#(he sucks at expressing himself is what I mean but he means well in his late teen years)

[cinnamqnx]

heartbreak summer ꨄ︎

pairing. sae itoshi x f!reader

summary. after your friend finds out her recent ex has been in the news tabloids with yet another girl, your idea of get back turns your night into an unfortunate series of events with the outcome landing you directly in front of re al’s star player, and you’re about to kiss him.

warnings: nsfw elements, smut, swearing, toxic relationships & behaviour (not too much from sae surprisingly), angst

11 | pillow talk ( smut 18+ )

you had finally gotten back to sae’s apartment once again, feeling slightly awkward inside from your last encounter here.

“you don’t have to stand so awkwardly, make yourself comfortable.”, sae says casually, walking into the kitchen.

you quickly followed him, “well last time i was here we had a little problem.”

he turned around to face you after getting out a protein shake from his fridge, “didn’t we fix that?”

you stayed silent, “…or are you still upset?”

“i’m not upset, i just feel like there was a bit of awkward tension between us today.”

“i felt it too. it’s probably because we was with other people right after we spoke about it.”, you lean on his kitchen counter, soaking in the view of him.

there’s a small amount of silence before he speaks again. “do you want to stay?”, he asks, shaking his drink.

“i do, i think we should talk too. it’s not the same as over text.”, you nod.

“yeah, i actually didn’t really use my phone before you.”, he sets his drink down, “i feel like you have me doing a lot of talking.”

“is that a bad thing?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know, i just don’t really do all this, so it’s new for me.”

you make an amused face, “you don’t talk?”

“nah, i just mean in relationships. i’ve not really had girls pull me up on things i’ve done.”, he paused after realising what he just said, “sorry, that sounded really dickish.”

“it’s okay. at least you’re improving, a few days you wouldn’t have even realised.”, you joke, a small smile on your face.

“your smile is really pretty.”

you smile while rolling you eyes, “you’re a sweet talker.”

“can’t i just admire you?”, he tilts his head, an innocent but affectionate glint in his eye.

you smile at him, the same glint in yours.

12:22 am

you let out a shaky breath as sae began to kiss up your thighs, itching closer and closer to your centre, “you okay, beautiful?”

you nod, “mhm.”

he uses his arms to push himself up, planting a soft kiss on your lips, “you sure you wanna let me do this?”, he asks in a soft tone, making your heart swell.

“yeah.”, you whisper.

“c’mon, give me more than that.”, he says, placing his large palm at the side of your face.

“i want this, sae.”

he kisses you again, this time with more passion, tracing his tongue against your bottom lip, softly biting at it, causing you to let out a heavy sigh.

he smirks, “you’re so cute.”

he then started kissing alongside your jaw, tilting your head to the side for him to have better access. licking, sucking and kissing, you gasp, moving your head away slightly.

“you’ll leave marks.”, you say, his eyes staring into yours.

“hm? good, other men will know to stay away.”, he says before moving back onto your neck, just to move back to your lips.

you let out a breathy laugh at his possessive response, “i’ve not given you a reason to worry.”, you joke.

“i know. and you won’t, right?”, he murmurs, a vulnerable tone which has you surprised.

“i won’t. promise.”, he simply smiles gently, going back to kissing your neck, collarbone and shoulder, leaving no place unmarked.

he pulls away, looking up at your hazed expression, smirking before moving back down, placing small, gentle kisses on your abdomen.

“am i okay to take this off?”, he asks, his hands lingering at the waist band of your skirt.

“mhm.”, you nod, lifting your head up to look at him before dropping it back down.

he swiftly pulls your skirt off, throwing it to the side of his bed, teasingly pulling on your underwear before placing soft kisses on your upper thighs, moving to your abdomen.

“quit the teasing.”, you breath out.

he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips, “can’t i just appreciate you?”

you huff quietly, making him smile against your stomach, placing his last kiss, rubbing up your thighs and pulling away, getting a good look at you sprawled out on his bed in a tiny crop top and your underwear.

“be good for me.”, he says, his hands rubbing small circles on your hips, “do you want me to take your top off?”

you hesitate for a moment, that being enough for sae to bend down and give you a reassuring kiss on your lips, moving back down, “i’m gonna pull these off, okay?”, his hands on the waist band of your underwear, moving his fingers under the sides, ready to take them off.

you breath out, your stomach knotting with anticipation, “okay.”

he swiftly pulls off your underwear, checking your face for any discomfort, the cold breeze hitting you making you gasp quietly.

“you’re already so wet..”, he mumbles, moving down to place gentle kisses on your pussy, making you nibble softly on your bottom lip.

he hooks your thighs over his arms as he gets comfortable in his position, placing teasing kisses on your clit as he uses his tongue to tease your entrance.

you bite your bottom lip harder, your head leaning back even further.

“don’t hold it back.”, he looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, “i wanna hear you.”

“it’s embarrassing.”, you whine, but came out more like a quiet moan.

“stop being silly, let me hear how beautiful you are.”, he says, leaning up and kissing you, making you taste yourself.

you nod slowly, looking back at him as he pulls away, “good girl.”

he returns to his original position, but using his now free hand to slowly rub on your clit while his tongue slowly licked along your entrance, eliciting a needy whine from you.

“there you go.”, he says as you let out the noises he’s been dying to hear.

he picks up his pace once he feels he’s edged you on enough, the slow circles on your clit moving faster and faster while eating your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth.

“oh, fuck”, you mutter, your hands moving to his hair, tugging on it as you throw your head back, his quiet moan vibrating on your clit.

he unravels his other arm from your thigh, using his thumb to gently circle your entrance, letting you know what he was planning to do, the new sensation drawing out a small gasp from you.

he gives your clit a teasing kiss before focusing his attention onto his fingers, his middle sinking into you while curling upwards, hitting that spongey spot that’s been dying for attention immediately.

you let out a gasp, arching your back and moaning put his name, “hm? what is it, beautiful?”, he asks, his tone irritatingly condescending.

“asshole.”, you mutter as he chuckled, staring up at you with adoration and lust.

he sinks in his ring finger right next to his middle, fitting snuggly as he picks up his pace while attaching his lips against your clit.

your legs shake with the overwhelming pleasure, your mouth letting out uneven breaths and shaky moans while your hands clutch the bedsheets beneath you.

he never stops his pace, the veins in his arms prominent, continuing to abuse your g-spot.

“wait- wait. fuck.”, you moan out, your brows furrowing as you feel the pleasure start to build up in your stomach, so desperately trying to hold on, “i’m gonna-”

you cut yourself off with your own moan, “yeah? cum for me, baby, fuck. let me see you.”

you arch your back as you feel the intense pleasure hit you like a bomb, throwing your head back while gripping onto sae’s forearm, your legs instinctively wrapping around his shoulder’s as they shake with vigor.

suddenly, you feel a splash of liquid ricochet off sae and onto your thighs, looking down to see you had squirted all over this man’s face and chest.

“my god, i don’t..”, you pause, breathlessly, “i’ve never done that before.”

“yeah?”, he he hums, to which you nod weakly, your head falling back from exhaustion.

he smiles at himself, so obviously smug.

sae had cleaned you up after being so adamant he didn’t want anything else from you tonight, satisfied with just making you feel good.

he was more attentive than you could’ve imagined, running you a warm shower while he got you both some snacks from his kitchen. then putting on a movie for you both while cuddling on his bed, the covers over you both as you get closer and closer to drifting off to sleep.

tracing small patterns on your skin, he asks, “you feeling okay?”

“mhm.”, you pause, “i feel really good.”, you smile at him.

“good, i’m glad. i felt like i owed this to you.”

you half lidded eyes open, confused, “what do you mean?”

“i just feel like ive been a bit.. dickish, with you recently.”, he shrugs.

you hum, leaning your head further into his bare chest, “so you felt like you had to please me sexually?”, you joke.

“i mean, i guess, i don’t really know how to explain it.”, he sounds unsure.

you raise your head to look at his face, “do you wanna try?”

“well, i’m not usually liked for my personality, just what im good at.”, he pauses, trying to word it for you, “sorry, i’m not good at this kinda stuff, talking about how i feel.”

you nod understandingly, “i don’t wanna rush you, but im here to listen.”

he doesn’t say anything, moving his hand to play with your hair, “you’re definitely way too good for me.”

“i don’t think that’s true.”

“it is. i don’t wanna fuck this up with you.”

“you won’t, as long as you’re honest with me.”

“i can definitely do that.”, he mumbles into your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on it.

“then there’s nothing you need to be worrying about.”, you reassure.

he hums at your words, “give me a kiss.”

and of course, you obliged.

navigation. heartbreak summer

next chapter. 12

author’s note. this is the first smut i’ve wrote in years LOL so be nice guys, sorry this took me longer than usual to get out it just has way more writing than usual and i’ve lowkey been having writers block w this story, i think after this chapter i’m going to focus on virtually yours as it’s only going to be 15 chapters long, but after that heartbreak summer will have my full attention 🫶🏻

taglist: @vaelils @shironagi @megumiivs @captainshindo @evry1luvssm @alatusorrow @pookalicious-hq @gigiiiiislife @tnt-kokoo @misosoupii @whisperofae @bontensbabygirl @s4-mmy @viviinpt @werfiedeii @dinnersyummy @sccubss @nuhahani @treeguzzler @pctterheadd @taefanclub @literallyushiwaka @yiiscorner @suksatoru @manjiroswifo @sugacor3 @kaz-0e @rinniebinniebay @heartcam @arwawawa2 @sharks-3 @saeishiro @ira-in-ink (open)

[knightshade26]

Pt.2

The moment the words slipped from Alastor's mouth, the room seemed to shrink. The air turned suffocating, thick with tension and the weight of his admission. You. He had confessed it without thinking, without wanting to. The words had come spilling out, a wave of truth he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t even avoid.

Lucifer’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of surprise before the familiar, cruel smirk slid back into place. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Alastor’s face, his posture slow and deliberate. Alastor felt the pressure of Lucifer’s stare like a physical thing, piercing and relentless.

“Well, well,” Lucifer purred, his voice far softer than before, “didn’t expect that,” he mused, almost to himself.

Alastor could feel the cold sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never felt more exposed in his entire existence. Lucifer’s laughter had always been something he could weather, a part of the game. But this—this was different. This was him standing naked before Lucifer, a truth so raw it made his skin burn.

“I… I didn’t mean to—” Alastor began, but his words caught in his throat. He clenched his jaw tightly, as if willing himself to stop speaking, but his lips betrayed him again. “I never wanted to say it. It’s just—” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not supposed to be… vulnerable. I never wanted to be vulnerable.”

The words tumbled out, each one another piece of the self-image he had worked so long to craft. The ever-smiling Radio Demon, the untouchable, the chaotic, the one who didn’t need anyone. The one who could not—and would not—admit weakness.

Lucifer’s expression softened, a strange tenderness flickering across his face that made Alastor want to tear his eyes away. Lucifer tilted his head, a slight, intrigued smile curling his lips.

“Vulnerable?” Lucifer repeated, his voice now a low hum. “And yet you’ve just told me the most vulnerable thing about you.” His smile deepened, almost fond. “You’ve never wanted to be loved? To feel like you matter, like you belong?”

“I—” Alastor’s breath hitched, his heart slamming in his chest as the words spilled out of him, unstoppable now. “I wanted to be loved, but I’m not… I’m not a fool, Lucifer. I’m not some silly creature who believes that anyone would ever…” His voice faltered as the truth, the agony of it, pressed down on him. “I could never be loved. I’m not capable of it.”

Lucifer took a step forward, his presence now a force Alastor couldn’t avoid. “Ah,” Lucifer said softly, “but you do long for it. And perhaps…” He stepped closer still, voice lowering to a whisper, “perhaps you’ve been denying it for far too long.”

Alastor’s mind raced, the flood of truth washing over him, making him feel naked in a way he had never been. He fought against it, tried to close his mouth, tried to hold the flood of words back—but they kept coming. His control was slipping. Lucifer’s presence was too strong, too all-encompassing.

“No,” Alastor hissed through clenched teeth, his voice raw. “I didn’t want to—don’t make me say it!” His hand shook as he placed it on the chair to steady himself, but the truth didn’t care. It came spilling from him, ripping through his carefully maintained defenses.

“I… I wanted to be loved by you,” he choked out, voice faltering. “But I never thought I’d be… worthy.” His chest tightened with the admission, the weight of it pressing so heavily that it made it hard to breathe. “I thought you’d never care, that I was just a game to you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s eyes softened, and for the first time, Alastor saw a flicker of something resembling understanding in them. But before he could process what that meant, he turned sharply and stood up from his seat, his body rigid with panic.

“No,” Alastor growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I am not doing this. I don’t—I’m not going to—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t. He had to get out. Now.

In a swift motion, Alastor turned toward the door, his footsteps loud against the floor. The panic clawed at his insides, his heart pounding in his ears, his mind screaming at him to flee from the vulnerability, from the truth Lucifer had pulled from him.

But then Lucifer spoke.

“Leaving so soon?” The words were gentle, but there was no mistaking the weight they carried. “I haven’t had my fun yet, Alastor.”

Alastor paused, his fingers gripping the doorframe with white knuckles, his whole body stiff with tension. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t lie, couldn’t even evade. He had admitted it all. He had shown Lucifer a side of him that was never meant to be seen.

He was too far gone now.

Before he could stop himself, he turned back toward Lucifer, and with a sharp intake of breath, he hissed, “You’re manipulating me. You think you know everything, but you don’t know anything about me, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s smirk was slow to return, but it was there. It was ever-present, and it sent a shiver of both fear and something darker down Alastor’s spine.

“But I do know this, Alastor,” Lucifer said softly, almost tenderly. “You’re not getting away that easily.”

Alastor froze, his back to the door now, his hands trembling. “I’m leaving.”

Lucifer took a step forward, his tone dropping low, his words a soft purr. “You can leave physically, but the truth is already here, Alastor. And you know what? It’s not just in me anymore. It’s in you, too.”

Alastor’s breath caught in his throat. The words weren’t cruel—they weren’t even teasing. There was something else. Something heavy, and deep, and dangerous.

Before he could answer, Lucifer spoke again, his voice a challenge, “Tell me, Alastor. Do you want to leave?”

Alastor’s heart skipped a beat. His breath hitched. He couldn’t escape the truth now. Not even from himself. He gritted his teeth and spat out, “No. I don’t.”

Lucifer’s smirk softened, just for a moment, and the silence that followed was thick with something Alastor wasn’t sure he could name.

But whatever it was, it was more than just a game now. And Alastor had already lost.

••••

There won't be part 3 really!!! really!! (Self please stop!!)

PROMPT WEEK! PROMPT WEEK!

(I'm opening up some free writing to practice😆 i feel like I'm so rusty lately)

Drop a prompt of RadioApple for me and I'll choose? Strictly no NSFW please! If you have any scenarios you'd like, DROP IT SIS! I'd write it for you😆

PROMPT WEEK Commenting will end Tomorrow at 12~

Lovelots guys!

[arrozconlecheeee]

Lately been really thinking about him a lot❄️

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ what are we?

...nothing. right?.₊˚⊹

convienence. a means to end. that's all this was for both of you right? when katsuki is fed up with the crazed fangirls who just won't leave him alone, he works out a deal with you. it was just coincidence he had a huge crush on you.

☆pair. 2ndyear!katsuki x reader. tags. fake dating!trope, fluff, reader is academically flopping for a bit, pet names, cursing, fighting (verbal), happy ending wc. 6k

ღnote. sorry that this took so long lol! i wrote this in chapter form if you'd like to read it here, but this one shot is the same thing.

post-war brought troubles for a lot of the students in class 1-A. especially bakugo katsuki.

he had to completely relearn how to write with his other hand, had to learn how to fight without injury to it.

and he had to learn to deal with his crazy amount of fangirls.

his fight had been broadcasted, the manner in which he pushed himself to the very brink broadcasted to the world. his victory brought spoils, though not in a way he expected.

he didn't expect to be chased down the hallways every morning, to have a line of girls wanting his autograph as he ate. he didn't expect to be gifted things, things they just assumed he liked, but couldn't be farther from the truth.

luckily, you seemed to like chocolate. he found refuge these days sitting on the roof floor of U-A next to you during lunch, passing you the chocolate gifts he'd been given.

he hated chocolate. but to be honest, he loved seeing you smile.

"thanks 'suki." you said for the nth time, picking the best chocolates out of the box and leaving the gross ones alone.

"yeah." he sighed, glancing at you occasionally as he moved to support the weight of his head with his hands. he found himself speechless around you often. words failing as he leant into the comfort of your presence.

you were about to say something, he thinks. your mouth was open though the blaring of the bell cut you off. "oh, let's go 'suki." you said, holding your hand out to him.

he took it, letting you pull him up and holding onto your hand for just a second too long. you dumped the rest of the chocolates in a trash can and made your collective way down to 1-A. you laughed at how he seemed to try and hide behind you, eyes darting around for the general course girls who seemed to have nothing better to do than follow him around.

they didn't come though. he saw a group of them but when they saw your proximity to him..

they left him alone.

a lightbulb went off in his head, he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. as he sat in class, eyeing your seat between momo and jirou, he thought about how he'd ask you.

test papers were being passed out, graded ones. "yo man," kirishima started, looking over his paper, "what'd you get?"

katsuki scoffed. "what do you think? another 100, easy as shit."

kaminari groaned beside him, "you're cheating or something! i got an 80."

"that's high for someone like you!"

"hey!"

"aw man, i got a 70. you're so manly bakubro!"

"yeah, guess i am."

katsuki tried to resist the turning of his head, he really did. but he wanted to know what score you got, if you did well. though from the expression on your face and the way momo patted you on the back,

not to mention the red ink used all over your paper. he knew you didn't.

"man this totally sucks!" you exclaimed, your hands clutching the paper of your test. "i studied and everything, i don't even need math, im a hero for crying out loud!"

jirou's teases and momo's comforts faded into the background as he only focused on you, and the nagging feeling for him to help you.

with another ring of the bell and a sigh from mr. aizawa, katsuki left early to try and beat the crowd of girls who seemed to pounce on him.

he didn't though, he found himself at the entrance at U-A, almost to freedom when the crowd pointed at him, "that's him! i can't believe it!"

"dynamite, an autograph please?"

"hey- don't be so casual. it's lord explosion--"

"who cares? i want a photo!"

at that, they chased him. all his progress down the stairs and through the halls was gone as he was led right back down to class 1-A. he stupidly lead himself right back into a corner.

his head darted around, until he noticed a tuft of familiar hair in the classroom. you hadn't left? oh well, he needed your help and quick.

you were sobbing internally, looking over your horrific test score with a sad expression. a 70? you might as well just drop out now.

as the hours of studying you'd done for waste passed over in your mind, a noise caught you off guard.

he had burst in, making your deflated form jump off the desk. "katsuki, don't scare me like that!"

he rushed over to your side, grabbing your hand off where it was hanging limply on the desk. "be my girlfriend for a second."

the words barely even processed in your brain before you were being manhandled off the desk, your mind rushed to catch up. "wait-- wha-"

before you knew it you were led towards the door of obsessed fan girls. his hand was intertwined tightly with yours, a slight flush on his face.

"listen up." he started, making his fans shush eachother. "my girlfriend hasn't been appreciating all your bullshit. and neither have i, so for the love of god stop it already."

he pulled you alongside him, "move." a path opened for the two of you, letting you two through. he walked you to the entrance, no words spoken between the two of you until you stopped infront of the lockers where you'd keep your shoes.

"[name]-- uh." he took a breath, his heart sped up rapidly around you. it sped up at the simple tilt of your head.

"so. if you help me with this shit, i'll tutor you.

or whatever."

a hand was behind his head, his averted eyes now focusing on you as he awaited your answer with baited breath.

you had an expression of thoughtfulness on your face. your finger on your chin as you looked up to the ceiling to think.

'have everyone think youre dating a cute boy and get a tutor?'

the pinkie of your hand shot out, a closed eye smile on your face. "i'm in!"

a soft smile graced his lips, his pinkie intertwining with yours and sealing his fate in more ways than one.

because you really did have him wrapped around your finger. literally and figuratively.

"let's go to my room so we can talk over it!"

you really were going to be the death of him.

it's not like he'd never been to your room, just not in a situation like this.

not when he'd declared himself your boyfriend an hour earlier, not when his hands were sweaty with his nervousness, and not when you'd agreed so hastily to be his.

he wondered if you'd accept if anyone else asked you. if izuku or todoroki had been facing this situation instead of him.

"'suki?" you patted the side of your bed next to you, "sit with me."

he sighed, the thoughts disappearing from his mind at your words. he really was whipped for you.

"yeah, yeah. i'm goin'" he sat beside you, oddly stiffer than normal. he held his own hands as he waited for you to say something.

"okay, so, we should have like-- a plan or something right?"

"a plan? what the fuck for?"

"like so we don't get caught faking this or whatever. if they find out your fans will just come back running, no?"

he shuddered at the thought. "yeah, don't wanna deal with that shit."

"right? so the first part of our plan, is that everyone has to think we're dating. cool?"

katsuki's mind was racing. cool? more like the best thing that would happen to him. he felt as if everyone knew of his crush on you.. except for you.

being to say he was all yours and that you were all his, even if it was a lie..

"yeah, it's cool."

"great, that's really the only thing we had to establish. we hang out a lot anyways so, we'll just have to be affectionate or something to seal the deal."

his heart jumped at the idea of hugging you, wrapping an arm around you, holding hands with you in public. the ghost of a smile came over him.

"right."

"cool. so nothing else matter--"

"we're starting your studying shit tomorrow. the next test is next week, so we don't have time to play around [name]."

"ughh. i wish you forgot about that." your head fell into your hands. "i hate math, what do i even need it for?"

"advanced math, nothing really. but estimates are important in hero work. estimating time, the abilities of your body, the amount of civilians, all that stuff."

"you're such a nerd."

"hah?"

he continued explaining the importance of math to you despite your grievances. his finger was pointed in the air, you swore you could see the need emoji popping over his face.

your eyes closed, the weight of the day, your grade, and the thought of studying alongside a nerd like katsuki tiring you to no avail. you yawned, laying your head on his shoulder.

you could hear the thumping of his heart, the racing of his blood in his veins. it rocked you to sleep, "wake me up later, m' a take a nap." you mumbled against his shoulder, before falling asleep.

his mouth shut, eyes peeled on your body that now clung to his side. his face grew hot, when did it get so hot in your damn room?

he tried his best to stay awake, to let you nap and wake you up in the morning. but as the clock hit eight o clock, the time he was supposed to head back to his dorm.. he found himself stuck in place.

not by an invisible force, not by some obligation. it was only the thought of wanting to be with you, next to you. wanting to let the comfort of your weight next to him drive himself to sleep.

so he did. he fell asleep, letting his head lay on top of yours, holding your body closer to his. shutting his eyes.

the light of the sun woke him up first, you didn't close your blinds yesterday, and the sun shined brightly,

directly into his face. he groaned, his voice deep from sleep as he peeled himself off of you. he was confused from fatigue, wondering why he was still in your room.

he felt an arm around his waist, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to see it was you who was holding him close. he thinks you were using him in place of your huge teddy bear, the one laid neatly in the corner of your bed.

his heart rate quickened once again, wanting to go back to his room, but fighting the urge to stay looking at you.

an absentminded hand moved a couple strands of your hair out your face, pinching your cheek when he got bold.

you don't wake up, he sighed a breath of relief. 'til he felt your body start to stir, you pushed your head more into his chest, your eyes finally starting to open slightly.

"oh? g'morning kat'." you were sleepy, your words slightly slurred and muffled from how you were pressed against him.

"you slept here?" you asked, pulling away from him as you moved to stretch your upper body.

"uh-- yeah." he was once again lost for words at the sight of you, your shirt slightly pulled up from how you'd slept, your hair messy from the lack of a protective style before sleep.

"sorry for waking you up then, 'suki."

"no, i was already up. i just didn't wanna wake you."

"well, you failed." you joked. "anyways, you should get out of here soon, if iida sees you he'll probably flip out and tell mr. aizawa."

"right."

"let's walk to class together!" you clasped his hands in yours. "okay?"

you were going to be the death of him once again. "okay."

you let go and he got up, ruffling his hair slightly and looking back at you who sent him a small smirk and wave. before slowly walking out your door. he did his best to keep his movements quiet and minimal.

he was at the elevator, before uraraka walked out. shit. "bakugo? what are you doing here?"

"uh.. got lost."

her face scrunched in confusion, a knowing smile on her face after a second. "right.. tell [name] good morning for me."

".. tell her yourself." he got into the elevator, already seeing the grin in uraraka's face as he went up a floor to his room.

the same grin everyone greeted him with as he went to sit next to you in the common room, having made you some breakfast. he and you were all ready, you had refreshed your hair from when he was playing with it, simple makeup and your uniform ironed. he admired you while he ate his meal.

"ah, thanks 'suki."

"mhm."

you moved to whisper in his ear, "why's everyone looking at us?"

"fuck if i know."

"so you two lovebirds aren't gonna say anything?" denki said, putting his hands on his hips as he looked you two over.

"'bout what?"

"that you two are totally dating!" mina exclaimed, pointing at you. "and you didn't say anything? wow [name], i thought.. we were closer than that." she mock fully cried.

katsuki was about to say something, you cut him off though. "i thought everyone knew?" with a tilt of your head, a question mark almost visible from the blank expression you wore.

the class only sighed, kirishima shrugged his shoulders. "yeah, we should've guessed. i mean bakugo had a obvious crush on you for the longest."

"yeah, good looks man." sero gave him a thumbs up.

"tch. let's go [name]." he sat up, placing his and your finished dishes in the sink before you followed behind him.

"right! bye guys!"

you grabbed his hand as you walked out the door. nobody was around, there was no need to keep up appearances now.

but that didn't stop him from holding your hand tighter.

and that didn't stop you from clinging even more to his side.

it seemed you two were now together all the time. a clingy couple is what you seemed like to your friends, and more importantly his fans.

at lunch he could now be in the cafeteria again, you were stuck his side as you ate, an arm around you as you shared his food, insisting his cooking was better than the U-A food.

you were caged in by his body, you really did just look like a sappy couple to everyone.

during class, he was caught glancing at you. a lot. he'd roll his eyes and pretend nothing even happened, but everyone knew he was far gone.

during training, as you sparred you noticed he was going harder on you than before. some would think that because you were his crush he wouldn't get so aggressive,

too bad katsuki only wanted to push you harder, get you to show the strength he saw you unleash on those villains in the war. he wanted you to be stronger beside him, if he was number one, he'd want you to be ranked closely to him, because he knew you were strong enough.

that didn't mean it wasn't any more hard to fight him, the man was a maniac.

"you can chill out you know!"

"what? can't take it?!"

"no, slow your fucking roll!" you barely dodged his other attack, just barely moving out the way as he threw an explosion in your direction.

you now had met the conditions to use your quirk, comeback. by generating a max of 8 orbs, they'd absorb energy that you could use back for your offense. the only downside?

melee attacks couldn't be absorbed at all.

a kick to your legs sent you to the ground, you dispersed one of your orbs with the explosion stored inside of it.

"be nice and let me win!!"

"no."

he dodged your attack and pinned you to the ground. he won.

"you're so mean 'suki." you shoved him off you, making him grunt. "a good boyfriend would've let me win!"

a nagging voice in the back of his head was telling him he wasn't yours, you weren't his, and that he was only doing this for his convinience.

"well, i guess i'll be a better one next time."

even that voice couldn't deny that the way he cared for you wasn't anything less than real. that even if this relationship was fake, that he was undoubtedly yours. that the way he held his hand out to you, lifting you as gently as he could fathom.

"wanna go again?" he asked, a boyish smirk on his face.

"you know it!"

your plan of tiring katsuki out with exercise didn't work, so you found yourself in his room at his desk. showered and wiping the dew off your neck with a towel, you sat in front of him with a book splayed open.

he was hammering topic after topic into you.. statistics or something? you weren't really paying attention, you were more interested in the bulge of his muscles out of his tank top.

his words were a blur when you suddenly found yourself reaching a hand out to feel his muscle,

your hand squeezing it.

'firm. hm.' you thought, until he pulled you away, an incredulous look on his face. "this is why your class ranking keeps falling [name]. focus!"

"how can i focus with you in front of me? it's like dancing a donut in front of a cop!" you whined, face planted onto his desk.

"you're.. insane."

"you love me though, don't you?" the words slipped out of your lips without a second thought, your face flushing slightly. "oops, sorry! almost forgot you arent my like-- real boyfriend!"

he swore he heard a bit of disappointment in your voice, felt a bit of reluctance in your movements as you pulled away at him, saw a bit of longing in your eyes.

"uh.. yeah. 's fine. let's just.. take a break." he said, motioning over to lay on his bed and do nothing for a little while.

if you would've told him a couple months ago that he'd be sat, face to face, body next to body, hands awkwardly close to each other as you remained in silence. you'd had a movie on in the background, something stupid he thought. not like he payed attention to it at all.

it was comfortable, being around you. he'd be a liar if he said that he didn't like the fact that everyone now thought you were his and vice versa. not just his fans, not just yours, but your mutual friends. family.

