NOTE. my third time writing a birthday oneshot for him <33 three years of love for him <33
Bakugouâs on his fourth drink when he finally feels himself loosening up. Just enough to finally be honest with himself.Â
It was his twenty-seventh birthday. He didnât feel twenty-seven.Â
He felt older, yes. He felt like heâd lived three different lifetimes, and somewhere along the way, heâd lost track of which one was supposed to be hisâwhich one was supposed to be for him and only him.
âHey, Bakugou! Thereâs more drinks here!â Dunce Face tells him.
Bakugou didnât move from where he peered from the balcony. He did lift his glass instead, showing his friends. Still full. He heard Shitty Hair whoop and Soy Face chuckle. The party continued.
It was a good party. A great one, even.
Sero had brought those ridiculous sparkler candles shaped like the numbers two and seven. Mina had baked a cake that was somehow both burnt and undercooked in the middleâa note to himself that the cake was probably a health hazard for consumption, and everyone had taken a bite of the cooked part because sheâd cried when she pulled it out of the box. Even Halfie had shown up, which wasnât rare these days, and he brought a bottle of sake so expensive that it earned Bakugouâs respect. He had acquired taste, thankfully.
Life was good. That was the thing. Life was genuinely, uncomplicatedly good; he couldnât even find something to whine about.
He ranked number five, climbing steadily, and by âsteadilyâ he meant still being able to compete with Deku. He had time. Actual time to enjoy leisure. Heâd taken up woodworking of all things, and there was something deeply satisfying about shaping raw lumber into something solid, something that would last.Â
So why did it still feel like someone had reached into his chest and left the door open?
The whiskey burned on the way down. Bakugou poured himself another.Â
âYouâre still thinking about her,â Deku had said. It wasnât even a question at this point.
He didnât bother denying it. Didnât even sigh.
âShut up.â
âWell, youâve been staring at the same spot on the floor for twenty minutes, Kacchan. Youâre not even blinking.â
âMaybe Iâm counting the stains.â
âWeâre in your house. There are no stains.â
Bakugou exhaled sharply through his nose. He tilted his head back, let his eyes drift to the stars above him. Whiskeyâs done its job, and all he had to do now was be honest with himself.
âFive years,â he said quietly.
Deku didnât even push the subject. He just waited, the way heâd always been.
âFive years,â Bakugou repeated. âAnd I stillââ He swallowed. The words felt like broken glass in his throat. It refused to come out for a while. âI still fuckinâ dream about her, Izuku. Is that pathetic? Is that the most pathetic shit youâve ever heard?â
âNo,â Deku replied kindly. âItâs not pathetic at all. Itâs love.â
Bakugou snorted.
âLove. Yeah. Look where that got me.â
But that was the problem, wasnât it? That was the whole goddamn problem.
Love made him see the other side of him that he didnât know ever existed. It made him go through lengths he didnât even know were physically and emotionally possible. Love made him feel like heâd lost a limb once it was nearing its end.
He still remembers the night you told him you were sorry. He remembered the way the words had landed. Like heâd been thrown through a building and dragged back. Then, Bakugou had stood there in the doorway, still in his hero costume, still smelling of smoke and sweat from the mission heâd just come back from, and heâd felt the ground fall out from under him.
âIâm sorry for wasting four years, Katsuki.âÂ
You were crying as you told him this, and Bakugou had no idea that this memory would haunt him for the years to come.
âDonât,â heâd said, and his voice had come out rougher than he intended, rougher than heâd ever wanted. âDonât you dare apologize to him.â
You flinched. Your hands loosened on the bag you carried. âKatsukiââ
âNo.â
Bakgou crossed the room in three strides and stopped just short of touching you because he knew if he touched you, he wouldnât let go. And if he didnât let go, then he would be selfish enough that he couldnât bear the thought of hindering you from what you truly wanted.
âWhatever you think you did wrong, whatever reason youâre leaving, you donât get to stand there and say sorry like you owe me something. You donât owe me shit.â
âThatâs not true.â You shook your head. âYou did so much for me. Youââ
âBecause I wanted to.âÂ
He said it fiercely, almost angrily, as if he could burn away your guilt with sheer force of will. âEvery goddamn thing I did for you, I did because I chose to. Because I loved you. You donât get to apologize for that. You donât get to carry that.â
Youâd stared at him then, your lips parted, your tears finally spilling over. And for one terrible, hopeful moment that he didnât think heâd be wishing for, heâd thought you might stay. Heâd thought maybe youâd drop the suitcase and walk into his arms and youâd figure it out the way you always had.
But you didnât.
Youâd just nodded, slow and sad, and whispered, âThatâs why I have to go.â
He hadnât understood it then. Heâd spent months after you left turning those words over in his head like a puzzle with missing pieces, trying to find the logic, trying to find the flaw in himself that had made you walk away. Even if you and he had already talked about itâmonths before. Heâd been angryâfurious, even. Heâd wanted to track you down and demand answers, demand explanations, demand the kind of closure that didnât exist outside of movies and cheap novels.
He had the answers already. He had the explanations.Â
Before you left, there had been closure. One that haunted him because of how civil it had been. How at peace you two were with it.
But the anger had faded. Eventually, all that was left was the quiet, hollow ache of someone whoâd once had something precious and had watched it slip through their fingers despite holding on with everything they had.
âHave you ever thought about what youâd say to her?â Deku asked, pulling him back to the present.
Bakugou considered the question longer than he should have. Because after all this time, five years, he shouldâve had a concrete answer. He didnât.
âI donât know,â he admitted. âI used to have a whole speech planned. Forgot about it now.â
Deku nodded in understanding.
Bakugou rolled the whiskey glass between his palms, watching the amber liquid catch the light. âI think Iâd just⌠ask her if sheâs happy.â
Deku was quiet for a moment. Then, gently, âDo you think she is?â
Bakugou thought about the last time heâd seen you. Not the night you leftâheâd trained himself not to replay that memory too oftenâbut the time before that. A random Sunday, three weeks before everything fell apart. Youâd been standing in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing his old high school hoodie, humming something off-key while you stirred a pot of curry. Youâd looked at him then, with a smile.
The one that crinkled the corners of your eyes and made you look like youâd just won something. The one thatâs burned into his eyelids and has a special place in his mind.
Heâd kissed your forehead that day. Told you heâd be home late. And youâd said, âIâll leave the porch light on.â
That was love. That quiet, mundane, devastating kind of love that didnât announce itself with fireworks or grand gestures. It was porch lights and old hoodies and curry on a Sunday. And he hadnât known, standing there in that kitchen, that he was already running out of Sundays.
