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thewinchestah · 3 months

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"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths.

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you.

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room.

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.” Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie”

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming.

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness.

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over.

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away.

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place.

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon.

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it.

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair.

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward.

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen.

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine.

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile.

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first.

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin.

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me”

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors.

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”.

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash.

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence.

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room”

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?”

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it.

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission.

“Take my breath away, Alastor”

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious.

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back.

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard.

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it.

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him.

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him, making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down.

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started”

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way”

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs.

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver.

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control.

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined he would, if he had more time to work on you.

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much.

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more.

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you.

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure.

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame”

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this pain of being broken feels good.

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face.

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth.

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this” Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture.

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep.

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

#hello guys im insane can you tell?#eu escrevi isso aqui na força do odio puro e genuino de quem ta sendo xingada no twitter tem dias #alastor #alstor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor fanfic #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fic #autora também está no cio #serio aquela msuica sento no bico da glock rebolo e tiro o short e vem vamo fudeee o gabriel tirou o meu cabaço e me botou de quatro nao #sai da minha cabeça #aquariano nato também não #QUEBRA A CAMA DESSAS PUTAAAAAAAAA #baixaria

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say-al0e · 1 month

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Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something.

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach.

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach. “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up.

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you.

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath.

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff, @valthevalkyrie-main, @crying-caro, @inglourious-imagines

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington x you #v's fics

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bunny584 · 1 month

Text

A Girl with No Name

A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.

Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?

CW: Frat AU, implied substance use, mature 18+, MDNI

‘Ain’t a pill that I didn’t take’

Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.

Silk.

Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.

‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’

Euphoria.

Who chose the lights?

They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.

“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.

“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.

“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.

“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”

“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.

In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.

One, he’s currently tripping balls.

Two, you just walked in.

Like you own the house.

Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.

The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.

But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.

Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.

Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.

They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.

“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”

Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.

Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.

Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.

Cavalier and gorgeous.

Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.

The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.

The cure for everything.

And right now? It is. The cure.

Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.

Speak, dumbass.

“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.

Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.

You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.

Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.

“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”

Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.

Are you doing this on purpose?

Are you trying to be a cocktease?

Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.

Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.

“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.

Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?

“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.

Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.

“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.

…what else can that throat handle?

“Okay, good time girl wh—“

“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.

“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.

“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.

“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”

The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.

Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.

“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.

“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.

“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.

Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.

Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?

“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.

Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.

“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.

Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?

“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.

Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.

“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.

“And Lightening.”

Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.

And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.

“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.

“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.

Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.

“No name.”

Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.

“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.

You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.

Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.

“Not here to talk, boys!”

The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.

But time is warped.

Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.

You are the 8th cardinal sin.

You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.

Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.

But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.

You are not a want.

You are a need.

“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.

Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.

“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.

And he is so captured. So entangled.

The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.

Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.

Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.

“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.

And you’re right.

It’s embarrassing, their display right now.

But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.

And hold it together.

And lead. Like they both are used to.

“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.

You know Satoru is so far gone.

And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.

“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.

As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.

Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.

Your personal drones.

Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.

“God, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, princess.”

Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.

Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.

“Please,” Suguru whispers.

You’re evil.

And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand. Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.

“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.

“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.

Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.

The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.

Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.

“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.

“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.

Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.

And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.

“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.

“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.

He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.

No, no.

The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.

Is he hallucinating?

It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.

Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.

Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.

Seeking permission.

Seeking approval.

He is otherworldly.

Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.

But..but that’s wrong. Right?

They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.

But the way he’s pouting.

God.

Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.

Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.

Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.

“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.

Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.

Filthy.

Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.

You two exploring each other’s lips.

Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.

It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.

“Such a good boy.”

Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.

It was directed at Satoru.

Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.

“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.

“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.

“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”

Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.

“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.

When did you get next to him?

Doesn’t matter.

Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.

The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.

“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“

“Cum for me, baby.”

You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.

Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.

You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.

His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.

“Woah, what the hell?”

Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.

“What do you—“

“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.

You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.

Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.

“These are for your eyes only.”

“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.

Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.

Suguru would too.

“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.

“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”

His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.

You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.

“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.

You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.

And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.

His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.

One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.

Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.

“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.

Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.

You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.

“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”

“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.

He’s so close. He’s—

“S-Suguru.”

And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.

Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.

“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.

A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.

You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.

Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.

Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.

The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.

No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.

——

Sunlight is downright offensive.

Suguru forces his heavy lids open.

7: 43 AM

Fucking, hell.

A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.

Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats

There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.

Right.

You.

Heaven’s fallen angel.

You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.

Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.

Snapping polaroids.

Taking their souls for play.

Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.

Suguru met The Devil last night.

And she was…exquisite.

“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.

Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.

How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?

“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.

Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.

“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.

Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.

Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.

The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.

His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:

Thunder

Alias: “Suguru”

A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.

The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.

He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.

Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:

Lightening

Alias: “Satoru”

“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.

“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.

