#so determined and cold and strong and would fuck that ATTITUDE out of him

[blacknidstang]

Late seasons dean would soooo spank the hell out of early seasons sam. They'd be soo ruthless to each other but dean would have the upper hand and will put bitchy lil early seasons sammy in his place. He would have no patience for sam's brattiness and sam would be so rude to him and so angry at his overbearing dominance. It would be one delicious horrible interaction

#i cant stop thinking about this #like dean would legit just be DONE and spank him and sam would be likd “so youre just like dad (derogatory)” #spn #wincest #they'd fuck so good and nasty tho #early season sammy would be so so well dicked by older dean he'd become addicted to him #dean stronger and more serious and more vicious and none of the sweet boyish comfort he had but instead #so determined and cold and strong and would fuck that ATTITUDE out of him

[itsshizyne]

Nice Hoodie.

—————

A Tomura Shigaraki x Reader oneshot.

You and Tomura are in a secret relationship. You catch him at his usual spot after an Econ lecture and decide to keep him company.

Tomura shigaraki x fem!reader collage/ University AU Oneshot

No warnings, just fluff. However, there may be small indications of sexual activity.

You saw Tomura sitting down on one of the empty, isolated benches with a small, half eaten croissant in his left hand, and his grey portable computer situated on his lap. It was one of the things he did whenever he was free from any of his lectures or just when he wanted to be alone for the day.

His long, white strands of hair with a tint of blue covering majority of his face resting against the black plastic frame of his glasses. His v neck sweater over his white shirt which covered his small scars he obtained from itching his neck too much whenever he was stressed about an upcoming tests he waited until only the night before to cram for, which he usually ended up getting roughly ninety percent or more on each and every time.

It was one of the things you loved about your boyfriend Tomura. How he just sat there, peacefully. like he didn’t have a single worry in the world.

You on the other hand, couldn’t get a rest. You were so determined to get a first class in economics that you overwhelmed yourself with stress.

Constantly revising, flicking through old notes from previous classes weeks you had an upcoming test with Tomura laughing from the other side of his dormitory, trying to get you to calm down for a moment and just relax beside him.

You both got in on expensive scholarships. However your attitudes were the complete opposites…

You and Tomura have been together for almost a year now. It was his idea to keep the relationship on the low to save the drama from both of your separate friend groups, however there were a few people that knew. Such as his close friend Spinner, and your close friend Himiko, who both accidentally caught you guys in the middle of make out session on multiple occasions.

The rest of them had a small idea that both of you were at least sleeping with each other. But had no sort of concrete evidence to actually prove their claims.

You always snuck out of group society meetings or cheer practice to meet up with Shigaraki, and he’d always ditch his friend group or miss lectures that he didn’t think were worth his time for both of you to have a little quickie in your dorm room, or simply just to hold each other quietly while watching one of his favourite series, Breaking Bad on his mini television while Spinner was out.

Overall your secret relationship was great. Although you’d have to hold your tongue whenever one of the girls on your cheer team would talk about how cute and introverted he was, or Tomura would have to keep a straight face whenever one of his friends would talk about how they’d do anything to have you in their beds.

It was funny for him sometimes, watching guys constantly try to hit on you while you gave them the cold shoulder or told them to fuck off, knowing he had the honours of putting his head between your thighs and you getting on your knees for him every Friday after a long week of boring, stressful Chemistry and Computer Programming lectures.

You loved him, and he loved you. Despite his struggles to express that in ways other than little compliments under his breath and intimacy. But you always managed to show your strong feelings of affection, even in places where he sometimes didn’t want you to.

“Hey stranger.” You smiled before you took a seat beside Shigaraki, playing with the strings of his black hoodie you took from him last week before he walked you back to your dorm at twelve o’clock at night in the cold. After a few minutes, his eyes were off the screen of his computer and onto you.

A small side smirk appeared on his face as he saw you wearing his hoodie over your white shirt, along with the black skirt you brought when he took you out during a shopping spree for a date. It was one of the things he occasionally did for you to express his love and care for you.

He knew you had done this on purpose, you loved to do small things like these in order to get his attention, knowing he didn’t have the balls to touch you in a public place. “What’s up beautiful?”

“Nothing much, I just came from one of my economics lectures and saw you up here alone. I thought you’d might like some company.” You replied before you slumped down into the old wooden bench.

“Mhm, I could tell by that large ass folder you have in your arms right now.” He softly chuckled, pointing at the purple folder filled with notes you took from the past year of lectures. He closed his computer and set it aside before snatching the folder out of your fingers and placing it in his.

He began to flick through your notes and shook his head. “You take this way too seriously y/n. I keep telling you to relax, you’re gonna end up working yourself out.”

You rolled your eyes and snatched back your folder from his arms. He laughed as you began to reorder the notes from A-Z. “Says the guy that doesn’t do revision until the night before and still scrapes ninety percent.”

“What can I say? I’m just a lazy natural genius.” He boasted and pointed at himself with a large grin. You flipped him off and flicked him hard against his cheek, earning a small hiss before he playfully barged you.

“Fuck you Tomura. Econ is harder than you think, I bet you didn’t even understand the notes you just saw.” You pouted your bottom lip and pulled the strings of your hoodie so your face was covered.

“You’re right. I didn’t get a single bit of that shit in your folder, but I’m pretty sure programming is harder.” He picked up his computer and showed you the new programme he was currently working on. After a few seconds, your eyes began to hurt at the amount of numbers and gibberish on his screen.

You deeply sighed and moved your head away from the computer screen. “Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t decide to go into computer programming. After that small side class I did, it put me off for life.”

He smiled and put his computer back into his brown bag. “Well at least you got to meet me, that was one pro of the introductory class right?”

“Oh please, it made my experience even worse. You wouldn’t stop taking the piss out of me for getting the programming wrong.” During your first few months at your university, you decided to take a look at more potential side hobbies you could take during your time here.

One of those things was the computer programming introductory course, Tomura was one of the second year voluntary assistants for the teacher, he later told you that he did it for his favourite professor and a bit of easy money.

The first thing that attracted you to him was his intelligence, you couldn’t understand a single thing the teacher was talking about but Tomura explained everything to you in less than a few minutes along with some guidance on the programming.

After that you started to see him around campus quite often. He’d always say hi to you whenever you were in the library looking over books, and sometimes even offered or keep you company whenever you were alone studying during your free periods.

After a few months, It went from a few small subtle greetings, to little conversations about each other’s lives and your studies, to him asking you out on a date to the movie as friends, to you both making out with each other in the back of his car or whenever there was an opportunity.

“Oh shut up, you know you loved it.” He put a hand over the side of the bench and you leaned into his chest, resting your eyes as Tomura watched you in great confusion.

“You sure you wanna do that here? What if someone sees us?”

You sighed and glanced up at his low, soft crimson eyes. “I really don’t give a fuck, it’s been a while since we’ve spent time with each other in public like this.”

He shrugged at your response and finally gave in, resting his head against yours as he peacefully stared up into the clouds. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend time with you for the last couple of weeks y/n. I’ve just been really busy with those stupid classes.”

You ran your little fingers through his hair before you gently kissed his neck. “It’s okay Tomura, I haven’t exactly been free to hang out either. I’m even planning on leaving the cheer team.”

“Why? I love how sexy you look in that little skirt while you jump and shake those pom-poms.” He shamelessly teased, squeezing one of your thighs with a wide grin on his face.

You scoffed before running your hand across his chest. “Don’t worry too much, it’ll only be for a little while, just until I get all of these tests out of the way. I’ll probably be back on the team before the next game.” He hummed and began to shut his eyes.

He lived for small moments like these, nothing but the two of you embracing one another in each other’s arms. Listening to nothing but the sweet sounds of the birds chirping and small gust’s of wind.

After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, Shigaraki checked his watch before sighing in annoyance. His next lecture was in less than five minutes, he removed his hand from your thigh and began to pack up his things. “I’ve gotta go, more lectures and shit. Are we still on for Friday though?”

“It’s okay, I should start making my way to my dorm before getting set up for cheerleading practice. And I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You stood up from the bench and flattened out your skirt before picking up your rucksack and hooking it over your shoulder.

“Good, cause I’ve missed you.” Your boyfriend told you, wrapping the croissant up in a small paper bag and slipping it in one of his pockets.

“Did you miss me? Or did you miss rearranging my guts?” You grinned as you picked up your large, heavy folder.

Tomura hugged you one last time and gave you a quick kiss. “Both.” He whispered in your ear, followed by another kiss to your cheek. He released you from his grip, slinging his bag over his shoulder and smiling as you made your way down the hill.

As you began to walk away from the hill and back towards the east of campus, you heard Shigaraki call out to you from the top.

“By the way. Nice hoodie!”

“Thanks, you’re not getting it back by the way!” You blew him a kiss before he could say anything to protest against your decision and skipped in the direction of your dormitory.

He rolled his eyes walked in the opposite direction towards the computer programming lecture hall.

University and exam life was incredibly stressful, but at least you had each other to take your minds off of all of it.

Even if it was in secret.

#shigaraki headcanons #oneshots #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #college au #writing #authors #reader insert #toga himiko #league of villains #bnha dabi #bnha spinner #scenarios #my hero academia shigaraki #my hero acadamy #my hero imagines #university au #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha x you #mha headcanons #fanfic

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Bug Like An Angel

A short Leon S Kennedy X Chris Redfield one-shot. Leon is falling into a deep depression after his run in Spain, and finds himself lonely at a bar trying to numb the pain. Something better comes along.

Leon stared down at the empty glass, his vision swimming. His head ached, his limbs were heavy and yet...

"Another round!" He called to the barkeep. He was sweating underneath his jacket, skin sticky from something more than just the heat.

Whiskey on the rocks. It burnt going down, and made him even hotter once it was inside. Leon gripped the glass as if it were a lifeboat. As if it were all he had.

Images of Krauser, Luis, Mike, Martin--so many people he lost--began to flash through his head. Even the people that were alive felt unreachable. Ada, with her soft curves and easy smile and ice-cold deception, Sherry's watery blue eyes and determination through the worst of circumstances, Claire's attitude and leather and sense of justice, the way Ashley always seemed to make him smile. They felt so far away. Untouchable. He was alone.

The drink was all he had indeed.

There's a bug like an angel,

Stuck to the bottom

Of my glass, with a little bit left.

As I got older

I learned I'm a drinker,

Sometimes a drink feels like family....

"Hey there, buddy." A strong voice said, slipping in next to Leon. The DSO agent didn't even look up. The voice stalled for a moment, and Leon couldn't help but feel the large presence. Everything in the room seemed to gravitate toward the man next to him.

Or maybe he was just really, really fucking drunk.

A gentle hand on his arm. It felt like a hundred pound weight. Like it was going to crush him. Leon slowly looked up and met eyes with the guy bothering him. The gears in his head slowly turned, and then there was the flash of recognition that made him dizzy. Chris Redfield. He met him after the whole shindig in Spain, when he gave the Kennedy Report. Claire's brother. Him and a few guys from the BSAA had taken him out for drinks. It was a good night...nothing like this, drowning in whiskey and gin all by himself.

"Haven't seen you in awhile." Chris said, voice upbeat but his eyes gleaming with concern. "Just happened to stop in here with some of my men and noticed you. Think you could use some company?"

Leon still felt sore from Spain. It had been months. The pain wasn't going away. It made him stiff and bitter. Only drinking seemed to make it abate, if only for a few hours. "No." He slurred, Chris' edges blurring. "I'm fine."

Chris grimaced. "You don't look fine, Kennedy." He suddenly disappeared, and Leon stared blankly down at his empty glass. It should have been full again by now, no? He was loud enough... Did someone cut him off? Irritation spiked.

A few moments later, Chris returned with a plastic cup. He held it out to Leon. The DSO agent stared down at the cup and pointed with one finger, the word loose. "Liquor?"

"No, it's water. You need to sober up, Leon." He pushed the cup closer, a little bit sloshing over the rim. "I got lemon in it and everything, man."

"I'll pass." Leon shuddered when Chris used his first name. It was involuntary, echoing the way Krauser said his name when he killed him and...

The rim of the cup was pressed to his lips. "Wha--"

Chris tilted the cup, letting water flow into Leon's mouth when he spoke. He blubbered on it for just a moment, then swallowed without even thinking. The lemon was refreshing. He began gulping it down, the coolness a welcome contrast to the heat from the whiskey.

Family...

....

Chris was silent, just tilting the cup and letting Leon have his fill. He had dealt with men in places like Leon was in before. Broken. Hurting. Just seeking respite. Hell, he'd been there himself. Probably would be one day again, counting on his line of work.

A little bit of clarity came back into Leon's eyes and Chris smiled. "Attaboy," He said warmly to the younger man. "You'll be alright. I got some sliders on the way too." He pulled the cup from his lips, lingering for a moment on the way the little drops of water that clung to Leon's stubble shimmered in the low light.

"Why do you give a shit?" Leon asked bluntly. "Nobody...nobody except Hunnigan has... Checked... After everything... Raccoon City..."

Chris frowned. Poor guy. He really was drunk off his ass. He heard a lot about Leon from his sister, and it was a whole lot different from what he was seeing.

"Because I know what it's like." Chris reached a hand out and placed it on Leon's shoulder. The smaller man startled, then eased back down. "A neverending nightmare, right? If we have to live through this shit, we might as well look out for each other."

A tray of sliders was slid onto their table by a waitress, dripping gooey cheese and still steaming. Chris smiled at the way Leon's eyes laser-focused onto the food. He did look like he had lost some weight in the months since the Kennedy Report.

"Nobody else will, yeah? So eat up."

...

Leon reached across the table and grabbed a slider, stuffing the entire thing into his mouth at once, most of it falling back to the table. He was clumsy, almost silly in his movements, but once the food hit his stomach he could feel himself sobering up, at least a little.

"Thanks." Leon said. "I don't have much to say but..." His eyebrows rose as Chris effortlessly engulfed a slider all at once. "How the hell does your mouth open that wide?"

"Practice." Chris grinned, speaking through a mouthful of meat and cheese.

Leon blushed despite himself. Fuck. Still off my game... I didn't expect to see anyone here tonight... And yet, he couldn't deny that he was feeling better. More steady. It hit him how alone he'd been since being released from the hospital after his mission and delivering the Kennedy Report.

"Yeah?" Leon said, grinning. "I bet I can fit two."

Chris actually guffawed in disbelief. "Yeah, okay. You couldn't even get one down without spilling it all over the place."

"I wasn't trying." Leon countered.

"If you can do two, I can do three." Chris learned at him, shit eating grin plastered across his face.

"What are you, bro, a snake?"

"Ugh, don't talk to me about snakes... Now why don't we make it a bet?"

....

Leon and Chris stood outside the bar roughly an hour later, the former much more light on his feet. The stickness and heaviness seemed to be gone, the slur in his words disappeared. Chris was pleased, and despite coming over to help the guy out, he had actually had a good time.

"So you really killed this fucking B.O.W. with only eggs?" Chris laughed in disbelief.

"They wouldn't let me put it in the report because they thought it was bullshit!" Leon exclaimed. "But yeah, the bastard was severely allergic to eggs, even after he mutated. The worst part was just trying to nail the aim."

"Taking down a giant man-eating monster with eggs. Holy shit. That's Agent Kennedy for you." Chris couldn't stifle a laugh. "I have to ask though...why did you have so many eggs?"

Leon blushed. It was cute. "I was on the field for a long time and got hungry. So I just picked them up in the village as I went."

Chris cocked an eyebrow.

"I didn't waste time! I had them raw." Leon said hurriedly, almost embarrassed. The blush deepened. Ah. So he cared what I thought of him.

"Not weird to me." Chris shrugged. "I pop a couple eggs into my smoothies every now and then. They help." He flexed one of his biceps, keenly aware of how tight his simple black t-shirt was. He was also keenly aware of Leon's eyes darting away before sliding up his arm and across his chest, then back up to his face.

Chris was tempted to hit the younger man with my eyes are up here but decided against it. He seemed skittish and stiff after his run against Saddler, and Chris didn't want to jinx this.

In fact, he wanted to see Leon more often. Just to check up on him and discuss missions of course.

....

Leon felt Chris' hand glide over the small of his back. It sent a warmth up his spine, but it was a heat worlds different from drunkenness. Maybe just as addictive though.

Still not completely sober, Leon leaned into the touch as Chris walked with him to his apartment. Chris didn't move his hand, and for a few moments, Leon felt content for the first time in a long time.

"Steady there?" Chris asked, and Leon could swear he heard the cockiness in his voice.

"Yeah. Still a little woozy." Leon played it cool as they approached the gate to his building. "This is it. Nothing special." He stalled, thinking of inviting Chris in with him. He hadn't been with a man since Jack, but...

No. Not again. He wouldn't get close to someone just for them to...to...

"Are you free next Friday?" Chris asked, dopey smile on his face. "My partner Jill will be on a mission of her own, my men and I've got nothing to do... We were thinking of maybe playing some sports together. I used to do football back in school."

"I can tell." Leon said, immediately regretting it. "Ah...sure. I could use something to pump my blood."

"I thought so." Chris flashed a thumbs up. "I'll come get you. Afternoon, okay?"

"Okay..." Leon felt confused. And flustered.

"It's a promise. Don't break it!" Chris waved as he turned away. "See you then!"

Leon watched him walk away. "See you..."

Maybe things could get better again.

#resident evil #chreon #leonxchris #resident evil 4 #re4r #chris redfield #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #re #resident evil fanfiction #spilled ink #lgbt #trans leon s kennedy #lgbtq #transmasc #trans #mlm

[yutaholic]

flipside (M)

PAIRING: Mark (NCT) + reader (female)

GENRE: the bet; buckle up buttercup; smut

SUMMARY: When your father moves you overseas for his job, you are determined to hate it until you discover the illegal street races happening after nightfall. Boys are quick to vie for your attention, but none catch your eye like Mark, who takes you on the ride of a lifetime.

WARNINGS: strong language; mild alcohol use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 21k words; listening to flipside by lana del rey

“How long are you planning to sulk out there?”

You ignored your father, chin raised high in defiance. Indefinitely, you replied in your mind. Or until you had come to terms with your new life.

Which, as far as you were concerned, was never.

He sighed in defeat. At least you were wrapped up in your favorite blanket. It would keep you warm in the wintry night air as you sat on the tiny balcony attached to your room, staring with hatred at the city around you.

Busan, you thought with disdain. There was no way you could be happy here. It was too crowded for one, but more importantly, despite how tightly packed it was with people, you didn’t have a single friend.

You had never felt so alone.

When your father received a well-deserved promotion at his job and told you that you would be moving with him overseas, you honestly didn’t believe it. There was no way in hell he would uproot you from the only life you’d ever known to relocate to a different country.

Especially after the death of your mother.

Your first thought was to move out, but you couldn’t afford it. Not when you were fresh out of college and trying to get into a good doctorate program. Your father suggested you take a year off to adjust yourself to Busan and resume your studies when you were comfortable. An offer you accepted out of spite.

Spite had become your dominant emotion of late. You had been close to your father once, but neither of you handled the loss of your mom well and you slowly but surely drifted apart.

It was almost easier that way.

Suddenly, you heard your name called from the door, followed by, “Chungha is here.”

Broken from your reverie, you asked, “Who?”

“My co-worker’s daughter, remember? She offered to show you around and help you get the hang of things.”

Oh, he was serious about that. You snorted back a chuckle. “No thanks.” Shaking your head, you huffed, “I’m sulking.”

“Well, turn that frown upside down,” came an unfamiliar, overly perky voice.

Brow furrowed, you turned around slowly.

A pretty girl with long blonde hair stood in the doorway of your balcony. She was dressed for the bitter cold nights, warmed by a long black coat and knee-high leather boots. You were tempted to ask if she was late for a Vogue shoot, but you held your tongue.

“I’m Chungha,” she greeted sweetly, holding out her hand. “You can call me Chungha.”

The humor bounced right off of you, but you would never be rude to someone that had done you no wrong. You stood, careful to keep your blanket wrapped around you, and shook her offered hand politely, but you gave her your name with complete disinterest.

She tilted her head coyly. “Someone is not happy.”

You absolutely adored her accent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she was American. It was getting harder and harder to stay perturbed at her for interrupting your existential crisis. “What gave me away?” you droned.

Chungha put her hands on her hips, dropping the niceties. “Listen, darling. If you wanna have attitude, I can give you a run for your money,” she said with a hint of warning.

You smirked in amusement and decided that Chungha was to be respected. “You have my attention.”

“Good. Now come inside. It’s fucking freezing.”

You closed the patio door behind you and tossed your blanket onto a nearby chair. Your bedroom was white and bland, with a potted plant sitting in the corner as the only pop of color. Brown boxes covered almost the entire floor. You hadn’t amassed enough motivation to unpack yet.

“You’re in denial,” Chungha quipped, crouching down to look inside an open box.

You asked curiously, “Why are you here?”

Chungha plunked down on the edge of your bed, crossed her legs, and replied, “Believe it or not, I was the new girl once too. Years ago. Someone vouched for me and helped me make friends and I wouldn’t be who I am today without that.”

“Sounds almost too good to be true,” you said, folding your arms.

“You’ve obviously got spunk and you’re super cute. I think you could fit in around here if you would just give it a chance.”

Given how pretty she was, the compliment made heat fill your cheeks, but you were stubborn to the end. “Why do you care?”

Chungha shrugged, but a smile tugged at her lips. She could tell by the softening of your tone that she was wearing you down little by little. “It literally costs nothing to be kind.”

You heaved a big sigh, accepting a temporary defeat. Curiosity was the only thing that could beat your obstinance. “What do you have in mind?”

“You’re in luck. It’s Friday and the gang will be together tonight. I would love to introduce you. What do you say?”

The last thing you wanted to do was go out into the world and all its unknown. You were determined to be angry at your father by locking yourself in your room and refusing to bond with your new city. But Chungha’s invitation gave you an idea. Going to a party and getting drunk and shoving your tongue down a boy’s throat could also be a convenient and effective revenge against your father.

“I’m down,” you told her.

Chungha clapped her hands together and leapt up, asking, “Which boxes have your clothes?”

You gestured around the room like perhaps she hadn’t noticed it looked like a tornado swept through.

Thirty minutes later, give or take, your entire wardrobe was piled on the bed.

Chungha tossed a pair of socks over her shoulder and said, “You should definitely wear something sexy.”

You snorted. “Sure. Let me just whip out my matching lace bra and panties.”

Chungha shook her head, holding up two of your jackets and comparing them, and quipped, “Trust me. Guys don’t want lingerie. They want mini skirts with thigh-high socks.”

“Noted.”

Of course, you were no stranger to what boys wanted. Most of them would settle for a warm body.

Chungha treated you like her new favorite doll and you were surprised by how much it distracted you from your anger. One article of clothing after another, you eventually stepped out of the bedroom in an all-black ensemble. Complete with a mini skirt and thigh highs.

Pulling on a cropped hoodie over your tee, you stood patiently as Chungha layered three long necklaces and slipped them over your head. They would draw attention to your cleavage, she said. Glancing you over, satisfied with her work, Chungha asked, “Ready to go?”

“When you are,” you replied blandly, but you were eager to get drunk. She didn’t need to know that though. She just needed to give you a ride home afterward.

Leading you out of your room, Chungha nearly collided into you when she whipped around and said, “Just one more thing - how do you feel about fast cars?”

It was the very last thing you expected.

The night was alive, the sun long gone. Music was blaring from all directions. Cars revved their engines. The scent of cigarettes and booze filled the air. The chatter of a dozen different conversations buzzed in your ears.

“Now, this is a distraction,” you mused to yourself.

Chungha held your hand as she led you between cars. A few boys whistled at you or tried to steal your attention with lewd noises and gestures, but you were attached at the hip to Chungha, who stuck up her middle finger to them all.

“Don’t worry. They won’t mess with us,” she told you loudly over the noise. “They’re scared shitless of my boyfriend.”

You chuckled at that.

Chungha parted from you to slip into the burly arms of a tall boy standing by an electric green muscle car. He didn’t hesitate to kiss her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and squeezing a handful of her ass. You glanced away awkwardly and waited.

She stole a cute kiss or two from her boyfriend before remembering you, waving you forward and saying, “This is Jaemin.”

“Hi,” he greeted with a broad, charming smile.

“Hello,” you replied, giving him your name.

Jaemin had jet black hair with flames buzzed in his undercut. They matched the designs on the hood of his car to perfection. Which led you to assume that cars weren’t just a hobby for these boys, but a way of life. Jaemin gave you an equally scrutinizing look before turning to Chungha, drawing her flush against him and chiding playfully, “You brought a total stranger to our den?”

“She’s new to town and looking for trouble. She’s not exactly happy to be here,” Chungha told him, giving you a wink.

Jaemin was quick to joke, “Then she definitely hasn’t tried the food yet.”

You scoffed back a laugh. But the vibe of the place was already growing on you.

Boys blew pillars of smoke into the air, cigarettes hanging from their lips or vapes held between their fingers. Alcohol was flowing freely among everyone except the drivers, for obvious reasons. One of them spotted you and your empty hands and tossed you a can of hard seltzer without a word.

Speaking of drivers, some of them were already talking shit to each other over the upcoming race. As you opened the can and put it to your lips for a sip, you chuckled as they squabbled like a flock of birds.

Girls strutted by in their skin-tight jeans and low-cut shirts, despite the cold. It was hard to feel the chill with all the exhaust and smoke and bodies packed together. The lights of the city shone brightly against the pitch black sky, illuminating the old parking lot where the pre-race party was underway.

“See anyone you like?” Chungha asked cutely, nudging your hip with her own.

You shook your head. To be honest, all of the boys that puckered their lips at you or eye-fucked you from across the way looked like they would blow their loads in thirty seconds or less.

And though you weren’t opposed to getting laid, you’d be damned if you gave it up to any of these self-absorbed little pricks.

A clamor suddenly rang out within the crowd and cheers filled the air as a sleek black car turned the corner and roared into the lot. You rolled your eyes at the noise, but did a double-take at the boy that stepped out of the car.

He wasn’t just good-looking. He was fine.

Interested, you leaned into Chungha and asked, “Who’s that?”

“Ah, that’s Mark. He’s on a huge winning streak right now. Super competitive,” she told you offhandedly.

“And arrogant,” Jaemin snipped.

Chungha playfully scolded, “He is not. Don’t listen to him.” She put her hand on Jaemin’s chest and gave him a few sympathetic pats. “He’s just bitter that Mark beat him last weekend. They’re really close.”

Her words faded into the background of noise. Your eyes were stuck on Mark. You couldn’t look away no matter how hard you tried. And you were biting and chewing your lip like you were about to dig into a hot meal after weeks of dieting. You watched him greet some of the other guys, but pay no mind to the girls. Which piqued your curiosity.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Mark noticed you. Staring at him shamelessly.

Despite the distance, Mark locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile. His eyes raked up and down your body, and he cocked his head, probably wondering, Why haven’t I seen this girl before?

You cleared your throat and turned away, asking Chungha some mundane question so you could appear unbothered and ignore the hard thumping of your heart.

The cars began rounding up. A makeshift starting line was drawn on the cracked asphalt with chalk. Jaemin hopped into his car and fired up the engine, catching you off guard with how loudly it roared to life.

Chungha squeezed your hand and told you excitedly, “Just sit tight. I have no doubt someone will ask you to ride with them.”

You waved goodbye as Chungha slid into Jaemin’s car, giggling when you saw her clamber over and press the most aggressive kiss on his lips.

Well, that was one surefire way to wind him up.

Meandering out of the way with the crowd, lining up to watch the start of the race, you searched briefly for Mark, having lost sight of his black car in the commotion. Disappointment felt heavy in your chest. Part of you hoped he would come and sweep you off your feet for the night.

“I call dibs on the new girl,” said Jeno, flicking his lighter repeatedly.

You opened your mouth to decline, but Mark appeared at your side, taking your hand and slipping it to the crook of his elbow. “But new girl already called dibs on me,” he purred.

The surrounding boys erupted into whistles and laughs, a few making sounds at Jeno’s expense. You could only liken them to a pack of rabid hyenas.

But who cared? Mark was even handsomer up close. You kept your composure and let Mark lead you to his car parked at the starting line, a little surprised when he opened the passenger door for you. Very gentlemanly of him.

“So…,” Mark began as he settled in his seat, revving the engine. “How are you liking Busan?”

“I hate it,” you replied without missing a beat.

Surprise flickered over Mark’s face and he chuckled at your blunt attitude. His eyes inevitably fell to your bare thighs. The mini skirt had slipped back a bit and you’d made no moves to adjust it. “Really?” he asked.

You grumbled, “It wasn’t my idea to move here.”

Mark reached over, grabbing your seatbelt and yanking to make sure it was taut. The action made you jolt in surprise, unsuspecting. “Ever been in a street race before?”

You stared straight ahead, heart picking up speed. Having been distracted by Mark and how goddamn attracted you were to him, you’d neglected to fully realize you were about to be a passenger in a very illegal race. “Nope.”

It certainly satisfied your spiteful cravings.

Mark revved the engine again and again, and teased under his breath, “You’re pretty calm for a virgin.”

You finally turned your head, meeting his eyes, and flirted, “You better win. I would hate to have a bad first time.”

Mark flashed a grin of perfect teeth. “Don’t you worry, baby,” he said, voice deepening. “Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.”

You braced your hands where you could when he slammed his foot on the gas and took off, knocking the air out of you.

The feeling was indescribable. You were the tiniest jump away from taking flight into the night sky. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

One wrong move at this speed and you’d be dead. You knew that. But Mark drove with unmatched skill, drifting around turns with expert precision. He was letting you flirt with danger, dangling you over the fire, but never letting you get burned.

The roads were mostly empty at this late hour, but Mark deftly weaved around cars on the highway. You found yourself relaxing, leaning into the movements of his car like you were a part of it. On more than one occasion, you cried out at a sharp turn like you were on the greatest rollercoaster of your life, making Mark smile.

He crossed the finish line ahead of the rest, and rather than stick around and celebrate, he kept going, driving and driving. His car sped over a bridge, along the water and finally - after what felt like hours - returned to the lot.

Mark jerked the parking brake, which made a loud pop, and looked over at you with a snicker of pure mischief. “Better than sex, isn’t it?”

You blew out a breath. “Wow.” Then, you faced him and said, “Do it again.”

Mark smirked, shifting gears. “Virgin to whore in zero to sixty.”

You bit your lip as warmth flared behind your cheeks.

Maybe Busan wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Well?” Chungha asked with a wry smile.

You briefly looked over your shoulder, hoping it was Mark’s eyes you felt on your backside, and sure enough, there he was leaning against his car and watching you walk away with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Chungha saw where your attention had gone and giggled.

“Apparently, I’m an adrenaline junkie,” you joked, running a hand through your hair. You felt exhausted and disheveled, but in the best of ways. Like you’d had mad, filthy sex for an hour and were still riding on the heels of your high.

All without even being touched.

Chungha draped an arm around your shoulders and gushed, “It’s amazing, right? The noise, the vibration, and the sexy guy with his hand on the wheel.”

You tucked your head bashfully. “Yeah, he’s… a very good driver,” you mumbled.

“Among other things.”

You let her take you home, wishing you could have stayed all night.

Curled up in bed, you dreamt of fast cars and cities reduced to blurs of colors. And maybe Mark. He may have appeared for a second or two, but you quickly forbade yourself from thinking about him for too long.

It’s not that you disliked Mark. Quite the contrary. You were undeniably hot for him. It was hard not to be. With that goddamn smile and big, sparkly eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted to kiss someone this badly.

If ever.

But you’d had time to think and everything about Mark Lee screamed fuckboy. Given the state of your heart, you weren’t in the mood to have it broken by a guy anytime soon.

And yet, you found yourself crossing your fingers in the hopes that he would take you for a spin again, driving at such a speed you could escape your problems for a moment.

You slept well into the afternoon, woken only by your phone ringing loudly on the nightstand. In your excitement, you’d forgotten to put it on Do Not Disturb. Annoyed, you rasped, “Who the hell is this?”

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Chungha chirped, taking your mood in stride.

You sat up, but refused to crawl out from beneath the warm blankets. “Sulking and contemplating my own existence.”

“You’re still mad about moving? Come on. It’s not that bad here.”

“A hot guy and a fast car don’t make up for all the things I left behind, Chungha.”

Chungha paused, gathering her words, and continued, “You’re right, but you can make some friends here if you would just give them a chance.”

You pursed your lips and thought about arguing, but you didn’t want to. You wanted to see Mark again. “What do you have in mind?”

“There’s another hangout tonight. Whoever lost the race last night has to buy all the booze.”

“Poor guy,” you droned, sarcastic. “What time?”

For the first time in your life, you counted down the hours until the sun began to set. Never before had you actively wished the day away. Once the daylight hours ran out, you dolled yourself up. Not in an obvious “I wanna get laid” kind of way, but pretty damn close.

Jaemin swung by and picked you up, and Chungha couldn’t pass the opportunity to tease you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s smiling.”

“Shut up,” you whined, insincere.

She wasn’t wrong. You were beaming.

Instead of the abandoned lot from before, Saturdays were conducted by the sea. There was a nook off a long, narrow road, turning from a stretch of gravel to smooth pavement lightly dusted with sand.

“How about that view, huh?” Chungha said, hopping out of the car.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, wide eyes taking in the horizon where the waves churned.

Since arriving in Busan, you felt like you could breathe for the first time. You were no longer suffocating between buildings and people, but in a broad, open space, inhaling the crisp, salty air of the ocean.

Kinda similar to how you felt in Mark’s car the night before, but you didn’t need to dwell on that.

Chungha led you over, holding your hand after sensing your hesitation. This crowd wasn’t like the night before. It was much thinner, consisting of only the drivers. You recognized most of the boys, a few of them with girls tucked close.

Obviously the ones in a relationship. Or maybe they were potential hookups. You couldn't be sure. A few were flying solo, but they didn’t seem to mind.

Rather than chaos building toward a race, this was casual and relaxed.

Chungha announced your name to the group in case they’d missed it and everyone either greeted you or gave you a polite little wave. You thanked them and waved back, but your eyes were scanning the group.

Mark wasn’t there. Much to your disappointment.

Chungha giggled as she sat squarely on Jaemin’s lap, knowing exactly why you suddenly looked miffed, but didn’t say a word about it. Your secret was safe with her.

Pushing back on thoughts of Mark, which you had plenty of practice with for the past couple of hours, you took an empty seat beside Haechan, who introduced himself to you sweetly.

Cars formed a circle around the little gathering and Haechan pointed at the lusciously violet car behind him. “She’s mine,” he said proudly.

“The color is insane,” you exclaimed. “Is she fast?”

“Like lightning.”

“Did you race last night?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yep. I got stuck in the middle. Finished in third though.”

“That’s not bad,” you said with a smile.

“Not as good as first, obviously,” Haechan joked, mischievous. “Which you scored on your very first ride along.”

You flushed and lowered your head, biting your lip. And you couldn’t help but ask, “Yeah, speaking of… that, where is Mark?”

“He’s running late. He works a lot.”

Hope rose in your chest. “Ah.”

Haechan sized you up then, the corner of his mouth lifting. He put the beer to his lips and downed a mouthful, and decided then and there he would not be pursuing you. Not when you had those Mark Lee stars in your eyes already.

Jeno meandered over, not so subtly, and cozied up beside you. He asked how you were liking Busan, tucked some of your hair behind your ear, and followed up with, “You wanna come with me for a quick spin, baby?”

You looked into his handsome face and arched a brow. “Quick, huh?”

Pretending to wince, Jeno flirted, “I could spare a couple minutes on foreplay.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you smarted, getting to your feet in search of a drink.

Jeno grabbed your hand, stopping you, and you turned back toward him. The impatience was evident on your face. “Please,” Jeno whined, peering up at you with sad eyes. “My doctor told me I only have a few days left to live.”

You squeezed his hand, stuck out your lip, and said, “I’m not getting your dick wet. I guess you’ll just have to die.”

Haechan laughed as you walked off, earning a playful shove from Jeno and almost toppling out of his chair.

Chungha, the angel that she was, had already given you the rundown on the boys on the way over. Jeno was very accustomed to girls throwing themselves at him, because in addition to being sexy as hell, he was also packing. What he lacked in charm, he allegedly made up for in dick.

Jaemin, of course, was in a committed, happy relationship. Chungha gushed to you how well he treated her, and how much she doted on him. They were talking about marriage and kids and the whole boring suburban life together while you rode in the backseat.

It was really damn cute.

Renjun was kinda mean, but taken. Yangyang was in a friends with benefits situation. Chenle and Jisung were more concerned with beating each other in races than hooking up with girls. Their need for competition currently outweighed their desire to chase pussy. Shotaro was new from Japan and had a huge crush on a girl, but was too scared to make a move yet.

Though given the way she was leaning against him and smiling, it was safe to say the feelings were mutual.

Which left Mark and Haechan. Aside from blood, they were brothers. Partners in crime. If you ever wanted to date Mark, you would be dating Haechan too. And vice versa.

Not that you would ever want to date Mark. Pfft. The idea hadn’t crossed your mind.

After reaching into the cooler to grab a beer, you found yourself putting it back. And for the most obnoxious reason. You didn’t want beer breath.

Why the fuck were you thinking about kissing someone? And not just anyone. You wanted to kiss Mark. Who wasn’t even fucking there.

Get a grip, you chastised yourself, returning to Haechan when you noticed Jeno had migrated back over to Jaemin. Much to Chungha’s annoyance, as she had been nibbling on her boyfriend’s neck and he still hadn’t gotten the hint.

“You don’t want a drink?” Haechan asked curiously.