"do you wanna try again?" he asked after a while, voice soft and his hand moving to rub his eyes. it was his bedtime, eight o clock sharp, but he'd break it for you.

"hm? to be honest no." you moved to face him. "you look tired anyways 'suki, you should sleep."

he grumbled, his eyes closing slightly as he slowly swatted your hand away from his face, his grip lingering on your wrist.

"right." he yawned. he didn't know if it was the sleep or impulse, maybe a mixture of both. but he pulled you closer to him. making you crash against his chest with his head in the nook of your neck.

"stay." he uttered, his breath flush against your neck making the hairs stand up.

"katsuki?" you thought you were dreaming. you'd move to pinch yourself if you weren't being pinned down by him.

"please?"

"..okay." your words barely matched your actions. you cuddled more into him, pulling him impossibly closer as you melted into eachother.

a blanket was thrown over the two of you. you fell asleep in his arms, the beating of his heart matching yours as you breathed a sigh of realization.

you were horribly in love with katsuki bakugo. and he was with you.

your 'fake' activities as a couple were coming along a little bit too easily to the two of you.

feeding him a snack in his room as a joke, him finding out he kind of liked being babied, him blackmailing you so you shut up.

all couple things. normal couple activity.

you didn't even have to continue those things behind closed doors, but it just came so naturally. it seemed wrong not to do it.

it seemed wrong for him not to sling a hand over you, not to hold your hand when it was so close to him, not to move the stray strands of hair and tuck it behind your ear.

it seemed wrong for him not to save a spot for you at lunch, not to wake up a bit earlier and slip out of your sleepy grasp to prepare you a meal alongside his.

not to make some breakfast for you, light or heavy, depending on what he'd learned you preferred.

not to walk with you to class, even walking with you to go see your general studies friend in the morning, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face as he watched you rave on about a show you'd watched recently.

why wouldn't he do it if he could? why shouldn't he watch your favorite shows just to have things to talk to you about?

he found himself fighting to stay focused during your study sessions now too. he found himself noticing things about you, the smaller things.

how you'd flip your hello kitty pencil around while you were speaking. how you'd bite your lips in concentration, your expressions of disbelief when you actually started getting things correct.

he'd have to cover his hand with his face. you were just too cute.

sometimes he'd even get distracted mid sentence. he was explaining simple things over again, just to make sure you knew what it meant.

but it was hard even keeping eye contact with you.

"so, in this problem x would be.. uh.." he went silent, his mouth open but no words escaping.

"x would be what? 7?" you showed your page of work to him, with a nervous smile. "if it's not right tell me already! i know im kinda dumb, it won't hurt my feelings too bad i swear!"

he looked down back at his page. mentally slamming his head onto the table, before recovering. "yeah, no you're right. you got it."

you slammed the work onto his desk, "finally! then we can break now right?"

"yeah, 'guess so."

"let's do something fun. take a walk, my legs hurt from sitting." you pulled him up by his hand, dragging him to his door. "hurry up!"

he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, you really reminded him of just how young you two were. how he was just a high schooler with a huge crush, how--

"why are you looking at me like that? are you sick?" you placed a hand on his forehead, making him promptly rip it off. a scowl quickly replaced the smile that been on his face moments prior. "no i'm not. let's go."

you walked hand in hand, the sunset the background for your 'date'.

the last few days, he'd been nervous to bring up what was happening between you. he was nervous to ruin the odd relationship you two had, he didn't want to lose you. he thought the things you two had been doing crossed the line between friendship and lovers.

you didn't have to do any of this. though he was sure you knew that already.

"math exam's tomorrow."

"don't remind me! you totally ruined the moment you know."

"you'll pass. i mean, i was your tutor after all. if you fail with me as a teacher? you are a lost cause."

"that's not nice to say." you ripped his hand away from yours, crossing your arms on your chest. "thats really messed up 'suki."

he leant down to face you, the sun goldening you two in its wake as he grew a cocky smirk on his lips. "oh really?"

"yes really."

"n' what're you gonna do about it?" his face was barely an inch away from yours. with a glance to his lips, he moved closer.

he barely pecked you, before he heard a loud, obnoxious idiot speak from behind him.

"[name] and bakugo are totally making out over here!"

denki and kirishima were looking at the two of you, a glare crossed over katsuki's face as he basically dragged you with him back into his dorm. he was about to leave you at your dorm, the hallway empty since curfew was around the corner.

he held your hands in his, running his thumb over the knuckle of yours. he intertwined your fingers, only letting go after a while.

he tilted your head upwards with his two fingers, wordlessly asking for permission. moonlight now struck you two as he moved in.

uninterruptedly, he kissed you. deepening it with a pull of the hand, holding you against him.

he let go after a while, his internal clock signaling it was almost time for curfew.

before he left, he whispered to you. "i don't.. really care what we're labeled. and if this shit is real or not.

i just want to be close to you."

he turned, walking to the elevator. leaving your breathless, with your heart in your throat.

no more words were spoken between you two, not as you screamed into your pillow, and not as he stared up into the ceiling of his room.

you passed that math test. and each assignment that went with it.

the end of the year was now coming quickly, of the school year that is. you and katsuki still kept up your 'act', the activities now stretching to dates after school mixed in with your study sessions.

one's that'd leave the touch of katsuki on you more than the touch of knowledge. but it was working nonetheless.

it was all good between you two, an eternal honeymoon it seemed. after all, by now it had been at least seven months since this began. your class ranking was higher, he no longer had to worry about strolling through the halls, it seemed nothing could get in your way.

well, besides two things.

one: the fact that you two were scared to label in between yourselves yet, too bashful to call him your boyfriend and you his girlfriend in private, yet proud fully admitting it to others.

two, the girl currently straddling him with no regard to you whatsoever. your entire cafeteria table was staring at her, looking at what katsuki would do to move her off.

but when he didn't immediately, didn't immediately curse the girl out and push her off him? you did the job for him.

you yanked the girl by her hair, sending her to the floor with a tray of food falling onto her body. all attention was on you as you stared at katsuki, your mouth agape in anger.

"what the fuck bakugo?" you ignored her, even stepping on her leg slightly as your hands were agitated, your whole body was. you didn't even know why you were jealous. this wasn't real, it never was, he was just playing his role too well.

you should've known katsuki would go too far. he always did.

"babe-- it's not what you think-"

"then what was i looking at? and don't call me that. don't- don't fucking call me anything. we're over."

you knew to him that probably meant something different. you acclaimed the despair in his eyes to the loss of protection, to the loss of ease as he walked in the halls and the lack of paparazzi that'd ask him questions on his love life.

but to him it was so much more.

it was those things, yes. but it was more so the thought of losing you. the thought of the affection over the months being nothing but a memory and not his future. the thought of not having you close to him.

the thoughts of becoming nothing to you, less than a friend.

he didn't know why he didn't move, it was like he physically couldn't. the look in the girl's eyes, the grip she had on him, the weird smile. he recognized her as one of the girls who usually would be in the crowd following him around.

"you don't mean that." his voice sounded more desperate than it had in the whole time he'd met you, more longing slipping through than he intentioned.

but the sun's casting light had moved away from you, casting you in a shadow. "i do mean it. fuck you."

he was going to run after you, to chase you as you slammed your lunch tray into the trash. heading up to the rooftop to he alone.

but a hand, mina's, pulled him back. "i think.. you did enough bakugo."

she went after you instead, promising to bakugo she'd check on you.

fangirls were one thing? but a messy public breakup where you were never really something in the first place? surprisingly worse.

he'd been more snappy lately, his aura making the girls around him keep their distance.

he'd become quieter, closed off. you didn't come to eat lunch with him anymore, obviously. and he didn't go up to the rooftop to join you.

he didn't know how to speak to you, how to explain what happened, how to say that he was sorry.

he ran the scenario in his head a million times, thinking over the girl's quirk that had forced him into place. but it sounded so convenient, like he was lying.

but since your entire relationship was based off of one, he didn't know how to approach the topic in the first place.

a week. a week passed before he could muster up the words to speak to you.

a week of being ignored in the hallways, side glances and being walked off on. a week of not having you by his side, not having you to talk to, to study with,

to kiss.

you were alone on the rooftop, eating silently as you felt a presence behind you. you saw his hair in the shadow and sighed, placing your plate onto the floor next to you. "what?"

"let me talk."

"...fine."

he breathed a sigh, hands balling as he forced the words out. "i know what you saw. and i know it was bad, but listen. that.. girl. she had some quirk on me or something."

he paused, seeing as your movement shifted. he took the fact that you didn't leave as a sign to continue.

"i couldn't move, i would've. you know that. but, it was right for you to be fucking pissed. i'd be too.

and i know, this is my fault in a way. i've been.. a fuckin' loser about this." his hand went up to support his head, his eyes averting from where he felt yours eyeing him.

"i needed to ask you out, officially i mean, a long time ago. it was wrong of me to use you-"

"it wasn't like that and you know it." you moved now to face him, you taking his hands in yours once more.

"what are we? to you i mean."

"right now..

we're nothing, right?"

your eyes widened, his eyes came back to look at yours.

"what?"

the words settled between you, it sent a cold shiver down your spine at the implication.

"wait-- fuck i'm messing this shit up. i mean, we're, not anything right now. we weren't anything."

your heart sank, eyes falling to the floor though your hand still held by him. your bleeding heart was in his grasp too, it was apparent.

"but,

i'd like to be? if you'd have me."

he squeezed your hand tightly. "i, i think i did this all out of order. but, would you go out with me?"

you let out an anxious laugh mixed with emotion. relief? despair? you honestly didn't know. tears burned the corners of your eyes.

"you're-- you're real weird, you know that?"

"is that a no."

"no, it's a yes. i think."

"ya think?"

"you don't get to question me!"

"yeah, whatever." you shared a laugh of relief together. he held you, moving away to bring something out of his pocket.

a small bento box for you.

you gasped at the sight of it, it was so cute. "thank god! i hate this school shit." you sat down, patting the side beside you, prompting him to sit down.

"wow, a heart? don't tell me you like me or something katsuki."

instead of deflecting, of telling you to buzz off, of shoving you lightly, a small smile came over his lips once again. after a beat, he laughed boyishly.

"you caught me."

...

he patted your back as you choked on the heart shaped seaweed.

your first date was cute, a small picnic with the country of musatafu as your backdrop. it was weird, this scene had played out between you two various times. in his room, in public, in private, to everyone else you two had just recovered from a messy breakup. and yet,

your stomachs were filled with butterflies at the affection between you two.

your rank was high, the dates were endless between the two of you now. study dates, just going to cafes, mundane things became more when you were by each others side.

years passed, and your poor dorm was going mostly unused. you'd sleep in his bed most of the time, actually- you'd spent most of your time in his room. he even cleared out a section for you in his closet despite the fact that yours was perfectly fine.

graduation came along, your careers came rushing at the two of you.

you were the top rated woman hero, and he was number one. just like he dreamt, just like he imagined the future would be for the two of you all those years ago.

you were picking out some drinks from the vending machine, a pocky hanging out your mouth as you decided between two flavors.

you finally chose, having two drinks in your hand for you and katsuki when he suddenly dragged you into an alleyway, grunting when he pushed you against the wall.

deja vu? maybe, you felt like you lived through this before, the same mindless stampede of girls rushing past.

"i told you to clip down your hair."

"shut up. don't they even care that we're married now? why do they fucking bother?." he sighed, annoyed as he lightly grabbed the can out your hand, his frustration not matching his actions.

"well, maybe we need something that'd make it even more official." a lightbulb went over the both of your heads. you faced each other, a streetlight letting you see the slight pink tint of his cheeks.

"a ca-"

"a baby."

you laughed, keeling over at the sight of his face that grew impossibly red.

you went home, hand in hand, the photos of the two of you together making rounds in the media again.

but as you laid with his head laid on your lap, your head rested comfortably against the furniture you'd chosen for your home?

you couldn't help but feel like everything worked out perfectly.

and with the new addition of your family laid sleeping on top of katsuki's chest.

tags (can't tag orange :c): @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @amayaaaxx @i-the-fluffo @irenne-stans @hisonlyobsession @dead-fish-soup @pretty-sparkle-bomb @matchat3a @yura-4life @djlance-rock @zuzukusna @hiimsaraandyou @uy242c

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[sun-kissy]

balm | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1k

summary: bucky finds out that you got a (minor) bruise and didn’t tell him about it

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of accident and bruise, reader gets a little guilty, bucky gets a little upset

“Hey,” you feel Bucky’s hands on your hips, the soft touch of his lips to your cheek. “Hey, doll. Did you get lovelier over the weekend?”

You try to ignore the stinging sensation where his hand rests against your waist. You turn around to face him, abandoning your task of chopping the vegetables.

“Bucky,” you smile softly, arms going around his neck. He grins and kisses you again. “Hi. I missed you.”

“So did I, pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumbing at the skin underneath the edge of your shirt. He’s gentle as always, but the pain is almost unbearable. You try not to squirm. “There were so many times I almost called. But of course, Sam wouldn’t let me. You know, strictly classified location and all that.”

Bucky had gone on a mission over the weekend, and had just gotten back a couple hours ago. You let yourself into his apartment as soon as you got a text from him.

He’d mentioned craving pasta, so you started making some. The only thing you were trying to think about right now was making him feel loved after what must have been an exhausting few days.

You hum understandingly, turning back towards the kitchen platform and picking up the knife. Your shoulders almost sag with relief when Bucky lets go of your hips and stands beside you.

He eases the knife out of your hands, ignoring your protests. “Seriously, doll, it’s okay. I can do this. Why don’t you get started on the pasta?”

“Fine,” you sigh, moving to make way for your boyfriend to use the chopping board.

Bucky chuckles at your stubbornness. He glances over as you stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above the stove.

One moment, you’re rummaging through the shelf to find pasta, and the next, you feel his strong hands curving around your stomach and pulling you back down.

“Bucky —“

“What —“ Bucky interrupts, spinning you around. His hands find your shirt. “— is that?” He lifts it up, lightly brushing his fingertips over the dark purple lying just above your waistline. You try not to flinch. He notices, his frown deepening.

“It’s a… um… a bruise.”

“I know it’s a bruise, doll,” Bucky sighs. He crouches to get a better look at it, and you feel your muscles tensing up. From the stress or the pain, you’re not sure. “I mean, how did you — when did you get this? How did this happen?”

You swallow. His concern makes your heart squeeze in awful ways. “I, um… I got it today.”

“Today?” his gaze flicks up to yours worriedly as he stands up straight. “How?”

“Well, so you see,” you suck in a breath, “there was this other car which crashed into mine from behind —“

“What?!”

“No! Wait,” you grab his hands desperately, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s not as bad as you think it is, really. Just let me finish.”

You could’ve sworn he was glaring at you, but he kept his mouth shut.

“So, nothing major happened —“ you gulp at his deadpan look, “— really! I just got jerked a litte from the impact, and the steering wheel hit me.”

“This hard?”

You confirm it with a nod.

Bucky exhales, fingers finding the rough patch again as he slips his fingers under your shirt. He presses it gently. You wince. “Did you at least get it cleaned up?”

The guilty expression on your face tells him enough. But you still confirm it with a feeble, “no.”

His eyebrows bunch together. “That can’t be good,” he mutters to himself, tugging on the waistband of your shorts to get a better look. “Can you please come to the toilet with me? I think we should disinfect it.”

You’re too overwhelmed with shame to do anything but agree. You let Bucky pull you to the washroom, manoeuvre you with his kind hands to sit on the closed toilet seat. He sits below, first aid kit in his lap.

You know he’s upset, even if he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t show in the gentle way he wipes a washcloth over the area; the way he rests his chin on your knee as he works.

But it does show when he starts to apply the antiseptic cream. You hiss between clenched teeth, and he seems to have been reminded of the fact that you’re in pain, that you were in pain and you didn’t bother telling him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t reply, opting instead to bite down on your lip. Bucky is quick to reach for your face, gently pulling it free from your assail.

He asks again, softer, like he wasn’t kind enough the first time. It makes you feel like a bitch.

“You just got back, you know,” you mumble. “You’re probably exhausted, and — and sick of me, and…”

“Sick of you?” he interrupts quietly, something akin to confusion on his features. He sounds hurt. “I could never be sick of you, doll. And… and I missed you. You know I missed you.”

Once again, you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t need you to.

“Listen,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt back down, “It’s my job to worry about you, okay? I don’t want you worrying about me worrying about you. Because I want to.”

“Are you sure —“

“I’m sure, lovely girl,” he says, getting up on his knees to kiss you. You bend forwards, feeling his affection soothe over you like a balm.

Bucky pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Promise not to hide things like these from me again, okay? I want to care about you.”

“You want to care about me.”

“I do,” he murmurs, smiling slightly at the awe in your tone. “I do, doll. I love you.” He presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you.”

Bucky revels in the beauty of your smile when you say it back, the first real one he got from you all evening. He was glad to be home.

[anantaru]

HSR + HE TEACHES YOU

— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, boothill, dr ratio, sunday x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — inexperienced! reader, slightly possessive ?? hsr men, dirty talk, pet names used: baby, good girl, oral (male! receiving), cowgirl, dom ?? but veritas is mean, slightly possessive sunday (he's a little weird, am i right guys?)

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱

aventurine doesn't know what to do with himself other than receive your warm, innocent tongue with open arms, his fleeting gaze radiant like jewels and focused on your mouth splitting so effortlessly when he finally inserts himself between your plush lips.

"please— look at how excited you are," his words made you shudder, although desires and excitement also furnished your mind. it was all there— his handsome voice, his musky scent, the salty taste on your tongue and for you, the new flavor felt weird, yes, slightly bitter when you swallow down.

but aventurine's cock repeatedly rolling over your tongue over and over began to taste like in the most delicious, toe curling way imaginable.

he was thickly warm on your tongue, and heavy, making your jaw slack with ease, "put it in your mouth like that, yes, ahh yes, just like that baby," as you begin to move your head up and down with the help of him, heating him from the inside out.

the little flicker of your tongue intrigued him— the slow, wet susurration of slurping that was sloppy and without a precise way of doing it; but wow, you're so good at this, looking flawless between his legs with a slip of his shadow on your innocent silhouette.

when wicked of lust, his amused eyes smile down at you, grunting inside his hot and bothered chest with your mouth tightly pressed against his shaft before you suckle up again, hollowed cheeks staying content.

aventurine leads you, and tells you to be slow, take your time.

he wants to teach you on how to suck his dick, for possible future needs— because hey? he surely hopes this won't be the last time he would be able to do this with you. not when he can barely wait to touch, stroke and lick you himself.

— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱

boothill mentally congratulates himself for keeping his carnal desires in check and sliding himself slowly inside, gruelingly slow that it drove you into insanity.

not to forget on how difficult he found it to hide his visible excitement that you wanted him to be your first, the first person to fill you up with a cock, a thick and hefty cock.

your muscles immediately twitch and the insides of your thighs tense, your body snapping in all the right ways.

"ahh, yeah, good girl, such good girl for me," he slurrs in desperation of wanting more, just more of this, more of you— and oh? what sweet victory to get a literal galaxy ranger to say that out loud.

his eyes glimmer like diamonds as the constant pulse of your walls clamp into his erection, he could no longer think beyond the next touch.

boothill was supposed to be the experienced one out of the two of you yet you make it so intoxicatingly difficult for him to stay focused.

he gasps, arched his back and presses deep, stroking your insides back and forth, coaxing in perfect time with caressing kisses all over your face, "the sound you just made when i slipped it in, ugh, you can't be real," boothill whispers and hisses when you squeeze him, your toes curling at the new feeling of a heavy weight bulking in you, like it's about to reach your belly.

"i'm so lucky i can call you mine," he kisses your bottom lip and focuses on your face— your dizzying and addictive expression that he hoped would be decorated with drool and sweat all over after he's done with making you feel good.

ah well, the man knows it won't take much for you to cum all over him, you're already glistening and showing him how wet you are with the amount of slick sousing your folds and his shaft each time he pulls back, only to snap in all the way inside.

— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱

"you wanted me to teach you on how to ride me, didn't you?" between your sobs, you manage to huff out a small shut up in an attempt to take away the attention of veritas deliberately holding you down his cock by your hips cruelly.

no sobs, no whines and aims to reason with him seemed to work in your favor nor displayed any form of you actually getting your way.

"i'm not, I mean, i said that but—," a shaken moan departs from your throat when he bottoms out, this time clearly, smirking when your tits move in harmony with his movements.

"now, why are you squirming like that then?" he continues, allowing you to feel him pulse and throb before holding you down entirely.

"you can't take it after all, can you?" with need, you attempt to bounce on him, turning utterly sensitive by the intensity of his cock swelling everywhere, no single inch of your walls left untouched.

you nod and place your hands against his chest as veritas suddenly makes you fall forward by another shove up into your cunt, your tits pressing against his stone-hard chest.

he looks at you through hooded eyes, his jaw clenched as he enjoyed watching the effect he had on you, then he fucks and fucks and fucks into you three times in a row— reckless, daring, blind to reality, making your arousal come out all the more consistent, "oh, you do? you sure?"

"yes I am, ugh, fuck, veritas just let me move already," you bark back, your body convulsing in near-pain and much relief when he rubs your walls over his shaft again. like a second heart beat between your legs, your walls flutter around his erection as you feel your blood rush to every edge and limit in your body. 

"you look a little tense sitting on my cock like that," his hands squeeze your waist as he says it so confidently, in a way that would make you want to smack that pretty, stupidly handsome expression off of him.

but right now, you do not mind, you can always get revenge on him later because even after the slight bickering from before, now he holds you against his chest in a deep embrace.

it's strange, yes, but it feels real.

— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱

"hey, please," sunday mumbles sincerely as his palm strokes over your trembling thigh, "you're so pretty, don't avert your eyes from me now," and he's awfully good at keeping you in place, holding your legs up just right while telling you to always keep them wrapped around his waist.

it feels better this way, when you practically hold me in like that is what he whispers into your ear the entire night— it's scarcely an audible tone but it's there, right against your lips, the vibrations of his angelic groans alone reaching all the way to your wet cunt.

"you feel so good around me, you know that?" he rolls his hips tentatively, swallowing the saliva in his throat as his hips jerk faster each time you moaned louder.

every single moment when a faint whimper of his name rolls from your tongue, sunday loses a slice of his sanity.

with great effort, he does the most to make you feel insanely well, finding himself entranced by the silkiness of your walls and how easy it was to slip inside you, your slick and sweat streaking your skin and practically inviting him to absolutely ruin you— until your innocent, never touched before, body would take over the musk of him.

it's a perverted fantasy, yes, but sunday needs you to be his.

after this night, he wouldn't want anybody to touch you other than himself. your moans were like an aphrodisiac to him, a drug that felt so good that it made him go feral, rock his hips faster and pinch your pulsing clit until you're creaming all over his shaft.

only then, he will teach you more, perhaps on how to suck his dick later or how you should rest your legs against his shoulders when he goes down on you— fuck, you're just so precious, clenching all over him.

your doe eyes flutter up at his own welcoming ones, and he makes you keep the eye contact until you see it, until you can see into his mind, the one his reality dwells in.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 ─── heavenly body

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫ worship - ari abdul

♡ pairing ៸៸ idolbf!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ smut ៸៸ cw ៸៸ smut with basically no plot, slight sub!chan, as well as slight dom!reader, reader is pretty vocal, some dirty talk, handjob, blowjob turned face f!cking.. if i miss anything else lmk ♡ synopsis ៸៸ you decide to worship your boyfriend, chan, since he thinks so lowly of himself. ♡ taglist ៸៸ @ephorxa ♡ m.list

you watched as your boyfriend stepped out of the shower, steam rolling off his body and water droplets cascading down his chest. he always looked so good, but as your eyes wandered over every muscle, every inch of his skin, you couldn’t help but feel a pang run from your chest to your stomach. 

what upset you about this was that he never saw what you did–he was always too critical of himself. whether it be his looks or his talent. he was so mean to himself and you couldn’t understand why. 

you set your phone down on the bedside table and walked into your en-suite bathroom, then leaned in the doorway as he dried off his thighs and groin. he noticed you, and a small smile curved onto his pretty face. “hi.” he started to wrap the towel around his waist, but you gently grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “hi.” 

he let out a soft chuckle, looking down at you. “babe. i need to at least put on boxers before we watch the movie.” he grabbed your wrist with his own hand, about to pull it away. “wait.” you said softly, tugging him out of the bathroom and toward the bed. “what?” he asked you, stumbling forward. with a little shove, he sat on the edge of the bed, towel loosely draped on his lap, just barely covering  his manhood. you walked toward him, slowly. he leaned back, propping himself up on his hands as he watched you. 

“you look too good..” you finally spoke, straddling him on the bed. his breath hitched in his throat as he felt your lips pepper kisses on his jawline. “sh-shut up..” he said shyly, his ears turning dark red at your words and actions, which were quickly sending him into a submissive headspace. “i’ll never shut up about how perfect you are, baby.” you purr, raking your fingers through his damp curls. he let out a soft groan, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. you took the opportunity to kiss his irresistible lips, which tasted like mint, since he had just brushed his teeth not too long ago. you pressed yourself against him, cupping his face and deepening the kiss instantly. his hands moved from the bed behind him to your thighs, kneading the plump flesh. 

slowly, and teasingly, you pull away from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth, making him whine. “how ‘bout i show you how much i love your body?” you ask him, though it wasn’t much of a question. his expression softens at your words but he doesn’t stop you, especially not as your hands move from his face to his shoulders, pressing your fingertips into his trap muscles. he nodded eagerly before leaning his head back and groaning quietly as you kissed on the soft, sensitive skin on his neck. 

“mm.. you’re too good to me.” he managed to speak, looking up at you as you pulled away briefly. you grinned down at him, caressing his cheek gently. “you deserve it all.” you respond, slipping off his lap and kissing his neck once more, before traveling further south. his hands fell back behind him once again, keeping him propped up on the bed. a breathy moan escaped his lips as you littered kisses on his chest, then down each ab muscle. he watched you intently as you mapped out all your favorite parts of him.. stopping at your favorite favorite. his waist. you tugged the towel down ever so slightly, revealing more of his skin. so soft, so beautifully sculpted. he inhaled deeply, his muscles flexing as he watched you, showing off his vline. you looked from his bare skin up to meet his eyes as you leaned down and kissed his hip, gradually turning them into sloppy wet kisses. 

he sucked in a breath once he felt you tug the towel down all the way, revealing his semi-hard length. “baby, please..” he whined, looking down at you, his eyebrows tugging together. “please what?” you purred, your hands kneading his thighs now, slightly pushing them apart as you kneeled down fully. he bucked his hips up, unable to use his words from how flustered he was. you smiled, wrapping a hand around his length and kissing the skin on his pubic bone. “use your words, love.” you said, your breath fanning onto his skin as you stroked him slowly. 

“need you..” he trailed off, thrusting into your hand in an attempt to increase the friction. a soft hum of approval left your lips before you leaned forward, licking the bead of precum off his pink cockhead. an even louder whine left his lips and he fisted the bedding under him, his cock now rock hard from your teasing hands and mouth. “not good enough, channie..” you ask, maintaining the slow pace of your hand. 

“fuck–i don’t care.. please, just give me something..” he let out a pant, becoming impatient. you became impatient as well, needing to taste more of him. so, at his wishes, you leaned forward, spitting sloppily on his cock, lubricating him so you could stroke him faster. he let out a low groan of satisfaction, his eyes rolling back into his head. while pumping his shaft in your hand,  you leaned down and wrapped your lips around his angry, now red cockhead, earning more delicious moans from the man. 

he bit his lip, whimpering quietly as he thrusted up into your hand/mouth. you popped off his length only for a moment. “c’mon, baby, let me hear you,” you murmur against his length before bringing it back into your mouth, sucking on his tip and pressing your tongue to the underside. his thighs shake under your arms, and he lets out a loud, guttural growl through gritted teeth. the lewd noises from your expert mouth and the slickness under your hand is making him closer and closer every second. 

“you feel.. so good..” he was struggling to get the words out, but when he did, they were low, whiny, and rushed. your free hand wandered from his thigh to his stomach and waist, grazing your fingertips over his soft flesh. you could feel his muscles flexing as his body tensed from the pleasure you were giving him, and for some reason that turns you on so much more. “g-gonna.. cum..” he trailed off, thrusting into your hand and mouth, three times as desperately as before. 

his shaky hand rested on your head briefly before he gripped your hair, making you whine in pleasure now. he wanted to cum so bad, he was fucking your face at this point, your hand out of the picture as his throbbing, slobbery cock pistoned in and out of your wet mouth. 

after a game of tug-of-war, both of you teetering between dom/subspace, he finally snaps back into his usual role, triggered by watching you on your knees, whimpering, with your hands kneading his thighs as he fucked into your face. he let out a loud, guttural roar as he began to cum, holding your head still as his cock twitched in your mouth and coated your tongue with his release. 

after a moment, he released his grip on your hair, letting you pull yourself off him as you swallowed. however, you were still too caught up in wanting to worship this man, and too drunk on the taste of him to pull away right away. you lean forward again, licking any remnants of his release off his shaft and tip, digging your tongue into his slit. he let out a soft, shaky groan, watching you with half-lidded eyes as his chest still rose and fell rapidly from his orgasm. 

