#(no i did not go up to them and no i did not take a pic of them i am not a freak)

[street-smarts00]

With All My Heart

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You never thought Bucky was the sentimental type, until you found something hidden under his bed.

WC: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: super fluffy, established relationship, Post Thunderbolts*,Not Beta Read 

A/N: I’ve had this idea for weeks and finally did it. Fun fact, the Polaroids may or may not be inspired by real pictures I took of my best friend and her boyf. Also, yes I have been to the rest stop I mentioned. Sadly I live far away from them and I NEED to go back!

You felt like an idiot looking at your wrist and realizing your watch wasn’t there. 

“Shit,” you mumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked you with concern. 

You shook your head, “It’s nothing, I forgot my watch.”

He paused, pondering while he put on his leather jacket. “I think you left it on my nightstand when you took it off last night,” he answered, pointing down the hall. “Do you want to go get it before we leave?” 

You hesitated, “You sure you don’t mind waiting?” 

Bucky shook his head and held out his hand to hold your jacket and purse for you. “Not at all.”

You smiled, handed him your things, and left a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, be right back.” 

As you walked away the corners of his lips turned up into a soft smile. 

You hurried to Bucky’s room and upon entering a frustrated groan left you. There the nightstand was, with no watch. You searched the drawers in the nightstand and the top of his dresser, still no luck. 

After staring at the nightstand, you wondered if you really did leave it there but maybe it fell. You kneeled down next to the bed and turned on your phone flashlight. A quick scan finally revealed the missing watch. With a relieved sigh you reached for it, when something caught your eye. 

A box. 

A box with your name written on the side of it. 

Your own name was staring back at you as you grabbed the watch. With a careful hand you reached for the box and dragged it out from the bed. 

The box sat in your lap, unopened, unbothered. It was a dark brown cardboard shoe box from one of his pairs of boots. Your name was written in black marker on the side and next to it a tiny messy heart. 

Your gut is telling you not to open it. It might have been hidden for a reason. You have no right to be digging and snooping around Bucky’s things. Finding something he didn’t want found. 

But another part of you was desperate to know what was inside. That small but loud part of your brain that was screaming at you to open it. The voice kept echoing in your ears. Reminding you that your name was on it. 

Why did he have a box with your name on it?

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be hidden. You kept things under your bed not because you wanted to hide them, but because of storage and safekeeping. Maybe this was like that. 

Maybe. 

God the anticipation was going to kill you. 

Maybe it was a present he put in there for your next anniversary, birthday, or some other reason. 

Well then you should really not open it. Don’t want to ruin any possible surprise he has for you. 

You really shouldn’t open it. You shouldn’t open it. Don’t open it. Don’t open it. Don’t open it. Don’t open it. Open it. Open it. Open it…

Your hands moved on their own. Your fingers peeled back the lid of the box and set it down on the floor next to you. 

You peered inside at the contents of the box with confused curiosity. At first glance it didn’t look like much. It definitely wasn’t a present. There were a bunch of random items, mostly paper ones. 

The first thing that caught your attention was the small plastic wristband. It was at the top of the pile. You picked it up and read the words on the side “Luna Park: Coney Island.” Realization dawned on you that it was Bucky’s wristband from your first date. When he asked you out, there was no specific place in mind yet. But when he told you an old story about him and Steve at Coney Island and you said you had never been there before, he knew where he wanted to take you. 

It was a perfect first date. The weather was clear and warm but not too hot to be uncomfortable, no doubt because of the cool ocean breeze. You went on rides, you played games. And of course Bucky spent 40 bucks to win you a blue stuffed penguin you fawned over and called cute. He was a man on a mission. And now that penguin sat on a chair in your bedroom. 

With a smile you placed the wristband back in the box and picked at the other things inside. 

Your heart swelled at the realization that most of the items were from your old dates with Bucky. There were tickets from your trips to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Museum of Natural History and one from The New York Aquarium. There had to be at least 5 movie stubs and 3 dinner receipts from dates you went on with him. There was the playbill from the broadway show he took you to for your birthday a few months ago. He surprised you with orchestra seats. 

You dug around more and found a strip of photos from a photo booth you took with Bucky. His eyes shined as he told you about how common they were back in the 30s and how he used to always stop at them with his friends. When you both sat down he stared with wide eyes at the inflated price. 

“Ten dollars? This used to cost a quarter!” 

