the sound of skin slapping skin as you ride him, and the needy whines and moans coming from both you and him. 

“I love it, love it so much,” Aki sighs, “S-So wet and tight for me.” 

You grind your pelvis into his, and he grips your waist to help you along. You start to feel Aki raising his hips up from the seat. Ever so slightly, at first, just trying to feel you a little deeper. And then, desperately — he's matching your rhythm and rutting up into you, fucking you as you ride him with needy whines and fragile gasps. 

His expression already looks so fucked-out: his pupils blown, his lips parted, hair down and messy to frame his face. He's practically drooling. 

“That’s it, baby,” you purr as Aki thrusts up into you again, moaning from the pleasure. “Show me how much you like it.” 

“Ngh — fuck.” Your words only seem to spur him on more. Aki digs his nails a little harder into your hips, he shakes his head to get his messy bangs out of his eyes. 

“Oh, yes.” you moan, gripping his broad shoulders to steady yourself, “Right there, please, right there-” 

Sweat drips from his forehead, droplets cascade down his chest. He's fucking right into your sweet spot, to the point where you hardly have to move, you just let him thrust into you. Your ass is slapping against his thighs. Aki kisses your cheek before grasping your chin between his fingers and pulling your mouth onto his. 

The kiss is a wild clash of tongue and teeth, but you break away almost as soon as it begins, crying out when Aki buries himself into you hard. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, gasping over and over again in pleasure. 

Suddenly, Aki's pace starts to slow, he's holding you still and trying to catch his breath. His thighs are twitching, and his heart is pounding, it's so loud he can hear it in his ears. 

“Not… not gonna last much longer like this,” he mumbles, and you sit up to meet his eyes. There's an earnest, loving expression in the back of his gaze when he asks, “Can we change positions?” 

You don't answer, still catching your breath, but you nod your head. Aki rubs your hips, he lifts you and pulls out of you slowly, he kisses your jaw and your throat. You feel his arm curl around the small of your back, and he gently maneuvers your body until you're under him, your back laying flat against the seat. The leather is cool and smooth on your skin. 

Aki takes in the sight of you for a few moments, his eyes scanning your form. He admires the way you're splayed out beneath him; so beautiful, so angelic, as you always are. This time, though, it's a little different. It's a bit different to see you here, to have you in a place like this. It somehow manages to be exciting, but just as intimate as when he has you in his bedroom at the same time. 

He can't hold back from telling you in a sweet voice, “You're beautiful. So beautiful.” 

He closes his eyes, he listens to the drum of the rain for a second. Then, he grabs your waist, squeezing it carefully to let you know he's continuing, before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance. 

Aki is incredibly gentle when he enters you again, like he’s handling glass, easing inside of you slowly. But once he's halfway in, everything is so hot and wet and tight that he's nearly on the verge of losing control, he has to resist the urge to just fuck you senseless. 

He exhales a shaky breath, you watch as his eyebrows furrow and God, it's so good, he's about to bottom out and it's such a snug, tight fit but it's just so right. All you can do is wiggle your hips and sigh feebly under the pressure, with Aki's forehead pressed to yours as he fills you. 

He places one of his hands on your side, while the other grips your leg from where it's falling off the edge of the seat. He tosses it over his shoulder, he buries himself into the hilt. 

“So good, Aki...” you gasp, your voice breathless, desperate. Aki leans down; his tongue flicks over your earlobe, he takes it between his teeth and sucks. His palms roam your body, gliding over your stomach and your sides. He kisses the shell of your ear, his warm breath fans out over it. 

“God, please.” Your head tosses back, and you're begging for him to give you more, only for Aki to ignore your pleading. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, and he kisses down your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. His lips reach your breast, he gazes fondly at the pretty shade of your skin before brushing his lips over your nipple. He licks it with the flat length of his tongue while he reaches down, bringing a free hand between your legs to rub soft circles over your clit with his thumb. You feel a wave of bliss twist up your spine, your cunt tightens around Aki's thick cock and his whole body shudders. 

A shaky moan comes with your next words: “Aki… stop teasing. Please.” 

You wiggle your hips, you whine and grip his shoulders tightly as he continues to kiss and suck on your breast, humming softly. 

“Need you to fuck me, now, please, Aki?” 

A ghost of a smile forms across Aki's face. He pulls away from your chest with a quiet pop, glancing up to meet your gaze. He mumbles, “You sound so cute… you want me to move, right?” 

He rewards you with the slightest thrust of his hips, rutting himself into you, just a little bit. It's enough to make you gasp, to make you grip him tighter and tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He knows you want him to move, he just wants to hear you say it. 

Face warm and with your eyes screwed shut, you murmur his name senselessly, over and over again like a prayer, a plea. You mutter please, please, please again and again as Aki's lips ghost over yours, and then press to the side of your throat, where he kisses and lightly nibbles, leaving impressions of his teeth. 

He tries to hold out, he tries to tease you as much as he can, only moving slightly, just enjoying the feeling of being buried deep inside you and the sound of your pretty voice. But it's hard to resist you, especially when you're begging for him. He longs to give you everything you ask for. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, voice soft and gentle, “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll give you what you want.”

Aki rests his head on your shoulder, and as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones, he quickens his pace, thrusting into you with deep, languid rolls of his hips. He reaches for your hands, pinning them above your head and threads his fingers with your own, holding them tightly. 

He pulls back and meets your eyes; your gaze flickers over his and you watch his brows furrow from the building pleasure. Then, Aki leans in, all the way until he's kissing you and his tongue is slipping past your lips. 

He begins to drill himself in fast, thrusting himself eagerly into you with long, deep strokes. The small space of the backseat causes his body to press up close to yours, and the perked buds of your nipples graze against his chest with every abrupt movement. Aki screws his eyes tightly shut, he lets go of your hands to hold the sides of your face as he kisses you. He focuses on the way your nails rake over his back. 

He kisses you leisurely, deliberately, as if he's trying to capture every inch of your sweet taste on the tip of his tongue. You whimper into his mouth; his cock is hitting the spot that always makes you melt, it's causing you to arch your back into him. His tempo doesn't slow, nor does it falter. He continues to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and causing all your nerves to light up when his pelvis grinds into your swollen clit with each of his thrusts. 

His hand steadies on the curve of your hip, he keeps the connection between your mouth and his as his palm trails lower, further downwards until it reaches the warmth of your cunt. You're soaked with both of your desires, your clit feels slick on his fingertips when he toys with it. 

You grip him tightly, clutching onto him as if your bearings have been thrown and he is the only thing in this world that can keep you grounded — a solid rock amongst the heavy waves. You find sanity in the taste of his tongue, and stability in your hands grasping at his shoulder blades. He's close, so close. 

He pulls away from your mouth, his warm breath mixes with yours, and you immediately gasp, “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” 

Aki responds with a deep groan, his voice husky. “I won’t baby, I’ll give it to you as much as you want.” 

He leans down, kissing the tip of your nose. And then, his tongue presses to your neck, he licks a long stripe up your skin, eliciting a stuttered whimper from your lips. Aki leans his head on your shoulder, he sighs into your nape. It's so cute, it's so sexy that you want him so badly. You're begging desperately under him, when moments earlier you were the one teasing him, like the little minx you always are. 

You're always like this. You can tease him as much as you'd like, but he knows how much you need him. That's why you had him fuck you here, without being patient enough to wait for the two of you to get home. 

The rain is just as steady as it was when you began. It overpowers the echo of Aki's skin hitting yours, it's a quiet sort of lull that soothes you the moment the sound fills your ears. Everything feels slow, warm and sleepy and tinged with electricity. Is this how things always were with him? 