“mmm..” you hummed, finally popping off his cock wetly. he helped you up, placing the towel back over his lap. “thank you, baby..” he said softly, petting your hair, neatly combing it back into place since it was disheveled from his rough handling just moments ago. “you don't need to thank me…” you respond, running your hands over his shoulders soothingly. his expression softened and he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss to your lips before kneading your thighs again. 

“well.. now its my turn to return the favor.” he grinned against your lips, squeezing your ass and flipping you onto your back, making you giggle and squeal.

please do not copy my work. see pinned for guidelines and requests.

[amazinglyashy]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

[ribbonprincess]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

"Do a lil twirl for me,yeah...your ass looks so good baby." Rafe chuckles,fixing his pants as they tightened around his crotch,the sight of you in a tiny white mini skirt the reason.

"You like it rafey? I bought It thinking of you" "yeah,no shit- you used my credit card" he chuckles. Moving from his spot on the bed,he walks over you,laying his hands on your hips as he squishes the skin. "You should wear it today while I go golfing,you can look pretty in the cart and if you're good enough daddy will buy you a drink."

He smiles before tilting his head down to press his lips against yours as you whine almost immediately,slapping his chest "my lipgloss! you just smeared it all over,daddy." Turning around to face the mirror as you try to deescalate the situation of your almost ruined makeup,dabbing at the area around your lips with a beauty blender.

"Yeah yeah,'s just lip gloss,it's nothing serious." Gasping dramatically you turn around,hand on your chest as if you've been shot as you point a finger at his chest "'s not just lipgloss.."

Chuckling to himself Rafe presses a kiss against your shoulder "I'm sorry cupcake, daddy's being mean yeah?" Nodding as you run your manicured fingers over his jawline,pressing your chest against his,making your tits more visible as you smile softly- a tragic contrast to your action.

꒦꒷︶°꒷︶°︶₊˚ʚɞ˚₊︶°︶꒦˚︶꒷꒦

As you sit prettily in the golf cart,sipping at your drink while watching rafe play with his friends,you can't help but feel lonely,so you decide to approach as he stands a few feet behind the others. "rayray?"

Turning around almost immediately Rafe's expression softens a bit before turning hard. "What are you doing here,told you to sit in the cart" "Yeah... I know,but I missed you" Emphasizing your words you run a hand over his chest,playing with the button of his slacks.

"Missed me huh?" Looking over his shoulder he shouts a quick "Little lady is feeling sick!" Before dragging you over the Golf cart and driving over a more secluded area of the field,covered by trees and bushes.

"Since you've been missing me sooo much,might as well show it. C'mon get on your knees" Taking one last look around you move to your knees on the moist grass,quickly unbuckling his belt as you pull down his pants and boxer just as much needed. Wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft you kiss the vein that runs on the underside of it, resulting in a harsh tug of your hair. "Don't fucking tease me."

Wrapping your lips around his tip before slowly moving down,twisting your hand around what you couldn't fit "Deeper...I've trained you better than this,kid" Rafe mumble from above you,shoving your head down until you gag harshly,tears already pooling at your lash line. "Yeah,there you go...nice and warm for me." Looking up through your clamped wispy lashes you start to move your head again,twirling your tongue around his length like a popsicle as Rafe groans from above you "Got myself the best girl,right? Sucking my dick like this where everyone can pass by"

Nodding as best as you can,you pull off him with a loud "pop". "Wanna make you feel good,daddy." Smiling to himself, Rafe wipes at your saliva coated lower lip before bringing your mouth back on him with a satisfied moan,brushing some strand of hair that have fallen over your face away. "Fuck,keep doing that and I'm gonna cum. You want daddy to cum in your mouth? Yeah,you do."

Meeting you midway as he thrust into your mouth,giving you no time to react or even understand. "shit- 'm cumming" As his rhythm gets sloppier,you suck around his tip holding onto his thigh as you feel a milky substance flood your mouth. Breathing loudly he pulls you away from him as he smirks "Show me your tongue,angel" showcasing your tongue with a proud smile you look up at him in search of praise. "good girl,what do we say now?" "thank you daddy!"

[acid-ixx]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Reader shows just a tiny amount of happiness to any one of the batfam, and the next thing you know they try their best to make Reader to do it again.

Example:

Dick:Makes a silly joke

Reader: Actually smiles and laughs at it

Dick: gloats about it to the fam

The BatFam: practically on all fours chasing after Reader to try and make them laugh

Don’t stress out with your writings (btw love your ‘again & again’ series❤️)

Take your time and don’t forget to drink water🫶🫶🫶

laughter is the best medicine

ft. yan! dick grayson, jason todd, and damian wayne

— masterlist !

more beneath the cut ! fluff ? with a mix of yandereness is my thing hehe. i love this ask sm <3 you guys are being fed well today !!!

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

ugh they're the definition of giving someone an inch and they'll be taking a mile. it would especially be annoying if it were dick on the receiving end of the line. but even if he'd be the one you'd take most precaution to, don't underestimate just how much your opinion holds the most value in the family. so they'll most definitely gloat about their achievement of making you smile or hell, even leaning against their shoulder willingly calls for a celebration.

trust me when i say that living in a stuffy manor already sucks, and they don't exactly like seeing you sulk and merely rot in your bed all day. so like any loving family would do, they'll try their damn best to at least see a quirk of your mouth or that faint glimmer in your that dick oh-so enchantingly talk about.

so it comes to them in the form of a surprise that one day, when your oldest brother accidentally trips over one of your expensive novelty ballpen, instead of nearly shouting at him for breaking one of your favorites, it was the "oomph!" sound his throat makes and his wide eyes when his ass directly landed on the floor that makes you crack into small giggles.

if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, dick would've crossed out your laughter as a hallucination, a product of imagination, something entirely impossible to produce, but no.

he had proven himself wrong.

once he turns back at you, he sees the crinkle of your eyes and your palm trying to cover your shit eating grin. the plump of your cheeks are so accentuated that he forgets the initial embarrassment he feels in the first place, replaced with awe at just how artfully captivating his sibling looks; sitting by

it's like a painting, he wishes it was. he wishes tim would be quick enough to capture the succession of your smiles in the live camera feed.

all because he couldn't believe it. couldn't believe that his baby bird is laughing. they're laughing and they look so mirthful and full of life when doing so.

yes, you're laughing at him, at his stupidity for being unable to detect a mere ballpen despite being trained to locate every known obstacle in a field.

but fuck, he was already raised at a circus to fulfill the role of an acrobat who entertains the crowd. what more could it be if that means he could play the role of a clown for you, his baby bird worth more than a thousand lives, whose laughter is equivalent to the immense euphoria that is filling his entire being?

give him an inch and he'll take an entire mile.

the next day, you'd be greeted with... a lot of peculiar instances within your family. all of which you would laugh at because it's not typical that your family displays mistakes, and you feel a bit better about yourself when their imperfections seem to seep out of their being— or maybe it's just your thoughts eating you up again, because is it just you or did jason, tim, and even damian, manage to at least trigger a reaction out of you?

tim would accidentally end up drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth. his cringing expression, choked gargling and immense spitting is enough to guarantee a light chuckle from your seated form as you ate your cereal in peace, watching him as he tries to rid of the bitter taste on his tongue. although, bitter as it may, the sweetness and the aching of his tooth overpowers the regret he fills for gulping an entire bottle of orange juice down his throat.

he's so glad that he had set up multiple cameras and recorders at different angles prior to your time spent with him because he just couldn't stop watching your reaction in loop whilst he tried to continue his investigations within gotham's latest crime news. yet no matter how hard he attempts to control himself, his eyes couldn't stop looming over to your form, finding your reaction too incredibly cute to be ignored. yeah, he'll do his duties later. for now, he just needs to... screenshot every single frame of your expressions.

jason isn't much of a joker but when reading you one of your favorite stories, he had managed to mispronounce one of the words so badly that it ruined the narrative of the classical book he was voice acting for you. it was a stupid thing to laugh at, but for a guy like jason, who was an english nerd in his very prime, it would be hilarious— especially when his gothamite accent seeps into his vocabulary; which is very unbefitting for the voice of a character who was a princess that loves to wear frilly, pink dresses.

imagine a man, with a growl that vibrates through his skull, and muscles that bulge through his shirt, voices a princess of all people! his high pitched register for the character was already grating to your ears, but the sudden shift from an airy and girlish to deep and gruff with an added effect of a voice crack at the word "cake" was enough to let you burst out into laughs, your giggles echoing through the comfortable silence of the manor's library. for the first time in a while, you let jason wrap his arms around your shoulder, asking for your input about his tremendous acting skills.

jason never had many moments to cherish within the manor, preferring to stay over and outside of bruce's radar, but god does he love going through the batcave's live feed just to zoom in on your expressions, the grin on your face heavily reminds him of himself, back when he was the oblivious robin with no idea of what was coming to him. yet only now, he swears to protect your smile from never faltering.

damian takes his artistry skills seriously, constantly making a show of bragging to you whenever he has the opportunity to. but this time, he was incredibly pissed at drake for accidentally squeezing all the paint from the tube of oil paints he had stored by the drawers, and it was a shade closest to your skin tone, too; he meant to use that tube of paint for his next portrait of you. so like the petty child he is, damian sets on an hour long routine of drawing tim with monstrous features that screams the opposite of what he sports.

that means he had drawn multiple variants of tim with a hideous, actual bowl cut one. no seriously, his hair was a bowl and the strands that peeked out of it were spaghetti strands. in another drawing, his red robin outfit consists of plucked feathers and an elongated beak for its mask, what seems to be the pocket for the eyes now replaced with cat-like slits that makes the vigilantes expression looker idiotic and downright stupid. yet it felt therapeutic for damian to draw that his brother with what he felt was enough revenge to exact upon drake. that scum deserved a horrendously made portrait of him.

what he didn't expect was that you had stumbled upon his atelier, wanting to cure your boredom by painting a scenery when all of a sudden you had to drop all your equipment from your hands because... what the fuck was damian painting...? why is tim crawling across the floor in one of the portraits...? it takes a second or two for you to register the drawing's very detailed portrayal of a literal bowl cut, your laughter bursting out of the seams because no fucking way did damian actually draw something so hilarious and unserious. if you were anybody else, damian would've kicked your shins so violently you would've required a visit to the hospital. but because it's you... he chooses to sulk in the corner with puffed cheeks and burning ears as you approach the painting with said curiosity of a child and a laughter you can't stifle so easily.

at least it got you to stay in the same room as him for about an hour, with you giving your youngest brother more ideas to make the drawings even more unsettling than they already were, to which damian takes your tips to heart.

after you had eagerly (and shyly) showed the entire family you and damian's shared creation of a monstrosity, tim swears he'll never squeeze a tube of damian's paint anymore.

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 5

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(special thanks to @bucket-of-cheese for this episode cover art!, as well as @karkatwaddles @chip-the-dip @scrambledlikeeggs @kairamuwu with editing)

---

Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

Read below↓

Or AO3

Time passes, though horribly slower in the desert heat.

Grian and Scar both spend their morning groggy and aching from the phantom fight the previous evening. Not to mention the little rest they were able to get during the relatively short night that this planet provides.

Now that they feel rested enough, Grian shoots up high above the canyon with a few strong beats of his wings. Scar watches him from the ground as he makes a few circles in the sky before he dives down back to join him. With a greater bearing on his surroundings, thanks to the high vantage point, Grian picks a direction that seems most prominent to head towards. He returns grumbling about how he could see something in the distance, but it looked like nothing more than a bunch of junk to him. Not much of the optimist it seems, but Scar prides himself on being able to make the most of any situation. He pats Grian's back, giving a small speech about how 'that a bunch of junk was better than nothing after all'. Grian blinks slowly, reluctantly agreeing. They have a destination now!

Grian consistently finds himself needing to catch up with Scar, occasionally mumbling about how the ground is too flat and something about bird feet. It’s obvious by how he’s fidgeting that he’d rather be flying, even though that option means either leaving Scar behind or carrying him there. And as much as Scar wants to ask, he’s also scared he might lose an eye as a result.

He leaves the slightly personal question unasked, the conversation instead being filled with Grian complaining about walking. He hesitates when their passage opens up to the blaring, exposed sun. Holding his hand up to shield himself from the harsh light, he scrunches his face, occasionally wincing when his hot metal limbs hit his skin with his heavy, tired steps.

Scar himself isn’t having much of a fun time either. The leg braces he uses aren’t meant to be put under a lot of strain for such a long time. It’s only a matter of time before they might snap. The grains of sand grating against them are probably hastening the unit's deterioration. He'll have to use Grian as support if they do break.. and go through the laborious task of requesting a new pair from the Vindicators.

Occasionally they have to take a break, with Scar trying to brush as much dust and sand from the joints of the braces, doing the most he can to slow down any decay it might have caused them. On the other hand, Grian uses the opportunity to rest, immediately slumping against the nearest wall and fanning himself with his tail.

Scar has long since taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist, relieved by the fact he'd been wearing a tank top underneath. The lack of sleeves feels like a world of difference in the heat, not that he wouldn't take it off completely if need be, despite his company. Every so often, he catches Grian's lingering looks when he thinks Scar isn't watching, his expression weirdly guarded and lost in thought. One time, when he notices he’s being examined, Scar flexes jokingly in response, receiving a roll of the eyes and quiet mutterings about indecency.

Despite how hot it is and how much his company seems to fidget and scratch at the uncomfortable feathers underneath, Grian seems insistent on keeping his layers on.

Finally, they reenter the shade, and the winged man groans, flinging around his stiff arms.

”What's wrong?” Scar turns around, watching as the strange man shakes out his feathers. Sand rains down as he does as if the sunlight has been caking him in the sand.

"I lost my helmet and, therefore, my visor. It sucks."

“Sucks how?"

"The light hurts my eyes." Grian rubs at his temples, scrunching his eyes closed.

Scar tilts his head in response, confused. It’s bright, not enough to be painful yet, but it’s clearly bothering Grian more somehow.

When he’s met with a lack of a retort, Grian glances up at Scar, quickly taking note of his confused expression. He rolls his eyes like he knows what Scar is thinking.

"I'm a glare," he says so simply, answering the unspoken question.

"Not… glare-leaning? Or an avian?" Scar, not so subtly, looks Grian up and down, the other tensing uncomfortably with a weird look to match.

"No."

"But…" Scar trails off, not quite being sure how to ask respectfully.

"I have wings?" Grian finishes for him, like he’s heard it all before. Tucking his wings behind his back on reflex, he takes in a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for a speech.

A series of looks flash across his face. Scar waits patiently, only for Grian to breathe out a quiet "Yeah," with no further elaboration.

"Glares can have wings?"

"This one can. It's complicated." Grian walks past Scar, losing eye contact deliberately as he strolls ahead. He doesn’t appear upset at least, bored is the closest to how Scar could describe it.

"But… How?" Scar asks cautiously, against his better judgment.

"Family curse from hitting a magical bird with a ship centuries ago." Grian holds his hands out, imitating piloting, before hitting his hands together with a metal clank. "BAM! Wings for all your firstborns."

"Wait, really?" Scar exclaims. Genuinely believing Grian’s story. He catches up to him with a quick jog, looking to the glare in an attempt to get a read of his face only to be met with a smirk. Oh.

"Nah-" Grian chuckles to himself, patting Scar on the shoulder.

Scar watches as he continues up ahead, looking at the feathered tail with a new perspective. A glare. That explains why his feathers look so real — they’re a feature all Glares possess to varying degrees – and his deep inky eyes that never seem to shrink, even in the harsh light. Maybe the wings are just artificial add-ons, but that doesn’t feel right — they’re far too realistic and fluid. He shakes the thought out of his head. It probably isn’t polite to dwell on it, the subject is obviously something Grian doesn’t want to talk about.

But no, Scar isn’t about to be done with this conversation completely.

"Prove you’re a glare, then."

Grian, who had walked slightly ahead, stops and turns around to give Scar an almost offended look before he shrugs, replacing it with an amused, yet tired one.

“Sure,” he says with a resigned sigh.

Without warning, everything in Scar’s sight goes dark, like an all-encompassing shadow out of nowhere, the murky nothingness only just reaching his toes. He sticks his hands out in front of him, looking at them as they become outlined by a dark void.

He knows what this is. Most glares possess this skill, it’s the baseline ability tied to their magic. ‘Darkness’ he thinks he remembers it being called. Scar has never experienced it first hand though, and he can’t help but ogle the slightly frightening power.

“Whoah-”

As quickly as it appeared, the gloom flees, leaving him with the less-than-friendly, hot reflective sands.

Grian looks at him curiously, his arms crossed.

“Okay, so believe me now?”

Scar smiles, nodding vigorously.

“That was sooo cool!!”

Grian very hesitantly smiles back, turning away before Scar can process it completely.

Despite his wary demeanour, he secretly revels in the reaction, not quite being able to help but grin to himself.

“Can you do illusion magic too?” Scar asks, making Grian's steps hesitate for just a second, the mood in the air changing quickly. His back is still facing Scar, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing the slight shudder in Grian’s shoulders, and the subtle flicks of his feathers.

“…No,” is all he says in slow response… too slowly.

Ah, so another sour subject, it feels like Scar is collecting them all. As much as he wants to pry, he feels like he has asked enough.

There’s a lapse in their conversation as Scar's eyes wander. They both continue walking, albeit slowly, probably due to Grian's obvious intent to savour the shade when passing through it.

"If the sun's bothering you that much, why don't you just do the darkness thing to yourself?" Scar inquires, filling the silence.

"That's not how it works. It's only a perception, I don't actually switch off the sun," Grian replies, his voice back with some light, the previous question forgotten.

"Oh."

"And trust me, oh how I want to switch off this sun." He holds his long claws up to the sky, imitating crushing the light that peeks from the shade touching the tips of his claws.

“I'll still get the painful headache even if I make everything dark for me.”

Scar glances down to his waist, where his own helmet has been clipped. He once again catches up to Grian, leg braces creaking slightly.

"… I could give you my helmet." He hands it to him.

Grian looks down at the poor thing with a gentle look on his face.

"It's got a huge crack in it, so it's pretty much useless. Sorry about that, by the way." He flicks a guilty look at Scar before settling back into stride ahead of him.

"I wouldn't call it useless-'' Scar looks down at it with a frown. He hopes he can repair it, it’s dear to him.

"Even if it wasn't, I would never put that thing on."

"What’s wrong with the cat ears?" Scar questions, a smile evident in his voice. He knows well that it isn’t his cute accessories that’s deterring Grian from putting the helmet on, he just thinks it’s amusing to indicate so.

He holds up the helmet up in front of Grian, closing one eye and envisioning him wearing it with a smirk.

Grian squawks out a laugh and pushes the helmet aside, "Hah. Ironically, I don’t have a problem with that, though I wouldn’t break the dress code just to put cat ears on a helmet."

"You know about the codes?"

"Sorta. I mean, I've unfortunately become very familiar with them – know your enemy or whatever."

"You really don't like vindicators, then," Scar says, with no malice in his voice. He’s more curious than anything.

"I feel like that much should be obvious."

Scar hops ahead of Grian, stepping slightly in front of him so that Grian has no choice but to look at him. "Well, I'm okay, right?" Scar smiles tilting his head.

He watches the bird’s gaze shift from the dust on Scar’s boots up to meet his eye, a brow raised.

And with a genuine smile and quiet laugh, Grian answers "Yeah, you're alright".

—

"Be careful they might be dangerous."

While navigating through a particularly maze-like part of the ravine. Grian had stopped abruptly, and grabbed Scar by the shirt mid-conversation, pulling him around a corner.

Scar attempted to ask what was wrong only for Grian to shush him, hissing about how he’d seen two figures deeper in.

Wiggling slightly out of Grian's hold, Scar popped his head around briefly, catching a glance at their new company.

There were, in fact, two figures who sat up against a stony wall as the passage opened up, connecting to another, larger passage. Scar and Grian had an advantage, as the corner shielded them from view. One figure had their back to them, their large silhouette obscuring the other figure from view. The only indication there was even two, being the distinct overlap of a conversation that could barely be heard from where Grian and Scar were hidden.

And that brings them to the present, with Scar tapping his chin, debating different ideas of how to approach them. Grian listens as he impatiently claws at the ground, grumbling at each suggestion that leaves the other's mouth.

There’s a quiet shift in the sand to Scar's side and he turns to watch as Grian shifts closer to him, his shoulders hunched slightly and wings puffed up.

Scar finds himself suppressing the urge to compare him to a pinecone.

"Why would they be dangerous?" Scar asks, tilting his head slightly. Confused about the other's comment.

Grian splutters, mouth working but not making noises aside from baffled squeaks before he eventually coughs.

"… I mean, I was a stranger a mere hours ago and I had a blade to your heart, dude." His voice pitches up at the end, causing him to flinch when it echoes slightly against the walls. He ducks as if that would stop the sound, scooting closer to Scar, further from the stranger's direction.

"….Well, you're not doing that right now." Scar smiles a wide grin, hushing his voice pointedly before shrugging.

Grian just stares at him, almost as if testing Scar’s smile, before he rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"… Can't argue with that logic."

Scar's smile grows slowly, bright and excited at Grian's agreement. He watches all of Grian's feathers stand up even more somehow, catching on to Scar's enthusiasm.

“Don't-”

"Glad you trust me!" Scar beams.

"I wouldn't go that far, trust is a strong word," Grian pulls a dubious look before grumbling and looking away. He shakes his shoulders as if trying to suppress the stress that’s putting him and his feathers on edge.

“I honestly don't think it's a good idea to even approach them– People are almost always bad news in these situations. We could just work our way around them…” he trails off mumbling to himself.

“But that's no fun!” Scar hums lightly, nudging the bird out of his strategizing. “Besides, they could help us!”

Grian doesn’t reply, just huffs with a scowl that squishes his face comically.

Scar absently scratches at his chin before he leans up against the wall pressing his forearm high above Grian, leaning over, the other doing a double take, clearly taken back by how much Scar is leaning over into his space. He'll have to put on his charm to try and convince the bird, his most effective tactic.

"You're nervous but I can assure you this, I can gain any advantage in a situation, just by talking" He gives him a cheesy lopsided grin.

"What- do you possess the ability to talk someone to death? Boredom? Into sleep, perhaps?" Grian replies in the most mocking and deadpan tone, meeting his energy.

"All of the above!!! Depending on the weather of course," He says, leaning in slightly with a whisper before bouncing back to that quietish tone of his, "and then I steal their stuff!!" Scar grins with more eagerness than Grian has seen in quite some time, causing the glare to let out a slight wheeze of laughter, raising an incredulous brow.

"Wow, you're really starting to sound more like a criminal." He veers his head to the side, grinning widely up at Scar, and bearing his sharp teeth.

Scar retracts his arm from the wall, an unsure look spoiling his smile. He can’t help darting his eyes to the side, almost taken aback by the former statement. "I mean … not if they're the bad guy, right?"

“That's a very rudimentary way of thinking.” Grian's grin falters slightly, that cold look flickering over him briefly, as his eyes narrow. He shakes away whatever thought he had, bringing the prior conversation back.

“Fine, you do you're talking thing then,” the bird swats at the air absently.

“And you'll be my hype man?” Scar bounces on his toes excitedly.

Grian gives too blank of an expression before pushing up his shoulders. “I'll do something,”

“AHA! Be amazed, small friend! At my infectious likeableness,” Scar stands up straighter and puffs out his chest, before moving to turn around the corner between them and the strangers only for sharp claws to gently grab his arm.

“Wait-”

“Oh oh! W-what?” Scar looks around shocked, but nothing is amiss, just the surprisingly warm touch of metal talons.

“You're intending to make a good impression, right?”

Scar splutters awkwardly as Grian doesn’t give him time to answer the obvious question.

“My advice? I'd hide that you're a Vindicator."

“…why?”

“Ah–” Grian awkwardly chuckles, retracting his grip and scratching at his head. “I thought I’d already established that the general public isn't too fond–” he loosely gestures Scar up and down.

Scar raises a brow, leaning on his hip and looking down at the bird. “Really? Are you the general public?” He smirks at his own witty remark.

“Just take my word for it, this definitely isn't Spawn, and I bet you haven't even travelled off planet before. You have that sparkly dumb innocent look in your eyes–”

Scar gasps and clutches his hand to his chest in false offence.

“I’m just saying, if you wanna do the whole friendly talking thing, I'd recommend not immediately making it known that you're a Vindicator.” Grian huffs.

Scar looks down dumbly at the bright blue jacket tied around his waist. Grian follows his line of sight and muffles a laugh, noticing Scar's mild panic at the glaring obvious beacon of his faction, taunting him along with a bright stitched ‘V’ clearly visible even with it tied at his waist.

“Just– turn it inside out or something–”

“Oh! Smart!” Scar claps his hands, wincing as the noise echoed against the walls. Grian glares at him.

He fumbles with the jacket, taking it off and turning it inside out before tying it back around his waist, and nodding with satisfaction. He looks back towards Grian, the glare watching him slightly amused. “Now, Bird friend, watch as I charm these members of the ‘general public’ with my insatiable charisma!”

“… You already said that. There's only so much ‘impressed’ I can hand out, I'm afraid.”

Scar ignores him as he brushes off as much dust as he can to look somewhat presentable. He leans forward with a step but stops as quickly as he started when his company doesn't make a move with him.

“You're not… coming with??”

“I am, I just want to linger back, for safety reasons– you know?” Grian still stands with his arms crossed but his face has morphed into something far more neutral, clawed feet firmly digging into their place in the sand.

“Oh! Smart!” Scar replies. He continues, but not before catching the faint flicker of a smile from his companion.

Scar confidently marches towards the strangers, too distracted by his plan to notice the quiet whoosh of feathers behind him.

“Why, hello there!”

“EEEEK!”

“OH MY GOSH–” both of the strangers scream at Scar, frantically scrambling back in the sand up to a stand.

The shorter one gawks at Scar, their left arm held stiffly as their right tugs on the other's sleeve pulling them both back further. They push themselves in front in an act that almost could have been intimidating if the other wasn't practically two times their size.

Now, up close, Scar takes the two in. The shorter one appears to be a blazeborn, fuzzy and yellow with clothes that looked like they weren't originally suited for the heat, evident by the thick winter coat tied around their waist, mirroring Scar’s, and the torn-off sleeves of their shirt. The other stands several heads taller, also strangely cradling their right arm. They’re far less identifiable, but the several neat feathers that frame their face and shoulders definitely imply that they’re probably at least glare adjacent, even with their height. They’re wearing what can be described as cowboy attire, sans a hat, and look far more in place in this setting.

“Oh, you're just a guy…” the taller one eventually speaks out after their initial panic.

“Yup, just a guy!” Scar stands up straighter, suppressing a wince as his leg braces squeak obnoxiously. “Sorry to cause a fright,” he smiles apologetically.

The two of them glance at each other, then back to Scar with bewildered expressions.

“I think I might be lost! And maybe you are too? We were wondering if you could help”.

“We?” One of them asks.

“OH! Well! I'm Scar and this here is my lackey.” He turns to look for Grian only to be met with the empty, dusty ground and no bird in sight.

“They're …not here?”

“Who-” Scar hears one of them ask. He doesn’t even have time to turn to identify who before a flurry of feathers swoops down and blocks his view.

The two figures scream for a second time as the taller one is pushed roughly aside by brown wings, falling clumsy in the sand and landing in a way that causes them to choke out a yelp.

“OW OW OW, I CAN'T SEE!” They sit up quickly with one arm hanging loosely over their chest, the other grasping and rubbing at their face and eyes in confusion. They continue to yell in panic, “WHAT HAPPENED I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING-”

“Drop whatever weapons you have,” Grian turns, holding the blaze in his grasp. He holds his wings wrapped around them, keeping their arms pinned. He uses one of his clawed hands to cover their mouth, the other holding a blue, glowing blade to their neck.

“What- what happened to the talking plan?” Scar sways on his feet. Too much is happening in such a brief moment, and all his plans for conversations are useless, blown to the wind.

“Too slow,” Grian replies bluntly.

The figure in Grian’s grasp desperately tries to muster out a muffled scream against Grian's hand, only causing the bird to tighten his hold and sword to their neck.

Scar feels lost. He looks to the other who is still on the ground, using one hand to touch the sand.

“I can't see!- It's all dark- Tango?!-”

The pure distress in their voices, mixed with the muffled yelping of the other, makes Scar falter, his mind short-circuiting in the chaos. He weirdly feels scared, that same fear of Grian and his cold look is all too familiar to barely a day ago. A fear that he apparently didn't realise still has a frightful hold on him, his shoulder pulsing passively with pain on cue with the memory.