You giggled at his complaint, “You sound so old when you say stuff like that.” You reached for your purse to grab a ten when he stopped you with a hand on your arm and pulled out his wallet from his pocket. 

“I’m still not going to let you pay for it,” he returned with a sly grin. 

You smiled looking down at the strip of pictures in your hand. The top photo was simple, both you and Bucky smiling at the camera with his arm around you. It was sweet, peaceful. In the second photo you placed a hand under his chin and kissed his cheek. His eyes were closed with wrinkles around them from his smile. His cheeks were more rosy than in the last photo. In the third photo Bucky now had his hand on your neck as he kissed you. The fourth and final photo was of you looking at the camera, mid laugh, while Bucky had a hand on your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

The machine gave you two copies of the pictures. Yours was pinned to a cork board in your room next to other photos. 

You moved on from the photo strip and continued digging through the memory box, throwing caution to the wind. 

As you flipped through the other items a shell fell from behind something, landing in the corner of the box. It was the seashell from when you walked and talked on the beach for what felt like hours because you were so engrossed in conversation with him. The water carried a small shell onto the shore. You picked it out from the water and stared at it in awe. You had asked Bucky to hold onto it because your clutch was full and your outfit didn’t have any pockets. Later that night you forgot about it. 

In fact, you forgot about it until now, weeks later. Your jaw dropped as you ran your fingertips over the ridges of the shell's surface, reminiscing your walk on the beach. His hand in yours and the

The next thing you found were the birthday cards you gave Bucky from his last two birthdays. One card was from a birthday before you started dating, and the other one was after. 

The two year old card was more basic, like you got it from the generic section of the birthday card aisle (because you did). You opened up the old card and read your own handwriting. 

Happy Birthday Bucky

I know you don’t like making a big deal out of your birthday but you still deserve a card :) 

You’re so important to this team and your effort doesn’t go unnoticed. We’re lucky to have you around. I hope you have a great day and that 109 treats you well. (Even though you’re technically not 109 haha) 

You closed it and set it back down in the box before grabbing the one you gave him on his most recent birthday. This one was less generic. You picked out one that had more design and personality. 

Happy Birthday my Love 

I am so grateful to have you by my side. You’re one of the best things to have ever happened to me. I hope you know you are so important and appreciated. I can’t imagine my life or this team without you. 

Happy 110th you old man ;)

I love you with all my heart

Hidden behind the birthday cards was a stack of post-it notes all stuck together. Some of them were old with barely any stickiness left and crinkled edges. Some were new and almost in pristine condition. But all of them were notes from you. You flipped through the stack of sticky notes and saw more of your own handwriting. 

Good morning <3

You make me smile :)

Meet me in the lounge later I have a surprise!

I know you stole my last Pepsi >:( prepare for war

I’m so proud of you 

Have a great day!

And at least 7 more that just say I love you 

Bucky must have saved every single note you left for him.

Your heart almost gave out but thankfully it lasted to see the last few items in the box. 

There were more photos. Two to be exact. Two Polaroids taken from Yelena's camera. 

One of the Polaroids was taken a few months ago. You knew it was taken because you posed for it. It was on your birthday. The team celebrated at the tower with you after the show Bucky surprised you with. You wanted to keep out of the public eye for the rest of your birthday. Spend the night with just friends. And your boyfriend of course. 

Yelena was a few drinks in, wasting her camera film throughout the night. She had a pile of photos on the coffee table that was getting thicker as time went on. Most of them included you. 

This one was of you and Bucky. Everyone was sitting on the couches playing a drinking game. You and Bob returned from the bar with new drinks. A Long Island iced tea for you and a regular iced tea for him. You plopped back down on the couch next to your boyfriend, giggling at whatever outlandish thing Alexei said. After you placed your drink down Bucky wrapped an arm around you and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

“Awe! Wait, that was adorable, do that again!” Yelena exclaimed as she grabbed her camera. 

You rolled your eyes, with no real malice of course. “Yelena,” you laughed. 

“Come on, it’s sweet!” She turned the camera on and looked through the viewfinder. 

“Kiss!” Alexei shouted. 

“Pucker up Barnes!” Ava yelled from the other couch. 

The corners of Bucky’s lips turned up into a grin as he shook his head. A gasp left you as Bucky grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap. He tightened his arm around you and placed a kiss on your cheek. Your face turned bright red as an airy giggle left your lungs. 

Yelena snapped the image in front of her. Forever frozen in time.