You shook your head and sat next to him, the wind coursing into your hair.

As it turned out, Haechan was allergic to silence and he started asking questions, showing a genuine interest in you. And you found yourself answering him without any hesitation or pretense.

You talked about college, about the move, about your life back home. Although you said nothing of your mother, of course. You told him about your friends and your hobbies. Haechan volunteered very little information about himself. It almost felt like he was interviewing you.

For what, you had no idea.

The sound of a revving engine drew everyone’s attention and your heart skipped a beat when you recognized Mark’s black car joining the circle. An empty space had been left for him. Which was very sweet in its own way.

Mark leapt out and greeted his friends, apologizing for how late work had kept him.

You were the only one that stayed put, watching and waiting, gripping the edges of your seat and dangling your legs back and forth.

Mark finally - fucking finally - acknowledged your presence, pretending to be shocked to see you and said, “Hey, new girl.”

You pouted. “I have a name, you know.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Mark replied, putting a hand over his heart and then addressing you by name.

“Better,” you retorted, smiling.

Haechan slouched back into his seat beside you, sipped his beer, and said, “Mark, your new friend here is a college graduate.”

“Really?”

You glanced over at Haechan, bemused.

“Yeah. She’s even planning on going to grad school.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Impressive.”

“Okay, this isn’t weird at all,” you mumbled, giving Haechan a look. “Is that some inside joke I’m not in on?”

“Yes,” he said.

Well, at least he was honest. Couldn’t fault him for that. You shrugged. “Alright then.”

Mark chuckled.

Time soon lost all meaning. Mark, regardless of how brusque and arrogant he was behind the wheel, was a total sweetheart outside of his car. He didn’t make any moves on you, which was a little frustrating, but he seemed eager to hear where your head was at over the move to Busan and particularly wanted to know how long you would be staying.

You didn’t know. Your father was very vocal about how much he liked it, which meant he could request to stay indefinitely. And probably would so he could stay in denial about your mother having ever existed. But that was a conversation to be unpacked another day. Or never. You, on the other hand, were longing to go back home, hoping and praying this was only a temporary stint. A mere blip on the radar of your life.

That was partly why you were drawn to Mark. Him being handsome and funny and charming had nothing to do with it. Okay, maybe not all to do with it. But you were attracted to the fact that anything that went down between you and Mark would be left behind in Busan when you went home.

He would be a passing daydream.

Eventually, Mark decided he’d heard enough. You were definitely into him and he was vibing with you. So he was rather confident when he asked, “Can I take you somewhere?”

I thought you’d never ask. “Sure,” you replied, screaming internally.

Mark held out his hand and you took it. You told Chungha you were leaving and off the two of you went in Mark’s black car.

He drove like a normal person. Again, much to your disappointment. He didn’t speed or drift. His car cruised along the road, parking at a spot overlooking the water.

Mark unbuckled his seatbelt. “Sorry for taking you away from everyone,” he apologized, but there was something playful in his tone. “I wanted you to myself.”

“I’m glad,” you said quietly, leaning toward him. Your heart started to pick up speed. “It’s much warmer in here.”

Mark came closer, the console between your seats the only thing in his way, and whispered, “I’ve been dying to kiss you.”

“Kiss me then.”

Mark cradled your head in his hand, slipping his fingers into your hair, and pulled you the rest of the way toward him, meeting his lips to yours.

You should have known he was a good kisser, but this was something else. He started soft and slow, and you matched his energy, panting for more until Mark tightened his grip on your hair and flicked his tongue into your mouth.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Mark broke from the kiss to ask.

By now, you had pulled him halfway into your seat and regardless of how uncomfortable it was with that console digging into his stomach, Mark didn’t utter a single complaint. “Nothing,” you said, impatient. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

Mark held onto your waist and drew you close, kissing you with abandon. Then, he remembered his train of thought, which had come to a grinding halt at the heat of your kisses and the warmth of your body against his. “Come out with me. I’ll show you some good places.”

Honestly, the only good place you wanted to see was him without any of his clothes on, but you needed to pace yourself. “Okay. What time?”

“How does noon sound?”

“Perfect.”

Mark tore himself away from you with a groan, tipping his head back and taking a breath. “We need to stop,” he rasped, but tugged you toward him until his lips brushed yours again. He was weighing how bad it would be if he just made out with you for the foreseeable future.

You nipped at his lips and played coy. “What for?”

“Before we keep going.”

You stopped, both surprised and maybe a little impressed that he didn’t want to go further with you already. Perhaps he was worth more of your time and attention. You could draw this out; make it fun. You smirked at him, your eyes falling to his swollen lips, evidence of your thirst for trouble.

“Take me home, Mark,” you said, leaving a parting kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Mark smiled.

You pulled up your address on his phone and Mark drove to your house, coming to a stop at the foot of your driveway. His hand rested possessively on your thigh, as it had since you left that spot overlooking the sea.

You unfastened your seatbelt and started to get out, but Mark grabbed your hand and asked, his voice low and soft, “Can I have one more kiss?”

Of course, he could. You gave him two for good measure.

Mark watched you walk up the driveway and shoot one more lusty look his way before going inside. Not until you were safe and sound did he leave. Which you noticed, peeking out the window as his car roared away.

He earned himself even more points with that.

Your name ringing out in the hallway made you gasp and whip around. “Jeez, Dad. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you exclaimed in surprise.

Your father’s shoulders were drooping. His eyes were bloodshot. He was clearly exhausted, but never lost his humor. “I just want to say that I know you’re a grown woman and make your own decisions,” he began, making you quirk a brow. “You’ve always been very responsible, but please… I am not ready to be a grandfather.”

You burst into laughter, having been worried he was actually going to chide you. Though it was no secret he’d been letting you get away with a lot more since your mother’s passing. You guessed he thought it compensated for his emotional absence in her wake.

Marching up to your dad, you rose to your tiptoes and hugged him, saying, “Don’t worry, Pop. I’m the only fussy baby allowed around here.”

He kissed your temple. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

Very, very sweet, you thought mischievously.

The next day, Mark parked his car outside your house two minutes before noon. He certainly earned more points for punctuality and the fuckboy designation was shedding away.

The broadest grin spread across Mark’s lips as he watched you rush out of the house and into his car, flirting, “Hey, pretty girl.”

You leaned in, stealing a kiss before fastening your seatbelt.

It was nightfall when you returned home; the entire Sunday spent with Mark. And the next Sunday after that. And the one after that, too.

Everyone came to accept you as part of the group, greeting you like a part of the gang on Saturday night hangouts. You were Mark’s passenger for every race, rewarding him with a kiss when he crossed the finish line. With tongue.

Jeno made a few more persistent attempts to steal you away, but with the way Mark didn’t care and sometimes laughed at his friend’s expense, you assumed it was a running joke and everyone enjoyed seeing Jeno make a fool of himself. So you played along.

Oddly enough, Jisung even tried to shoot his shot with you, but you were all eyes for Mark.

And his eyes were always on you.

The weeks were misery, because Mark worked as hard as he played and he didn’t have a free moment to spare for you. But you did stay up through the night on the phone with him more often than not. At some point, you would fall asleep, no matter how hard you fought it.

You liked getting to know him and it seemed he liked getting to know you too.

Mark let slip that he was pulling extra shifts during the week to give himself more free time - with you - on the weekends, and that made something somersault in your chest. Maybe your heart. Not that you’d interacted much with her over the past few years.

You were beginning to wonder if she was still there, but thanks to Mark, she was waking up.

Mark intentionally bumped into you as you walked alongside him, the two of you eating ice cream. You giggled and nudged him back with your hip, getting a chunk of brownie on your spoon to feed him. Sitting at one of the tables outside, you ate in comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances at the water in the distance. It was a strangely warm day for winter, causing fog to cover the shore like cotton.

You smirked at Mark as you let the red spoon linger in your mouth, because he was playing footsie with you under the table, rubbing his ankle up your bare calf. You spryly slipped out of your shoe and pinched him with your toes, making Mark yelp in surprise.

“You’re cute,” Mark murmured, propping his head on his hand and staring at you with big, twinkly eyes.

You cocked your head, sinking your teeth into your lip. His leg moved between your knees now. “Can I help you find something?” you asked sheepishly. The short pleated skirt was definitely a good choice. You hoped it would be too tempting for him to ignore.

Mark took your hand and played with your fingers while he rubbed his knee against your inner thigh and said, “I can find it just fine.”

You smirked, about to say something snarky, when an unfamiliar voice called, “Lee Minhyung!”

Mark startled, his eyes filling with fear, and he pulled away from you, getting to his feet as someone approached. “Yeonjun,” he huffed under his breath. “What do you want?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Yeonjun jeered. He was flanked by two other guys, both of them sporting wolfish grins. The trio looked like they were up to no good.

“I’m kinda busy right now,” Mark said, sidestepping until he stood in front of you, shielding you from view. “Let’s do this later.”

The protective gesture was not lost on you. The hairs on your neck stood straight up.

Yeonjun leaned over, peeking around Mark as belligerently as possible, and waved at you. “Hello, beautiful. Friend of Mark’s?”

Everything about this boy rubbed you the wrong way, especially with how Mark was reacting to him. So you chose to pinch your lips together and say nothing. Though giving him a raised middle finger was at the top of the list of possibilities.

“How did you land such a fine fucking female, Minhyung-ie?”

Mark bristled and set his jaw, hissing, “Don’t talk to her.”

Yeonjun dropped his smile, his lips frowning with contempt. He jabbed his finger into Mark’s chest and snapped, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

Mark held his ground, but didn’t fight back, taking every shove to his chest Yeonjun gave him. And that downright infuriated you.

You don’t know what came over you, but you leapt up, braced both hands on Yeonjun’s chest and pushed him back, cursing, “Fuck off. Leave him alone.”

Yeonjun gawked in surprise before grinning with delight. “Mark, put a leash on your pussy cat,” he said, amused.

Mark already had his arms around you, steering you behind him, but you wouldn’t back down and taunted, “Come on, tough guy. You wanted a scene - I’ll fucking give you one.”

Yeonjun laughed. By the look in his eyes, he wanted to eat you up for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“Let’s go,” Mark insisted before the situation devolved further, taking your hand in his and hauling you away with him.

Yeonjun didn’t give chase and as you scowled at him over your shoulder, he waved goodbye and called out, “That one’s gonna cost you extra, Minhyung!”

Your brows stitched, but you let Mark drag you away. His pace was fast, hurried, like he couldn’t escape them fast enough.

Once in the clear, Mark steered you behind a tree, backed you against it and scolded, “Are you fucking insane?”

You folded your arms in defiance. “Call me crazy, but where I come from, we stick up for each other.”

“No one has ever stuck up for me like that before,” Mark said softly, as if it had just dawned on him. You were brave. And reckless as hell, but Mark liked it.

“Would you have let them?”

“No. My business is mine. Don’t put yourself in danger like that for me again.”

You rolled your eyes, assuming that was for the sake of his pride. “Mark, you don’t tell me what to do.”

“Please,” he said, putting his hands together. “Please, don’t do that again. I’m asking. Not demanding.”

You narrowed your gaze on Mark, studying him. “They’re dangerous, huh?”

Mark bobbed his head. “More than a little.”

“What do they have on you?”

Part of you expected him to deflect or even lie, but Mark caught you off guard when he answered honestly, “My family owes his family money.”

“So, the son pays for the sins of the father?”

“Something like that.”

You pursed your lips, tensing with frustration at the injustice of it all. That’s why Mark worked so hard. He was paying off debts. Debts that weren’t even his fault or his responsibility. “That’s… bullshit,” you said angrily.

“Yeah, I know,” Mark replied, lowering his head. He carried shame too. Shame that was never his to begin with either. It was passed on, like the rest of his troubles.

You felt bad for getting snippy with him and reached forward to cradle his face in your hands, making him look at you. With a sigh, you asked, “Is there any way I can help you?”

Mark melted on the spot, closing the distance until he was flush against you. “No, but I appreciate the offer and I respect you trying to protect me.”

“You’re my friend,” you crooned, stroking a thumb over his cheek. God, you could get lost in those eyes of his for hours. “I protect my friends.”

Mark let his tongue linger in the corner of his mouth and tilted his head, asking, “Just a friend?”

“A friend that I make out with occasionally?”

“I’ll take it,” Mark said, sealing his lips to yours the moment the words left him.

You kissed him back, draping your arms around his shoulders and leaning back against the tree, taking him with you. You kissed him till you both were dazed, humming when his hands kneaded your waist.

Mark broke from the kiss thanks to a familiar growing hardness in his pants, but played it off well, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose and earning a little giggle.

You teased some of your fingers into his dark hair, still clinging to him tightly, and said, “You know, if you want to be more than friends, all you have to do is ask.”

Mark made a face and whined, “Well, I was planning on it, but I can’t now.”

You gawked. “What - why not?”

“Because you just said that. Now you’ll think it was your idea.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Mark trapped you back to him when you started to move away, nipping at your lips, and whispered, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart rocketed into your throat before doing cartwheels of celebration in your chest. “Ask me tomorrow when I’ve forgotten that I put you up to it,” you joked, but you were ready to say yes a thousand times.

Not letting you escape, Mark tightened his arms around your waist, his breath warm on your cheek. “Be my girlfriend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I’m a handful.”

Mark slipped a hand down your back and squeezed your ass, retorting, “I know that.”

“I swear a lot.”

“I like that about you.”

Well, you were officially out of arguments. And you were smiling so hard your cheeks began to ache. “Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Mark was beaming, crashing his lips on yours again for another heart-stopping kiss.

He brought you home not long after, telling you he had some work to take care of. You assumed it had to do with Yeonjun, but you were on such a high from his kisses and him asking you out that you didn’t pry.

As you clambered out of the car, Mark grabbed your hand and asked, “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m free,” you replied quickly. He should have known by now you would clear your schedule for him at any given moment. “What do you have in mind?”

“You like lobster?”

“Who doesn’t like lobster?”

Mark chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on your knuckles and said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You winked at him. “I’ll be ready.”

And you were. Dressed in your favorite blue dress with a denim jacket, you jogged to the front door and yelled, “Gotta go, Dad. Love you. Bye!”

“Just a second, dear.”

Much to your chagrin, you slowly turned around, cursing under your breath. “So close.”

Your dad took off his glasses and said with a tone that left no room for argument, “Have him come in.”

You devolved into a panic rather quickly, because you were your father’s only daughter so naturally he took great pleasure in trying to scare boys away from you. “Dad, please. I’m begging you. He’s a good guy.”

Your father held up his hands in surrender and said, “I’ll be an angel. I promise.”

You cut your eyes at him, but you trusted he was willing to play nice for the time being. Taking out your phone to text Mark, you jolted when the doorbell rang. Pleasantly surprised, you opened the door, flashing a big smile at the sight of your boyfriend. “Hi, Mark.”

Mark was looking a little too good in his leather jacket and ripped jeans. “Hey, beautiful,” he purred, leaning in and kissing your cheek. “You ready to go?”

“Um, my dad kinda wants to meet you,” you told him hurriedly as your father’s footsteps approached, mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

“So, you’re the boy driving my daughter all over the country?”

Crimson flushed Mark’s cheeks and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. “Yes, sir,” he said politely, holding out his hand. “I’m Mark. Mark Lee.”

Your father shook his hand firmly. “Alright, Mark. Anything happens to my daughter and you’ll be giving up the driver seat of your car for the trunk of my car. Am I clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir,” Mark replied, head held high. “I will protect her with my life.”

“Good.”

Your father stood on the porch and waved goodbye as Mark drove away. You waved back before rolling up the window.

“I’m sorry about that. My dad is overly protective.”

“Don’t be,” Mark interjected, holding your hand over the console between your bodies, lacing his fingers through yours. “If I had a daughter, I would be the same way.”

That made heat rush through your body.

Mark glanced over at you as he drove and murmured, “You look really nice tonight.”

“Thanks, boyfriend,” you said cutely.

He snickered, turning his eyes back to the road.

The fancy restaurant was bursting at the seams. It was Sunday night, after all. You smiled when Mark walked in with you on his arm and told them he had a reservation. The two of you cozied up in a booth by the windows, the buzz of red wine setting in, and you were far more hungry for each other than the food.

“What are your plans?” Mark asked curiously.

“Plans for what?” You spun some pasta on your fork and blew on it before taking a bite.

“Grad school.”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, fighting a frown. “My life is on pause while my dad is here. I figure I’ll start grad school when we go back home.”

Mark pursed his lips a little, but quickly forced a smile. “And what if you stayed here?”

You winced, like the notion repulsed you. “That would be the worst,” you groaned. Realizing how rude you sounded, you changed your tone and said, “I mean, this is like an extended vacation. Eventually, I will have to go home.”

“We should make the most of your time here then,” Mark whispered under his breath, putting the glass of wine to his lips.

You smiled knowingly. “Yes, we should.”

When you left the restaurant, Mark asked if he could take you somewhere. Just like he had that first night at the beach. Your heart danced in your chest. You knew what was coming next. In your experience, a month of kissing and touching could only culminate in one thing.

Frankly, you were shocked the two of you lasted this long.

Mark rolled his car into a garage next to a junkyard. The walls looked ready to crumble at any second, barely hanging on. The yellow lights flickered occasionally, giving off a warm hue.

Your high heels clicked on the concrete floor when you stepped out. “Wow,” was all you could say.

The garage housed four cars, each a different color and build. And each was in a different stage of progress. One was only a steel frame. But the one that snared your attention was a mint green Buick that definitely hadn’t made it out of the sixties.

You were tempted to ask Mark how in the hell he got his hands on a beauty like this. But then you realized, looking at the frame a few feet away, that maybe Mark was way more talented than he let on. You smoothed a hand over the hood and said in disbelief, “Did you make this?”

“I’m restoring it,” Mark clarified, blushing a little with pride. “I like old cars.”

“This is amazing.” And it was. You couldn’t imagine how much blood, sweat and tears went into restoring these old cars to their former glory. You imagined a shirtless Mark, glistening under the lights, hands covered in grease, and the mental image made you hot.

Mark pressed a button on the wall with the heel of his hand and the garage door began to close, creaking loudly. He watched you brace your hands on the open window, peering inside the Buick, even reaching in to run your fingers over the wheel.

You smiled when he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing beneath your ear. You ran your hand up his forearm and stood upright, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair as he pressed kiss after kiss down your throat.

Mark’s breath was hot on your skin as he whispered, “Ever done it in a car before?”

You snickered darkly and told him, “Yes. I’m very familiar with backseat sex on the side of the road. I was young and stupid once. Or twice.”

Damn. Why were you getting nervous? Why was your voice trembling?

Mark heard it too and he chuckled like the devil himself. “Mm.”

You tightened your grip on his hair and let your eyes flutter closed. He sucked a bruise intently where your neck met your shoulder, his hands roaming over your body, paying extra attention to your breasts.

She’s so beautiful, Mark thought to himself, too busy marking you to verbalize it. He couldn’t remember being so attracted to someone, so hellbent on having them. The moment you shoved Yeonjun away from him, Mark wanted to plow the shit out of you. But the majority of him was a gentleman and so he stifled those feelings down.

Which was getting increasingly harder to do. Mark wanted you so bad he couldn’t stand it. The little soft sounds spilling from your lips as he touched you shot straight to his cock. He winched his eyes closed and tried not to imagine bending you over the car and fucking you from behind.

When Mark broke from your neck with a wet pop, you turned around in his arms, looking into his eyes and wanting to crumble at how clouded with lust they’d become. “I’ve never done it… on a car before.”

Mark smirked, wondering if you could read his mind. He stole a quick kiss and whispered, “Wanna change that?”

You nodded and giggled when he smashed his lips on yours again. Very eagerly this time. Mark moved toward you, steering you to the car until you bumped back against it, slipping his tongue into your mouth to catch your gasp of surprise.

Mark could feel his heart racing, thundering like the powerful engine of his car. Something about you was just so goddamn intoxicating. Maybe it was that mouth of yours. How good you kissed him. Or how badly you made him laugh.

Excitement tickled up your spine when Mark slipped his hands beneath your dress and grabbed you by the hips, lifting you up and setting you down on the hood of the car. You would have questioned it. You would have expressed some concern over being sat unceremoniously on the glossy old Buick, but Mark’s kisses settled any doubts.

He most definitely wanted you on top of that car.

You hooked your legs behind his hips and used your toes to kick off your shoes carefully, because you’d be damned if you got a scratch on the perfectly painted surface. Then, you grabbed his jacket, guiding it off until it landed in a pile on the floor, dragging your fingers over his chest and shoulders, feeling the taut muscles underneath.

Mark broke from your lips to kiss and suckle on your neck, getting himself a little moan as reward. He palmed at your thighs, pushing your dress higher and higher until his hands found your lace thong.

You were hoping for some action tonight and dressed accordingly.

A tiny cry of surprise left you when Mark roughly shimmied your hips in the air, stripping you out of your underwear and dragging them down your legs before tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans like a souvenir.

You rocked back on your elbows, licking your lips when Mark’s eyes met yours, and crawled backwards, closer to the windshield. Mark pursued, clambering onto the hood and gathering your hips in his hands, tonguing his way down your inner thigh.

These sixties cars had such long front cabs. Who knew that would come in handy.

Mark ate you out like a man starved, bringing you to ecstasy on his tongue with his head buried between your thighs.

You couldn’t catch your breath, shaking on top of that car like you’d lost all control of your body. Your mind wasn’t far behind either. You undulated beneath Mark, your fists in his hair, borderline ripping the strands at the root. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, hypersensitive with orgasm.

“Give me one more,” Mark broke from your pussy long enough to growl, biting the inside of your thigh before going back in. You were shaking in his hands, totally at his mercy, curling away from his mouth because he was going to unravel you. And he loved every second of it.

“Mark, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, toes curling behind his back, thighs clamping on his head. Nothing slowed him down. You arched on the hood, your head colliding with the windshield, but that did nothing to distract you from the pounding in your ears.

It was your pulse racing uncontrollably. Your heart on the verge of combusting, leaving you in nothing but pieces.

You squirmed, but his grip on you was brutal. There was no escape. You turned on your side, hips bucking into his mouth as he flicked his tongue over your clit faster and faster. Mark growled when you snagged at his hair again, which only turned you on more.

The heat in your belly grew and grew. You could feel yourself gushing into his mouth and he lapped it all up hungrily. Fighting like hell against orgasm, you were no match for Mark and the high rushed through you again as you came, making you moan at the top of your lungs.

Mark knew then and there that he had you. But he was conflicted. He’d been out to suck the soul out of you, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t decide what his motivation was. At first, it was all part of seducing you.

On the one hand, he’d been wanting to fuck you since that first night and he’d had an ulterior motive for getting you into his backseat too. But with every minute spent with you, Mark came to accept that he liked you.

Maybe with time, he could even love you.

And then you made those comments at the restaurant. About how this was but a short stop in the grand scheme of your life and you were counting down the days until it was over. You made no mention of Mark and your newfound relationship with him. He was just a tiny part of this passing daydream.

You didn’t care about him at all.

So, Mark decided to have his fun. If you only wanted someone to kiss and fuck, he would gladly be that for you. All his feelings be damned. Mark wouldn’t be caught dead loving someone that had no intention of loving him back.

He may have been a fool for pussy, but he was not a fool with his heart.

Your body went limp, the last few aftershocks of climax making your legs tremble. Mark propped himself up over you and wiped his mouth, glistening with your pleasure, and purred, “I love the way you taste.”

You were still panting and panting, your chest rising and falling. Your dress had bunched up to your ribs. You finally willed yourself to lift your head and look at him. And you immediately let your head fall back again. “Fuck.”

Mark’s lips were toying with a grin. He was quite pleased with himself, hopping off the car. There was a very obvious bulge in his jeans, painfully hard, and he was hoping you would help with that. Running his hand on the edge of the hood affectionately, he said, “This was not the best idea I ever had.”

That fully brought you back to your senses. You sat up, tugging your dress down, and asked worriedly, “What? Why?”

“Because every time I look at this damn car now, I’m gonna get hard.”

You covered your mouth, hiding your laugh.

Mark reached over, getting you in his arms and setting you down. The concrete was cold on your bare feet, but you didn’t care. You instantly folded into his embrace, welcoming his kisses that shifted from sweet to hot.

“Mark,” you sighed, clinging to him for dear life. Mark had you pinned against the car, stealing the air out of your lungs, touching every inch of you his hands could reach. You could feel the bulge in his jeans and you reached down to palm it, earning yourself a needy groan.

“Wanna come inside?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Do you wanna…,” Mark trailed, forcing himself to stop kissing you for a goddamn second to look into your eyes. “Fool around?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

Mark took you by the hand and led you into the house attached to the garage. You didn’t notice anything about it, because you were too busy sucking on Mark’s tongue in your mouth. You stumbled with him across a tiny kitchen and into a narrow hallway, bumping into walls together before being steered into a bedroom and falling onto a squeaky mattress with him on top of you.

To say you returned the favor would be an understatement. Mark released down your throat with the most delicious groan you’d ever heard, his hand tangled in your hair, and you sucked him clean. Your dress was on the floor along with his clothes, both of you naked and sweating and panting, peeking your heads out from under the blanket to catch your breath before slipping back under again.

While Mark stroked two fingers into your wet pussy, you pumped his cock in your fist to get him stiff again. Which took no time at all. He was hot and hard and ready for you just as you spilled over the edge once more, crying out Mark’s name as you clenched on his fingers.

Mark talked and coaxed you through it. “Mm, that’s a good girl,” he rasped, nibbling on your collarbone, making you see stars at the height of your pleasure. “You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Was he trying to ruin you?

You whimpered when he rolled you onto your stomach, dragging his tongue over your shoulders and crowding your back, jerking his cock as he made room for himself between your thighs. You came back to your senses then and turned, bracing a hand on his abs to stop him.

Mark looked at you, puzzled, smoothing his palm down your side. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I… I’m not ready to do sex with you yet,” you told him nervously, still trembling. “Is that okay?”

It was kind of a surprise to you. You’d been ready and eager to fuck him, but now, you didn’t want to give it up just yet. You liked Mark a little too much. You needed to see if he thought of you as worth waiting for.

Mark flipped you over onto your back again, kissing your chest, right over your thundering heart. “Of course, it’s okay,” he said with a reassuring smile.

You breathed out in relief. Lifting your head, you closed your eyes and kissed him hotly. And the two of you faded into the night.

In the morning, you woke up with Mark’s arm around your naked waist, spooning you from behind like you were his favorite pillow. He was also snoring a bit, which almost made you laugh, because he’d exhausted your body so much you’d slept right through it. You turned around carefully in his hold, nuzzling his cheek and burying your face beneath his chin. Mark instinctively molded against you, holding you to his chest.

Wow, was all you could think. Despite not going all the way, you would remember this night for as long as you lived. You kissed for what felt like hours. You touched and pleasured each other. Frankly, you lost count of how many times he made you come. Mark finished so hard when you worked him between your tits that he apologized a thousand times for the mess he made on your chest.

Between rounds, you talked and laughed and cuddled. Mark hugged you to him so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, crushed between his arms, but to you, it was never tight enough. You wanted him to devour you whole, leaving behind only the good parts of you, destroying the bad.

It was everything. Everything you never knew you were missing.

Clinging to Mark, you stared at his perfect profile, tracing senseless patterns on his chest with your fingertips. He looked even more adorable while sleeping and that did nothing but fluster you more.

Would staying here with him really be so bad?

You frowned. That was too forbidden a thought. Mark was only a fling. You wouldn’t be here much longer. The dynamic between you and him wouldn’t even be this hot if not for the fact you would be leaving eventually, no strings attached. Like it meant nothing.

Right?

It was Sunday morning. Mark had nowhere to be and neither did you. He probably expected you to spend the day with him as you had every Sunday since you met. You mulled it over and decided it would be better to leave for now.

You’d had your fair share of intimacy with someone you were determined not to fall for.

In the daylight, you got your first glimpse of Mark’s little house. He clearly lived alone and with very limited means. But in a total contrast with your new house and all its cold emptiness, Mark’s place was warm and clearly lived in.

As you meandered through his living room, looking at the photos on the walls, covered in a layer of dust, you wondered what it would be like to be added among them. You could see yourself happy in his place. Honestly, being with Mark, you didn’t notice your surroundings much.

And his bed was more than comfortable. The bed you had just left.

That’s when you felt like you were intruding in his safe space and decided not to linger. Slipping into the garage to retrieve your shoes, you smoothed your hand over the green Buick’s hood and whispered, “Thank you for your service.”

When Mark woke up, he looked around for you and found a note left on his nightstand, which read, You look extra cute when sleeping. You also snore. Which is kinda cute too. I called a cab to take me home. I need a shower. Badly. Totally your fault but I won’t hold it against you.

Mark snorted, lingering his eyes on the note. You had drawn a winking face in the corner and signed it with your name. Mark wondered why it felt so formal, like you were thanking him for the orgasms and then heading back to your life.

As if he’d served his purpose.

It felt dismissive and borderline cold. Even though you’d made a point to call him cute. That didn’t matter. Mark could tell you were just as conflicted about where this relationship was heading as he was.

Running a hand through his hair and then running it down his face, Mark roused out of bed and dragged his feet into the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

Across town, you were in the shower too. Although part of you really didn’t want to scrub the scent of Mark from your skin, it was necessary in the process of washing away your feelings.

Wrapped in a towel, your hair dripping wet, you couldn’t resist checking your phone. And imagine your surprise when you saw that you had no new texts from Mark.

Disappointment creased your face. At the very least you expected a funny “thanks for the blow jobs” text or something. Considering how hard he’d moaned and come all over you, you’d given him a top tier nut or two.

Tossing the phone onto your nightstand, you dropped down on the edge of the bed and tried not to let it bother you, but catching one of the birds outside your window with your bare hands would have been easier.

Did you really have any room to complain though? Nope. You were the one that bolted out of his bed before he woke up like a thief in the night.

Whatever, you thought bitterly. Mark was yours for a moment and that moment had seemingly passed.

He didn’t call or text that week. At night, when you curled up to sleep, you thought back to all those hours spent on the phone with him, getting to know him. Falling asleep with his dreamy voice in your ear. You didn’t want to admit you missed Mark. You missed him desperately. It was pathetic.

It felt like a year before Friday rolled around and Chungha sent you a text, You coming tonight?

Abso-fucking-lutely, you replied, returning your eyes to the mirror as you raked mascara through your lashes.

The moment you hopped out of Chungha’s car and into the chaos that was the old vacant lot, you smiled for the first time in days. You strutted out in your leather boots, earning more than a few whistles and ignoring them all.

You were dressed in all black. Maybe you wanted to match Mark’s car, maybe not. If anyone asked, you would deny and swear it was all a coincidence.

Mark Lee wasn’t thinking about you; you sure as hell weren’t going to waste any more time on him.

Jeno approached you with a cigarette hanging from his lips, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Hey, pretty,” he flirted under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. He never gave up. “Hi, Jeno.”

He scanned you up and down, undressing you with his eyes. “You are wasted on Mark,” he taunted in a low growl.

The brief mention of Mark’s name made you clench with longing. Fuck that. “Aren’t you friends?” you questioned, shooting him a look.

“We are. That’s why I can say shit like that.”

You bobbed your head, patience wearing thin.

Jeno reached for your hand, slowly leading you along toward his blood red car, and whispered, “All’s fair in love and war, princess. That’s the only rule around here.”

Your eyes darted past Jeno as a car revved loudly, pulling into the lot. The fact you recognized the sound of Mark’s car before even seeing it made your cheeks flush with heat. And annoyance.

Love and war, huh?

“Jeno,” you started, returning your attention to him. “Do me a favor and hold that thought.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You marched away from Jeno, your gaze on Mark as he got out of his car and greeted those around him. God, he had no business being that handsome. You thought about the little smirk on his lips when you’d kissed your way down his happy trail.

Mark met your eyes and rooted in place, looking like the wind was knocked out of him. Goddamn. Those black pants looked painted on. He smiled bashfully and scratched the back of his neck. An image of you bowing off his bed as you cried out in pleasure with his hand between your thighs had just popped into his head.

Sex complicated everything. As always.

You stopped. It had been your body’s natural reflex to head for the passenger seat of Mark’s car, where you rightfully belonged, but then your brain remembered just how mad he made you.

Mark narrowed his eyes, studying you. Like he could see right through you.

A tiny smile tugged at your lips and you sauntered back to Jeno, who was sporting the smuggest grin as he blew out another column of smoke and held out his arm to you. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow and made sure to send Mark a vengeful scowl as Jeno escorted you over to his car.

Mark bristled. Watching you get in that red car made his skin crawl.

Fine. You wanted to play? Mark would play with you.

Jeno was two cars behind Mark at the starting line. You held your breath as the countdown started and braced your hands and feet when he accelerated.

It wasn’t like riding with Mark, you quickly realized. Jeno drove jarringly fast and erratic, where Mark was swift but smooth. The sharp turns made your seatbelt dig into your neck and jostled you in place. You felt borderline nauseous and dizzy, and as the miles wound down, you closed your eyes, waiting for it to end.

Riding with Mark was a high. This was a bad trip.

“Second place,” Jeno said as you both got out of the car, back in the lot.

You wobbled a bit, tempted to kiss the steady ground beneath your feet, and told him, “Sorry I wasn’t much of a good luck charm.”

“Not for me,” Jeno quipped, looking past you.

You followed his gaze and watched Mark’s car pull up slowly, coming alongside you. The passenger window rolled down and Mark called, “Get in the car.”

Bending down to look inside, you shot him a glare and snapped, “Or what?”

“Baby,” Mark said, something dangerous in his voice. “Get in the car.”

You weren’t keen on being bossed, but your body was already moving before you could stop it. Sliding into the familiar car, Jeno waved at you with an amused laugh and you waved back as Mark rolled up the tinted window, hiding you from view.

He drove onto the highway, riding on the high of yet another victory. Neither of you spoke. Your eyes were on the city lights. You truly marveled Busan at night and how she came alive in the darkness.

A few times, you parted your lips, wanting to cut the tension, but no words would come. You didn’t know where you stood with Mark. A few days ago, you were in his bed, kissing him like you’d never kissed anyone before. Those rough hands had touched every part of you, stitching you back together with a gentleness that surprised you.

You’d been in relationships before. Many, to be exact. But not like this. This was different and it was killing you trying to figure out what it was that set Mark apart. The only conclusion you reached was that you felt this way because you would leave eventually. It took away any stakes. You weren’t gambling your heart, because you knew how it was going to end.

It wasn’t that Mark was special. No, that couldn’t be it. It was purely your circumstances. Mark was just another boy.

That’s not true, your heart said. You slowly turned, looking at Mark. The sight of him sent the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. Just like when someone mentioned his name, you got giddy, thinking, That’s my boy.

Was he yours?

Mark coasted to a stop on a dead end street. The trees were tall and thick, blocking out the moon and the stars. Hitting the parking break, Mark unbuckled his seatbelt and you mirrored him.

“I got your note,” he said, breaking the silence at last.

You smarted, “I’m guessing you didn’t appreciate the humor.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I told you, I needed a shower.”

Mark arched a brow. “Did I make you feel dirty?”

You smirked a little and whispered, “No more than I asked for.”

“Then cut the bullshit and tell me what I did wrong,” Mark said irritably.

“You did nothing wrong, Mark,” you huffed, reaching for him and clambering into his arms.

Mark clasped your waist and pushed his seat back, giving you more room to straddle his hips. He let you kiss him, settling his hands on your thighs, and smirked against your mouth.

He saw right through your little stunt with Jeno. You still wanted him. Almost as badly as he wanted you.

“Fuck,” you groaned, the kisses building harder and rougher. The windows started to fog over. There was only one way to break the tension; tension created from all these unspoken feelings you and Mark shared.

The car rocked softly from side to side. Your fingers were carded in Mark’s hair, his face between your breasts, sucking a bruise on your collarbone. You grinded into him and Mark bucked into you. You loved that he made no moves to take off your pants. Or his.

“You’re gonna make me come, baby,” Mark sighed into your mouth, sinking his fingers into your ass, steering your movements. His cock was painfully hard in his jeans, but the pressure and warmth of you stroking against it was enough to push him toward the edge.

You took his jaw in your hand and nibbled at his lips, whispering, “Come.”

Mark thrust up to meet you, seeking more friction, and spilled over, grunting and whining through his release, thighs shaking beneath you. You kept riding him through it, arching your hips. Mark hissed with sensitivity, but didn’t stop you.

That misty, fucked out look in his eyes was going to be the end of you. You lost yourself in them again.

When Mark snuck a hand between your legs, unbuttoning and unzipping your pants to bring his fingers to your swollen clit, you sucked in a breath and dug your nails into the seat, moaning in his ear.

“Don’t scratch the car,” Mark teased, scraping his teeth down your neck. “Scratch me all you want.”

You choked out his name, two of his fingers prodding into your wet hole while his thumb pressed and rolled your clit. You were already close from grinding on him that the hooking of his digits on your sweet spot and the pressure on your clit finished you. Tipping your head back, your face tensed with release and a mangled cry forced its way from your throat.

Mark grinned and grabbed your thighs, rocking into you a little, getting the last of those aftershocks out of you. Fuck, you were so beautiful when you came. He brushed his hands up and down your body, talking you back down from the high.

Panting loudly, you collapsed into him, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. You smiled as Mark coiled his arms around you and squeaked in surprise when he made the seat recline back. You lay there on top of him, waiting for your heart to settle back to normal.

Mark didn’t care that there was a wet mess in his pants. He loved your weight on his body too much. Eventually, he reached for your face, tilting your head so he could steal a kiss that shattered what was left of the walls around your heart.