You reach for his face, you cup his cheeks and get him to look into your eyes. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, I love you so much.” Aki responds immediately, breathlessly, and he slows down the rhythm of his thrusts. 

In this beautiful instance of time, nothing matters, absolutely nothing but you. 

You take him into your broad oceans of adoration, care, and unadulterated love. You sweep him out into your calm oceans and away from the rocky shores which expose the jagged edges of his past, a life already lived, that still manages to cut at his bones, that still digs deep into his sanity and claws at the worst of him. 

Right now, you look heavenly, your hair splayed out onto the dark, leather seats, the warm light reflecting off your skin. Aki marvels at your beauty; the way the overcast lighting and shadows from outside cast over you makes you glow as if you're a piece of the moon itself, dislodged and sent down to earth to bring the brightest of lights into his life. An ethereal being for him to love and adore, who he's lucky enough to have all for himself.

Slowly, he works back to his previous pace, but his eyes never leave your form, he never stops gazing at you with such adoration and love. Your heart flutters ceaselessly inside of your chest. 

Honestly, Aki is so turned on he's starting to lose control of himself. The mere sight of you underneath him, in the backseat of the company’s car, in the middle of an empty street — it’s something Aki couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams. And yet, it feels so lovely to have you here, so perfect, he just can't get enough. 

The simmering pressure that's been building up in him, deep and potent, begins to rapidly pool in his core to the point where Aki is sure he won't be able to hold back for much longer. The coil in his stomach is tightening, winding and threatening to snap. His bottom lip is bitten to hell and back, and his parched throat murmurs your name with a harsh sense of yearning. 

Aki looks down at you with a hooded gaze, but he ceases to break eye contact with you. His forearms support his weight on either side of your body as he continues to thrust in and out, following the rhythm that always makes you come undone for him. 

Pleasure consumes him, it consumes you, you're joined in the most intimate way two people could become one. The act is sinful, but it's coated in the deep bond the both of you share, it's intertwined with pure love and utter devotion. 

“A-Aki,” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, babbling as you beg, “I can’t, I have to… Aki, please, I-” 

You interrupt yourself with a loud cry, tossing your head back as you immerse yourself in the very peak of your euphoria. 

“Yeah?” Aki gasps back, fucking you deeply, perfectly, in the way that always brings you to the edge for him. 

“Let go, sweetheart.” He's barely breathing the words, he grasps your chin and stares into your eyes. His thumb brushes over your lower lip. “Come for me – Come all over me.”

It’s impossible to say no. Not when his voice is so soft and convincing, so enticing. Not when he's fucking you this good, bringing you to heaven with every deep roll of his hips. 

You can barely hear the rain outside anymore. The only thing you can focus on is the pleasure, the only sound filling your ears is the echo of Aki's heavy breaths and his desperate moans. You want to drown in this feeling forever, you want Aki's sweet words to melt into your skin, to brand you with his mark. 

The whole car is shaking from the weight of Aki's thrusts as he fucks you into the seat. You're right on the edge, and one more deep thrust throws you over; your thighs shudder, you let go with a scream of his name. Aki works you through your bliss, drawing out your pleasure until the feeling of your walls clamping around his cock has him meeting his end along with you. 

He groans your name, his head drops to your shoulder and his eyes screw shut. His thrusts grow erratic, clumsy, he mutters a mix of yes, and, I love you. He spills a warm load inside the condom as your walls throb around him, milking him for everything he has. 

The white fades eventually, like lamplight dimming behind a shade. Your vision is hazy, the both of you are a sweaty mess in the backseat, and when you breathe in, it’s all musky and good and sweet, just the scent of sex and the feeling of Aki's body pressed closely to yours, his arms wrapped loosely around you. 

After a few moments, Aki pulls out of you, and he pulls you close to him so you're huddled up to him. His heart is beating loudly in his chest, and you can feel it against yours. You breathe in and out, deeply, trying to steady your breathing. Aki does the same. Your hearts sync up to the same steady rhythm. 

The afterglow begins to settle into Aki’s bones. His mind is a complete haze of pleasure, and the only thing on his mind is you, you, you. He sits up a little, and he turns to look at you, only to find that you're already staring back up at him with adoration in your eyes. 

Aki stares into them for what feels like an eternity, stretches of time that must only be mere seconds, but feel like they've continued on for decades, horizons far beyond this unfairly short lifetime. Your gaze is his solace, his home. He knows he's too far gone. 

When he says those three words again, it feels greater than the first time, more than the second. As if with every new time he confesses his love to you, the truth of it engraves itself deeper into his being.

Aki breathes, “I love you.” 

You smile, you lean in and kiss his shoulder. “I love you too, Aki.” 

Aki nuzzles your forehead weakly. He gives the two of you a few more moments to regain composure, and then he pushes himself up, discarding the condom and collecting both of your clothes. He helps you get dressed, he tugs his clothes on and adjusts them so they're just as neat as they were before. You hand him his hair tie as you finish buttoning up your shirt, and Aki ties his hair up before climbing into the driver's seat. 

The rain has finally slowed down to a soft drizzle. Thankfully, when you climb into the passenger's seat and scan the road, you don't see anyone on the streets. You lean your head into the headrest, finally feeling the fatigue of the mission and the previous activities from earlier take over. 

Aki looks towards you. He makes sure you're alright, he reaches for the keys and turns them in the ignition, firing up the engine. 

You meet his eyes. One of his hands grips the steering wheel, and the other reaches for yours. He brings it close to his face, he presses a kiss to your knuckle. He lets go and settles his palm onto your thigh. 

“Come on. Let’s go home.” 

a/n: pls forgive if you see any errors, dumblr likes to fuck up my posts for some reason.

#creaming in my pants when i wrote this #watch me not post for months again after this #feels good to put something out once in a while though #aki x reader #aki smut #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man smut #aki x you #aki hayakawa x you #hayakawa aki x you #hayakawa aki x reader

[wineauntie]

i’ve never requested anything haha, but i hope this works! i love your writing!! <3

jack hughes (or whoever you think fits) fic where reader wears another players’ jersey to a game, he notices, and jealousy (…jealous smut) happens?

thank you! 😘

ALL BARK, NO BITE — Jack Hughes x fem!reader (smut)

summary: wearing your boyfriend’s teammate’s jersey is never a good idea, especially when Jack Hughes is the boyfriend in question.

note: this is my first Jack hughes fic and I am in love with him istg

warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI, jealous sex, choking, hair pulling, spanking, dominant!jack, mean!jack, bottom!reader, p in v, degradation, nicknames like baby; sweetheart; brat and pretty girl, fem!reader, dirty talk, swearing.

word count: 2k+

Shrugging on the borrowed, red material of the New Jersey Devil's signature jersey, you felt as if you'd struck a deal with the devil himself.

Growing up with Dawson Mercer as your best friend, meant that your life has never truly gotten boring. You'd lived beside him since you were nine, the two of you instantly becoming friends. You'd watched him succeed time after time, and when it had announced that he'd signed to a three-year, entry-level contract by the New Jersey Devils the same year you had gotten a job in East Brunswick, the two of you seemed to be destined to remain close.

That is until he ‘double-dog dared’ you to wear his jersey to a game instead of the usual one that your boyfriend, Jack Hughes had gifted you.

Oh, you were a dead girl walking.

The red jersey with the boldened number '91' plastered across was the first thing Jack noticed when he'd searched for you in the crowd and eventually found you. He had noticed Mercer's mischievous grin directed at him all day but now it made sense and Jack's vision burned with envy.

He'd skated through the entire game on autopilot, his shooting more aggressive, his hits more full on and his words more volatile. He'd earned himself two trips to the penalty box, catching your shocked eyes as much as he could, to convey his dismay at your choice of clothing.