Despite the fear, he can’t help but step forward, reaching out to diffuse the situation.

Strangely enough, Grian flinches back. He stares up at Scar like he had completely forgotten he was there, his confused look immediately being chased away as the trapped stranger shifts in his hold. His expression quickly returning to an unreadable one.

“Let them talk… maybe? Please?” Scar asks slowly. Grian looks up at him with those deep dark eyes, cold and empty before a nearly embarrassed look crosses his face. He lowers the hand that had held the stranger's mouth, but the blade, however, is still pinned to their throat.

Immediately the blaze gasps and begins yelling “Please we're injured, we mean no harm- please-”

“…. Huh,” Grian squeezes tighter subconsciously, as they kick in his grasp.

“Our arms- OW! QUIT IT- LET GO!”

They shove against Grian, his grip loosening just enough for them to push out as he moves his blade. All of a sudden the bird looks incredibly guilty.

“What the hell man!” The shorter man scrambles to their partner's side, leaning down and giving them their arm to grab onto. They keep their eyes on Grian, scowling as the other weakly uses their hold to stand up.

In an almost too cheery voice for the situation, the taller one speaks, “I can see again! What was that?”

Their gaze immediately lands on Grian, who tenses under it.

“You’re a bird?” They mutter dumbly after rubbing their eyes and squinting at him.

Grian steps back, still holding his weapon by his side. He gives the tall man a look up and down his expression twisting into something uncomfortable.

“Not one of yours,” he mumbles back.

“Sorry, sorry?” the taller coughs, completely confused, but Grian ignores them.

“You're hurt, both of you?” Grian hums, pointing the end of his sword in their direction as he makes a move to stand by Scar's side, who stands, silently wringing his hands, considering his next steps.

They both nod, fear and anger plain on their faces, each holding an arm tightly to their chests.

A quiet sort of relief washes over Grian as he puts away his sword. His expression morphing into amusement, with a tinge of sheepishness.

“Wow, that's inconvenient! You don't pose much of a threat then, huh?” He tries to joke and smile, the expression faulting only when their company makes no indication of finding that comment funny, at all.

Scar shifts awkwardly to his side, considering many different options on what to do next moves through his head before he steps in front of Grian, a goofy grin being plastered across his lips.

“So… maybe we should start over?”

“You think?” The blaze spits, their shimmering flame-like hair sparking in reaction.

“We were only taking precautions, there are dangerous people in this big universe, you know!” Scar tries to lessen the anger with that same cheesy grin.

“I'd argue, you're one of them! Or at least they are,” They point towards the bird, who does nothing but look away, crossing his arms.

“Just a common misunderstanding, we apologise. Let me reintroduce myself-” Scar tries to step forward with a handshake, but both of them move away from him pointedly. Instead, he retreats to Grian’s side, putting his hands up defensively, giving them more space to feel safe.

“Well, I'm Scar! Like I- already mentioned-” he nervously chuckles the last bit, then gestures to the glare. “-and this is Grian”

“Ah, so we're giving them our names- cool,” the other grumbles, his back practically turned to them, appearing like he’s given up on the exchange.

A tense atmosphere falls heavily on the four as awkward silence fills the air. Scar's eyes glance to the taller of the duo, who meets his gaze with a similar, nervous expression, unlike the blazeborn who stands next to them, festering with an anger that seems to almost crackle off of them in flames.

The tall one eventually finds the courage to speak, unsure and hesitant, without the anger and murderous look that their companion seems to have.

"Well, I'm Jimmy! And this is Tango!" Jimmy speaks with a similar cheer and charisma to Scar.

"Yup," the blaze, Tango, snaps with a slight snarl on his lips. His injured arm tightly held against his body, crossing over his chest as he stares daggers in the direction of Scar and Grian. There’s another pause of quiet that only causes the air to grow more uneasy, so thick with awkwardness that it can be cut with a knife. Tango and Grian stand their ground while Jimmy begins to kick at the sand absent-mindedly and an awkward cough escapes from Scar.

The former can't help but wring his hands once again, standing unsure in the moment before he decides to speak once again, "You seem tense,"

"YOU THINK?" Tango barks out, that snarl only growing angrier as he drops his hand to his side and balls it into raging fists.

Jimmy quickly tries to hop to some sort of defence, "We haven't seen anybody yet- we didn't really expect anyone to-" he’s cut off by Tango's eyes whipping over to look at him, the blazeborn pointing a finger to his neck,

"A KNIFE. TO MY THROAT." He speaks loud and clear making it obvious, if anyone can't tell, why he’s angry.

At that, Grian turns to the conversation, his tail flicking behind him. “Ah- Well, I didn't break your skin and, you know, I apologised.”

“Actually, you haven’t-” Jimmy points out, frowning.

“Oh… sorry?” Grian shrugs.

“I already dislike you-”

He ignores Jimmy turning to Scar with a neutral expression, “Right, Scar, ready to go?“

“What?”

“YOU'RE GOING TO JUST LEAVE US?” Jimmy shouts whilst Tango just looks unsurprised.

“Well, you're both injured so-” Grian says nonchalantly, not bothering to finish his sentence like it’s obvious.

“THAT'S CRIMINAL-” Jimmy squawkes.

Grian doesn’t reply, instead, lightly reaching for Scar, a weird sort of hesitance to his grasp, looking as if he’s going to grab Scar's arm, only to move to pull at his shirt. Scar doesn't move.

“We could- help them?”

Grian looks at him with a troubled look but doesn't say anything in response.

“You know?” He, in fact, makes no indication of knowing. “We have medical supplies, remember?”

Tango's eyebrow shoots up, his angry scowl morphing into intrigue. “Healing?”

“SCAR- Cool now they know our names and our resources-” the bird grumbles, Eying the two with a cold glare. He crunches up his nose, then looks back to Scar. “We're not giving them anything for free.”

“…Well I mean, we could always offer a trade.” Scar tries to smile, trying his best to appeal to Grian with a warm grin.

Grian takes in a deep breath, contemplating for a couple of seconds before he points at the strangers and clicks his tongue. “What do you two have to offer?”

“Do you have an ender chest?” Scar pipes in quickly.

“…No.”

“We don't really have anything-”

Grian hums in acknowledgement then smirks at Scar. “There you go, shall we leave then-”

Tango interrupts quickly as the winged man once again tries to pull Scar away. “We have some knowledge! You said you’re lost! I know some things to help! About this game-”

“Game?” Scar repeats.

“No thank you-” Grian now switches from pulling at Scar to pushing him.

“But aren't you curious? We have theories!”

“All good, we have our own plans, thank you.” He huffs in an effort to try and move Scar, but for once Scar has an advantage over him in height and strength. He barely moves.

“Okay! Deal!” Scar finally replies.

“SCAR!” Grian stops pushing Scar, instead staring at him like an angry feathered hedgehog. It takes all of Scar’s willpower not to laugh at him.

“We'll only tell you anything once you heal us,” Tango adds.

“Hah! As if that wasn't already a bad deal-” Grian mumbles mostly to himself.

“-What about during?”

“Okay, during.” Tango agrees to Scar.

Grian finally acknowledges the blaze, as he holds a hand to his chest and baps at Scar with the other. He scowles between them all. “Hey, hey. I'm the one with the supplies, you should be negotiating with me-”

He cuts himself off at the look Scar gives him. His lips press into a tight frown as he crosses his arms and taps his claws, the processing of his thoughts buried deep in his brow.

Scar tilts his head at him slightly.

“Ugh fine,” Grian finally relents, before huffing off to the side and making an upset display of sitting down and disrupting the dusty sand with a flap of his wings, the others coughing slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat. Let me heal your stupid bones,” he finally spits when the others don’t make any motion, prompting the pair to finally move.

“Oh, it's really rich of you to think I'd let you get anywhere near to my arm again-” Tango replies, unamused.

“Well you're going to just have to deal with it,” Grian replies to Tango with a sardonic grin, “These are my supplies and I'd like to keep some autonomy in this situation.”

“If it makes you feel any better he healed me pretty well,” Scar chimes in, pulling his tank top aside, to show off the slightly bloody gauze. Tango scrutinises the wound, hissing sympathetically, looking towards Grian who’s trying and failing to look not guilty.

“… I suppose.” Jimmy hums, next to Tango.

Both he and Tango awkwardly shuffle towards the winged man, within arms reach of each other, they sit down in unison, Tango’s tail hooking onto Jimmy's ankle.

“You! Beanpole! Give me your arm” Grian moves closer, sitting up on his knees.

“Me?” Jimmy replies confused.

“Yes you, I don't see any actual bean poles around here do you? I'm talking to your daft mug.”

“You don't have to insult me so much, man-” Jimmy grumbles as he complies, as Grian makes a start on assessing his injuries.

There’s a couple of minutes of uncomfortable quiet, occasionally interrupted by grumbles and yelps. Scar stands, watching his company. He looks towards Tango, who it keeping a calculated watch on what Grian is doing.

“You didn't expect to be here…” Scar slowly sits in front of Tango. His eyes bright with intrigue.

Tango just turns to look at him confused. “What?”

“Those clothes-” Scar points at the thick coat, cushioning the blaze as he sits crossed-legged.

“Oh! OH, that's actually pretty intuitive.” He smiles at Scar and scoots closer indicating for him to listen.

“Yeah I'm not from here, I was working on a pretty cold planet, before …uh.”

“Waking up with no memories of how you got here?” Scar finishes, beaming.

Tango leans back, his grin faltering slightly. “…Yeah.”

“How'd you know that!?” Jimmy asks from behind them, apparently having been listening in.

“We're the same! Actually! We don't remember at all how we got here.”

“Even him?” Tango gestures coldly over his shoulders, not even looking in Grian's direction.

“Even him!”

“Interesting,” Tango appears to drift into his thoughts before Grian coughs loudly.

“Alright then, if you want me to do this, well, you better start to tell your story.”

Tango shoots him an angry look, then dusts off his trousers before sitting up straight, getting comfortable. He looks at Scar, coughs, and smiles.

“Well, first you gotta know some of my history.”

Scar watches Grian roll his eyes from over Tango's shoulder.

“I worked as… hmmm sorta freelance. I'm an architect, redstoner- weird lil’ guy with a nac for bizarre contraptions. I take all and any kind of jobs I can find across the universe, a travelling mechanic if you will,” Tango grins, pleased. “I'm actually- saving up so I can own a hermit settlement, start a small self-sustaining industry, build all kinds of wacky farms! Just work for me, you know?”

He pauses, waiting for a response only to be met with puzzled looks.

“Uhhh that's beside the point. What I’m getting at is that owning the land to make a hermit settlement is a lot of money and prep. And as it goes, the jobs that pay the most tend to be the most…. questionable. I like to believe I'm a good judge of character when it comes to my clients, I know when the people who are giving me a tempting offer are bad news, and I usually decline. I'm not about putting myself in trouble for a pretty price.”

Tango inhales, his thumb worrying over his knuckle, and continues.

“But there was this one job- These very mysterious individuals offered me a job to create a game! It honestly was a very tempting offer, because they were giving me so much free range with what I built. The only requirement was that any number of people could enter the game and there could only be one winner. And they offered me a lot of money for it.”

Scar clocks Grian making a small sneer.

“So I took it, I took the deal and started designing my game. I uhhh- I sort of made, think like… dungeon crawler type deal.”

“Wait but you said you didn't make dungeons,” Jimmy interrupts.

“Going to be honest, I didn't expect you to hit that nail on the head.” Tango turns to Jimmy, giving him a small smile, before patting him gently on his shoulder. “Pretty impressive.”

Jimmy splutters, his expressions flip flopping between being offended and proud.

“Anyway… as I was saying, the more I worked for them, the more I started to suspect a few things. They kept insisting on things in my design to be more…”

He swirled his hand around “Let's say lethal. And that was before I started noticing how much resources and wealth my employer owned. They kept giving me things with ease, I started even asking for stuff I knew was hard to find like enchantments and whatnot. And they didn't even sweat.”

He cuts himself off, a conflicted look shadowing his face.

“When I put my energy into a project, I put my whole heart in. This dungeon was my… my child! I’d been working on it for months! Almost years! I didn't like how they were twisting it. They kept taking away the things I included to make the game fair. And that was my last straw.”

“I ran, and I tried to take all the important endgame design prints with me. I couldn't let them use my work to hurt people in the gruesome ways that they so clearly wanted to do. And now I'm here.”

“…Oh, that's rough,” Scar replies.

Nodding Tango stares down at his lap, rubbing at the worn pads of his hands. He looks genuinely sad for a minute before he shakes that look away and carries on.

“Yeah, so what I'm saying is- I got to see enough of the kind of work these people were doing to notice a pattern.”

“The people I worked for were definitely Enders, and I believe they're probably pretty high up considering rather than taking planets and trading pearls, they were employing people to take their enemies and put them into ‘games' for their entertainment.”

“And I think we're in one of those games right now,”

Tango grins wildly, holding a finger up to emphasise his conclusion.

“WHOA, what really?”

“Ugh,” Grian grumbles.

“And if my assumption is correct, I think we've all wronged an Ender before, right?”

He shuffles so that all four of them were sat in a circle.

“I mean- me! Clearly, with leaving the job.” He points to himself and then to Jimmy. “You said something about Enders secretly operating in the town you were sheriffing.”

Grian’s gloomy expression immediately gets replaced with intrigue as he looks up from his lap for the first time during the conversation with Jimmy.

“You're a sheriff?” Scar asks.

“YES, I am for a matter of fact, from a small town on the Nether.” Jimmy smiles widely, adjusting his hair confidently.

“Now that's surprising…” Grian remarks to himself.

Jimmy either doesn't hear or ignores him as he continues. “Well it's more a self-proclaimed title, not much goes on in my town and I mostly just… give directions to the elderly and get bullied by local kids,”

“Nevermind.”

Jimmy shoots Grian a dirty look, the latter smirking back before he goes back to working on the supplies in his lap.

“But yes! Recently I tried to uncover a mystery and encountered Enders,”

“And that's the last thing you remember doing right?” Tango inquires.

“… Yeah, actually.”

He looks towards Scar “And you… what about you?”

“Oh.”

Everyone looks at Scar with intrigue. Grian has his head dipped down still, his gaze, though, points, staring straight at him.

Ah, right, not-a-Vindicator time.

“Well, I'm a mayor, as a matter of fact.”

Everyone looks at him like it was the last thing they expected him to say, including Grian.

Scar coughs, chasing off the nervous wobble in his voice and he sits up straight ready to prove his charm.

“For a pretty unknown-” Scar awkwardly trails off, not really familiar enough with space life for his own lie. “…hermit settlement! A beloved staple of the community, birds and children sing when I roam the streets.”

The others look at him speechless, he can feel them doubting him. Alright then, maybe he should learn to be more believable.

“The last thing I remember doing, actually, was chasing a criminal down an alley!” He settles on. He sees Grian go still. “It was epic and had glorious explosions and everything, a truly action-filled adventure-”

He stops when he feels Grian subtly thump him with his tail. Hiding the movement by sitting up, done with dressing Jimmy's wounds and moving on to Tango.

Tango ignores him, too interested in Scar’s story. “Was this criminal an Ender by chance?”

“Oh! Yes!” He very almost forgot that was what Tango was asking to begin with.

Tango sits up straighter with a look of triumph and excitement on his face.“That makes three out of four.”

“…Not a chance,” Grian says coldly.

Tango finally turns to him, Grian looking up whilst sorting out the supplies he has left.

“What?”

“I'm not telling you my story like we're all sat around a campfire-”

“We're trying to help, isn't that what you asked for?” Tango argues.

“This isn't helpful information, it's just a lot of assumptions and guesses.”

“Calculated guesses! And besides, what else could you possibly know about what's going on? Enlighten me,” Tango challenges him.

“I don't… but I also don't see how knowing all this even helps us in our current situation.”

Grian leans back from where he had been hunched over, closes his eyes, and flings his hand around in an almost smug way. “Yada yada, scary rich people put a bunch of losers into a death game. That doesn't help me whilst we're supposedly in one.”

“You find yourself in a lot of death games then?” Tango grins bitterly.

“I- '' Somehow that waveres Grian’s response briefly, he clears his throat before resuming. “I like information that helps. This doesn't- this doesn't fix a broken arm or get us any closer to escaping.”

“Well maybe it can- we can go ahead knowing that there's probably traps or trials set for us.” Scar says. The two look at Jimmy and Scar who had been quietly observing their conversation.

“Like the beeping!” Jimmy responds.

“Yeah-”

“OH, THE PHANTOMS!” Scar exclaims.

“Phantoms?”

Scar wiggles in the dust with delight. “Yeah! We encountered phantoms on our journey, which is a pretty odd place to find them,”

“Stole my helmet,” Grian grumbles, less happy.

“Yeah… they were definitely placed here intentionally, we almost got killed by them!” Scar exclaims. He sits up straighter and puffs out his chest. “But I fought them off valiantly.”

Tango and Jimmy share a doubtful look.

“And what about you two- did you guys encounter anything strange?” Scar claps his hands together, intrigued.

Grian rests on his arm and gestures loosely to them. “Strange enough to break both your arms?”

At that both Jimmy and Tango look at each other, coming to a realisation that makes them both grin wildly at each other.

“OH and THAT'S another thing,” Jimmy says far too gleefully.

“The game makers must have included this other mechanic to make it difficult for us!” Tango injects, matching his energy. He and Jimmy talk in slightly hushed yet excited voices to one another, Tango playfully pushing at Jimmy and whispering something about how it all made sense now.

Scar and Grian just blink blankly, clearly missing something. When neither of the two gives them context, instead excitedly making noises at each other over a discovery, Scar coughs.

“What mechanic?” He leans closer, curiously.

“We are linked! Somehow!” Jimmy exclaims loudly.

“It's probably a curse and enchantment related. But we feel and suffer the same wounds, hence… broken arms'' Tango adds.

“So you both broke your arm?” Scar hums still confused.

“No no just Jimmy, he fell.”

“Gracefully!” Jimmy interrupts with too much enthusiasm.

“Gracefully… from the top of the ravine. I was just walking nearby and received the injury too,” Tango sits back a little and loosely holds up his injured arm.

Scar hums to himself, gaze jumping between his company and their injuries. “So it's a proximity thing?”

Tango sits up fast with a gasp of excitement. “That's a good point! I don't know.”

He leans forward cautiously, still holding his bad arm to his chest as he beckons Scar to come closer.

Both Jimmy and Grian look at each other confused before Tango flicks Scar hard on the nose. Causing him to make a startled yelp noise.

With how they lean over, neither manages to notice as Grian also flinches, hand briefly touching his own nose, before he notices Jimmy watching him and stops.

“Nope didn't feel that,” Tango says, veering back to his previously comfortable position.

Scar reclines back too, leg braces creaking slightly as he rubs his nose and makes a small sad noise.

“Did you?” Tango turns to Jimmy who’s looking weirdly at Grian.

Tango nudges him, the taller shaking out of whatever thought he was having.

“Oh- no I didn't.”

He looks back to Grian who’s in the process of not so subtly shifting further from the others.

“Maybe… Are you two together?” Jimmy prompts, pinning Grian specifically with a look.

Obliviously, Scar says, “We just met,” still holding his nose.

“No, he meant the weird pain link thing,” Tango responds with a slight laugh.

“Oh!! Hold on-” Scar excitedly lifts his head up, his sore nose quickly forgotten. He turns to Grian who had been trying his best to not be noticed the whole exchange.

Moving too fast and suddenly, Scar goes to pinch his arm, only to hit his hand against metal. The realisation hits him dumbly, but not before he watches Grian cry out and pull back fearfully with an expression Scar doesn’t think he's ever seen on the man's face before.

Grian regains his composure quicker than Scar. He shakes off the scared look on his face but keeps his arms held close to his chest protectively.

Scar goes to apologise but Grian's voice interprets him. His attention directed away from Scar.

“No, we're not linked.”

Tango shrugs, titling his head at Jimmy and smiling.

“Well, maybe it's a thing specific to us,”

Jimmy pulls a slightly unconvinced face before agreeing. “Yeah probably.”

Grian finishes patching up Tango, ignoring the three as they descend into rambles and theories about it all.

He packs away his remaining supplies, looking pleased with his two patients' bandaged and slung arms, even as they pay him no mind.

He stands up, Scar is the first to look at him with a questioning expression.

“Welp! Considering I'm done… and you've given your less-than-useful information, I think it's our time to leave,” Grian brushes the dust off his trousers and holds out a hand for Scar.

“Scar?”

Scar doesn't move, he looks at the others and back to Grian, a guilty look on his face. “I actually think we should all stick together–”

Grian doesn't respond, instead pulling his hand away slowly. Scar continues.

“There’s clearly something much bigger going on here and I think teaming up is a safer option,”

The bird remains silent, his feathers betraying his blank face as they all pin. He blinks at Scar.

“I agree,” Jimmy speaks up awkwardly after a prolonged quiet.

Tango grins. “You're more than free to go off on your own,” he says snidely.

“Ah, well…” Scar splutters, standing up and holding his hands out, that's not what he meant at all, but Grian beats him to a response.

“No.”

“Wow… what a change of heart, you're scared of being alone?” Tango teases.

Grian pays no mind to the comments, his hurt look settling on Scar instead.

“Scar please, I can protect us both we don't need…” he loses his confidence, the end of his sentence teetering off.

Scar lets his arms hang at his side, as he looks at Tango and Jimmy, still sitting by each other's side. Now with both their arms in slings and, despite Tango's intimating expression, looking slightly pathetic in the hot sun.

“… they're hurting, Grian, I need to help,” he gives Grian a pleading look.

The glare stares at Scar, he seems to take in all of him, annoyed and confused. When suddenly, a brief flicker of understanding fills his features.

“… Grian?” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead, he stares at the dust to his side. Tail flicking at his side in frustration.

“I'm not leaving you,” he says simply. Refusing to elaborate.

A small part of Scar is surprised by Grian's response, his weird protectiveness over Scar, especially in context to how he’d acted towards the others. Scar can’t help but smile softly, even if Grian isn’t looking at him.

“So you'll agree to be a group?”

The bird turns to him with a hard look on his face, a disruption on his tongue before he cuts himself off, face flushing red when he realises Scar is smiling at him with a completely different energy. He bows his head slightly. “I'm staying with you, but I do not trust them.”

—

Scar sits down, explaining their travel plan, which honestly wasn't much since all they had done was travel in the direction of supposed man-made structures that had been spotted, hoping to not die in the process.

Grian positions himself slightly behind Scar as they all start laying out all their possessions. Comparing their resources with each other.

Out of everyone, Jimmy still has the most on him, carrying one container of water, which he apparently had forgotten about, he lets Grian and Scar take a swig, Tango insisting he doesn’t need it as much with being a blaze. They also have Grian's healing supplies, which at this point aren't very much, just a few alcohol wipes and gauze. Then also some dried meat Jimmy had and one package of dried cat treats that Scar had been carrying, and no one seems stoked about potentially eating.

Besides that, all they have is some random useless items in people’s pockets, all laid out in front of them. Anxious, taking in the unfortunate sight of what they have to survive on. Scar sits on his knees, ignoring how the braces creak as he leans on them.

Tango is watching Grian closely, mumbling under his voice like he’s trying to get Grian's attention, but the latter knows and deliberately ignores him.

Tango finally clears his throat and speaks up, tapping the sand in front of Grian to ensure he has his attention. “You have your weapon with you,” he says like it isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead rewrapping a rope they had found in one of Jimmy's pockets. The rope rings slightly against his metal digits as he pulls the thread between them.

“So we all have our comms, storage, and defensive tools missing except for you,” Tango states snarkily.

“Well, I also have my comms and other stuff missing. Guess they accidentally skipped out on the knife.”

“How convenient for you,”

Grian deliberately disregards Tango's biting word, looking up at the other two. “We might have enough for a day or two more of travel? Could even hunt along the way… if there are even any animals.”

“The knife will be handy then.” Scar tries, looking at Tango with a cheery smile.

���Could also… maybe… find plants?” Jimmy says, They all look around at the dry, sandy landscape, only occupied by the occasional dead shrub, with dismay.

“How much collective knowledge do we have with foraging?”

“I used to be a baker!” Scar interjects excitedly.

“Cool!- But I don't see any flour or water, don't know how that's going to help us in this situation, bud,” Grian pats Scar on the back.

“Unless you are secretly an enderian and can just … teleport bread to us or something,” Tango adds jokingly.

“I'm not-”

“Are you?” Grian cuts in, the others realising quickly that he’s addressing Jimmy with a weird look.

Jimmy looks up confused, apparently not paying attention to where the conversation had drifted. “What?”

“You’re very tall… thought maybe-”

“Oh no, I'm a glare!” he replies.

Grian goes strangely still, that cold look filling his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but chooses against it, going back to meaninglessly fiddling with a rope.

“Well, it would have been super convenient to be an enderian with y’know …the lack of water,” Tango hums next to Jimmy.

“It might rain!” Jimmy notes gleefully.

“Rain? Here?”

“I mean maybe? These kinds of canyons get formed by water, so there's a real chance a flash flood might happen!” At the last statement, he looks nervous. ”Which depending on where we are, could help us or … be bad.”

“How do you know that?” Tango looks up at Jimmy with a gleam of curiosity.

“Well I get bored, and there's this neat little library in the Nether with a lot of unique landscapes and… “

Jimmy and Tango titter off into their own conversation about various formations of rocks and caverns in desert-like terrain. Scar's mind drifts aside as he watches billows of sand blow above them on the top of the ravine. He catches movement out the sides of his eye as Grian shifts.

The sun has moved more in the sky, the shade they had hidden in changing direction. The hot sun finally reaching them, first hitting the feathers on the Grian tail. He must have just noticed as he pushes himself away from it, a scowl on his face while he creeps away and bumps into Scar in the process.

They look up at each other, Grian jumping slightly when he notices he’s being watched, his ears pulling back as he looks away.

“We should get going. You guys rested enough?” He cuts the other two off, Tango drawing in the sand with his claws with Jimmy instructing him.

“Oh sure-” Jimmy replies. He stands, using his large tail to help push him up, before lending a hand to Tango.

Grian stumbles up into a stand on the sandy ground, hissing to himself and mumbling something along the lines of “dumb bird feet”. He looks at Scar who changed to sit with his legs in front of him, inspecting his leg braces and sighing.

“Those aren't meant for the desert, are they?” He holds out a hand which Scar takes, pulling himself to stand.

“Nope! Not really, more like indoor use.”

Grian frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but Tango cuts him off.

“Actually…” The blaze moves towards them, holding a hand behind his back, a snarky look crossing his face.

His gaze is glued directly on Grian as he pulls his uninjured hand out, holding it towards them. Grian's hands are still in Scar’s, he feels Grian's grip tighten subconsciously before he pulls his hand away in favour of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Tango.

“You want this temporary alliance to go well right?”

“I mean… it would be convenient,” Grian frowns, confused about where Tango is going with this.

“Give me your knife,” Tango flicks his claws beckoning.

“… What?”

“I feel like it's very justified.”

“I'm not giving you my weapon,” Grian snaps, his hand moving to his side subconsciously.

Tango pulls his arm back, crossing it over with the other. “I still don't trust you, our minds would be more at ease if you didn't have that.” He looks up to Jimmy who’s looking over his shoulder, nodding slightly.

Scar looks at Grian whose back is turned to him, but regardless he can see the anger physically welling up, as his feathers stand up and his tail starts to flick back and forth. His claws hovering right above where the blade sits, ready.

“HAH, what do you think I care, there is no way I'd give it to you.” Grian spits.

Scar hears him take in a deep breath, sensing the start of something terrible happening. He takes a slightly stumbling step between them.

“I could take it,” Scar says simply. Both of them look up at him.

“I mean- you both seem to trust me more, so maybe I could carry it for now?” Scar tries, putting on his most easygoing smile. Tango's frown softens slightly, but that isn't who Scar is worried about most. The bird is now looking at him, a lot less spiked up with his mouth slightly open, his eyes searching Scar for something. He looks back to Tango, who just nods to Scar.

“Fine.”

Almost everyone lets out a breath of relief.

Grian pulls out his weapon, quickly, and grins to himself as he watches Jimmy and Tango flinch.

He hands it to Scar and gives him a weird look only he can see before his face morphs into a generally upset pout. Striding past them all, he barks “Follow,” and doesn't wait for them to catch up.

Scar looks at the weapon in his hands, remembering its hold before wedging it into his belt.

—

They continue with their walking, Grian at the front out of frustration over the loss of his weapons. Tango's prying eyes watch him from behind, insisting on being on the lookout for any funny behaviour.

The mood is off. Tango and Grian holding their weird rivalry and Jimmy and Scar lagging behind, looking at each other confused but not quite wanting to start small talk out of fear of getting on the other two nerves. They both opt instead to stare at the ground and savour as much of the shade as they can.