You talked for a little while, making plans, catching up on the past week. Both of you apologized for the way things were left last Sunday. You for running away without a goodbye and him for not calling you to ask why.

Mark held your hand as he walked you to your front door, kissing you chastely in case your father was spying out the window.

When Mark started to leave, you squeezed his hand and tugged him back, wanting one more kiss before reluctantly going inside. Mark held you flush against him and kissed you hotly until you had your fill.

The next morning, your alarm woke you. It was unheard of for you to intentionally wake up at a reasonable hour on a Saturday of all days, but you had big plans. You packed a bag and told your dad you were having a sleepover at Chungha’s.

Which was, of course, a lie.

You did go to Chungha’s house though. She gladly agreed to cover for you.

At noon sharp, Mark arrived to get you. You hugged Chungha, thanking her again for participating in your little fib, and jogged out with your bag over your shoulder.

“What is this?” you exclaimed.

Mark didn’t come in his familiar car, but a goofy looking truck. Like a work van and an SUV had a lanky baby. “It’s a pop-up camper,” he told you with glee, holding out his hands toward it dramatically.

You skipped over to him, only content when you were in his arms. “Is this another one of your fixer-uppers?”

“Nah. I borrowed this bad boy from a friend.”

You pressed a cute kiss to his lips and said, “Let’s hit the road!”

Mark took the bag from your shoulder and added it with his in the back. He fired up the engine and pulled away, both of you waving to Chungha who had come out on her front porch to see the weird behemoth vehicle at the end of her drive.

You had the window down and propped your feet on the dashboard, feeling like a teenager again on a long road trip. The wind whipped through your hair and Mark turned the radio up, the two of you singing along dramatically to the latest hits.

“Chip me,” Mark said for the hundredth time. He had packed a big bag of snacks to keep you both fed on the drive. You placed a chip in his mouth as he drove and then ate another yourself. He made one stop at a rest area to use the bathroom and you eagerly checked yourself in the mirror to make sure you still looked cute despite your windblown hair.

Back on the road, Mark drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

“Now, will you tell me where we’re going?” you asked for the hundredth time.

He was being very mum about the whole thing. “Nope,” Mark retorted.

You feigned a groan. “I hate surprises.”

Mark snickered and said, “Trust me. You’ll love this one.”

He drove into the hills until pavement turned to gravel. Until the trees blocked out any sign of the city below. Until you felt like only you and Mark existed in the world anymore.

You sighed. He was right. You loved it.

Rocks crunched under the tires as Mark parked in a small clearing. There was a firepit and a square wood building nestled under the trees you assumed had bathrooms and showers. A big plus for any wilderness excursion.

You jumped out of the car and jogged around to Mark’s side, watching him with delight and amusement as he fiddled with the buttons to get the camper to pop up. Even arguing with said buttons when they didn’t do what he wanted.

Eventually, the camper you would be calling home for the night was popped into position. “Okay, I had my doubts at first,” you said, climbing inside and laying on your stomach atop the mattress. “But this is actually kinda cool.”

Mark stood in the opening, bracing his hands on the edge, leaning in closer and closer until he was within reach of stealing a kiss. “You doubted me?” Mark exclaimed, dramatic. “I’m hurt. I’m devastated. I’m…”

You took his cheeks between your hands and smashed a big kiss on his lips.

“I’m better,” Mark quipped, scrunching his nose before asking for another kiss.

Together, you spent the afternoon talking and kissing. Sometimes you made out till you were breathless before coming back to your senses and having a conversation like nothing happened. At most, Mark played with your boobs or gave your ass a squeeze, but he never tried anything else.

Not until you gave him permission.

“How did you find this spot?”

Mark replied, “I come up here a couple times a year. Just to sit and think.”

You quirked a brow. “Alone?”

Mark nodded. “I’ve never brought anyone with me before, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You fought a smile harder than ever before and said quietly, “I’m honored.”

Mark hid his face, not wanting you to see the adorable grin he was sporting.

You watched him fondly as Mark hunched over the fire pit, stoking the flames to life as the evening air began to chill. He surprised you by rifling in the camper and bringing out metal sticks, which you used to toast hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire until your bellies were full.

Mark liked that your kisses now tasted of marshmallows and melted chocolate.

“The college thing - what are you studying to be?” Mark asked as he stoked the flames, adding more wood to the pile.

You sat with your hands to the fire, warming them. “Promise you won’t laugh,” you said, nerves rushing up your chest.

“I promise. Tell me.”

Tugging your sleeves down over your hands, you smiled as Mark came over and sat down beside you, his side pressed against yours. “My degree is in biochemistry. I want…,” you hesitated, ever reminded that you had never told anyone about your ambitions. They were personal. Meaningful, but only to you. “I want to go into cancer research.”

Mark gaped, turning and looking at you with wide eyes. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” His reaction made you bashful, lowering your head because you couldn’t handle how he was looking at you.

Damn, Mark was thinking. He already knew you were well out of his league, but this confirmed it. “I think it’s cool that you found something you’re passionate about. Did you always know you wanted to study biochem?” he asked, curious.

The tears crept up on you, but you were an expert at holding them back. You’d been grieving your mother for so long, you’d learned to suffer in silence. “No. It was my mom. She died three years ago. Ovarian cancer.”

Mark’s heart sank. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

You thanked him, comforted when he wrapped an arm around you and squeezed. It was a kind gesture and sorely needed. “I couldn’t do anything to help her, but maybe one day, I could help stop someone else from losing their mom,” you said somberly. It was your greatest dream, sparing someone from your pain.

Mark cupped your cheek and you didn’t notice you were crying until he caught an escaping tear on his thumb. “You can do it. You can kick cancer’s ass.”

You snorted, but the humor was welcome.

“Your mom would be proud of you,” Mark said, whispering your name sweetly.

Holding your breath, fighting the tears, you almost crumpled at his feet. Those were the words you always wanted to hear, wondering what you would have to do to ever hear your father utter them. Instead, Mark had given you that. It was a gift you would never be able to repay.

“I’ve never told anyone this.” You looked to Mark, eyes glistening with pain and hope.

Mark tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “You keep a lot of things to yourself. Don’t you, baby?”

You nodded.

Mark knew in that moment he would do anything to protect you. He had never felt that urge so strongly for anyone before. He wanted to be everything you needed. Everything you could ever want.

“You can share the hurt with me, you know,” Mark continued, kissing your temple. “I want to be that for you.”

You met his eyes, searching. Part of you was beginning to accept that you’d stumbled into something precious with Mark. Something beautiful and rare. Once in a lifetime. “Will you let me be that for you?” you asked softly.

Mark shifted a little. He unwound his arm from your shoulders, rubbing his hands together pensively. He exhaled, one deep breath after another, and finally said, “My dad is a drunk. My mom is a martyr. I haven’t seen either of them in years, but I send them money every month to keep them afloat.”

You listened intently.

“I have an older brother. He dipped outta here to have his own life,” Mark said with obvious resentment. “We don’t speak at all.”

“How long will you be paying your father’s debts?” you asked carefully.

“Till one of us dies, I guess,” Mark hissed through his teeth.

You bristled at the thought. Your brain was cycling through options, trying to figure out a way to get Mark out of this hell. “What if you left? Started over somewhere else?”

Mark simpered. He appreciated the thought. “I can’t leave. This is my home. My friends are here. I’ve built a life for myself that I love. Sure, I’ll be paying for my parents forever and I’ll probably never be able to own a house with a roof that doesn’t leak, but that’s okay. I don’t need much to be happy. Just a fast car and a pretty girl.”

You wilted a little, slipping into his arms and burying your head under his chin. Mark hugged you back tightly, watching the flames dance and convincing himself that the burning in his eyes was from the smoke and not his emotions.

The heavy conversation was over. For now. You and Mark had a newfound understanding of each other.

As the air grew colder, Mark steered you into the camper and draped a blanket over you before crawling in beside you. Together, you watched the sunset from the back.

You were on your stomach, your head propped in your hands, your ankles crossed in the air. “I think I’m falling in love with Busan,” you sighed wistfully after a while, hardly believing those goddamn forbidden words spilled out of your mouth so easily.

You blamed the views. You blamed the sunsets. You blamed the taste of the sea in every breath you took.

But most of all, you blamed Mark.

Mark nudged your shoulder and whispered, “Anything else you’re falling for?”

Heat rushed into your cheeks. You turned to him. Your face was serious, cracking under the weight of your feelings. Your eyes pierced right through him. You wanted to tell him that yes, you were falling in love with him too, but those words were far more forbidden than any profession of love for Busan.

Instead, you crashed your lips on his, hoping that would satisfy his question, because you weren’t ready to say how you felt. You were too fragile and it would break you.

Mark smiled knowingly against your mouth and kissed you back. Even though he’d been kissing you all day, every kiss and every touch made his heart race with that same rush he felt the first time you got in his car.

There was something different about you. Mark didn’t want to overanalyze, but he couldn’t help it. Once upon a time, Mark believed there was someone out there for everyone - even someone as messed up as him - but life had broken that hope out of him. You were changing his mind and his heart. You were making Mark want more for himself.

Maybe there was someone out there capable of loving him. Maybe he’d found her and she was in his arms, kissing him with abandon.

You pawed at Mark, pushing at his shoulders until he rolled to his back and you climbed on top of him, your breasts flush against his chest. Mark reached down to grab handfuls of your ass before locking his arms around your waist, trapping you to him.

You broke from the kiss and stroked your finger over his lips affectionately, asking, “Did you bring condoms?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, trying to keep up with the rush of your kisses. There was an adorable crimson across his cheeks. “Is that okay? I mean, I wasn’t expecting us to have sex or anything if you don’t want to. I just wanted to have them on hand in case… you know, we were in the mood. Or something.”

You giggled at his nerves. “Mark,” you said sternly, cutting his rambling short. “This has been the most romantic date of my life. Of course, I wanna have sex with you.”

Mark relaxed, but his pupils turned into endless pools of arousal.

Stealing a quick kiss, hoping to settle him down, you flirted, “If you want me.”

“I’ve wanted you since day one, baby,” Mark purred, running his fingers up and down your back.

You smiled. That makes two of us. The wind swept into your hair as you kissed him again, this time a little slower, a little deeper. A taste of things to come.

Sunset splashed the last of its colors over the horizon, growing darker with every passing second. Night still came swiftly, though winter was almost over. And even with the back doors of the camper open, you couldn’t get chilled with the heat kindling between your bodies.

It was exciting; the thought of having sex with Mark out in the open. The camper provided plenty of privacy, of course, but when neither you or Mark suggested closing the back door, you grinned with mischief.

Mark thrust his hips up into yours, rubbing his clothed cock against you. He moaned at the weight of you on top of him and the catch in your breath as you kissed him. Neither of you were in much hurry, knowing you had all night to play.

Sitting up, bracing your hands on his abs, you asked, “Is there any chance someone will walk in on us?”

Mark shook his head. “I rented this spot,” he said, his voice low and husky. “It’s all ours.”

“Good.” With that, you stripped out of your shirt and unclasped your bra.

Mark’s hands flew to your breasts, squeezing them together, kneading them in his palms. It had only been a week, but fuck, Mark missed your beautiful body.

Meanwhile, you tugged off his shirt and teased your fingers over his nipples, much like he was toying with yours, and scraped your nails down his stomach, biting your lip at how rapidly he was breathing.

You bent down to kiss him, breaking away just as he started to slip you his tongue, and dragged your lips down his neck, nibbling beneath his ear and sucking at the base of his throat. You shimmied your hips, grinding on the bulge in his jeans, and kept kissing your way down his body, tonguing between his abs and through his happy trail.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned, eyes fluttering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You chuckled, unfastening his pants and yanking them down his legs. Seeing his cock standing at attention, knowing he was hard and aching for you, made your mouth water and you rewarded his need by sealing your lips around his tip.

Mark whined your name, gathering your hair messily in his hand. He kept lifting his head and dropping it back to the mattress with a thud, because watching you slowly bob up and down with your pretty lips around his dick was going to ruin him in record time.

There was a lewd squelch when he pushed into the back of your throat, followed by Mark moaning, which caused a familiar tightening between your legs. You choked on him again and again, until tears pricked in your eyes. It was worth it to hear those sounds he made.

When you picked up the pace, Mark grit his teeth and pried you away. “Stop. Stop. Stop,” he chanted, breathless. “I don’t wanna come yet.”

You sat up, trembling with lust, because goddamn, had you ever craved someone this badly? Chuckling at the weakness in his voice, you smoothed your hand up his stomach and chest, and asked, “Where are the condoms?”

Mark sat up and crawled over to the backpack he’d brought. As he rifled through it, you took the opportunity to strip out of your pants and given the ache he’d caused between your legs, you traveled a hand down between your folds and rolled your clit with your fingertips.

Imagine Mark’s surprise when he turned around, condom packet in hand, and saw you touching yourself. For a second or two, he just gawked, swallowing the lump in his throat. As if his cock could get any harder after you just choked on it. “Fuck,” he said, lingering on the word with the most guttural growl you’d ever heard.

You brought your slick fingers to his lips and Mark readily sucked them into his mouth, laving the digits with his tongue, tasting every drop. The moment he had, you took the condom from his hand and steered him by the shoulders to lay on his back again.

Mark thought he was going to burst. Especially with you taking charge. You had barely spoken, but he was willing to do anything you wanted with a mere touch of your fingers.

You straddled his thighs while you opened the packet and rolled the condom down his cock. Mark hummed as you did so, clenching every muscle in his body to keep from bucking into your hand. He wanted to be inside you so bad, but he didn’t want to beg.

Though you would have loved if he did.

You grabbed his hands and guided them to your waist, and you lifted up, holding onto his arms for balance and slowly sinking down on his cock. A little whine escaped you. Then a moan once he pressed deeper into your core, stretching you open to fit until you gloved around his length.

Mark’s jaw was unhinged. He let out the breath he’d been holding once he was sheathed inside you, groaning at the scalding heat of you around him. He relaxed his grip on your waist, realizing his fingers were sinking in to the point of bruising your soft skin.

“Mark,” you sighed, eyes closed. You rocked your hips tentatively, sucking in a breath as his cock pushed against your walls.

“You feel so fucking good,” Mark hissed, moaning your name. “Fuck.” He roamed his hands over you, palming your breasts and you grabbed at his hands, lacing your fingers through his and starting to bounce on his hard cock.

You opened your eyes and peered down at him. You bit your lip to fight a smile, because Mark was staring up at you in worship while you rode his dick, like no woman before you and no woman after would ever feel as good as you.

Mark grunted when your bodies collided. His breaths were loud and labored. Every other word out of his mouth was, “Fuck,” and you loved how it sounded on his lips. You couldn’t resist propping yourself over him and taking his bottom lip between your teeth. And Mark couldn’t resist kissing you, ravenous.

“I’m gonna come. Mark…,” you whimpered, taking pleasure from his body until your thighs burned with the effort. You were losing yourself in him, in how he made you feel. He was so deep and hard in the pit of your stomach, stroking you just right to ecstasy.

Mark growled and set his fingers into the flesh of your hips. He stared up at you, unblinking, and rasped, “Come. Come all over that dick. Like you did on my fingers and my face. I wanna feel that pussy come.”

You sucked in a breath and your eyes rolled back as release crashed into you, taking you higher and higher until your body shuddered out of your control. You could feel Mark rutting his cock into you, swearing and groaning as you tightened and gushed around his cock. “Fuck,” you cried out, one last tremor ripping through you.

“That’s my good girl,” Mark whispered, lifting his hips a little to sink back and forth in your slick cunt, pulsing with orgasm. “Atta girl.”

“Holy shit,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, pulling the strands out of your face. You panted for breath and shivered as the sweat on your skin cooled. Looking down at Mark, you blinked to clear the daze in your eyes and moaned softly at his stiff cock languidly pumping inside you. “Are you close?”

Mark nodded.

You reached behind to grab his thighs, grinding yourself onto him, your movements sounding wetter than before. “How do you want it?”

“Kiss me.”

You smiled and obeyed without a second thought, kissing him intimately, teasing your tongue into his mouth.

Mark slowly slipped his arms around you, tightening until you were flush against him, and raised his hips, shoving his cock into you deep. His breaths were hot on your throat. You let out a moan and then another as he sped up, his pace growing, his thrusts hard and fast.

“Mark,” you chanted his name like a mantra, mouth open, eyes closed. Mark’s hand was heavy on the nape of your neck, keeping you in place, making you take his cock. You gripped the mattress on opposite sides of his shoulders, moaning until your voice broke.

A howl of your name followed an endless string of curses and Mark gave one final thrust into the vice of your cunt, driving in balls deep and finishing into the condom. You instinctively clenched on him, milking his release, watching the bliss take over his face.

Smirking down at him, coaxing him through his orgasm with little nothings like he had yours, you nibbled at his parted lips, kissing the corner of his mouth with affection and rocking your hips gently.

Mark heaved a breath, going limp underneath you. He blinked and finally met your eyes again, chuckling when he realized how hard he came. “Was I too rough?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” you assured him. “You were perfect.” You brushed some of the damp hair from his brow with your fingertips.

Relieved, Mark lifted his head to kiss your swollen lips. He made a low sound when you clambered off of him, his soft cock slipping from your folds, and got up to dispose of the condom.

“That was amazing,” Mark said when he returned to you, covering your naked body in the blanket.

“Yeah,” was all you could say. It was amazing. It was way better than you imagined it would be.

And it reinforced that you were completely and utterly fucked.

Mark rolled toward you and tightened his arm around your waist, burying his face in your neck and gently nibbling beneath your ear. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to rile you up again.

“I can’t believe I found you,” he whispered into your skin.

You stared straight ahead, spacing out. Tears were gathering in your eyes.

Fuck, you thought, scared to death. I love him.

You were in love with Mark and there was no use in fighting it, no matter how badly you didn’t want to be that girl who fell in love so easily. You protected your heart with an iron fist, but you let Mark waltz right in and make himself comfortable.

Mark slipped his fingers over your cheek and made you look at him. He searched your face and his eyes narrowed, trying to read what was going through your mind and asking cutely, “Where did you go, baby?”

You forced a smile for his sake. “You’re pussy drunk right now,” you quipped, resorting to humor to hide how hard you were dismantling in his arms.

Mark cocked his head and fixed you with a look. He was a little stern when he said, “That doesn’t mean how I feel about you isn’t real.”

You smiled and this time it was genuine. Your smile deepened when he leaned in and met his lips to yours tenderly. As the kisses grew, you spread your legs, inviting him to take you again. And again and again, until there was nothing left of you.

Mark crushed you beneath his weight, snapping his hips between your thighs, driving into your sweet spot. His grip on your hair was brutal, but so were your fingernails in his back. You cried out. You screamed his name until you were hoarse. He filled you with his cock and made you come until you were spent.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, eyes pressed closed. You were shaking. He was breaking you, body and soul.

Mark tightened his fist in your hair and bit down on your shoulder. He’d never fucked someone so hard, but he knew you could take it. He needed you to take him. All of him. Everything he had to give.

“I’m not stopping till you come,” Mark said between thrusts, burying himself inside you until he didn’t know where you ended and he began.

You locked your arms and legs around him, and you cried his name. I love you. I love you, you thought, but bit your tongue. You dared not say it. Once you did, you could never take it back.

Release saved you from letting those words escape. You arched into him, lips parted as the tears slipped from your eyes. Mark let out the deepest moan, feeling you unravel around him.

You had never been drowned in passion before, but it was a fucking beautiful way to die.

In the morning, you could barely move. Mark fared no better. He was snoring like a freight train, undoubtedly lost in the best sleep of his life. You hid a giggle at his expense and nestled deeper into his arms, drifting off again.

It was late in the afternoon when Mark brought you to Chungha’s house. She came out with a shirtless Jaemin in tow to check out the pop-up camper, which made the two of them decide they would like to do something similar on their anniversary. The four of you talked in Chungha’s front yard and only dispersed when the sun began to set and Chungha needed to drive you home.

So began a long week of waiting to see Mark again. Keeping yourself occupied in the meantime, you tried thinking of a plan that would get him out from under his family’s debt. What if you brought him along back home? He could have a fresh start there. Nothing hanging over his head. Maybe your dad would help find him a decent job while you were in grad school. The two of you could possibly share an apartment or something.

You scribbled on the notebook, crossing out ideas and circling others. Every so often, you would have a crisis of the heart, ripping out the pages and tossing them in the bin before fishing them out after you remembered how much love you had for Mark.

Did it still scare you? Yes. But you’d started to accept that the greatest loves were unnerving. There was so much to lose, but so much to gain.

You immediately noticed something was wrong with Chungha when she picked you up on Friday night. At first you pried, but she was tight-lipped. You asked if everything was alright with Jaemin and she assured you all was well. Not wanting to be too nosy, you let it go, hoping she would talk to you when she was ready.

Chungha kept glancing over at you. She was running out of time to gather enough courage.

Parking in the lot, brimming with people and cars, you hopped out excitedly, though you knew Mark would be fashionably late as always. Opting to go chat with Haechan as you usually did, Chungha called your name. You whipped around and she took your hand in hers, speaking in hushed tones, “Listen, I need to tell you something. There’s something you need to know.”

“Sure,” you replied, totally unsuspecting. “What’s up?”

“I was talking to Jaemin last night. I swear, pussy makes him bear his soul to me,” she said. The attempt at humor was weak, because her voice was shaking. “I know all his secrets at this point and he let slip that the boys have a bet going around.”

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach, never to be found again. “About me?”

She nodded. “Yeah, about you. They set it up the first night you came… betting on who can sleep with you first.”

You could only imagine what the expression on your face looked like at that moment. You fought back the sudden urge to either punch the nearest boy - the boys you thought were your friends - or cry your eyes out. Stiffening, you spoke through clenched jaws, “Who’s the favorite to win?”

Chungha sighed your name.

“I’m curious. It’s not like my heart is on the line or anything.”

If only she knew that the floor had been ripped out beneath your feet. You were falling and drowning with not a goddamn soul coming to save you. You were thinking of all the things you told that stupid boy. All the things you did. How you gave him the keys to your heart and trusted him to protect it.

“Mark,” she finally said.

You weren’t surprised. It was a given. Jeno was undoubtedly the other option, considering his persistent advances. “That’s a shame,” you sighed, feigning indifference. “Not much of a payout.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes stung with the memories. They turned to ashes in your mouth. “We had sex last weekend, obviously. I hope you bet on him.”

Chungha recoiled like she’d been slapped and her tone shifted to anger. “I didn’t bet. Why the hell would I do that? I just found out about it last night!”

You brushed her hand from your arm and started to walk away. “I don’t know, Chungha. Did they have a wager going around on your body?”

Chungha followed you worriedly. “No.”

You shook your head and whispered, mostly to yourself, “I’m the outsider. I guess, I always will be.”

How could you be so goddamn stupid? With the benefit of hindsight, all the signs were there.

Chungha got ahead of you, barring herself in your path and taking your arms in her hands. “That’s not true. Everyone really likes you. You’re fitting in around here.”

You spat, “Not enough to cancel the bet though. Right?”

Chungha looked pained. Her eyes were welling up. Someone she considered a friend was hurt and there was nothing she could do to fix it. Matter of fact, she felt personally responsible for the whole thing happening in the first place.

She introduced you to the guys. To Mark.

“I wish I had found out sooner. I could have stopped you from…,” Chungha trailed. She didn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

Every inch of you tensed. You were back in that camper, sleeping in Mark’s arms, his fingers playing with your hair. You gave him everything; you had nothing left. There was nothing he didn’t know about you. You could still hear the crickets. You could still feel the wind on your hot skin. You could still taste Mark’s kisses on your tongue.

And the worst part was you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Mark.

Fuck. You had never known a pain like this. Not since you buried your mother.

You finished, “From having sex with Mark? Yeah, too late. But it’s okay. The sex was great. Totally memorable.”

Chungha crooned your name. “You’re hurt. It’s okay to be hurt.”

No, it wasn’t. There was no way in hell you could accept someone’s pity, regardless of how much you needed it. You laughed, but it was empty. Like your chest. “I’m not hurt. I would never give a fuckboy like Mark the power to hurt me.”

Chungha sniffed back tears. “I’m so sorry.”

You took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”

She nodded.

You started walking. Where you were going, you didn’t really know, but you sure as hell couldn’t stay on that lot. Home was an entire continent away. You certainly didn’t want to see your father either. He was the one that brought you here. None of this would have happened if you had never left home.

“Fuck.” You were so goddamn sick of being punished for love. You loved your mother more than anyone in the world and you were taken away from the home you shared with her. You loved Mark with what was left of your heart and he crushed it the moment you handed it over.

Folding your arms tightly across your chest, you kept your head down and stared at your feet, one step in front of the other. You were dissociating a little. Your heart couldn’t handle this much torment so it chose not to.

Your mind was blank and eventually, the tears dried on your cheeks. Eventually, you breathed heavier from the sheer distance you’d walked. Eventually, you gave up on trying to reason with yourself.

The sound of tires on gravel made the hairs on your neck stand up. Adrenaline ripped its way up your spine, because you knew who it was.

Mark’s car slowed alongside you and he rolled down the window, calling your name. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

You ignored him. Just like you ignored the phone that had been vibrating constantly in your back pocket. One foot in front of the other, you told yourself.

Mark said your name impatiently this time and got the same result. So, he put the car in park and jumped out. Jogging over to you, Mark grabbed your arm to stop you and asked, “What the hell are you doing out here? Do you even know where you’re going?”

The moment you heard his car, you began rehearsing what you would say to him and yet, the entire speech you prepared disintegrated the moment you opened your mouth. Anger took hold of your reins and demanded you snap, “How much did you bet?”

The color drained from Mark’s face. “What?”

You gave him a smile full of venom and mocked, “You’re a smart boy, Mark. Don’t play dumb now. How much was I worth to you? What magic number did you set on my body?”

Mark shook his head and reached for your waist, wanting to hold you. “That doesn’t matter.”

You stepped back, batting his hands away. “Like hell it does. How much did you win? I may want my cut.”

“I called the bet off. I told everyone to take their money back,” Mark told you frantically.

You believed him, but that didn’t matter. He did it after you slept with him, which meant he did it out of a guilty conscience only after he won his prize.

“Why? You won. You should collect. Although I heard you were the heavy favorite. I doubt you made a lot of money on me.”

Mark was in a panic. At some point in his relationship with you, he forgot about the stupid bet. And no one reminded him. It didn’t hit him until that night, when he was dozing off with his head on your naked chest.

“I didn’t make any. I called it off,” he said, trembling. The girl he loved was looking at him with nothing short of hatred and Mark couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t accept that he’d fucked up the most beautiful thing in his life. It was what he did best, but he’d tried for you to be better. He’d tried so hard.

“Why?” you pressed. As if there was any reason that would make you feel better.

“Because it wasn’t right. It was stupid. It was…”

“Foul.”

“Yeah.”

You bristled. Animosity and hurt bubbled in your throat until you felt capable of breathing fire. “So,” you started, voice breaking as emotion got the better of you. “You did all of this just to fuck me?”

“No,” Mark said, but he knew you would never believe him.

You wiped your tears roughly with a fist and snapped, “The joke is on you. I would have fucked you on the first night. You’re the one that did all the extra shit.”

There was obvious pleading in Mark’s voice. “Because I wanted to get to know you.”

You scoffed. “Well, now you know what I taste like. We good?”

“I fucked up.”

“You fucked up. Got it. Will you get out of my way now?”

“No, I…,” Mark hesitated, reaching for you again. “I want to know where we stand.”

You folded your arms, making yourself totally uninviting. “Right now you’re standing in my way and I would like for you to move.”

Mark tried to draw you toward him and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

You swatted his hands away again and groaned. “For the love of… Mark, get out of my way.”

“No,” he shot back. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t!”

You laughed. “You never had me in the first place.”

“Yes, I did. You’re mine.”

“I’m not and I never will be.”

Mark cursed loudly and tipped his head back, heaving a breath. “That’s it then?” he asked, throwing up his arms. “You’re done with me over this? After everything we said and did?”

You bristled. You did not want to be reminded of that. How much of yourself you shared with him. It was the biggest regret of your life now. “I’m done with you, because I got what I wanted from you. That’s why I’m not mad about the whole dumb bet thing. Maybe if the sex had been horrible I’d be pissed off, but…”

“You’re lying and I deserve it,” Mark countered, tempted to drop to his knees at your feet. “I deserve whatever punishment you wanna give me, but you don’t you dare walk away.”

“The irony,” you sneered. You wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt you. “You’re the one refusing to let go.”

Mark blocked you again and this time he boldly took your face in his hands, tilting you up to meet his eyes. “I want you and you want me.”

Something inside you had enough and finally snapped.

“I wanna go home,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, bracing your hands on his chest and shoving him away from you. You couldn’t hold yourself together anymore. Not when he kept poking and prodding at your carefully made armor. “The second I can get away from here, I’m going home. I’ll leave this place and I’ll leave you!”

Mark sighed and his shoulders dropped.

You wiped the flood of tears racing down your cheeks and rasped, “I never wanted to be here in the first place. I didn’t want to meet you. I don’t want to have feelings for you.”

Mark blinked at that. He opened his mouth to tell you he loved you, that he would do anything to make you stay, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You shuddered with rage and shame in a brutal, painful combination and shouted, “Don’t you understand that you’ve ruined everything? You ruined me! You had me second guessing everything I want and for what - a fucking bet?”

Mark whispered your name. His eyes shone with tears.

“I told you about my mother,” you sobbed, frantically drying your tears with your sleeves. They were cruel evidence of how much you cared. How badly he hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said. Mark didn’t know what else to do. Nothing was enough to fix the damage he’d done.

“God, shut up,” you huffed, defeat washing over you. “Don’t be sorry. Just… please, get out of my way.”

Mark studied you for a long, pensive moment, weighing his options, and ultimately sidestepped out of your path.

You started marching forward the moment he did, brushing past him roughly as you folded your arms and looked down at your feet. One step in front of the other.

It didn’t surprise you that Mark got back in his car and started to follow you. He kept a short distance in your wake, making sure you were safe. He would never, no matter what you said, leave you out in the dark on your own.

After a few minutes, you stopped and the car braked behind you. You couldn’t breathe. You held your stomach, doubling over as sobs racked through your body. More than anything, you missed your mom. She was the attachment to home.

You so badly wanted her to hold you. She could make the pain go away.

Mark got out and approached you cautiously, but he knew the fight had left you. He gathered you in his arms, lifting you up.

“I trusted you,” you cried, letting him carry you over to the car. “You made me think that you loved me.”

Everything, every moment spent with him, was built on a lie.

Mark said nothing, buckling you into the passenger seat. He drove around until you fell asleep, exhausted from crying. I fell in love with you, he thought sadly, his cheeks stained with tears too. But you will never believe me now.

When you woke up, you were in your driveway. Mark had opened your door and was crouched beside you, whispering your name. You blinked to clear your vision and swallowed the painful lump in your throat, asking what happened.

Mark stood up and moved out of the way, revealing your father, who quickly helped you out of the car and started leading you into the house.

“You should take her home,” Mark called out to your dad, consumed with guilt and regret. “She’s not happy here.”

Your father didn’t respond, but you knew he heard and you watched Mark’s car speed off into the night before finally going inside.

The next day, you didn’t get out of bed. Or the day after that. Your dad brought food to you that he ordered, but you picked at it. You had no appetite. You just wanted to sleep forever. Or at least until the hollow ache in your chest was gone.

So, this is what it feels like, huh? To get your heart broken by a boy?

This shit sucks.

It felt even worse when you thought about just how much you’d loved him. How you’d even felt guilty for loving him.

You remembered how you’d looked up at him, holding his face in your hands as he rocked into you slowly, your eyes fluttering closed when he kissed you. It was reckless and all-consuming, and you’d never felt so alive.

After everything, you still missed him. You hid beneath the covers and tried to linger in how it had felt to be so small in his arms. So safe and loved.

But none of it was real. The whole time, he just wanted to take you for himself. Did he get a bonus for breaking you in the process?

Chungha came by. Your father let her in and she walked right into your room and crawled onto the bed, spooning you over the blankets.

You barely reacted, but you didn’t turn her away either.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I ripped all of the boys a new asshole?” Chungha joked.

“A little,” you muttered into your pillow.

She told you that all races had been canceled until further notice because of the rift between the boys. The fallout over the bet had resulted in a huge fight. Things were said. Objects were thrown.

Chungha added, “I’m also not giving Jaemin any sexy time for not telling me about it sooner.”

You made a noise. Something between a scoff and a laugh.

Chungha leaned her head against yours and rubbed your back comfortingly. Eventually, you hugged her and she squeezed you tightly, sending warmth through your chest that maybe - just maybe - you would be okay.

And you realized that through it all, you had actually made a friend in Chungha. A really good friend that you would miss terribly when you left.

Your next visitor caught you off guard.

Sitting on the sofa in some sweatpants and a hoodie, you whined in annoyance when the doorbell rang. You had fully intended to spend the day curled up in front of the television binging some shows and crushing a pint of cookie dough ice cream.

It was Friday and you had finally made it out of bed. Your pain wasn’t so acute now. The grieving stage was ending and you were reluctantly moving into recovery.

Opening the door, you immediately frowned. “What the hell do you want, Jeno?”

Jeno wasn’t sporting his usual asshole air of superiority for once. “Can I come in? I really wanna talk to you,” he said politely.

“No and no,” you replied, pursing your lips. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Jeno braced a hand on the door, keeping it from closing, and you scowled at him furiously. Did he have any idea what he’d done? What he had taken from you?

“If you wanna hate someone, hate me,” Jeno exclaimed, determined. “The bet was my idea. It was juvenile and wrong on so many levels and I regret it. I’m sorry.”

You snipped. “Fine. You’re sorry.”

“We hustle to survive. Everything is about scraping together money so we can survive another week. It’s not an excuse, but that shit finally caught up with us.”

You frowned with contempt.

“Mark had nothing to do with it,” Jeno pressed. He sounded almost desperate. “He called the whole thing off.”

“I know he did.”

Jeno matched your frustration and kicked it up a notch, chiding, “Then, doesn’t that count for something to you?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, relenting only for a moment.

Jeno sighed.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as if warding off a sudden chill and rubbed them in self soothing. “I don’t know how to feel anymore. I’ve spent every day missing home, counting down the minutes until I can go home, but when I was with him, I didn’t miss home anymore. And I hate that.”

“This is your home now.”

You flinched. That was heresy. “Fuck off,” you barked, trying once again to slam the door in his face.

Jeno stopped you again, though he made no moves to come inside. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he argued.

You let your hand fall from the door in defeat. After a pause, you asked, “Do you have any idea how this feels?”

“Yeah, I do.”

At first, you were resistant to that, but by the look on Jeno’s face, you actually believed him. “How did you get over it?”

“I left everything behind once too,” Jeno confessed with a heavy sigh. “I made friends here. I fell in love here. This became my home. It doesn’t mean I love my old home any less, but I know this is where I belong now.”

You hung your head. “You’re lucky.”

“So are you. Mark is in love with you.”

The mere mention of his name made you bristle with anger, but maybe irritation was better than hatred. You were recovering. “Mark doesn’t love me,” you said through grit teeth.

“He showed you his old cars.”

“What the hell does that matter?”

Jeno said with a growing smile, “He’s never shown them to anybody. Not even any of us. They’re his babies. That’s like him cutting open his chest and letting you see his heart.”

Don’t do that. Don’t give me hope. “You’re dramatic,” you droned with a roll of your eyes. But they were sparkling as they rolled.

Jeno nodded his head proudly. “Oh, absolutely. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

You leaned against the doorway, thinking. Hoping. Maybe wishing. After a moment to collect your thoughts, you asked, “Where is he?”

“Sulking somewhere. He feels like a steaming pile of shit. Just like me.” Jeno grimaced for effect.

“What did he say… when he ended the bet?” That was the question lingering in your brain. Chungha didn’t know what all went down, but you wanted to know.

“That he had forgotten about it. That he was too busy falling in love with you to remember. And that if any of us didn’t take our money back, he would fuck us up. He also threw his shoe at my head.”

You snorted.

Jeno slipped his hands into his pockets and paced away from you, looking like he was going to leave. He stopped at the stairs and turned back around, saying, “You taught us a valuable lesson, I think. We were careless and we got two people that we care about hurt.”

You blinked in surprise and looked at him curiously. “You care about me?”

Jeno shrugged, but his smile betrayed him as he replied sweetly, “We all do. We kinda fell in love with you too. We want you to stick around. Hell, Haechan likes you so much he won’t even speak to any of us until you accept our apologies.”

You chuckled and it was the first time you’d laughed in days.

Jeno turned serious and said your name. “I’m really sorry.”

Something inside you healed a little.

“I’m the bravest of the bunch so I’m here first. Plus the bet was my idea. I felt I should make amends first. Expect an apology every one to two business days until the circle of stupid guys runs out.”

“I forgive you,” you said sincerely, tears blurring your eyes.

“Thank you,” Jeno said, closing the distance and holding out his arms. You hugged him without hesitation and he asked, “Does this mean we’re friends?”

You pulled back, nodding. “Yes, but I think you owe me one.”

“I owe you plenty,” Jeno retorted.

The idea was already spinning around in your head. It would be killing two birds with one stone. “Tell everyone the race is back on for tonight and make sure all the boys are at the starting line.”

Jeno grinned. “You got it.”

When you returned to the familiar lot of roaring cars, you strutted in like you owned it. This place didn’t defeat you like you thought. From boy to boy you went, collecting apologies under Chungha’s threatening glare. Although it was hardly necessary.