You had watched the entire game through half-lidded eyes, groaning as Jack's behaviour became more and more amped up. Your head was in your hands for the entirety of the third period as the Devils led 4-2. You were elated that the team was pulling ahead but you couldn't even begin to fathom how worked up Jack would be by the time the two of you would return home.

The game finished 4-3 to the Devils, leaving the Prudential centre to roar and celebrate the New Jersey Devils win. When you'd met Jack in the tunnel you'd greeted him with a wide smile and a grin, your eyes soft until his blown pupils and firm expression caused you to tense- yet it caused a surge of excitement to flutter through your stomach.

The ride home had been the same. Jack's stoney expression remained settled as you sat in silence, squirming as his hand gripped your thigh, the faint music of the radio drifting through the air. You'd let out small, quiet whines as his fingers trailed closer and closer to where you needed him the most until they retreated– a constant game of teasing.

You'd barely gotten in the door of your apartment before you were pushed against the wood, your back flush against the cold. Jack had his hands on the wood either side of you, trapping you as he leaned into your body.

"Have your fun, baby?" He spoke through gritted teeth, his nose brushing yours as your eyes fluttered shut. "Wearing another man's name on your back, when you come home here practically begging me to fuck you?"

"Jack," you whined, trying to lean toward his lips, only for him to move away, moving his lips to brush your ear. "Please."

Jack clicked his tongue as he shook his head, "No..." he practically growled, causing heat to spread between your legs. "You made your bed, now lie in it." He pushed away from you as you chased his warmth, walking towards the kitchen.

"I think you're all bark and no bite, Jack," you called out to him, your back still against the door. Jack froze in his steps as you gulped. He turned slowly around to face you, his eyes hardened.

"Wanna say that again, baby?" He dared, his pupils blown in desire as you tucked your lower lip between your teeth.

"I–" your voice faltered, as Jack approached you slowly, his eyes remaining on yours.

"You, what?" He taunted hoarsely, his fingers carefully curling around the expanse of your neck. "Not so talkative now are you?"

Your eyes wide with desire followed his every word, your heart thumping as his fingers tightened. Your eyes fluttered shut with a whine as Jack's nose brushed yours once again.

"C'mon, baby," He tutted, his breath fanning across your cheeks as he shifted closer to you. "Open your eyes and say it again." His words were more demanding this time. Your eyes shot open, locking on his, silent pleads echoing from yours to his.

Jack laughed darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as lust completely overwhelmed you.

"I said you're all bark and no bite," you gasped out, as Jack's gaze pierced you. Electricity ran through your body as his gaze darkened further.

"Thought so," Jack clicked his tongue as he hoisted you into his arms. You let out a sharp squeak as he carried you towards the kitchen island and dropped you down onto the marble. You were barely able to take a breath before Jack smothered you with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as you groaned into the kiss.

His hands kept you grounded to the countertop, his fingers curling into the skin above your hips as you tried to lift yourself towards him, your hips bucking desperately.

Jacks head traveled downwards, his tongue trailing down your neck before he paused to bit the flesh above your pulse point, your head falling back as your hand weaved its way into his hair.

"Jack...please!" You moaned with a jolting gasp, your eyes half-lidded with desire, trying to pull Jack away.

"Nuh uh, I'm in charge here, baby." Jack growled, taking your hand and holding it to the countertop. You let out a small whimper as he ripped the jersey off of your body. "You feel good wearing this piece of shit?" He dangled the red jersey with Mercer's name across it in front of your heated cheeks.

"Feel proud that you've riled me up? That you've pissed me off enough to fuck the brat out of you?" He continued, his quick hands working down the buttons of your jeans before he yanked them down your legs. "Feel happy with yourself."

"'m sorry, Jack," you mewled, as he tore your bra from your body, the sting of the material rather satisfying. "Please!" You tried to reach for him again before he pinned you down.

"No," Jack gritted, abruptly flipping you around so that your bare chest was flush against the biting cold of the marble countertop. "No touching." He moved your arms above your head. "Keep these right there."

His grip slipped from your hands as they traipsed down your warm skin, making their way towards your panties. His hand brushed across your heat, your head lulling to the side as you stifled a moan.

"Oh, you are dripping," Jack tutted, dropping his head to admire the wetness spread across the fabric. "Did acting like a brat do this to you, huh?"

"No, Jack...it's all you," you stammered out, trying to arch into his touch. You jolted forward as Jack's hand crashed against your ass causing you to yelp out.

"Stay still," he warned, his hand trailing over your panties before he dragged them down your shaking thighs. You tried to not move a muscle as his steady fingers teased the supple skin along the back of your upper thighs. His feathering touches moved closer and closer to where you needed him the most as you whimpered, your hands clenching ahead of you.

Jack seemed to have noticed your reaction as he moved up your body, his clothed chest leaning down onto your bare back, his hands unclenching your fists and laying them flat, moving them up further so that you could grip the counter edge.

"Wanna feel you," you croaked, as Jack pressed light kisses down your back. He made a noise of agreement and ripped off his shirt, unbuttoning his pants. You mewled as you tried to reach back and touch him, only to be stopped by him.

"Yeah?" He hummed, his hand curling around your neck, pulling you back up against his bare chest. "You're a needy little thing, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll let ya feel."

You let out a cry as Jack thrust straight into you, your heat enveloping him. Your state of desire allowing him to glide against your walls almost seamlessly– the stretch adding to your satisfaction. Your eyes rolled back as he tightened his grip on your neck, his lips brushing your ear as he pushed into you.

"Do you think anyone else could fuck you like I do?" Jack rasped, his cruel voice spurring you on. "Do you think anyone could make you come as hard as I do? Huh?"

"No, Jack!" You moaned out, your breath catching in your throat as his cock continued its merciless hammering. Your hands clenched the countertop as pleasure pulsed through your entire body.

"That's right, baby," he huffed, moving one of his hands down the front of your body, his fingers pinching your hardened nipples. "This pussy was made for me...you were made for me, it's all mine."

A strangled yelp ripped from your throat as he pushed you flat against the countertop, his hand gripping the flesh of your waist as he ruthlessly pounded against you. His hand moved to your hair, his fingers threading through it as his other hand laid a harsh slap to your ass.

"This is mine," he spat, his hand kneading the tender flesh under the warmth of his palm. His unforgiving pace never relented as you crumbled into a wordless state. "And I never want to see it being covered by a jersey that isn't mine."

Your pussy clenched around him as your body rocked against the marble. The cold from the marble seeped into your sweltering skin as you scrambled to hold on.

"That's it, baby..." Jack swore as his grip on your ass tightened. Your body trembled beneath his touch. All you could feel, taste and see was Jack and you relished it. You relished every last second of it. "Do you think you deserve to come, huh? I can feel you getting closer, pretty girl."

You let out an incoherent string of moans at his words as his sweat-speckled chest brushed against your back.

"Hm...seems I've fucked you dumb, baby," Jack hummed, his hand on your neck as he moved your head to the side so that you were face to face with him. His lips pushed firmly against yours, his tongue plunging into the warmth, your moans muffled by his mouth as a tight warmth tied itself in your stomach. He showed no mercy in his pace as he continued his ruthless pumping, his hand tightening around your neck, leaving you breathless in his kiss.

"Come, baby," he demanded, pulling away briefly as your body exploded from his words. Your back arched pushing your chest against the marble as you let go of the built-up tension in your lower stomach. Waves of infinite pleasure rolled through you, your eyes fluttering shut as Jack's hips staggered in their pace before he collapsed around you, his arms trapping you against the counter as the both of you panted for air.

"If I knew..." you began, your eyes half-lidded with pleasure whilst Jack pressed chaste kisses down your neck. "If I knew the jersey would elicit this kind of reaction...I kind of want to do it again."