The memory of that night now sat in your hands as you stared down at it. There was a phantom feeling of his lips on your skin as you set the Polaroid back down in the box. 

You picked the other photo up, immediately recognizing when it was taken. Except, you don’t remember it being taken. 

This picture was taken a few short weeks before Bucky asked you out. You knew that because your hair was slightly shorter. It was more grown out now. 

The photo was of you and Bucky on the couch, taken from behind. Your back was to the camera, resting against the couch. Bucky was sitting next to you. Your attention was pulled away somewhere off camera. But Bucky, he looked right at you. 

The thing that really stuck with you was his eyes. His eyes were soft. The kind of soft that people didn't see often from him. His eyes are normally like stone. His stare, usually hard, like rock. It pierces into you. But this look on him was different. He looked at you like you were a work of art. Like he was trying to take in all of you with just his eyes. 

You've seen that look before many times. But didn’t notice it before you started dating. You didn’t realize just how head over heels he was in the weeks leading up to your first date. 

You cautiously placed the pictures back in the box, like they were delicate and fragile. 

Something else you didn’t remember was a napkin with little doodles on it. You recognized it as a napkin from a bar the team occasionally visited. But you can’t remember when you drew flowers and vines on this napkin. 

Bucky seemed to remember it. He kept it and cherished it in his memory box like it was a masterpiece you created and not some drunk sketch. 

Your heart rate slowly grew in speed as your eyes moved to a keychain at the bottom of the box. It was a small, yellow, metal keychain in the shape of Texas with a cartoon beaver on it. 

It was in the middle of the night after a short mission in Texas. You and Ava stopped at the largest rest stop you’d ever seen in your life. The rest stop had a beaver for its mascot and aisles of merch. But what made you buy the keychain for him was the name of the rest stop. Buc-ee’s. 

You almost didn’t buy it for him. This was long before you started dating and you weren’t sure how he would appreciate a random gag gift. 

“I found something for you in Texas.” 

He turned to you and hummed with curiosity. You dug the keychain from your jeans pocket and handed it to him. 

“We found this rest stop called Buc-ee’s and they have this little beaver as their mascot,” you explained, fidgeting with the loops in your jeans. “He’s literally your twin, you're both named Bucky,” you ended with a chuckle, trying to make this one sided conversation any less awkward. 

He continued to silently examine it, his right, flesh hand running over the painted metal. 

“I know it’s stupid, you don’t have to keep it,” you nervously mumbled. You reached forward to grab it back from him, 

He pulled his hand back, not willing to give up the present. “No, it’s not stupid. It’s cute,” he reassured.  

Your cheeks heated up in real time just like they did when he said that. 

He kept it. 

He kept the gag gift you got him. This silly little keychain was so important he kept it in a special keepsake box.

You almost couldn’t believe what you found. All the memories, all the stuff you gave him, all the things he cherished because they reminded him of you. It seemed like this box that sat in your lap held his very own heart and all his love for you. 

You shuffled the items back to how they were in the box when you found it. You assumed that was all there was to find in there. Until three candy wrappers fell out from between the various papers. 

Jolly Ranchers. Your favorite candy. 

You always had them on you. Kinda like an old lady that carries around hard candy. John always jokes that you’re an old woman when you grab a jolly rancher from your pocket or purse. He says you and Bucky are perfect for each other because you both have old person tendencies. 

Speaking of Bucky, because you often had candy on you, you always offered some to him. He always said yes. Here in his shoe box you saw one cherry and two green apple wrappers. 

You froze, staring at the candy wrappers. Even in the silence of his room you couldn’t hear the footsteps approaching. For a moment all you heard was your own heart pounding in your ears. 

The door creaked open. “Hey, you’ve been gone for a while. Did you find your watch?” Bucky asked, walking in the room. 

He stopped a few feet away from you. Your back was to him, the box hidden in your lap. But he knew you had it because he saw the lid on the floor next to you. 

You raised your hand and shook your wrist to show him the watch. “Yeah, I found it,” your voice sounded more hoarse than you expected. You quickly blinked away the tears that collected at your waterline right before he waked in.

Bucky took a few steps closer, and crouched down next to you. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. Now that he was close to you, he noticed how glassy your eyes were. 

He held your face in his hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. Your eyes fluttered close. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My watch was under the bed and I found this,” you started rambling. “I saw my name. I know I shouldn’t have opened it-“ 

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he soothed in a quiet voice. He turned your face towards his. “I’m not mad.” 