Renjun to Jisung and everyone in between expressed genuine remorse for hurting you and you forgave them. The forgiveness was more for you than for them. You were ready to move on.

You were finally ready to let Busan be your new home.

The black car drove in last, as expected. You kept your back to it, talking to Haechan, but when you heard Mark’s voice, you made sure to turn around. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes. His long hair was messy. And a deep frown stayed on his handsome face.

He almost looked as broken as you felt.

Mark acknowledged no one cheerfully as he usually did. He was polite to those who had come to watch when they greeted him, but he had only vicious glares for his friends.

As he leaned back against his car, Mark’s eyes locked with yours and his entire expression changed. Shock? Hope? Relief? All of the above.

You were content to drag it out for a moment, staring back at him just as fiercely, before returning to your conversation with Haechan and ignoring the boy that had made butterflies start up in your stomach.

“Make him suffer,” Haechan said playfully, wiggling his brows. “He deserves it.”

You murmured, “I’ve forgiven him. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“You know, there’s some great colleges around here.”

“I’m already looking into it.”

Haechan grinned from ear to ear.

When the cars lined up, the race gearing up to begin, you sauntered up to Mark’s passenger side and cleared your throat, waiting expectantly.

Mark rushed over, opening the door for you and closing it once you slid inside.

You didn’t speak to him. You quite liked the tension inside his car. Mark constantly looked over at you; you could tell he was desperately trying to find the words to say.

Then, in a blink, the race began and the air knocked out of your lungs, making adrenaline rush through every inch of you like the most potent drug.

Mark drove like he always did - expert. Perfect. He was smoother than silk around the turns. He accelerated cleanly, shifting gears to speed up. The car was an extension of his body. She obeyed even the tiniest nudge of his fingers.

“Mark,” you finally spoke up.

“Yes?”

“I will forgive you... if you lose.”

He gawked, turning to you briefly in disbelief. “What?”

You repeated yourself firmly, “Lose the race.”

Mark shook his head vehemently and whined, “Do you have any idea how much I have riding on this?”

“A relationship with me,” you smarted.

Mark blinked in realization. And then, he took his foot off the gas pedal without another word.

You grinned in satisfaction, watching the other cars overtake him at lightning speed. Mark’s car trailed the pack, sticking to Yangyang’s bumper.

“You’re in last place now?” you asked coyly.

“Yes. I’m in dead last. Are you happy?”

“Actually, I am.”

Mark scoffed. “Pfft.”

You glanced around, piecing together the surroundings, and asked like you didn’t have a care in the world, “How much race is left?”

“A couple miles,” Mark answered, brows stitching. “Maybe more.”

“If you win, I’ll go home with you.”

Mark groaned loudly. “You little brat.”

You turned to him, full of mischief, and said, “Do we have a deal?”

Mark looked at you and a smile spread across his lips. “If I win, you have to believe me when I tell you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened a little. It seemed a fair enough request. You grabbed his face quickly and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “Impress me, Mark,” you taunted, settling deeper into the seat in preparation of what was to come.

Mark reached over and yanked your seatbelt to make sure it was taut, just as he had the night you met, and slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

The adrenaline, the excitement, you knew now that it had nothing to do with the fast car and had everything to do with the boy who’d driven away with your heart.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

#nct #nct smut #mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut

[mypoisonedvine]

Making Ends Meet | dark!Mandalorian x reader

summary: you’re just a simple woman trying to make your way in the universe, with the universe’s oldest profession.  unfortunately for you, a new customer doesn’t plan on going easy on you.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut (dub con), kidnapping (?? kinda), prostitution, rough sex, pain kink, lots and lots of degradation, ooc mando being a meanie

please do not read if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you, dark fics aren’t for everyone and it is your responsibility to manage your own content consumption

If you were going to have any hope of making rent this month, you needed to book someone tonight— and not a cheapskate who’d try to stiff you after he’d already stiffed you, no, you needed a big spender, a high roller.  You needed somebody who had extra credits to throw around and wore it on his sleeve.

You needed a guy like the one who had just walked in— with beskar on his sleeve.  That’ll do quite nicely, you thought to yourself as you watched the Mandalorian cross the room to talk to the bartender.  

Seemed like he was here on business, unfortunately, from the way he didn’t even venture a glance at you or any of the other women skulking about; but then again, you couldn’t be entirely sure where he was looking with that big helmet covering his face.  It might not be the easiest sell, but you were determined to get this guy for the night— and, more importantly, his money.

Walking up to the bar with your best sultry saunter, you leaned in beside him and smiled as he turned his head to look at you.  "Hey," you purred.  "Haven't seen you around before.  We don't get a lot of new faces around here… even when they're hidden."

He didn't say anything, which was a little concerning, but his head tilted down a bit as if he was looking at your body, which was a good sign.

“What brings you to Tatooine, hm?  Business…” you trailed off as you ghosted your fingertips over his armor-clad forearm, “or pleasure?”

“Business is my pleasure,” he informed you sternly.

“And pleasure is my business,” you countered with a smirk.  Before you could say anything else, the bartender returned with a sack in his palm that he tossed into the Mandalorian’s hands, something metallic jingling inside.

“For a job well done,” he explained with a crooked, toothy smile, “as promised.”

“Payday, huh?” you noticed, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.  “Never comes often enough, amirite?”

Your quip was met with tense silence as he slipped the bag into a sack at his waist.  He turned to leave, but you reached out for his shoulder and stopped him.  

“Wait,” you requested, desperation starting to taint your tone of voice.  He spun and faced you again, and you tried to keep your body language relaxed and sensual in spite of your stress.  “What are you gonna spend all that on?”

“My ship,” he decided after a quick moment.

“Why not spend it on yourself?  You must be tired after working a long, hard day,” you sighed sympathetically, stepping a little closer.  “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take a moment to relax?”

It didn’t seem like he knew what to do with that, and you motioned to a wide, cushioned chair nearby.  Amazingly, it worked; he walked to the chair with that swagger of his, the blaster at his hip suddenly so much more obvious with the way it swung with every step.  As soon as he sat down, you put a leg up beside him, straddling him slightly but leaving enough space to (hopefully) have him wanting more.

“You must be getting hot under there,” you smiled, making sure the double entendre was obvious.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged.

“All this heavy armor... does it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m comfortable,” he denied.

“Good,” you purred before biting down on your lip as you rubbed his chest— or, rather, his chestplate.  “You know, I’ve heard that Mandalorians are even harder underneath the steel.”

He paused a little before he answered.  “Only in a few key places,” he finally replied, his gloved hand reaching to brush over your thigh.  You grinned, knowing you finally had him.

“Why don’t you come to my room and show me?” you suggested.

“I imagine your time isn’t free,” he observed.

“Fifty credits for an hour, or a hundred for the whole night,” you enumerated.

“That’s a little steep,” he noted with a tone of irritation.

“It’s my price,” you shrugged, “take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it,” he decided, shoving you back and standing up to leave.

“No, wait,” you blurted out, “eighty for the night.”

“I don’t have all night,” he informed you sternly.  “Twenty for the hour.”

“Twenty?!” you squawked.  “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

He grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, and pulled you into him.  “A whore,” he answered with a rough growl, “and apparently not as cheap as you look.”

You swallowed dryly, irritated by his attitude but desperate for the cash you knew he had.  “How often do you come through Mos Eisley?” you asked quietly.

“As rarely as I can manage,” he replied.

“If you pay a hundred now, I’ll be here every time you come in, for as long as you need,” you offered.  “Standing order, permanently.”

It was difficult to negotiate with someone whose face you couldn’t see: you weren’t sure if the silence was him considering it, or just watching you squirm in his grasp for fun.  

“A hundred,” he repeated slowly, “for whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want,” you nodded quickly.

“Whenever I want,” he added.

“Whenever you want.”

He let go of your wrist and you stumbled back, rubbing the sore skin with your other hand.  “Show me to your room,” he requested suddenly.

You led him back behind a few tattered curtains, past the hall and up the stairs to your cramped apartment.  It wasn't much, but the red silk draped everywhere and the incense burning in the corner certainly set the mood for the work you did.  Your door slid shut automatically behind him, and normally this is the part where he’d kiss you or you’d kiss him, but that was sort of impossible in his current state.  With an awkward pause, you waited for him to undress.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed instead— and it was even more dominant than you expected, but you were happy to oblige as you untied the strip of fabric keeping your flowy tunic together, letting it fall off of your shoulders and onto the floor.  You didn’t have anything else on, just for the sake of simplicity, and he said nothing as he stepped forward until he was just inches away from you.

He quickly disposed of his gloves to touch you with his bare hands; his rough, warm skin over your waist and hips and breasts was a strong contrast to the worn leather, and even moreso to the hard, cold beskar.  His skin was tan, especially considering that it rarely saw the sun, and you let yourself imagine what the rest of him would look like based on that long with the subtle dusting of dark hair that extended from his arms.  Of course, in your mind, he was stunningly gorgeous, because it was more fun for you that way.  The way he spun you around quickly and forced you to bend over the edge of your bed made you realize he wasn’t as interested in your fun, though.

You yelped a little at the unexpected force, and again when he slapped your ass out of nowhere.  

“You’d better make it worth my while, after I paid a hundred credits,” he grunted.

“Of course,” you agreed quickly, looking back to see him slipping to fingers underneath the edge of his helmet.

“Don’t turn around,” he growled.  “Don’t look back.”

“Okay,” you nodded nervously as you whipped your head back to face in front of you, staring diligently at the dark red comforter beneath you, “I— I won’t.”

You heard the rustle of clothing and a sigh of relief— noticeably one not modulated through the helmet speaker.  Unceremoniously, his helmet was tossed down onto the bed beside you, bouncing and rolling a bit before it found purchase on your quilt.

Next must have been his trousers, as you heard his heavily-equipped belt fall to the floor just before the subtle little grunt you’d come to know as the sure sign that a man had freed a throbbing cock from the confines of his trousers.  He roughly kicked your legs apart, grabbing your hips and using them to hold you up as he started to grind his bare cock against your slickened folds.  You could tell by the way his shaft spread your lips that you had no chance of taking him— he was too thick, you couldn't even tell how long he was yet but he was definitely too thick.

He must have realized something similar, because he pushed you forward a bit; you realized he was looking down at your pussy, which made your face burn with embarrassment.

"Get yourself wet for me," he instructed firmly.  

You didn't think you would ever be able to get wet enough to fit him.  "How?" you asked.

"I don't care how, just do it.  You have thirty seconds."

You gasped a bit but shoved your hand between your legs and frantically rubbed your clit— it didn't really feel that good, with the pressure and fear overwhelming your senses instead of pleasure.  And he didn't make it any easier on you by literally counting each second.  You got a bit wetter, sure, and you'd already been turned on from earlier, but it was still not gonna do you much good against the monster he intended on putting inside you at any moment.

"Fifteen," he continued counting, his voice dropping so much deeper all of a sudden.  "Fourteen."

Halfway out of time already and you weren't that much more wet than when you started.  Your mind was racing with thoughts of everything sexy you could manage to conjure— his voice did help, the deep timbre reverberating right up your spine as anxious fear started to blend in with forced arousal.  You tried to focus on the ways that being fucked by a faceless, mysterious stranger was sexy, rather than the ways it was terrifying.

"Ten," he counted, his voice changing as you heard him smile— you weren't sure how you could hear it, but you could.  "There you go, I can see it now."

You whimpered a little, the sound catching in your throat as fingers suddenly teased your entrance, not quite pushing in but threatening to.  As they swirled around your folds, a lewd wet sound filled the air, mixing in with your heavy breathing and his dark chuckle.

"You hear that?" he asked, and you nodded quickly.  "Just a few seconds left, make them count."

Rubbing faster, you felt your hips start to rock of their own volition, similarly to the way your walls were clenching around nothing in search of being filled.  

"Three, two, one," he finished as you felt the thick head of his cock start to push against you.  You dropped your hand, knowing you'd need both to stabilize yourself.  "You want it?" he asked roughly.

"Yes," you answered, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"Beg for it," he instructed coldly.

"Put your cock in me, please—" was all you could get out before the words stopped in your throat as he suddenly pushed in.  You were barely processing the first inch as he barreled past your resistance to shove the next few in.  It already felt like you would run out of room inside your body before he ran out of cock.

"F-fuck," you hissed, "slow down.  You're too big."  You hoped maybe he'd take pity on you if you phrased it as a compliment.  You were wrong.

"You're a whore," he reminded you, "can't you take it?  It's all you're good for, anyways."

That got you to shut your mouth as he thrust himself completely into you, finding the end of you easily with the head of his cock while your hands clutched the bedsheets for dear life.  You winced but managed to suppress a cry as he started to fuck you, not quite fast yet but so much deeper than your brain could process.  "Ffffuu-uuck," you stammered, the sting starting to fade but the overwhelming pressure never really letting up.

"How's it feel?" he asked, almost sounding like he could moan but holding back.  "Don't lie."

You realized, then, that he didn't want you to fake pleasure like most clients did— he wanted to see your pain, and know he caused it.  He enjoyed hurting you.  You swallowed the lump in your throat and whimpered your honest reply: "Hurts."

"Good."

His balls slapping against your clit only added to the overwhelming sensations you were trying so hard to ignore, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable all of a sudden.  You could tell your walls were clamping down on him as pressure built in your gut and threatened to push past the point of no return.  Your moan was so much louder than you expected it to be, broken and guttural and animalistic. 

He pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp.  “That’s right,” he instructed through his teeth, “fuckin’ scream for it.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed loudly.  

He leaned forward and it felt like his body would surround yours, somehow, especially when he reached down to roughly grope one breast and then another.  He never stopped thrusting through it all, even when his head fell exhaustedly between your shoulder blades— it was so odd to be able to feel his forehead and hair on your skin but have no idea what his face looked like at all.

The telltale signs of orgasm were arriving in your body— your thighs quivered, your voice cracked, your walls and clit throbbed with need.  It felt like you could read every detail of his cock inside your silky wet heat, like the ridge of his leaking head was rubbing up against your swollen g-spot with every thrust.  You felt as if being so full of him had forced you to vacate your mind, too, to accommodate his size— as if that were possible.  

Either he sensed your peak approaching as well, or he just had convenient timing.  "Wanna feel you come around it," he grunted.  "Can you come for me?  Or are you completely useless?"

“‘M close,” you warned him as your answer, shame sending a shiver up your spine even though you felt guilty for it.

“Then come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now.”

It was odd how that actually did push you over the edge, his brutal thrusts and degrading words creating a perfect storm inside you as the friction became too much to bear.  You sobbed as it wracked through you, arching your back absent-mindedly, clenching your legs together as best you could with his legs in between them.  He didn’t stop fucking you through it, which meant that the sensation built to the point of ‘too much’ extremely quickly as your attempts at begging for mercy were lost to breathless moans.  Overwhelmed, your body collapsed onto the bed limply, your hips only staying up because he held them up, like your weight was nothing to him at all.

"Yeah, just like that,” he taunted, “fuckin' come on my cock, fuck— you're just a dumb slut, huh?  You love getting fucked like the desperate, needy fucktoy you are, is that it?"

"Y-yes," you whined weakly, cheeks burning at the feeling of him using your body— or maybe it was from the head rush caused by the afterglow of your orgasm. 

"You like it when it hurts,” he posited.  “You want me to hurt you."

"Yes— don't stop, please…" you whimpered, quiet but definitely loud enough for him to hear.

“Not gonna stop,” he promised, “‘til you’re full of my come.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, voice sounding hoarse and thin.  It had been a while since you lost your voice because of a session… and since you had walked funny for a few days afterwards.  This one was definitely going to do both.

As his hips started to slam harder and faster into yours, you really hoped it was a sign that he was close; his raspy groans made you sure of it, though.  You could feel his cock swelling and flexing, incredibly, and it made you a little light-headed but it made your overstimulated walls throb around him as well.

With one deep, exhausted growl from the man behind you, a warmth began to spread through you from the inside out.  When he released his grip on your hips, you fell onto the bed with a sigh and a thud.  A hand appeared in your peripheral vision to snatch the helmet off of your bed, and it only took him a few moments to stuff his softening cock back into his trousers and magically be dressed again.  Funny how he looked exactly the same as he had half an hour ago, meanwhile you were confident you looked totally fucked-out and fucked-up.

“You’re a good fuck,” he offered a monotone compliment as he pulled on his gloves, staring down at you as you slipped your robe back on and tried to ignore the warm sticky feeling between your legs.

“You’re… intense,” you replied, chuckling a little.  “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

He didn’t respond, or leave, but just stood there looking at you for a minute as you stood up and adjusted yourself, trying not to limp noticeably because you figured he didn’t need any more ego.  “‘Whenever I want’ only applies when I’m on this planet,” he observed suddenly, interrupting the silence, “which I try not to be.”

“You can come around as often as you like,” you explained.  You froze when he appeared behind you, reaching his arms out and caging you in against the wall the second you'd turned to face him.

“But wouldn’t it be so much more cost-effective if you were with me all the time?  On my ship?”

You whimpered a little as he leaned in closer, and you felt his gaze on you through the dark visor of his helmet even though you couldn’t see it.  “That… that wasn’t the deal,” you whispered nervously.

“The deal’s changed,” he growled, ignoring your yelps of pain as he manhandled you and pinned you to the wall by your neck before you could even try to fight back.  “Whatever I want, whenever I want,” he growled, “that’s what you said.  I’ll hold you to that.”

The leather gloves creaked softly as he tightened his grip on the sides of your neck, forcing your lips to fall into a useless gasp for air.  Your hands reached out to claw at his chest, a silent plea for release, but he wasn’t having it.  

“Whatever you want,” you barely managed to croak out as your vision started to go dark.  “Please, Mando…”

“Whenever I want?”

“Whenever, please,” you cried, tears stinging your eyes.  He let go, finally, and you crumpled at his feet.  Somehow, you’d managed to sell yourself into slavery— for a measly hundred credits.  This whole thing had begun with you needing to make rent, and it ended with you realizing you wouldn’t return to your apartment again at all.  

He didn't need to shackle or bind you to make you follow him to his ship; his power over you was nauseatingly effortless, but you weren't about to try to run from an unhinged warrior like him.  

You'd always wanted to leave Tatooine and explore the galaxy… this wasn't exactly how you'd imagined doing it, as a Mandalorian's whore, but there were worse fates.  Like being a Mandalorian's target.  And you planned on doing whatever he wanted you to if it meant avoiding that.

#dark!mandalorian #dark!mandalorian smut #dark!din djarin smut #the mandalorian dark fic #dark!din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin x y/n #dark!din djarin x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[dollslayer]

For the drabble challenge: Bucky Barnes / He took the last treadmill

Gains

Bucky Barnes x Reader, No Powers AU Summary: Bucky Barnes has stolen the last treadmill and with it, the last shred of your patience. W/C: 2k Warnings: Smut, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex A/N: I wrote this for @syntheticavenger's 5k How it started/How it's going celebration/challenge!! I know it's been a minute since I've written anything but if you liked this please comment/reblog! Main Masterlist

How it started -

You heaved a heavy sigh as you finally got into your car. Looking at the clock on your dashboard you noticed it was nearly 11pm. You were fresh off of a late night at the office that ended with you being chewed out in the boardroom for someone else’s mistakes and desperately needed to release all your pent up rage. You can’t run away from your problems but you can damn well try at the gym.

You reached for the door but before you could reach it a large hand was pulling the handle and holding the door for you. The hand lead to a thick forearm with veins trailing up to perfectly sculpted biceps. You peered up at the owner of the sculpted arm and found it belonged to maybe the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He has crystal blue eyes and pillowy lips curved slightly into a grin. Strands of shoulder length hair are falling out of the small bun he’s tied it into and into his face.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped midstep, leaving him waiting on you to walk through the entryway. Quickly looking away with a huff of small embarrassment you muster a small thank you and pick up the pace towards the locker rooms. You were suddenly feeling nervous at the realization that you’d have to work out in front of him but the thought of him in less clothing was appealing enough to distract you.

You’d figured given the hour that the gym wouldn’t be so busy but looking around it was teeming with activity. As if your day couldn’t be any more annoying, one lone treadmill stood open so you hustled to the locker rooms to change so you could claim it.

Just as you were about to put your phone in your locker and head out you were bombarded by a slew of work emails, making you furious all over again. Anger refueled, you set off with new determination for the treadmill. Just as you were about to enter the main gym area the same guy that held the door open for you was headed in the same direction. Smiling, you held the door open for him this time with a small laugh, which he thanked you for before bounding off.

His huge stride was heading in a direction that was giving you a bad feeling. You tried to fastwalk past him, hoping that you could beat him there but before you could touch the rails he was stepping onto the last fucking treadmill. You came to a stop with a look of disbelief and he looked over his shoulder and smirked at you.

“Somethin’ wrong, doll?”

“No,” you scoffed before walking away towards the ellipticals.

With the state of your temper right now you didn’t trust yourself not to blow up on him. You tell yourself that the gym asks people to only use equipment for a certain amount of time, someone’s bound to get off soon. You were breaking a sweat but it wasn’t really releasing all the built up tension you had like running would. Glancing over you spy one open treadmill, but of fucking course the only one open is next to him.

Heaving a sigh you turn up your music and step up to the treadmill intent on ignoring him. His head turns slightly towards you and out of the corner of your eye you spy a smirk. You roll your eyes and up the pace, hoping to block out the rest of the world for a bit.

You let yourself get lost in the workout and finally felt some of your frustrations melt away. When you’d reached your limit and got off you looked around and realized that the man was gone, so was most everyone else. Checking the time you noted it was nearly 2 AM and you figured you’d better call it a night if you were ever going to deal with the shit show that awaited you tomorrow morning at the office.

Walking back to the locker rooms the man from earlier was passing you on his way out and gave you a mischievous grin.

“I steal your treadmill back there, doll?” He asks playfully.

“Don’t let it happen again” You say jokingly with a small smile, still slightly annoyed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He chuckles, “Have a good night.”

You wish him a good night as he walks on past you, notes of his body wash hitting your senses. As annoyed as you’d been you definitely wouldn’t mind running into him again.

Another week or so had gone by and another fiasco at work had erupted. You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take but you’d made a habit of running at the gym whenever shit went down at work. You’d yet to run into the handsome stranger again but he’d probably just distract you anyway so it was for the better.

You’d opted for lifting light weights and in doing so, you’d completely missed Man Bun just across the room. You’d forgotten that you wanted to run. You got up and turned towards the treadmills. You had stepped forward just in time for Man Bun to take the last. Fucking. Treadmill. Again. Your jaw actually dropped a little and didn’t try to conceal your scoff.

“Come on!” you even stamped your foot a little. After the time you’ve been having at work all you’d wanted was to let off some steam but here he was again with his cocky attitude treating it like a joke.

He actually stopped the treadmill and turned around, a toothy grin proudly on display.

“I did it again, didn’t I? Don’t worry I’m sure someone else will be off soon”

How it’s going -

Your back met the cold tiles of the shower as he pushed you back with a harsh kiss. His lips caught yours, stealing your moans as his large calloused hands ran their way down your curves. You focused your efforts on pushing down his sweats, his cock springing free from its confines.

“No underwear? How presumptuous” You ask against his lips with a smile.

“What can I say? I was feeling lucky”

He hooked his fingers in your leggings and pulled them down. You hastily stepped out of them and worked to remove your top, leaving you in only a sports bra and your panties. He paused for a second before taking your panties in his fist and snapping them in one go. You gasped, slightly shocked but it just turned you on further.

He was to the point in what he wanted, his fingers finding your core and sinking right in. Your moan turned into a whimper as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting you right in your G-spot. You were feeling small under him, his perfectly toned chest proudly on display and his biceps bulging as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

The pleasure you were feeling in this moment had you in disbelief that you’d ever been hesitant of him when he cornered you earlier.

By the time you’d finally gotten done with your run you’d realized everyone had petered out, even Man Bun. You reckoned it was time for you to head out too. It was kind of eerie being alone in the gym so you wanted to shower and get out as quickly as possible.

As you were about to push the door open a familiar, large hand covered yours. You could feel his body heat and smell whatever soap he’d used, that’s how close he was. You turned around and he kept his arm outstretched past you, you were practically in his arms.

Your eyes met his and you let out a shaky breath, you weren’t really sure what to make of the expression on his face. You raised your eyebrows in waiting.

“Just wanted to apologize, for takin’ your treadmill and all. Seems to be a habit of mine, huh?”

“I’m starting to think you meant to.”

“I gotta admit, I saw you gunnin’ for that treadmill and I wanted to beat you there. What do you say I make it up to you?”

He was definitely making it up to you now. He was a man on a mission, pressing his palm firmly against your clit and working against your spot, trying desperately to get you to cum. You couldn’t do anything but cling desperately to his shoulders. Your cries were getting louder as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You finally snapped and came with a shout before nearly slumping against him. His arms caught you and he laughed a little to himself.

“So fuckin’ good for me, you’re gonna take me so well.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as you tried to get your bearings. You reached down to grab his cock in your hands, he was rock hard and you wanted nothing more than to run your tongue along them.

You shakily began to sink down to your knees but a strong hand grasped you by the shoulders and pulled you up before you could.

“Just wanna feel you” He breathed out before pressing a kiss to your lips.

It was your turn to smirk at him, slowly standing up to your full height. He kissed you again as his large hands grabbed your breasts one at a time, toying with your nipples and making you whimper just slightly. You could feel his cock hard against your thigh and decided you needed him now.

You lifted your thigh up over his hip, which he was all too eager to hold while you grabbed him and positioned him at your entrance. His other hand grasped your hip and he thrusted into you with determination, causing you to let out an obscene moan. He was hitting you so deeply and when he began moving you swore you couldn’t take him.

He hooked one arm under your leg as he pistoned in and out of you at a pace you weren’t quite ready for but you’d reveled in the feeling of. He was hitting you deeper than you’d ever thought possible by anyone else you’d had before.

“Shit,” He huffed, “Gonna fuck you stupid?”

You could only whimper in response as he did just that. He wasn’t holding anything back as he thrust into you over and over. You were quickly becoming overwhelmed but in the best way possible. You couldn’t help the noises that came out of you, couldn’t help the begging for him to continue.

As he pistoned in and out of you while keeping a vice grip on your leg you let out the most wanton little mewls, only spurring him on further. He was dragging every inch of him out of you and then slamming it back in, all the while his thumb toying with your clit. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out and you couldn’t tell what was more exciting, the thought of him ruining you or the realization that anyone could walk in and see you two. Right now you didn’t care so long as he kept at it.

You tugged at his tresses, pulling them loose from the low bun they hung in, eliciting grunts and groans from him. You latched your mouth onto his neck and found his sweet spot, sucking a deep bruise into it.

“Fuck, babydoll, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out”

“Then don’t”

That was all the motivation it took for him to slam into you at full force, his fingers working double time to help you reach your high once more. You thought you couldn’t take anymore as he slammed into you harder than he had and bit harshly into your neck as he spilled himself inside of you with one final thrust.

You cried out as you came around him, feeling your pussy pulse in waves as you registered the aftershocks. You leaned your head back against the tiles while you tried to catch your breath, vaguely hearing his own sighs. Finally feeling up to sorts, you looked up at him only to find his hazy blue eyes boring into yours. A part of you can’t believe you’d done such a thing in public with a man who was practically a stranger but the other part was just as turned on by the fact.

“Think I’ve given enough penance for you, doll?”

“Not even close.”

#synths5kfollowerchallenge #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #no powers au #smut

[hyunjilicious]

body shots [bucky barnes]

A/n: I word vomited this in 20 minutes and I fucking need this in my life. This is literally just a college AU with minimal plot + shy!innocent!bucky with a twist

Summary: you’re the popular girl and Bucky is the nerd no one talks to. What happens when you finally confess you have a crush on him? 2.1k

Warnings: ok, I always try to not describe the reader at all, but in order for the things in this fic to be able to happen, the reader has to have boobs that aren’t... you know... non-existent like mine lol. Language, alcohol and I think that’s it?

-

“Come on” you giggled, your tormenting gaze consuming the whole of Bucky’s being. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, eyes awkwardly avoiding yours, in a pathetic attempt to get himself out of his situation. You followed his gaze, looking over the sea of people, but nothing caught your eye. You turned to him, frustration curling your brows, “Please, Bucky”

“No” he whined, throwing his head to the side as the softest of smiles danced at the corner of his lips. Deep down, judging by his pink cheeks and glossy eyes, you knew he wanted to let loose. It was probably the surroundings that inhibited him, that kept him tied to the corner of the room, one red cup of beer in his hand. “I’m not-” he cringed, gesturing towards the tens of already inebriated young adults around the two of you, “I can’t. I’m not one of you guys”

“You can be” you giggled seductively, grabbing his hand into yours. He stiffened against your touch but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched you closely, his perfectly innocent blue eyes curiously watching yours, looking for confirmation. Were you really hitting on him? He was oblivious to the moon and back, but even so, your intentions were a bit too obvious.

He contemplated it for a second. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a wordless question and he actually thought about it for a minute, his mouth popping open before he regained himself. Bucky shook his head, chuckling with embarrassment, “Are you making fun of me?”

Your heart broke. “No” you squeezed his hand tighter into yours, “Of course I’m not” you added, Although your tone was somewhat stern, your voice almost cracked as you failed to hide just how much his question hurt. “Why would you think that? Bucky, if I ever did anything-”

“No” he cut you off. Your sudden change in attitude worried him, and now his words drowned in guilt. “You never did anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” you questioned, dragging him by his hand to a nearby table. You put your own glass down, and turned to him, “Tell me”

“It’s nothing” Bucky shook his head, silently laughing as he stared at your shoes.

“Why don’t you want to dance with us?”

“I don’t like dancing,” he shrugged.

“See?” you smiled, wrapping both your hands around his. “If you had told me that from the beginning I would have dropped it. But you told me you don’t think you’re one of us. What does that mean? And you asked me if I’m making fun of you. I would never, Bucky”

Despite the speakers blasting music loud enough to make the windows shake, silence settled between the two of you. You awaited his answer, softly rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. 

“I feel stupid” he shook his head, “I don’t even know what I’m doing at this party. No one wants me here anyway”

“I want you here”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a nice person”

“I’m not nice enough to go around and make sure everyone feels welcome”

“Then why are you here with me?” he scoffed.

“Because I like you?” you hesitated despite it being the truth, and felt your ears burst into flames. In some way, you felt a deep pain in the depths of your chest as you spoke the words, but as soon as they left your mouth, you actually felt relieved. “I liked you for some time, but I had no idea how to approach you, so I thought maybe you’d want to dance with me.”

There was nothing but confusion on his features. His eyes studied yours, looking for the lie. He gawked and all but gasped when you maintained the eye contact and sent him a sweet, reassuring smile. “You like me?” Bucky asked, “Why?”

“Don’t be like that” you frowned, “You’re amazing”

“You don’t know me”

“But I want to”

He bitterly chuckled, the disbelief in his tone sounding almost condescending. “No, you don’t”

“Listen” you said, “If it’s really dancing that you don’t like, we can do something else. We can, I don’t know, talk, do shots? Race down the street or sit down on the porch and roll the joints for these dumbasses. But if it’s me that you don’t like, tell me and I’ll go now and won’t bug you again”

“You’re not bugging me,” Bucky said, his voice barely audible.

“Really?” you beamed almost not able to believe your ears, “Do you wanna-”

“Let’s, um” he laughed, “Let’s dance.”

You weren’t going to object - it was what you came to this shitty party for anyway. Keeping your hand tightly secured around his, you dragged him through the room, searching for a darker corner of the dance floor. You knew he was already somewhat uncomfortable and didn’t want to make everything worse by having him end up in the middle of a mosh pit or something worse.

“Hey there!” Clint’s voice reached your ears. You stopped dead in your tracks and cursed under your breath before turning to face him.

Bucky looked confused and cornered while Clint was as smug as ever.

“This is a party, not a nerd fest, Y/n. The fuck’s he doing here?”

Nostrils flaring, you swallowed your anger and stared him down as you wrapped an arm around Bucky’s frame, “Why are you such an asshole?”

“It’s ok” Bucky tried to butt in.

“No, it’s not” you objected.

“How come the princess of this campus is the one with the balls in this relationship?”

Feeling Bucky tense, you took a deep breath, and decided to ignore the erroneous assumption. “He’s just too polite to sink to your level. But I’m not. So beat it, Clint.”

He pretended to turn around and leave, but stopped and faced you one more time, his expression hazardous. “I just wanna know. Were you his first kiss?”

You all but lunged at him to slap his cheek. And you would have done it had Bucky not stopped you at the last moment. 

“Wow!” Clint exclaimed, and turned to Bucky. “How the fuck did you land that piece of ass?” he asked, nodding towards you, “You can even hold you ground”

Bucky scoffed, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked around the room, slightly amused as you waited for his reaction. “I can very much hold my ground.”

“Prove it,” Clint taunted. “Prove you’re not a pussy”

“God” you rolled your eyes, but he continued.

“You two. Body shots” Clint commanded, eager to see Bucky chicken out.

“Oh, jesus christ!” you scoffed, “What are you, 14?”

Just when Clint was about to laugh and claim the win, Bucky nonchalantly accepted the challenge. “Sure”

“Bucky-” you turned to him, “We don’t have to do this, who cares what Clint has to-”

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bucky asked, looking down at you, his eyes cold and determined, nothing like they were before. He smiled lewdly, a smile that hid a lot. The hairs on your body stood up, yet you agreed through a simple nod.

Much to Clint’s surprise, Bucky led you to the bar, his grip strong around your waist as he guided you across the room. “Who goes first?”

“I don’t… I don’t care” you mumbled, amazed and still in shock following his sudden change of attitude.

“Come on” Bucky smiled, and fisted the back of his collar, elegantly pulling his sweater over his head. He handed it to you, and for a second you wondered why he was wearing both a sweater and a shirt, but this thought was wiped from your mind, literally obliterated, blown to pieces, fucking erased when your eyes landed on his naked top half. 

The music had been turned down, everyone around you watching carefully. Girls who otherwise would have never looked in his direction gawked and giggled to one another, unable to look away from him. And frankly, neither could you. From his chiseled and defined abs, to his tan chest and the unearthly, bloodcurdling scars that littered his frame, you found yourself struggling to function properly. Who was this guy?

Bucky sat on the bar, a slice of lemon in between his fingers. “Where do you want it?” he asked, waving the salt around.

“Wherever you want it, Bucky!” you shook your head, enthusiastically smiling from ear to ear, “You got it”

“It’s your turn to choose” he urged you.

“Fine” you grinned, “Lean back”

With a side smirk, he laid down on the bar, his chest and abdomen on full display for you and everyone else in the room. You moved to stand by his side, your left hand on his massive thigh as you peppered salt in on the dips in his abdomen. His whole frame rose with every breath he took, and by the second, your need for him grew stronger.

Bucky placed his warm hand on your hip. “Whenever you’re ready”

“Oh, I’m ready all right” you giggled, grabbing your shot.

Before slipping the lemon slice between his teeth, Bucky sent you a wink, and you pussy didn’t fail to respond in an instant. All eyes were on you, whispers and gossip all over, but you drowned them out as you leaned down and licked your way up his body. His abdominal muscles clenched under your tongue, yet somehow off his skin, the salt tasted sweet. You downed the tequila and moved towards his face, your teeth gently grabbing onto the lemon slice as your heart beat out of your chest. And of course he didn’t let go too easily. 

Close to bursting into nervous laughter, you opened your eyes, finding his blue ones menacingly staring at you. You were ready to pull away without that damned slice in order to just breathe, but then he unclenched his jaw. You exhaled with relief, his lips brushing against yours before you managed to stand up.

And when you did, you felt disheveled. The amount of tension that tortured your mind during these seconds compared to nothing you had ever experienced before. Every part of your body burned and you sucked on that poor lemon slice for too fucking long in order to pull yourself back together. 

“Your turn” Bucky teased, sitting up. You met his eyes and chuckled. “You don’t have to take your shirt off if you don’t want to,” he announced but you rolled our eyes and scoffed.

“Yeah, right”

After ushering Bucky off the bar, you watched him dress himself back up. When he was ready, you took his spot and salaciously grinned at him as you pulled your top over your head, your breasts inches away from his hungry eyes.

“Lean on your elbows, doll” he said, and you almost burst into flames at the pet name.

You did as told and lowered yourself back.

Tens of people watched you, yet the only eyes you cared about were Bucky’s. He stared at you as if he was going to eat you alive, and frankly, at this point, you were willing to beg for it.

“Take this” he said, placing another slice of lemon between your teeth, before grabbing the salt and pouring a healthy amount across your breasts.

As he lowered himself over your body, you heaved in anticipation, your chest nearing his face with every tortured breath you took. And when it happened, it felt like pure electricity attacked your body. His devilish tongue brushed against your skin, around the curve of your tits, his breath hot and wet as a smile was visible at the corners of his mouth.

You continued to watch him as he straightened his back to take the shot, and almost choked on the slice between your teeth when he leaned down again. He didn’t hold back, his lips crashing against yours, the aggravation of his movement making the lemon juice drip down your chin. And this could’ve gone so much differently, but he had a task. Bucky ripped the slice away from your teeth, pulling away as he munched on it.

You were lost. Completely and utterly in pure awe with this man. In a matter of minutes he went from a cute nerd you were soft for, to a sculptured man who you were fucking weak for. And judging by his proud expression, he knew it.

“Ok, ok, fine, fuck it” Clint called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I fucking take everything back. Though you, Buck-” he added, “Could fucking ditch the dweb attire and maybe… I don’t know, stop being fucking weird., cause man-” he whistled, looking Buck up and down before turning around and leaving without another word.