Tango is the first to break the silence.

“I don't think I trust you.”

He has his head facing forward, the anger in his voice enough to indicate he’s talking to Grian.

“I bet you’re one of them.”

“Them?” Grian almost laughs.

“Explains why you have your weapon and not us, why you're so reluctant to share why you might be here. And don't even think I forgot about your oh-so-welcoming greeting,” Tango responds with no amusement in his voice.

“What is your problem with me?”

“I think you're an Ender, a man from the inside sent down to watch us.” He says simply, pushing up his shoulders.

Grian snorts, drawing out his words. “Literally all you have against me is that I have a weapon and I’m a bit of an introvert, that's barely anything,”

“That's not all I have. What about your wings?”

The mood changes instantly, from bickering to an icy, quiet cold.

With that Scar finally looks up at the conversation, they have since all slowed down from walking to a standstill. Grian being the one to stop first as he scowls in Tango's direction.

He doesn't say a word. Tango continues with a malicious look on his face.

“And the arms, they're enchanted, right? I can basically smell it from here. You don't come across enchantments like that in the wild. And that's not even mentioning the level of skill that must have gone into those base robotics, for some random stranger– You'd have to be a part of a pretty powerful faction to get robotics like those and I definitely doubt you're a Vindicator.”

Scar watches Grian flash him a very brief glance at that name. Tango continues unaware.

“I've been around Ender technology enough to recognize its signatures, I used to work with it-”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Grian cuts in coldly with a flat tone.

“I think I do.” Tango challenges, bearing his sharp teeth.

“Hey, hey, what about we uhh, calm down a bit?” Scar interrupts, shrugging his shoulders slightly with an open demeanour.

Tango's wild gaze jumps to him and sticks.

“I think you guys might have all come off on the wrong foot! Ahah,” Scar laughs painedly.

He stalls slightly, almost feeling the heat from Tango start to concentrate on him instead.

“I promise you, Grian is not as stabby as he seems.”

“Oh yeah?” Tango responds incredulously. “Is that why you have a stab wound on your shoulder?” He jabs his finger in the direction of Scar's shoulder, the gauze and tank top stained lightly red.

Scar shoots Grian a look, the other's eyes blown slightly more wide knowingly.

“…Unrelated circumstances,” Scar says simply.

Tango steps closer to Scar, causing him to stumble back slightly, Jimmy awkwardly drifting over his shoulder placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder briefly. “Why are you even sticking up for this guy? Didn't you say you only just met?” Tango all but growls at Scar.

“Well… We're friends.”

“No, there's something else. Something you're not telling us,”

Scar's mouth finds itself ajar, as he tries to think of what to say. Grian is painfully quiet over his shoulder.

Tango takes another step towards Scar, his mind spinning trying to figure out a believable story.

“…We made a deal!” He settles on.

“A deal?” That seems to genuinely take Tango by surprise, his imposing façade faltering.

“Yeah.”

Tango pulls a weird expression before it changes quickly as if struck by an idea. “If you made a deal maybe we could fulfil it instead, then we won't need this guy. I have the contacts, I know my loopholes. If this deal is so much more important, that you'd associate with this guy then choose what I can offer you instead. What even would it be? to you to find yourself associated with someone like him? What was it?”

“I-…” Scar hesitates and turns his gaze to where Grian is standing. The three of them have moved a considerable distance away from him during their argument, but he still stands within audible range, watching quietly.

The bird looks uncomfortable and small, he thinks. His feathers pinning and fingers flicking at his side, right where his blade would have been.

His expression looks complicated, Scar observes, like he’s expecting this situation but still feels a sense of hurt or pain. Weirdly, his gaze is fixed on the blaze rather than Scar, but he can see him fidget and glare as if he knows he’s being looked at, trying his best to avoid eye contact.

Tango coughs shuffling forward in the sand to bring Scar's attention back to him.

Scar had almost forgotten what they had asked. The deal. He wants to know what their deal was. Technically the deal wasn't even that specific, it’s just protection. That's all Grian had promised and even with a weapon, which he no longer had, in comparison to both Tango and Jimmy his usefulness might be matched.

Grian's expression makes sense now, he’s fully expecting Scar to take this deal.

Scar looks back at Grian, catching him looking at Scar before he darts his eyes away.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t understand why Tango is so hostile, it feels unjustified. Like he’s missing something, which is impossible. He's known Grian longer than Tango. Grian is barely a threat, yeah awkward, maybe a little impulsive and snide. But Scar doesn’t believe that justifies leaving him behind. Why is there so much bitterness between his newly acquainted companions? Why is Tango so insistent on Grian being a bad person? These questions circle around in Scar's head as he tries to think of some way he can defend Grian.

“We were going to start up a very specific business.” Scar grins.

“… What?”

“Trading goods. See, I need him because he’s got those fancy wings,” he gestures towards Grian, who’s badly concealing his bewilderment, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, no sound escaping.

“What are you trading?”

Scar mulls it over before looking at the ground and shrugging. “….sand.”

Despite everything, Grian laughs at that. Coughing and suppressing giggles when the blazeborn shoots him a look.

“Sand?” Jimmy almost yells.

Tango taps at his chin in thought. “I- I mean I could maybe…”

Scar interrupts him. “No no no, I'm a dignified salesman. I made a deal and stayed true to my word. I'm sorry but I'll have to decline the offer,” he replies with an easy-going demeanour.

“We're now a package deal now,” he walks up to stand by Grian's side, patting his shoulder roughly.

Grian's only response is to make an awkward noise and to lean away from Scar, but not enough to actually break the space they share.

Tango looks at them both, an angry look directed at the two. Suddenly, Jimmy places a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we should just play along, even if we're suspicious of someone. I think we need all the help we can get.” The taller man says down to him, smiling slightly.

Tango takes in Jimmy's look, his frown smoothing out for a brief second before he looks back at Scar.

“Maybe I don't trust you now Scar, you've clearly also got secrets you're not telling us,”

“You're getting too caught up on secrets and mysteries, and supposed ‘them’s,” Scar puts on a wide smile, waving at the air with a nonchalant attitude.

“How about… G!” He slings his arm around Grian and pushes him in closer to the other two, while the bird sputters slightly at the new nickname.

“Promise you won't stab any of us in the back until we're free from this …game?” Scar holds him by his shoulders. Grian flinches slightly as he tries to look up at Scar only to get a face full of sun. The glare looks back at the other two, not saying a word, his ears flicking absently.

“Grian!” Scar nudges him.

“Yes, sure,” he says flatly. He crosses his arms. “I promise.”

Scar beams, looking at Tango and Jimmy. “Annddddd do you guys promise not to belittle my friend here for being a bit creepy?”

The both of them hesitate, looking up at each other, exchanging looks.

“I feel creepy is an understatement…” Tango scoffs.

“We promise,” Jimmy says at the same time.

Scar claps his hands together, Grian flinching and holding his ears at the noise. “See! Solved! We're now a team!”

No one celebrates, they all look at each other with uncomfortable hesitation, not at all meeting Scar's enthusiasm. He hops on his toes, ushering the others forward, getting them to start walking again.

“Team… yellow.” Scar looks around at his company, all pulling different forms of confused faces. “Why are you all blond?”

—

After several hours of walking, the sun had begun to dip over the horizon. They were all able to confirm the revelation that this planet has a pretty short day cycle.

The journey had been painfully awkward. Tango and Jimmy spent most of it talking between themselves, sometimes hushed, which Grian pretended not to notice. He’d closed off slightly despite Scar trying to start a conversation with him several times. It was a stark contrast to how they were in the morning. Scar missed their smallest interactions deeply.

At one point Tango had instructed Scar not to walk so close to Grian, mumbling that he could take his weapon back so easily with how close they were walking. Scar tried to argue, but Grian complied, closing himself off even more as he walked ahead of them.

They’re now settling in for sleep, taking turns in pairs, Tango not trusting Grian to be lookout alone.

Tango and Jimmy lay backed up into the shelter of an overhang, while Scar and Grian sit at the entrance, a considerable distance away.

“Wow- it got dark quicker. Darker than yesterday even,” Scar hums. The sky’s a deep, dark blue rather than the red of last night. Scar shivers, it’s also considerably colder.

“Yeah,” Grian murmurs.

“I bet this is really comforting for you, gloomy dim light,” Scar leans back looking towards where he assumes Grian is sitting, it’s pretty hard to tell.

“Yeah.”

Scar turns back and frowns to himself. It seems Grian is still acting distant, even with Tango and Jimmy snoring peacefully behind them.

“Hmm … wish I could see in the dark though, can't find-”

With far too much force Scar reaches forward, ramming his wrist into a rock wall. He winces. “Ow…”

“Are you okay?” Grian asks from his side, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah… just, there's a wall there.”

Scar continues to blindly stumble in the dark, searching for his jacket. Suddenly there’s a warm glow, illuminating his surroundings. Scar's mind is slow to process as small flickers of light drift into his peripheral vision, like some combination of fire embers and little lightning bugs.

He jumps backwards, his knee slipping out from under him. “Oh oh oh– what is that!?”

He looks around in shock at the small fiery creatures, before his eyes make contact with Grian who looks completely unconcerned about them. Scar then realises the glare is actually slightly amused at Scars' fright.

“Oh, are you doing that?”

“Yeah… lights to see what you're doing,” Grian mutters somewhat shyly, looking at the space between them. Scar sits back down, reaching for his jacket now that the dim glow has lit up the area.

“Oh! Thanks!” He puts the jacket on, grumbling about the discovery that it isn’t as comfortable inside out. But at least it still keeps the cold at bay so he isn’t about to complain too much.

He watches the tiny lights float in the air. They spin and twirl into themselves, dancing around one another. Scar slowly recognizes the shapes of tiny phantoms, just like the ones from yesterday but smaller and made out of sunlight.

“… Aren't these technically illusion magic?” Scar thinks, not even realising he’s saying it out loud.

He looks to Grian when he hears a shuddered breath, “…oh I guess so,” Grian wraps his arms around his knees, pressing his face into them with a soulful expression.

Unlike the tired apathy he has been carrying, this look is pained and hurt, the little illusions dimming as if in response.

Scar holds his hand out catching one between his fingers. It flutters and whirls in his palm, never quite touching his skin. Scar can swear he can feel its warmth, even though he knows he’s most likely imagining it.

“Well …I like them. They're very cute,” Scar smiles, looking at Grian as he holds one of the tiny beasts in between his hands.

Grian looks up at him, half his face obscured, and that sad look still in his eyes.

“You’re very talented,” Scar pokes at the illusion in his hand, feeling nothing as his finger phases through it. The illusion still dancing and spinning as if it was affected by the force.

“…Thanks,” Grian responds, muffled. A small smile creeps into his features at Scar's compliment.

They fall back into a still quiet state. Scar pushes the illusion back into the air with the others, leaning against the wall as he watches them dance.

“A game huh? I wonder why I'm here…” He muses. Not really expecting an answer from the glare, more filling the air.

“Tango said that we all must have wronged an Ender in our past… But I don't think I have- aside from being a Vindicator… I wonder…” He mulls over ideas in his mind, but there honestly isn't much he can think of. He's never been that involved in the field, and he barely even knows if he'd recognize an Ender if he saw one.

Naturally, Scar's gaze drifts to his company. Grian seems to be as deep in thought as him, his brows deep and ears pinned back, upset.

“Are you… okay?” Scar asks.

Grian looks up at him, his eyes following each line on Scar's face before responding. “Have you decided if I'm a good guy or bad guy yet?”

Scar tilts his head, that’s a very particular kind of question. He leans his head back, taking in the sandy walls striped with different warm shades of colour.

“I don't…” he sighs. “I think I'm starting to realise it's a lot more complex than I thought it all was.”

“Yeah,” Grian mumbles.

“What do you think you are?”

That oh-so-familiar quiet rears its head again. Scar starts to think he isn't going to answer him until, finally, he’s proven wrong.

“… I don't think I'm either, I don't think there really are good guys and bad guys, at least that it's not so black and white most of the time.”

Scar tilts his head down to look at Grian. The bird has now wrapped his tail around his feet, he's almost perfectly wound, aside from his wings that lay out behind him, tired. He's not looking at Scar, but instead at his own illusions that continue to float in the space between them.

Scar looks at them as well. “… I think you're good.”

Grian shifts uncomfortably, raising his head high enough that Scar can see the pained grin he wears.

“Haha god–” he pulls one arm out from being wrapped around his leg and pushes it hard into one side of his face. “You really need to pick better alliances, you really don't know me…”

Scar tilts his head from side to side.

“Well then tell me… do you think you're bad?” He asks simply.

Grian doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he digs his nails slightly into his scalp and looks to his side, very quietly hissing in a breath.

“… I’m trying to be a better person than I was,” he says, almost below a whisper.

“Well, that's something! Bad people don't tend to want to change,” Scar smiles reassuringly. Catching Grian’s eyes and putting on the most friendly expression he can muster.

Grian doesn't seem to buy it though, he pushes his head back into his knees. This time leaning his face away from Scar.

They both sit there, not uttering another word for a few minutes. Scar looks again at the illusions. He wonders what it was like to summon them, and then to keep concentrating on them. Grian doesn't even seem to be paying them much mind, his head buried in his metal limbs. Yet they still dance softly in the air. Maybe it was a soothing thing to conjure and maintain. Grian's feathers certainly imply he's a lot less stressed compared to how they’ve been most of the day.

Scar watches as Grian taps his long taloned fingers against his arm in boredom, the sound resonating in their small space. Metal against metal. Scar stares absently at them, Grian’s head is turned away, so he doesn't feel so bad about picking up on the smaller details he can see now he's this close.

They look slightly scratched, the deep black of the metal is scuffed in places, turning a dark grey. Up this close Scar notices how the robotics look, unfinished. Like they’re just a frame, the mechanisms, and wires open to the world, no protective shell. He can see some of the wires have tape around them, stuck haphazardly to the inside as if they had been snagged and pushed in deeper to avoid being torn again. It strikes Scar as odd. They look incomplete, yet when Grian taps his fingers they move with the fluidity of an organic limb, the small mechanisms barely even make a sound.

“Is it true what he said about enchanted robotics?” Scar asks spontaneously.

Grian lifts his head, that cold look returning once again. He pulls his arms from being wrapped around his legs into his lap, still curled up in his position.

“So, you do think I'm an Ender,” he says plainly.

“Well– I mean– You're not doing much to refute being one,” Scar tries, chuckling under his breath.

“I'm not an Ender,” Grian responds coldly, the least bit amused.

Moving uncomfortably, Scar breaths in, dropping his smile for a genuine look. “And I choose to believe you.”

Grian looks unconvinced. “But you still think I am,” he says slowly.

“… I don't think anything.” Scar argues, interrupted by a surprising chuckle.

“Well, I knew that much already.”

“I– hey!”

Grian giggles to himself, it lays bittersweet on his face when he falls off into silence.

Scar finishes what he’d been saying. “I don't like to assume things.”

With that Grian looks at Scar, really looks at him. The deep dark pools of his eyes squint and scrutinise him. Scar thinks the reflections of the illusions in his eyes look like stars.

“You liked to assume I'm a good person.”

“That's different, I have evidence,” Scar responds cheerfully.

“And what Tango stated wasn't?” He squeaks, baffled, unwinding from his ball more to throw his arms out.

“It didn't feel fair.”

“Fair–” Grian parrots back in disbelief, almost sneering to himself.

“Besides, I feel like it might be hypocritical of me to be upset that you're hiding who you are.”

Grian folds his arms back over himself looking away. “But that's different, I know what you're hiding– I was the one to even suggest it–” He says bitterly.

“Well– maybe I also have my own secrets,” Scar winks.

With a slightly more light in his voice, Grian leans his chin on his knees. “I doubt that– you like talking too much.”

Scar laughs at that, then sits forward holding a finger up as the little illusions swim around him. “You truly underestimate the power of talking, my friend. You can know anything and be given anything by talking, whereas violence enlists the opposite. It cuts you off from ever knowing more. People love talking, and I love secrets. It's an art, really.”

“Why did you become a Vindicator then? If anything they're very for violence and anti-information,” Grian mumbles, looking up at him with a raised brow.

Scar winks again, but this time taps his nose, “For secrets,” he says simply.

Grian rolls his eyes and laughs. “Ah,” He smiles, slipping slightly at the edges. He taps at his arm again. “You sort of concern me,” he huffs. “I don't get you.”

“Well I mean secrets—” Scar starts.

Grian cuts him off, waving a hand. “No no, that's not what I'm talking about…” He rests his hand back down onto his knee looking straight at Scar. “You have this inexplicable blind faith in me and I don't understand why,” his nose scrunches up. “Now, either you're really dumb or …”

Scar splutters trying to defend himself, but Grian continues, closing his eyes.

“I don't know…” He titters.

“I'm just very curious.”

“… about me?”

“Yeah! If you're not going to tell me who you are, then I guess I'll have to get to know you,” Scar grins.

“Usually when people are investigating someone, they don't straight up tell them to their face,” Grian bobs his head smirking.

“And I'm not investigating you,” Scar argues, “it's called companionship— becoming friends. You do have those don't you?” Scar tilts his head.

Grian grins up at him. “Well, you see—” Leaning forward, beckons Scar to follow his movement, before pulling back suddenly.

“That! Was obviously an investigation,” he laughs unfooled.

“Worth a try,” Scar shrugs, also leaning back.

They both become quiet. A cool breeze blows at the feathers on Grian's tail. The little light illusions move through the air slowly, unbothered by the physical realm. Grian holds his hands out, as they all drift over to him, curling up neatly in his hands.

He looks at Scar who’s watching, intrigued, and flashes his teeth in a smile, before closing his hands together, extinguishing the light. Only slight shimmers make it out past his fingers, as Scar watches him push his palms hard against each other still looking at him.

He opens his hands to reveal one creature, slightly bigger than the ones from earlier curled up in his hands. Its form is slightly more detailed, its warm light shimmering with blues and pink at the tips. It bares its tiny teeth as if yawning, and stretches out from its sleepy curl. Grian pushes it up into the air, the small creature imitating catching air in its wings and drifting off into the space in front of them.

“I uh—” Grian interrupts nervously, pulling Scars' gaze away from the illusion. “Thank you! For sticking up for me back there.” He holds a small smile, pained at the edges.

“I honestly wouldn't have held it against you if you took their offer and ran… but—” He coughs and shakes his head. “I guess what I'm saying is it was nice, very foolish… we literally have so many lies to navigate now, it’s a walking nightmare… but it was very kind of you.”

Scar beams, almost wiggling in excitement. “Hey! We're a package deal now!”

The bird rolls his eyes but keeps his smile. “Ugh.”

He pulls his legs out in front of him, his wings lifting off the dusty floor. He shakes them off from the dust before folding them behind his back neatly. He gives Scar a tired look.

Scar shuffles forward waving his hands out, not done with the conversation just yet.

“Seriously! I like you!” Grian flicks him a nervous look, making a confused noise that almost sounds like a chirp. Scar itches his head and elaborates. “I'm glad we've gotten to meet each other again. Under different circumstances.”

Grian's wide grin falters. His eyes drift to the left side of Scar's face, darting away and looking at the ground instead.

“And let’s hope we leave this one better then, aye?” His hesitant grimaces switch to a small but genuine smile.

“I owe at least that to you,” he adds.

Scar nods.

It never occurred to him that they’ll have to part ways at some point, for some reason that thought never crossed his mind, and it makes him sad. He’s a Vindicator and Grian was, probably still is, a criminal. It would be hard to meet up with someone actively imprisoned, and that’s even if Grian cares enough to risk that. Considering he said the words leave, he must have assumed they'll likely never meet again.

It makes Scar feel a little sour, he was having the most fun time here, even with the lingering death and tense energy directed at his new friend. He'd had more fun being kidnapped and disregarded on some random planet than he ever had on a shift.

Scar watches the illusion spin, he doesn't need to dwell on it too much, this adventure is starting to appear long and treacherous, he should just enjoy what he has left of it and Grian’s company.

Scar puts light into his voice, eyes still set on the glowing creature.

“Now shall we discuss at length about our sand trader backstory?”

Grian snorts.

He looks at him to watch Grian fake an obvious yawn. “Wow! I'm suddenly very tired.”

Scar smiles more genuinely this time.

“I’ll be called ‘Scorn’ and you'll be my faithful lackey ‘Giran’”

“They already know our names why-” Grian wheezes, before holding his palms up. ”You know what- nah, actually I'm asleep right now- and actively not engaging” He lays down closing his eyes.

“Best friends,” Scar continues. “Found abandoned as children together in a sandbox, oh that could be where the trading started!”

Grian rolls over away from Scar, pulling his wings pointedly over his head.

“I'M SLEEPING! Can't hear you over how loudly I'm sleeping right now-” he says slightly muffled, starting to laugh. Before he chuckles loudly to himself.

He suddenly sits up quickly and holds his hands tight over his mouth, Scar noticing the noise of someone grumbling tiredly.

He sees a shadow of Tango toss in his sleep before settling again.

Scar and Grian both exchange a look, Grian trying his hardest to hold onto a laugh before he coughs one into his hands, hushing him. Scar joins in wheezing.

They both sit, in a warm glow, laughing quietly between themselves as the night continues.

[themultifanshipper]

Hi,

Id like to make a request. Could you write a fic about franco and reader, with voyagerism (idk how you spell it lol). Preferably not by a parent this time (thats a joke!) . You could write a threesome if you think of someone that would go well with franco( I cant think of anyone rn ) . I liked Podium celebration, if thats something to go on. Thanks ahead of time.

P.s. I wouldve suggested lando but you asked for no ln4 fics and I dont think carlos goes with franco ( idk ).

P.s.s. Maybe, and thats a maybe, you can write readerxfrancoxpepe ?

P.s.s.s. Im ovulating rn so…thats what this is abt

How you ended up in this position, you weren't really sure. 

But who were you to complain when you had the attention of not one, but two incredibly fit men on you. 

Warnings: smut, in honour of Franco's dick sucking lips, threesome, blowjobs, facials,  i'll be honest there is no plot to be found here

Franco had been the one to suggest it, the man was shameless after all. 

And of course Lando had to overhear the conversation, because really, the paddock was not the place to be talking about threesomes if you wanted to be discreet about it. 

You and Franco had a thing. 

A sexual thing. 

It wasn't rare that you would find yourselves in each other's beds after a tough weekend. 

This was shaping up to be just that. 

Lando was your teammate, and ever since you'd joined McLaren there had been a sort of lingering tension between you two. 

And, well, Franco had been obsessed with Lando for years. 

He talked about the brit constantly, and when he'd suggested a threesome, you hadn't said no. 

And Lando, who was sitting at the table behind you, had caught quite a bit of the conversation, but wasn't sure how to broach the subject with you. 

Until he didn't have to. 

You were in your driver’s room later, fooling around with Franco. 

And by fooling around, I mean he was railing the shit out of you on the couch. 

Your cries of pleasure were driving Lando nuts, so he stormed into the room, fully intending to tell you both off, but the words died instantly when he saw you. 

You were straddling Franco’s thighs, facing the door, so that you were on full display, spread out for him as Franco's cock split you open. 

Your eyes went wide when you saw him, but you couldn't say anything because your mouth was stuffed with Franco's fingers. 

All you could do was moan around them while Franco carried on thrusting into you.

Lando could feel himself hardening at the sight in front of him, and he could do nothing but stare in awe.

It took several long minutes before Franco noticed him, and immediately an evil grin settled over his features when he finally did.

Lando remained speechless so it was up to Franco to break the silence. 

“Come on in Lando, we were wondering if you would show up” 

He continued thrusting into you almost nonchalantly. 

Lando's gaze was fixed on the way your cunt was clenching around Franco, drooling helplessly as he bullied his cock in and out of you. 

“Fuckin' hell”  Lando muttered, and took a step towards the couch but Franco stopped him by raising a finger and tutting at him. 

“Ah ah, strip” 

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he complied, quickly pulling his team gear off and took another step, but Franco stopped him again. 

“Sit down” he said simply and Lando looked at him with a confused expression. 

“Where?” 

Franco rolled his eyes “Where do you think? On the floor, where you are” 

Lando looked outraged but Franco quickly shut down any protests. 

“Either sit down or get out” 

Lando sat down. 

“Good. Now you are going to watch me make her come, and you are not going to touch yourself, understand?” 

Lando nodded. 

He wasn't entirely sure why he was complying, but something about Franco's tone and demeanor was turning his insides to liquid. 

He watched as Franco picked up the pace of his hips, and one of his hands went to tease your clit. 

You were completely out of it and you threw your head back as you felt you orgasm quickly approaching. 

Franco was nothing if not good with his hands. 

“Look at Lando, sweetheart. He wants to see you come. Don't you Lando?” 

The brit nodded furiously, making the younger man chuckle. 

“See, he is desperate for it. Come for him baby. Make a mess on my cock” 

You came with a muffled wail, riding out the waves as you bounced on Franco's cock. 

Lando thought you looked like a goddess. 

Franco gently lay you down on the couch and motioned Lando over. 

“Sit” he stood up and offered his seat to the older man. 

Lando complied, confused at why Franco was… 

Franco was on his knees. 

Franco was spreading Lando's legs and crawling between them. 

Franco was licking his lips at the sight of Lando's leaking cock. 

Oh god. 

Franco's mouth. 

The Argentine had his lips wrapped around the base of his cock, and was swallowing around him, breathing through his nose, like a fucking pro. 

“Fuck- Jesus, Franco” he hissed, and Franco hummed around his cock. 

You'd recovered by this point, and had crawled toward Lando to bring him into a kiss. 

He groaned into it when Franco started bobbing his head, looking up at the two of you through his lashes. 

The sight was something else. How a person could look sinful and angelic at the same time was beyond you. 

“Lando” he was breathless as he pulled off with a pop, and a string of spit joined his lip to Lando's tip. “Fuck my mouth. Please” 

The brit groaned, and grabbed a handful of Franco's soft hair, sliding his cock along the younger man's outstretched tongue. 

“You two are going to be the death of me” he couldn't believe this was happening. 

You giggled, and he pressed forward, filling Franco's mouth, all the way to the base and started a steady rhythm with his hips. 

Franco's jaw quickly went slack and his eyes were glazed over as Lando used his mouth for his pleasure, and you noticed him gripping his own cock tightly to avoid coming too soon. 

Lando pulled him off his cock and panted, eyes black as he stared down at the younger man. 

“Fuck. I'm not going to last much longer if you keep doing that.” 

Franco nodded, breathless and red in the face, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks as he got up off the floor. 

“You want to fuck her?” he asked and Lando looked at you. 

You nodded enthusiastically at him and he gave you a shy smile. 

“Would love to” 

You lay on your back, and Lando slotted himself between your legs, lining himself up and pushing in slowly. 

You both needed to take a steadying breath once he was fully inside.  

Christ he was big. 

You looked up at Franco, who's hands were wandering across your skin greedily, and pulled him closer to you. 

You put your tongue out, and he grinned understanding straight away what you were asking for. 

But before you could take him in your mouth, Lando spoke up. 

“Uhm… can I?” 

Both your heads snapped to him and he shivered at the attention. 

“Unless you don't want me to” 

Franco bit his lip, remembering all the times he'd imagined Lando on his knees for him, not quite believing it was actually going to happen. 

“Sure, mate” he managed to say almost nonchalantly. 

Getting to fuck the driver you'd been crushing on since you were 15 was quite an experience for him, bless his soul. 

Lando grinned and leaned over you, looking up at Franco seductively before taking his tip into his mouth and suckling on it gently. 

He whined softly, he could taste the remnants of your juices on Franco's cock and the thought turned his brain to mush. 

Franco groaned and put a hand in Lando's hair to grip it, not pushing, just to ground himself. 

But Lando liked that a bit too much, and at the feeling of hands in his hair, his hips bucked and you moaned at the sudden movement. 

You all soon found a rhythm, Lando fucking you in earnest while Franco alternated between fucking each of your mouths. 

He'd been so on edge since he fucked you that he knew he wouldn't last long, and Lando wasn't going to last long either. 

“Lando, you'd better make her come before you do, or we are never inviting you again” 

Lando moaned around his cock but one of his hands trailed down your body to help you along, his slick fingers working over your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

You and Lando came almost at the same time, rutting against each other desperately as you rode out your highs. 

Franco, the bastard, pulled out and pumped his cock furiously while he watched you and Lando completely fucked out under him. 

He came on both of your faces, streaks of white painting your skin as he groaned and his knees almost buckled at the sight. 

Cleanup was easier than it had any right to be. 

Thanks to your regular activities with Franco, you always had wash cloths ready in your driver's room. 

“You know…” Lando said, as you sat there with a cloth, gently wiping the cum off his face “I could've swallowed and saved you this hassle” 

Franco gasped dramatically. 

“You are such a slut.” 

Lando scoffed. “Takes one to know one. You were the one basically crying on my cock before” 

Franco blushed and pulled a Tshirt over his head to try and hide it.  

But Lando pressed on. 