Jack grumbled and bit your neck, latching onto the skin there causing another moan to vibrate through you.

"You're mine, pretty girl," he muttered, running his tongue over the bruising skin. "and I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon." You nodded slowly before you groggy moved your face to look at his exhausted one. Fire lit in your eyes at the sight of his bare body and worn face, your eyes drifting down to where the two of you were still connected.

"...Round two?"

"Get your ass in the bedroom, baby."

I feel like I should repent for my sins after writing this 🙏

#wineauntie #nhl x reader #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes fluff #Jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes one shot

[little-diable]

In My Arms - Tommy Shelby (smut)

I stumbled upon an imagine about Tommy coming home from war and how the first night with reader would be, but as a historian I just needed to take a slightly different angle on this. I think this is my new fave fic of mine ngl. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy comes home from war, but he no longer is the man (y/n) has once fallen in love with, he’s no longer the man she had once touched without thinking twice.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, talks of war and estrangement, but a soft, loving ending

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.7k words)

The smell of cigarettes hung in the air, a smell she hadn’t picked up for the past years. In the beginning, she had missed it, alighting a cigarette just to feel him near, to get a glimpse of how her everyday life with Tommy would be if he weren’t so far away from home. But then the seasons had changed, and with the war dragging on, the prices of things had risen immensely, the behaviour of those surrounding her had changed, and so the cigarettes were slowly left behind, just like the life she kept mourning.

Now, as Tommy was sitting near her, cigarette hanging between her lips, (y/n) had to bite down the need to ask him to stop smoking, no longer used to the biting smell. Her uneasy eyes kept studying his face, wandering over every inch she had only seen in her dreams ever since Tommy had left for war. Once a man she had known like the palm of her hand, now a stranger whom she only knew the name of. 

“Tommy,” she murmured his name, trying not to spare the way it tasted almost unfamiliar on her tongue any mind. “Can I touch you?”

His piercing eyes met hers, stone cold like the biting breeze keeping those living near them inside their homes. Smoke kept blowing from his nose, leaving the man as if he was the devil himself. She started counting the passing seconds, wondering if he’d ever speak up again. Even though it had been hours since Tommy had returned, (y/n) could barely remember the sound of his voice, aching to hear it like a bleeding-out woman desperate for anything she could cling to stop her bleeding. Yet deep down she knew she was about to bleed out, he could help her no more, nothing but another familiar face becoming one with the cold soil. 

Just as she tried to part her lips, wanting to call out his name again, Tommy cleared his throat. She watched him stub out his cigarette, watched him rise to his feet with his piercing though empty eyes set on her. Tommy came to a halt in front of (y/n), staring down at her for another handful of seconds before he cupped her warm cheek. He moved slowly as if he was waiting for her to flinch from the unfamiliar touch, but (y/n) held still, grasping any chance to be close to him.

Tommy dipped his head down, breath clashing against hers. It had been too long since his lips had found hers, too long since their tongues had met, too long since she had tasted his taste on her tongue. Yet, even though her hunger for his touch drove her on, (y/n) couldn’t help but realise how unfamiliar his lips felt like two puzzle pieces not made to fit. 

“Tommy,” she choked on his name, pulling back to get lost in those eyes she had once loved. Her heart skipped a beat at the smallest hint of a smile widening on his lips, oh how she longed to get a glimpse into his mind, desperate to read his thoughts. “Touch me.”

For a second she felt him moving forward, hands wandering lower to grip her waist, but the second his eyes wandered down to his fingers, the hands that had been dirty from the tunnels only a handful of days ago, he froze. She saw the hesitation swimming in his pupils, saw the fear, saw the pain. Gods how he must have suffered; suffered like no other she had crossed paths with before. 

“It’s alright, take your time.” (Y/n)’s murmurs seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, out of the place he never wanted to return to ever again. “I’m here, Tommy, I’ll always be right here.”

“That’s a nice thought. Something I dreamt of whenever I found myself longing for peace.” A humourless chuckle left Tommy at the words rolling off his tongue. Words that instantly drew tears to her eyes, forcing her to realise that she’d never fully understand what he had been through, the unspoken truth both would have to live with. Though while Tommy didn’t dare speak of the pain he’d been forced to endure, the endless trauma he’d never shake, (y/n) had to accept that she’d never hear of the things he had been forced to do, that she’d never hear of the unanswered prayers he had spoken in moments of desperation. 

No further word left Tommy as he now properly touched her, almost like he would have touched her all these years ago. He pulled her to her feet, lips meeting hers once again, with some more passion, some more heat than before. A moan flushed through her, a sound Tommy almost groaned at. 

With their fingers interlaced, he pulled her towards their bedroom, the door falling shut with a heavy thud. And once again they were engulfed by silence. Silence – something (y/n) had found solace in; silence – something Tommy now feared, scared to pick up on sounds that would foretell his cruel death. 

“Turn around, love.” Wordlessly she turned her back towards him, breath hitching in her chest as she felt Tommy undoing her dress, watching the fabric fall to the ground. Perhaps he was stuck in a dream, still forced to accept the biting darkness around him, but fuck he couldn’t care at that moment, eyes not daring to leave her naked frame. “Lay down, let me have a look at my beautiful wife.”

“Come closer, please Tommy.” He undid his shirt, not daring to meet her eyes, no longer familiar with the feeling of her gaze taking in his marked naked body. He stepped out of his trousers, eyes focused on her naked chest, hoping that the sight of her body could distract him from the demons calling his name. Tommy could only pray that his fears wouldn’t get the best of him, making his cock grow softer, telling her that he no longer wanted this, even though he wanted this more than he could ever express. 

Within seconds he hovered over (y/n), taking in the warm and encouraging smile she shot at him. He could find peace here, with her close, Tommy’s own kind of heaven, he was sure of it. Her fingernails traced his skin, leaving him shuddering as they made their way down his front, finding his hardening cock. She pumped him a few times, feeling him twitch in her grasp, forcing curses to claw through him.

“Fuck me, Tommy, show me how much you love me.” He shifted his weight, wanting to get his hand on her cunt before his cock would force her walls apart. With his eyes flickering down to her heat, he watched her arousal coat his fingers, movements that left her moaning for him. (Y/n) was at his mercy, not daring to move, not daring to do anything that could push him away from her. “Please, just please Tommy.”

His tongue kissed her teeth as he pulled his hand away, replacing it with his cock. Just for a second the both of them couldn’t help but wonder if they had unlearned how to do this, how to touch one another like they wanted to, deserved to. But the moment passed by all too quickly, ripped from them as Tommy thrust into her, groaning against her mouth at the feeling of her tightness around him. 

“Shit, you’re even tighter than I remember.” Tommy choked on his words, slowly beginning to set a comfortable pace that left (y/n) clawing at his back, making her legs tighten their grasp around his waist. The sound of their bodies meeting left the couple panting, knowing that this would be over far too soon, and yet they couldn’t care, couldn’t worry about time slipping through their fingers - not when they’ve grown to count every single minute ever since parting ways. 

“I missed you, missed you so much.” Even though (y/n)’s words dripped with love, love Tommy felt for her just as much, she knew that these were the wrong words to leave her the second she had spoken them out loud. The speed of his thrusts began to falter, Tommy had fallen straight from heaven, clashing to the cold ground like a disowned angel locked out of the pearly gates. 

He kept on fucking her, kept on moving with almost soulless eyes. The sight tore her heart to shreds, fingers moving up his face to his hair, murmuring his name. But Tommy didn’t react, at least not till a loud “Stop!” clawed through (y/n). He froze on top of her, eyes squeezed shut as if he was hiding away from her.