“Oh my god” you laughed, and so did Bucky.

You wanted to stand up, but he was quicker, grabbing your waist and helping you to your feet. “Got some shit I need to tell you about me” he confessed, his voice low, right against your ear.

“No shit” you scoffed, slapping his chest.

“Your place or mine?”

“Whichever is closer”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut

[lamen-trash]

19 for Damen/Laurent? 💙💙

19. Forehead kisses (Prompt from this list)

Laurent did not know when he first started noticing it.

Maybe it was a few months after his frequent visits to Damen’s apartment began, or maybe earlier. He couldn’t be sure.

All Laurent knew was that somehow, in the midst of making dinner, watching a movie together, and the inevitable drooping of his eyelids as the night wore on, he magically ended up in a bed every night. Granted, it was the guest bedroom, but Laurent never had any recollection of saying goodnight to Damen or walking to bed. None of that seemed to matter, though, when Laurent was greeted with the sight of Damen cooking breakfast in the morning light, curls askew and smile lethal as ever.

It never bothered him before. That is, until one night, when both men had consumed one too many glasses of wine and made more than a few jokes at the other’s expense.

“Oh, come on, you’re the one who can’t even stay up until midnight and falls asleep on my couch all the time,” Damen laughed, his finger flung out accusingly and his eyes full of glittering mirth. The alcohol brought a sweet flush to his cheeks that made Laurent feel like he was melting on the inside.

His words, however, brought Laurent to a halt. He could only stare as Damen started to laugh harder at the stunned expression painted across his pale features.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Damen teased. “You always complain about being too tired to drive home and your words get all slurred and I have to carry you to bed.”

“I– What?” Laurent could feel a fiery blush start to overtake his features. “You definitely do not.”

“Wow, so you really don’t remember, huh?” Damen’s laughter had died down, but the soft, amused gaze he directed at Laurent stayed on his face.

Laurent had to change the topic. To something. Anything. “Kind of like you don’t remember spilling all those people’s drinks at The Abbey?”

That seemed to do the trick, as drunk indignation twisted Damen’s features. “Hey, I have no recollection of ever–”

And, bingo. Oaf distracted, crisis averted. “Of course you don’t remember – you were hammered!” Laurent laughed. “All of those women kept giving you dirty looks for the rest of the night.”

As Damen tilted his head back for a hearty laugh, Laurent stalwartly ignored the strong column of his throat and the dip of his Adam’s Apple. They had been friends for years, and Damen had never made a move. Laurent needed to get over himself.

Later that night, as their energy faded and the conversation dwindled, Laurent was determined to stay alert. But there was something about the soft leather of Damen’s couch, the warm lighting of the apartment, and the soothing sound of Damen mumbling an old story that had Laurent’s vision fading.

When the feeling of arms folding around his body permeated the haze in Laurent’s mind, he had the wherewithal to mumble “M'awake,” and try to squirm out of Damen’s arms.

It was to no avail, as Damen only tightened his grip before leaving the living room. “Let’s get you to bed,” Damen whispered close to his ear. Laurent could only let out a little noise of acknowledgement in response.

Everything was still hazy when Laurent felt covers being pulled up over him, and then, a pause, like the entire world was waiting for something. Maybe Laurent was waiting, too.

And suddenly: the gentlest feeling of lips against his forehead, like a butterfly wing fluttering against his skin.

Laurent would’ve stopped to think about it more if his mind wasn’t already slipping into unconsciousness the moment the feeling faded. That night, Laurent slept a sound, dreamless sleep.

Waking up the next morning was like emerging from the cold ocean after a long swim. It was as if liquid warmth was bleeding into every one of Laurent’s limbs, making him snuggle down further into the soft bedding.

And yet, when he opened his eyes and remembered the previous night in a sudden rush, all Laurent could feel was panic.

What had Damen meant by that? Was he supposed to remember the kiss? Did Damen kiss him in a platonic way or in a we’ve-been-friends-for-years-but-I-secretly-want-you-like-you-want-me way?

Laurent couldn’t help but bury his face into a pillow and let out a silent scream. Leave it to Damen to do something so innocent yet so loaded, and not think twice about it. It was cruel, really – Damen wasn’t the one with severe mental health issues prone to overthinking and thought loops.

The more Laurent thought about it, the more he could feel himself getting fired up. How dare Damen play with his heart like this? Especially after everything Laurent had told him about his past, how much he had trusted him with…

However, all thoughts of chewing out a too-large Akielon verbally that morning dissipated when Laurent peeked out of the guest room to see a fully-prepared breakfast with pancakes, berries and homemade whip cream.

Fuck, Laurent thought, and his heart instantly swelled in size. Damen knew the key to his heart all too well – sweets. Damn him.

While Laurent filled himself with sugar and carbs and coffee, no mention of last night arose, and Damen continued on like everything was normal. He took Laurent’s prickly morning attitude in stride and even ruffled his blonde hair before going to get dressed.

If you want to play oblivious, two can play at that game, Laurent thought to himself, and chewed thoughtfully.

From that point on, every time Laurent went over to Damen’s house, he made an effort to hold onto the last shreds of consciousness before everything slipped away. Like clockwork, around midnight, Damen would gently pick Laurent up and carry him to bed before tucking him in and kissing his forehead. The feeling was always fleeting, but treasured in Laurent’s bruised heart.

Sometimes, if they had laughed particularly hard together one night, Damen would spend a few extra seconds stroking Laurent’s cheek or hair, before pulling away as if burned.

It was maddening. Not that Damen was treating him tenderly for seemingly no reason – that, Laurent particularly enjoyed – it was that Damen seemed to want to touch him more, yet never did.

“We’ve been friends for years, and nothing until now,” Laurent exclaimed, waving his hands around as if that would solve his problems. “Why doesn’t he just make a move already?”

Aimeric only raised his eyebrow over his freshly-brewed coffee as he took a long sip.

“You’re judging me. Why are you judging me? You know I hate it when you look at me like that,” Laurent deadpanned.

Aimeric let out a little chuckle before shaking his head fondly. “You,” he began, pointing a perfectly-manicured nail in Laurent’s direction. “Have a problem. And Damen does, too. There’s something wrong with you guys.”

“If you could skip out on the insulting me part and move on to the advice segment of this coffee date, I would really appreciate it.”

Laurent couldn’t hold in his begrudging smile when Aimeric wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and raised his voice an octave. “Ooh, we’re on a date right now? Should I delete my dating apps and tell all my boy toys that I’m taken?”

After a firm smack to Aimeric’s arm and a classic over-the-top reaction from the brunette, he sighed. “Listen, I’m only going to say this once. Do with it what you will.”

Laurent nodded, gravely serious.

“Damen’s in love with you,” Aimeric said, and then took a sip of coffee as if those words hadn’t just flipped Laurent’s entire world upside down.

“And before you wipe that stupid look off your face and deny it, you should hear that you’re definitely in love with him, too.”

“Wh–”

“Don’t make me say it again, and don’t deny the truth.”

Laurent’s mouth snapped shut. He chose his next words carefully. “Yes, it is true that after many years of friendship I do feel a certain… fondness for Damen, but that’s not–”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Aimeric exclaimed, and slapped his hand down onto the table. “You guys have been in love with each other for years and we’ve all been waiting for one of you to make a goddamn move. I’m sick of this back and forth ‘Will they, won’t they’ and ‘Oh they’re pining for each other and it’s romantic’ bullshit.”

“Wait–” Laurent felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

“I’m being dead serious when I say you need to make a move as soon as possible or else I will spontaneously combust from lack of attention. All our friends ever want to talk about when you’re not there is how much you and Damen want to bone each other but act like you’re just friends. I told Pallas about a new guy I’m dating the other day and his response was to ask me if I want him as much as Damen clearly wants you. How is one man supposed to live like this?”

“Aimeric, stop–”

“It’s always Damen this, Laurent that. ‘They’re meant for each other,’ blah blah blah. What about my fairytale slowburn friends-to-lovers romance? What about any of us? It can’t be about the It couple all the time.”

“We’re not even a couple!”

“Exactly. That is my point. Get your shit together before we all excommunicate you two from the friend group for being dumbasses.” Laurent could see in Aimeric’s pointed look that his friend was serious.

While Laurent sat in stunned silence, Aimeric regained some of his usual amused nonchalance. “I’m late for my 2:00 meeting.”

With that, Aimeric was up out of his chair and patting Laurent’s shoulder in farewell before breezing out of the coffeeshop door.

Laurent could only finish his coffee quietly, sitting in dazed contemplation of what he was about to do.

That night, Laurent knew he had to bring out the big guns.

“Wow, wine and vodka tonight?” Damen asked upon opening his door, eyeing the alcohol in Laurent’s hands.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Laurent said in response, a smirk playing around his lips. He didn’t miss the way Damen’s eyes strayed to his mouth.

Hours later, when Damen was thoroughly drunk and laughing way too loudly at Laurent’s insults, Laurent decided to make his move.

“Damen,” Laurent began, waiting until his friend looked up at him with glazed eyes. They were both sitting on the ground in front of the couch, a few candles lit around them. “How long have we been friends?”

“Is this still part of truth or dare?” Damen asked.

“No, it’s just truth now. We each ask a question, and the other person has to answer truthfully. If the other person refuses to answer, they have to take a shot.”

Damen let out an overdramatic whine and let his head fall back against the couch. “No more shots.”

“Then answer truthfully, and we won’t have a problem.” Laurent’s smile was sharp. Too sharp, and he could feel it. Even with the drunkenness running through his veins, Laurent’s nerves were on fire.

“Okay,” Damen said.

“Okay?”

“Yes, I said yes!” Damen laughed, and turned to face Laurent more fully. “You go first.”

Laurent made a show of thinking before starting again: “How long have we been friends?”

Damen’s smile turned dopey. “Hmm. Five years? No, six. Was that just a test?”

“Maybe,” Laurent couldn’t help but be charmed by Damen’s drunken earnestness. “Your turn.”

“How do you get your hair to be so soft?” Damen asked in wonder, reaching out a finger to twirl a golden loc around.

Laurent laughed. “Conditioner.”

“Never tried that,” Damen said thoughtfully, which made Laurent laugh again. Damen, being Damen, joined in, until both men were giggling uncontrollably on the floor for no apparent reason.

It was when their laughter started to die down that Laurent decided to rip the Band-Aid off.

“Are you in love with me?”

Damen’s laughter abruptly cut off. Laurent couldn’t bring himself to meet Damen’s gaze, so he opted to stare down at his crossed legs and fidgeting hands.

Wordlessly, Damen poured himself a shot and downed it in one go. Laurent risked a glance up and was met with Damen’s solemn face, uncharacteristically stoic.

“My turn.” Damen said in a rush. “How long have you been awake when I kiss your forehead at night?”

“A couple months now.” Damen wasn’t meeting his eyes, so Laurent pushed on. “Do you want me?”

Another shot, downed hastily by an increasingly-drunk Damen who still refused to make eye contact.

A shred of irritation slithered into Laurent’s heart. Why wouldn’t Damen just talk to him?

“Do you ever think about it? Us together?” Damen went to pour another shot, but before he could say anything else, Laurent shot to his feet.

“Oh, so you’re just not going to answer me, then? You’re not going to answer any of my questions? How about this: Have you ever thought about fucking me? About me naked underneath you? About us kissing and holding hands and going on dates in public together?”

Damen raised the shot glass to his lips, but Laurent knocked it out of his hand before it reached his mouth. Finally, Damen met Laurent’s gaze, and the panic that had been seizing Laurent’s heart for months seemed to be reflected in his dark irises.

“Stand up and talk to me, idiot, before I leave this apartment and never come back,” Laurent hissed.

Slowly, Damen rose to his feet. “I love you,” Laurent managed to get out, despite his throat closing up with emotion. “And if you don’t love me back, I’m not going to wait around and–”

Between one second and the next, Damen had a strong arm wrapped around Laurent’s waist and was pulling him in, closer and closer until their mouths met.

Laurent could only freeze, everything in his body coming to a halt, as he registered what was happening. Damen was kissing him. He had refused to answer all of his questions, and yet–

“You’re the idiot,” Damen whispered into the scant space in between their lips when he pulled away. “I’ve been in love with you the whole time.”

“But– I– you–” Laurent tried and failed to get a coherent sentence out.

“I thought you were asking all of those questions because you were mad I was carrying you to bed and kissing you goodnight,” Damen laughed. “Granted, I am quite drunk and not thinking straight, but that’s not the point.”

“The point is–” Damen began, but interrupted himself to steal another quick kiss. “I want you more than anything in the world. I’m happy with your friendship if that’s all you’re willing to give, but you need to know I’ve been in love with you for years.”

The room seemed to come into sharper focus, as if every detail in Damen’s apartment had been hiding from Laurent previously.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Laurent could hear the shrill tone in his voice, his incredulity overcoming all reason.

“Laurent,” Damen deadpanned. “I’ve barely dated anyone else the entire time we’ve been friends and I make you food all the time. You’re my emergency contact for everything. Hell, you’re the only one of our friends who has a key to my apartment. Was I not making myself clear enough?”

After a moment of contemplation, Laurent could only laugh.

“What?” Damen asked defensively, as Laurent leaned forward to rest his head against Damen’s shoulder, stifling his giggles in the fabric of Damen’s sweater.

“I just… this whole time?”

“Yes.”

When Laurent pulled back, he was met with the softest look he’d ever seen on Damen’s face. It was almost unbearable. And yet, he could bear it. For Damen, he would.

Laurent leaned in for another kiss. “Six years, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” Damen murmured against his lips.

“I guess we have lots of lost time to make up for,” Laurent smirked, and grabbed Damen’s hand.

“We are both way too drunk to have coordinated sex right now,” Damen warned, and Laurent laughed.

“Not sex,” Laurent said, and took back his spot in front of the couch. “We’re playing the questions game again, and this time you don’t get to evade. I need some answers, starting with a detailed explanation of when exactly you started to like me as more than a friend.”

The wicked yet playful look on Laurent’s face made Damen groan.

This was going to be a long night. Somehow, Damen couldn’t find it within himself to care.

Read this on AO3.

#captive prince #my writing #hi blue thank you so much for requesting this im sorry it took me so long omg #much love forever and always you're the best <3 #ask #i kinda got carried away writing this bc i miss my gf HAH

[nohoney]

Tell Me (When You’re Ready) 4.4

note: whoo finally back from a much needed break from the us series. went through a little bit of a lull where i had to step back and take some time apart from the series but i’m back again. this is something of an epilogue but also not? it essentially concludes part 4.

Us Series

warnings: 18+, drugs, toxic relationships, a bit of smut but nothing too descriptive

4.1 ✧ 4.2 ✧ 4.3 ✧ 4.4

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✧

It’s a cold autumn night when you finally say it, when you finally tell them but it’s also done as a backhand to someone.

You convinced yourself that you did it because it was time to say it, you have heard both confessions so you needed to say it back.

In truth… you said it to hurt someone but you felt it justified.

You’re not a needlessly cruel person, you can get a little snippy and sarcastic but you’re not particularly mean to anyone. You’re too nice sometimes, stretching your patience out for certain people that took advantage of your kindness and that actually includes Touya but you have a strong relationship going so of course you let it slide with him. The point is, in general you’re just a decent person that doesn’t feel it’s necessary to put negative energy out in the world.

But you make an exception just this one time.

You just had to show her because clearly she wasn’t getting the hint.

Oh hell, who were you kidding?

They weren’t hints, Touya was literally telling the bitch to fuck off.

“The fucking cunt tried to force my zipper down so she could suck me off, almost had to knock her ass out when she wouldn’t get off me the last time.” Touya is pressing an ice pack to his cheek and glaring out into the view of his balcony, a cigarette in his free hand. You stand inside the apartment, the screen door shut but the sliding glass door leaves just a crack so that you can still talk to him, not wanting to breathe the smell of cigarettes directly. Keigo stands behind you with his arms looped around your waist, also apart of the conversation.

“And what, she smacked you afterwards when you pushed her off?” you ask as you lean your weight against Keigo.

“Of fucking course, you think I’m holding this thing to my face for fun?” Touya snaps at you before taking another drag.

Keigo squeezes his arms around you when you tense up, a silent signal for you to let Touya’s attitude slide. Understandably he’s pissed but you take it personal when he gets annoyed like this, like you feel like it’s your fault even though you had done nothing wrong. But Keigo reassures you by leaning down to whisper in your ear, makes it look like he’s just giving you a kiss to your temple, tells you to just let him be upset for the time being.

An eightball sits on the table, a little crumpled in its little baggy but otherwise not a drop was spilled when Touya snagged it back from Mai.

Touya’s whole body tense, his jaw is clenched, foot tapping repeatedly, and eyebrows pinched in annoyance. He’s muttering to himself, “Shoulda’ just cut the bitch off…”

You don’t really like to be around Touya when he’s tense like this, you’ve tried to calm him down a few times but sometimes he’s just too much for you to handle. So you let Keigo take the reigns and step away to go to the bedroom to give them some space. Touya’s still too pissed but he does utter out a quiet ‘alright doll’ in acknowledgement while Keigo kisses your cheek before joining Touya outside on the balcony. It’s best that Keigo help Touya cool down, more likely they’d both come to you when the mood was better.

And as you go into the bedroom and shimmy out of the pants you wore today, Touya’s phone vibrates on the nightstand. One notification… two notifications… three— wait it’s, four.

“Geez, who’s blowing up his phone?” you ask yourself quietly before picking up his cell. You unlock the preview screen of the phone, knowing Touya’s password since he gave it to you, and you sigh when two more notifications pop up. And it’s all from the same person, the whore that Touya decided to drop not too long ago. Mai’s sending message after message, apology texts for forcing herself on him. Pleas to not cut her off from the coke she’s come to rely on to get her through some rough days, his is the best and she won’t settle for anything that’s not his anymore. Desperate texts about cocaine then shift to her trying to reel him back to the arrangement they had before. You can’t help but frown that Mai is uselessly trying to seduce your boyfriend back into fucking her.

“C’mon, he already made it clear he doesn’t want you anymore.” you mutter to yourself as you look over the messages. “Fucking bitch…”

Very unlike you to use those kinds of words, Touya is rubbing off on you.

Keigo’s admitted to you in secret that Touya is coming pretty close to blowing his lid with this chick. And with what happened today, you wouldn’t be surprised if something was done about it. Touya obviously wasn’t going to go back, this is the first time in the relationship that he’s officially winding down the list of girls he still keeps to fuck, finally choosing one and tossing her out the window so that he can eventually just focus on you.

It’s annoying and a little hurtful still that after a year Touya is just now finally starting to get rid of the whores, but it strangely makes you happy at the same time knowing that he’s finally done it. You wish you knew the reason why Touya still bothered with them but he’s made it up to you, promised you that you’re his number one and that no one else means as much to him as you do. And what can you do but believe him, doing what he says and what he wants because you honestly don’t want to be without him either. Your body still tingles at the quiet murmur of Touya finally telling you he loves you when he thought you were fast asleep. Keigo’s own bold confession also brings a smile to your face and you think how much you love them.

Ding!

You frown at the notification.

It’s a nude.

You set down Touya’s phone and try to calm your nerves.

His phone notifications are suffocating and you don’t want to be in the apartment anymore, you feel like there’s something important you have to do. So you march out of the bedroom and head towards the sliding door, peeking your head out just a tad. “Hey, I’m gonna head back to my place okay?” you tell them, your heart beating a little fast in your chest and trying not to appear antsy. You can’t help thinking that what you need to do has to be done right away, that you might as well strike while the iron is hot. You have an excuse ready to use when Touya asks why but it lies useless on your tongue instead.

“No, stay here.” Touya commands without looking at you.

“But Touya, I really need-” you try to plead with him but you’re cut off once again as he says no once more. And normally you’d listen after the second time, especially considering the mood he’s in, but you’ve got adrenaline pumping in your veins and a mission on your mind that you just have to get done. “Touya, just let me-”

He doesn’t want to hear anymore, when Touya says that you stay, you stay. He pushes the sliding door open too hard, the glass rattling and startling you. He flicked the cigarette he was smoking over the railing, that same hand holding your jaw and squishing your cheeks a little roughly. Cigarette smoke lingers on his fingers as he holds you still, so close to your nostrils and you whine from it. You instantly cower and the adrenaline of determination is replaced with apprehension. You don’t like Touya’s temper, whether he’s directing it at someone else or you.

“Touya, be gentle.” Keigo says from his spot on the balcony, standing a little straighter and ready to get in between if needed.

“When I say stay, you stay. Understand?”

There’s no arguing with Touya, not when he’s got such an angry look in his eyes.

All you can do is nod your head and look down in submission. Never mind the reason why you were so eager to leave, that essentially you were being told to stay here without your permission, but in your mind you excused it. Whatever you wanted to do, it could wait, that it was better that you think about it first instead of just recklessly jumping into it. Touya was doing you a favor telling you to stay at his place without him ever knowing it.

Oh how everything Touya did change your thinking now, considering him more than your own feelings. But you think it’s okay, it’s okay because you love him and you understand him, loving someone means understanding the rough patches of who they are and knowing underneath that the things they do sometimes they don’t always mean it. You have to understand it and love it, even if it means letting your cheeks hurt from the way his fingers gripped into the tender flesh.

“I’m sorry Touya…” you whimper pitifully and look up at him.

Touya regards you quietly for a moment before telling you, “Go take a nap.”

He releases your face from his hold but it’s not gentle how he pushes you away, it almost makes your eyes water and that’s when Keigo steps in to smooth over everything.

“C’mon songbird, I’ll tuck you in alright?” Keigo’s leading you to the bedroom and gently shutting the door behind him. Touya should be the one reprimanded for treating you a little roughly but instead Keigo tuts gently at you as he brings you into a hug, “Baby, you know better than to test Touya like that. What’s gotten into you?”

Your shoulders sag in his embrace but you return it nonetheless. “I… don’t know. I’m sorry…”

His hand rubs your back soothingly and he kisses the top of your head, Keigo’s comfort easing you just a little bit. But even as he reassures you with sweet words and to just let what happened with Touya slide for now, you still think of what you were planning to do earlier if you hadn’t been commanded to stay here at the apartment. It would have to wait until you were out next time with neither of the boys with you.

And you think to yourself how much you love them, the echoes of their confessions making your heart bloom in your chest and the messages from Mai solidifying what you had to do for yourself.

It’s something you’d never done before, would never consider under the circumstances you’re putting yourself under but you needed to make a point.

Yumi is hosting another party at her house and you ask her what time the party starts, just like last time that she invited you but lets you know that your boys are welcome to come as well even though she’d like it to be just you. There’s a little bit of disappoint in her voice when you tell her Keigo and Touya will arrive with you, obviously wanting you to come alone so that she could have time with you, but you swear that you’ll treat her to brunch next time and it will be just the two of you. She seems accepting of it and cheers up at your proposal and then hints that she would like to re-up if Touya is going to attend anyway.

Touya comes into the bedroom after an hour and presses a kiss to your temple when you sit up against the headboard and asking how you feel. He doesn’t offer an apology from before, not that you were expecting it from him anyway, but he throws in ‘babydoll’ when he speaks to you, that subtle way of letting you know that he is trying to make up with you from before.

“Hey, let’s go to a party this weekend.”

“Don’t know if I’ll feel like it…”

He says he’s not in the mood but it swings in your favor when you pout at him and give him sad eyes, giving in simply because of what happened before. He’s not a social person, that much is apparent, but he’ll let himself be towed around by you if you’ll make it worth his time later on. And Keigo will be there alongside too to offset him, he’s very much included in what you plot in your mind.

And if you know the boys as well as you think you do, they’ll fall exactly into place where and when you need them.

You didn’t want to seem hasty by the time you arrived to the house, quickly greeting Yumi and a few other friends you haven’t seen in a while when you walk through the door. Keigo fits in naturally with the crowd while Touya remains standoffish with a disinterested gaze. He holds a beer in his hand and has an arm slung over your shoulders, not really used to being at a gathering and not conducting business.

He hates it but he at least came for you.

Yumi confirms for you that Mai is around and offers to act as a buffer if she were to come within vicinity of you, which you politely decline and say that you can handle it.

It does require a bit of liquid courage, a few shots of liquor to dull your nerves and seek her out.

Not that you had to look very far anyway.

Mai kept a respectable distance watching you and Touya from afar.

So she’s surprised when you approach her, your glazed eyes that tell her that you’re just a little drunk, that it hides the truth that you know why she’s bitter and directing it towards you. That it already hurt to know you were chosen by the man she still wanted but to see it right there in front of her was salt in her wound. But you told her that you could soothe her, that it doesn’t have to be like this, if she really wants back in then just play nice with you and maybe he would reconsider her again.

You instill a hope that maybe she can be able to reach out to Touya again, that in the way Keigo and Touya share you, that you’re willing to share him with her.

So you kiss her, your first kiss with a girl, a girl that hates you but cups your cheek as she leans into the kiss.

A girl who’s feelings you’re about to crush.

Touya and Keigo always have eyes on you, you know that ever since that party where you mixed for the first time and ran off, they don’t let you stray very far. Surprised doesn’t even begin to describe their shock when they find you lip locked with Mai, with the first whore that Touya decided to drop and was trying to get away from. So he approaches and turns your head towards him, his voice low as he asks you, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Makin’ out, s’okay yeah?” your words are a little slurred but you reach one hand to his shirt to pull him closer. “Make out with us baby?”

A beat of consideration.

Even Mai waits apprehensively but you have no worries because you know that Touya will say…

“Room, now.”

Keigo naturally falls in too, the four of you led up to Mai’s room in the house, heavy breaths and little moans from her that grate on your ears. You push it out of your mind that she’s made those sounds for Touya before you came along, been on his dick after buying buying a gram or two off him, but that she won’t be around again. It occurs to you that possibly what you’re about to do might piss off Yumi because this will definitely go around and you might potentially lose her as a friend but…

This is more important.

It annoys you a little too much how Keigo kisses Mai, seems a little too comfortable with his hands going up her shirt while Touya’s sucking a bruise onto your neck. Unlike Touya, he’s been faithful this entire time so it irks you to see your other boyfriend kiss her with just a bit too much energy. It bothers you but you know that you’ll get his attention with just a call of his name, “Keigo… Kei… kiss me.”

So he does, still groping at Mai while he leans towards you and tenderly presses his lips to yours. Under the impression that you were switching off to Keigo, Mai attempts to make her way towards Touya but you pull him towards you before he can even turn his head towards her when she whines out, “Dabi…”

Dabi… it’s almost foreign to you that a few months ago that’s what you called him.

No one else would ever get that privilege.

It’s just you that gets it.

Just you and them.

Us.

And it slips out earlier than you had expected but it falls naturally, “I love you…”

It stuns them for a moment but the boys know that they don’t have to fight over who you said it to because it was meant for the both of them.

It stuns Mai too, caught off guard to be apart of an intimate moment. To witness how Touya utters his own devotion to you, kissing you deeply and pushing her away and she knows that you set her up to look like a fool when you peak your eye at her with intention. And it’s not just one person you say it too, Keigo voicing it aloud as well and leans in to have his turn while she still stands stunned. It’s the most cruel thing you’ve ever done to someone else, right there in their own space too where she sleeps, reads, and does god knows what.

She gets the picture now.

Back off.

If you really wanted to be even more cruel and drive a stake through her heart, you’d kick her out her own room and let the boys have their way with you in that moment, you know she wouldn’t be able to overwhelm all three of you. You mildly entertained the thought of tainting the space that belongs to her and tarnish it even further with your bodies on her bed.

But you’re not looking to do that, you just needed to let Mai know that she would never get Touya back.

Well not that she ever had him in the first place but the message was sent regardless.

“Wanna be in our bed.” you whine to them.

No further instructions needed, you leave the party with a quick goodbye to Yumi who gives you a questioning look when she sees you coming from the bedroom hallway but says that she’ll see you later.

Keigo’s place is the closest to reach and it’s all a blur as you’re undressed by both boys and push you on the bed. You’re not quite certain where your body starts and theirs end when they join you, but they fuck you with a sentiment that was completely different than all the other times before. Better than the first threesome, better than when you all rolled together to fuck, it felt different and it felt right.

“Love you, fuck I love you.” Keigo hisses behind you, one hand coming up to hold your throat while the other pets your clit.

“Fuckin’ love you…” Touya whispers, his nails digging light crescent marks into your skin as you squeeze around him.

It was always in the atmosphere but unsaid, not until everyone was ready to voice it out loud.

And you were finally ready to say it back.

“I love you.”

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #tw toxic relationship #us series

[waka-chan-out]

Ballroom Dancing

(Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader)

I wrote a Tsukishima dance fic and I’m here to make it everyone’s problem

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 4.4k

content warning: SMUT, semi-public sex, degredation, taunting because he’s a little shit, brat!reader, oral (m. recieving), hair pulling, fingering, alcohol consumption (nothing crazy), slight orgasm denial, light choking

also featuring: kuroo and kenma

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” you said, turning into your friend as you scanned the huge ballroom.

“What do you mean? You look great.”

“I know I look great, Tetsu, but I still feel ridiculous.”

“Why? Once you start dancing you’ll feel better.”

“Whatever you say. Please dance with me first or I will combust.”

“As you wish,” Kuroo said with a laugh. You moved towards him as he took your hand, starting to move you around the room. The other couples on the dance floor were pressed against each other, hands slipping down from their partner’s waists and faces leaning in close to whisper who knows what in each others ears. Kuroo held you respectfully, knowing that he dragged you here and you could run off at any moment if you felt like it. The music swelled, filling the ballroom with a beautiful hum. The room was huge and silver. A giant chandelier dangled from the ceiling and cast lovely shattered flecks of light all around the room.

You had practiced this dance so many times that you could go into autopilot and observe your surroundings without missing a beat. Kuroo spun you quickly as your eyes passed over the crowd. You recognized a few faces as Kuroo’s friends from college. Some of them he had known since high school. All of the friends of his you had met so far were fun. If they could put up with Kuroo they could put up with anything.

You saw Kenma in the crowd and cast him a smile. He held up a hand to greet you. You knew he’d find you later and talk your ear off, but there was no way you could get him in the middle of the room for a dance. He looked handsome in his tuxedo. He was never as strong as Kuroo, but he still filled it out nicely with his newfound confidence.

“Hey, Kei is here!” Kuroo said happily. You looked back at him with confusion. You knew the name, but he was one of Kuroo’s high school friends that you hadn’t met yet.

“Where?” you asked.

“Right next to Kenma. The blond.” You spun around again and looked over to where Kenma was. A giant loomed over him, his back to you. He had shaggy blond hair and looked relatively thin, but you could see muscle through his tight-fitting dress pants.

“Jesus, how tall is he?” you asked. “He looks huge compared to poor Kenma.” Kuroo laughed.

“He’s always been big. Last time we saw each other he said he was over 6’4 but who knows at this point.”  Your eyes widened.

Kuroo let out his hyena laugh in response and the blond - Kei, though you didn’t know his last name - turned at the clearly familiar sound. He wore a wide pair of glasses that framed serious eyes. His face was cold as he turned, but as soon as he saw Kuroo it softened into a smile. He held up a hand, long fingers twitching slightly in greeting. Kuroo’s hand left your waist, waving eagerly back at his friend.

“After this song let’s go say hi,” he said. You nodded, eyes still fixed on the man. His face settled into a slight smirk as he observed you, then turned back to Kenma, running a hand through his blond hair.

The song ended and you and Kuroo made your way to the edge of the ballroom, but the blond was nowhere to be found. Kenma greeted you with a hug and a shower of compliments. He had really come out of his shell since college.

“Where’d Kei get off to?” Kuroo asked.

“No idea,” Kenma said, glancing around. “He’s hard to miss, though. I’m sure you’ll find him easily enough.” He laughed. “I think he’s grown even more since we last saw him.”

“Are you serious? That’s hardly fair.”

“Agreed. No man deserves to be 6’5.” Six fucking five. It wasn’t often you ran into someone that could dwarf Kuroo. Jesus. You needed a drink.

“I’m heading to the bar, Tetsu,” you said. Kuroo nodded and waved you on, chatting happily with Kenma as you walked away.

Even the bar sparkled with silver. The man behind the counter wore red velvet, looking more like an employee at the Tower of Terror than a bartender.

“What can I get for you, love?” he asked.

“What can you make?”

“Absolutely anything you’d like.”

You laughed. “Can you make a mojito? Pineapple, if it’s possible.”

“Absolutely.” He turned and began to skillfully rifle through the selection of rum behind him.

“What are you, on vacation?” a voice asked behind you. You could almost hear the smirk in his words. You turned, immediately having to look higher up than you thought you would. Kuroo’s blond friend stood behind you with a sly smile on his face.

“Something wrong with my order?”

“I think the answer to that is pretty obvious,” he said, leaning on his elbows against the bar beside you, shrinking to your height. “Who orders pineapple at an event like this?”

“People who don’t give a shit about the snooty atmosphere.”

He cocked an eyebrow and looked away, watching the bartender make your drink. “Am I snooty, then?”

“I think the answer to that is pretty obvious.”

“I assure you, snooty I am not.”

The bartender set down your drink in front of you, plopping a cherry on top as he did so. “There you go,” he said cheerfully. “Whose tab will this be on?” He looked between you and the blond.

“I’m not paying for their little cocktail, thanks.” Kei shrugged and looked at you, that annoying smile still glinting in his eyes.

“I guess that’ll be mine, then. Put it under y/n. I’m definitely not done drinking tonight.” Your eyes met the his. He was looking at you with an unreadable expression, eyes glinting with something that looked like amusement. The bartender laughed and turned to the other man.

“Anything I can get you?” Kei let his eyes leave yours.

“Dry martini, please.” You laughed loudly and took a sip of your drink. The bartender began his order and the tall man looked at you.

“Something funny about my order, too?”

“A dry martini? Who are you, James Bond?”

“Tsukishima. Kei Tsukishima.” He smiled widely this time, clearly amused at your reaction.

“Y/n,” you replied, happy that he went along with the joke. The bartender set the martini down in front of Tsukishima. He picked it up and licked his lips, taking a sip without letting his eyes leave yours.

“Put this on their tab, as well,” he said.

“Excuse me?” you said, incredulous at his attitude.

“I’ll get the next.” He took another sip as the bartender walked off to deal with his other customers. “So, you Kuroo’s new partner?” The word fell from his mouth dripping with sarcasm. You choked out a laugh.

“Absolutely not. We’ve been friends since college.”

“College, huh? He ever mention me?”

“Yeah, actually. I’ve heard all about what a brat you are. He pegged you perfectly.”

Tsukishima smiled. “You think I’m being bratty?”

“You are absolutely being bratty. Don’t forget I’m paying for your drink.” His eyes kept on sparkling. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but the way he looked at you made it feel like he was seeing straight into your thoughts.

“So.” He twirled the glass in his hand. God, his hands were huge. “If Kuroo’s not your partner . . .”

“If I wasn’t here with Kuroo I’d be dancing alone.” He nodded, looking satisfied with your answer. He threw back the rest of his martini and gestured to your cup.

“Finish your drink,” he said, straightening up and towering over you again.

“Why?”

“We’re going to dance, dumbass.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. He mirrored your expression and nodded at your glass. “Finish it or I’ll finish it for you.”

You glared up at him, pulling the cherry out by the stem and tipping the drink back, swigging the last bit of bitterness. You popped the cherry in your mouth and flicked the stem into Tsuki’s empty glass. He smirked and made his way through the crowd. You followed, head a bit hazy from chugging your drink so quickly.

He made it to the edge of the dance floor right as the next song began playing. He turned and held out a hand to you. His fingers were long and well-manicured. You raised your eyebrows with as much attitude as you could muster, taking his hand. He smiled. His hand was soft and a little cold. He pulled you onto the dance floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand settled on your hip, long fingers splaying out and digging into your side. It was almost possessive. This close he smelled like basil soap and something musky that made your head spin as he gracefully sidestepped and led you around the room.

For such a tall man, he was a remarkably good dancer. His movements were precise and sure, leading you better than even Kuroo did. When he moved his arms you could see his jacket strain slightly. He wasn’t a thick man by any means, but what he had was all muscle. His eyes didn’t leave yours as you danced, intense gaze making you antsy but determined not to look away first.

“I didn’t mention this before but your dress is lovely.” His gaze trained down your body as he spoke.

“What, are you being nice now?” you asked.

“I can be mean if you’d like.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” His eyes darkened.

“Try me.”

“You sure?”

You shrugged. His hand slid along to the small of your back and he dipped you. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you back up, face suddenly serious. He looked around the room.

“Do you know how much attention you’re drawing to yourself with that neckline?”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?” He leaned down, very close to your ear. You got goosebumps as he spoke.

“I’m saying your dress makes you look a little slutty.” You drew your head away from him. He perked back up and smiled at your shock. “I thought you wanted me to be mean.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to diss my dress.”

He shrugged and dug his fingers into your side, pulling your hips flush against him. “I never said I didn’t like it.”

Your face felt suddenly hot. He grinned.

“You’re a pretty little thing when you’re flustered,” he said.

“Keep talking and those dress pants aren’t going to be able to hide how pretty you think I am.” His eyebrows shot up, this time in genuine surprise. You smiled. He clearly wasn’t used to encountering people willing to taunt him back. He looked away for a moment and regained his composure.

“Why would I try to hide that?”

“You seem the private type. I figured a broom closet or bathroom stall would better suit your taste.” His smile darkened.

“Done.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Too late. He was already pulling you off of the still swirling dance floor.