“Tell me, how long have you dreamed of doing that?” 

“Doing what?” Franco asked, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Sucking me off” he had a smug grin on his face. 

Franco just blushed even harder. “I would rather not say…” 

You giggled and pulled Lando in for a quick kiss, getting up to retrieve your clothes. 

“So…” he said awkwardly, looking between you and Franco. “Will I be invited back into this little arrangement?” 

Franco smirked, zipping his pants up swiftly. 

He walked towards Lando on the couch and brought a hand up to cup his jaw. 

He leaned down, as if he was hoing to kiss Lando, but the little tease just hovered there, lips barely brushing against the other as he spoke. 

“I think you have earned it” he he rasped, and Lando felt his pulse quicken as Franco pulled away, slapping his cheek lightly and retreating to pick up his jacket. 

You glanced at Lando and he looked quite flustered. 

Oh yeah, this was not going to be the last time, if you had anything to say about it. 

[hanahaki270]

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ “You Belong to Me” ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

・❥・ Synopsis ・❥・ Having an Uchiha as an ex doesn’t mean anything. Once you’ve managed to make them fall for you, you’re basically stuck with them for eternity.

・❥・ Pairing ・❥・ Sasuke x Fem!reader

・❥・ A/N ・❥・ I finally decided to continue watching shippuden after having it on pause for 5 years.. yeahhh so I’m having a huge obsession with it rn. Also please feel free to send prompt requests for me to write! And I feel like I definitely could have written this out better but I was in a rush and stressed out about Job interviews so mb

♥︎

You finally gathered the courage within you to end your relationship with Sasuke. This wasn’t an easy decision. In fact it was tearing you apart. You still loved him. But the differences between your priorities and his were far too different to the point where they were conflicting with each other.

You might as well have been talking to a wall that day with how blank his expression was after you just announced how you were breaking up with him. The loud silence was killing you inside, does he not care at all?

♥︎

-You wanting to break up with him was like a jab at his ego. The Sasuke Uchiha. The last prodigy of his clan and you wanted to leave him? Though this enraged him, he refused to let you know it. He couldn’t let you have the satisfaction of knowing that this actually affected him.

-After you left the apartment he started to completely trash the place. Everything in it was obliterated into nothingness. But as soon as he went out in public he acted completely fine as if nothing happened.

-Anytime you were around he would make sure you saw him with other girls. He wanted to show you that he could be with anybody he desired without a problem, at any given second. Show you that you weren’t nothing special to him.

-He was lying. Because as soon as you left his vision he treated the girls like shit and pushed them aside after they served their purpose in making you jealous.

-He tried to sleep with random women in the village to further prove that he didn’t need you. (He was really just trying to convince himself) but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. None of them even compared to your beauty. Even the thought of another person lying on the bed you two once shared disgusted him.

-After weeks of this even Sasuke couldn’t believe his own facade. He craved you. He craved your smile, your laughter, Your touch. And is willing to do whatever it takes to remind you that you belong with him.

-He sucked up his pride and begged Naruto to send you two on missions together. So you’d be basically forced to talk to each other . (Naruto uses this against him every now and then)

-During one of the missions, one of your comrades decide to get a little touchy with you. You pay this no mind since you have no interest in the guy, but Sasuke definitely notices it. What’s a worthless ninja doing talking to what’s his?

-A couple of days after that mission, the scenario of another man getting that close to you haunted Sasuke day and night. There’s no way in hell you’d ever willingly decide to be with any other man but him. Right? He needed the reassurance and he needed it now.

-It was 4 am when you opened the door to your apartment after you were awoken by loud desperate banging on the door just to be faced with your ex. He invited himself in, closing the door behind him as he slowly crept towards you.

“Sasuke?”

-He reached for your hand and held it in his, as he focused on you as if there was nothing else in this world. You could tell he developed dark circles since the last time you saw him.

“The day we got together was the day I chose you to be the one I repopulate my clan with. The only one worthy of the surname Uchiha. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

-He noticed how you were at a loss of words so he took this moment to do what he’s been yearning to. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was messy and desperate. He kissed you as if you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And to him, you were.

-Needless to say you were vulnerable to his request and took him back. How could you not?

♥︎

[mingoooossii]

ATEEZ comforting you after you have a rough week.

Ot8 x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, reader is overwhelmed in most of these, mentions of exams(scary ik), kinda corny tbh, also not proofread so there might be some mistakes.

A/n: i used most of my braincells 4 this 🫠 yea also this purely depended upon my mood so that's why some of them are just thoughts while the others are full blown conversations. will most likely rewrite this is in the future I think. Also I'm planning on opening taglists so if you want to be included just lmk!! (for ateez or any other group)

Words: 3.1k

Requested ♡ Ateez masterlist.

"When you feel like you're nowhere, Let it go 'cause I'll be there for you..."

⋆˚࿔ Hongjoong

• whenever things get a little too much, you'd usually suck it up

• it wasn't healthy, you know that yet you couldn't afford to fall back now so you did it anyway

• him, who's very sensitive to your every little changes in mood, of course, noticed it too

• you tend to sort of shut down whenever you get overwhelmed, causing you to get moody and quiet, often leading to minor arguments with him

• but he understands (being prone to overworking himself, he was never too fond of the after effects)

• but that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it

• ”you're taking a break.” “But I need to finish this-”

• he cut you off by closing your book, making sure to bookmark it before picking you up from the chair

• ”have you looked at yourself yet? you're about to collapse.”

• you fell silent at that, letting him carry you over to the bed, feeling your irritation dissolve at the stern tone, yet you could pick up on the hint of worry.

• ”but I need to finish it, or else I won't catch up on my work. I'm already behind in-”

• your worried ramblings was silenced by his lips pressing against yours for a brief moment

• ”i vaguely remember someone pulling me out of my studio, by my ear, when I was overworking myself.”

• he muttered, sitting beside you once he put you down on the bed, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

• ”you should listen to your own advice, you know?”

• you could feel the tears pricking your eyes at his words, making you feel helpless and frustrated

• ”there's just…so much. i don't know if I'll ever finish it…what am I gonna do?”

• you mumbled, your lips trembling as you tried to bite back your sobs

• his expression softened at your words, pulling you into his embrace, stroking your hair

• ”i know. but exhausting yourself is only going to make it harder for you to catch up.”

• ”let's take a break, okay? you need to rest, let your mind calm down first.”

• you felt him pull away from you, his hand wiping your tears away

• ”how about we go for a walk outside? some fresh air would help, i think.”

• you thought for a bit before nodding. you definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done while you were in this state.

• he finally let a small smile break free, standing up, moving to get your shoes for you

“An ice cream could help too, i've heard. and there's a parlour that just opened up, down the street. i think it's fate.”

⋆˚࿔ Seonghwa

• "are you okay?"

• he asked softly, worry lacing his tone as he watched your sullen figure drop down onto the couch.

• "I'm okay."

• your curt response came out as if it was clockwork, removing your bag before burying your face into the comforter

• you obviously weren't. Well, it'd been like that for a while now

• he sighed before coming over to you on the couch. He knelt down and reached out to take off your shoes which you forgot to

• you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling guilty

• "i got it...-" "Let me."

• you paused before laying back down, feeling a bit nervous at his tone of voice. Was he mad?

• "I'm sorry... it's just lately everything's been going downhill..."

• you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as you let your emotions of the past week finally weigh you down

• "i c-can't seem to do anything right and...i can't muster up energy for anything...i.."

• you sniffled, waiting for a response. He didn’t reply, instead placing your shoes neatly to the side before standing up and sitting down next to you on the couch.

• "Hwa..."

• a tear rolled down your face as he wrapped his arms around you, resting your head beneath his chin.

• it was incredible how the warmth of his embrace contrasted the gloominess you've been feeling all week.

• "I'm not mad. Why would I be?"

• he spoke quietly, his eyes shutting for a moment, his hand tracing patterns on your back

• "and you know... people don't always have to be okay..."

• "if that were the case then, i think we'd be superhumans..."

• you let out a laugh at his words, feeling your heart lighten slightly

• "i guess..."

• he smiled at the pleasant sound, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand moving to wipe your tears away.

• "so don't put yourself down, i won't let you."

• he whispered, his expression gentle yet firm before pulling you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

• "I'm still gonna worry though. Because I'm a human, a human who happened to be really really really in love with you."

• you chuckled, feeling exasperated yet so so light hearted

"Well, then...this human loves you too, a lot."

⋆˚࿔ Yunho.

• exams were coming up.

• and with exams came all nighters.

• you knew it wasn't healthy at all but your brain refused to listen to you, conjuring up various 'what ifs' each one, bleak.

• yes, exam seasons usually had you stressed.

• he knew it too.

• don't get him wrong, he knew you'd do well (with you being one of the most hardworking people he knows, there was no doubt about that)

• but he knew you couldn't help it. Despite all the assurances, a small part of you always doubted if your efforts were enough

• and he was worried. Of course, he was but he couldn't push you to take breaks even when he knew you needed it

• because he thought it'd be better to be distant than to have you completely shut him out

• but he wasn't sure anymore.

• even more so when he came upon you staring down at your books with teary eyes. You couldn't take it anymore.

• "I'm just so tired"

• you sobbed, burying your face into his chest. He had carried you to the bed from your desk, despite your protests but now you were glad that he did.

• "i know, love."

• he whispered, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, his heart clenching at the sound of your sobs. How could he have let it get this bad?

• but one thing was sure, he wasn't about to let you go through this alone.

• "Take a break, hm?" "But i...-"

• "No buts."

• he replied firmly, his expression showing his worry

• "Baby, it's admirable, it really is...you work so hard and I'm so proud of you..."

• "but I'm worried."

• he mumbled, his voice soft and low, tightening his hold on you

• your words faltered as you sensed the genuine concern in his voice, a twinge of guilt washing over you.

• "You always seem so tired and i...i can't help but feel frustrated for not being able to do anything..."

• his tone was soft, holding you close as if he feared losing you.

• "i don't want anything to happen to you..."

• you heart clenched at the tone of fear in his voice. you felt him lean back, taking your face into his hands carefully

• ”no matter how important it is, pushing yourself beyond the point of breaking will never do you any good.”

•he whispered, his voice quiet as he stroked your face gently

•you stayed silent for a moment, his words going through your mind. you could feel the toll these last few days had on your body. crashing out wouldn't be far at this point.

•so you nodded, reluctantly agreeing, not wanting to worry him any longer and also because you knew you needed this.

•he smiled, seeing you agree (although reluctant) relief coursing through him finally.

“Good. Now, how about some tea? I'll…let you get back to it after a break and this time, I'll help you.”

⋆˚࿔ Yeosang.

• something was wrong.

• he wasn't used to seeing you so...pensive.

• that slight slumping of your shoulders, the way you zone out mid-convos and the quiet sighs that escapes you whenever you think no one's looking

• no, he definitely noticed. It was so unlike you and...he wasn't sure how to react.

• would you be mad if he were to bring this up?

• or would you pretend like there was

nothing wrong?

• he knows that you value your independence very much, often preferring to deal with things on your own

• he respects that and doesn't push in anyway, not wanting to make you uncomfortable

• but he'd also feel a bit guilty (thought it was never his fault) feeling like he was failing as a boyfriend for just watching from the sidelines while you struggled

• though initially, he'd be a bit hesitant and cautious when approaching the matter

• he wouldn't directly confront you but lets you know that he's there for you

• "I'm here, if you want to talk."

• he'll also try to distract you with other activities, whether if it's like a walk in the park or a simply game

• he'll try his best to keep the atmosphere quiet and positive so you'll be able to relax your mind even if it's just a little

• and when you finally open up to him, he listens.

• he doesn't really respond in between and just lets you rant while listening intently

• and you know he is from the way his hand gently squeezes yours in assurance whenever you come to a pause, letting you know that whatever you were feeling was valid

• he isn't that big on physical affection but won't hesitate to shower you in it if you were to ask

• he's just a green flag over all

"I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be here."

⋆˚࿔ San.

• "come here."

• you hesitantly glanced at him before immediately looking away once you met his eyes. How does he know you so well?

• "choi y/n, come. here."

• he repeated, his tone a bit more firm now, spreading his arms wide and looking at you expectantly

• "what's with the choi?"

• you sighed, half-laughing, but you walked towards him, your emotions bubbling up again.

• "you own my heart, so you might as well take my last name too."

• he said softly with a small smile as you finally stepped into his arms.

• "seriously..."

• you mumbled, your voice breaking towards the end as you pressed your face into his chest, tears starting to flow again

• "there we go..."

• he guided you to the couch before sitting beside you. He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into him and gently ran his fingers through your hair, whispering.

• "you did a good job, hm? I'm so proud of you."

• "it doesn't feel like that though..."

• you laughed. his words, though comforting, stung a bit, reminding you of your failures yet again

• he frowned, picking upon on the hint of self depreciation in your tone

• "how dare you say that about the love of my life? Do you have any idea how much they mean to me?"

• he spoke, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand reaching up to pinch your cheeks

• "what're you on about?"

• you chuckled, avoiding his hand, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated at his sudden burst out

• "I'm serious, my love's the best, the smartest, the kindest, the most hardworking, the prettiest...the list goes on..."

• he continued, his voice firm as he made you face him, wiping your tears away

• "but you know what i like the most about them?"

• he asked, his expression softening considerably

• "they never give up. no matter how hard it gets, no matter what anyone else says, they never give up, because they know that they can get through it..."

• he stroked your face, his eyes never leaving yours, the genuineness in them halting your breath for a moment

• "I know you can..."

• you felt your heart tighten at his words, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. You hugged him again, tears forming again.

• "why do you always have to be so nice? I hate you..."

• you sobbed, though there was no real heat behind your words

• he chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly

"It's okay, in return, I have lots of love to give you..."

⋆˚࿔ Mingi.

• he knew that things have been rough for you lately

• while he was worried, he wasn't sure to how to bring it up without making you feel even worse

• so he had hoped you'd come to him first

• though nothing prepared him for the sight of you sobbing into your hands infront of him, when you did

• initially he was at a loss as to what to do (it's that T in him)

• but he could feel his heart breaking as he watched you desperately trying to wipe your tears away which seemed to be flowing endlessly at that moment

• instantly he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly like he wanted to shield you from whatever that was hurting you

• "I'm sorry..."

• you weren't sure what he was apologising for and neither was he

• though he wasn't good with words in this situation, he was there for you

• and he hoped you'd know it too

"don't hold back your tears, just let it all out. I'm here."

⋆˚࿔ Wooyoung

• he’s been walking on eggshells the entire week and he wasn't sure how long he could he take it

• your obvious avoidance of him, the curt texts, (hell, he'd prefer it more if you argued with him than this) it was all getting ridiculous

• so, what was the next step? obviously, confronting you.

• though it wasn't going like how he expected it to go.

• ”I'm sorry, i thought it'd be better to avoid you than to let you get affected too”

• you mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse as you brought your blanket covering you, closer

• your face was red, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you supported yourself on the wall.

• these past few weeks had taken a toll on you, worse than you thought and before you knew it, you had a fever.

• ”Affect me-...are you serious?”

• he spoke before he could stop himself. really? that's what you've been worried about?

• “I've been worried sick! you think I'd care about some damn germs?”

• you fell silent, feeling a bit guilty now.

• he huffed as if he was in disbelief. he wanted to say more but paused, his eyes falling on your pale face

• he sighed before stepping in, his hands reaching for your face.

• “you're burning up…”

• he muttered, worry lacing his tone as he supported you, making sure to close the door before leading you to your living room, sitting you down on the couch

• you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you watched him bustle around your apartment

• it was weird, seeing him so serious like this, different from his usual playful self

• and it only made you more guilty for worrying him

• ”I'm sorry…”

• he paused, hearing your words, his movements slowing down as he closed the door to your shelf after retrieving the medicine

• “you know? these past few days, I was wondering whether I did something. I couldn't figure it out.”

• he spoke up, returning to the couch, kneeling infront of you, placing a hand on your lap

• “besides, what if you were in your death bed? of course i need to be here.”

• he added, a small smirk forming on his face

• “Hey!”

• you countered, your eyes wide, hitting his shoulder making him laugh out a small ‘sorry!’, lightening the mood slightly

• “no but seriously, you should've told me you were sick. i would've came running.”

• “you always take care of me when I'm sick. I want to do the same…”

• he muttered, his playfulness dissolving into softness, his hand squeezing yours gently

• you felt your heart melt at his words, warmth coursing through you, the pleasant kind this time.

• “Alright then, can you…make me your special chicken soup?”

• you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. you’ve been craving it actually.

• his smile returned even more brightly as he stood up, turning to make his way to your kitchen

“I'll make you the damn best chicken soup you're gonna ever have! You won't even need medicine cause it's gonna heal you up right away.”

⋆˚࿔ Jongho

• he knew you were having a rough week

• considering how moody you've seemed lately and you also didn't talk much

• and you were usually the 'affectionate' one in your relationship so the lack of it made him pause

• he was concerned, obviously, but didn't voice it directly or push you to open up

• he trusted that you'd come to him if there was something

• however, it seems like you finally reached your breaking point

• he regretted not talking to you sooner when he came home to you crying one day

• he immediately engulfs you into his embrace.

• you seemed a bit surprised to see him, not expecting him to come back so early

• and you felt bad to burden him with your emotions, surely he had a lot on his plate as well-

• "stupid, you should be worrying about yourself."

• he mumbled, his voice annoyed yet... concerned, pulling you closer when you tried to move away.

• he won't respond with words when you start to pour your worries out

• but you know he's listening with the gentle but assuring squeezes he gave your hand whenever you come to a pause

• well, it wasn't like he really had to talk when his embrace spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

“Don't feel bad for feeling bad, you don't always have to be okay, it's completely normal.”

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Well- Tailored Affair

Alastor x female! reader

Summary: Being The Radio Demon's one and only personal tailor has it own perks.

A/N- Sorry I have been gone for quite some time!! But I'm back, I had NOOOOOO idea what to write and this thought came to me mid sleep at like 12am So anyways I hope you enjoy!

ALSO this was gonna proofread because I didn't have time and I missed yall so sorry if it sucks 💀

Being a tailor in Hell was no small feat, especially when your main client was none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. When you first took the job, you didn’t expect it to be much of a challenge working with his specific tastes. But over time, you came to know him like the back of your hand.

Today, he was scheduled for a fitting. He had dropped off a newer jacket last week but he said he had business to attend to and he'd come back next week and that was today. As always, the atmosphere of your small shop—which wasn’t far from the hotel—was calm and cozy. You were currently cross-stitching a dress for Rosie for some type of event in Cannibal Town when, suddenly, the bell above the door jingled. There he was. Alastor stepped inside with his signature grin, accompanied by the hum of radio static. The aura he carried was palpable. The moment he entered, you could feel the air shift.

"Ah, my favorite tailor!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide before resting his hands on the microphone in front of him. With a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Have you missed me?"

You chuckled softly, stepping away from your work and already reaching for the measuring tape. "You were here last week, Alastor. Hardly enough time to miss anyone." You smiled. His grin didn’t falter, though you didn’t notice how his crimson eyes lingered on you longer than usual. Truth be told, Alastor liked you. More than he should, and more than he realized. Part of it was the trust he placed in you to handle his precious suits, which were such a vital part of who he was. But it was also because you treated them with such grace. You knew what you were doing and were exceptional at it. Not to mention, you were one of the rare souls in Hell who wasn’t afraid of him. And lastly, you were undeniably pretty—he thought that too.

"Ah, but a week without your company is an eternity, my dear," Alastor replied. You brushed off his words with a smile. He often gave small, sweet compliments about your work and how he missed you, so this wasn’t anything new. Yet today, his words seemed to carry a different meaning.

You rolled your eyes playfully, motioning for him to step onto the fitting platform. In front of him was a large mirror—he loved checking his reflection to ensure he always looked impeccable. "Alright, charmer, let’s see what we’re working with today. Did you tear another sleeve during one of your dramatics?" you teased, looking from the sleeve up into his eyes.

He let out a melodic laugh. "Guilty as charged! I simply cannot help myself. Life—or afterlife, rather—demands a flair for the theatrical!"

As you worked, your hands expertly adjusted the fabric of his jacket. You noticed his gaze drifting to you frequently. At first, you thought he might be scrutinizing your technique, but no—this was different. His grin softened ever so slightly whenever he thought you weren’t looking. Watching your focused expression gave him an odd fluttering sensation, almost like butterflies in his stomach.

"You’re very precise," he remarked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Kind of comes with the job," you replied with a smile, pinning a sleeve in place. "Can’t have the Radio Demon walking around in anything less than perfection, right?"

"Indeed. And you, my dear, are perfection. I must confess, I’ve never trusted anyone else with my suits. You have an extraordinary talent."

You paused, caught off guard by the bold confession—especially coming from him. "Thank you, Alastor. That means a lot," you said, grabbing the needle and thread.

"And," he added, tilting his head as though studying a particularly fascinating piece of art, "it doesn’t hurt that you’re quite easy on the eyes." Was he kidding? He had to be, right? Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you nearly dropped the pin you were holding. "Oh! Uh, thanks."

He noticed your reaction and chuckled, clearly amused. "Did I fluster you? My, my, how delightful!" Alastor grinned, watching you through the mirror. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. "Stop moving," you muttered, focusing on adjusting the flaps on his suit. You finished stitching up the rip on his sleeve with a clean, neat stitch—it was a relatively easy fix.

The silence grew heavy until he broke it. "You’re one of the only few who doesn’t fear me, you know… It’s refreshing."

"Well, I figured if you were going to do something to me, you would’ve done it already," you replied with a smirk, stepping back to admire your work. Alastor’s grin widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I find your company far too enjoyable to spoil."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Alright, smooth talker, you’re good to go. You can come and pick it up in 24 hours." You watched as he stepped down from the platform, adjusted his jacket, the one he came in with and turned to face you. "Splendid! I’ll be counting the seconds until I see your lovely presence again!" He started toward the door but paused, looking back over his shoulder with that ever-present grin. "Oh, and my dear, do save a moment for tea when I return. I’d like to enjoy more of your delightful company." You smiled, shaking your head. "You better not rip your coat on purpose in the next 24 hours!" you shouted after him.

You heard his laugh echo as he left, leaving you standing in the middle of your shop, flustered and smiling despite yourself. Maybe being Alastor’s tailor wasn’t so bad after all.

[igbylicious]

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt13

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: San goes on a little journey of self-discovery with you.

wc: 14k

ch. warnings: sub San, switch / dom reader & Wooyoung, like 5 sec of manhandling & dryhumping, shibari / bondage, praise kink, body worship, cock-warming, orgasm denial, finger sucking, oral, dacryphilia, DVP (fingers & cock), creampie, cum play, Wooyoung fucks San’s tiddies, cum shot (on those same tiddies), multiple orgasms, condomless sex w/ an IUD, San is called ‘good boy’, reader is called ‘baby’ & ‘good girl’, one encounter of amatonormativity from a well-intentioned neighbour, potential second-hand embarrassment

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so wide and bright he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.

You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different flavour from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; Wooyoung asked for this one,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.

“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting back to his normal voice, “but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”

“Fine fine, this is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “If he complains, I’m telling him it’s your fault!”

And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.

It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.

At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.

“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.

Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.

“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”

“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”

But San has been teaching you. Eagerly, even.

From the moment you expressed an interest, San happily jumped on the chance to pass on his knowledge of bondage. He does teach for a living, after all; and though ropework is obviously a far cry from taekwondo, he instructed you with the same enthusiasm that he has for his students.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung happily volunteered himself as a practice subject. Sometimes he’d nag at you, so used to San’s skilful fingers that yours set off his impatience — but for the most part, Wooyoung proved unexpectedly useful, his candid feedback making it easier to get a feel for judging rope tension.

And although you’d first meant it as a joke to tease San, now you do actually feel an itch in your fingers.“So… could we? Practise some more today?” you ask, lowering your voice, keeping your words vague on purpose, although none of the staff or other customers are paying you any mind.

“Today?” San says, lines crinkling between his brows. “Ah, I don’t know, Wooyoung will be out to the movies with Yeosang later…”

“He’s going without you?” you ask, distracted by the new piece of information. “What, have you been hoarding Sangie too much to yourself again?”

San’s bottom lip juts into a pout. “I don’t hoard him, I’m just not into the movie!” he protests, so earnestly that you wonder if he really believes it, or if he’s forgotten about the time you saw him clinging onto Wooyoung’s childhood friend for an entire game night, stubborn in his attempts to lay a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.

(Yeosang’s dramatic aversion to his friends’ kisses always gets a giggle out of you. He can’t fool you; you know from experience that San and Wooyoung would cut it out if he really minded it that much.)

“Though I guess we don’t need Woo,” San muses, smoothly turning the subject away from the Yeosang-hoarding allegations. “You could try some stuff on yourself, feel first-hand what you’re doing.”

“…Or I could practice on you…?” you suggest, half playful, half probing.

San blinks in surprise, like the thought had not occurred to him — but the conversation is put on a temporary halt when it’s your turn to check out your groceries. He frowns while packing everything up, thoughtful but also tentative, like it’s the first time he’s ever even considered to let someone tie him up.

San’s frown has faded by the time you step out of the store, but he still has a quiet, contemplative look on his face.

“No pressure, obviously,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. “About the practice thing. It was just a thought.”

“No no! It’s…” San shakes his head and gives you a small grin. “You know what? Let’s try it. Put your knowledge to the test!”

“Right,” you grin back at him, a little spring in your step as you walk back home together. There’s a gleam in San’s eyes too, growing brighter as he gets more and more used to the idea of trying something new with you.

It’s just a short walk back to the apartment building, where you come across your downstairs neighbour at the elevator; Mrs Yoon, a tiny old lady carrying a package that looks far too big and heavy for her.

San, ever the gentleman, immediately passes one of his grocery bags over to you and takes the box from Mrs Yoon.

“Always such a nice, helpful boy,” she coos over San, tip-toeing to reach and pinch his cheek. Mrs Yoon somewhat resembles a shrivelled apple, small and round and wrinkled — but any conversation proves that she’s still got plenty of juice left in her.

“Does he take such good care of you too?” she asks you, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m sure he does, I can tell he’s great… ‘Boyfriend material’, that’s the word you young folk use nowadays, isn’t it?”

You flinch briefly, but recover fast. It’s not like this is the first time people have made assumptions about you and San, or you and Wooyoung. Hell, you and Hongjoong used to deal with this too. Through necessity you have cultivated a certain degree of resigned patience for these situations.

Still, it was long enough that San beats you to the punch, shaking his head at Mrs Yoon with a friendly smile. “No, Mrs Yoon, I’m—” he starts, but hesitates when a clear alternative fails to present itself.

It doesn’t matter anyway; she easily breezes past San’s protest. “And the other handsome young man, of course! I had not forgotten, don’t worry,” she says with a cheeky grin of joyful wrinkles, her giggle like a reedy cackle. “I heard the three of you spending your time together well.”

San’s cheeks go completely beet red, for a split-second you’re confused by his embarrassment — but then it sinks in what Mrs Yoon meant by having ‘heard’ you.

She heard you, just like you used to hear San and Wooyoung.

You stammer an apology, but she waves it off. “Oh hush,” she says firmly. “I was young once too, I know what it’s like. Good on you kids, you need to enjoy it while you can! It’s alright to have a little extra fun.”

The elevator dings as it reaches Mrs Yoon’s floor, and San almost trips over his feet as he walks her to her apartment to take the heavy package inside. You awkwardly wait for him to get back, embarrassment still flowing hotly in your veins. San does not look much better off when he shuffles back into the elevator, wordlessly taking back the grocery bag he passed over to you earlier so he could help your old, lively neighbour.

He clears his throat, trying for an easygoing grin. “For the record, I have been informed that Mrs Yoon very much enjoys the silence when she turns her hearing aid off, and doesn’t mind doing so at all.”

“Oh god,” you groan, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands — except maybe sink through the elevator floor, letting yourself plummet straight to the bottom and down into the very core of the earth.

“At least she’s cool about non-monogamy?” San tries for a crooked smile, though redness still blooms across his cheeks. “Though I guess she only has half the right idea of us.”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, still mulling on San’s earlier moment of speechlessness.

San frowns, concern gleaming in his eyes at your timid response. “You okay?” he asks; San is not unbothered by assumptions about the three of you either, but he knows they hit a little differently for you.

“Oh, yeah, yes I’m okay. I’m used to this stuff,” you say, and part of you hates how true that is. “It just kinda hit me that I don’t know what the ‘right’ idea about us is. Or how to put it into words, at least. We never really bothered to define much, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” he says, opening the door to his apartment. “…I thought you preferred it that way? Not trying too hard to fit ourselves into a label?”

“True, true,” you admit, stepping inside. (You faintly hear Wooyoung’s voice from the living area.) “And I still don’t want to force anything. It’s just… inconvenient sometimes, you know.”