You nodded to confirm you understood. You sniffled and glanced between him and the box. 

“You kept all this.”  

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

It was a dumb question and you knew it. Yet the word still flew out of your mouth. 

He took a pause, breathing in. 

“This stuff means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me,” he answered like it was the easiest thing to say in the world. 

“After HYDRA, after all the-” he hesitated- “issues with my memory I started keeping stuff like this. To remember.”

With his free hand he grabbed the other side of your face. Bucky leaned closer, his bright blue eyes stared into yours and bore into your soul. You could’ve sworn they looked a little glassy.

“I want to make sure I remember you.” 

You lip quivered. Bucky leaned forward and captured your lips in a brief, gentle kiss. He rested his forehead against yours. 

“Can I ask about something in the box?”

“Anything.” 

“The napkin. I don’t remember it,” you confessed, voice quiet and curious. “Why did you save it?” 

“It was the team's first time at that bar. You were drunk and bored because they weren’t playing songs you liked. Someone left a pen on the bar and you sat there drawing on a napkin for twenty minutes.” Bucky paused as his lips curled into a smile. “You were so concentrated. The bar, the team, they were all so loud and distracting. But all your attention was on these little drawings. Like you were painting the Mona Lisa.”

He licked his lips, “that night I realized I have feelings for you.” 

A giddy smile snuck its way on your face before you kissed him. Slow and passionate. You poured all your love into that kiss to try and match the amount of devotion and love he had on display for you.

You pulled away, but not too far away. Your lips hovered over his. “I love you with all my heart. You know that right?” 

He lightly chuckled, “I know.” 

Bucky wiped away a stray tear that you didn’t know escaped and ran down your cheek. 

“I love you with all of mine,” he whispered, his voice soft with adoration.

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 3

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, comfort and control, hurt/comfort (if you squint)

A/N: Reading all your comments and reblogs always makes me smile! This part is a bit longer than the rest. I wanted to focus on building her trust and relationship with the boys, so there will be much more interactions and intimacy than the previous parts. I hope you all enjoy!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 3:

If You Stay

You don’t remember falling asleep. But you remember waking up.

The guest room is dim, wrapped in soft shadows, the silk sheets pulled up to your chin. The faint scent of rain and cedar lingers in the air—Jinu, you think distantly. It clings to your skin like a memory. One you shouldn’t have.

You must’ve fallen asleep after your talk with the boys in the afternoon. You’d admit, that did take a toll on you, and you were still feeling quite unwell from yesterday’s events. Hangovers don't just go away in a few hours. One of the boys must’ve carried you in here.

You sit up slowly. Your headache from earlier is gone. But something inside still hums. A weight behind your ribs. A tugging sensation that pulses faintly… toward them.

You still had too many questions you needed answers to. They said they were demons, so why are they here? They didn’t look like demons. They were sinfully beautiful, so you assume that definitely plays a part in it. Why did they sell their souls to Gwi Ma? Who was this Gwi Ma? Who were you to each of them in your past life? Just how many past lives have you had exactly? 

And most importantly, if they were demons hundreds of years old, why in the flying fuck are they in a K-pop idol group?

There’s a knock at the door, ceasing your thoughts. You freeze. But it doesn’t open.

“Y/N?” It’s Romance’s voice, low and careful. “Dinner’s ready. If you’re hungry.”

You don’t answer right away.

Not because you don’t want to. But because you’re afraid of what it means that you do. Still—you follow the sound.

The dining room is too elegant for six people. The table could seat twelve, But only one side is set—six seats arranged close together. The lighting is warm, soft. As if they’d planned for comfort. For your nerves.

The boys are already seated. But they all rise the moment they see you. Romance is the first to move, pulling out your chair with a slow, exaggerated flourish. “Right here, angel.”

You meet his eyes and you feel the pull again. He’s looking at you with the most tender expression. Like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him. 

And you were.

Plates are filled before you can ask. Abby gently sets a bowl of soup in front of you—your favorite kind. You don’t remember telling them that. You’re not even sure you remember liking it until the smell hits you. Baby places a glass of water before you and you suck in a nervous breath as you feel a light kiss on the crown of your head. 

You’d never been treated like this before. Cherished. Not even by your own family. It was so foreign, you doubted it could be real. 

But as you gazed at each and every one of them, you could see it in their faces. The quiet relief. The tenderness. Their want to do these things for you. It was a feeling you had to get used to.