He led you past the bar and down a hall, clearly familiar with the terrain. The hallway was littered with doors, but he led you to one of the very last ones. He threw open the door and pulled you inside. The room was mid-sized but cramped. There were chairs lining the table. The walls looked strangely soft, like it was soundproofed for privacy’s sake. There was a window on one side. Moonlight streamed through the half-shut blinds, giving the room a cold glow.

Tsukishima wasted no time in locking the door and taking you by the hips, pushing you against the wall.

“You’re a testy one, aren’t you?” he growled, gripping the fabric of your dress tightly.

“I try to be,” you replied, hand finding its way into his hair and pulling him down to your lips. He kissed you hungrily. His lips were soft and angry, attitude apparent even in how his tongue slipped into your mouth. He was teasing you without words, daring you to push back. You obliged, biting down lightly on his bottom lip. He let out a small sound and pushed harder against you. He separated from you and began to trail aggressive kisses down your neck.

“If you’re going to be smart with your mouth I’ll give you something else to do with it,” he breathed against you. You shivered.

“You’re all talk so far,” you sighed. “If you’re going to do it, do it.” You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your shoulder.

“Naughty thing,” he murmured. His hands trailed up your body, finding your face. He held your cheeks and smiled. He ran a finger across your bottom lip. “Why don’t you show me what else those pretty lips can do?” You said nothing but grabbed his belt all the same, staring him in the eyes with a smug expression on your face. Once his dress pants were undone you sunk to your knees in front of him. He inhaled sharply at your compliance.

He was hard already at the way you kissed him. You wasted no time pulling down his boxers and taking him all the way into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he hit the back of your throat. He covered his mouth with his hand, seemingly more out of restraint than to actually hold back any noise. You continued moving your head, tongue sliding over the head of his cock. It didn’t take long to figure out that drove him crazy. His groans raised in pitch the more you took advantage of how sensitive he was. You wrapped a hand around him and swirled your tongue around his head. He let out what was almost a whimper and grabbed your hair, gripping it so tightly it made your eyes water. You sped up, eliciting similar sounds from him.

“Mother . . . fucker,” he groaned in a whisper, hand moving from deep in your hair to your forehead, his touch nearly a caress. You slowed your pace at his enthusiasm and his breathing hitched.

“Fuck. Don’t do that.” You hummed in amusement, the vibrations causing him to tip his head back. You sped up again. Just as he began whimpering you slowed again. His second hand found your hair this time, both tugging tightly.

“One more time and I -- fuck.” He tipped his forehead forward against the wall as you quickened your pace again. You felt him twitch in your mouth and knew he was close.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck.” He spat out his words, rocking his hips a bit to the pace you set. “Oh, fuck.” His swearing raised in pitch. He was so close. “I --” You pulled off of him completely and looked up at him. His eyes were shut tight. His hips bucked and he let out a horrible little whimper. His breathing was irregular as he repeated the word “fuck” over and over again, to himself and to you. The haze of his denied orgasm began to fade and he looked down at you with deadly serious eyes.

“I’m not playing that fucking game.” He tugged on your hair, pulling you into a standing position. It hurt in the best way, especially satisfying now that he was so riled up. He whirled you around and pinned you against the table. He lifted your hips so that you were seated and began pushing your dress up, hands lost in the mess of skirts.

“You don’t get to pull some shit like that and think you’re getting away with it.” His hands slid up your thighs and pushed them apart. You shivered. His long fingers found the lace of your undergarments.

“Slutty under here too. I should have expected that.” He pressed his fingers against you through the cloth, making you inhale sharply in anticipation. “Oh well,” he chuckled. “These just make it easier for me.” He pushed the fabric aside and slipped a single long finger inside of you. You gasped and your brows furrowed. He mirrored your expression like he was taunting you.

“So wet just from sucking my cock.” He whispered the words like he almost didn’t want you to hear the taunt. He pushed a second finger into you. You breathed out hard, suppressing a noise. He chuckled.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to act all shy now,” he said. His fingers curled and you let a moan escape. “There we are.” His smirk returned to his face. He repeated the motion. You felt your core tightening, forcing your back to arch up against him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re pretty when you’re all wound up. Too bad you’re such a whore. You let guys do this to you often? Whisk you into a dark room and have their way with you?” You shook your head. He laughed lightly, curling his fingers again. You moaned, gripping his shoulders tightly. “I like your honesty. I guess you’re only a slut for me.”

His pace inside you was steady and his gaze was intense. You knew you were close but if you told him that he’d probably pull away just you did to him. Your eyes shut tightly, hand finding his hair and tugging. You swore and he pulled his hand away. Though you were expecting the motion, it didn’t stop your thighs from closing tightly, begging for the contact that was no longer there. He slipped his fingers into his mouth so casually it made you gasp. He popped them out after a moment and ran his messy hand through his hair.

“Sorry to torture you back,” he said, pushing your legs apart again and pulling your hips closer to the edge of the table. “But when you come I want it to be on my cock.” He slipped his dress pants down again and tugged the lace off of your legs. He ground his hips forward, rubbing against you. Your breathing hitched and he laughed.

“So needy for me. What would you do if I just walked out?” You glared up at him and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him close.

“Not letting me go, huh? Don’t have to tell me twice.” He pushed inside of you slowly, brows furrowing and eyes fluttering closed as he did so. You both swore as he buried himself inside of you. He was big, but it didn’t hurt. You wiggled your hips a little, wishing he would move. He chuckled at your efforts.

“You want me to hurry up? You’re gonna have to ask nicely.” You glared up at him.

“Please,” you muttered.

His brows shot up.

“Please what?”

“Please move already, you stubborn fuck.”

He laughed in surprise.

“So dirty. You asked nicely though, so . . .” He drew his hips back and drove back into you. You let out a sigh. He grabbed the back of your neck with his huge hand and pulled you forward into a kiss as he continued moving. His swearing and your moans got lost in the kiss as he set a faster pace. He pulled away from your lips, leaving his forehead leaning against yours.

“Fuck.” He choked on a groan as he spoke. “You make such pretty sounds. Did your drink make you this honest or is it my cock?” You buried a fist in his hair and pulled. He let out an unexpectedly loud sound at the motion. He stared down at you, eyes on fire.

“Shut the fuck up,” you breathed. He grinned and pulled you in for another kiss, this one much more desperate. His hand trailed up your neck, squeezing lightly as he did. You tipped into his palm but it kept traveling upwards. It stopped along your jaw, thumb slipping up to separate your kiss. He slipped it into your mouth. He swore as you eagerly sucked in the finger, staring him in the eye. He smiled and pulled it back, returning his lips to yours. His hand slipped down between your legs, using the thumb that had been in your mouth to trace a circle on your clit. You gasped and moved away from the kiss. He caught your head with his other hand, keeping you close to him as he continued the snap of his hips and the motion of his finger.

“Fuck, Tsukishima.” He sped up the pace of his hand.

“Say that again.” He sounded desperate, leaning his head into your shoulder.

“Tsukki . . .” you trailed off before you could say anything else, lost in the feeling of him. He let out what sounded like a growl at the sound of his name.

“Fuck,” he said. It was almost pathetic how messy he sounded. You buried your hand in his hair again, tugging slightly.

“Tsukki, please.”

He let out a shaky sound. He picked his head up and laid a quick kiss on you.

“Come with me. Please,” he said. You nodded and your head tipped back. He began swearing under his breath, words bleeding together into a mess of desperation.

“Fuck, Tsukki,” you moaned, body tensing as you came. At the feeling and sight of you finishing he quickly followed, pulling out of you but leaving his thumb moving to carry you through your orgasm. Your faces pressed against each other, both breathing hard. You felt him twitching against you as he came. He might have gotten on your dress, but that was the last thing on your mind.

His sweaty face buried into the crook of your neck and his arms slipped around your waist, holding you close to him. Your shaky hands found their way into his hair, running your fingers gently through the mess. It felt good to just hold him as you both caught your breath, his strong chest rising and falling against you. He withdrew slightly and placed a gentle, sloppy kiss on your lips before letting out a laugh. You did the same, smiling up at his face. You hadn’t even noticed, but he was still wearing his glasses. They were fogged up from leaning against you.

“You’re pretty,” you said, pushing the frames up into his hair and pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips. When you pulled away his face was red.

“Don’t just say shit like that,” he muttered.

“Aw, who’s flustered now?” You laughed as his face twisted into a frown. He put his glasses back on properly and peeled himself away from you.

“We really should get back,” he said, tugging his pants back up and redoing his belt. You nodded but were unsure what to do about the problem he had left all over your thighs. He saw you hesitating and laughed when he realized what you were thinking.

“Here,” he said, picking up your underwear and approaching. You looked at him in confusion before he used them to clean you off and slipped them into the inside pocket of his jacket. He noticed you staring in horror and laughed.

“I have to give them back at some point now,” he smirked. “Guess you’ll have to see me again.” You rolled your eyes in amusement as you rearranged your dress and tried your best to fix your hair. He was having trouble with his since the rim around his face was coated with sweat. You tried your best to help him. He stared at you with a gentle smile as you worked. You pretended not to notice.

“I think it’s best if we go out one at a time,” he said. You nodded and he approached the door, turning to face you before he left. “Do I look like I just fucked someone in a dark room?” You grinned and shook your head.

“You look fine.”

“You look great, too,” he said with a small smile. He left the room and left you alone, waiting impatiently to go. When it had been long enough you slipped the door open and walked out, shakier on your feet than you’d like to be.

You immediately went to the bar, asking for a shot of tequila. Anything to soothe your nerves. You took it quickly and shook your head. You were fine. You just needed to make sure you got Tsukki’s number from Kuroo.

“Y/n! Jesus, there you are.” Speak of the devil. You turned to face Kuroo as he approached, Kenma and a disheveled looking Tsukishima in tow. He looked flushed. His hair was still messy and a little sweaty despite his best efforts. Your eyes widened with pride when you saw him looking so fucked. You smiled at Kuroo.

“Sorry, I went wandering.”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Got lost.”

“Of course you did. I wanted you to meet my friends.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. This is Tsukishima Kei. We knew each other in high school. We were volleyball rivals.” Kuroo looked proud as he explained. “I taught him everything he knows.”

“Oh, I’m sure not everything,” you said, turning to Tsukki. His eyebrows raised at your borderline suggestive comment. He reached out to shake your hand with the same hand that had been buried in you not long ago.

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n,” he said through a smile.

“They haven’t said their name,” Kenma said, frowning. Tsukki’s eyes widened before setting into a more sure expression.

“Kuroo mentioned them earlier.”

“Uh-huh . . .” Kenma still looked suspicious. Kuroo didn’t seem to notice, slapping Tsukkishima on the shoulder and starting to talk about the ‘good old days’. Whenever Kuroo turned to address Kenma, Kei’s eyes found yours, smiling very slightly so the other men didn’t notice. You didn’t contribute much to the conversation, quietly observing the huge man in his well-fitting tuxedo.

“Oh shit, y/n,” he said suddenly, cutting off the conversation. “I think you spilled something on your dress.” Your face flushed and eyes widened. Panicked and annoyed, you looked down at your dress.  Sure enough, about halfway down the skirt, there was a patch of what thankfully looked like nothing but a spilled drink at the moment.

“God. I’m clumsy. Not surprised that I ruined my nicest dress.” You laughed it off as the three men stared at you, Tsukki with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, it doesn’t look that bad. I’m sure your dress is fine,” Kuroo said.

“Nope,” you said, glancing up at Tsukki. “Definitely ruined.”

#tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima x you

[kyotarou]

practicality

Inspired by @iwaixiumi-main on Tumblr! (using your quirk for the first time headcanons)

characters: katsuki bakugou

plot: you’ve only used your quirk in front of your friends for fun little tricks, but never at its full potential. your classmates witness this for the first time when katuski bakugou hits a nerve.

warnings: swearing, angst, dedgration (not sexual), kind of a fluffy ending

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: i apologize for making kirishima the secondary love interest that gets thrown away at the end for the second time 💀💀 i promise i’ll write smt just for him 😩

Your Quirk: You have the ability to control any water around you. When under your control, the water can become as strong as iron (you determine the strength). The downside: the more you use, the heavier it feels—use too much and you could injure yourself from the weight (possibly even crushing yourself).

   Your classmates had seen your Quirk in action many times before, mainly for fun, but never during combat. You knew water wasn’t accessible in every situation, so you stuck with fist to fist action. After exam season, it surprised you to find your name on the list of students with top scores, especially on the combat portion since you barely used your Quirk. Nevertheless, a large weight was lifted from your shoulders.

     Denki and Kirishima invited all of Class 1-A to the beach to celebrate. You brought your bag inside one of the stalls, taking your sweet time to change. It was the weekend, after all, no need to rush. Worn out from exams, you planned on using the day to relax, unlike your classmates who buzzed with energy. Your plan was foiled when Kirishima caught you tiptoeing out the changing stall, hoping no one would spot you.

     “Hey hey hey, (Y/N)!” Kirishima slung his arm around your shoulders. “You ready to hit the waves with us? Maybe you can finally show us your Quirk!”

     You shook your head with a small laugh. “Come on, Kiri, you’ve seen it before.”

     Kirishima led you towards the shore. “Yeah, yeah, but I wanna see how manly it can be!”

     You pushed him off with another laugh which turned into a scream when he shoved you into the water. “Oh, you are not getting away with that!” 

     As Kirishima tried to run, tendrils of water wrapped around his ankles, keeping him grounded. He tried using his Quirk to escape, but you were stronger. You and Kiri spent the next few minutes stuck in a splash battle, which gained the attention of the others. Though you wanted good old-fashioned fun without your Quirk, the rest of the class encouraged you to show your best tricks, and their jubilant faces made it hard to refuse. You sent waves crashing at their feet to see who could run away the fastest, played volleyball with a bubble of water with Uraraka, and even swam out to the deeper parts of the beach with Kiri who was starstruck when you created air bubbles around your heads, letting you safely view the fish that swam by. 

     On the shore, Bakugou watched with steam coming out his ears. He gritted his teeth as you and Kirishima sat beside him at the picnic table, Kiri’s arm wrapped around your shivering body as the sun began to set. Jealousy nipped at his skin like harsh bug bites.

   Why should I give a fuck? Not like I’m into them or anything.

   But he knew damn well he wanted it to be his arms around you and the one to brush the wet hair out of your face instead of stupid Kiri. He glared at you and the red-haired boy, him feeding you a piece of sushi like a baby.

     “Brrr, the airplane’s coming, open wide!”

     “Dammit, Kiri! Just give it to me already.”

     You twirled your finger and a stream of water flew into Kiri’s nose. Bakugou rolled his eyes as you doubled over in laughter, chin resting in his palm.

     “Tch, couldn’t use your Quirk for something useful?”

     You shrugged. “I’d say this is pretty useful.” You stuffed a piece of sushi from Kiri’s plate into your mouth as he wiped the snot from his face.

     “You’re an idiot. Just cause you can do cool shit with it doesn’t make you the shit.”

     You gave Bakugou an awkward smile, who kept his eyes glued to the table. The rest of the class went quiet. His taunts were usually followed by a scoff or chuckle, but his voice was sharp and cold.

     “Never said I was. Not my fault everyone thinks it’s cool, right guys?” Your classmates chimed in agreement. 

     Bakugou snorted. “So why didn’t you use it during exams? Why don’t you use it for something better than shitty party tricks? Don’t you want to be a hero? How can you do that when you’re too afraid to use it against a real opponent?”

     “I-I’m not afraid!” Your cheeks burned with the anger bubbling in your stomach. “It’s just not practical!”

     “Not practical, my ass. Admit it, dumbass, you bribed your way up the class rankings, didn’t you?” 

     Kiri looked between the two of you nervously. “H-Hey man, I think that’s enough. Let’s all calm down and have some fun, alright?”

     “Shut up, Kiri! This isn’t about you!” Bakugou snarled. What the hell was he saying? Even if he refused to acknowledge his feelings, you were his crush—he let his mouth talk without thinking and there was no going back. He was letting his explosive attitude get the best of him and part of him felt relieved to blow off some steam.

     The table shook as you shot out of your seat, your clenched fists shaking at your sides and furious tears streaming down your face. 

��    “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

     The class murmured as ocean water climbed slowly up the sand, dangerously close to where they set up the barbecue. “You know I studied so hard for those exams. Don’t you remember all those nights I spent awake in the middle of the night? Shitty party tricks, is that all I am to you?”

     The water rose like a cape above your shoulders, casting a dark shadow over your wrathful face. Your arms trembled under the weight, but the adrenaline ignored the pain. Kiri scurried from the table, leaving Bakugou to stare at the ominous wave blocking the last of the sun’s golden rays from view. It truly did look like an iron wall, so close to crashing down and crushing him underneath. Bakugou set off an explosion as the wave stopped inches from his neck in the shape of a spear, the tip sharp enough to slice his skin.

     “Is this practical enough for you?” you sobbed. You sank to your knees and covered your tear stricken face. The water retreated to the ocean, leaving everyone untouched, except the poor table, now charred from Bakugou’s hand. Sniffling, you snatched your bag from the sand and excused yourself before slamming the door of the changing stall. After getting dressed, you declined Uraraka and Deku’s offer to accompany you to Heights Alliance. With the mood now sour, Class-1A packed and cleaned the area before heading home in tense silence. 

     Bakugou couldn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling with a frown, hands clasped together on his stomach. He cared about you so much, but he let his stupid jealousy consume him. Now, you would probably be angry with him for the rest of your life, and Bakugou couldn’t live with that. Seeing you walk away with your head down and wiping your tears shattered his heart. You were the one for him and he fucked it up like he always did.

   He jumped from his bed with a pounding heart. He slipped on his shoes, which were on the wrong feet, and left his dorm.

     What the hell am I doing? 

     Bakugou pounded on your door. He couldn’t care less if the whole building woke up—he had to see you. He was never one to share his feelings, but with you in mind at that moment, there was nothing more he wanted to do. Bakugou pounded on your door again, tempted to blow it down if you didn’t wake up. To his surprise, you answered with a scowl and puffy eyes. 

   “What the fuck do you want?”

     You swore your ribs almost caved in when his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body fervently. Bakugou kept his hand on your head as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet, comforting scent.

     “I’m sorry…” he murmured. His grip tightened when you tried to push him off.

     “Is that all you have to say?” you hissed. Your voice shook at the foreign feeling of his warmth, making you wonder if it was someone else disguised as him.

     “No, it’s not.” Bakugou cupped your face with both hands, heart beating a mile a minute as he stared into your eyes. “I like you id- (Y/N). I’ve always liked you, and I’m sorry.”

     You were paralyzed. Bakugou’s calloused thumb brushed a stray tear you didn’t even know had fallen from your face. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

     He… likes me?

     His words from earlier rushed back into your head. You tried to shake off his grasp. “What a great fucking way to show that.”

     “I know, I know. I didn’t mean any of it, you have to believe me. I was just… I was jealous, okay? I was fucking jealous of you and Kiri getting all buddy-buddy, and I said shit I shouldn’t have said.” Your eyes widened as he placed a tentative kiss between your brows. “You’re more than a party trick; you’re everything to me. And I can’t live with the idea of you hating me, cause I like you too much to handle that. Hell, I might even love you.”

     Your lip quivered at the sudden rush of emotions. You clung to the front of his shirt and pressed his face against his shoulder. “Do you really mean that?”

     “Hell yeah, I do. I-”

     You cut him off with a gentle kiss to the lips. “I like you, too, Katsuki. But what you said…”

     “You don’t have to forgive me right now. But you’re my world, my little teddy bear, and I just want to hold you. Is that too much to ask?”

     You shook your head. “It’s never too much to ask.”

#katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x y/n #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou fanfic #katsuki bakugo fanfic #bakugo fanfic #bakugou fanfic #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x y/n #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou

[americxn]

Run (part 4)

wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: alright, so this was meant to be smut but I didn’t want to ruin the pacing by moving on too quickly so think of this as a little filler to the story. part 5 will be out sometime tomorrow, and it’ll be a spicy one.

Kai allowed you to distance yourself from him and the rest of the cult in the week following Liam’s death. You knew that he felt absolutely terrible for what he had forced you to endure and although he hadn’t verbalised it in the time since you had been unleashed upon Liam, the little glances and tentative smiles he passed you whenever you returned to the house were all the confirmation you needed. Kai had been quiet, thoughtful almost. And you had let him, resorting to keeping yourself busy and out of the house during the day, sometimes even spending the night elsewhere, minimising the time that you usually spent with Kai. To be honest, your own feelings were all over the place and you often found yourself gnawing on your lip, deep in thought about Kai and what he had accidentally confessed to you: “Why the fuck would I kill someone I love?”  Maybe it would have been possible at one point, for you to love him. But you were angry, a sickening feeling of betrayal unfurling deep in your gut whenever you thought about him, about how he had chosen to believe a seventeen-year-old boy that he had know for two weeks, over you. Though, it was undeniable even to you that, throughout this inner conflict with yourself, Kai’s face spent far too much time occupying the front of your mind, each time you saw him, your brain emptying completely, Kai’s name being the only thought resonating throughout you.

Kai had let you take the week off attending cult meetings, and you knew that with each additional meeting you missed, his patience wore thinner and thinner, his guilt dissipating and giving way to irritation. And if there was one thing that you had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that Kai abandoned any sense of morals and restraint that he may have when pissed off. And so here you were, stood at the top of Kai’s stairs that would lead you to the basement. His deep voice was already echoing through the closed door to meet you. You sighed; you were late. Taking the stairs down to the door, your hand paused on the handle. The last time you had gone down these stairs was to take someone’s life.  You hastily pushed the thought aside, suppressing a shiver before pushing the door open and stepping into the room. Kai stood just before the little beige couch he usually took his spot of leader at, another cult member who you weren’t too familiar with sat to the side of him. Your spot at the other end of the couch was empty.  Kai paused as you entered, trying in vain to ignore the entirety of the cult sat on the floor before Kai, stretching the entire length of the room. He looked at you, his mouth still open in paused speech, his hands frozen in gesture in the air. You stared at him, willing your shoulders to remain pushed back ever so slightly, the gazes of everyone else in the room burning into you. “What?” You snapped, turning your head to address the other members who stared at you wide eyed. “You want me to bow or something?” You demanded in irritation. From across the room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed was Beverly, sporting a small smile at your unchanged attitude. A sea of heads turning hastily back to Kai was your only response, causing you to grind your teeth as you lowered yourself to the floor, crossing your legs under you. “No.” Kai said quietly. Your eyes flicked to his, watching as he extended a pointed finger to your old spot on the couch. “You sit here.” He demanded coolly, leaving no time for you to respond before he continued on with his speech, his gaze leaving yours. Several lips curled at this as Kai’s command crushed any hope that he would re-elect another member to take your place as his favoured follower. You stared with cold eyes out at the group upon reclaiming your rightful place beside Kai, a sense of cruel satisfaction filling you at the way a majority of the crowd cowered from your gaze, trying their best not to make eye-contact with you. The rest of the meeting passed slowly, dragging along until you had gone from perching on the couch straight-backed, to lounging against the soft surface, your head rested in your hand. You weren’t even listening to Kai’s dismissal, jolting in alert as everyone rose to leave. You moved to do the same, praying that Kai wouldn’t say anything to you and you would just be able to blend into the group filing out of the room. But of course, that was a fool’s hope. “Wait.” Kai said, looking to you as soon as you made a step to leave. “I want to talk.” You exhaled deeply, not feeling ready to talk to him yet. You swallowed your hesitation, forcing yourself to respond. “Yeah, sure.” The wariness filling your tone was obvious as you fell back down onto the couch, Kai waiting until everyone had left the room, the basement door slamming shut, before joining you. “How have you been?” He asked coolly, angling himself on the couch so that he faced you, his knees brushing yours. You hated the way the accidental touch momentarily emptied your mind, every nerve of your being surrendering to his close proximity. You swallowed.  “Yeah, I’ve been fine. I spent a few nights with friends and stuff... that’s why I haven’t really been here.” You shrugged, your words trailing off awkwardly. “You don’t need to explain yourself.” He interjected, causing your gaze to drop to your clasped hands on your lap. His own eyes followed yours, landing on your hands. He stared at them for a moment whilst his jaw worked, causing your skin to prickle beneath his scrutiny.  “Here.” He said, holding his pinky finger out to you. You cringed away, shaking your head. “Kai, I don’t -” “Well I do, take it.” You groaned quietly but lifted your arm to begrudgingly loop your pinky with his. “You know how this works so I won’t explain it again. I want to know what you’re feeling right now.” You sighed, glancing at him as his finger tightened around yours. His eyes searched yours with unflinching intensity, trying to sort through every glint of emotion that shone there. “I don’t really know how to feel.” You answered simply, shrugging. Kai shook his head. “No. It’s more than that. Tell me.” He said flatly. You tipped your head back at his unyielding tone, knowing full well that you weren’t leaving this room until Kai knew exactly where he stood with you. “I was angry. Obviously,” you began, breaking Kai’s scrutinising gaze to instead stare at your pinky entwined with his as you continued: “But now, I kinda just want it all to go back to normal. I killed someone Kai, the others aren’t going to forget that.” “Yes, but a sick part of you enjoys the power that gives you.” You cut him a silencing glare at his interjection, his words illuminating a truth that you had already come to know but tried to ignore. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve thought about it so much that it doesn’t really seem to matter anymore. But that’s not true; you hurt me Kai, you almost killed me.” Pain flashed across his face. Pain and understanding. But he stayed quiet, letting you verbalise your thoughts and organise them into some sort of coherence.  “For a while I thought I wanted to leave. I even thought you might let me.” You huffed a laugh at your own stupidity. “But then I realised that I wouldn’t want to leave even if I could. And it’s fucking sick of me, but I’m... for some reason, I wouldn’t want to distance myself from you anymore than I already have.” Kai’s frame went completely still beside you. You plowed on. “It’s like the moral... I don’t know, human, part of me is terrified of you, but some weird, primal part of me just wants to give myself over to you entirely.” At their verbalisation, your words seemed to come to grow into their full meaning, striking you with how starkly honest they were; your eyes prickled, a slight ache radiating from the back of your throat. “Like, I don’t know.” You mumbled, your chin beginning to wobble. You were aching to pull your pinky from his and cover your face with your hands but you refrained, not wanting to upset him. “Can you... can you say something?” You asked him in a quiet plead, your other hand rising to swipe at your eyes before any tears had the chance to fall. “I want you to keep talking.” His voice was so low it sounded like a growl. “I want you to keep talking about what you think of me.” You raised your chin to look at him, but his gaze was so strong that you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “I feel like the longer I’ve known you, the more I’ve wanted to know you. Fuck Kai, there’s just something about you and I don’t know why it’s so scary but I ache to give myself wholly to you.” Kai’s eyes darkened beside you. “And then when you said that shit in the car, that you loved me,” you finally gathered enough courage to look at him, needing to scrutinise his face in order to determine the truth of his answer to the question you were about to ask him. Your eyes were red and teary, but you indulged in it, laying yourself out before Kai, willing him to pick your words and emotions apart to truly understand the depth of your stark honesty. “Did you mean that? Did you mean you love me in the way that you love everyone else in this cult? Or, did you mean it in a way that just applies to me?” “You’re a clever girl, y/n.” He said simply. “How do you think I meant it?” You huffed a sigh of irritation at his cryptic responses, but delved into his question. “I think -” you took a shuddering breath, struggling to put your response into a coherent answer. “I think that if you had meant it in the way that it means for everyone else here, then I would’ve been dead the second you slammed me to the concrete of that road.” He nodded slowly. “And why do you think that?” You sucked in a breath, knowing that he was goading you into dangerous territory. “Because...because you killed Winter.” You finished slowly. Kai sat back, seemingly pleased by your answer. “Exactly. See? You’re a clever girl.”  “Okay,” you sat back, disconnecting your pinky from Kai’s. His hand dropped onto his lap as you wiped at your eyes. “And what exactly does that mean for me?” He studied you unblinkingly. “It means that you can take this in any direction you want. If you decide you hate me for what I did to you, then fine. Tell me to fuck off and I promise I’ll oblige you.” You processed his words, sucking on your teeth in thought. “Or, you can decide to give me a chance to make it up to you. I meant what I said, y/n. I’ve felt that way for a long time, and I will do anything for you to reciprocate that feeling.” He stood, sparing you once last glance before striding for the basement door. Pausing before the door, he threw his parting words over his shoulder: “Just whatever you decide, please stay in the house. The guest room is still set up for you. I hate not knowing who you’re with.” 

You couldn’t sleep that night, mulling the conversation over and over in your head until Kai’s voice was the only thing occupying your brain. You tossed onto your side for the twentieth time, your eyes staring at the small line of light shining in through the crack under the door of the guest room. It was unsettlingly familiar, taking you back to the confined darkness of the closet Kai had thrown you in.  You flipped onto your back once more with a huff, throwing the covers back so that the upper part of your body was exposed to the cool air. Kai’s room was just down the hall. Your stomach fluttered in forbidden possibility.  Would he be asleep? If you went to him, would he kick you out? You turned your head to the little digital alarm clock on the bedside table. The red numbers flashed, notifying you that it was 2.30 am.  Your hands fell onto your face.  Stop fucking thinking about him, you urged yourself for the hundredth time, sleep evading you a little bit more with each time that your mind circled back to your earlier conversation. You bit your lower lip harshly in irritation, your arms flopping onto the pillow above your head. A flurry of butterflies swirled about in your stomach. Just go to him; he wants it more than you do. But it shouldn’t be so easy to forgive the man that almost killed me? Almost. And he would’ve if he didn’t want to keep you around. Yes, how flattering. He’s Kai Anderson, killing is like second nature to him. “Fuck.” You whispered into the dark room, interrupting your conversation with yourself. “Talking to myself? I’m going insane.”  You didn’t give yourself a chance to reconsider, flinging the covers all the way back and lowering your feet to the cold wooden floor. Padding with bare feet to the door, you paused, looking down at yourself.  Are tiny pajama shorts and t-shirt too much? You shook your head, forcing your inner voice to shut up. He’s probably asleep it won’t even matter, you reasoned with yourself, quietly pulling open the door and looking out into the dark hallway. Kai’s door was right across the hall and you crossed the space quickly, the intensity of your butterflies momentarily causing your nerve slip. You reminded yourself once more that it was just Kai and that, even if he wasn’t interested in you, he probably wouldn’t give a shit if you decided that you wanted to spend the night in his bed.  You pushed open the door, not daring to breathe as you stepped into the darkness of the room beyond. The dim light flooding into the room fell over Kai’s large bed, his form a lump huddled under the covers on far side of the bed. You looked at him for a moment, at how small he looked huddled at the very edge of the otherwise empty bed. His breaths were deep and even as you eased the door closed beside you, skirting carefully around the bed to the other side and slipping onto the mattress beside him, turning so that you were back-to-back.  His breaths faltered slightly at the movement beside him and you froze, slowly lowering your head to the pillow. “Y/n?” He mumbled, the words accompanied by a shuffling sound that notified you that he had turned over to look at you.  You craned your own neck to look at his darkened face, swallowing.  “Sorry,” you breathed, “I couldn’t sleep.” “That’s fine.” He reassured you quietly, his voice softened by sleep. “Here, get under the covers, you’ll get cold.” Your heart ached at his gentle command and he watched you carefully as you maneuvered your way under his covers, sighing at the immediate warm the thick duvet provided as it settled over your bare legs. “Goodnight, y/n.” Kai muttered as soon as he was sure you had settled, turning back around to snuggle deeper into the covers. “Goodnight, Kai.” You replied quietly, his pillow significantly softer than the one in the guest room beneath your cheek. Your eyes drifted closed, a sense of stillness and peace finally settling over your mind in the warmth of Kai’s bed. “Y’know,” Kai began, his voice muffled by his pillow, “I just can’t stop thinking about you.”  A grin spread over your face at his words and you pushed yourself backwards slightly, sighing when your back came into contact with Kai’s. “That’s the reason I came in here.” You admitted to Kai, who merely grunted in acknowledgement, your words lost on his sleep-addled mind. You were asleep within minutes, Kai’s warmth leeching into you, the sound of his soft breaths lulling you into a satisfying sleep. taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove  (if you wanna be added or removed to let me know)

#american horror story #ahs #ahs cult #cult #kai anderson #kai x reader #continued #evan peters #evan peters ahs

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Pacemaker

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Warnings: Let me be clear: this is a very dark narrative. I have lots of warnings for my readers, including explicit smut, vulgar language, toxic relationships, voyeurism, choking, sadism, smoking, and drinking.

Word Count: 8.2K

Genre: Sugar Daddy AU; Established Relationship

Summary: Y/N had made a lot of bad decisions throughout her life, but signing up for that stupid Sugar Daddy website? The worst of them all.

A/N: The title makes more sense in the end, but I can tell you that pacemaker’s are used to control arrhythmia's - and Seungmin might just function that way for the reader! Also, I’m really sorry for making Chan such an asshole.

Seungmin was a good best friend, even if he was determined to ruin his lungs with expensive cancer sticks. 

I had once tried to help him break the bad habit - stealing the cigarette boxes that he bought from the store and tossing them into the trash. But Seungmin made it rather difficult to break his addiction, and when I found him digging through the trash one evening, trembling fingers bringing the lighter up to his lips, I stopped trying to help him. And it might seem like a shitty thing for a best friend to abandon, but I was really tired of seeing my efforts die in vain when Seungmin made it loud and clear that he wasn’t willing to relent.

However, I was probably the worst person in the world to preach against his vices, especially when mine were far more consequential. Ironically, if I was to compare our biggest slights, then I might find a lot of similarities between our horrible habits. For instance, we were both prisoners to something toxic, and it was hard to push out those dark shadows when they had already snuffed out most of the light.

But at least Seungmin still had some control over his autonomy whereas I had allowed a single man to dictate every aspect of my existence. He decided the clothes that I would wear to his fancy office, and the things that I was allowed to do to my own person. He enacted so many rules that I could barely keep up with them, and he frequently reminded me that I was supposed to comply with whatever he demanded because I signed a foolish contract.

In the end, it was my fault for becoming so involved, but I could always rely on Seungmin for companionship when I felt another bout of existential dread. Because Seungmin was a good listener, and he made an effort to understand my problems even when he didn’t agree with my decisions. It was one of the things that I liked most about him, and I watched him with indifferent eyes as he stomped out his cigarette against the sidewalk.

Thereafter, his breath vaporized against the frigid air, and it was the only reminder that it was cold because my body had already grown numb to the sensation. “What happened this time?” Seungmin asked, raising a brow in question.

It was a deceivingly simple question because there was no straightforward answer that I could offer him in response. Instead, I shrugged while trying to collect my thoughts. Because I still wasn’t really sure how I felt about my latest rendezvous with him, but I knew for certain that it had affected me more than the other times.

“It was different,” I replied, and Seungmin nodded.

“Did he hurt you?” Seungmin asked.

“Yes, but not the kind of hurt that you’re thinking about,” I said. 

“Well, that’s still fucked up,” Seungmin said. “Tell me everything.”

Oh, but there was so much to tell him, and my mind instantly brought me back to the very beginning when I signed my name on a contract that promised so much only to deliver nothing but pain.

Six Months Ago

The worst decision of my life was predicated on my desperation for cash, and I was almost at the point where I would do anything to see another zero on my bank statement.

When I first moved to California, I had a lot of big dreams, and I was so excited to secure a scholarship to a highly-accredited University. It seemed that the world was finally on my side, and I left my home on the east coast to start a new life with more opportunities. Everything was going according to plan, and there was nothing preventing my success.

Except for me, of course. 

And it happened during the events of a single evening when I decided to attend a fraternity party on campus that my roommate recommended. The music was loud, the alcohol was unlimited, and any prior inhibitions had been thrown out the window much to my own detriment. I forgot all about my responsibilities, and I made one careless decision after another until I ended up in bed with a stranger.

I don’t even remember his name, but he was just one of the students who got busted by the police that night. Apparently, someone next door ratted us out, and they discovered a bunch of under-age students drinking alcohol without any supervision, including myself. But when the University found out, my scholarship was taken away, and my parents refused to send me extra money for tuition because they were determined to bring me back home.

But I wasn’t about to let one night ruin everything, and it was my roommate’s idea to suggest the stupid website. “It’s like a Sugar Daddy thing,” my roommate giggled. “All you have to do is sign-up, and then they’ll email you if there’s any interest.”

“Interest?”

“Well, they’ll probably want something from you in exchange for money.”

“How much money?”

“I guess that’s up to you to decide.”

Tragically, I was too desperate to consider the consequences, and I signed up without even thinking about the potential for disaster. And within a week, I got several emails from old misers offering me loads of cash in exchange for services that ranged from a private escort request to more explicit favors. But none of them stood out to me, especially in comparison to the young CEO who claimed to only be 28-years-old, but I could hardly believe his profile.

Still, I decided to entertain him, and I organized a meeting at a neutral location just in case anything funny happened. But I was still shocked to see the same man from the pictures waiting for me inside the coffee shop. And he was just as handsome as he appeared online: long, curly blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and a broad smile that took my breath away.

“Y/N?” he asked when I cautiously approached the table.

“Mr. Bang Chan?” I returned, and he laughed while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal strong, muscular arms.

“That’s me,” he said. “You can sit down if you want.”

“Of course,” I said, feeling rather foolish after standing there for so long. “I’m sorry, but I was really surprised because I honestly thought you might by lying about your age.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, and I easily detected an accent carrying his words.

“Uh, considering the circumstances,” I said with a wince. “I feel like you could have any woman you want.”

“Oh?” Chan asked while raising one brow suggestively. “Maybe I just want you.”

“R-really?” I stuttered while wondering if I had made a good decision when I wore a skirt that afternoon. “You can probably tell that I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s alright,” Chan reassured me. “I don’t have much experience either.”