âI donât know,â Bakugou finally said. âI hope so. I fucking hope she is.â
Because what was the alternative? That youâd left him for nothing? That youâd spent the last five years as miserable as heâd been? He couldnât carry that. He wouldnât. Heâd meant what he said that nightâyou didnât owe him an apology, and you didnât owe him your unhappiness either.
Deku reached over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. âYouâre ok, Kacchan. You know that, right?â
âTch. Donât fuck with me.â
âIâm serious. Most people wouldâve turned bitter after something like that. You just⌠kept going. Kept growing. Thatâs not nothing.â
Bakugou shrugged him off, but there was no heat in it.Â
âWhat else was I supposed to do? Sit around and rot?â
âSome people do.â
âYeah, well.â He finished the last of his whiskey and set the glass down with a decisive clink. âIâm not some people.â
The house felt unlived in after his friends had left. Bakugou wandered through the rooms like a ghost, turning off lights, locking windows, performing the mechanical rituals of the end of a night. His bedroom was dark, the sheets still tucked tight from that morning, and he stood in the doorway for a long moment before walking to the closet.
He didnât know why he did it. He almost never did it anymore. But his hand reached up to the top shelf, pushed aside a stack of old hoodies, and found the box.
It was small. Plain. Nothing he should let haunt him. Heâd told himself a hundred times to throw it away, to burn it, to drop it in the ocean and be done with it. But he never had. Some part of himâthe weak, vulnerable part, the part heâd never admit toâneeded the proof that youâd existed.Â
That theyâd existed.
Inside the box: a dried flower from your first anniversary, pressed between the pages of a book youâd loved. A ticket stub from a movie youâd seen on a whim. A napkin youâd doodled on at a diner at three in the morning, little cartoon explosions with smiley faces. And at the bottom, a photograph.
They were candids, taken by Mina at some group event years ago. You were laughing at something off-camera, your head tilted back, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. And Bakugouâyounger Bakugou, twenty-two and stupid and so full of fireâwas looking at you like youâd hung the moon. Maybe you did.Â
He remembered that night. He remembered the way your fingers had felt on his sleeve. He remembered thinking, This is it. This is my whole life right here.
And now you were gone. And he was twenty-seven. And the world hadnât ended, which was somehow the strangest part of all.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the photograph in his hands, and for the first time in five years, he let himself really feel it. Not the anger. Not the confusion. Just the loss. Raw and unvarnished and so heavy it made his ribs ache.
âI miss you,â he said aloud, and his voice sounded strange in the empty room. âI fucking miss you.â
There was no answer. There never was.
Bakugou blew out his birthday cake earlier and wished that there still was.Â
Whatever âwasâ was, he didnât know anymore.
He stayed there for a long time, long enough for the city lights to dim and the first gray light of dawn to creep through the curtains. Then he put the photograph back in the box, put the box back on the shelf, and lay down in his too-big bed in his too-quiet house.
He didnât sleep. He stared at the ceiling and thought about porch lights. About Sundays. About the way love didnât end just because someone leftâit just changed shape, became something else, something with thorns, and became harder to hold.
âHappy birthday to me,â he muttered, and closed his eyes.
Outside, the city continued living. Inside, Bakugou let the ghosts have their due. And when the morning came, he got up, made coffee, and went back to being the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.
Because that was what he did. He kept going. Even when love haunted him. Even when the porch light stayed off.
He kept going.
SEUMYO Š 2026. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
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warnings: implied female reader in one ss but otherwise gender neutral, message screenshots, random character mix, use of pet names, quick post (not really this was over the span of a few days,) ooc?
notes: thank you for the likes on my last 2 posts (tokyo revengers and yakuza) :) im making a introductory / pinned post soon, let me know any feedback in inbox .⌠ÝË
Summary: They say there is a thin line between love and hate. But they never told him crossing that line was dangerous. Idol!AU
Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Power imbalance, Sexual themes, If youâre not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: see, he was serving looks for days in Paris that I knew I had to do this đ this is an 8k one-shot. I hope you enjoy!
Jung Hoseokâs smile faltered when you entered the dressing room, much to Jiminâs amusement. He was in the middle of a sentence, literally in the middle and the moment you entered, Hobi faltered. This was not the first time. No- this had been happening ever since you became one of the groupâs temporary staff. It had been three months now, and not a day went by that he did not flounder when you entered the room he was in.
One may think it was because the main dancer liked you.
They couldnât be more wrong.
Hobi could not stand you. He could not even smile at you. He could not even mention your name without gagging. And yes, he was that dramatic.
Jimin watched his hyung as the said hyung followed your movement with daggers in his eyes. It entertained him to no end. He, together with the other members, could not pinpoint the reason why the seemingly always happy J-hope treated you that way. Regardless, he would take advantage of Hobiâs current state.
âSo my take is okay now, right?â Jimin asked slyly, taking advantage of the fact that you were now here and that he wouldnât have to suffer anymore on another take just because it was not up to his standard.
Hobi nodded absentmindedly, drinking from his water bottle as he kept on watching, wellâŚmore like glaring on your form.
âYou donât think I should move a little to the left, right?â Jimin clarified with mischief in his eyes. Hobi blinked before turning to him. He looked at the tablet he was holding where the dance record was transferred for him to review. He frowned before looking down at it again.
âJimin, I think you should do-â
âHey guys, back to studio in five minutes,â you passed on the order from the director, your smile pleasant and respectful as you looked at Jimin, and slowly shifted your gaze at the emotionless Hobi who didnât even lift his eyes to look at you.
âOkay, Y/N. Thank you,â Jimin replied before telling you that they would be there. You nodded your head slowly, glancing at the stoic Hobi before lowering your gaze and going back to the studio. It was no secret to the other staff, and to the members as well, that treated you differently. He didnât even attempt to conceal it, no. He made it obvious.
He would literally stop laughing when you entered the room.
He would stop talking to his members when he caught sight of you.
Hell, you thought that if could stop breathing just to not share the air you breathe, he would.
Which was ironic to you considering that you were here for him.
And which was a shame, really. You did love his smile.
âHyung?â Jimin called him for the third time since you left.
âYes, Jimin. Your take is perfect.â
The following week was the groupâs video shooting for their music video. It had been a hectic week for everyone, including you. You were tired, yet seeing the art made by them come to life was everything. You felt like you were part of a masterpiece, despite you working from behind the scenes. Everything was going well, except for the current part of the MV.
If looks could kill, youâd be buried six feet underground now. Hobi was getting distracted with the way you were laughing with another staff. A male staff. How dare you laughed with another man, he thought. You should be serious. You were working. What was more important to you than your job, he thought. He was so occupied at throwing daggers with his eyes- daggers that you didnât notice, that he missed his cue for the fifth time. The director yelled cut, gesturing for them to go back to their original position.