You didn’t touch the food right away. You just stared down at the dark wooden table, the linen napkin folded too neatly on your lap, and the spoon resting next to a bowl that smelled like home. If home had five soul-bound demons who watched you breathe.

Jinu watches carefully from across the table. He hasn’t touched his food.

“Eat,” he says quietly. “You’ll need your strength.”

You hesitate.

Romance spoke next. “If you’re waiting for poison, don’t worry. We only do that to each other.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. It was too much. All of it. You took a small sip. And then another. And the warmth spread to places in you that hadn’t been warm in months. You sighed, strangely feeling so much more at ease.

Romance leans closer. His voice is honey and hooks. “You’re still not feeling well during the day, right?”

You nod. Slowly. 

“That’s the bond,” Jinu says. “It’s active. But unstable.”

“The further you are from us,” Abby adds, “the worse it’ll get.”

“I’ve been alone for years,” you mutter, fingers tightening around your spoon. “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Baby says from the end of the table. Quiet. Sharp. “You won’t.” You flinch at his tone. But it doesn’t feel cruel—just true.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Romance sets his fork down and places his chin in his palm, eyes glittering in the candlelight. “You’re not a prisoner, you know.”

Your brow furrows.

He smiles. “We’re not keeping you here. But…we did have this place built for you.”

Your eyes snapped to him. "What do you mean you had it built for me?"

Romance’s smile was soft. Too soft. "Darling, this whole place was bought and designed for you. For when we found you. We just live in it."

You blink.

Had they been waiting for you that long? You hadn’t really thought about it before. The logistics of their story hadn’t fully registered. 

“You’d have your own space,” Jinu says softly, ever the diplomat. “A guest room. With a lock, if that makes you feel safer.”

Abby immediately frowns. “Why can’t she just stay in her room-room?” he grumbles, arms crossed. “It’s closer to mine.”

Your brows knit together. “Wait. My room?”

Romance’s smile is slow and feline, like he’s been waiting for that moment. “Of course. We had it ready since… well. A while.”

You blink. That didn’t answer your question.

Jinu doesn’t flinch. “Because that room doesn’t have a lock.”

Abby scowls, muttering something under his breath. Romance hums beside you. “Wouldn’t want one anyway.”

You whirl on him. “What was that?”

He holds up both hands in mock surrender, grinning like the devil. “Just saying. But okay, okay—guest room with a lock. For now.”

There’s a silence. Then Mystery murmurs almost too quietly: “…We’d break it if we had to.”

Your stomach twists. They’re joking. You hope they’re joking.

“You wouldn’t be alone,” Mystery pipes again. He’s seated closest to you, his plate untouched. His eyes never leave your hands. He wanted to grasp them. Feel your warmth. Feel your hands massage his hair just as you used to in your past life. He swallowed.

You press your lips together. It’s not that you don’t believe them. It’s that you do. And that terrifies you.

Romance watches the doubt dance across your face. He leans forward, just enough that you’re forced to look at him.

“You don’t have to say yes forever,” he says, voice low and intimate. “Just… stay. For now. Let your body heal. Let the bond stabilize. You don’t even have to talk to us. We’ll keep our distance if that’s what you want.”

At least that’s what she’ll think. Romance thinks to himself. With these guys? Yeah right.

You don’t speak. His voice softens. “You’ve been carrying this alone for so long, haven’t you? You’re getting sick. Dizzy. Faint.”

Your throat tightens.

“You’re tired. You’re having headaches. And we’re the only ones who can ease it. You feel that. So why are you still punishing yourself?”

You try to deny it. To push the tears back. But his words hit something raw. And real.

“I’m not trying to punish myself,” you whisper. “I just… I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll let you suffer for it.”

"You’ll be safe," Abby added gruffly. "No one touches you here. No one even gets close."

The silence that follows is thick. Your breathing is shallow. Their words registering. Was it really so bad? Letting them care for you? Being here with them. Having them treat you like you’ve never been treated before? 

Why were you still fighting it? There was so much you didn’t know, but as of this moment, you did know one thing. That they loved you in your past life. And love you still. Did that count? They yearn for you, and have been for lifetimes. And you knew deep in your heart you were starting to feel the same. Was that really so bad? 

To let them in? 

They were strangers, but they weren’t. They claim to be yours, so why do you keep questioning it? 

Then, slowly—almost in spite of yourself—you nod. “Just… a little while,” you say. “Until I feel better.”