And of course.

It’s blurry.

The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.

“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.

Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:

No Name

A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

You are something else.

Supernatural, almost.

“She’s a girl with no name.”

1K notes · View notes

explorevenus · 1 month

Text

baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you

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maxsimagination · 4 days

Note

would you write more for kim little please? maybe her dating someone younger on the team and the rest of the girls find out? <3

𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 - 𝙠.𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚

warnings: none, just an age gap

-------

“kimmyyyy, no i wanna sleep in. pleaseeee.”

i groaned as kim pulled the curtains to our shared apartment. i wanted to enjoy the last moments with her until we had to go to training and pretend we weren’t dating.

it wasn’t because we didn’t think they’d accept us, it was more because kim was 33 and i was only 22.

the team might not think that was bad, but if they knew then it was only a matter of time before the media knew, and it would blow up indefinitely once they knew. we just weren’t willing to risk it right now.

i ended up being dragged out of bed by kim, the scot managing to haul me to the bathroom. i was half asleep but went through my morning routine like clockwork.

we rocked up at the training fields within the next hour, but kim walked in first. we drove there in the same car but walked in separately so people didn’t suspect anything.

“yn!”

“leah!”

i greeted the blonde when i walked in, levelling her excitement with my own. she jumped onto me in a hug, before slipping back onto the floor.

we walked into the dining hall where the rest of the team and staff were, picking up our designated plates and electing to sit at katie’s table. which also happened to have kim at it.

i, obviously, chose to sit next to kim but thankfully no one picked up on that.

we were allocated an hour to eat breakfast before everyone had to actually start working for the day. all the players filed out to the changing rooms where we changed into our boots, and i slipped my hoodie off while i had the chance.

i caught kim’s gaze as i jogged out to meet leah, throwing a cheeky grin at her expression.

leah was up with katie and cait, talking about god knows what. i joined in, but then jonas cut everyone’s conversations short with his yell for attention.

“girls! let’s get started please. we’re doing a jogging warmup lap, then weights.

find a partner once you’ve finished the lap, use each other for spotting. we don’t need any injuries.”

there was collective murmurs of agreement, and we started jogging around the field. i naturally found myself jogging next to kim, as if a magnet pulled us together.

“gym partners?”

i questioned, she nodded.

we made our way to the weights section of the gym arsenal had.

“we are so doing legs first.”

i all but dragged kim over to the leg press to kickstart our session. kim did not want to do legs, she was into training arms, which was very visible from the bicep muscles that she sported.

one of the many things i drooled over.

i had shoved at least 250lbs onto the leg press machine and watched as kim’s eyes bulge at the amount of plates.

“you’re telling me you can safely lift that?”

“nope. but i’m gonna.”

i ended up doing two reps of fifteen, before upping the weight to 300lbs. kim may have had an aneurysm at the amount of weight i was pushing, and making it look like it was nothing. but she still stood behind me, watching, spotting, and dancing her fingertips over my shoulder blades.

it gave me tingles, and was slightly ticklish. what we didn’t know was that leah was looking from across the room, and she knew that something was up.

when the gym session was over and we started actual drills, leah was quick to pin me as her partner for anything. i thought it was weird but didn’t question it.

when we had a break leah took my hand and walked past kim, beckoning her to follow us. leah walked us away from the groups of girls, so we were out of earshot.

“there’s something going on between you two. spill.”

both of us were quick to sputter out some form of excuse.

“no, what do you mean.”

“don’t know what you’re talking about, lee.”

leah gave us both one of her stares.

“cut the crap. i see the way you look at each other, the little touches. not to mention you both come into practice witching minutes of each other, every morning.”

i exchanged a look with kim, there was no point in hiding this from leah. she was like the fbi, she knew everything.

“okay. we’re dating. we have been for a year.”

something settled in leah’s expression, now she knew what was going on.

“i knew it.

kimmy, going for the young ones are we?”

leah poked at kim’s side, grinning at the skipper. there was an eleven year gap between us, hence why we had kept it secret for a while.

“shut it, lee. do we need to tell the whole team?”

“it would make things easier. for you that is. but only if you want.”

i look over at kim. she looks over at me. i shrug, i never had a problem with telling everyone, kim was the logic one who knew the ins and outs of the media.

“fuck it why not. they’ll figure out eventually.”

“we don’t have to say anything, we can just walk out there and start acting like a couple. see how long it takes them.”

i throw out the idea with a grin. why not have a little fun with it.

we end up agreeing on my idea. training still had a couple of hours left and jonas gave us a few more drills to do, so me and kim forgot all about keeping the secret and just had fun training with each other for once.

surprisingly, none of the girls, not even the staff, said anything. not even kyra or alessia, of all people.

you’d think that the two most gossipy youngsters on the team would say something. but by the end of training, no one was any wiser. so leah told them all.

kyra let out a very loud, ‘oh my god!’ which caught the attention of alessia, who told lotte, so on and so on. soon the whole team knew and it was like a weight was lifted off our shoulders.