Taehyung sighed before whining, âHyung, what is the problem?â
He didnât say a thing for a moment that younger man thought he wouldnât reply. Taehyung was about to go back to his original position when he finally said something.
âI need a coffee. An iced coffee,â Hobi suddenly declared, his eyes still trained at you.
âDo you want my coffee, hyung? I barely took a sip from it!â Jungkook quipped up, on his way to grab his iced coffee when Hobi shook his head.
âNo, I want a fresh iced coffee,â he replied in a fake sadness that Namjoon definitely didnât buy. Suga rolled his eyes. The two of them saw Hobiâs eyes trained on you. They knew what he was doing. They werenât born yesterday. âIn fact, Y/N, why donât you buy me coffee?â He called out to you, deliberately increasing his voice to get yours and the whole staffâs attention.
You blinked owlishly once you realized that he called for you for the first time in months. You felt everyoneâs eyes on you, waiting for you to move. Hoseok sauntered to you, his smile seemed permanent on his face yet his eyes looked cold as he glanced at the man you were talking.
âYou know that coffee shop where we bought our coffee last week?â He asked quietly, his tone pleasant. You couldnât help but nod- so unaccustomed to his proximity. âCan you please buy me an iced vanilla latte?â
You cleared your throat, âS-sure,â you said before turning to look behind him, specifically to the six other members who were looking at the two of you with varying reactions: Jimin seemed like he was generally having a good time, V looked like he was still confused, JK was pouting that his hyung didnât like his coffee, while RM looked like he was done with everything, Jin was whispering at Suga, and lastly, Suga especially looked sleepy. âDoes anyone else want coffee?â
Suga immediately raised his hand, and at the same time, J-hope who never took his eyes off of you lost his smile. âNobody else wants coffee, right? Sheâs just going to buy for me,â he announced, turning to look at them with smile on his face, pointedly ignoring Sugaâs raised hand.
âGo along now. Iâm craving for something sweet,â he murmured with a smirk before turning to walk back to his position.
âBut itâs a one-hour drive,â you realized to yourself, already calculating that it would take you more than two hours to travel back and forth, and waiting for the order. You just prayed that there werenât a lot of people at this hour.
âI guess you have to run along now, Y/N,â Hobi said cheerily, raising his fist as if to gesture âfightingâ to you.
You were running as fast as you could without spilling the coffee you were holding. It was more than two hours, and you were stressing. Your co-worker a few minutes ago messaged you that they were almost done with the shoot. You feared that you were already too late. To your defense, he did send you to buy him a coffee knowing full well that it was a full hour away without the traffic. Your temper was shooting up. You were not the most patient person in the world to begin with. He was not like said this in the beginning. In fact, he was normal with you. He smiled, he laughed, he said thank you every time you did something for him- and then one day he just stopped. You thought you had offended him somehow. It was a good thing that you were only a temporary here. In all honesty, all you just wanted was to repay him for the kindness he showed you when you were at your lowest, when you thought that life and everything good in it left you.
So what happened to him?
Where did it all go wrong?
You entered the studio, seeing only few of the staff remained to pack up. The rest were security patrolling the building before calling it a day. They told you that the members left, but that J-hope might still be in the building. With a sigh that you prayed could provide you the patience you didnât possess, you went up to his room. But when you arrived, he wasnât there, and only his assistant was left. And that was how you knew your prayers werenât answered. You offered her a tired smile before turning around.
âOh, youâre here! Heâs been waiting for you,â his assistant said in relief, instructing you to go to the parking lot.
Which you complied.
You hated how he had you running like a dog. You were starting to think if he was really that man who showed you kindness when you needed it the most a few years ago. Did you play that scene too many times that you started to place more meaning to it? Did you hold on to that memory for far too long that you had started to romanticize that moment?
Still, nevertheless, he did save you that day.
You only wished to pay his kindness back.
Finally, you saw him leaning against his car, his attention focused on his fancy cellphone. He looked serious, his brows pinched together. J-hope was now barefaced, and he was now only wearing a white button down shirt and pants which somehow made him more attractive and manly. Regardless, your patience was running thin and no amount of his attractiveness could alleviate what you were feeling.
You meant, who would order an iced coffee knowing full well that by the time it arrived, all the ice would have long melted by then?! He knew it was a two-hour travel, and yet he still insisted. Your steps were quick, and quite frankly sounding provoked that he looked up before you could even call his attention. You handed him the iced coffee carelessly, the content slushing around and not even the lid could saved him from the escaped droplets. He looked down at his drenched hand, not knowing why it didnât irritate him. He shook his head with amusement in his eyes before turning his attention to you.
âHowâs the travel? I hope it wasnât too much of a hassle,â he lamented in a fake sympathy. He didnât know why he enjoyed tormenting you, why he wanted all your attention on him. He couldnât pinpoint the reason why, and he was too naive to realize it himself.
You knew he was testing you, waiting for you to take the bait. But you wouldnât give him the satisfaction, no. You smiled at him, about to answer him when he lifted his hand that was now dripping from a little coffee and licked it, savoring in the rich taste of the coffee. All while looking at you.
It was tooâŚsexy(?!) for you that you choke on nothing. You felt your cheeks heated up from that that you forgot what you were going to say for a moment.
âY/N?â
âW-what?â
âWould you drive me home?â
See, why did you say yes? You were just too weak when he was paying attention to you, or when he said please. Or when he looked at you with his soulful eyes that you thought held a little too much emotions, both sadness and euphoria.
Why then did he only let people see his happiness, but never his desolation? Never his regret? Never his weariness?
You watched him warily as you maneuvered out of the basement parking lot. He was sitting beside you, leaning his head on the head rest. He had his eyes shut closed that you could observed him freely. He looked tired, evidenced by his slumbering form.
You thought that it must have been so exhausting to project a happy, lively image every single day.
And so, you told yourself youâd give him the time to sleep by driving as peacefully as you could- which was not easy because you werenât a good driver in the first place. You thought that it was a miracle you were able to pass your driving test when the examiner looked like he was holding on for dear life. But you knew the road signages, knew the laws, knew the doâs and dontâs, and so by miracle, you were able to pass your exam.
Driving on the main road was no easy feat. You were intimidated by the fast cars, and because of that, you were driving even slower than usual that the less than one-hour drive to his house turned to an almost two-hour drive. The man sleeping beside you was not even aware of what was happening, lost in his own dreams. The movement of the car moved his head to the side, facing you. He was even more angelic when he wasnât busy glaring at you. He was even more ethereal when he wasnât giving you meaningless tasks. In the silence of the car, absent of the noise that his world brought, he shone more.