How would you describe San and Wooyoung? Your friends? Well, yes, but you don’t feel like that covers the full scope of things in this context. Partners? Too… formal. Definitely not your boyfriends. No matter what word pops up in your head, it chafes; nothing fits as smoothly as a simple ‘your San’ and ‘your Wooyoung’.

San glances over his shoulder as he hauls the grocery bags into the living area, raising an eyebrow at you. “Inconvenient for us, or inconvenient for other people?” he asks pointedly. “If we’re happy with how we do things, or what we call them, it’s not our problem if others get confused.”

You blink at San. “…Damn. Good point.”

“I make those sometimes!”

“Of course, some people try their damn best to turn it into our problem.”

“Shush. Don’t take this away from me,” San chides, but he quiets when he realises Wooyoung is talking to someone on video call. Wooyoung gives you a distracted wave, but stays focused on his conversation. Something about his most recent crafts project, customising an old jacket.

“Yeah, I saw the pictures, it looks good, I like how you placed the lettering,” the voice from Wooyoung’s phone says — and you break out into a smile when you recognise that voice, all else forgotten.

“Joong!” you say, wrapping a loose arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders as you slide up behind him, stoked to see your oldest friend on the screen. He’s currently rocking cranberry red hair, matched with a grungy blazer, and grins when he sees you.

You embrace this chance for a brief but lively surprise meeting, always missing Hongjoong; even if he did come over for a visit just a few weeks ago.

During that time, he and Wooyoung rapidly developed the type of friendship where you’re not always sure if Hongjoong adores Wooyoung to absolute bits, or if he wants to stick him behind the wallpaper. (Though today clearly is an adoration day.) San is still a little quiet around Hongjoong, anxious for approval from your best friend, so he shyly hangs around in the back while you and Wooyoung chat/bicker with Hongjoong.

It’s not too long before the call ends, some work schedule thing forcing Hongjoong to leave. Work has kept him real busy lately, and you quietly resolve to send him a little care package this week.

Once Hongjoong disappears from his phone’s screen, Wooyoung turns to you.

“What was that talk earlier when you guys came back? Sounded kinda serious. Were you overthinking again?”

“I wasn’t overthi—! …Okay, yeah fine maybe I was,” you admit.

“About what?”

“Labels,” San pipes up from the kitchenette. “Hey, you gonna help me out here?”

“Sorry, yeah!” You join San to properly finish up the chore of grocery shopping together, and smile when you find one packet of spicy noodles between the milder ones as you put them away.

Wooyoung’s face wrinkles up. “You were overthinking labels? I thought you were on my side about those.”

(Like you, Wooyoung also does not feel a strong need to confine your relationship within strict definitions. San is the most traditional-minded out of your trio when it comes to these things; but he values happiness over conformity a million times over, content to let the issue rest for your and Wooyoung’s comfort.)

“I am, I am!” you say. “Mrs Yoon just punted me into a five-second long spiral when she pretty much called San my boyfriend and we didn’t know how to correct her. I’ve unspiralled already, I swear! Crisis over before it even started.”

“No, fair enough,” Wooyoung allows. “‘My non-romantic life partner who I fuck on the regular’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”

“Nope. But…” You trail off, recognising an opportunity to smoothly slide into a topic that crossed your mind recently. “‘My neighbour’ is also technically correct, I suppose,” you say cheekily, smiling when San instantly grouses at the distant, casual term, “but who’s to say we’ll be neighbours forever? I mean, it’d be cool to at least upgrade to ‘roommates’ someday, right?”

For a split moment, the guys are struck silent by the suggestion. Not that long ago, it would’ve been enough to punt you into another five-second spiral, fretting whether you massively misjudged the situation — but it’s not enough anymore. You’re steadier than that by now, secure in your place within this barely-defined relationship.

And surely a gradual smile breaks out on Wooyoung’s face like in slow-motion, his eyes shining in delight. You let out an ‘umph’ when two strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, San’s reassuring weight settling against you.

“Yeah. That’d be cool,” San murmurs as he pulls you firmly into him, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.

“Hadn’t expected you to be the one to bring that up,” Wooyoung says, his teasing grin undermined by the softness drawn into his face.

You lean back into San with a little scoff, rolling your eyes half-playfully, half-serious. “Hey c’mon, stop acting like I’ll bolt at the tiniest whiff of commitment! I’ve proven enough by now that you guys are stuck with me, right?”

“Okay okay,” San says with a laugh, “we’ll try to stop treating you like a flight risk! It’s just— Me and Woo talked about this like, a few days ago.”

“Pff, ‘talked’?” Wooyoung huffs, coming over to put an arm around San, who still has his arms around you. “What San means is he picked a fight with me about it.”

“A fight?!” You turn your head to look back at them, blinking in confusion.

“A real stupid one too!”

“Hey, don’t say it like that, she’s gonna get the wrong idea!” San protests. “It was just a misunderstanding is all!”

“Guys…”

“All I said was that the apartment is feeling a bit small these days, that next time we should look for something bigger, a better fit for us!” Wooyoung sighs. “There I was, trying to throw you a hint, but you just started sulking and grumbling at me like I’d already packed my bags to move out and abandon her the next day!”

“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face at San’s abashed disgruntlement.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “He got so cross at the idea of not being neighbours that he didn’t even bother to actually listen to what I was saying. Why do you think the apartment felt too damn small, you idiot?”

“Just didn’t sit right with me,” San mumbles. “The idea of not living next to each other. Or with each other. Not being close.”

“Which is why I brought it up,” Wooyoung says, poking at San’s cheek. “I thought we should talk about it before becomes a thing.” His eyes flicker to you, seriousness smoothing over his face. “So yeah, you beat us to the punch. It’s not like I’m in a rush or got it all planned out or anything, I mean I just moved here, but… I don’t know, did we get lazy? About us, about figuring stuff out?”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you listen to them, but Wooyoung’s question brings you a little closer back down to earth.

“Maybe? Yeah, maybe we did get complacent,” you admit. Nothing wrong with not labelling things but… “We never really bothered to sit down and talk things through after the whole ‘hey, let’s stick together for a long time’ talk, yeah. Never talked about what that actually looks like.”

“We were too busy enjoying the moment to think ahead, yeah,” San says with a breathy chuckle, clutching a little tighter onto you.

“To be fair,” Wooyoung says, a grin returning to his lips, “the moments have been pretty damn great. So… does that settle it? Next place we move into, we move in together? Something nice and a little bigger, with an extra bedroom so you got your own space?”

“For someone who doesn’t have it all planned out, you sure put a lot of thought into it,” you giggle, reaching a hand to find Wooyoung’s. “Yeah. That settles it.”

“So. You got upset at the thought of not living next to me, huh?” You give San a cheeky grin, unable to resist teasing him about earlier. “That’s cute.”

You’re both kneeling on his bed, some soft music playing in the background. Dressed for comfort, San is wearing his grey sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt — and you just finished tying a rope around his wrists, after he took you through a refresher of some basics. San was in the middle of diligently inspecting your work, but your teasing has knocked him straight out of teacher mode, into pouty mode.

“Shut up, Wooyoung wasn’t as obvious about his ‘hints’ as he made it sound,” he sulks. He looks back down on the rope, then gives you a heavy side-eye. “…Did you wait on purpose to make fun of me until I was tied up?”

“No way, I’d never make fun of you for being cute,” you say matter-of-factly.

San squints suspiciously at your tone, trying to figure out if you are, in fact, making fun of him again.

“Okay but seriously, does this feel alright?” you ask, squeezing his bound hands. San had stayed mostly quiet when you tied him up; you don’t need much instruction anymore for basic knots — but you did catch a few steadying breaths from him, the bondage clearly having some effect on San.

“It’s… different,” he says hesitantly.

“Need me to take them off?” you ask at once, ready to pry the knot loose, but San shakes his head.

“No, no, they can stay on. It just—” San frowns, struggling for words. “It’s just not my usual thing,” he eventually settles on. “Letting go of control… It’s not exactly my strong point.”

“Ah, so this is not just practice for me, but for you too!” you tease, but you rub a reassuring thumb over his knuckles as you do so. Curiosity nags at you, and you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you first suggested using him as your guinea pig. “…Is this your first time getting tied up?”

“I used to practice on myself, way back, but other than that? Yeah, first time.” San chuckles at your contemplative expression. “What’s with that face? It can’t be a surprise that a dom doesn’t get tied up on the regular, can it?”

You shrug. “I mean, you’re usually in charge, yeah; being submissive is clearly not your go-to. But never? I don’t know, the few times we mixed things up… you enjoyed it, right? Like the morning after I stayed over? You can’t tell me you weren’t into getting spoiled like that!”

San gives a little head-tilt, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “I was,” he allows with a tiny smile, bursting with memories. “It… it’s nice when I really need it, I guess.”

His answer churns inside you for a moment, and you mislike the way it settles in your stomach. It’s true; San rarely is submissive unless stress or exhaustion has gotten to him.

“Um, San? Listen, I won’t push anything on you,” you say, carefully, feeling especially cognisant of the fact you have him tied up with nowhere to go. “But… you know you don’t have to need it, right? I’m more than happy to switch things up when you want to. Same for Wooyoung, I’m sure!”

San goes quiet, looking down at his bound wrists like he’s searching for some epiphany in the place where rope presses against his skin.

You smile faintly, and raise a soft hand to cup his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? No wrong answers.”

San’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles into your palm. He sighs, something releasing inside him. Letting go of just a tiny scrap of control, maybe.

“Want to take it off now?” you ask, and untie the knot when San nods quietly.

“…I did like the feel of the rope,” San admits after you finish, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “I… I liked how it felt to have someone else put it on me.”

A sweet, gentle bloom swells up inside you. “I’m glad,” you smile back at San. “I liked practising on you.”

“Maybe,” he starts slowly, giving you a bashful look like he’s embarrassed by what he is about to say next, “maybe we don’t need to be done practising? Do you want to try something else?”

Now there’s an offer you can hardly refuse.

San’s suggestion is a little more complex than a simple restriction of the wrists, so you go and grab him some water while he pulls up a few visual references on his phone to show you what the end-goal looks like. When you step back into the bedroom, San has pulled off his t-shirt, waiting for you with a dimpled smile and his bare upper body at your disposal.

There is always something magnetic about San’s impressive physique; but now the musculature draws you in more than ever, knowing you’ll be working so closely to it, demanding your full attention.

“Show-off,” you mumble, rolling your eyes like you aren’t fighting off heat rising to your cheeks.

“What, want me to put my shirt back on?” San asks, his smile curving into a cocky grin.

“…No.”

With the matter of San’s shirt settled, you sink back into the ropework together.

You get why San likes it. The shared intimacy, drawing closer to one another with every hitch or knot. The focused methodology behind it, how the world seems to disappear into nothing but the rope in your hands and the person you use it on, allowing all else to fade from your mind. You’ve always felt there is something meditative about the act of being tied up, but now you realise the reversal is also true.

After all your previous practising, you start to fall into a trained rhythm; you used to get frustrated with your own clumsiness, but now your fingers mostly remember what they are supposed to do.

Still, this new endeavour is a little trickier than a simple cuff around the wrists and so San speaks up more often, guiding you through the steps;

“Careful with placement, we don’t want to pinch anything here. Yes, yes that’s good, Pull the pressure down, we’re always going down the arm. That’s it, you got it. Little tighter. Yep, little more. Don’t be scared the cinch is too much, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”

A few simple lines of rope are laid around the width of San’s upper torso, hugging his pecs and providing a basis for you to work a ladder tie down the length of his arm. As you relax into the looping pattern, so does San. He falls quiet again, drawing deep, slow breaths as he intently follows the movement of your hands, his eyes gleaming with cat-like curiosity.

When you finish the first of San’s arms, tying the last hitch above his wrist and locking off the rope, you draw back a little to fully take in the result.

It’s interesting; bondage often has a way of making Wooyoung look smaller than he is, like all his boundless energy is snugly contained within the corded restraints. But for San, it’s the polar opposite.

The shibari accentuates the broadness of his chest and shoulders; his muscles bulge under the looping pattern whenever he moves, like he is bursting at the seams. Heated pressure builds in your abdomen at the sight of him, then your eyes wander down to San’s wrist.

There’s a fair bit of tail end to the rope, dangling down his wrist as leftover after that last hitch — and you’d worried it would take away from the aesthetics of the shibari, but instead the length of rope lures you in, whispering for you to grab the end and pull, tugging San closer to you. To test the power he emits; whether he would submit regardless of physical strength.

“Still got another arm to go,” San reminds you, a teasing glint in his eyes at how distracted you are by his appearance. But his voice is low and husky, your distracted state also causing a sharp heat to coil tightly inside him.

Though you still make sure to be safe and precise, the brush of your fingers over San’s other arm is not as relaxed this time around.

The heat radiating from his skin somehow feels warmer than before, his gaze burning into your hands as you work. San’s breaths grow heavier with every corded loop around his arm, and he is visibly antsy by the time you finish up at his wrist — and now you don’t resist your earlier urges. With a playful grin, you take both ends of the rope in your hands and give them a soft tug, just to tease.

San grunts as you pull him in closer, fiery intensity crackling around him, and the grin is wiped right off your face when he bites his lip, hooded eyes piercing straight through you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, shifting your thighs and all too aware of the wetness gathering between them, “Wooyoung’d go crazy if he saw you right now.”

(You distantly wonder what time it is; how much longer until Wooyoung steps back out that cinema. There’s decent odds he’ll head straight home, knowing you and San are practising without him.)

San’s lips curve sharply. “Yeah? I look hot like this?” he baits.

“Ugh, you are so needy,” you say, but the flustered laugh in your voice belies the reprimand. “Yes, you look good. Wooyoung would fold within the blink of an eye.” (You would fold even faster.) “He better get home soon, he’s gonna be so fucking upset if he misses out on this.”

“Serves him right for being such a damn brat lately,” San huffs, though there is an eager twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be like that!” You shake your head with another laugh, then move off the bed and beckon San onto his feet. “Come, see for yourself how hot you look.”

Still holding onto the rope-ends at San’s wrists, you lead him towards the mirror, and San follows with a slow smile. He barely even spares his own reflection a glance, too distracted by your hands, the subtle control emitted by your loose grip on the rope.

His fingers twitch, and then San catches you by surprise by yanking his own hands back, throwing you off balance. You release the rope with a squeak and stumble forward — but before you can bump into San, his hands find your hips and you let out a soft ‘umph’ as he pins you against the wall, the mirror now completely ignored.

“Don’t need to see,” San breathes, his chest pressing up against yours. “Can tell plain as day from your reaction.” Even through your clothes you can feel the press of rope and warmth radiating off of him. It’s like you’re caged in by a wall of heat, his fingers solidly pressing into your waist. San leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as his gaze flutters down to your lips, his head tilting ever so slightly. The intent to kiss is more than obvious, but San waits, leaving that final step to you.

Your head is in a daze, still a little stunned from the sudden switch-up. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t notice how worked up San got from this little experiment — hell, the dampness already soaking through your panties is proof you’ve gotten plenty worked up yourself.

“Yes,” you gasp in answer to his silent question. You can’t remember raising your hand, but suddenly your fingers are tangled into San’s hair and you pull him forward, bridging that tiny gap between your mouths.

He groans lowly, his tongue instantly probing to tease your lips apart into a messy, urgent kiss. You hang onto San for dear life as he kisses you senseless against the wall, every ounce of pent up energy released all at once. He whines into your mouth when you grab onto his ass, at which he roughly grinds into you, guiding you to hook a leg around his waist. The growing hardness of his cock sends sparks through your clothed cunt, and you rut back into him in equal measure, encouraging more whines past his lips.

San’s hands slip underneath your shirt, only breaking the kiss to quickly discard it, and then he is back on you. He is everywhere it feels like, his touch roaming over your heated body, the cords across his arms and torso grazing over your bra and bare skin. You palm at his chest, at the swell of his tits emphasised by the rope you laid there yourself, thumbing at his dark nipples and delighting in the small, desperate noises San makes against your mouth.

“Can you—?” he groans, plying your neck with wet kisses. “Fuck, please— I— I want—”

“S-slow down, Sannie,” you gasp, putting your hands on his waist to steady the roll of his hips. “What is it? Tell me, tell me what you want.”

He whines into your neck, teeth catching against skin, but the desirous fog lifts slightly from San when you cup his cheek and lift him to meet your gaze. He smiles faintly at the eye-contact, fondness melting into his features. His cheeks are flushed — and you are startled to realise it’s not just from arousal. San is self-conscious.

“Want you to tie me up,” he mutters, his eyes breaking away from yours as he presses a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Wanna try it again.”

You blink in surprise, backing away from his lips. “Wait, like tied up tied up? San, are you sure?”

San slowly catches his breath, forcing himself to look you in the eye again. “So fucking sure,” he says, his thumbs drawing slow circles into your waist. “Let’s try it, I trust you. …Besides, it’ll keep us busy until Wooyoung gets back, right?”

“God, you are such a softie,” you laugh breathlessly, amused at how quickly he changed his tune about Wooyoung. “What happened to ‘serves him right’? No conviction whatsoever.”

“Yeah,” he grins, giving a slow roll of his hips. “What are you gonna do about it? Teach me some?”

Fuck. Inviting San to take on a more submissive role had not been entirely selfless on your part — you can’t deny your own excitement over this turn of events — but you had offered it with zero pressure; and definitely no expectation that San might take you up on it the very same evening.

“Hang on, Sannie,” you slow him down again, tempering the heat of the moment. You don’t want him barging face-first into something like this without thinking it through. “You really are sure?”

San’s grin fades into something more serious, giving you the distinct impression he started thinking this through ever since you suggested practising on him back at the grocery store. “Yeah. I’m sure if you’re sure,” he says, looking over you for signs of hesitation on your side.

“Oh, I’m sure!” (In your case, you know for a fact you’ve thought this through ever since that conversation.)

“Good,” he says, cheeks dimpling. “I want this. I want to try this with you.”

The persuasive power of San’s dimples is the final nudge that seals the deal. San brightens with delight when you grab his hand and pull him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down. You have a brief talk about the exact whats and hows; but it’s immediately obvious that you’re on the same wavelength.

(But first you send Wooyoung a vague text, implying it’d be better he doesn’t bring Yeosang over to the apartment for drinks after the movie showing, just in case. He replies quickly, leading you to suspect the movie has already finished, and you answer his 👀 with a short but simple “it’s a secret 🤭”. It’s a lot more civilised than the way you and Wooyoung had clued San in a while back, which San points out with a huff, but you gently shush him and set to work.)

San’s breath shallows as you push him flat down on his back, then spread his arms to tie him to the bedposts. His voice slightly hoarse, San talks you through adjusting the ladder-ties over the length of his arms, making sure they’re still comfortable in the changed position, while he follows your every move with soulful eyes, trying not to fidget.

“Relax,” you murmur after you’re finished, stroking San’s cheek to smooth away his jittery energy. “I got you. Gonna take care of you.”

There is a strange hush in the room as San nods quietly in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows in anticipation. “I know. I’m not nervous,” he says, sighing when you softly kiss his forehead. “I’m just a bit… nervous. But not like that, you know? Like—”

“You know what you are? Rambling,” you laugh fondly, and leave another soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles back at you, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.”

“Hm-hm,” you hum, shaking your head. “Don’t be. You’re just really cute today.”

The rosy flush across San’s cheeks intensifies, proving your point.

“And also,” you say, straddling San so you can drape yourself over his prone, helpless body, “hot as fuck.”

He groans when you press your lips against his, tongues intertwining messily as you deepen the kiss. You’re both still partially clothed, but you will rectify that later. Just want to take your time easing San into it first.

Shudders run through him at even the lightest touch, your fingers teasing along the lengths of rope across his torso, delighting in how he arches up to chase you. Soon any remnants of San’s tension have melted away, pleasure rippling through him wherever your hands go.

San whines when your mouth breaks away from his, kiss-swollen lips pouting up at you, but the sound turns into ragged gasps when you suck a wet path down the freckles on his neck. You briefly nip at the mole on his collarbone, then trail further downward.

He hisses a quiet curse as your tongue flicks over a pebbled nipple, your hands grazing so lightly over his stomach that he twitches underneath. The distinct definition of his abs has faded, ever since he switched up his gym routine a while back.

Honestly, you like it this way. You like feeling the softness of him underneath your palms, and what it signifies.

San might be one of those rare types who genuinely enjoys a rigorous workout — but he has complained his fair share about the strife of maintaining a sixpack. Now it’s like he has relaxed a little, prioritising his own preferences over any attempts to impress you or Wooyoung. Trusting that he impresses just by being himself, following his own way.

Small sighs and moans are steadily escaping past San’s lips, his hands clenching and releasing uselessly as he itches to reach out and touch you back. Clearly his nervous-not-nerves have settled… which means you can start teasing him.

“Let’s get these off, shall we,” you demand, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

San eagerly lifts his hips to help you, exposing his half-hard dick to your touch. Even after all this time, you bite your lip in appreciation at the sight of him, thick and slightly curved, warm but dry in your palm. You lean down, working your jaw for a thick globule of spit to fix that problem. San groans lowly when your fingers curl around the base of his cock and your tongue darts out, slathering him with slow, messy strokes until he is glistening and hard.

You relish San’s hitched breaths, the tilt of his hips as he arches into you. “Ahh fuck, feels good…” he gasps when you lap at his slit, shifting restlessly at your languid pace. He rocks up against your mouth lavishing his hardening cock, trying to convince you to take him inside — but you are in control today, and you have other plans.

San’s hips jerk when your mouth abandons his cock to press a kiss on his thigh, the moan escaping past his lips loud.

“Hm, n-no c’mon, baby—” he whines, hips bucking up as his eyes squeeze shut, a tear clinging to his lashes.

Your eyes widen at the intensity of his response, sending a searing pulse straight down your abdomen. You run a soothing hand over his leg, but the light touch only makes him antsier, body contorting in a desperate attempt to get you back where he needs you. “Fuck, just look at you…” you say in a quiet hush, your thumb rubbing circles over a trio of moles on his inner thigh. “Still doing okay, Sannie?”

The question sobers him up, but only a little, his eyes still dazed with need. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, abashed, like he too is surprised by his own intensity.

“Fuck no, don’t be,” you assure him with a breathy chuckle, rubbing your thighs together restlessly in an attempt to relieve your own tension. “I like seeing you like this. Fucking gorgeous.”

The beautiful flush on his face has crept down his neck and chest, giving him a feverish glow. Muscles ripple underneath the rope harness as he squirms against his bound wrists; all his strength rendered useless, caged underneath you.

San groans at the praise, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like he can’t withstand the force of your reverent gaze — but it doesn’t help him to escape your touch, gentle fingers also expressing their reverence of him as they wrap around his leaking cock again.

Hunger gnaws at you, craving to ravish San until he can’t take it anymore, until he has nothing left to give, every last ounce of pleasure wrested from his body. The glide of your palm over his thick length is easy now, but you keep a deliberate, unhurried pace to slowly drive San up the wall. His small moans and hiccuped breaths send sparks of heat through you. Arousal joined by awe and gratitude; that San lets you see him, have him, like this.

It’s when a lone tear finally escapes San’s lashes that you can’t stand it anymore, breaking away to haphazardly shuck off your clothes. San watches the uncovering of bare skin in a haze, eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you smoothly unclip your bra and throw it aside. His hands flex instinctively as you take a moment to knead at your breasts, reminding him of what he can’t touch.

“Please…” San begs, and his eyes glimmer so sweetly that your resolve to tease him crumbles. There is no denying that soft expression.

San lets out a groan of excitement when you shift forward and lean down. Eagerly he latches onto your chest, suckling and nipping at the soft flesh with noisy enthusiasm, lips smacking wetly as he cranes his neck to smother himself between your breasts. You shudder at his fervour, shakily carding your fingers through his hair in encouragement.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy,” you moan. “Making me feel so good, fuck.” You kiss the top of his head, gasping when he mouths harshly at your nipple, growing rough in his sweet worship. It’s a limited window of opportunity you have given him and San uses it with purpose, devouring as much of you as he can.

You indulge him for a moment longer, indulge yourself, until it is time to remind San who is in charge. He whines when you pull away, trying to follow after the softness of your chest — but the ropes binding him to the bedposts pull taut. San groans in exasperation, like he had forgotten his current predicament entirely, too lost in the pleasure of pleasing you.

“N-no, wanna—” he starts, you put a silencing finger on his lips.

“Behave for me, hm? Can you do that?”

San whines, shifting restlessly underneath you, but he slowly quiets down. “I— I’ll behave,” he says, desperation glittering in his gaze as he looks up at you.

“Good,” you hum, pecking his nose before you rise up and settle back down on his thighs.

Already he looks half-way wrecked, his damp hair mussed up and a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin. His cock is flushed a deep, dark red, resting in a wet patch on his stomach where precum oozes from the tip. Just a light touch of your hand is enough to make San hiss sharply, and the tremors through his body are a clear warning sign of how close he is already. Slowly you push him further, pumping him with firm strokes.

San’s hips jerk up before he can catch himself, his resolve to behave immediately tested. He swears under his breath, pitiful moans spilling past his lips as he manages to regain himself — moans that turn absolutely wretched when he sees how your free hand dips down between your thighs.

You sigh blissfully as you push two fingers inside. They’re sucked in so very easily, your cunt sopping wet without a single touch; to play with San like this is already enough. His breath picks up fast, eyes rolling back at the squelching noises from your hands working in tandem. Every heave of his chest is laboured, his back arching up prettily for you as his moans grow in pitch.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t— M-more, need more,” he whines, futilely tugging at the ropes.

“So greedy,” you say, a slow grin on your lips. “Is my hand not enough for you? You need my cunt too?”

San groans, frustrated and desperate. He’s truly feeling that lack of control by now, unable to reach out and grab your waist. Any other day he would bounce you helplessly on his cock or to flip you over entirely, fucking you so deep and hard you feel him for days after.

But right now? San can’t do any of those things. Instead he’s reduced to a powerless sulk, his thighs twitching underneath you. “Unfair,” he mumbles weakly, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly at your refusal to just give him what he wants.

“Unfair? Are you saying I’m a mean dom?” You gasp in faux-affront, releasing his cock to raise your fingers to your lips, smearing them accidentally-on-purpose with the salty glisten of precum.

He whines at the loss of your hand, trying to buck his hips. “J-just wanna be inside you…”

“Ahh… Well, if that is what you want…” you hum, and languidly slide forward to reposition yourself. San chokes on a moan when you hold onto the base of his cock, find the right angle, and then sink down. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pressure on your walls, stretching you open; two of your fingers are not quite enough to properly loosen yourself up for the girth of San’s thick length — but you welcome the burn, savour how your body is forced to adjust itself to San, gradually accommodating to the shape of him inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, so tight, so fucking—” San rasps, his hands clenching into fists so tight the knuckles whiten. He twitches inside you, tension pulled so taut that for a moment you think he’s going to cum on the spot, but somehow San pulls himself back from the brink.

“Good boy,” you purr, bracing one hand on San’s flushed, heaving chest so you can use the other to wipe his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “Doing so well for me.”

Your fingers trail down the side of his face and to your surprise, San turns his head to suck them into his mouth. He noisily slurps around them with teary eyes, his pleading look shooting straight down to your stuffed cunt. You swallow hard as San’s tongue laves your fingers in wet heat, a messy trail of spittle trickling down his chin when you pull your hand away.

Glistening with San’s saliva, your fingers slide easily through your folds to find your clit. You sigh in bliss as you leisurely rub at the sensitive nub, drinking how San squirms and gasps with every clench around his throbbing cock. His watery eyes are transfixed by the slippery swirl of your fingerpads, unable to look away.

However, even in his hazy state, San quickly realises you’re not actually moving. “H-hey—”

“Uh-uh,” you hum in warning when his hips buck, lightly pinching his nipple. “No rushing things today, Sannie. Thought you wanted me to keep you busy until Wooyoung gets back.”

San groans as he tries to buck again, but unable to get proper leverage. “Baby, we don’t even know when he’s coming home to us,” he whines.

“True, true,” you admit, though your earlier text probably did plenty to sway Wooyoung towards a quick return. “But there’s an easy way to check that.”

You’re careful not to let San slip out of your wet cunt while you reach for your phone, inspired by your recent shenanigans with Wooyoung. But despite being the one who is in the room with you this time, somehow San plays the part of your victim yet again.

San seems to realise the same thing. “You are a mean dom,” he says, an admonishing look on his flushed face. “You better give Woo a hard time, you owe me that mu—”

“You better stay quiet,” you interrupt him with a grin. “What if Yeosang is still there, hm? Wouldn’t want him to overhear anything… untoward.”

He whines again, pulling against his bindings. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?” he protests, like he never bullies you (and especially Wooyoung) when he’s in charge. “You really enjoy tormenting me that much?”

“What I enjoy, is seeing you pout,” you tease him, truthfully, and unlock your phone to call Wooyoung.