“Look at me, Thomas.” The use of his name forced Tommy to follow the softly spoken command, glassy eyes meeting (y/n)’s. “Oh, love. It’s alright, you’re safe, you’re with me. I won’t let anybody harm you.”

A tear rolled down Tommy’s cheek, a tear she kissed away, needing to take away his pain. For a second they kept holding still, clinging to one another, but then he kissed her palm, moving once again. Within seconds their pain once again turned into love, trying to focus on the way their bodies were connected so intimately. 

Tommy’s thumb found her bundle, rubbing it to match the speed of his thrusts. His touch pushed (y/n) closer to the edge, and yet she didn’t dare close her eyes, not wanting to miss the pleasure tugging on her husband’s features. A sight so pure. A sight so raw. A sight so loving.

He kissed (y/n) as he felt her clenching around him, letting go with his name leaving her. The sight was enough to make Tommy follow her down the edge, eyes fluttering close, lips parted as he imprinted himself on her walls. He plopped down next to her, arm instantly finding its way around (y/n)’s waist to pull her close.

“I love you, and,” she felt him swallow heavily before he kept on speaking, softly whispering the words, “and I missed you too, so much.”

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine

[castieltrash1]

any update on the charlie fic? i’m literally so excited i cannot contain myself ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

ya :D 2200 words and the smut is abt to Really Start !!! sorry for the delay !!! it'll def be out by this weekend at the latest :P aiming for friday!!!

#charlie walker #answered #anonymous #fic: the devil has come home #NEW TITLE HEHEHE #lmk if u get the reference <3 xoxo #scream 4 #smut

[0oolookitsme]

Buckle up besties because I'm taking y'all on a wild ride! I'm hosting 'Kinktober', which means that kinky-smutty fics will be on your dash for the whole of October! We'll be celebrating for 7 days -- the fics will be spread out throughout the month. The titles and descriptions will be added along with the fics, and the schedule will be like this:

2 OCT, Mon: (DWD!Harry x DWD!Y/n) Guided Masturbation, Phone Sex

Been Thinking - Harry calls Y/n to tell her that he would be staying in the office for the night, but Y/n'd been thinking about him all day and just wanted him so bad. (WC - 1.6k)

...

7 OCT, Sat: (Artist!Harry x Housewife!Y/n) Praise kink, Face Sitting

Better than the Dream - In which Y/n woke up on rubbing against Harry's thigh in her sleep and when Harry offers to take care of her, she can't help but let her insecurities creep-up on her. But, Harry still ends up persuading her into enjoying her time while their toddler's gone. (WC - 1.7k)

...

9 OCT, Mon: (Model!Harry x Fashion Designer!Y/n) Mommy kink, Dry Humping, Mirror Sex, Over Stimulation

Another One? - Y/n told Harry that if he's good for her throughout their time at the small get-together, she would reward him at the end of the night. But, Harry ends up getting a bit overwhelmed, and then rebellious -- causing Y/n to, instead, punish him. (WC - 4k)

...

14 OCT, SAT: (Baker!Harry x Florist!Y/n) Thigh Riding, Teasing

The Thigh Tattoo - In which Y/n finally accepts that Harry's tiger tattoo is her favourite, and finally shows it some 'interest'. (WC - 2.1k)

...

16 OCT, Mon: (Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n) Daddy Kink, Face Fucking, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink

Daddy of Three - Harry is such a good father that Y/n can't help but want another baby, and who is Harry to deny her what she wants? And, while he is going to be a daddy for two -- he can't help but point out that Y/n needs one at all times, as well. (WC - 2.2k)

...

21 OCT, Sat: (Singer!Harry x CEO!Y/n) Sir Kink, Degradation Kink, Choking, Begging, Spanking

So Despicable - In which once Y/n is home, she can't help but feel as if something is off with Harry. She only comes to know the cause once he's got her laid across his lap and is telling her just how despicable she is. (WC - 2.1k)

...

23 OCT, Mon: (Devil!Harry x Assassin!Y/n) Knife Play, Biting, Marking

Feel Special Now? - Y/n pulls Harry's leg by asking him why she can't mess with the devil. How else were she to feel special? Thereupon, Harry makes sure she knows just how many merits she has for being dear to him. (WC - 1.5k)

...

MASTERLIST

Please come into my inbox and tell me your thoughts, feelings, and favourite moments. Feel free to send in requests, and ask if you want to be added in the taglist for this! Thank you <3

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles ff #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #dom!harry #mean dom!harry #soft dom!harry #sub!harry #domrry #subrry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles au #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic recommendation #harry styles fic rec #harry styles mature #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styes blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #kinktober

[kingcrow01]

DC x Marvel Fic Recs

@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest

Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with

Peter Parker / DC Series:

The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone

Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.

Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana

So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.

Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby

Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.

Pizzaverse Series by Irisen

A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.

Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress

Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.

Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool

Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.

Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent

Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.

Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:

Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel

After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.

from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic

Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.

The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13

Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock

Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone

What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.

Echolocation Series by Firecat23

Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Peter Parker slash fics:

Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker

Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones

Quiet Respite by @faeriekit

I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.

Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider

a shining spider web by Selador

Needling by LaughingFreak

How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05

My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:

The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin

After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.

Arachnomaly by @songue85

The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.

time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN

Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.

All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:

Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone

Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana

Read the initial notes first.

Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion

Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy

This Was Home by @emmacortana

The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics

and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913

What happens in New York by @violent138

A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba

Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo

One Dead Spider by Miellonek

If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.

#dc #marvel #dc x marvel #fic rec #spiderman #spider man #peter parker #ao3

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ game day ] n. hischier

day seven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) flies into the states early to surprise and watch her boyfriend play a game before he goes on the short Christmas break

warning(s) : none

author’s note : sorry that this is on the shorter side but i am tryinggg to catch up on fics for the marathon (i timed this out really poorly bc i didn’t realize how exhausted i would be from work everyday)

༺═──────────────═༻

The plane lands 20 minutes before game time so she has to rush to get to the Prudential Center from Newark airport. It should only be a 10 minute drive but it’s a few days before Christmas so everyone is flying in to spend the holidays with their families.

Including (Y/N).

She's lucky that her Uber is waiting for her right outside the airport after she grabs her suitcase from baggage claim. There is already a ton of traffic leaving the airport and she groans as she checks the time. She's going to miss warmups but maybe she can get there in time for puck drop.

There's a text from Nico that comes through as she finally leaves the airport.

neeks ❦ - 6:59 pm can't wait to see you after the game. gonna score a goal or two for you tonight. text me when you land. i love you, mien liebling ♡

(Y/N) realizes that he's back in the locker room between warmups and puck drop. Traffic finally begins to clear up so the Uber speeds up going into Newark. Her knee bounces in the backseat as she keeps an eye on the time.

"Anxious for the Devils game tonight?" The Uber asks with a thick New York accent. "I see you're headed to the Rock."

"Just anxious I won't get there in time for puck drop," she replies. "My boyfriend is playing in the game and I wanted to surprise him before the puck dropped but I didn't realize how much traffic there would be two days before Christmas."

The Uber looks very surprised when she says that her boyfriend is playing. "Devils player, I hope?" he curiously asks as he looks in the rearview mirror at her.

"Yeah," she replies. "I'm not wearing 13 for no reason."

"Ah, the captain," he says as he pulls out front of the Prudential Center. "Good choice. Well, good luck to the boys tonight. Hopefully they can bring home this dub against Detroit."

Yeah, me too. She doesn't say it out loud as she gets out of the car. She grabs her suitcase and heads around the building where she knows Nico parks all the time.

(Y/N) puts her suitcase in the trunk of Nico's car with the extra key she has before she heads to the back entrance of the building. With a flash of the VIP badge and ticket that she bought to security, (Y/N) gets into the back entrance of the Prudential Center with no issues.