Sometimes you couldnât believe you were with him now, that you were breathing the same air he was breathing, that you could see him the whole day when he was just a mere memory of your darkest day- the day you buried your parents.
You were numb, so numb that you could barely feel your tears falling freely from your eyes. Your black, funeral dress was in contrast with the gentle picture that the sunset was quietly painting. You were staring at the ocean, the forgiving way the waves kissed the sand didnât bring you peace. You thought that nothing could bring you peace anymore, that from this day forward, all you would feel was the cold loneliness from losing the only family you had. You thought that you would ran out of tears now that a week passed since you lost your adoptive parents from a horrendous accident. But the tears never stopped. And your heart never ceased to break.
You didnât know how long you sat on the sand, you didnât know how many tears fell, or how you were the picture perfect of melancholy. But Jung Hoseok knew, that day he knew.
Your hair had long fell from its confines, now freely flowing with the wind when you turned to look behind you. There, you saw him. He was sitting on the sand just like you. He was resting his arms on his knees. The young man was looking at the sea. He looked so serene, yet his eyes were troubled.
âI thought youâd never stop crying,â he voiced out. He had been sitting there almost as long as you. He came to clear his thoughts, only to find a young woman crying on her own. It was a difficult time for him. He thought that his career was not going anywhere, that he was wasting his time, that no matter how hard he worked, their group wouldnât make it. He felt like his dream was a like a punch to the moon- impossible. He was torn between giving up and trying, yet this time as a soloist. To add salt to the wound, he watched as everyone received fan letters but him. Jung Hoseok had problems of his own.
So why then did he choose to stay?
He didnât know why, but he never had the heart to leave you alone. Something was telling him that he was supposed to be here, that he shouldnât leave you alone.
That you needed him.
You sniffed at the young man with a kind face behind you. He thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, regardless of the endless pit of sadness you were drowning in. He didnât smile at you. You didnât need a smile right now. He wordlessly stood up, walked near you, and placed in your hand a white handkerchief. âCry more if you want. Iâll wait until youâre done,â he stated. And you did. You cried so hard, you cried so much until no tears fell anymore. All the while, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the crashing waves. He was humming a song you werenât familiar with, but you found it soothing. You found him calming.
âYou must think Iâm a lunatic,â you whispered, his handkerchief drenched with your tears.
He shook his head, âItâs not crazy to cry. Itâs how you express the love that has nowhere else to go,â he said tonelessly, as if it was just the truth of life. And it was. âWhatâs crazy is that people stop themselves from feeling when we arenât made to not feel. If youâre sad, then cry. If youâre happy, then laugh. Itâs not crazy to cry. Itâs human to cry.â
He finally looked down at you. He didnât know why he cared so much when he had burdens of his own. But he wanted you to know, âYouâre not alone. I donât think you were put in this world to be alone.â
No one, not even your closest family friends knew what to say to the pitiful young orphan that was you. Their words seemed empty to you. Their hugs seemed meaningless to you. But this young man that you didnât even know stood by you as you cried. This man was able to comfort you more than anyone could. This man told you that you werenât alone. And you held on to that. That day was your saving grace.
It was almost a year ago, yet you didnât forget him. You couldnât. His handkerchief was still with you, a remembrance of the day you felt like the world turned its back on you. You were walking to your university, enjoying the calm breeze of the morning when you heard a song from the store you were passing.
That same melody.
That same unfamiliar song he was humming.
Without any thought, you entered the store and saw that the owner was watching a performance by an unknown group. And there he was.
That day, you learned his name.
That same day, you wrote his first fan letter.
J-hope opened his eyes. For the first time in months, he felt rested. It was dark outside, he noted. He was still in the car. He turned to look at you, and there you were smiling so gently at him.
âSlept well, sleepy head?â
The car was parked in front of his house for almost an hour. You didnât have the heart to wake him up, and so you stayed with him. He deserved the rest after all the hard work he was putting to their craft. Without any makeup on, he looked just like the young man you met on that day. He looked younger without the stress that was piling up on him.
âWhy didnât you wake me up?â He asked, his voice still laced with sleep. âAnd why didnât you park the car inside the house?â
âWell, I can definitely park your car. But I canât assure you that I wonât scratch your car,â you confessed. You sucked at parking, as pitiful as that sounded. He blinked at you before laughing- a real one this time. He always laughed but it wasnât always out of happiness that you hated hearing his fake laughters, loathed seeing his fake smiles.
âCute,â he whispered. He wasnât able to stop himself.
âWhat?â
âI said you looked like a shoe,â he scoffed before getting out of his car. He rounded the car, and opened the door for you.
âThat doesnât even make any sense!â You pointed out, looking at him indignantly. You looked like a shoe? What did that even mean?!
J-hope smirked, before leaning down and pressing the seatbelt to release you. His face was so near you that you could clearly see his eyes. You loved the color of his eyes, the quintessential blend of brown. You loved his face. You loved how you thought he had the perfect bone structure, how straight he nose was, the perfect size for his face. You loved how he was the perfect embodiment of everything good in this world.
Wait, what? Loved? You meant, you liked his eyes and his face!
He was so near that you could feel his heat. He was not satisfied that he even leaned closer, his arm resting beside your hips while the other was propped beside your head. He was so near that you could smell his manly scent. He looked at your eyes, before whispering, âGet out.â
See, he didnât even thank you that day.
The end of all the shootings was marked by a celebration party. All the staff, together with the members, were having fun dancing, eating, and drinking in a hotel solely rented by the company. You were exhausted beyond measure, and not just because of work. Specifically, it was because of J-hope that had you running all around the town as if you were his own personal assistant. Not only that but his mood swings drained you. Who knew this person was so moody, you thought.
âYouâre a fashion design graduate?â Your male co-staff asked you in disbelief. You chuckled before you took a sip of your drink. âThen why are you working as a staff here?â
You explained to him that you were waiting for the result of your application to work for a brand you believed and supported abroad. You did interviews virtually and now you were eagerly waiting for the response. You couldnât wait to finally live your dream, the one you had the strength to reach because you promised yourself that day to never give up.
You turned to look beside you and you almost jumped when you saw Yoongi silently drinking his choice of alcohol. How could he move so silently? And how long had he been sitting there?
âDo you want anything else, Yoongi? Iâll get it for you,â you offered politely to one of the members, smiling at him when he shifted his eyes to you.
âSo youâre leaving?â He asked instead of answering your inquiries. It was out of nowhere that it took you a moment to realize he heard your plans.