You don’t see the look they share. The way Jinu’s shoulders finally lower. The flicker of possessive triumph behind Romance’s lashes. Or the way Mystery exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the moment you left him last.

You don’t see any of it. But you feel it. The shift. The settling. Something ancient and invisible clicks into place behind your ribs. And you don’t fight it anymore.

The bond sighs.

They insist on collecting your things that night. “We’ll go,” Abby says immediately. “You stay. Rest.”

“No, I—” You start, but Jinu raises a hand. “You’re still weak. If the bond flares while you’re alone, it could be dangerous. Let us.”

You glance between them—five men who could tear the world apart for you—and for once, it feels less like a threat and more like a promise.

“…Okay,” you say quietly. “Just—don’t touch my underwear drawer.”

Romance smirks. “No promises.”

“Romance,” Jinu snaps.

Mystery growls.

You sigh. I guess you did need underwear. “Fine. Just… don’t be creepy.”

Abby winks. “We’ll be fast. Promise.”

As they move, as doors open and shoes slip on, you stay behind with Baby, the silent protector watching your every move. But for some reason, it doesn’t scare you now. 

He approaches you, eyes intense and never as wary as the others. Like he’d never be sorry for having you and taking what’s rightfully his. He was silent, but intentional. 

He walks you to your room and you shiver as you feel his large hand on your lower back. He holds the door open for you before briefly muttering a faint “Goodnight, sweetheart” and closing the door shut. And for the first time in weeks… You don’t feel sick.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You sit on the same dining table for breakfast. Jinu had made you some toast sandwiches. The boys looked chirpy. Looks like someone’s in a good mood…

It was still so surreal to them how you were here- having breakfast with them. The very thought of this domestic life with you, caring for you, providing for you like partners almost made them purr in ecstasy. 

You were still in Jinu’s hoodie despite all your clothes laying in messy duffle bags, sleeves swallowing your hands, hair slightly damp from a quick shower. It took much restraint from Jinu to not pull you in his arms the moment you walked out of your room.

His hoodie looked right on you. Like it had always belonged there—like you had always belonged there. You didn’t realize it, but every thread of that oversized fabric clung to you like a memory, like a claim. It smelled like him, and that alone made something feral claw beneath his skin.

His jaw tightened as you crossed the room, bare legs brushing against soft fabric. You moved so carelessly, so trusting, not realizing you were walking a tightrope over a thousand years of obsession. Of agony. Of aching need.

You didn’t know he used to dream about this. That centuries ago, he’d wake from nightmares of you slipping through his fingers only to whisper your name into the night. He had waited lifetimes to see you like this again.

And now? Now, you were right there—wrapped in his scent, in his clothes, in his world—but still unsure if you belonged.

He smiled softly as you reached for a mug, but his hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to cage you to his chest, press his lips to your neck, and whisper, “This time, I’ll never let you die.”

He would never let you go again.

They were all quiet around you, letting you eat in peace. It should’ve been normal. It wasn’t.

"Are you going to work today?" Mystery asked, tilting his head.

"...Yes?"

"We don’t think you should go," Jinu said plainly.

You nearly choked on your toast. Say what now? "I have bills."

"You could quit," Romance offered. "Stay here. Rest. Sketch. Paint. Sleep."

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Sure, the offer sounded nice—dreamy, even. But it was the kind of nice that belonged in fairytales. People didn’t just quit their jobs and live off vibes and good intentions. In this economy?

You waited for the punchline… but it never came. They were all staring at you—completely serious. Like quitting your job was the obvious solution. Like it was the answer to every problem you’d ever had.

"What would I even do? Just exist as your little house pet?"

Mystery looked hopeful. Abby smiled. You sighed. "No way. I’m not freeloading."

"You could be our assistant," Abby grinned. "Take notes. Carry snacks. Pet Mystery when he gets upset."

"Not happening."

They let it go.

But Romance’s eyes gleamed. Like he was already planning a way to make it so. 

After breakfast, you went to your room to change into your work clothes. Stepping out and closing the door firmly, you make your way to the kitchen where Jinu hands you another toast claiming you needed another ‘energy boost’ for the day. You take it in thanks and drown out his last ditch effort to convince you to quit, waving him off with a cute smile that shut him up. You make your way to the entrance and stop in your tracks. Abby, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself for 8:30 in the morning. His sweatshirt hung loose over his frame, hood drawn up, but there was no hiding that build. Or that face. Or the smirk that crept up the moment he saw you in your work clothes.