“kimmy, i didn’t know you were into the young ones.”

katie’s irish accent was unmistakable as she caught up with us to poke fun at the skipper. cait walked alongside me, she didn’t tease neither me nor kim, simply said she was happy for us.

you could tell she was true with her words, she was in a very similar situation, when her and katie first got together.

“a proper cougar then, our skipper.”

lotte and alessia laughed as they walked past.

it was funny, all the jokes they threw around, but most of all i was happy that they accepted us.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #kim little #kim little x reader #kim little imagine

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kooktrash · 8 months

Text

the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

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#kim taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung au #taehyung #taehyung imagine #Taehyung fic #Taehyung fanfic #taehyung oneshot #taehyung one shot #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #Taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts imagines

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yndrgrl · 10 months

Text

yandere! bakugou uses you to get to someone else, but ends up falling for you instead

long ass fic. fem! reader. regular! au. enemies to lovers. lowkey crack! fic. tsundere! bakugou.

warnings: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, manipulation, somnaphilia (idk how to spell it), degrading, bullying, spitting, public sex, hatefuck

a/n: requests are open :) (plz request something, idk what else to write about 😭)

---

"no." that's all you said. so flat, so robotic. that's all you wanted to say.

bakugou was a pushy man, however. "it wasn't a question."

"oh for real?" you gasped, putting both hands to your cheeks to show your faux shock. "no."

"listen, you're gonna help me win over uraraka-"

"no, i'm not, bakugou," you denied once more. you don't even know why he came to you in the first place. it was clear as day that uraraka had a major crush on izuku, & izuku liked uraraka just as much.

honestly, what surprised you the most is that bakugou even had a crush. i guess it makes sense that it would be on uraraka though.

"yes, you are because i have something over you," bakugou threatened lowly.

you scoffed, "oh, do you now?" there wasn't really much he could have over you that would make you help him-

he slammed a journal on the desk, a slam echoing throughout the library. it was your personal diary.

you lunged for your journal, but he snatched it & threw it into his bag. you screamed at him, "how'd you get that, you sicko?!" the only way he would've gotten that was by breaking into your dorm room.

"are you going to help me or not?"

yes, you could've bought a nicer, leather journal with handcrafted pieces of paper, glued recent pictures of your life & decorated the pages with washi tape, stickers, & colored markers, but you didn't want to start over yet. your journal is a year & a half old, every page nearly filled; it's a deep dive into your mind. every overwhelming event in your life, every good memory, every goal you strive to achieve is written down in that book. bakugou katsuki had that all in his possession.

that's why, two days after you found out what he has, you're sitting with your usual study group in your designated, outdoor study area-- plus bakugou. your bluetooth speaker played a playlist shared throughout the group. you sat on the edge with uraraka beside you & bakugou across from you.

"y/n," someone said, catching your attention; it was uraraka. "i didn't know you & bakugou were friends."

you wanted to laugh. you quickly told her, "we're not-"

"we're good friends," katsuki overlapped with his lie. his scowl upturned into the smallest smile when uraraka glanced up at him.

"oh wow, i had no idea! the two of you are so hard-headed, i wouldn't have expected the two of you to get along so great," she said back with a giggle. you loved uraraka, but she's too friendly sometimes.

bakugou, trying to play into the cool-bad-boy character, said, "yeah, well she makes it hard sometimes, but it helps when she has cute friends, i guess."

never in your life did you think you would hear big, tough bakugou flirt in your life.

they continued their conversation that you tuned out, rereading your notes & constructing plans on how to get your journal so you could expose him. everyone was invested in their own stuff. obviously, bakugou & uraraka were talking amongst themselves. momo was explaining to jirou & mina some math topic that they were sobbing about. tsu was on her laptop as she tried finishing a power point that was due the next day.

your chin was propped up by your hand, humming the song that started playing. "um, excuse me," a masculine voice called out. it caught the attention everyone at the table. you heard bakugou scoff, & you could only assume he rolled his eyes.

you looked up at the source of the voice. he was right in front of you, face red, cheeky smile. he was cute in the way that a puppy eager for a treat was. "you're y/n, right?"

"yeah, i am," you confirmed, matching his grin.

he introduced himself by saying his name & told you that he was in the hero-support program. he then said, "i just wanted to say that you're just really pretty."

compliments were one thing. compliments from complete strangers always messed you up though. "oh, th-thanks." you're so awkward.

"so like, maybe i could get your number, & we could go on a date or two?"

you glanced back at all your friends, who all had big smiles as a way of non-verbally saying, "get your manz, bitch!!"

bakugou on the other hand, had an expression of confusion & anger-- the anger was permanent though.