âOh, u-uhm. Yes, thatâs my life planâ
âHmm,â he thought of the headache that was about to come, seeing as from across the room, Hoseok was already throwing daggers at him with his eyes. âWhat did Hoseok say about that?â
You blinked owlishly in confusion, wondering why he brought up what he thought of your decision. âI didnât tell him. But the company knows Iâm only temporary here,â you trailed off your explanation, seeing the stoic Suga looked stressed. âNo worries, though! Iâll make sure to finish all my commitments before I leave,â you hurriedly assured him, mistaking his silence for his apprehension on work. After all, he was known for being a workaholic.
Suga was certain it was not smart to hide this from Hoseok.
Another hour passed and you werenât able to keep track of your alcohol intake. Everyone was loose, and the staff you grew closed to kept on drinking more and more. It was bad, you drank more than you should evidenced by your slurred words and your barely focused eyes.
âNoona, youâre drunk,â he noted as Jungkook kneeled in front of you, checking your current state with his worried, doe eyes. In your eyes, there were two Jungkook- two muscular Jungkook that looked at you with concern. âCome on. Iâll help you,â he said worriedly, placing your arm around his neck as he guided you to stand up. He, with Namjoon, had been helping the drunk staff get to their rooms, seeing as they were one of the few sober people here. He was about to lift you up when Hoseok who had been going back and forth about helping you showed up. He told himself he didnât care, that you were merely a nuisance to him and that your presence disturbed his composure. On the other hand, something about another man touching you just didnât seem right to him.
He guessed the possessive side of him won that night.
âJungkookie,â he called the youngest member, clapping his muscular shoulder once. âIâll take care of her. You go help Namjoon.â
Jungkook faltered once, looking at his hyung with hesitancy in his eyes. Didnât he hate you? Wasnât it just last week that Hobi saw you laughing at Vâs joke? And that he said that if you had time to joke around and laugh with other people, then youâd have time to take his car for maintenance. That took you two hours. Plus the drive back to the company. Plus he made you drive him to his home.
And then he made you cook him dinner.
âAre you sure, hyung?â It didnât escape Hobiâs eyes that the maknae still did not let you go. âI can bring her up real quick and then help Namjoon hyung-â
âJungkook. Go help Namjoon,â Suga ordered quietly, his stance relaxed that he didnât have any choice but to place you gently back on the sofa. See, how could he slither up to anywhere without making a sound? He was like a cat, Jungkook swore in amazement.
âYou know what youâre doing, right, Hoseok?â Suga clarified with Hobi, his voice bored as if he didnât care either way. But he did. The whole members were at lost with how Hobi was treating you. It was unlike him. He was always the first to smile at anyone, always the first to offer a helping hand, the first to make anyone feel welcome.
So what made you an outlier?
âBecause if you donât, I suggest you start thinking of the reason why youâre like this. And stop playing with her.â
J-hope carried you in his arms, your dizzy head leaning on his chest. This close and you could inhale his musky, manly scent. He did smell good despite the smell of alcohol lingering on his shirt. His body was warm- the kind that was pleasant and felt like home.
Carefully, he laid you on the bed, supporting your head until it hit the pillow. With softness you didnât know he possessed for you, he placed a blanket on your body after he made sure you drank enough water.
He knew he should leave, he knew he did the decent thing. Why then did he not want to leave you when you were this vulnerable? Why then did he want to stay?
Why then did he falter when all he wanted to do was brush the hair off of your face?
And why was he fighting against himself?
His hand hovered just above your skin, gently tracing the outline of your cheeks, of your nose, of the way your lips protruded.
The way your eyelashes softly fluttered against your cheeks was endearing. The way your brows furrowed in your sleep unknowingly made him smile. You were so ethereal in his eyes, that he made up his mind. With extreme gentleness, he brushed you hair off of your face. This close and he could see the marks on your skin, proving further how you were made so uniquely, how marvelously you were created. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, no longer wondering how soft your skin was because this time, he knew. Perhaps, he was not in control as he initially thought because he found himself touching your lips with his thumb. And at that time, he could have swore he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, to know what you tasted.
He looked so lost, his eyes trained on your lips that he didnât notice you looking at him. And when he met your eyes, you didnât say anything. You merely waited, waited so sweetly, anticipating what his decision would be. Yet, for the life of you, you wished you wouldnât be alone.
J-hope would have stepped back if not for your hand holding on to his. âI donât want to be alone,â you confessed, seeing the same loneliness that haunted you each night in his eyes. âCanât you stay?â You whispered.
You didnât have to ask twice.
He was only meant to stay until you fell back asleep. He only meant to sit beside you, not lie down on the bed facing your slumbering form. He only meant to be here temporarily. He only meant to keep his distance- so why then did you have your hand buried in his chest? Why then did he hold it close to him? Because now, no one could tear him away from you. Now, he was looking at you with as if the truth itself was glaring at him, willing him to finally see what he was desperately misunderstanding.
He sighed with the realization that his hatred for you was a misunderstood emotion, something that he didnât know he could experienced in this life. The line between love and hate was definitely thin. He didnât know when he crossed it, he just knew he couldnât go back.
âWhy are you still so good to me?â He asked despite knowing you wouldnât answer. How could you take all the shit he had been throwing at you? How could you continuously asked him everyday if he was okay, if he needed anything? How could you still smile at him when he had been anything but good to you?
He thought you wouldnât answer, but you did.
And in your haze, you whispered, âBecause you saved me.â
The six members were all gathered in their communal room. They were all looking at each other, waiting for anyone to start. It was apparent to them that J-hope didnât come home last night. In fact, Jungkook happened to pass by the hallway at six in the morning, looking for food because he was starving when the door to your hotel room opened. And there he came face to face with the disheveled, clothes-wrinkled, Hoseok.
âDo you thinkâŚhe killed her?â He voiced out his concern, eyes wide as he looked at his hyungs.
Jimin chuckled at the youngest memberâs innocence. He was the first one to notice how different his hyung was when it came to you. He was just glad that finally after tirelessly looking at the two of you interacted, his hyung finally made a move.
âHe likes her,â RM finally spoke up, his eyes trained on the book he was reading.
âReally?â Taehyung asked in disbelief. How could he not see it?
âTae, youâre so dense,â Jin bellowed, throwing V the pillow he was holding. âDonât you have eyes?â
âShit, heâs here!â Jimin alerted them when he saw his hyung opening the door. âQuick act natural!â
The freshly showered main dancer entered the room. He looked like he had rested well. Everyone avoided eye contact with him. It was apparent to him that Jungkook blabbered what he saw this morning. With a sigh, he looked at the culprit who had his head buried on a book.
âJungkook, howâs that book?â
âItâs very educational, hyung!â
âInteresting,â he said in a deadpanned voice before walking to him, grabbing the book, and flipping it upside down. âVery interesting. I didnât know you could read that way.â
He turned to look at Suga who had his eyes closed, his head bent in an unnatural manner that he was certain it was not comfortable.