San sighs in exasperation, biting his lip to try and rob you of that beloved pout; but he only manages for a split-second before it’s right back on his face. The endearing sight bubbles warmly in your chest, yet the futility of his protest sparks heat between your thighs. As much as you’re trying to draw this all out, you’re slowly losing the battle to sit still on his cock — and the excitement that crackles through you as you wait for Wooyoung to answer his phone doesn’t help.

Wooyoung picks up, and immediately gets down to business. “What’s the secret?” he demands impatiently.

You giggle at his eagerness, deliberately keeping the call off speaker so San only hears your side of the conversation. “Telling you would kinda defeat the point, wouldn’t it? Where are you?”

There’s barely any background noise, leaving you confused over his current location. Wooyoung wouldn’t have picked up this quick if he was still with Yeosang, but clearly he isn’t out on the streets or riding public transportation either.

Wooyoung chuckles. “Where am I? Hmm… it’s a secret.”

He says it with such an air of mystery that you blink and look over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing in the doorway — and immediately feel silly when no one’s there, obviously. You would’ve heard Wooyoung’s voice if he was already in the room with you.

“Funny. Is that a ‘I’m five minutes away’ secret or a ‘go to bed without me, we’ll see each other in the morning’ secret?” you ask, squeezing around San just to be a menace. He visibly strains to keep quiet, face contorted as he bites down a whine.

“Oh, we’ll see each other soon I think,” Wooyoung hums, and you faintly hear what sounds like his footsteps through the phone. “So, spill. What is it? Did you finally get a strap?”

“Fuck.” This time, the squeeze of your walls around San’s is entirely involuntary, and a tiny whimper finds its way past his lips.

“Gonna take that as a ‘no’. Also… speaking of where people are, how about Sannie?” Wooyoung asks. (You wonder if he heard the noise.) “Is this secret a solo endeavour or is he around somewhere?”

“He’s… busy,” you grin. You draw a teasing finger over San’s chest, parallel to the lines of his harness. Another whine spills over as he twitches under your touch, like the press of the rope against his skin has made him even more sensitive than usual.

“Even more secrets. Interesting,” Wooyoung muses to himself; but one particular secret is solved when you distantly hear the front door of the apartment open. He giggles when your breath catches, knowing he gave himself away. “See you soon, alright?” he says, and loudly slams the door shut on purpose.

San jerks at the sound, his eyes widening with realisation. He breaths hard underneath you, his cock giving a violent twitch.

“Over here!” you call out to Wooyoung, and San makes a strangled noise. His tearful eyes gleam with anticipation, excitement — and just a hint of those not-nerves again. “Hey,” you say gently and massage his shoulder in reassurance, drawing his attention back to you. “Wooyoung’s gonna lose his mind, seeing you like this. We’re gonna take such good care of you, of our Sannie.”

San nods, managing a few steadying breaths. “Yeah,” he says softly, his smile almost shy. “All yours.”

It’s then, as warmth glows inside your chest at San’s renewed submission, that Wooyoung opens the bedroom door, looking around in search of your ‘secret’. “Okay, so what’s all the fuss abou—” he starts, but then he lays eyes on San, silenced at once.

All words are stolen from Wooyoung’s tongue, unable to do anything but stare at San’s tied up figure. His mouth has gone slack, eyes unblinking as they take in every inch of rope laid across San’s flushed, sweaty skin, emphasising the wideness of his chest and shoulders, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist — down to where you’re settled in San’s lap, keeping his dick warm.

“See,” you grin at San, lightly rocking your hips into him, “told you he’d like it.”

Even the slight motion is enough to make San whimper and arch, biting at his swollen lips. The stretch around his thick cock is so easy and satisfying now, buried snugly inside your cunt like he was made for you, just to stuff you full. The fevered flush on San’s cheeks deepens as he stares right back at Wooyoung, helplessly waiting for his next move.

“I… I knew you guys talked about practising, I didn’t think… Fuck.”

Wooyoung curses lowly, hands shaky as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it drop onto the floor, leaving him in just a loose-fitting tanktop and trousers. He drinks in the sight of you and San as he shifts onto the bed, darkened eyes briefly lingering on the bite-marks San left on your breasts before Wooyoung’s attention flickers back to San himself.

He brushes his hand over the length of San’s arm, his fingertips catching against the ladder-tie fixed around tensed muscles. “Never seen you like this before,” Wooyoung murmurs in quiet wonderment, wetting his lips. “How is it, Sannie? Is she treating you real nice? Are you having fun?”

“She’s mean,” San pouts, but there is a fond gleam hidden in his eyes as he glances at you. “Wouldn’t let me cum until you got here.”

Wooyoung groans deeply at that, clenching his hand around San’s forearm as though to steady himself. He catches you off guard when he suddenly turns his head to capture you in a hard kiss.

You moan in surprise at Wooyoung’s roughness, his self-control already tattered and hanging on by a single frayed thread. It makes your hips roll against San on pure instinct, drawing a broken whine as he clumsily humps upward to meet your slow grind.

“Fuck, that is real nice of you,” Wooyoung grunts against your lips. “Waiting just for me? Don’t know I could’ve been that patient.”

“You definitely couldn’t have,” you giggle, and reluctantly push him away. “But you don’t have to be patient, not today. Go on, give Sannie a kiss too. Enjoy.”

“Oh I will,” Wooyoung says, his voice raspy with excitement.

San makes a noise, muscles tensing as he yanks uselessly at his bound wrists. He looks nothing short of depraved, hair matted with sweat and eyes glassy, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Delectable, served up to Wooyoung on a platter — and Wooyoung is starved.

Obediently he follows your instruction, descending on San’s mouth in a frenzy.

You sigh in satisfaction as San twitches inside your stuffed cunt, your hand returning to your clit. Even just a light graze of your fingers burns through your core while you revel in the sight in front of you, of San keening pitifully as Wooyoung ravishes him.

Both of them are just as needy and desperate as the other; Wooyoung lost in his aggressive greed, San whimpering as he surrenders himself to it. Your breath hitches at the liberal peeks of tongue as their jaws shift, a sloppy tangle that has San panting, drool spilling over onto his chin. Wooyoung laps it all up before sucking San’s tongue into his mouth, his hands starting to wander.

Wooyoung’s fixation on San’s chest is instantly obvious — and all too understandable. He appreciatively tracks his fingers over the lines of rope, then kneads at the firm pecs trapped between them. His trimmed nails dig into San’s skin ever so slightly, only spurred on when San’s gasps into his mouth, writhing against the dual sensations of his throbbing cock engulfed by your wet heat and Wooyoung’s unbridled attentions.

“What do you think, Wooyoungie? Beautiful like this, isn’t he?” you ask, voice a little shaky, but still allowing yourself a moment of pride in your work.

Wooyoung breaks away from San’s lips, a thin thread of spittle briefly connecting them before it snaps.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grunts hoarsely. He bends down to suck at San’s tits with the same frenetic fervour he used on San’s mouth; and now San’s unmuffled cries spill freely, every pitched moan searing through your abdomen. San looks on the brink — and honestly, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off yourself either.

“Fuck, Sannie, I don’t— Fuck—” Wooyoung babbles between sucking marks on San’s chest, just as overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal. “Is— is this okay? W-what can I—?”

You run a soothing hand through Wooyoung’s hair to ground him, massaging the scruff of his neck. “It’s okay, Wooyoungie, just talk to me. What do you want?”

Wooyoung sighs and relaxes at you kneading his tense muscles, taking a few steadying breaths. He then plucks at the rope laid over San’s sternum with a longing glance, playing with how the cord fills the divot between San’s pecs.

“Looks so good like this. K-kinda wish it was me here…” he rasps, stroking his fingers almost in a thrusting motion along the length of rope, “…me fucking these pretty tits.”

You never even get the chance to check in with San, or to consider the logistics of removing this part of the harness without needing to dismantle the entire thing. No, San is way ahead of you on both counts.

“Cut it. Cut away the rope,” he blurts out immediately, jutting his chin at the safety shears lying on the nightstand.

Wooyoung giggles at San’s urgency, reaching for the scissors. “So generous. I’ll buy you some new rope then,” he coos, wiggling two fingers under the cord to lift it up. “Fuck, but aren’t you eager to get used today, all of a sudden. What brought this on, hm?”

The concern behind Wooyoung’s question is subtle, hidden under a thick fog of arousal, but neither you nor San miss it. San lets out a breathy, self-conscious laugh at Wooyoung’s valid assumption that San might be less than alright if he is willing to submit.

“Nothing,” he says, shuddering as the blunt side of the shears brushes over his skin. “Nothing happened. I… I just wanted this.”

His chest puffs up a little, like he’s proud of himself for the admission. (You definitely are.)

“We talked,” you add, toying with the wide strap of Wooyoung’s tanktop, half-distracted by a glimpse of his collarbone, “and San decided he wanted to try something new.”

The tension on the harness loosens as Wooyoung frees up the space for him to use, causing a slight slack to the ladder pattern on San’s arms; but they stay in place. “Hm, so I have you to thank for this little surprise? You talked Sannie into this?”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you grin, patting San’s side. “Didn’t take much convincing.”

“N-no, you can take a little credit,” San mumbles, almost a little drunkenly as he strains to stay still, slowly looking back-and-forth between you and Wooyoung.

Something passes over Wooyoung’s face as the sharp heat in his gaze momentarily softens. He turns to you and brushes his knuckles over your cheek, then presses a deceptively chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly, before a teasing glint returns to his eyes. “I’ll make good use of it.”

“You better, yeah,” you tease, ignoring how Wooyoung’s sudden moment of softness threatens to throw you off balance. “Sannie was real excited for you to join us.”

Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, discarding the remainder of his clothes. As he does so, he intently eyes the rise and fall of San’s chest at first, but then his eyes wander back between your thighs, where San’s dick disappears inside your sopping cunt.

“Can I?” Wooyoung asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before he runs two fingers through your drenched folds, holding the digits in a v-shape to press around the base of San’s cock. He grins at the way you and San both jerk at his touch, drinking in every moan as he leisurely swipes at your slick.

“F-fuck, Wooyoungie—” you whine, your hand clamping around his shoulder.

His eyes widen when he realises just how close you are, lips spreading into a filthy grin. “Yeah? Gonna give me a little more? Give me enough to lube up Sannie’s fat tits?” he rasps, stroking his fingers with more purpose. “C’mon baby, get it real nice and sloppy for me.”

You hiss another curse, your hips picking up speed when Wooyoung’s thumb finds your clit, right as he lazily mouths at your neck. You’re losing yourself in a clouded frenzy, wantonly gyrating against Wooyoung’s fingers and San’s cock; no longer satisfied with San just filling up your cunt, but finally using him to fuck yourself in earnest.

You’ve held back for so long, but now pure desperation hits you all at once. You have to cum, to find a release to the pressure that’s been building all night from the very moment you and San started your innocuous ‘practice’ session, like neither of you had been fantasising about this very scenario. Your breathless moans mingle with San’s choked gasp as your reckless chase for relief inadvertently sends sends him down a delirious spiral.

San’s head falls back against the pillow as he cries out, struggling against the ropes and bucking clumsily up into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung’s fingers. Tears mingle with sweat on San’s cheeks, his whines catching in his throat when you clench around him tighter than ever before.

You can’t help it, not when Wooyoung bites and sucks at your neck, every nerve ending in your body going haywire as his thumb never lets up on your clit no matter how you twist and squirm.

“P-please,” San gasps, trembling helplessly. “Please, I- I—”

“What is it, Sannie? Too much? Not enough?” Wooyoung grins when San whimpers at the latter question, bucking his hips again. “So greedy. How about you, baby?” he asks you, licking his lips. “Want more too?”

You groan when Wooyoung stops moving his fingers, instinctively burrowing a hand in his hair, tugging impatiently at the long dark strands. “Fuck, don’t stop now, close, so close, Woo,” you babble mindlessly. “Yes yes want more, fuck—!”

Your throat closes up with a high-pitched keen when Wooyoung does exactly what you asked for; giving you more.

Just like that, his index finger slides into your cunt, snugly pressed between your walls and San’s cock. You mewl at the added stretch, a not completely unfamiliar burn but still overwhelming as you rush towards the precipice at break-neck speed. Your vision whites out as you convulse, struggling to stay upright as electrified pleasure surges through you in waves. It’s not until the first wave passes that you realise Wooyoung has worked a second finger in there, snapping his wrist and dragging San right down with you.

“Feels good, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, grinning as your slick gushes over his fingers. “Is that what you wanted? Me next to you in that tight pussy, fucking our good girl together?”

San sobs brokenly, beautifully, powerless as he becomes undone underneath you, painting your fluttering walls with thick, heavy spurts of hot seed. His bottom lip is raw from his teeth, but still he bites down another whimper when your cunt clamps so tightly from an intense aftershock that you can’t help but push him out no matter how you try to keep him inside.

Wooyoung groans in delight at the view of San’s cum leaking out of your weeping hole, right on his fingers. He gathers as much as he can while you slump off on the side, trying and failing to catch your breath.

“Yeah, I think this will do just fine,” he chuckles darkly, and smears his slicked-up fingers between San’s pecs. He even works up some saliva to crudely spit onto San’s glistening skin, all shiny and slippery.

Antsy from waiting, Wooyoung straddles San and roughly grabs two handfuls of his tits to press together, creating a nice crevice for Wooyoung to fuck into. You kneel next to San, giving yourself a perfect view of what’s about to happen. One of your hands trails back between your legs, while the other rests on San’s thigh to ground him, your nails gently grazing over the sensitive muscle.

San whines, arching his back to meet Wooyoung’s flushed cock, its darkened tip leaking precum already. It only adds to the easy slide; an obscene mixture of fluids pooling in the shallow valley between San’s firm, pillowy pecs, causing a wet smacking sound with every snap of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes fluttering shut. He sinks into the rhythm, soaking up the lewd squelches and San’s soft moans.

Your fingers slowly circle around your swollen, tender clit while you watch in a daze how Wooyoung’s dick slides between San’s cleavage with fluid strokes. Wooyoung draws deep, raspy breaths as he tries to stop himself from unravelling too fast, desperate to savour this moment. San’s chest heaves against the weight of Wooyoung’s cock, sweat dripping down his forehead and tongue lolling out of his mouth.

San whimpers when you reach behind Wooyoung to wrap a hand around his softening cock. The touch is gentle at first, almost absentminded while you watch them intently, but your hand gradually picks up speed as San’s moans get louder, needier. Pleasure buzzes through your worn-out body while San’s dick plumps back up in your palm.

San is totally gone at this point, using his last shreds of cognition to crane his neck, trying to catch his tongue against the tip of Wooyoung’s cock with every thrust. Wooyoung lets out a strained giggle of delight at San’s mindless instinct to please, and he pushes forward with deeper strokes to give San a taste of salty precum, mingled with the other bodily fluids gathered on San’s chest.

Wooyoung readjusts his grip so he can thumb at San’s nipples, grinning fiendishly when San whines loudly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So you enjoy this sort of thing, huh?” Wooyoung teases, grunting between thrusts as his pace picks up. The air is filled with the heady, lewd squelch of his cock pushing air between San’s cleavage. “Didn’t expect to ever see you tied up like this. Do you like it, Sannie? Us having our way with you, and nothing you can do about it. Just have to lie there and take it.”

“Y-yeah,” San hiccups, struggling for words while your fist twists around his cockhead with every pass of your hand over his length. “F-fuck, I do, I like it Youngie…”

San’s meek submission flares through your aching cunt — and for Wooyoung, it proves too much to handle. His voice cracks as he doubles over with high-pitched gasps, hips stuttering as he spills on San’s chest, some splatters reaching up to his neck and face.

Wooyoung barely gives himself a chance to catch his breath before he’s bent over San, his tongue laving over the sticky mess on San’s defiled chest.

San lets out a weak moan at Wooyoung’s greedy, suckling mouth, his own tongue darting out to catch a drop of cum on the corner of his lips. It’s decadent, filthy, and you’re drawn closer into their orbit of debauchery with every wet smack of Wooyoung’s mouth, every moan wrested from San’s lips.

Finally you can’t stand it anymore, abandoning your clit to lay on your side. Half-draped over San, you suck at the splatters of cum covering his freckled neck, pumping his cock quicker. The motion catches Wooyoung’s attention and he glances up at your hand around San’s dick, his dark eyes clouded over, mouth and chin shiny with fluids.

“F-fuck, please I can’t—” San whines, trembling uncontrollably. “Baby, I-I’m gonna—”

“Give it to me,” Wooyoung cuts through San’s babbling, his voice hoarse. He rests his cheek on San’s saliva-glistening chest, tongue resting on his bottom lip in invitation.

San’s moans go up in pitch, fighting for breath as you twist and squeeze at his cock with confident familiarity, knowing exactly what he needs to fall apart. He does just so, whining, spilling his load messily over Wooyoung’s face; not as much as the first time, but enough to paint Wooyoung’s tongue white, even with the stray splatters that get on his face and in his hair.

Wooyoung closes his lips with a mischievous grin, but he does not swallow. Instead he turns to you with a dark look, half-crawling over San to grab at the soft meat of your thigh.

Impatiently he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs, then latches onto you. You cry out, yanking at Wooyoung’s hair as he crudely tongue-fucks your cunt, pushing San’s cum inside you. His fingers dig into your hips, encouraging you to grind freely against his face.

Already close from earlier, it does not take much for the orgasm lurking in the shadows to coil around you with hot tendrils, tightly until finally the pressure snaps. You spasm and mewl, desperately grabbing onto San’s arm as you clamp around Wooyoung’s tongue with a throttled moan.

Wooyoung makes a pleased noise, nudging his nose against your clit while you ride it out; chasing every spark jolting through your core. Weakly you run a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding him close as he gently sucks at your folds, drawing out the aftermath until finally you slump down.

As your hold on him loosens, Wooyoung presses a final, tender kiss on your soft thigh. Slowly he withdraws, then sits up and to face San, who lays on the bed worn-out and wrecked in all the best ways.

“That was… different,” Wooyoung says with a faint grin, cupping San’s puffy cheeks to brush away a few lingering tears with his thumbs. “You okay, Sannie? Fuck, you did amazing.”

San answers with a soft hum, tiredly grinning back at Wooyoung. “Different, yeah. Good different. I’m good,” he sighs, glancing at you with a tender gleam in his eyes.

You fondly run a hand through his hair. “I’m glad,” you say in a quiet hush, feeling an odd relief at San’s words. Like a preemptive strike at any uncertainties that could have nagged at you later.

Carefully, you undo the knot around one of his wrists and Wooyoung takes your cue, reaching for San’s other arm. Together you release him from the bindings and the remainder of the cut harness. San is content to just let it happen, to let your care wash over him as you check him for abrasions and massage any stiffness out of his arms.

“How about you?” Wooyoung asks you, squeezing at your waist while San munches on an energy bar. “You okay?”

His concern seeps warmly through the exhaustion that’s settling in your bones. “Hm. Tired,” you mumble, though you manage a smile. It’s not bad, just more than you expected.

San immediately stretches his arms out to you. “Cuddle,” he pouts bossily; a mutually beneficial demand.

You give into his demand without second thought, happy to snuggle up against his chest (which is no longer stained with bodily fluids after Wooyoung cleaned him with some wet-wipes).

“Better?” San asks, rubbing his nose into your hair.

You giggle at the way San can’t help but take charge again, even if it’s just during the aftercare. “Yeah,” you sigh contently, and give Wooyoung a thankful look when he drapes a blanket over you before joining the cuddle himself.

You drift into a cosy bubble of entangled bodies and lazy chatter, a fuzzy warmth settling in, like you could doze off into sleep any moment. You're tempted to let it take you, to at least get a little nap in before you return to the comfort of your own bed — and really, you can find no reason not to.

Wrapped up in the safety of San and Wooyoung, you let your eyes flutter shut for a while, accompanied by their hushed voices and laughs.

Their voices are still there when you wake again later, along with two hands softly grazing over your arm and waist. You join their talk for a while, sleep-drunk from the nap, but then decide to go sleep for real before your brain wakes up too much. San gives you another pout as you untangle from his hold, while Wooyoung jokingly suggests they come with you, but both are placated when you promise to join them for breakfast tomorrow.

You stick by your promise, padding over to San and Wooyoung’s the next morning in slippers and a comfy bathrobe. It’s just one door away but you still can’t help thinking back on yesterday’s conversation; no longer having to shuffle through the apartment building’s hallway would definitely be an added benefit to a shared home.

Wooyoung is meandering in the kitchen by himself when you come in, no San in sight. You rub your eyes groggily as you look around for him, while joining Wooyoung by the stove. You give him a half back-hug, peeking over his shoulder to identify the origin of tasty smells drifting through their apartment. (Kimchi pancakes and egg dumplings, as it turns out.)

“Hmm, has San left already?” you mumble against Wooyoung’s shoulder. You’ had hoped to see San before work, just to ease that tiny twinge of protectiveness in your chest, to confirm he still felt good after yesterday. “Did he have a good sleep?”

Wooyoung opens his mouth — but before he can get a sound out, you hear the muted sound of the shower turning on from the bathroom.

“He’s here,” Wooyoung says with a sleepy grin, flipping over the pancake effortlessly. He’s wearing an apron, his hair is messily tied up into a half-bun, face slightly puffy from sleep. It’s utterly endearing. He looks away from the pan to glance at you, chuckling when he realises what your question was really about. “San’s doing great,” he assures you. “Way too chipper for this early in the morning, honestly.”

“Good, good,” you hum absentmindedly, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you? How are you doing? After last night?”

He blinks in surprise at the question. “Yeah? Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied with his vague answer. “…Yeah? We didn’t ambush you too much with the whole thing?”

“Oh, no no!” He quickly shakes his head, but then slows down and sinks into a pensive expression. “Well… No, not an ambush.”

“…But?” you ask, starting to feel uneasy.

Wooyoung chuckles, pinching your cheek. “Hey — don’t stress out, okay? Last night was fucking amazing. I only—”

He sighs and awkwardly rubs the back of his head, before seeming to come to a decision. He slides the crispy pancake onto a preheated plate before turning down the stove, taking a break from cooking. He turns around to lean back against the counter, giving you and the conversation his full attention. You lean next to him, gently bumping your shoulders together.

“In the heat of the moment? No problems. But afterwards, I… I started feeling a little jealous,” Wooyoung says, his face scrunching up as he painstakingly works the admission past his lips. “That you got to tie San up. That he let you tie him up. Not that I ever bothered to ask but…” Wooyoung shrugs, like he’s trying to minimise the emotions behind his words. “…But I never got the feeling San would’ve tried that with just me.

“And I mean, there’s a reason I never asked; it’s not like this is some big secret fantasy I’ve been dying to play out so the whole thing is just stupid to get jealous over, but… yeah. That.”

His ramble trails off awkwardly, but you listened intently to every word, despite struggling a little to take it all in. You did just wake up after all, still shaking off sleep’s lingering hold on your brain. “Wooyoung… It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you say, your hand finding his.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung says with a wry smile, “didn’t mean to dump all that on you before I even got some food in your stomach.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Did you talk to San about this?”

“Oh yeah, Sannie got the late night edition,” Wooyoung chuckles faintly. “But— but the thing is; it was also… nice? Does that even make sense? Like, I loved seeing you two like that together.”

Your brow softens, a pop of warmth bursting in your chest. “You did?”

Wooyoung nods, struggling to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Loved it. I—”

He hesitates again, and you have a sudden suspicion of what sentence he’s hiding behind his lips.

“I love how you took care of him, I love that he let you. Even if it felt complicated. You and San are different than me and San, but… that’s okay, you know? You and me are different too, and I love how we are together,” Wooyoung says, his waterfall of words inching closer and closer to the exact phrasing he is trying to reach.

You swallow thickly, realising what is about to come… and hold tighter onto Wooyoung’s hand, quietly encouraging him.

He glances up tentatively, finally meeting your eyes again — and relaxes into a smile at what he finds there. “Listen,” he continues, a little more confident, “it’s not like I’m interested in what adjective goes before the word. Romantic, platonic, whatever. Who cares. But— but I do love you.”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, exhaling with audible relief.

“And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, searching your face for any signs of it, “but I also don’t want to lie about this stuff. So… is this okay? Is it okay if I say that? You don’t have to say anything back,” Wooyoung rushes to add. “I know you might not feel the same way. But I’m good with that. I’m good with you liking me in your own way.”

There’s a stubborn lump in your throat that refuses to go away.

You did think those words would make you uncomfortable. You were convinced they would, given your past experiences. You just thought that for Wooyoung, you could sit with that discomfort and let it pass through you. At least this once. But there is no discomfort itching under your skin, no distress pounding in your chest.

Only warmth.

Down to the very core of your being, you know there are no ultimatums hidden behind Wooyoung’s confession. No threat to end things if your response does not meet his expectations, if what you can give him in return isn’t enough. Whatever you’ll say, he has already decided that it is. That you are enough. Just as you are.

“Well… I did tell you to stop assuming I’ll bolt at the tiniest hint of commitment,” you tease, though your voice is a little thick. (Somewhere in the background, you vaguely register that the shower in the bathroom has turned off.)

“You did, yeah,” Wooyoung giggles, lightly elbowing you in the side. His shoulders look much lighter now. “No take backsies.”

You shake your head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Yeah,” you hum. “Yeah, it’s okay if you say that. More than okay. I… I’m happy.”

Wooyoung’s eyes scrunch up as his smile widens. The force of it is breathtaking.

“Is— is this something recent? You haven’t been stressing out about this talk, have you?” you ask, fidgeting a little. You hate the idea that he might’ve been sitting with this for who knows how long.

Wooyoung scoffs a laugh. “What? No way. You know me, right? Bottling up feelings is not my style. I leave that up to you and Sannie.”

You snort at the lighthearted dig, whapping Wooyoung on the arm. “Hey, that’s slander! Blatant character assassination! Who is the one who brought up moving in together?”

“Okay fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one,” he sighs dramatically. “But you gotta admit I’m the load-bearing pillar in this trio. It’s a fate I’ve accepted long ago.”

His dramatics make you laugh, but honestly? There is truth in it. Wooyoung has always been the most pro-active between the three of you, the most forthright about his wants and needs. Hell, without Wooyoung, you and San never would’ve reached a place for him to be jealous of.

You always liked San, ever since he moved in next-door, but it was Wooyoung who forcibly dragged you two closer into each others’ orbit. With no Wooyoung, you’d have lived complacently as neighbours, your friendship superficial, until one of you moved out again, never to see each other again. Never sticking your head out to explore what else there could be between you.

The morning hush settles back into the kitchen as you lean against Wooyoung, loosely wrapping your arms around his. “Thank you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll try to carry my weight more often.”

Wooyoung blinks, a little surprised at your sincere reaction to his joke, but then he softens into a smile and leans back into you. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs back. “But don’t go carrying too much, alright? Can’t have me becoming redundant.”

“Pff, never. Idiot,” you snort, squeezing his arm. “Besides, what if you did? It’s not like we’d ditch you or anything. San and I don’t keep you around just because we’d crumble without you.”

That’s how San walks in to find you and Wooyoung, just living in a moment of quiet. His hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his shoulders to catch the last few drops clinging to wet tendrils.

San’s eyes lightens up when he sees you’re here, quickly walking over joining you. He briefly raises an eyebrow when he notes the one singular pancake that’s getting cold, but decides to ignore it, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Wooyoung instead. He drapes an arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm hand coming to rest high between your shoulder-blades.

“So,” San says, a cute little smile tugging on his lips as he looks at Wooyoung. “You talked to her? Said what you wanted to say?”

Wooyoung grins back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”

“Good,” San says softly, his fingers trailing up to knead the nape of your neck. “That’s really good.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. “You know what isn’t good?” he says, looking from you to San. “That we’re all standing around here getting hungry. C’mon, get off me, let me get to it. Someone has to keep you two fed.”

He abruptly shakes himself loose and turns back to his pancake better, causing you and San to make noises of surprise — but then you grin mischievously at the sight of him diligently making breakfast for three. “See? That’s why you’ll never be redundant. Indispensable, that’s what you are.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Helpless without me, that’s what you are,” he shoots back, but the corners of his mouth are fighting a losing battle against the wide, shy smile creeping up his lips.

You catch San’s eye while Wooyoung continues his cooking, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “You had a good sleep?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, struck by the same shyness. “Really good.”

A faint heat creeps under your skin as you reminisce on last night’s events; the trust San showed in you, the sight of him tied up on the bed, helpless while you and Wooyoung ravished him, how noisy he’d gotten—

Oh. Noise.

A whole other sort of heat flushes through you when a different memory of yesterday floods through your system. “D-do you think we ought to send Mrs Yoon flowers or something?” you say, grimacing at San. “Fruit basket? Chocolates?”

San’s drowsy smile is knocked right off his face as he freezes, cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. “Oh god,” he groans, hiding his face behind his hand. “Y-yeah. Maybe we should.”

Wooyoung takes his attention off the pan, blinking at you and San in confusion. “Hm? Mrs Yoon? What about her?” he says, blissfully oblivious. “Is she sick? I can get her some flowers from work, sure. Do we need to write her a card too?”