She can hear the starting lineups being announced as she rushes through the concourse so they haven't even gotten to the National Anthem yet as she practically sprints to the seat she bought.

The singer is being announced as she walks down the steps to her front row seat right next to the Devils' bench. Luckily, Nico is standing closest to the glass on the ice as the singer begins to sing.

She isn't being very subtle with the way she's walking in front of everyone. When she looks on the ice, she sees that her boyfriend is looking at her. Nico smiles and bites his bottom lip when she looks at him. She gives him a small wave then shows him the jersey she's wearing. He has to repress the smile that threatens to spill onto his lips.

Then applause breaks out throughout the arena, signaling that the anthem has ended. Nico puts his helmet back on and skates to his teammates. (Y/N) settles down in her seat and sends Nico a 'looking good out there' text she knows he will see at intermission.

Their eyes occasionally find each other throughout the game. Jack even notices Nico looking toward her at one point during a power play and says something to his captain. Nico's face turns visibly red when he looks at his alternate. Jack laughs at whatever Nico says to him. (Y/N) can't help but capture Nico's flustered face as he gets ready for the faceoff. She'll have to ask him about it later.

Timo scores one in the second period and one in the third. Tyler scores the game winner with eight minutes left in the third, and the Devils hang on for the win. Nico gets a couple shots on goal but no puck luck.

As first star of the game Timo gets interviewed on the ice, (Y/N) makes her way to Nico's car.

She doesn't know if she's shivering from how cold it is outside or if it's because she's excited to see her boyfriend for the first time in over a week. Either way, her entire body is shaking.

While she waits for Nico, she leans against his car and scrolls through social media. There are clips of her arriving to the game and Nico's reaction to seeing her all over Twitter. She can't help but share one of the videos of Nico's reaction with a little heart emoji. The replies and quotes start rolling in almost immediately. The Devils fans are loving the confirmation that Nico was looking at her during the anthem.

The door opens and (Y/N) watches Nico walk into the parking lot with Jack, Luke, Jonas, and Timo. She smiles and walks up to the group.

"Congratulations on your two goal night, Timo," she says to get the group's attention. "And first star." Timo smiles in response but doesn't have time to say anything before Nico finally makes a move.

He immediately envelopes her in a hug as soon as he processes that she's standing in front of him. She giggles when her boyfriend lifts her off her feet. She wraps her legs around his waist so she doesn't fall. "I think that's our cue to leave," Timo tells the Hughes boys as he walks in the direction of his car.

Jack laughs, "Have a good night, cap."

"Use protection," the youngest Hughes states as he, Jack, and Timo head to their cars. She smiles at Luke's comment.

Nico has no reaction to what his teammates say. He's busy burying his face in (Y/N)'s neck and holding her in his arms. "

They stay like this for a few seconds before Nico finally sets her back down on the ground. His hands cup her jaw and she wraps her arms around his waist under his jacket. "I thought your flight was going to get in while I was playing," Nico finally says to her.

"And miss your last game before the short winter break?" she asks with a smile on her lips. "Absolutely not. I know you guys haven't been playing very well and I know how that's been making you feel so I wanted to be here tonight. Proud of you and the boys for bringing in a win going into the break."

A little frown forms on his lips. "You didn't have to leave your family early just to be here for me," he tells her. "Oh my God."

She fixes his beanie and lets out a light laugh. "They told me to come back," she admits to him. "I told them about our conversation after the last game and how I wished I could be there for you because of how frustrated you were so I switched to an earlier flight. Seemed to do the trick because you won tonight."

Nico smiles and shakes his head. His thumbs run over her cheekbones and he sighs. "I truly don't deserve you," he quietly says. "Best girlfriend ever."

"Best boyfriend ever," she retorts as she gets on her tiptoes. They share a quick, soft kiss that Nico tries to deepen but she doesn't let it get too far away from them. "Can we go home? I miss Nala and her cuddles."

He laughs at the mention of their kitten that they adopted a month ago. "Yes, we can go home," he says. "Pretty sure Nala misses you too. She cried right after you left and has slept on your side of the bed every night you've been away."

They get in the car and Nico takes off the beanie. Her jaw drops.

"You asshole," she gasps as Nico starts the car. "You cut your hair."

Nico smiles and she runs her fingers through his shortened locks. "It was too long, liebling," he laughs as he pulls out of the parking spot. "It was getting in the way more often than not." She pouts and Nico notices. "It'll grow back, baby. Promise."

"And you better not cut it again without my approval," she retorts. "You know how much I love the longer hair. Don't make me hide all of the scissors in New Jersey and New York, because I will."

"So dramatic."

"You love me anyway."

He glances over at her with a small smile on his face. "Yeah, I do."

༺═──────────────═༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dancerbailey3 @dasiysthings

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fluff #malia’s christmas marathon

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [8].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. swearing, vomit, heeseung is sick, tormenting said sick man, sex jokes, and loser hee backstory reveal. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. merry christmas. my gift for u all is the heeseung chapter. let's pretend that it's still summer for the sake of the fic yes thank u hope u enjoy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.

“I THINK HEESEUNG IS IN A FIGHT CLUB.” That unprompted statement catches the interest of all the four boys currently in the living room. Soobin looks up from his half-finished crocheted bonnet, Jake and Jay pause their game of scrabble, and Sunghoon drops a rubik’s cube on your face because you gallantly decided to use his lap as a pillow on the lounge sofa. 

“Oh god, I’m— I’m sorry,” he sputters out an apology. You take this as a sign to stop invading his space. “What do you mean though? Fight club? Heeseung?”

“Listen.”

You spring up from your position, sitting with a very determined look on your face which simply prompts their attention further. “Heeseung leaves the house at exactly 10 p.m. every Saturday night and comes back at like two in the morning. I asked him about is once, and all he said is that he’s doing ‘business,’ whatever the fuck that means. It’s suspicious as hell.” 

The only reason why you were up at 2 a.m. to catch him in the act in the first place is because one time, you challenged Beomgyu and Jake to a no-sleeping contest and those two are the most gullible and have the most money from the lot. Little did those suckers know that you slept for fifteen hours prior to challenging them. They dozed off at the thirty six hour mark while you were still awake enough to catch Heeseung sneaking into the house at the devil’s hour.

After that, you had more money in your bank account, and a new curiosity that’s begging to be satisfied.

“I think he’s in an underground fighting club,” you declare. “There’s no other reason.”

“No, no,” Jay contends. “It might be something else. He could be a stripper.”

A silent moment of consideration.

Then you all release a unified, “Nah.”

“Maybe it’s private,” says Sungoon. “What—whatever it is, it could be none of our business.”

He has a point, but you’re nosy and bored. So are Jake and Jay because turns out, today’s a Saturday, and you have nothing to do, and you’re acquitted from any charges of instigating things because it’s Jay who announces, “Should we follow him?”

You grin. Sunghoon doesn’t approve of your expression. “We should follow him.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.”

“Text us when he’s about to leave.”

“You got it.”

Thus starts your mission of finding out whether Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper. Sunghoon refused to be a part of it, but Soobin wasn’t strong enough to deny your puppy dog eyes, so it’s you, him, Jake, and Jay who might be charged for stalking and invasion of privacy because the moment you get a signal from Jake that “the target is out of the house, over,” the four of you, willingly or otherwise, start to tail him.

It’s disconcertingly easy to follow Heeseung without him noticing the four not so discreet people lagging behind him. When he takes off on a bus, you quickly hail a taxi for the four of you to jump inside of and continue the trail. 

“I think—I think we should head back,” says Soobin, squeezing his arms against his torso because there are three of you cramped in the backseat. “The sky is glum. I think it’s gonna rain.”