âSuga hyung, stop pretending to sleep. There is no way anyone can sleep in that position.â
Yoongi cleared his throat before sitting up straight as if he wasnât called on his lie. âHow was your night?â
âIt wasâŚgood,â he replied with a genuine smile on his face that Suga couldnât help but mirror it on his own. Hoseok deserved to be happy, that was what they all thought.
He hadnât slept that well in a long time, but he noticed that whenever he was with you he felt like he could rest. Like he could close his eyes and it would be okay because you were there. Like he could shed the happy persona he was wearing and just be himself. Like he could feel emotions other than happiness he was showing to the world.
The problem now was that he spent all his time antagonizing you that he was sure you wouldnât give him the time of the day. To which, Taehyung articulated that maybe, he should try being kind to you.
So yes, he did try doing that. But now, you looked at him suspiciously. Just the other day, he passed you a bottle of water because he thought you looked a little parched. You passed it back to him with the lid opened, much to his shocked. Did you think he was asking you to open it for him?!
The next time, he opened the bottle himself and passed it to you, this time you thought he wanted a colder one so you went to fetch him that. His jaw literally dropped when you passed him the bottle. He even bought you flowers, certain that you would loved it. In fact, you loved it so much you put it in a vase only for J-hope to find it displayed in his office. Jin laughed himself to the floor when he saw it.
You were preoccupied with the instruction being disseminated, your eyes focused on the schedule given that you didnât notice your shoelace was untied. Without much thought, Jung Hoseok leaned down on his knee, his mind focused on the task. You almost didnât notice that the noise suddenly stopped, and that all eyes were on you. Slowly, you looked down to find his head bent down as he tied your shoelace. His brows were furrowed, engrossed in his task. He looked up suddenly, meeting your eyes. You felt your cheeks heating up from his gesture. He smirked and he thought that you would finally get it.
You didnât. To which RM advised that he made it obvious this time, to make you actually noticed him, to leave you no choice but to notice him.
The following week was the groupâs schedule to film somewhere remote for their segment. It was a three-day trip. You looked around the basement parking, wondering where your co-staff were. Werenât you all supposed to drive there together? You were about to call them on your phone when you saw J-hope leaning against his car, his eyes trained on you.
âAbout time you show up. Letâs go,â he sighed. You guessed you were going to have to drive him again. And here you thought that youâd get to catch up on your sleep. You opened the door when Hoseok slammed it shut again, his manly hand beside your head as it rested on the door. Here he was again, standing so near you that you had no choice but to step back. But this time, you couldnât. You were between him and the car.
âWhat are you doing?â
âIâmâŚgoing to drive?â You answered unsurely, breath hitching as he leaned in even further. If you thought he was handsome when he was smiling, the serious Hoseok did things to your heart.
âIâm driving. Thatâs why I waited for you.â
âYeah, but why? Donât I always drive you?â
Why was it hard flirting with you, he thought.
You watched him from the corner of your eye as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the stick gear. He had coffee prepared for you in his car, even a bottle of water for the travel. He was being so uncharacteristically kind and considerate to you that you were becoming suspicious now.
âYour hair looks so beautiful,â he complimented all of a sudden that you almost sputtered out the water you had been drinking. What did he mean? You didnât even wash your hair today. Was he insulting you? Was he complimenting you? At this point, did anyone know what was going on?
âDid I do something wrong?â
âWhat?â
âI donât know. You seem different now. If I did something wrong, Iâm sorry.â
He looked at you with confusion in his face, holding your eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. âJust because I said your hair is beautiful?â
When you only blinked at him, lost for words when he looked puzzled himself before a shadow of understanding passed through his expressive face. âYou donât remember that night, do you?â
âWhat night?â
And there it was. He thought that he already made progress with you. And it turned out that you remember none of it.
The members watched as you and J-hope arrived with anticipation in their faces, only for Hoseok to shake his head. He spent the whole three days literally glued to your side. He brought you food, he opened water bottles for you, he sat beside you wherever you were, even going as far as glaring at any man who had the audacity to sit beside you. Most of all, he made you laughed. He listened to whatever you had to say with laser focus, as if you were the most interesting person in the world. And one night, when you all had too much to drink, he sat beside you and held your hand in his in the darkness of the night.
You could admit that as much as you didnât want to, being this close to him was affecting you. Which was bad. Because you knew you couldnât and shouldnât fall for him, that you shouldnât get attached because this would end badly for you. You were leaving. And you were just here to make his life a little bit easier as a repayment to what he unknowingly did for you. And so, you started steering clear of his path for his sake, but also for the sake of your heart. Whenever you saw him, youâd suddenly have an errand to do. Whenever he was about to go to you, youâd suddenly join a group of people so he wouldnât come. You even went as far as jumping at the last car, which happened to be Sugaâs, just so you wouldnât be with Hoseok. Suga looked at you weirdly before looking at the window, and then sighing. You were only glad that he drove without a word.
âDonât you like him?â He asked in a bored tone after driving for half an hour. âAnd donât lie to me.â
You blushed as you looked anywhere but him. Truth, you found out, was harder to deny once it was verbalized, once it was said. You could hardly deny the truth when you kept it in yourself, what would happen to you then if you say it?
âCan I trust you?â You asked in a small voice. You werenât close to him, but you knew he was quiet, that he was like a Cheshire cat, merely sitting there quietly and observing, always observing. From the few interactions you had with him, you knew he only had his membersâ best interest in heart. He was asking not because he was curious, no. He was asking because he cared for Hoseok.
âYou can,â he replied in that deep voice of his. âOr you canât. Itâs up to you.â
You smiled at his answer, this was really who Suga was. And so, you decided to tell the truth.
âI do⌠but this is not going anywhere. What I feel for him is irrelevant,â you began, your lips twitching as you played with your fingers nervously. âHe is a good man.â
Yoongi nodded as he silently drove, lost in his own thoughts. His mind must have been interesting, it must have been too complexed that you wondered how he would act when he fell. You didnât know if you admire or pity the woman who would have the bravery to fall for him.
âThatâs not for you to decide, Y/N. At least tell him.â
You wouldnât.
You walked quietly after you made sure that he was not around. It had been a week of successfully avoiding Hoseok and you could see that he was becoming displeased with your actions. It was apparent to him that you were avoiding him, much to his vexation. But this ended now.