"i mean, i don't give out my phone number, but maybe we can snap or something?"

the guy nodded with enthusiasm, pulling out his phone to give you his username. "cool, well sorry for wasting your guys' time," the boy said to you friends before turning to you & saying, "i'll hit you up later?"

"can't wait," you replied back.

as soon as he was out of earshot, mina squealed, "oh my god! you're such a flirt!"

jirou teased, "you're so awkward, it's literally so funny."

"you're my pretty best friend," tsu croaked with a laugh.

"guys, nothing is gonna happen," you said with a blush. "i'm just gonna be his friend."

"how does it feel to be hit on for the first time, loser?" bakugou yawned, as if he's been hit on ten million times by fan girls & milfs or something.

mina retaliated, "what are you talking about? y/n gets hit on all the time!"

uraraka jumped in, "yeah, what's was that? guy number five?"

"y/n?" bakugou questioned, & all your friends nodded. "that thing? doubt it."

"what's there to doubt? you just saw it," you growled at him, he annoyed you so badly.

after that study session, he got uraraka's number like he hoped for, but he was more curious about you. he never realized until that day how often you do actually get men's attention. bakugou always assumed you were some bookworm, writer nerd who leeched off of his darling, uraraka for popularity & personality.

"i don't get it," bakugou muttered, staring at your figure across the cafeteria. he was surrounded by his friends, who all followed his gaze.

kirishima groaned, "dude, just ask uraraka out already." it was routine that bakugou would say something about how shitty nerd, deku, isn't good enough for her affections or how he would be a better match for her.

"no, it's not that," bakugou corrected, glare not breaking off of you. this caught kirishima, denki, sero, & mina -who sometimes sat with you as well- off guard.

"what are you talking about, bro," denki asked.

"i don't get it. she's not even that cute," bakugou scoffed, slouching back into the bench. his eyes finally tore away from you & awase from class 1-b.

"who?"

"y/n, i think," mina assumed, & when bakugou didn't deny it, they all knew she was right. "why does it even bother you?"

"it doesn't," he said, glancing back at you. awase left you, & in his place was the floating, fighting machine uraraka. he didn't feel the need to say anything about her though, but he felt like he had to. "she's weird, uraraka shouldn't even be friends with her."

"there it is," sero sighed, making all the others laugh.

"shut up," bakugou scowled at them. everyone was used to it, so they weren't that threatened.

"but seriously, bakubro, don't hate on y/n just cuz she's best friends with uraraka, & you're jealous," kirishima told him. he always did this to the blonde. he wasn't scared to tell him off.

bakugou, infuriated, yelled, "i'm not jealous of her, okay? it's just stupid how she has everyone wrapped around her finger, so don't be some dumb, y/n defenders. hop off her fuckin' dick."

"i'm just saying, man. she's super cool, has a useful quirk, & is an awesome fighter," kirishima said, holding his hands as a way to show he was backing down.

"if i were you, bakugou, i would be trying to be her friend," mina said.

mina's words played on repeat in bakugou's head for a week. it was driving him crazy. even though that bridge of being friends was already burned & he kept telling himself he doesn't care, he can't help but want to be closer to you.

he said it was all for uraraka in the end. after all, when they were texting the other day, she said that she would want a future partner to get along with her friends or else it'll be a deal breaker.

bakugou deduced that if he was on favorable terms with you that uraraka would fall for him-- & maybe you too. he felt himself physically jolt when he thought that. why in fucks name would he want you to fall for him? he thought for a second. it's not like he wants to be with you or anything, but he doesn't want you with anyone else.

he somehow found himself in front of your dorm door past curfew. bakugou, at this time, was usually asleep, dreaming about a life where him & uraraka lived happily ever after. however, tonight was different. he didn't feel like thinking about the short-haired brunette.

he doesn't even know why he's outside your door.

in his head, he rationalized that he just loves uraraka so much that he'd give up sleep to become your friend. it was such an urgent situation that he didn't even bother putting on shirt.

he fished in his sweatpants' pocket for a lock pick, the same one he used to break into your dorm the first time to steal your journal. bakugou jammed it into the lock, opening the door with ease. he shut the door carefully before stalking further into your room.

there you were on your bed. swaddled in your fluffy duvet, cuddling a stuffed animal. you must've felt his presence because your sleeping self started shifting & ended up kicking off your blanket. you ended up on your stomach, one leg crunched towards your side while the bottom leg laid straight. you faced away from bakugou.

his breath hitched, something inside him twitched. bakugou couldn't help but stare. he had to admit that you had the body of his dream girl. wait no, his dream girl was uraraka-

he cut his own thoughts off when he saw how your ass looked in that position. the blue hue from the moonlight flowed into the room because, for some reason, you felt no need to close your curtains. he could make the shape of you so clearly. he reached for you.

he told himself that he wouldn't be cheating on his soon-to-be lover. it's just a touch, a friendly touch that friends share with each other.