“The sky is glum because it’s the fucking night. Mr. Sun has died. Wait, he just got off the bus. Let’s go, let’s go before we lose him!”

As you stalk down the sidewalk, you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu because you swear you’ve crossed this same path before. You’ve been here before. You’re sure of it, and it’s not just because this area is just around your university, of which you haven’t stepped foot on since the beginning of summer and since living with Jake and his friends.

“Hey, he’s over there, he’s going to that cafe.”

Your deja vu is answered when the familiar facade of The Lounge shows up right before you. Heeseung enters the building. Sunghoon knew all along, that fucking rat. That’s why was so against this plot, that’s why he refused to tag along with you. “I’m going in,” says Jay. You postpone your revenge plan against Sunghoon for later and quickly follow behind Jay into the cafe. Once you enter however, it starts pouring.

The clear glass windows of the place get stained by an assault of raindrops. Crap. None of you brought an umbrella. “I knew it was going to rain…” Soobin laments, and you pat circles against his back to apologize for doubting him, further telling him that he has a knack for weather prediction and if he’s considering switching career paths.

“What now?” Jake asks.

“We can wait for the rain to stop or call Sunghoon to pick us up and bring us umbrellas,” you tell them. “For now, let’s find out what the fuck Lee Heeseung is up to here. This wasn’t part of any of our calculations.” The calculations being either violence or promiscuity. You didn’t make a lot of calculations.

The problem is, Heeseung is nowhere to be found. You end up ordering some drinks and food and decide to settle in a booth at the corner of the place so that you guys can have a full and complete view of the cafe’s entire interior, yet you still can’t find him, so you end up reminiscing the time Sunghoon dumped your lemonade on you which catapulted your hobby of messing with these guys because they become so nervous around you it’s funny.

“Did we enter the wrong building? Did he catch us tailing him and left through the back door?!” 

You doubt Jake’s presumptions, and you’re correct to doubt him because right at that moment, Heeseung finally shows his stupid fucking face.

Not only does he show his stupid fucking face— he shows his stupid fucking face on the mini stage in the other corner of the cafe with a freaking guitar. What? So he’s not an underground fighter? Heeseung leans into the mic and a singular “ah,” resounds from the speakers mounted on the walls, muting down the muffled sound of the rain outside in that single instant.

When Heeseung starts to play the instrument followed by the sound of his voice, the rain is forgotten entirely.

This is a surprise. This is unexpected.

“This is disappointing,” says Jay, and you snap your head at him with eyes wide in alarm and disbelief because what does he mean disappointing? Disappointing where? You’ve been living with an angel all this time and you didn’t know? 

“Yeah, it’d be cooler if he was in a fight club,” Jake adds, as if their friend isn’t putting the Billboard’s Hot 100 to shame right now. What kind of bullshit are they saying?

“Did you guys know he could sing like that?”

The three look at you, even Soobin, and respond with a yes, a nod, a hum. Your mouth gapes. But you don’t get why you’re surprised when these guys have known each other for years prior to you barging in unannounced— so, of course they know, of course you don’t, and in the midst of all this, your thoughts are interrupted by the sharp screech from the speakers, because Heeseung has stopped singing, and is instead now looking at your table, looking more alarmed than you.

You’re pretty sure your eyes met before he decided to bolt out of the cafe.

“Oh, he’s getting off stage. Maybe he’s going to greet u— why is he skipping our table? Why is he running outside? Hyung, wait!”

None of you end up chasing after him because it’s still pouring outside, and you can already predict what the aftermath of this is going to be. Thus concludes your mission of finding out whether or not Heeseung is secretly an underground fighter or a stripper, with the answer amounting to neither because Heeseung is a performer during The Lounge’s open mic nights, and you don’t get why he’s been acting so secretive about it all this time.

Heeseung wakes up feeling like shit. And not the regular kind of shit. He feels like Satan just chewed him up, only to spit him back out— slobber and the inferno’s of hell included because he’s sweating through his shirt, his blanket feels like a prison, but if he kicks it of, he gets attacked by cold flashes, so he’s in a sticky and uncomfortable limbo between overheating and freezing to fucking death.

His throat is dry. The only thing that escapes his throat is a guttural and inhuman rasp. He wouldn’t be this sick if he didn’t run out in the rain last night. 

Rather, he wouldn’t have ran out if you weren’t there last night.

Heeseung rolls to his side with a groan of pain and anguish, muffled against the pillow as a different kind of fevered heat washes over his face. Seriously. Why the fuck were you there last night? He could give less than two shits if his roommates find out that he sings Taylor Swift every weekend at The Lounge, but you— you’re a different story. Because he knows you’re gonna use this information against him somehow, just like how you like to fuck around with his friends.

Too much. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much for him. The time you chased Beomgyu around the house in the dress(?) Jay made is the only evidence he needs to affirm that.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t have bolted out like that immediately after meeting your eyes. You already suspect that you gross him out (which, by the way, couldn’t be more wrong) for always running away from the threat of skin-to-skin contact with you. Why was it raining when it’s still summer, anyway? It’s like that night was a curse made especially for him.

He curls up further into a ball, hoping you just forget about it all and don’t question him about it.

Yet the very opposite happens because what interrupts his spiraling thoughts is the sound of your voice— already threatening a wave of torment.

“Oh, god. You’re in a worse state than I thought.”

Heeseung regrets springing up from his bed because his head immediately gets slammed by the recoil of a headache. “Why...why are you here?” he barely scratches out. You’re by the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes laced with pity. He didn’t even hear the door opening. 

“Jake told me about your illness,” you say, walking over to the side of his bed and Heeseung flinches back the moment you set yourself down on the mattress. “He said you have a chronic case of bitchless syndrome.

He looks at you. Your face is dead serious. Heeseung feels a drop of sweat trickling down his neck, then you break into that devious smile of yours and laugh out a grin.

“Kidding. Jake would never say that. He told me you were sick and needed someone to nurse you up, so here I am.”

Holy shit. Heeseung lets out a breath, nearly teetering off his bed to maintain a comfortable enough distance from your overwhelming presence. “Why—” some throat phlegm cuts him off. He lets out a violent cough before reclaiming his voice. “Why you? I—I mean, why did Jake ask you?”

“Ouch?” you remark. “No one else is around. Jake’s out hiking, apparently. Sunghoon’s covering someone’s shift. Beomgyu’s obviously still at his parents. Jay says he’s out on a mission, and Soobin left the house with a giant backpack. I was too afraid to ask. Anyway, I know my very physical presence disgusts you, but deal with it for now, you goober. You look like hell.”

“That’s— that’s not—” You take this opportunity to pull his sweaty blanket off in one swift movement. “That’s not it! You don’t— don’t disgust me, I’m just— you know—”

“I know, I just wanted to fuck with you.”

You’re grinning. You haphazardly fold the sheet before throwing it down to the foot of the bed, sitting over it. Heeseung feels the blood drain from his face— “Anyway, sit up and let me feel you up,” —only for the blood to shoot right back up and nearly knocks him out unconscious. “Feel your temperature up, perv. I’m not taking advantage of a sick man. C’mere, let me see how sick you are.”

Heeseung, however, still has enough marbles to quickly evade your incoming hand. He swerves to the right. You blink at him, arm reaching out to thin air, before trying again, only for Heeseung to swat your hand away with gritted teeth and fearing for his life. “S—sorry,” he chokes out. He sees the glint in your eyes. Crap. He shouldn’t have done that.

“For fuck’s sake, just let me check your temperature— Heeseung! What the hell?!”

“Just—just leave me alone!”

Earlier, Heeseung thought he was about to die. He didn’t think he had enough strength to fight for his life as he squirms underneath you on the bed, driven solely by the desire to protect his fucking pride because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you touch him when he’s all gross and sweaty and gross from the fever. There’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen.