You were on your way to a meeting, in your hand was your planner. This was your last month, your contract was almost through. Your thoughts were immersed with things you needed to do that you didnât notice that it was peculiar you were the first one in the small conference room. You waited for the other attendees of the meeting, lost in your own world as you wrote on your planner. The door opened and closed, and you lifted your head with a smile on your face ready to greet whoever that was when you saw him. He entered the room with a blank face, never turning his back on you as he pressed the lock. He walked around the table and sat on it, perching his lap on the edge as he faced you. His eyes looked tired. It took him a moment before he broke the silence.
âYouâre avoiding me,â he stated as though he didnât need your answer.
âIâm not-â you started denying when he tilted his head to the side, his expression even going more serious. You recognized this face, the expression he used when he was coaching on the dance routines. You looked at your lap, anywhere just to avoid his intense gaze. Yet, you could not escape him. You were too hyperaware of his presence, of his larger than life presence that made you want to say yes to whatever he wanted. His thigh was almost touching your hand that was on the table.
âWhy are you avoiding me, angel?â He asked gently, terrified that youâd up and leave like the last few days. You couldnât even deny when he already saw right through your bullshit. You were afraid to look into his eyes because then he would see, he would know what you felt. When you still didnât lift your eyes to him, he held your hand, bringing it to his lap. To be honest, he was scared. He hated the feeling of not seeing you, of not talking to you, of not having you near him. âTell me, hmm? Tell me and Iâll fix whatever it is.â
Your lips quivered. It had been too log since anyone told you theyâd fix it for you, that theyâd take care of it for you. You had been alone for far too long that hearing that hurt you. What you felt for him terrified you. For so long you looked at him as though he was your savior, and now you were looking at him like he could be something more when you knew you were setting yourself for another heartache- one that you wouldnât survive. Hoseok lifted your hand to his lips, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. âTell me.â
âI-I think,â you began before trailing off. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes trained on his chest. You still couldnât look at him, still could not f the life of you look at him as you told him the truth.
âYou think what, angel?â He repeated gently, urging you to continue.
âI thinkâŚIâm falling in love with you,â you finally said as you shut your eyes closed, waiting for his disgust.
Yet it never came.
He was silent, so silent that it terrified you. You were pulling your hand away from his when he tightened his hold on you. It left you no choice but to look up at himâŚonly to find him with a genuine smile on his face.
âGood,â he whispered, his face losing the tense look it had moments ago. Now, J-hope was happy, utterly happy. And it showed. âBecause I already fell.â
He tilted your chin further, and slowly, so slowly he leaned in. His jaw was set hard with concentration, his eyes trained on you. And then you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, a kind of kiss reserved for first kisses, the one where one wanted to savor the moment. He kissed you once, twice- and then he leaned back, opened his eyes and looked at you as if asking you if that was okay. And when you nodded, J-hope decided he wanted more. The kiss began to get more heated. Suddenly, he lifted you from your seat and placed you on top of the table. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, so close that you could feel the growing hardness of his member. You have been kissed before, but certainly not like this. Certainly not by someone as grand as him. Certainly not the kind of kiss where time felt like it stood still. You could feel his tongue inside you, keen on discovering every inch of you. It was too much, it was too many emotions that you didnât know how to handle them. You felt his other hand possessively around the back of your neck. You thought it was forever before he stopped kissing you. He leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard as he leveled you with his intense gaze.
âYouâre mine now, right, angel?â He asked as he looked at you with his lust-filled eyes.
Were you his?
Could you be his?
It was as if you were awaken, as if the haze that surrounded you was now gone and in its place was the hard truth that you werenât supposed to be with him because you were leaving.
You shook your head, your hands pushing on his chest. âNo. Iâm sorry,â you whispered, tears brimming on your eyes âWe canât.â
In his weakened state and shocked, you were able to push him away. You ran to the door without looking back, and left him.
What happened, he thought in confusion. He was about to follow you when he noticed that you left your planner in your haste to escape. He was about to pick up the open planner when something piqued his curiosity.
Your handwriting seemed familiar to him. He tilted his head to the side, trying to remember why this seemed like a piece of a puzzle to him. He racked his brain, trying to remember something⌠And then he got it. He remembered this handwriting, the same handwriting that he had framed in his office- his first fan letter. He looked at it for hours back when he wanted to give up, and until now he looked at it with gratitude that someone believed in him when he wanted to give up.
It was you. He finally found you.
If this wasnât fate, then he didnât know what it was.
It almost buried the hurt he was feeling when you pushed him away. Almost. He was almost okay. But then he saw you marked the date of your last day in the company- and on the next page was the list of things you needed to accomplish because you leave the country. You were leaving the country. You were fucking leaving him.
You couldnât leave, no. Not when he finally found you. Not when he only felt this way with you. Not when this was fate itself. Not when he was irrevocable so in love with you, not when he couldnât even begin to imagine breathing without you. No. You cannot leave him. His mind was going overdrive, his heart beating too loud with the thought of losing you.
He needed to do something.
He needed to do it now,
With renewed strength, he marched out the door. His footsteps was hard and fast, looking for any trace of you that he almost ran straight to Namjoon. The leader took a look of his hyungâs state before carefully asking if he got everything under control. To which he replied that heâd only be stable and okay once he was sure that you were never going to leave him.
âRemember to do everything smartly, hyung,â RM advised him as a leader should. But as a friend, he told him where he last saw you. And as someone who also had to do underhanded methods just to get the girl, he stated, âDo what you must do, hyung. Lock her down to you, if you must.â
You almost jumped up when you heard hard, consecutive knocks on your door. It was alraedy closed to midnight, and you were weary. Your eyes were red from crying, something that you had not done in a long time. You were on the floor, surrounded by things you were packing since last week. You thought it was just your neighbor asking for something, and so you thought she would go away. You didnât have the energy to deal with anyone today.
Yet, the knocks only became more frequent that left you no choice but to open the door- and there he was. Standing tall in front of you was the one you ran away from.
Jung Hoseok had his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed that you couldnât read him.
âCan we talk?â
And as an answer, you stepped back and let him passed you inside your apartment. You had barely locked the door when you found yourself against the wall, and his lips hovered above yours for a moment, a moment for you to push him away. And when you didnât, he pressed against your lips so tenderly and yet so demanding. All thoughts about why this was not a good idea vanished. All of a sudden, all that mattered was this feeling. All that mattered was Jung Hoseok.
His tongue caressed yours, while his hand lifted your leg to him, brushing his hardened member on your core. Pressing so gently as though he was on a mission to seduce you that you were left with no choice but to entangle your fingers in his hair, brushing the strands that fell on his forehead. His other hand journeyed inside your shirt. The heat of your skin, the softness of your skin furthered drove him to madness. His palm was hot as he kneaded you through your bra, pinching your nipple with a pressure you never knew.