his fingertips ghosted over your exposed thighs. you were wearing nothing but thong & an oversized band tee. the gentle touches turned into full-palm caresses. her skin is so smooth, bakugou thought. he loomed closer to you, inhaling deeply. she smells so nice.

he climbed over you with the agility of a shadow. the bed didn't even creak. he kneeled over legs, & his hands found your plush ass. he kneaded your bare butt, shifting you so you were fully on your stomach. you remained unmoving; you usually take melatonin gummies right before bed anyways.

bakugou kept groping your ass while his cock hardened into its full length. his hands wandered, thumbs grazing over your entrance. he grasped you, & he spread your ass cheeks apart. you must be dreaming about something dirty because your thong was soaked.

bakugou readjusted himself so he was on level with your ass. "this is just what friends do," he hazily whispered to himself. "friends help friends get better."

he blew on the wet patch, watching your pussy twitch through your panties. bakugou waited for a second, trying to grasp at any sort of self-control but, when you subconsciously propped your ass higher for him, he couldn't help it. he mentally apologized to uraraka before he dove into your ass.

his tongue licked your clothed slit, & he felt how thin your thong truly was. he only got an inkling of what you tasted like, & he craved more. bakugou lapped you juices through your panties, dampening the light grey cloth into a darker shade. his jaw hinged open to allow his tongue to delve further down.

he found your clit through your thong. he pressed his tongue against you, & sleeping, unsuspecting you let out a moan. "oh fuck," bakugou whispered in response, diving back into your pussy.

he pulled your thong up. it rode higher in your ass, then the part the was covering your pussy disappeared between your lips.

he started eating you out again, groaning in pleasure when he finally got to touch your bare skin. he slurped your juices over & over.

bakugou didn't realize that he pulled his sweatpants & boxers down to his knees. he pulled away from your pussy, a string of your juices & his saliva connecting him to you.

on his knees, he positioned his big cock between your ass. a moment of clarity hit him, it wasn't right, he knew that deep down. you really didn't do anything to him.

your phone next to your pillow buzzed. he grabbed it, his hung cock still pressed against you. it was a message from uraraka that read, "wait what did you wanna tell me about bakugou earlier? you looked so concerned haha."

you were trying to tell him? what a fucking bitch, bakugou thought with pure hatred. you were trying to sabotage him with your words, your pretty little mouth, with your dumb, stupid body.

his rationality was once again thrown out of the door. uraraka would want me to show y/n her place, he thought. he climbed off of you. he had to show you what your mouth was meant for. your mouth wasn't meant for snitching, it was meant for sucking cock-- his cock.

bakugou turned your head & pulled it at the edge of the bed. thankfully, it's like your body already knew what was gonna happen, your mouth was already agape. he pushed his tip past your lips. your tongue lazily stroked against his length. he moved his dick in & out of your throat, & yet somehow you still remained motionless.

his control turned into animalistic thrusts, gagging you over & over, & you still stayed asleep. "fuckin' stupid bitch," he groaned, throwing his head back. your throat expanded with each thrust to accommodate his thickness & length.

spit & his precum spilled out of your mouth & onto your silk pillowcase. because you were sideways, his heavy balls slapped against your face, nose shoved into his pubes. you gargled & gagged in your sleep, but you still handled him so well.

his passionate angry finally swelled up & shot down your throat. even though he was cumming, he kept half-assed thrusting in your throat, coating every inch with white. all for uraraka, remember? because bakugou completely forgot what drove him to do what he just did.

the next day, as you entered the classroom, he heard you tell to uraraka about how the melatonin gummies really worked. "yeah, i was completely knocked out! i drooled so much, my pillow was drenched. it was disgusting."

"really? i know that they're good, but i never drooled that much. maybe you really needed that sleep."

as they passed bakugou's seat, uraraka waved at him with pink cheeks. "hey, bakugou."

"uraraka," he said back to her. he watched your smile drop into a frown, your eyes rolling. he was winning over uraraka, he knew that, but he didn't feel satisfied. he yearned the banter between the two of you more than uraraka's affections. "what was that, idiot?"

uraraka was shocked at first, thinking he was talking to her until she heard you shoot back, "shouldn't you be watching ochaco instead of me?" if he didn't know any better, it sounded like you were jealous.

"y/n, let's calm down," uraraka sheepishly suggested, but it only angered you more. why was she on that weirdo's side? why wasn't she on your side? even after you told her what he did to you, she didn't even care; in fact, she seemed flattered.

"yeah, calm down," bakugou chimed in with that disgusting, cocky smile, "go in the back & drool all over your desk."

"eavesdropping now? you really are obsessed," you huffed, marching towards your desk that was, in fact, in the back of the classroom. you thought uraraka was right behind you, but by the time you turned around to sit in your chair, you noticed her take a seat next to bakugou.

the bell rang, & in rolled your sleepy teacher, mr. aizawa. he called roll, held an hour long lecture while you took notes, then assigned a 4-page essay with three sites sources. after he was done, he questioned, "now that we're done with that, what is happening today?"

iida's hand shot up along with his entire body.