It seemed too good to be true - like there wasn’t any logical explanation for why this incredibly sexy businessman had signed up for some Sugar Daddy website when all he had to do was blink in my direction and I was already falling for him hard. “So, I guess you expect something from me.”

“I like how you do business,” Chan remarked. “We can skip all the formalities, then?”

“If you want,” I said, still feeling a bit sheepish as I glanced down at the table.

“From you, Y/N,” Chan continued. “I want a partner.”

“In what sense?” I asked. “Are you talking about something...sexual?”

“I’d really like that,” Chan said with a seductive smile. “But only if you’re interested.”

“Definitely,” I quickly agreed, throwing all caution to the wind as I surrendered to his ridiculous charisma.

“In return, you can have whatever you want,” Chan said. “Money isn’t an issue for me.”

“I really just need money for my tuition.”

“Is that all?” Chan scoffed as if he was in disbelief. “There’s got to be something else.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering why it was so hard to ask him for those extravagances when the entire premise of our meeting rested on the basis of one exchange for another. “My apartment,” I said. “I plan to get a job in the future, but I’m struggling with rent.”

“Fuck the job,” Chan said. “I don’t mind paying your rent.” He smirked as he leaned back against the booth with a sigh. “I used to be a college student, Y/N, and I had problems paying for those things too.”

His attitude was nothing but nonchalant, and our terms were settled without a single complaint. Eventually, the deal was finalized when I met him later that evening at his lavish penthouse apartment, signing my name at the bottom of an exclusive contract that I hadn’t even taken the time to read. 

“It’s done,” Chan declared, and I watched his forearms bulge as he applied pressure to the official stamp. “We can have some fun together,” he added, and the look he gave me was nothing short of predatory. “Tell me, Y/N. Are you a virgin?”

“No, sir,” I said, watching him throw the contract aside onto the coffee table. 

“Good,” he purred while slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you take birth control? I hate fucking with condoms.”

“Yes,” I whispered, and there wasn’t an ounce of shame in my entire being when I studied the hard planes of his upper torso once his chest was exposed to the room. 

Did I really just a sign a deal with a real-life Adonis?

“I’m gonna have a taste of that sweet cunt tonight,” Chan said, and one hand palmed himself over the front of his pants. “Bend over the couch for me, and keep your legs spread.”

“O-okay,” I agreed, hesitating because I wasn’t expecting him to move so fast, but I also knew that it was a foolish thought. What else should I have anticipated? There’s only one thing he wanted from me, and it’s not like it proceeded a romantic dinner or a long walk on the beach.

But it was still jarring to feel someone else’s hands on my hips - someone older and far more experienced. And his hands were proof of that confidence, perfectly assured in their motions as they drug my panties down my legs, fingers prodding against the folds of my labia. “You’re not wet enough,” Chan remarked, and I blushed because I was afraid that I had been doing something wrong. “We’ll just use lube.”

I flinched when I heard a loud POP! echo throughout the room when he opened a bottle from behind me. Then, I startled when something cold penetrated between my thighs because I wasn’t used to the overbearing sensation, and the flex of his fingers were incredibly thorough as they explored the private walls stretched around his intrusion. It felt nice, though, feeling him moving around, brushing against sensitive zones that had me moaning against the cushions.

“What a good slut,” Chan said, and I found myself whimpering at the derogatory term. “Let me use my cock instead.”

I gasped when his fingers disappeared in the middle of my approaching orgasm, leaving me clenching desperately for something to fill up the places that had left empty. But the sound of Chan shuffling out of his pants was reassuring, and he was nothing but teasing when he slid the head of his cock up and down my entrance. Spreading his pre-cum while prodding against me with the tip of his erection. 

If I hadn’t been wet before, then I was positively drenching from the surprisingly playful foreplay. “Please,” I whined, and he must’ve been feeling merciful since it was our first meeting because he pushed himself the rest of the way inside between my walls with a grunt. Satisfying that persistent ache which demanded some sort of satisfaction from the fat cock splitting me with every aggressive plunge against my g-spot.

“There we go,” Chan hissed, and his fingernails dug into my skin while he rolled my hips back onto his cock - repeating the motion with a sensual rhythm that was slow but fulfilling. Deep and full. Pounding into my hips with every thrust and chanting obscenities into the air while the smell of sex hit me with as much force as his thighs knocking against mine. “Feels so good around me.”

I moaned at his husky tone, and slid further down the armrest of the couch because my clit was rubbing deliciously against the furniture that he had bent me over, and I focused on the addicting friction and the impression of his cock drilling inside my pussy until I came with a loud moan. 

“Shit,” Chan cursed when I clenched even tighter around him, and the pleasure was like a dramatic rise - a climactic high - and I fell back into the moment with my heart pounding against my chest while Chan continued to plummet his cock into the stimulated entrance of my cunt before I felt his cum trickle down the inside of my legs. 

“Good girl,” Chan said, and he landed a sharp slap to my ass before he was walking out of the room, stuffing his cock back into his pants while I looked down at my hands and wondered what I was supposed to do next.

And several long minutes passed before I realized that Chan wasn’t coming back, and I tried to ignore the sensation of his cum drying on my skin as I pulled my skirt back on over my sore hips. 

Is this how it would be every time? 

I grimaced at the thought, but I knew it was still a better alternative than returning home to my disappointed parents. Because Chan would at least help me stay in school, and he wasn’t really asking for that much in return. 

Right?

But my heart was aching when I left his penthouse around midnight, returning to the shared apartment with my roommate and slinking into the shower while doing my best to remain quiet. Unfortunately, my thoughts were starting to become more rampant - louder than the prevailing silence - and I couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter with Chan. Because it was the second time that a random stranger had fucked me without consideration, and I would never forget how I felt in that moment, scalding my skin under hot water while scrubbing insistently with my fingernails scratching across my arms.

And I went to sleep that night thinking about the future for the first time since I lost my scholarship. For instance, how long would I have to keep doing this? Can it really end after my graduation?

Needless to say, I was unable to reacquaint myself with the familiar comforts of sleep, and I woke-up the next morning feeling like a much weaker version of myself. It was both a literal and metaphorical description for my current state of mind and physical being, and I forced myself to endure my regular routine so that I could leave for class on time.

But even as I was starting to feel better again, savoring the cool air of the morning as I walked through campus, everything was ruined when I received an unanticipated phone call from Chan around lunchtime:

“Can you come into my office today?” Chan asked, and I checked my watch.

“I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Perfect,” Chan said, and I hung up the phone before jogging to the bus stop.

The Voyeur

Chan’s office building was extravagant, and I had trouble finding his company because it seemed like there was no end to the numerous corridors. Thankfully, a polite worker was willing to steer me in the right direction, and I greeted Chan’s secretary with a nervous exhale of my name.

“He’s waiting for you inside,” she said with a bright smile. “But make sure to lock the door behind you.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, puzzled by the strange request, but I entered the room with a dismissive shrug, glancing back to turn the lock before stumbling in my steps when I realized that someone who was not Chan stood in the middle of the room.

He was a younger associate, and his hair was slicked back with some kind of product as he observed me with the faintest hint of a smirk. “You must be Chan’s newest plaything.”

I gasped at the stranger’s words. “Chan-” I attempted to call for him, but cold fingers wrapped themselves around my throat in warning.

“Shhh,” Chan whispered into my ear, and I trembled when one of his hands went down to the waistband of my skirt. “You’re right on time, Y/N.”

“Sir,” I said, trembling when he found my clit through the fabric, applying rough circles with a growl.

“Go sit on top of the desk for me,” Chan said. “Take off your skit and panties.”

“But there’s someone else-”

“Did you not hear me?” Chan interrupted, and there was an intimidating warning in his eyes that I found myself unable to ignore.

“Yes, sir,” I said in compliance, and I tried not to think about the situation unfolding in front of me. Instead, I carefully walked around the unfamiliar man without making eye contact, even though his gaze was focused on me the entire time. “Is this what you wanted me to see?” the newcomer asked, and I startled at the sound of his voice as I slipped out of my clothes.

“I think she’s your type,” Chan said, and he nonchalantly strolled through the room with his hands tucked into his pockets. “This is what you like, Jisung? Sit back and relax.”

Jisung pursed his lips as he found a comfortable position on one of the futons, and I gasped when I realized that he had unzipped his pants, fishing out his cock while casually stroking the full length of his erection, gaze fixed on the place where Chan was standing in front of me.

“Bend over, whore,” Chan growled, and I turned around in an instant, shivering when he forced my legs to spread even further apart, applying pressure to my lower back as I arched even higher for him. “Have you ever seen a prettier cunt?”

“Finger her for me,” Jisung requested, and I closed my eyes when Chan penetrated three fingers inside at once. Because it was a distant shout from his treatment the previous night, and I found myself enduring the pain from being aggressively handled. 

“Is this to your satisfaction?” Chan asked, and he was moving lightning fast, thrusting his fingers so fast that my body wasn’t sure how to process the rapidly growing pressure building with every curl of his wrist.

“Fuck her then,” Jisung said, and I could hear the slick sound of his hand moving on his cock to match the pace of Chan’s motions inside of me.

“No problem,” Chan said, and his cock replaced his fingers with one harsh plunge, forcing my hips to collide with the side of his desk as he started an unrelenting pace, hands holding tight to my waist as he treated me as nothing more than his personal cock-sleeve.

My pleasure wasn’t a concern, and I could tell because he never once asked me if I was feeling good. Instead, he panted like a dog into my ears, groping along my chest while rolling his hips up into mine - grinding his cock as deep as he could manage. 

“Chan...” I trailed off at one point because there would surely be bruises once he was done with me.

“Is there a problem, Y/N?” he asked, and I quickly shook my head even as he started thrusting even harder, forcing his cock even deeper inside my gaping core - brushing against previously untouched places that awakened something almost feral.

“No, sir,” I managed, choking around a moan when his fingers tightened around my throat again.

“He likes to watch,” Chan whispered, slowing down to a sensual grind while he spoke to me. “It gets him off every time.”

“I didn’t know,” I said in return, even though no response was really warranted.

Especially when Chan leaned back once again, picking up from where he had left off from before, and there was a stuttered hiccup to the way he moved - like he was nearing his own breaking point. His fingers curled themselves into my hair, forcing my head to the side to meet Jisung’s unwavering gaze.

“Jisung,” Chan said, and the voyeur himself looked up at the two of us with lust reflecting in his eyes. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“Keep going,” Jisung simply said in return, and Chan was laughing in the moments preceding his orgasm, spilling his seed between my convulsing walls before pulling out with a groan.

“You did good, Y/N,” Chan said, and he reached down for my discarded skirt.

Meanwhile, I glanced around Chan to see Jisung reaching for the tissue box on the table. “Thank you for the show, Mr. Bang.” Jisung said, and he cleaned off his cock before tucking himself back into his jeans.

The Sadist

That unexpected situation should’ve been the first and only sign required for me to break off the engagement with Bang Chan, but I was starting to grow addicted to the ostentatious gifts that he sent me.

Because on that same afternoon, I returned to my apartment to find a brand new SUV waiting for me outside my complex. It was the newest model, and my roommate was hysterical with excitement as she jumped around the front lawn and told me all about how a random man had brought the car to our apartment asking for me. 

“I don’t know who you’re seeing,” my roommate remarked. “But if he keeps doing this kind of thing...”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a faint smile, and there was still an active part of me that thought I could put up with Chan if it meant receiving things like this in return.

Plus, I somehow deluded myself into thinking that everything was fine, and I guess my lectures on argumentative writing must’ve worked too well because I convinced my stubborn brain to endure the arrangement for a little while longer. 

It also helped that Chan hadn’t spoken to me much in the week following our little date in his office, and I was able to forget about the encounter with Jisung. Plus, my tuition was paid, my bank account was full, and there were always expensive things allowing me to take advantage of a lavish lifestyle.

It was hard to argue against the current trajectory of my situation, but there was still a painful reminder of its price when Chan eventually called me the following Friday with another request:

“I’m having a guest over tonight,” Chan said. “And you’re the entertainment.”

I swallowed hard at his brusque tone. “Entertainment?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Chan reassured me, and I could only process his words while the dial tone played in the background.

But maybe I could handle the addition of a guest, especially if it was just Jisung or someone watching again. That hadn’t been so bad, and the worst part was the initial shock of seeing another man in the same room. 

Maybe I was just overreacting, and this would be a regular night where Chan would fuck me in his bed and I would limp home and sleep on the brand new satin comforter he had bought for me.

Unfortunately, my initial enthusiasm was dulled when I knocked on the door to Chan’s penthouse, and he answered my summons with another man lingering in the background. But the other man wasn’t Jisung, and a single chill rolled down my spine when Chan’s guest turned around to look at me for the very first time. “You’re early,” Chan said with a pleasant smile. “We were just pouring ourselves some drinks.”

“That sounds nice,” I said, allowing Chan to take my coat before he led me into the living room.

“This is my associate, Lee Minho,” Chan said, nodding in the direction of the freshly identified man who was unreasonably handsome as he sat down across the room.

“The pleasure is mine,” Minho said with a smirk, and I had no words to match his arrogance, but Chan pulled me into his lap and I took some strange comfort from his embrace.

“Minho and I have been friends for years.”

“What a tragedy,” Minho remarked, and the simple jest was met with a chuckle from Chan who wrapped an arm around my waist.

“He was really excited to meet you as well.”

“Especially after listening to Jisung run his mouth,” Minho said, and I froze at the mention of the other man because that was the moment when everything started to plummet, and I could see the change in Minho’s gaze as he lowered his eyes to my chest.

“Can I see her tits?” Minho asked, holding his glass of scotch in one hand while the other disappeared down the front of his pants.

“Of course,” Chan said, and he didn’t seem to care at all about his friend’s vulgar request, pulling me back against his chest as his fingers worked apart the buttons on my blouse. “She doesn’t mind. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

I shook my head, paralyzed by Minho’s impenetrable gaze as he inhaled sharply when Chan removed the shirt from my arms. “Those are nice.”

“Aren’t they?” Chan agreed, and his fingers tweaked my nipples. But I shivered at the pressure, nearly jumping in his lap from the sudden stimulation as his thumbs rolled across the hardening buds.

“You ever fucked them before?” Minho asked, parting his lips around the rim of his glass.

“No,” Chan said, and his tone reflected his disappointment. “I guess I’ll have to try that in the future.”

“They’re a good size,” Minho remarked, and I couldn’t help but feel humiliated because they were talking about me in such a vulgar manner - like I was just a piece of meat on display for them.

“I like her tits,” Chan agreed. “But I think her ass is my favorite.”

Minho scoffed at that. “Isn’t that always your preference?”

“Why do you think I like fucking her from behind?” Chan laughed, and Minho smiled before draining the rest of his alcohol.

“Where did you get her?” Minho asked, and I watched as he removed his expensive suit jacket.

“Do you remember that website Jisung showed me?” Chan smirked. “It’s probably the best idea that he’s ever had.”

“Mhmm,” Minho agreed, and his lecherous eyes continued to openly stare at my breasts. “Has Changbin seen her yet?”

“No,” Chan said, and then he sighed. “I’m afraid to introduce them.”

“She’s exactly his type,” Minho remarked. “He’ll want to fuck her for sure, and I doubt you’ll tell him no.”

“He’s convincing,” Chan said, and he smirked while his lips pressed wet kisses against my neck and his hands massaged my breasts. “What would you want to do with her?”

“Me?” Minho chuckled, and his dark eyes were appraising. “I’d probably fuck her mouth, and then maybe cum on her tits.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Chan said, and then he was shoving against me from behind. “Get on your knees,” Chan growled into my ear, and I shivered at the guttural sound before falling from his lap and into the floor.

Meanwhile, Minho continued to watch me while stroking his cock, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Is this an invitation?”

“Take her mouth,” Chan said, and he reached out for his discarded glass of brandy. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Minho smirked in response, and he pulled the occupied hand from his pants long enough to stand up from the couch, taking another step forward until his crotch was level with my face. “Is that true, little girl?” Minho asked, and I held my tongue when his fingers traced across my lips. “Do you want to suck my cock?”

I could feel Chan’s eyes on me, and I knew better than to disobey. “Yes,” I whispered, and Minho closed his eyes around a groan.

“Channie picked a good little cocksucker,” he said, and he quickly undid his pants, pulling them down his thighs along with his boxers. I inhaled when his cock was freed from the confines of his underwear, slapping against his stomach with a bead of pre-cum waiting on the tip. “Go ahead,” Minho said. “Let’s see what you can do for me.”

I swallowed hard, and I decided to start with a few strokes of his hardening erection - feeling the length of him under my hand because I knew that it would be painful to fit him inside my mouth. “Don’t tease,” Chan said, and I shivered at his harsh tone.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I decided not to waste another moment before I was parting my lips around the head of Minho’s cock, tasting the gathered pre-cum on his tip. It was bitter because it was overwhelming, and my jaw was already aching as I hollowed my cheeks and tried to prevent my teeth from scraping across the sensitive underside of his erection.

“Harder,” Minho growled, and he reached down to grab fistfuls of my hair while forcing the remainder of his cock down my throat - triggering my gag reflex with the sudden motion. 

“I guess she’s not used to it,” Chan remarked - like it wasn’t a big deal that I could barely breathe around the intrusion, and spit was dripping from my lips as he proceeded to use me like I was nothing more than a warm space to fill with his cock.

“I’ll teach her for you,” Minho said, but it wasn’t a kindness to feel the tip of his cock hit the soft palate of my mouth, dragging between my lips as he ground his hips while moaning around a curse. 

But I still tried my best, sucking at the skin and using my tongue to trace against the ridges. I also kept my hands firmly behind my back, trying my best not to reach out for his thighs because I was afraid that he wouldn’t appreciate the feeling of my nails digging into my skin. Not that he seemed to be extending the same courtesy - fucking my mouth with loud grunts and tugging on my hair with enough force that my scalp was screaming for me to intervene.

“Does it feel good?” Chan asked.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Minho said, and his eyes were glossy from the alcohol settling into his system and the approaching orgasm which I could taste as I tried my best to swallow around him.

And it was almost disorienting when he pulled himself free, keeping one hand in my hair while the other stared to stroke the length of his erection with rapid jerks. “Look at me,” Minho growled, and I forced my gaze to meet his own. “I’m gonna cum on your tits,” Minho snarled, twisting my hair as I did my best to nod around the impossible hold.

“Shit, that’s hot,” Chan whispered, and I closed my eyes when Minho finally came, spraying his hot cum across my chest as his thighs trembled from the effort.

“Damn,” Minho said, and he took a strategic step back to survey me from afar. “She looks better this way.”

“I definitely agree,” Chan said, but I only felt disgusting as I sat there on my knees with their eyes observing my wilted figure. 

The Participant

For an entire week after my encounter with Minho, every time I spoke, or did something as simple as drink or eat with my friends, I was reminded of him. 

It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing that had ever happened to me, and I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that had been aroused at the idea of Minho’s rough treatment. But the problem emerged from the lack of disclosure from Chan because he seemed to take impressive liberties with the contract. And I didn’t mind having sex with the older man since I gave him my full consent, but these surprises that he sprung on me when I wasn’t expecting them? I wasn’t entirely happy about those.

In fact, the more that I thought about the incident with both Minho and Jisung, the more infuriated I became, and I couldn’t help the brusque tone that I used to greet Chan over the phone when he randomly contacted me the following weekend.

“Someone’s having a bad day,” Chan said, and I didn’t appreciate his accompanying laughter. 

“It’s just my classes,” I offered as a response, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and prevent an oncoming headache.

“I hope it’s not too bad because I’d like for you to meet me in the office,” Chan said, and I agreed without really thinking about the consequences. Because the last time I went to Chan’s office, I found myself being fucked on top of his desk with an executive watching in the background.

But I guess this was what I had literally signed up for, and Chan couldn’t possibly know that I hated our most recent encounters because I still wasn’t able to find the confidence to tell him. And maybe it was better this way since our arrangement was nothing but a superficial agreement between two consenting adults - we were both getting something out of it, and I didn’t want to risk losing the invaluable funding that he sent to my stunningly healthy bank account.

Instead, I put on my best smile for him when I walked into his office, greeting him at his Secretary’s desk as she offered me a courteous welcome. Does she know what’s going on? I wondered to myself when Chan took my hand and led me to the giant executive desk where he worked.

He chuckled when he patted his lap, and I dropped my bag onto the floor before dropping myself down between his strong thighs. “There you are,” Chan said with a smirk, tracing the pout of my lips with his thumb. “You look sexy today.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I hated to sound so timid in front of him, but he was still beyond intimidating, and I never knew what to expect from someone who continued to surprise me.

“I’ve missed you,” Chan said, and I hesitated when his hands found the hem of my t-shirt, crawling along the skin of my torso to hold me in place. “Last time was really fun.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, but it wasn’t very convincing. Thankfully, Chan didn’t seem to notice, and he brought me in for a sloppy kiss so that I could taste the mouth wash on his tongue.

“Let’s take a walk around the office,” Chan said, and I agreed because it seemed relatively normal in comparison to what he usually asked from me.

It was also startling domestic to hold his hand as he walked me through the maze of cubicles, talking about taxes and the stock market and whatever else he found interesting. In response to most of his conversation, I found myself nodding because I couldn’t comprehend his big text jargon or the complicated explanation when it involved his return on investment numbers.

“How about some lunch?” Chan suggested, and I agreed even though my stomach had twisted itself into knots during the ride over here.

However, when Chan reached out to hit the button to call for the elevator, he paused when he made eye-contact with someone walking out of the conference room. He sighed as he turned me around. “This is awkward,” Chan said, and I noticed that the tips of his ears were bright red. “I may have shown Changbin some pictures of you and....” Chan trailed off with a smile. “He really liked what I showed him.”

“Changbin?” I questioned, and Chan jerked his head to the side to indicate the exceedingly handsome gentleman who was lingering outside of the conference room with his eyes glued in our direction.

“Changbin really likes you,” Chan whispered, smiling as he allowed one hand to fall down and palm my ass.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and I felt my entire face flush when I realized that it had come from Changbin. He was brazenly eye-fucking me from where he was standing, and I couldn’t even imagine the dirty thoughts running through his mind.

“He wants to fuck you,” Chan continued as if we were having a conversation about something as casual as the weather. “And I kinda want to see him pound this little pussy.”

He then audaciously cupped the heat between my legs and I squirmed around in his arms because we were in public. “What are you doing?” I asked, and there was every reason to panic when anyone could see us like this - when Changbin was already looking at us like we were incredibly interesting.

“He’s got a really big cock,” Chan added like that was supposed to convince me. “But I know that you’ll do it for me, right?”

I hesitated at his request, glancing back over my shoulder at Changbin who was still watching the two of us with a predatory gaze. “When?”

“Tonight,” Chan said before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my lips. “I’ll have something nice sent to your apartment. Wear it for us, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I agreed, and the response sounded robotic even to my own ears.

True to his word, Chan had sent over a rather scandalous pair of lingerie to my apartment - a matching set of underwear that included a red thong and delicate bralette with lace elegantly lining the comfortable padding. There was also a very short black shirt in the package and a thin camisole which wasn’t meant to cover much of me. And I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror when I realized that I looked like someone out of Chan’s wet dream.

But instead of walking through campus with such an appearance, I had wrapped my scantily-clad form in a long coat when I greeted Chan that night outside of his apartment, hoping that he wouldn’t question my desire to ride the bus in something more appropriate for public viewing. But maybe he was too turned on to scold me, dragging me inside his apartment and closing the door before opening the front of my coat.

“Fuck,” he growled when he saw me in my outfit. “You look so good in this.”

“Thank you,” I whispered in return, and Chan tossed aside my coat while reaching down for my hand.

“There’s no reason to delay tonight’s fun,” he commented. “Changbin’s already waiting in the bedroom,” he said.

I swallowed hard the mention of the other man, trying to piece together my disorganized thoughts when Chan invited me inside the lavish bedroom that was the exact same size as my entire apartment. But I also wasn’t surprised by the ostentatious reminder of his tremendous wealth, especially when I realized that there was someone waiting inside just as Chan had promised. The same man from earlier at the office was sitting in a chair near the corner of the room, dressed in his work suit and looking at me from beneath a fringe of blonde hair while his fingers tightened around his whisky glass.

“You were so patient, Bin,” Chan remarked as he reached down to remove his shirt. 

“I think she’s worth it,” Changbin replied, and I tried not to squirm too much under his impenetrable gaze.

“What do you think of her outfit?” Chan asked, and he smirked while squeezing my ass through the skit.

“I’d rather see what’s underneath,” Changbin said, and his attitude was so nonchalant that I couldn’t deny that a small part of me was attracted to his eagerness.

“That can be arranged,” Chan agreed, and I held perfectly still as he removed my tank top before jerking my skirt down my thighs. 

He didn’t even need to tell me to step out of the offending piece of fabric, sliding it across the floor as I stood in front of Changbin in nothing more than the skimpy lingerie that Chan had chosen for me. “Damn,” Changbin grumbled, and one hand slid down his chest before settling on top of the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Shall we start?” Chan grinned, and I watched as he walked over to the bed to make himself more comfortable on top of the mattress before holding out his arms for me. “Come here, Y/N.”

I nodded, crawling over the silken sheets while Chan whispered compliments into the silent bedroom. “She’s so fucking hot,” Changbin remarked, and I held my breath when Chan used his raw strength to turn me around - bringing my back flush against his chest as one arm wrapped itself across my chest. I shivered in response to his impressive muscles, pressing myself even closer to him while his other hand crept down to remove my panties

“Look at this,” Chan whispered, ripping the fabric and exposing my bottom half for Changbin’s eyes. “Such a pretty cunt.”

Changbin inhaled sharply at the exposed skin, and he stood from the chair to walk over the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes because he was shameless, palming his erection over his pants while his eyes glued themselves between my thighs. “Spread her legs for me.”

Chan nodded, and I could feel the way his fingers parted the wet folds of my labia before he drug his thumb along my sensitive clitoris. 

“Oh, fuck,” Changbin growled, and his eyes were bright with lust as Chan continued to tease my throbbing sex while mouthing kisses against my throat.

“Do you see something you like?” Chan asked his friend as if the question was even necessary.

“Let me fuck her, Chan,” Changbin snarled, and I watched as he unzipped his suit pants before dropping them to the floor along with his boxer shorts, fisting his cock in one hand while the other worked at the buttons on his shirt. 

“I don’t know...” Chan trailed off with a teasing tone. “I’m not really in the mood to share.”

“We both know that's a lie,” Changbin said with a humorless laugh. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

I bit my tongue to hold back a moan when one of Chan’s fingers penetrated my tight walls, putting on a show for Changbin as he maintained eye contact with his business partner. It was like they were engaged in some sort of competition over me, and I was melting from Chan’s ministrations, feeling him move around with his fingers curling against all the right spots. He also started to scissor his fingers to stretch me out in preparation for whatever else might happen, and Changbin whimpered as he continued to stroke his hand up and down the impressive length of his throbbing cock. 

“I guess you can have it,” Chan said, and I yelped when he shoved me off his lap, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. “Hands and knees,” Chan barked, slapping my ass for good measure before he walked over to the same chair in the corner of the room. “You’ll be a good slut for Changbin.”

I whimpered at the rough treatment, and I tried to avoid Changbin’s gaze as I positioned myself on the center of the bed, dropping down onto my forearms while I raised my ass high in the air. I was breathing hard against the sheets, feeling my pulse skyrocket when the bed dipped beneath Changbin’s weight as he mounted me from behind. 

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, and I shook my head when he started to grope my ass, pulling apart my cheeks as his fingers prodded against the dripping entrance to my cunt. “Say my name, slut!”

I nearly screamed from the force of the slap he landed on my ass, and I took a deep breath to manage the pain. “Please, Changbin,” I sniffled, and there was nothing but blinding hot pleasure when he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my slit.

However, he wasn’t nearly as patient as Chan, and I was shaking around the abrupt intrusion of his cock. He also wasn’t gentle, holding my hips with a bruising grip before he fucked his cock inside my wet heat, leaving me no room to breathe before he was driving his hips against mine like there wasn’t enough time in the world to split me open for him. “Shit,” Changbin hissed, and I was powerless when he shoved my face down into the pillows, forcing me back into an even deeper arch. 

“Play nice, Bin,” Chan said, and I could barely spot him from the corner of my eye. “You know I don’t like it when you break my toys.”

“Can’t help it,” Changbin grunted, and I could feel the fat head of his cock brushing against my cervix. 

“She feels good right?” Chan asked, and I finally located him, following his voice to see that he was rubbing his erection through the tented fabric of his pants.

“Her cunt is tight,” Changbin agreed, and he wasn’t even thrusting anymore; instead, he was manhandling me up and down his cock, slamming his hips against mine and filling the room with the sounds of wet slaps and crude moans as he chased his own pleasure.

He was fucking me like a madman, breath hot on the back of my neck. Everything was fast and hard, and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall was especially loud. “Fuck,” Changbin muttered, and I thought he might be slowing down, but he just adjusted his grip and set a brutal pace and fucked me even harder.

It was all too much, and I wasn’t expecting to come, but when he lifted one of my legs for a better angle, I felt a sudden wave of arousal drip around Changbin’s thick erection because he was scraping across my G-spot with every stroke. I moaned at the direct stimulation, and it felt like there was an impossible pressure building at the center of my abdomen, stretching and stretching until my vision nearly blacked out from the intensity of my orgasm.

“Yes!” Changbin groaned when I inadvertently squeezed around his cock even tighter, providing enough pressure to trigger his own orgasm. And I could feel his warm cum as it decorated the cavern of my pussy, escaping the place where we were connected with a squelching sound when he eventually pulled out.

“What a mess,” Chan groaned.

“Such a good little whore,” Changbin purred, reaching down to stuff his cum back inside where it belonged. I whined at the over-stimulation, but Changbin growled in response and slapped my ass hard. “I want one more round,” Changbin declared, leaving me lying on the bed as he rolled over to the side. 

“Sure,” Chan agreed, and I felt his hand soothing along the side of my face as he wiped away my tears. “How long do you need to get it back up, old man?”

“Shut up,” Changbin muttered. “Give me ten minutes.”

‘Well, that’s all I need,” Chan remarked, and I whimpered when he took his turn to mount me from behind, twisting his fingers into my hair as he slid his cock inside with one hard thrust, grinding his hips in long, sensual circles while whispering the filthiest words into my ears.

Present

It wasn’t very much like me to reveal all those intimate secrets, but something about Seungmin’s presence was safe and comforting. “What an asshole,” Seungmin remarked, discarding a fresh cigarette that he hadn’t even bothered lighting before returning his attention to me. “You deserve so much better than him.”

“He pays for everything,” I said. “He pays for my tuition, and he sends checks for the rent...”

“So?” Seungmin scoffed. “I can help you get a job at the diner where I work. You can make enough money to pay for those things without him.”

“It’s just so hard...” I broke off with a sudden exclamation, and my emotions were spilling out despite my attempts to suppress them, holding Seungmin even closer by the collar of his jacket as I sobbed into his shoulder. “He owns me.”

“No, he doesn’t, Y/N,” Seungmin said with a firm tone. “Do you understand me?”

I shook my head. “I signed a contract!”

“Every contract has a loophole,” Seungmin said. “And I’m sure it expires at some point, or you can negotiate your way out of the terms!”

“He’s a businessman,” I argued. “There’s no way I can win.”

“Not with that attitude,” Seungmin said with a fierce look. “You’re not alone, Y/N. I’ll even help you figure out how to leave him, but that’s what you need to do because this relationship is not good for you!”

“I kept telling myself that I didn’t care,” I whispered, sighing when Seungmin carded his fingers through my hair. “I guess I cared too much.”

“It’s alright,” Seungmin said, holding me close as he spoke reassurances into my stubborn ears.

“I’m scared, Seungmin,” I told him, and he nodded.

“I’ll give you all my strength,” he promised, and the sincerity of his words triggered a fresh wave of tears, and I cried while thinking about the difficult situation that I found myself in. 

The idea of Chan’s arrangement had once been enchanting because everything he promised seemed like a dream come true. But the reality was nothing short of a nightmare. And I was suddenly desperate to escape.

#stayracha #skzwriternet #skzsmutnetwork #chan smut #chan fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids chan #stray kids chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #mostlycompetent #requested

[mikaze-discord]

Quartet Night: Love letters

Annnnnd these are the love letters written for Quartet Night!!!

Please enjoy under the cut~

REIJI KOTOBUKI

From Anon:

I've always been drawn to characters with complex (and fairly dark) personalities, so liking Rei-chan was honestly inevitable for me.

He looks like a very bright and cheerful character at first, which he is, but sometimes that part of him is a little misleading because, in actuality, he's a character that holds a lot of negative feelings about himself due to a past that he can't seem to move on from. He holds a lot of those feelings to himself because he doesn't want to burden anyone else with them. He's a reliable, cunning, and ultimately selfless character that chooses to shoulder a lot on his own out of his infinite care for others, and perhaps a secret sense of atonement, all hidden behind his bright demeanor and goofy smile, and it's endlessly interesting to me.

Besides the duality of his personality, he has a lot of other endearing quirks to love about him. He loves his mom a lot and is a mama's boy. His old-man jargon and catchphrases never fail to amuse (I still can't get over the way he says "my girl"). His obsession with anything even remotely British is something my APH England phase can relate to. His style of music brings a lot of pleasant feelings of nostalgia for me, and his pretty voice suits them a lot. And most of all he's just a very good boy overall. I rate 99999 out of 10 would love and support him and also maybe pay for his therapy because god knows he needs it. Happy anniversary!!

From another anon: 

Would you like to hear a story? You do? Very well then, may this story be one you enjoy.

What do I like about Reiji kotobuki? A Lot of things actually!

Well, I've always really liked Reiji as a character as he seemed to be one of the more interesting characters to me, due to how complex he is with his backstory and general just personality.

I have always really enjoyed how Reiji just solves problems too? Like he is just such an outgoing person who deserves all the support!!!

Like the best word I can use for Reiji is just, unique. Everything about him is just so Reiji. From the way he talks, to his nicknames or even his texting style. Like have you seen how many people use emoticons when texting as Reiji? It's just so him.

I like his way of thinking too! I feel like some of the interactions in the games are just so interesting, just seeing Reiji’s point of view. How he deals with a sort of survivor’s guilt and all of that.

Personally, some of my most memorable roleplaying moments were watching a Reiji rper in action, like just seeing them interact and flow so seamlessly with the other characters was just so fascinating to wee baby rper me. Such a large part of playing Reiji is just how you flow with the people around you and comedic timing. I have so many funny moments where Reiji was just interacting with people and it was just so inspirational (?) like I couldn't stop the smile on my face. I had learnt alot from them. I still consider them my roleplaying senpai almost! I don't talk to them anymore but I really had an amazing time just seeing their spin on the character.

I don't find him to be a romantic partner towards me nor do I see any of the characters in that light, but I've always found Reiji as such a personal character. Not even just towards me, like even with other utapri stans. The most relatable character always seems to be Reiji.

I've always been pretty similar in many aspects to him and I often find myself relating to him in numerous ways like his vibe is just relatable! I have often found myself trying to make other people laugh and have fun that many times I'm spreading myself thin and feel unappreciated...Reiji really helped with that.

This is where i start getting into the really personal stuff LOL feel free to skip if you dont wanna hear the angsty backstory.

I had really come to love Reiji when I had just...hit a low. I had a group of friends who I enjoyed hanging out with and just talking to, but they weren't very good friends per say. I often had to schedule every activity we did and I spent days and nights trying to think of concepts that might be fun. They took it for granted.. I had spent 4 months trying to make a game for them, and they had constantly pushed back times that we would play it. Using excuses to not play it, without telling me out right what they did not like or even why. The site I used was later taken down without notice and thus I had lost all my progress. Later, they had mentioned how they would like to play it except that later ended up being two years later. I really wish I could've solved things with that friend group like Quartet Night did but that didn't happen. That is when I started seeing things Reiji’s way? Not to say that it was the same or similar scenario to Reiji but I had just associated it with him.

RANMARU KUROSAKI

From Anon:

Ran is such a fun character! He sounds like a "rough outside, soft inside" kind of character, but his roughness is more like an integral part of him and it's through it that he shows he cares rather than setting it aside. That's what made me want to rp him. I also like how he is such a strong guy who's always determined to do his best in everything he does despite so much having gone wrong in his past. And it's very satisfying to see him form bonds and start to trust people.

From @mikaze-san:

Originally, my favourite Utapri boy was Ai, and it had been the robot boy for several years upon entering the fandom. In fact, it only switched to Ranmaru sometime late last year but regardless, I would still die for this man. Part of the reason why I switched is because I’ve always been a fan of Suzuki Tatsuhisa and I have a huge bias towards any man who wears nail polish without fearing being “feminine” because fuck gender roles.

As someone who studies fashion, I think Ranmaru is very coordinated and confident when it comes to portraying himself that way. He knows he’s not very good at expressing his emotions and utilises his passion for rock and playing the bass to portray those feelings through his songs. It’s also incredibly inspiring to know that he bounces back from pretty much anything considering his backstory and the stuff he deals with in the game/anime.

But my main reason for loving Ranmaru so much stems from the fact that I admire him a lot and want to be more like him. For a long time last year, I got to roleplay as Ranmaru in a few Utapri groups and through those experiences, I gained a better understanding and appreciation of the characters that I wrote for. In some weird way, by highlighting his flaws, character progression and how he dealt with different emotions, I ended up providing insight into how I dealt with similar issues by looking at them from a 3rd person perspective.