"Hello there, sweetheart," he drawled.

You froze, mid-bite, a piece of toast tragically dangling from your mouth. "...If this is another attempt to get me to quit my job, you can turn right back around."

Abby grinned like the smug menace he was. “Sadly, no. I’ve accepted your tragic refusal of our generous sugar-demon lifestyle.”

He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his hoodie pocket like this was totally normal. “So instead, I’ll be escorting my darling little starshine to work today.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry—your what now?”

“My darling. Little. Starshine,” he repeated, grinning wider with each word.

You deadpan, a blush of pink rising to your cheeks. “Try that again and I’ll call HR.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m walking you to work. Orders from the Bond Gods. Or Jinu. Same thing, really.”

“You all really expect me to be escorted to work?”

“Yes,” he says simply. “You’re still weak. The bond’s healing you, but slowly. We won’t let you go alone again. Not when you’re like this.”

You hesitate. He steps closer, but not too close. “Let us keep you safe. Just for today.”

“…Fine,” you mutter.

“And tomorrow…”

“Really?”

“And the day after that…”

“Okay, I get it. Fine. But you have to hide.”

He blinks. “Hide?”

“I’m not walking next to Abby from the Saja boys. I’ll be the talk of the entire district. They’ll probably think I’m kidnapped.”

He snorts. “Technically…”

“Abby.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls his hood lower. “But I draw the line at hiding my abs.”

You roll your eyes. “Just… be normal. Please.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Even in a hoodie and mask, he doesn’t look normal. He looks like a movie star trying not to be recognized—and failing. Your coworkers notice him immediately.

“Y/N…” one of the baristas whispers as you clock in. “Who. Is. That.” 

You pretend not to hear.

Another coworker giggles. “Is he your boyfriend? Oh my god, did you meet him at the club?”

“No!” you say too quickly.

“But he didn’t come inside with us… where did you meet him then?”

You force a laugh. “He’s just a friend. He’s helping me out since I’ve been sick.” 

They seem to buy it—until someone brings up the guy from the other night.

“Hey, what happened to Jae? He said he’d walk you home, but we never heard from him. Did he ghost or something?”

You freeze.

“I, um… ran into someone else before he could. Didn’t see him after that.”

You stare hard at the pastry tray, pretending to adjust the layout. But inside, your stomach twists. What did happen to him?

You’d ask the boys later. …If you wanted the truth. Though, you’re not quite sure if you really do. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Your shift drags on longer than usual. Not because of work.

Because of him.

Baby sits at the back corner, hoodie pulled low, sipping a black coffee he hasn’t touched in twenty minutes. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. Your coworkers whisper, asking if he was an idol or something because he looked too handsome to be just a normal customer. You cringed at that.

It hasn’t really registered until now just how insane it was, really. You were now co-living with one of the rising pop-groups in the country. You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. 

You try to focus. But you can feel his eyes. Not just looking—possessing. Guarding. Burning. Everytime you talked to a customer (particularly male) you could feel his eyes harden, glaring holes into whoever it was that talked to you. 

One of them tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention, asking with an “excuse me” if he could get some hot sauce with his order. Baby nearly jumped out of his seat if it weren’t for your warning glare. 

You approach the brooding demon, flipping open your notepad. “You’re not subtle, you know.”

He doesn’t smile. “They shouldn’t look at you.”

Your heart thumps. “It’s a customer’s job to look…and order…and ask...”

“They shouldn’t talk, either. Nor should they ever touch.”

You try not to smile. “You’re terrifying.”

His eyes flick up. Dark. Hungry. “Good.”

You bring him a refill anyway. “Behave.”

He doesn’t.

He waits outside when your shift ends, hands in pockets. Doesn’t say a word as you fall into step beside him. The air between you buzzes. You glance over. “Why do you look like someone kicked your favorite pet?”

He doesn’t answer. You poke him in the side. “Baby.”

His jaw flexes. Fighting his control to pull you in closer as people walked by. “I don’t like them talking to you.”

You sigh. “We’ve been over this. It’s my job.”

“You don’t need it.”

“I do.”

“You have us.”

“That’s not a job.”

“You could quit. Let us take care of you.”

“No.”

He frowns, lips twitching down.

“You’re pouting.”

He looks at you, expression unreadable. You reach out, amused, and gently press his cheek. Something shifts. He grabs your hand—fast but gentle—and kisses your knuckles. 