"go ahead, iida."

"the 1a students from ketsubutsu academy are training with us today." oh right, you completely forgot about that. you were not in the mood to socialize with those uptight, cocky rich kids today. even though you took the melatonin gummies the night before to ensure a goods night sleep, you got everything but that. you felt like you were melting all night, & now you just felt restless.

"good, iida is correct," mr. aizawa confirmed. "they're already waiting in training facility a, so get dressed & be there in 10 minutes."

"yes sir!" & they all scurried out of the classroom.

your entire class entered the facility in their hero costumes. like mr. aizawa said, the visiting students were already there, stretching & warming up. mr. aizawa, once he noticed his entire class, announced that on the white board was everyone's names & assigned training group for the day.

everyone, including the other class, crowded around the board to find their names. "y/n!" your best friend, who you were extremely pissed off at, cheered. "we're all in the same group!" we... all?

you look at uraraka to see who she was referring to. "it's just my luck," you groaned, of course it was bakugou. "i just had to be put in a group with you!" you wanted to shout at everyone. you wanted to shout at uraraka for being swooned by a creep, you wanted to yell at mr. aizawa for putting you in a group with bakugou, & you wanted to scream, jump, yell, & hit bakugou over the head with a bat just for being the aggravating, prideful bastard he is.

"we just had to have a weak fuckin' nerd in your group?" he said to uraraka, but glanced to his side to meet your eye. your fuming expression really got him going. "there's no one more annoying than you-"

"are you y/n?" someone questioned. that just be the last person in your group.

you looked up at him, & with a half-hearted smile, you said, "i am."

"nice, i'm in your group," he told you, "i'm yo shindo. & i must admit, i was not excited for this whole group training thing until i saw a pretty girl like you was in my group."

oh, so he was a flirt? honestly, you didn't mind at all; you needed something to distract you & what's a better distraction than a buff playboy?

"honestly me too, but i think it'll be fun with you," you said back, but you overthought what you said. was it cringy?

bakugou was watching the whole exchange, brows furrowed, vein popping through his skin on his forehead. uraraka noticed, & because with the new-found knowledge that bakugou really liked her, she stroked his arm & asked, "are you okay?"

he looked at her with the same look of anger, now mixed with discomfort, & shrugged her off. "yeah, i'm fine."

he turned his attention back to you & shindo. bakugou's hands sparked ever so suddenly when he took in the scene in front of him. you were eating up all of shindo's praises & brags. your hands tried to squeeze around his biceps but you just couldn't connect your hands. "wow, your muscles are so big~ you must be strong."

"of course i am, i gotta be so i can impress pretty girls like you after all," he winked at you. for a moment, you glanced at bakugou, feeling his harsh glare, & he looked like he was about to explode. you didn't know why though, doesn't he have what he wanted already? he has uraraka right there, & yet he's still mad at you. he still owes you your journal too, so the two of you were not on good terms.

"sorry, i didn't mean to get carried away," you told shindo, pulling your hands away.

as the two of you walked towards uraraka & bakugou, shindo said, "i don't mind, you can touch me wherever, whenever."

you couldn't help but laugh out loud. "god, you're such a flirt!"

"you seem to love it though-"

"y/n, would you stop being a hoe for one second & train like you're supposed to?" bakugou said to you, hands stuffed inside his pockets, looking so nonchalant. you blinked a moment, & you waited for uraraka to say something or to rush by your side. she didn't do any of that

all she said was, with a giggle & eyes staring at bakugou, "that was mean." yeah, it was. it really was. the tips of your ears burned in humiliation, your palms became sweaty, & your breathing was uneven. after uraraka was done ogling bakugou, she looked at you, & her eyes widened. never in her entire childhood friendship did she see that expression on your face.

"dude, i don't know who think you are, but don't talk to her like that," shindo said, stepping forward & slightly in front of you. your tense shoulders relaxed just a bit-- someone is in your corner.

the amused bakugou turned pissed off when your new, little boy-toy went to your rescue, even though he knew you didn't need rescuing. "h-hey, let's save it for training, yeah-"

"i'll talk to y/n however i want, damn weak fuck," bakugou replied, copying his movements & stepping forward. "you're just like her: fucks anything that moves, huh?"