I used to be very shy and was very shut off from friends and family, and due to this I’ve always admired people in my life or fictional characters that are so confident in being who they are. Ranmaru particularly struck that chord in me because his bluntness knows no end. He’s very opinionated and doesn’t fear confrontation, in most cases being the one to provoke it. He speaks his mind openly without being overly anxious of the consequences. This is something that I feel is especially relevant today with being your authentic/unapologetic self is such a trend.

It’s something I’ve also noticed with having met people in or outside of this fandom, the notion of idolising a fictional character containing traits that we want to see in ourselves. Which made me think about a lot of my favourite kinds of characters which at the end of the day all boil down to sharing one similar trait: Being a bitch.

And in Utapri, Ranmaru embodies that. So naturally it’s very easy for me to idolise him.

(Tldr: I like his bitchy attitude.)

AI MIKAZE 

From Arashi:

It's hard to put into words why I love Ai Mikaze, perhaps it's because I'm subconsciously drawn to him, maybe it's because his hair and eyes are my favorite color, maybe it's because his voice is that of an angels, there are many reasons why I love him. I couldn't tell you a definite, "These one or two reasons are the entire reason I love him", but I'll try to sum it up.

I grew to love him by admiring his personality, his smile, his determination to reach his goals, everything about him made me happy. He's strict and a little scary at times, but when he sees people caring for him, he becomes happy and in a way, sentimental. He's not sure how to explain the way he feels, but he tries. I think I admire how he holds all the little things precious to his heart as he learns about them, and he wants to understand how to care for others and how they care for them in return. Even after six years, he still remains the most dear to me. I think that he now has a sentimental value to me, because even if I 'loved' another character more for a while, I will always come back to Ai. Ai deserves the world, and I'd give it to him if I could. He'll always be special to me, and I think that he very much deserves that.

From Maronda: 

My love for Ai started after I found Shining Live by chance and started to play. At first I wasn't particularly attached to any of the characters and decided to go back and watch the anime to maybe remember some context other than who Starish was. When I got to the episode focused on Ai and his "secret" I was absolutely thrown off by it all. I ended up feeling like I had so many questions and I knew that the anime would give me little to no answers, so I frequently turned to rambling on the internet about it. Eventually, this fixation on weird things about him seemed to turn into a clear fondness for him, and friends made me realize just how much I liked him. Knowing the cold and often strange aspects of his personality was due to something out of his control was something I resonated with as someone on the autism spectrum. He reminded me of some of the ways I used to think and behave.

I also began to notice other things I loved about him. Things like how soothing I found his voice, the pleasant shade of light blue in his hair and eyes, how ridiculously pretty he is... but the best things are the endearing parts of his personality. Though he's somewhat harsh, he's still entirely genuine. His curiosity is absolutely precious and his occasional awkwardness in expressing emotion or understanding the emotions of others made me empathize with him. And if you look at the Ai in Shining Live and compare it to the Ai in the anime and games... he really has changed a lot and grown as a person. He now seems so much gentler and understanding, and he clearly values the friendships he has now too! I think he's a wonderful character and ever since friends of mine encouraged me to selfship I've essentially been in love with him, but it also makes me happy to see other people appreciate him for other reasons as well. He's just so lovable!

CAMUS

From @uta-no-fakku-sama:

At the very beginning of my UtaPri interest, Camus never really caught my attention. That is until he became my first My Only Prince UR. I’ve come to appreciate him a lot more ever since, and now he’s become my favorite QUARTET NIGHT member! Along the way, I learned more about him and realized he’s one of the more complicated characters to understand. Nonetheless, I absolutely adore him. I tend to tease and make fun of him a lot, but deep down I truly do like him a whole bunch!

From @/waddamaloooon on twt: 

A little Camus appreciation post

(alternatively known as; how this guy managed to harshly take my heart and step on it like the gumin I am.)

Hello, this is Suikamaru, here to share a tiny story of why I, and eventually you, love Camus Rondo Cryzard.

At first glance, his looks appealed to me, but not his behavior (and ironically enough, his voice) so I didn't bat an eye on him. I've always been on a neutral leaning to dislike opinion on Camus, which is quite understandable because have you SEEN the way he acts. Unfathomable.

…..To a Young Suikamaru, that is.

I've grown, so naturally I've changed preferences regarding characters, ikemen, and who to stan and who to avoid like the plague. I will lie if I said that I expected to like that blonde confectionery devouring machine at any point of my life.

But it did happen so who are we fooling here.

It dawned on me that Camus is the type of character that you cannot appreciate unless you go in depth into his lore, backstory, and see him for who he really is. Because then everything else will make sense. And that never happened in my case until I started roleplaying as him.

I realized that he's not just a two faced, sweet toothed mean man. He's a perfectionist, someone who's always been raised since his childhood days to be nothing less than complete, who has locked on his heart and emotions to devote himself completely to the purpose given to him. He has the looks and brains for what though? He should be a little stupid honestly.

But his intelligence gave him the complexity that he just needed for his characteristics. Because as aforementioned, he's not someone to easily like or fall in love with. And I think that's quite rare in characters, and very much appreciated due to the fact it gives the fans a chance to not actually stay on a flat level of knowledge regarding their favorite characters.

I've slowly started to see myself in some aspects of him, which was the number one factor of liking him. Then came the Maeno magic when I realized Camus shares the same VA as another character that I love as well. (Hamelin, from SinoAlice.) From then, everything went downhill.

In a good way. I think..

Well, that is all from me, please read about this handsome man and appreciate his hard work both as an individual and as an idol. There is SO much to him that's p much overlooked and I'm getting broke from spending my money on his living expenses rent free in my head. Take him off my head.

#utapri #utanoprincesama #uta no prince sama #Reiji kotobuki #Kotobuki reiji #Ranmaru kurosaki #utapri camus #ai mikaze #mikaze ai #quartet night

[libra-kirishima]

Kinktober Day 11- Threesome (Spike Spiegel/Reader/Faye Valentine)

Catching up, baby! Here's my third piece of non-bnha content on this blog ever. Written last year but oddly relevant now that they announced a LA series?? (Also you can take somewhat canon Jewish Spike out of my cold dead hands.)

Warnings: NS/FW Content. Fem reader. Faye and Spike's bickering. Reader is Ed's sister but it's mentioned like once in passing. Nobody asked for this it's pure self indulgence.

The atmosphere on the Bebop felt like a Mexican standoff. Two pairs of eyes burned into you as you glanced down at the cards in your hands with disinterest. You had a royal flush, something you would be overjoyed about had the game not been abandoned long ago for something more interesting.

"What can I say? The ladies love me." Spike laughed. The three of you were sharing stories from before your paths crossed. Spike's (likely exaggerated) story of when a woman wanted and run away with him as he was hunting a bounty on Venus.

"Please," Faye rolled her eyes. "You hate women."

"I don't hate women, I just hate women with attitudes." He argued. You and Faye both quirked an eyebrow and stared at him. "What?"

"I've probably pleasured more women than you have." She laughed.

"What are you saying?" He questioned, although it sounded more like a challenge.

"I'm saying you're either too inexperienced or too selfish to be good in bed." She answered after a drag of her cigarette.

"How would you know what a woman likes?"

You couldn't help but laugh, and neither could Faye it seemed.

"I'll let you take a guess." She gestured herself up and down, allowing both of you to take in the sight of her curves through her pajamas. "Use your critical thinking skills." Spike fought off the urge to roll his eyes and instead turned to you.

"(Y/N), who do you think is better at sex?" He asked sincerely, clearly trying to prove a point.

"Oh, I'd love to find out." You answered. You weren't sure if his question was a joke or not, but after you gave your answer, it was clear this was no longer a joking manner.

And so began their standoff. You weren't sure how long you had been stuck like this, but with the way they both looked at you, then each other left you desperate for contact. For satisfaction. For something. (And ideally before Jet returned with your sister.) Your free hand reached over for the bottle of whiskey Spike had left on the table.

Liquid courage you thought to yourself before opening it and taking a swig.

"Listen," You sighed. "I'm bisexual and horny." Both of them raised their eyebrows in interest. "So can someone please make the first move before I-"

It was Spike who cut you off. With one swift move of his lanky arm he swiped all the contents off the coffee table, then reached over to lock his lips onto yours. Wasting no time, he gently tugged at your hair, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you gasped. He tasted like stale cigarette smoke, but you couldn't bring yourself to care with the way you melted into his touch.

"Hey!" Faye cried from her spot on the couch opposite him. Shortly after, you felt her crawl behind you and attach her lips to your neck. Her nimble hands reached around your form to dive between your thighs. At the same time, Spike's hands moved from your hair to your breasts, kneading at the clothed mounds. Faye's lips left your neck to focus on pulling your skirt up, and Spike's lips immediately took their place. He seemed determined to mark every inch of your skin as his. his. His.

Nobody else's.

He pulled your shirt off in one fluid motion and left more bruises on the newly exposed skin. Faye's hand slipped beneath your underwear and rubbed slow teasing circles into your clit. You let out a soft moan, letting your head roll back to rest on her shoulder. Spike took advantage of the easier access and attached to your neck once again, sucking a dark circular bruise at the hollow of your throat.

Faye's attention moved to Spike for a moment, watching him try to devour you like an animal.

"Trying to prove something?" She asked teasingly. "Our poor girl has so many hickies she looks like a leper." Your cheeks burned at her words. Less out of shame and more at the sound of being called 'our girl.' Your hands almost instinctively reached out to Spike again and pull his mouth back to your skin. He met Faye's gaze with a shit eating grin.

"I don't have to prove anything." He answered. "And you?"

She rolled her eyes. He didn't wait for a response. Spike's mouth trailed from your throat to the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach. Love bites were left in a straight line all the way down, stopping below your naval. You whined when he pulled away to admire his work.

A perfectly straight line. He thought to himself. An achievement only he cared about, sure, but God you looked so fucking good.

"Never knew you were a perfectionist." Faye snarked.

"Looks even better from the front." He joked back. Spike's attention was now fully on your body. "Quite a sight for sore eyes..." He mumbled to himself. His lips met yours once more in a kiss that was surprisingly tender for the man that just marked every inch of your skin as his own.

Something he was trying to savor.

He then moved to kiss all of the marks he left, trailing from your neck and shoulders down your collarbone, to your throat, between your breasts, and all the way down to where he left off below your naval. His hands made quick work of removing your skirt and panties, then throwing your legs over each of his shoulders. Your lips locked on to Faye's.

The taste of stale cigarette smoke was much easier to tolerate when mixed with the lingering taste of strawberry lipgloss.

Frustration washed over you in a second wave as Spike kept himself from where you needed him most. You let out a pathetic whine against Faye's lips. Spike muttered something to himself which you missed the first part of.

"Do something or I'll take your place and you can have your fun with my seconds- are you saying grace?!"

Faye's confusion peaked your interest at what the man between your legs was whispering to himself.

"-blessed are you Lord our God, King of the universe, by whose word all things came to be."

You and Faye locked eyes for a moment in amusement before you heard his voice again. "I've started praying before all of my meals again." You bit back a laugh, which died in your throat when he gave your clit an experimental suck. "Especially one this divine." He argued. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

And you couldn't bring yourself to care when he dove in and ate you out like a man starved. Her lips caught yours again, and swallowed your moans and cries as she worked to undress herself.

When she pulled away from you, your eyes watched her hungry and impatient as she slowly peeled what remained of her clothes off. You would savor it more if you could keep your eyes open. It was clear they were fighting for your attention. When Spike slipped two of his fingers in, you allowed yourself to fully lay back and let him take you however he wanted. Her weight sank into the chair across from you, watching Spike make you cum first. Her hand slid between her legs to match the pace at which Spike was fingering you. His fingers curled up to hit your g-spot, with a strong suction on your clit to match. His eyes watched you with pride as you reached your first orgasm of the evening.

"Faye," You called, still trying to catch your breath. You reached your hands out and made grabby motions, begging for her to come close to you once more. Spike made work of ridding himself of his suit, shamelessly drinking in Faye as he did so. You didn't have to say anything more. She already knew what you wanted. You moved your head to allow room for her legs on either side. She straddled your face and slowly lowered herself down to your waiting lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to waste time waiting for Spike. Your tongue had been desperate for her taste since you first met her eye. The craving burned inside of you when you first got the taste of her lips. Strawberry and cigarette smoke lingered in your mind. A reminder that she was once there, insatiable until you got your hands on her again.

Now you had something to prove.

Your arms reached up to lock her legs in place around your head, hands kneading at the soft flesh to remind her that she belonged there. With your head between her legs, eating her pussy like it was your last meal.

It was ambrosia. The nectar of the gods. Heaven was between Faye's thighs and you wanted to spend the rest of your life savoring the taste.

You almost didn't notice Spike spreading your legs apart to slide inside of you. Relief flooded you when he slipped fully inside, your hips meeting his. He grabbed your hips with a grip that indicated to you he had no intention to be gentle.

You didn't want him to be.

His pace was brutal and sloppy. His pleasure was the only thing he could think of. All other thoughts were clouded by thehe way your cunt sucked him back in when he pulled out, like it was made for him. Like he belonged there. The the tight, wet warmth of your body had him practically drooling. He was obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with each thrust.

He used your cunt like he owned it, and was going to be the death of you. Your mouth stilled with each time he hit your cervix with the tip of his cock. Spike's lips met Faye's in a sloppy kiss, more teeth and tongue than anything else. A truce of sorts. You felt one of Faye's hands reach behind her to grab at your hair. Spike's left hand loosened the bruising grip on your hips to rub at your clit. The way you tightened around him as you got closer almost made him cum himself. He couldn't hold out for much longer. His pace got harder and faster. His fingers pressing against your clit was making you feel so good that you were in tears under Faye.

"That's it, baby. Let yourself go." He coaxed. You hardly needed an invitation. Your pussy tightening around him as your orgasm washed over you was just what he needed to let himself go as well. He bit into Faye's bottom lip as he came inside of you. White warmth flooded your insides and flowed out onto your skin when he pulled out. The vibrations of your moans against Faye's clit let her orgasm hit her soon after. Her body shook on top of you as she squirted all over your chest.

Spike wished he had a camera on him. The memories of this would be good enough for him to never watch porn again. He leaned back to catch his breath. You and Faye both collapsed on his chest, allowing yourselves to do the same.

The silence was broken by you after what felt like a lifetime.

"Alright, team. Good game! Let's hit the showers and then we'll do it again." You joked. The two of them raised their eyebrows at you. "What? In order to give a fair answer as to who's better, I need to get a good understanding of both of you." You left the two of them for the bathroom.

Spike and Faye looked at each other, then back to where you once stood, then back to each other.

"Don't you fucking think about it-" Faye started, but Spike didn't bother to listen. He pushed her off and ran after you to the shower.

"Too late. I've got something to prove."

"Ugh."

Faye followed suit, tugging him back by his hair to beat him to where you were.

#i don't remember the source of that gif i found it in my phone #if u made this gif and want me to credit u pls reach out to me bc it's great work n i love it #ns/fw #cowboy bebop imagines #cowboy bebop x reader #spike Spiegel x reader #Spike Spiegel imagines #faye Valentine x reader #Faye Valentine imagines #cowboy bebop smut #cowboy bebop #long post #pronouns used: she/her/hers

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Pt.6

...We Both Will Drop

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 4820

Summary: In which the mission to retrieve stones is on and you and Steve arrive to Vormir. Some things are simply... inevitable.

Warnings: (we all know what’s coming don’t we), blood and violence, character death, mentions of suicide, language

A/N: Don’t blame me, it’s the large scheme and shit. *runs and hides in a middle of nowehere*

Part 5

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Everyone on the team had been through having their heart broken at least once; hell, find one of humankind who hadn’t. After the Snap, it was an impossible task; even children, when asked, felt like something was missing to them, feeling a deeply-embedded longing they couldn’t quite comprehend. Surely, they wouldn’t use such big words, having only been five years old now, but the sentiment was all the same.

And when all humanity felt like that, there was little space for hope.

However, the hope that barely started to take roots in the team when they figured out a way to unlimitedly travel in time and space, grew rapidly when Natasha winced in a middle of summarizing the plan once more; only to reveal that the source of pain was… insane.

It was a tattoo-like message on her collarbone.

She had received a new set of words. And they happened to be written in Sam Wilson’s handwriting, a sentence little snarky and little sappy and… no one blamed Scott for asking the question that itched everyone on the tip of their tongue.

“So… that means we succeed, right? And they meet again, more or less for the first time? I mean, we already saw a case like that.”

Despite the cold shiver running up your spine, your heart was wrapped in a fluffy warmth at that thought. It would be worth it. The sacrifice made will be worth it.

You swiftly dried the tear forming in the corner of your eye at the memory of Natasha’s reluctant but bright smile before Steve could notice. You followed him as he climbed towards the peak of which your instincts told you was exactly the place to go.

He was gallantly helping you to follow without a single ‘I told you so,’ even when you slipped and nearly face-planted. Instead, he smiled at you tenderly, concern furrowing his brow, but not once he complained about you being a liability instead of the help you were supposed to provide.

Vormir was an inhospitable planet. All built of rocks, with icy wind, sweeping snowflakes into your face and you were grateful for your gloves and Steve’s broad shoulders that shielded you at least partly.

Finally reaching a plateau, you were welcomed by a creature floating above the surface; his face red, a bald scalp, head stripped to a bone with nearly no skin, muscles or fat, partly hidden by a hood of his tattered cloak.

You never liked studying history, but even you knew who this was – or who he seemed to be. If Steve’s face and posture was anything to go by, he thought the same.

But that couldn’t be, right? The Red Skull had died- disappeared when touching an Infinity Stone. Would it really be so crazy if he was still connected to one?

“Steven, son of Sarah,” the peculiar creature welcomed your soulmate with a hiss, repeating a greeting of similar nature with you, only showing off he knew your father’s name, not mother’s like with Steve, and obviously calling you a daughter.

Which wasn’t creepy at all.

“You-“ Steve only growled and was already lunging at the man, only for his body to go through him as if the figure was nothing but a unsubstantial illusion.

You yelped in fright for Steve, but he didn’t even fall to the ground, his training preparing him for more surprising situations that his opponent being immaterial.

The Red Skull appeared to be annoyed at Steve’s antics at best; he didn’t make any attempt at attacking either him or you, only watching you with freakily knowing gaze as if he already learned your purpose here. Which was impossible, right?

But was it?

“Steve… I don’t think we need to fight him,” you whispered, averting the piercing glare of the Skull on you.

Steve looked at you as if you were crazy and threw himself on the cloaked figure again; shockingly, with the very same result.

It was an irony for God’s pleasure, you guessed, Steve fighting an old enemy, an enemy that couldn’t be defeated it seemed. Funny metaphor of his life no one laughed at; certainly not you.

Feeling two pairs of eyes on you now, you shivered.

“You don’t, indeed,” the Skull howled over the wind that picked up. “I know why you’re here and I only act as a guide. No matter how much I’d like to go another round with you, Captain, that is all I am.”

Steve snarled, but didn’t come after him again, stopping in mid-motion when you gently placed a hand of his shoulder. He ended up only leaning forward, ready to strike, shield in his hand.

He was handsome even with the scowl on his face, you thought absently and quickly brushed it off, scolding yourself for such ideas at a time like this. But why wouldn’t you let your mind wander into such territory? At the moment, you felt strangely detached from the whole scene in front of you. You wondered if that would change or if you could fulfil your purpose with your soul at peace.

“Then guide us,” Steve hissed, protectively standing between you and the Red Skull.

“Careful what you wish for, Captain.”

You followed the floating figure towards the edge of the plateau, stopping several feet from a bottomless gulf.

You closed your eyes when the vertigo overtook you, the crushing weight of your mission causing you to sway. Steve allowed you to lean onto his body, your palm sprawled across his chest, and he pulled you even farther from the edge into safer distance.

“Why are you showing us this?”

“Because that is the face of destiny you’re staring into,” your guide explained, a smirk forming on his face. Steve instantly let you go in favour to brace himself for the fight to come. Except you already knew it wouldn’t come; not the fight Steve was readying himself for. “I’m not gonna push either of you, Captain. You manage that on your own.”

“What makes you think we would ever do that?”

“The fact that it’s what we need to do to get the Stone,” you answered quietly to the question Steve had spitted out, earning a horrified glance from him.

“Indeed. A Soul Stone is a special entity. To get a hold of it, you must sacrifice a soul. You have found yourself a smart wife, Captain, for she knows this. Too bad she won’t be able to make it back.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve snarled and for a good measure grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the floating figure.

“That certainly is an option too.”

“Fuck. You. Liar!” Steve snapped at him and not even his anger moved you this time. Anger was good. Anger was familiar and in a pleasant contrast to your serenity returning.

“Am I? Or does your team have another explanation for Gamora’s death? Never in my lifetime I thought I’d see a Titan shed tears…” the Skull mused.

Steve’s eyes met yours as he faced you and what he saw in them must have shook him to a core, because his face lost all colour, his irises flashing with rage and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“He’s a slippery bastard, doll. I don’t trust one word-“

Denial. The other thing you saw in his eyes was denial.

“I do,” you breathed out softly, tears finally appearing in your eyes as your scarily high walls that had kept you detached from the whole ordeal came slowly crumbling down. “Thanos arrived here with whom he considered his daughter. And she didn’t make it back.”

Your heart skipped a beat, startled when Steve’s large palms gripped your shoulders and shook you.

“He’s tricking us, that’s what he does! Don’t let him play with your head,” he thundered, his fingers digging into your muscle even through your thick coat, strong enough to bruise.

Swallowing thickly as Steve stared at you, pleading, determined and still unwilling to accept the reality laid in front of him. You forced yourself not to avert his gaze when you responded in a whisper, a sound nearly lost in the howling wind.

“You know he’s telling the truth, Steve.”

You felt hollow. The cold started to seep through your clothing, or maybe it was coming from the inside, leaving your fingers and nose freezing in a desperate attempt to warm your torso up.

Steve’s hands slid from your shoulders as if they lost all strength, his own shoulders slumping, light shake of his head when he turned away from you, fingers plunging in his hair for the shortest of moments before facing you again.

You could see the shift in his attitude; you could see the fight vaporizing from his body, all harshness dissolved and blossoming into tenderness you didn’t deserve at the moment.

Yet you let him touch you, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation, ignoring the weight in your stomach and letting yourself indulge the kindness of his touch. A lightest brush of fingers along your jaw, over your cheekbones, the pad of is thumb running over your no doubt purple lips.

He was committing himself to a memory of you and you loved him for it more than you could put into words, warm tears escaping from under your eyelids. He was a good man. Once again, he understood what had to be done and that for some reason, God seemed to hate him, asking him to sacrifice his own happiness in favour of others. He had to let you go.

“Then I go,” he breathed out and you snapped your eyes open, startled.

Of course, he got it wrong.

God, you were such an idiot, you should have known.

You threw your arms around him, tight embrace he didn’t fight, burying his face in your neck instead.

“We both know I can’t let you do that, Steve,” you negotiated, allowing the harshness of your attitude – read, thinking he was being utterly stupid – into your voice. He didn’t seem to mind, breathing in deeply, melting into your frame and you knew it was time to act before he could.

You managed to sneak one arm lower, around his waist instead. He just adjusted the hug, his lips brushing your cheek, angrily red from the whips by the biting cold.

“I love you, sweetheart. You were right. You had to come here with me,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard your protest and you squeezed your eyes shut, more burning tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck, how much you hated this. “You’ll get the Stone back, yeah? And you live a life. Buck, Sam, Ryan, Pietro… they’ll be back and take care of you. They all love you too. Hey, you might even get a third soulmark-”

“Steve-“ you couldn’t help but growl at his dickish words.

“Shh, doll. It’s all going to be okay. “

Moving your hands over his back as he rubbed to-be-soothing circles on your own, your trembling fingers got a hold of what you were looking for in one of the pockets on his belt. You were a terrible actress, even worse spy, but here you were, succeeding in the worst mission you had ever been given; not that there had been many to compete with.

God sucked as a boss and clearly was short off staff if he was sending the king of Hell as his messenger.

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, basking in the warmth he was radiating, the irreplaceable sensation of safety and content his arms around you offered, something you would miss immensely.

“Promise?” you mumbled, choking on a sob, the hatred for yourself deeper than ever in your life.

You needed that promise. What did it matter Steve didn’t know what he was promising? You had no clue what was awaiting you; he couldn’t either. But he was a good man, you had learned that in thousands different ways through your years together.

“Promise.”

“…it’s going to be okay,” you repeated after him and he squeezed you tighter, as much as you squeezed the object in your palm.

“One for the road?” he mumbled, voice shaky, never letting you to answer him before his lips found yours, thirsty and demanding, breathing your soul in, leaving you feel floaty. You nibbled at his lower lip in response, low growl rumbling in his chest, echoing against your own ribcage, the kiss consuming your whole being.

One for the road, your mind parroted dreamily and you instinctively melted into Steve’s frame, indulging the last kiss of your lifetime.

Christ, that fact alone caused your chest to constrict with blinding panic, your tears like waterfalls.

You inhaled shakily as Steve withdrew with a sigh, both of you turning to the Red Skull.

Steve stepped forward, never registering your little theft.

How could he?

He had been through so much, enough punches to his face and back-stabbing for a life-time. He had learned how to stay alert, to expect another blow at any moment. You could tell he was never letting go of that, not entirely, not even with his friends, no matter how it crushed his good soul, his faith in people. He was always ready to look for danger so he could avoid another stab in the back. But not with you.

Never with you.

Which had been exactly what you had relied on when you did what you did. The analogy with back-stabbing wasn’t even funny.

“Alright. What do I have to do?” Steve asked with determination, his voice only wavering enough for you to hear it, and the stone-keeper looked at him with one corner of his mouth raised in an evil cocky smirk.

Bastard. Enjoying this a little too much.

“You mourn, Captain,” he whispered and met your eyes as you subtly undone a part of your coat. He must have noticed then, unlike Steve. Or maybe he truly had known all along, even before you had come here.

Seeing Steve already spinning on his heels when he understood the guide was having a wordless conversation with you, you had no time to actually brace yourself before wrapping both of your hands around the handle and driving the blade into your torso.

No one had told you it would hurt like motherfucker, but no one had told you how loud Steve’s scream would seem even over the ringing in your ears either.

No one had warned you that pulling the blade away would be really fucking hard, impossible even. But you had lived in the impossible for the past eight years, hadn’t you? You tore it away with a grunt, shocked at the dull agony.

You had planned two stabs, just not to give Steve any ideas, but the blinding pain slowed your movements. Before the tip of the knife could as much as graze you skin for the second time, Steve was easily twisting it from your hold and throwing it away.

You watched the weapon clank on the stony surface of the plateau, leaving droplets of crimson in the snow, hypnotized by the contrast.

The moment Steve’s hands touched you, your knees gave away and the throbbing in the wound intensified as you nearly collapsed to the ground. But he was here – he was always here to catch you, strong arms supporting you and shakily helping you to sit down.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to tear your gaze away from the blood and look up at him. His face was drained of all colour – funny, yours must have too, mustn’t it? –, his expression pure horror, blue and green fighting in his terrified eyes.

“What did you do?” he demanded breathlessly. “Oh god, what did you do?!”

You would think it was obvious, but your head spun too much to point that out. Too many words to form. Too much work.

“Played my part,” you mumbled instead.

Inspecting the wound shortly, but very much painfully, Steve was fast to press against it and make you howl in agony. And shit, there was so much blood… who would have thought there would be so much so fast? It was strangely warm against your body, soon cooling off. The contrast was fascinating.

“Fuck- hey, hey, you’re going to be okay! Look at me!” Steve ordered and the commanding voice left your fingers tingling. Or was it the cold? “We’ll get you to the compound and then I’ll be back here, figuring it out, okay? Now, breathe with me and do not-“

You smiled at him kindly or at least you attempted it. He was a true fighter in heart, never giving up. That was why you had needed to injure yourself fatally, which he effectively attempted to avoid when disarming you. But the biting cold prevented your body from resisting the brutal intrusion. The fact you had pulled out the stopper out in attempt to stab again had probably helped.

A part of you was getting nauseous at such formulation, at being content at succeeding in… yeah, there was no euphemism for this, it was a fucking suicide. A different part yelled ‘good’, because that had been the plan.

What Steve was offering sounded so, so tempting. He would make sure to pamper you when you got to the compound, falling asleep in the chair, holding your hand, sitting guard by your bedside and you would be warm, feeling oh so immensely loved… but you couldn’t allow that.

You forced the next words out of your mouth while your brain yelled at you to just give in and nod instead.

“No. Steve… I’m already halfway gone. You need to throw me-“

“NO! No! Not a fucking option!“ he bellowed, his vision possibly gaining crimson edges of rage if his expression was anything to go by. It was swimming in front of your eyes, but even in his anger, he was so damn beautiful. A piece of art. Man too beautiful not to be sculptured by angels themselves. “What were you thinking?!”

I wasn’t thinking. God had. The King of Hell told me to do it. This way we win, you know?

“We both know I won’t make it there if you try to take me-“

“You will!“ he spat back stubbornly, his frame shaking and you suspected it wasn’t because of the temperature. No, either he was pissed off beyond belief or… or scared. Because he was well-aware of the fact you were right.

Your body started feeling like floating, your eyes turning to the sky on their own and you gritted your teeth, fighting it.

Not yet. Not fucking yet. Not until he knew this wasn’t on him, that this was something you simply had to do.

“Steve, Stevie- this is why I was resurrected. This is it. I go, so you could continue the mission, get the Stone back, fight whatever fight might come. I’m so sorry for this, but you know it has to be me.”

He looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes that you would have thought you stabbed him. He shook his head violently, trembling hands pushing harder against your wound and making you let out a sound way too close to a whine. You thought at least. The ringing in your ears was getting louder and the world was losing its colours… or was it like this the whole time, on this planet? You couldn’t remember…

Yet, you would swear that a crack in his conviction appeared on his face, one he swiftly disguised and shook off, determination replacing it as he fought the tears streaming down his face. You felt nothing but relief when you realized he started accepting the truth, started accepting what was happening. What had to happen.

“No. No, that’s not true.”

Your next words tasted bitter and dripped venom, but you said them anyway, a harsh reminder of your first goodbye. You hated yourself for speaking them; however, Steve had to understand.

“We’re out of time, Steve,” you mumbled, your tongue growing heavy, funny taste on it. “We’re always out of time.”

“Please, doll, not again, I can’t-“ The way he choked on his sob told you your shot found its target, the memory crushing his hope, slowly, but surely forcing him to resign. The calm you had felt when you arrived here returned, embracing you gently and you hoped your attempt at smile turned out decent.

“You can. You’re the brave-“ You hissed in pain as you wanted to straighten yourself just a bit, to be closer to him, instantly regretting not asking Steve to move you instead. Fuck, that hurt. “-bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s bullshit-” he spitted out, but he helped you sit up straighter, allowing you to nearly drown in the pools of his irises.

God, he was so beautiful, even in his grief, eyes red-rimmed, his nose running. He was yours. Always yours, you knew as much.

“My hero-“

“I’m not a Captain for while, you know,” he chucked humourlessly, a glint of something you didn’t like displaying on his face. “Just let me take you-“

“Not the Captain,” you shook your head, lamenting yourself for muddling it up. Calling him your hero was a bad, very bad idea. But you couldn’t think anymore, your head was buzzing with too many thoughts, wrapped in sensation of endless pain radiating from your gut. “You, S-s-stevie. Now let me go.”

“NO!”

“If I d-die before-re you throw m-me-“ you negotiated, only to be interrupted by the creature you had completely forgotten was there as well.

“She’s right,” the Red Skull confirmed flatly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Steve roared, not bothering to look at him as he gathered you in his arms, not without a serious wave of vertigo on your part. And pain. Fuck, always pain. Being stabbed fucking hurt.

He only stood, torn between the tinniest chance at your survival and doing the right thing. It was ridiculous and disgusting how much it reminded you of your first goodbye. Left, or right door? You or millions, this time?

“Doll-“

“’s okay, Stevie. I love you. Al-always. Br-- the edge. ‘d let go,” you breathed out, your words slurring as you were losing control. He must throw you soon. That sucked. You would like few more moments with him.

Or a lifetime. Kisses, cuddles, playful lovemaking, friends and kids… maybe you could adopt, or just keep trying…

Steve’s features twisted in denial, jaw clenched, but it did nothing to disguise the tremble in it. His eyes were squeezed shut, glittering drops of salty water escaping, your own waterfalls never stopping. You clenched your teeth with effort to raise your hand, bloody fingers caressing his smooth cheek.

“’s ‘kay.”

He shook his head desperately, but his grip grew firmer, his steps heavy as he carried you to the edge as if he was about to meet his own end.

You swallowed your own sobs.

You didn’t want to die. You wished you could say you were at peace, you had thought you were but you weren’t. Yet, you needed to convince Steve about the opposite – again.

Life was so fucking unfair.

If that was true though… was at least death just?

Your eyes flickered to the terrible chasm, vertigo taking over once more at the image of just how long the fall would last.

Endless seconds of free fall.

But it wouldn’t be the fall that would kill you, would it now? It would be the landing.

It was always the landing.

Hovering above the edge in Steve’s arms, his eyes turned up towards the colourful sky, as if he was trying to keep his tears at bay or simply couldn’t look at you. Seconds felt like hours. Like forever, even. It was obvious he couldn’t make himself let go.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could he, after all? You wouldn’t if in his place, your roles reversed.

“Down-“ you muttered lowly and he instantly obeyed with his gaze returning to you.

The gaze he focused on you would always be carved into your memory, even in death, you had no doubt. You never knew a man could say so much about the agony that was tearing him apart with one look, but here he was. Your Steve.

When he kneeled, lowering your body to the ground, his hold slacking a fraction, you knew it was time. You forced another teary smile, lips quivering, no longer able to tell if it was from pain, the cold seeping into your bones and core or simple fear.

What was waiting at the bottom? More pain or something else? Maybe the peace, finally? How would you be able to rest in peace though, knowing you were leaving Steve behind?

“S-so good t-to me,” you breathed out shakily, memorizing every feature, every wrinkle of laughter and worry, even as the darkness started eating out the edges of your vision. You needed to go, now. You gathered the last remnants of strength, bracing yourself. “Love ya’.”

Propping your palms against his chest, you pushed away from him, the feeling of the sudden lack of ground under your body dizzying.

Wind slapped your cheeks, freezing the tears in your eyes and cutting through the wound.

The gale carried Steve’s broken scream to your ears and you sent him one last whispered sorry.

The fall seemed to have no end. But for once, God was truly merciful; you didn’t feel the landing.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Seeing their past selves was strange to say at least and Natasha mused how long of a path they had all walked since the first assemble of the Avengers.

In a way, it carried hope too though. She had buried hope for her soulmate and lost friends a long time ago; but now it was back. They had retrieved the Stones from New York relatively smoothly – though Clint had got a bit perplexed at having his soul punched out of his body by the Sorcerer Supreme – and were on their way back to their time.

This mission was a pretty ambitious stretch from Budapest. She had told so to Clint and found herself honestly smiling at his burst of laughter after years of mourning. Some lives had been ruined, but others still remained; and the chances that what they had lost in the dust could be brought back had concrete outlines now; outlines visible on her own skin as well. Her chest ached, but her heart fluttered with the memory of her soulmate.

Her feet landed on the platform with a rather ungraceful thud, but she still managed to keep herself standing upright. One glance around was all she spent to check up on everyone; only to find two people missing.

Blood froze in her veins, the satisfied smile at completed mission slipping from her face as her heart changed its pace from excited to horrified.

No.

No, this was not how this was supposed to go! Everyone should have come back!

So why was one whole pair missing? Why-

Strangely enough, her horror only escalated when she noticed that it was in fact one person missing only; because the other was on the platform with them, closer to the ground that she had expected, stripped of the nano-suit, stealth suit darker as it was dripping water; pink as it mixed with crimson stains on his thighs and torso.

No.

Oh no.

This was not happening. It couldn’t. Not again.

Steve had fallen to his knees, hands by his side clenched in tight fists. Blankly staring ahead, not actually seeing anything in front of him, a smudge of red – three lines clearly drawn by bloody fingertips – on his cheek and his face free of any colour and emotion telling enough of a story; screaming a story, in fact.

Natasha’s insides twisted painfully and she nearly spilled the contents of her stomach. She recognized that look – she had seen it before on Steve. On herself in a mirror.

Tears stinging in her eyes, she took a shaky step towards him, her heart weeping and grieving for her friends.

“…Steve?” Bruce questioned lowly from behind the machine he had controlled, but it only filled the deadly silence.

They all already knew what happened – or understood enough.

The Stone giving away warm amber glow slipped from Steve’s palm, his fingers plunging in his hair and gripping tightly, pulling enough to make it hurt like hell no doubt.

Yet, Natasha was well-aware it did nothing to dull the deep visceral pain that overtook his whole being, swallowed his whole shattered soul.

A guttural moan left his lips as he curled into himself and she didn’t bother blinking away her tears anymore.

Nothing she could do would sooth his grief. Yet, she placed her trembling palm on Steve’s shoulder in attempt to ground him, to show him she was there for him.

A desperate shriek, a helpless cry loud enough to tear ear-drums and hearts, cut the thick air of the compound and the large frame of a supersoldier went limp, swaying aside.

Natasha didn’t try and stop the fall. God knew that he would be falling for too long anyway.

The fucked-up thing about this kind of fall was that the landing, the only thing that could bring relief, would never come.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Epilogue

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

HOLD THE FIRE!

If you don’t kill me, you might get an epilogue, you know? One you might actually like. Just SAYING!

Also, thank you for reading :-*

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