“What are you—”

He yanks out his blanket from underneath you, causing you to roll of his bed and he throws the sheet over his red, hot, and burning face because holy fuck. Holy shit. That was a close call.

When he peeks out from the blanket, Heeseung instantaneously feels a threat to his life.

You’re glaring at him. You look like you want to skin him alive and he gulps and nudges himself away, ass nearly falling off the bed when you get up from the floor and dust yourself off. “Okay,” you huff. “Fine. Have it your way. Die from a heatstroke, or whatever the fuck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, and if you do, I’m expecting you to get down on your knees and beg because every time you’ve swatted my hand away was an additional jab at my pride.”

Okay, damn. You leave his room, not without slamming his door close to emphasize your anger, and on top of feeling like absolute crap, Heeseung now also feels guilty as hell. 

“Fuck,” he rasps out. It’s not like he’s doing it out of malice, or hate, or because he thinks you’re a germ that he cannot touch, like you always accuse him with. Heeseung still remembers how his whole no touching quirk started: sixteen years-old, when Heeseung finally mustered the courage to hold his first girlfriend’s hand, only for her to laugh and joke and pull away while saying, “ew, gross. Your hand is all sweaty.”

Twenty-two year old Heeseung has been traumatized to this very day.

Especially now when he’s all disgusting and icky and very much ew and gross because of his fever. Stupid, he knows, but the last thing he’d want to see is a disgusted grimace from your face the moment the back of your hand presses against his damp and sticky, sickness-induced forehead. However, it seems like he’s been inflicting to you the very injury he’s been trying to protect himself by constantly avoiding the threat of contact of your skin against his.

Stupid. It’s really stupid. 

But he can’t avoid dehydration by simply ignoring the dryness of his mouth. With much struggle, Heeseung forces himself out of the bed, despairing the amount of stairs he has to climb down— and the suggestion of calling for you help does tease his brain for a split second, but decides against it with a shake of his head as he continues the awful trip to the living room, body weighing thirty times heavier, and skull feeling like it’s about to crack itself open.

The problem is, his skull does almost end up getting cracked open. Because as he’s finally nearing the bottom floor, he misses a step, causing him to hit the ground with a harsh thud.

“Ugh,” he grunts, pushing himself with his forearms, but he stops, nearly face planting into the floor once more because you’re there, you’re walking up to him, looking down at him, and holding a cold and refreshing glass of water above his head like some sort of fucked up display of powerplay against a sick and thirsty man.

“Need any help?” you hum. 

“I’m fine,” Heeseung tries once more to get up only to feel the nausea rise up to his head, and he stops, pauses, and decides that the floor is more comfortable after all. He looks up at you. “Can I...can I get a sip from your glass?”

There’s a glint in your eyes. You crouch down. “Sorry, what was that?”

Are you enjoying this? Do you like watching him in pain? (Likely answer is yes because you yourself have admitted that you enjoy their suffering and torment). “Water,” he rasps out. “Can I drink some of your water?”

“This?” You swirl the glass in your hand, ice clacking against the crystal, before taking a long, tortuous sip on the straw (why does it have a straw?) Heeseung swallows down his spit. “Say please,” you say with a smile. Heeseung chokes on said fucking spit and hacks out a cough because you’re fucking insane.

He feels his face grow hotter. And it’s definitely not just from the fever.

“P—please, give me some of your water.”

You don’t prolong his agony any further and hand him over the glass.

“Need any help getting up?” you ask as you watch him agonizingly sit up against the bottom steps and toss down the water into his throat in one shot as if it was at a company dinner. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and feels your disappointed stare pricking his conscience. “I can’t help you unless you ask me to, Heeseung.”

He frowns, deflating. “But I’m all gross and sweaty.”

The last thing he expects you to do is to roll your eyes at him and stand up with an arm stretched out. 

And the next thing he knows is that you’re lugging him over to the couch, an arm around his waist, his around your shoulder, and you set him down the cushions with a grunt. “Jeez, I’m not made for manhandling men,” you say, very dubiously. “Lie down.” And when he doesn’t lie down, wide-eyed and unresponsive, you poke his forehead and he tips back, falling into the couch.

What…what is going on...

“You know, I’m very tempted to ask you to take your shirt off just to laugh at your reaction, but you actually look like you’re about to die, so I decided against it. Aren’t I sweet?” 

You’re back with a basin and some towels (when did you disappear?) and Heeseung’s brain starts malfunctioning, growing dizzier and dizzier by the second when you touch his jaw, damp towel wiping off the sweat coating his face and neck and he feels his throat tightening. “Christ. I think your temp is over forty degrees, my guy,” you say, squeezing the towel over the basin. “Hello? Heeseung? What the hell, did you catch Sunghoon’s disease? Are you unable to talk to me now, too?”

“It’s—it’s not that,” he chokes out. He’s about to justify himself, but you press your palm against his forehead, cutting off all the oxygen pipes leading up to his brain, and he feels like passing the fuck out.

Shit. Shit. Holy shit. 

“Ah,” you say. “You’re not running away.”

He’s not. He’s not running away. But he feels a different sort of problem coming up.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You blink at him. This doesn’t help his case at all.

“Wow, this is an upgrade,” you say from the other side of the bathroom door while Heeseung pukes his guts out into the toilet. Heavy metal playing from his phone is trying to block the noises out. He’s heaving over the bowl and wants to kill himself from embarrassment. “Now my very presence makes you vomit. I’m sorry for everything so far.”

There’s a flush. The music stops. Heeseung cracks the door open and you pass him a glass of water without some bedroom-esque powerplay this time. “Seriously, why did you run off into the rain last night? Look where it got you.” It’s a shocker that you haven’t told him he’s gross yet. You’re standing there in front of the bathroom and in front of the mess of his post-vomit presence, and all you’re doing is looking at him in worry. 

“I wasn’t expecting you guys to be there,” he says, still sounding like death, and you take the now empty glass from him and head over to the kitchen, pointing at his makeshift deathbed on the couch. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to give Mariah Carey a run for her money, either.” After you place the glass into the sink, you’re back to the living room. He’s down on the sofa, eyelids heavy, unable to say or do anything when you push back his hair to place a damp towel on his forehead. “Like damn, I knew you guys have known each other for a while now, but I totally felt like an outsider when I was the only one surprised to hear you sing.”

You’re not making fun of him. You don’t make a comment about how sticky his skin feels or how gross his sweat-drenched shirt is.

“I like your voice. Too bad it sounds like shit right now, but you should let me hear you again once you feel better.” The doorbell rings. “Oh, right, I ordered some porridge. You can feed yourself, right? Hold on, let me get it.”

He hears your footsteps padding across the floor, unable to find the strength to open his eyes as the coolness of the cloth seeps into his forehead. Heeseung has always thought you were a bit too much— case in point, everything that just happened and all the other times you’ve teased, tormented, and actively tortured to the point of tears all the inhabitants of this god forsaken house. 

Yet it is also your excessive nature that has let Sunghoon speak more than five words around you, that has stopped Beomgyu from hermitting in his room twenty-four-seven, that has helped Soobin and Jay in two very important instances this summer, and has allowed Jake to offer you a spot in their lives after leaving that room on the third floor empty for a good two years.

“Fuck, I can’t believe they left me behind with a sick man when I can barely even take care of myself.”

You’re back. He opens his eyes and tries to lift himself up but his body is way too heavy. “Uh,” he says. “Can you…please…open the container for me?” He doesn’t miss your amused fucking grin when he mumbles out the please.

“Ah. Open up.”

Heeseung has always felt you were too much. Maybe it’s his fever talking, maybe it’s not, but maybe too much exactly what he needs right now.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

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