"bakugou-"

"that's it!" you shouted as you shoved bakugou away from shindo. the three of them -bakugou, uraraka, & shindo- were shocked to say the least. he pushed you too far all for entertainment & some obsession. "you're such a goddamn coward, you know that? all you are is a bully who's play-pretending to be a hero! you're such a control freak that, even after you stole my best friend, you still need to have something over me, so you won't give me back my stupid journal. & worst of all, you just stare & glare & act like i'm scum when you're the actual piece of shit! & you're not even ashamed! you want everyone to know! i hate you so much!"

after your tangent/rant, you walked away, quirk firing left & right. you didn't need to hear whatever bakugou was going to say next, it was probably be something so degrading that winds up in her next journal entry.

the three of the gawked at you, watching you walk straight to the state-of-the-art punching bags. uraraka was the first to speak. "i'll talk to her. i've never seen her that... mad. it was like she was a whole new person-"

"you guys are terrible classmates. there was no reason to say any of that. i'll go talk with her," shindo cut uraraka off. before either of them could do anything, bakugou was already strutting towards you, gauntlets sparking.

"who does she think she is?" they heard him utter. they were out of earshot, however, when he said, "making me fuckin' hard then walking away. damn tease."

he caught up to you in no time. you were almost to the punching bags when he grabbed your wrist, his hand was warm & a stinging sensation engulfed your wrist.

uraraka & shindo watched as the two of you screamed at each other, you shoving him, him glaring at you, you throwing a piece of your costume at him. honestly, it would've been comedic if it wasn't for bakugou pressing your buttons.

"what are they? toxic exes or something?" shindo questioned as they began to walk towards the fighting two.

"oh, no, not at all! i would've known," uraraka told him, "they're just... um... friends i think. maybe enemies."

"i can tell that much."

when the actual training began, you & bakugou tried to separate from each other. you were paired with shindo & him with uraraka. but, because of the conditioning & the way today's training was set up, it was inevitable that you two would interact again.

like at lunch, the two of you sat across each other at a table, eating your lunches. you didn't bother speaking, you didn't even want to see bakugou ever again, after all.

or at the water fountain, when he said, "hurry up." & so you took longer, even though you weren't thirsty anymore.

or when you had to rotate partners & bakugou was your only option. the two of you, against the rules, threw quirk-backed attacks each other.

& that's how you two ended up being excused early. while everyone else was getting better, you were locked out & forced to change back into your school uniform, & the only person with you was bakugou.

when you left the changing room, he was leaning against the wall-- almost like he was waiting for you. "you done being mad at me?"

"no, i'm not, & i'll never stop being mad at you," you said, walking right past him. he followed close behind you.

"listen, i didn't mean to embarrass you. i didn't know you'd get so pissy."

"what did you think was gonna happen?!"

"i don't know, okay?" the two of you were yelling at this point.

"you have ochaco, can you please just give me my journal & leave me alone? you two can be happy far, far away from me," you said, cursing yourself for choking up. you mentally prepared for the teasing & "witty" comebacks bakugou had in store.

instead, he asks, "are you jealous?"

"what?"

"are you jealous?"

you scoffed, opening the door to the dorm building. "don't flatter yourself, big guy."

"i'm being serious," he said to you as he leaned on the counter. you were so hungry that you didn't really care bakugou was watching you cook. "because i was."

"what are you getting at, bakugou?" you asked, putting a pot of water on the stove, bringing it to a boil.

"i was so jealous today," he said.

"of what?"

"of damn shindo kid," he responded back. your angered expression contorted into a puzzled one as you looked up at him. when you didn't reply, he continued, "if i knew stupid one liners got your attention, i would've been doing that sooner."

you couldn't believe what you were hearing. the guy who's been making the past few months hell was confessing something you never expected. "what about ochaco, hm? i thought you needed her to breath or something."

"yeah, i guess i liked her at first, & that's why i needed your help," he admitted. he then fished a journal, your journal, out of his bag & stood up. he walked towards you, hand outstretched with your beloved diary in his grasp. you reached out for it when he lifted it above your head with a taunting smirk. "but then i realized that i wanted you this entire time."

--nsfw starts here--

"you're just saying stupid things to get a rise out of me, bakugou," you rolled your eyes at him. you placed a hand on his chest as you jumped for your journal, fingers touching it ever so lightly. it was just out of reach.

you thought you had it, he brought the notebook down. however, you didn't have it. he threw it on the counter behind you, & the hand the was holding it snakes around your waist. his other hand grabbed your face, stroking your cheek as he kissed you.

you don't know why, but you found your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. without breaking your lips apart, he pushed you against the counter, pinning you between his two arms now. his tongue, the tongue that craved you since that unknown night, licked your lips before fighting yours for dominance. his thigh was between your legs. he pressed your core against him, & you moaned.

bakugou shut off the burner during your kiss. he was expecting the two of you to escape into his room, but when you threw off his tie & unbuttoned his shirt eagerly, he knew he needed you right then & there.

the two of you broke your kiss, & he placed his head in the crook of your neck. "you get off on making me jealous, don't you? that's why you were flirting with stupid shindo?"

"wh-whatever, you jerk. you act like you weren't basically grinding on ochaco in front of me all the time?"

bakugou laughed into the nape of your neck. "grinding? all we did was talk."

"same fuckin' thing," you growled in frustration.