âIf you donât want this,â he breathed as he peppered kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see. âTell me now. Because if you donât, I canât stop myself anymore, angel..â
You felt his hand on your bare breast, your bra not standing a chance against the man in front of you. His thumb brushed over your nipple repeatedly, earning him a moan you could not stop.
âDo you want this, angel? Do you want me?â He whispered hotly, his eyes now trained on your eyes with seriousness and lust. And you could only nod.
You didnât know how, but he managed to carry you to your bed. If he noticed your belongings in boxes, he didnât say a thing. You would be moving, yes. But it wouldnât be abroad where it was fucking far from him. No. You would be moving in with him.
He moved fast; your clothes were gone while he was still fully clothed. He spread your legs unceremoniously, hooking them over his shoulders, and then his sinful tongue thrust inside of you. Hoseok never gave you the chance to keep up with his ministrations, you had no choice but to moan and fall apart. And even when you did, by heavens he did not stop. His hold on your thighs were tight, fingers digging on your skin as your thighs shook with endless pleasure he was giving you.
You were begging at this point, but you didnât know if it was for him to stop or to go on. The third time you came, he crawled to you, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He showered you with praises about how good you were to him, how heavenly you tastedâŚhow you were his. This time, he did not ask. He knew you were his.
You didnât know when you passed out. Was it the second time he made you come with his cock? Was it because of the dizzying pleasure he managed to pull out of you? Was it because of his sweet, little promises about possessing you completely? Was it his promises that heâd take care of everything?
You didnât know.
Hoseok watched you as you slept beside him, his body momentarily sated as he looked at his angel. He admired the marks on your neck, admired the bruises on your thighs. He smiled to himself as he brushed your hair away from your face. How could you think of leaving him when it was this good, he thought.
But never mind that.
You wouldnât leave. His phone dinged from an email, and he smirked evilly as he read that the person he recommended for the job you had previously accepted was successful. The fashion company replaced you willingly with Hoseokâs promise that he would model one of their collections. You would be sad, though. But that was fine. He did this for you. He did this so the two of you would grow even closer. You shouldnât worry, though. Hoseok thought of everything. A month from now, you would start your work with a fashion company. But this time, it as in Korea where he could see you, where he could keep you.
See, anyone was replaceable. But to him, you werenât. You were the only one.
pristine white locks fell into his face as red eyes peered back at you, with the black headboard behind him he almost look like a painting. dante stared at you amused. it was annoying how he was the one tied up and it felt like he had the upper hand.
"so," dante tilted his head playfully, "you are aware that i can break out of these right?" he pulled at the cuffs hanging above his head experimentally.
you sighed, "yes, i am aware of your freakish strength, thanks for asking. but you'll be obedient for me, won't you?"
"well when you sweet talk me like that, how can i say no?"
he was naked sitting on the bed legs crossed, all you did was restrain him and he was already at half-mast.
from your place infront of him, your eyes wandered over his body contemplating your next move.
"want a picture?" dante mused.
you smirked, "trust, i'll be taking alot of those."
"yeah when im old and gray because ive sat here and i think the grandparents next door are having more action than me."
"oh yeah?"
---
"ngh! i just came..! so s-stop pounding!" ribbons of cum splattered on his already coated chest yet you didn't stop, the thought didn't even cross your mind. you were no where near done with him and that smart mouth.
how many rounds was it now? dante lost track after the first five.
"you know, your dicks been staying soft while i fuck you. maybe i've been using your ass so much your body knows you don't need your dick anymore."
"f-fuck you," dante spat brokenly as you continued pistoning into him like he was a toy. his cock laid limp on his abs, weakly spurting in a pool of cum. his body shook with the after shocks of his orgasm a few moments ago.
the headboard creaked and banged against the wall in rhythm with your thrusts. "not getting enough play still? should i amp it up? you always loved a thrill, dante."
"n-no, please! dont turn it on [name], i swear you'll break me-!" his plea fell on deaf ears as you flipped the switch on the bullet vibrator taped on his shaft.
"ohh fuck!" he screamed, dantes arms flexed in his restrains, it took all his willpower to not pull through the restrains and turn off the intense stimulation.
"there we go," you smirked. "see, when i dig into your pussy the cum just keeps flying out."
"'m close! gonna cum again!" you were surprised dante still had cum left in him.
"oh wait before you do i almost forgot!" you stopped your assault on him for just a moment to lean over to the bedside desk and grab your polaroid camera.
you grabbed him by his hair like he was an animal you conquered and he looked positively debauched to say the least.
"smile!"
the camera flashed in time for dantes first dry orgasm to be on record.
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"[name]..." anakin whined, voice horse and rough from all his cries. shaky hands reached up to cup the sides of your face.
"haa... haa.. pl-please..!" his breath heaved. what was he begging for, more? less? he didn't even know himself, 'please' was the only word he could coherently say due to your relentless punishment.
you couldn't help the wicked smile that broke out across your face. force, how you longed for this moment, to be the one to bring the chosen one to his knees. maybe the puzzle that was anakin skywalker wasn't so hard to decipher, noone could deny their true nature and anakins was being a needy slut.
you slapped his hands away, relishing in the way tears filled his blue eyes making them seem all the more entrancing. defeated, he laid back down, propped up on his forearms. his hair fell into his face, watery azure eyes peered through brown locks. you swallowed the urge to pin him down and give anakin what you both wished for. did he know how provocative he looked?
"pl-please.. kiss-"
"ani, ani, ani," you tutted. "who are you to make demands in this situation, hm?" anakins side of the bond poked and prodded at your shields, even so, you wouldn't let up, it was crucial you had them up, you couldn't let anakin know the full extent of your desire. although, it was probably obvious, you didn't hide bother trying it on your face.
you shivered as you felt the pure need and desperation flood your senses. the force roared around you almost choking with animalistic desire. it didn't seem like anakin was doing consciously from how he was laying there on the bed, energy spent, hair even more wild than usual and cock angrily throbbing against the chiseled plane of his abs.
all the same, you found this is when he looked best, vulnerable under you, utterly and completely at your mercy. still, seeing anakin take down enemies with ease, hair and robes bellowing in the wind and his saber highlighting the features on his face was still a sight that made your jaw drop every time.
but, you knew anakins strength, not only was he gifted in the force at imaginable levels but his sheer strength. the amount of times he's bested you at djem so makes you wince just thinking about it. he could easily over power you if he wanted, take that sweet release and end this.
except, you both knew the thought never crossed his mind. it didn't matter how long you'd continue this, he'd still lay there, complacent and eager to please you.
but this wasn't just heartless behavior, no, you were conducting an experiment of sorts... could anakin cum just from having his chest toyed with like a girl? if he could, you'd fuck him, give him what he's so obediently yearned for. if not... well, the night is young.