"i didn't know you were so jealous of her."

"oh, fuck off, asshole," you said. you were quickly shut up by him biting your sensitive spots all over your neck, sucking & licking to create hickeys.

he took off your tie & ripped open your shirt. he unhooked your bra, throwing it god knows where. "take this fuckin' thing off," he uttered, helping you out of your torn clothes.

"h-hey!"

"shut up, & take it. i'll buy you a new one," he said before fondling your breasts. you bit your lip as your grinded against his meaty thigh. your wetness, even though you had panties on, began staining his slacks.

"bakugou~" you whispered, voice shaking.

"it's katsuki tonight, dummy," he told you, turning you around & bending you over the counter. you brushed your journal out of the way as you pressed you tits onto the cold, granite countertop.

with three fingers, he pinched your pussy through your panties so his middle one snuck in between your lips. "stop being a tease & fuck me already." if only you knew.

"be patient, woman," scowled katsuki, smacking your ass. he set of small sparks when he hit your cheek. "you can't take this cock yet. i'm doing you a goddamn favor."

you doubted him, you really did. he was so cocky & arrogant, how could you not? "i can take your tiny dick any day, don't underestimate me."

katsuki let out a hearty, sarcastic laugh. "you really think so, dumb bitch?" he unclicked his belt, dropping his pants & boxers around his ankles. he started to grind against your ass, & you swore up & down it felt like deja vu.

you gasped as you felt his length between your ass. you've had dreams about cocks that big, sure, but you didn't know they actually existed. "wh-what the fuck?"

"what? still think you take me? still think i'm tiny, sweetheart?" katsuki taunted as he took off your panties. he pressed your thighs around his cock, the base of it stimulating your swollen clit. he thrusted gently; it was so against his brash, aggressive character.

you were not one to back down, so at least you stayed true to your character. "yeah, i can take your skinny ass dick-" you were cut off by katsuki spreading your ass & shoving his girthy length into your throbbing heat. you screamed, tongue hanging out of your mouth as you tried to adjust to him.

he wouldn't let you though. katsuki, once inside your tight pussy, started pounding you. he shoved his cock head into your g-spot over & over, making you quiver & pulsate around him. "sl-sl-slow d-down!" you begged between thrusts. in response, he pulled your head back with your hair. you arched uncomfortably; your pelvis was still against the edge of the counter, but your head was pulled so far back that you could see katsuki's face.

"you think you're all that? you think you can just flirt with all these other guys in front of me? you fuckin' slut," he spat into your mouth, not that it mattered since it mixed with your drool & fell out of your mouth & onto your cold body. "i own you now. i own this mouth, i own this pussy, i own this ass, i own you."

"f-f-"

"c'mon, pathetic whore. say it."

"fuck y-you, katsuki." oh, you were a brat through & through clearly.

katsuki has had enough of your retaliation. you were supposed to be a brainless bimbo begging for more, yet here you were, surprising him again. any bit of consciousness you had, he was going to fuck out if you.

he, without pulling out, let go of your hair & made you stand up. he grabbed both your legs & hoisted you into this air. his hands found their way behind your head, & you couldn't move. you were nothing more than a cum dumpster to him now. "you know, if anyone walks through that door, they're gonna see you folded in half, tears streaming down your face with my cock balls deep in your dripping pussy, & they'd realize how much of a slut you are, & they'd know that you're all mine."

you didn't mean to, but your pussy clenched around his cock tighter as more of your juices squirted onto the linoleum floor. "oh, you like that, princess?"

you moaned in response, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he praised you. "aw, how pathetic. you must love when i call you cute nicknames & tell you how good you're doing." with whatever head movement you had, you nodded.

"that's a shame because you've been nothing but dirty, i can't treat you like a good girl until you deserve it."

"p-please! i'll do anything!" you cried out, then you started twitch uncontrollably around him. a white, hot wave of pleasure washed over you as you creamed all over his cock. he wasn't done yet, he still abused your cervix, making you beg for him to stop, or at least slow down.

his thrusts turned rapid as he started to groan about how you were all his, how he wasn't going to let any other man look at you, how he would be the only one you ever think about. you knew that was all true. "y/n, you fuckin' bitch, i hate you & your pretty, little face. take it all," he yelled as he unloaded his load into your tight pussy.

you screamed in overwhelming pleasure, squirting all over him once again. the two of you caught your breaths. he set you down once his cock finally stopped twitched, & he spun you around to embrace you. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i promise i'll be the best boyfriend in the world, just give me a chance. i know we're enemies or whatever, but i don't wanna be that anymore, & i don't want to be whatever this is; just fucking like we hate each other then go our separate ways." you've never seen this side of katsuki before.

"i-i'd like that, i'd like to be your girlfriend."

you hated him. you hated how he made you feel. you hated how he infected your mind, how he ruined you for any other man. you hated how you knew you needed him.

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