The world slows.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Even if you don’t remember. Even if you never say it.” His eyes hold you in place. Burning. Certain. There’s no hesitation in his voice. No tremble. Just absolute conviction—like he wasn’t stating a hope, but a law of the universe. 

Baby steps closer, the streetlights casting silver on his sharp features. His gaze drops to your lips like he’s already imagining how they’d feel crushed beneath his.

“You don’t have to love me back yet,” he says, voice low and velvet-dark. “But don’t ever think I’ll stop. Even if you don’t want us to take care of you. I’ll keep pushing.”

Your stomach flips. You hate how warm your skin feels. How part of you leans toward him without meaning to. How his scent—like storm-wet pine and danger—makes your fingers twitch with a need you can’t name. His hand lifts to your face, gentle despite the fire in his eyes, knuckles brushing your cheek like you might vanish if he touched too hard.

“If anyone else touches you again,” he adds softly, “I don’t care if they’re your customer. They won’t have hands left to touch with.”

You don’t answer.

But your heart races all the way home.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

After dinner, the boys were gathered on the second floor of the apartment. They had turned it into a studio to practice their choreo for performances. You could hear their music and their footsteps as they danced to the beat. 

You padded around the apartment to explore in the meantime. The apartment was massive. You didn’t realize how massive until you started walking. Every hallway turned into a gallery. Every room had windows tall enough to drown in. You passed a music room, a library, a room full of costumes and stage lights. You had no idea such penthouses existed in the city. But then again, they were demons who’d been in existence for hundreds of years. Who knows how much money they got.

On the kitchen counter, you found a sketchbook. Yours. But filled with things you didn’t remember drawing. Five faces. A moonlit shrine. A shattered sword. You still hadn’t gotten used to drawing what you figured were memories from your past lives. This was evidence in itself that they were telling the truth. You decide not to fight it anymore.

On the dresser, you find an earring. No pair. You picked it up and your chest twisted, it felt a bit familiar.

In the lounge, a scarf folded neatly on a velvet chair. You held it to your face and inhaled. A scent you couldn’t name, but the fabric felt soft. Again, familiar. 

You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. It was like finding single pieces of a gigantic puzzle. You were sure these things meant something to one of them. You’d ask, in time. 

After their practice was over, the boys found you sat in the livingroom. You were reading the book Romance had given you which made him smile. They greeted you one by one, some went off to shower, some to the kitchen for a snack. 

It was Jinu who sat next to you. 

“How’s the choreo going?” you ask, eyes never leaving the page. 

“Good. How’s the book?” He nodded. He knew how badly Romance had wanted to give that to you. 

“Good.” You looked up to softly smile at him. You were halfway through the story. The characters blurred together—tragic lovers separated by fate, drawn to one another through time. A story too close to your own.

Jinu looked at the book title with a gaze you couldn’t recognize. Like he was debating on something he wanted to say. 

“Did you want to hear another story?” 

That piqued your interest. You slowly shut the book, placing it down on the couch as a sign for him to continue. Jinu didn’t look at you. His gaze remained downcast. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. 

“I wasn’t always someone people bowed to.”

You looked up at him. The air around him seemed to change—heavier, stiller. Like his shadow was longer than it had been a second ago.

“I was born in a fishing village by the bay,” he said. “Back when the tides still carried salt and prayers.” 

“My mother was a seamstress. My sister was eight years younger. We were poor. Poor enough to boil weeds and pretend it was soup.”

Your breath caught. His eyes seemed distant. Far away as he recalled his life four hundred years ago. 

“The only thing we owned of value was a bipa. My mother’s. She taught me how to play it before her hands got too swollen to hold the strings.” His eyes went distant, haunted. “I played in the markets for coins. It was never enough.”

He paused, jaw tight. “Then one night, I heard a voice.”

“Gwi Ma offered me everything. Fame. Gold. Silk sheets and stages carved from jade. And I said yes.”

You stared at him. He finally met your eyes—and this time, the pain there was real.

“I left,” he whispered. “Without a word. My mother. My sister. I never even turned around. I don’t know if they lived another week.”

You released a breath as you felt your heart fracture at his words.

“I just… ran. Into the palace. Into adoration. And never looked back.”

He exhaled, eyes heavy with guilt. “The crowds worshipped me. I performed for kings and their consorts. They called me divine. The courtiers fought for my smile. And it still wasn’t enough.”

“I didn’t deserve peace,” he said, voice brittle. “But then I saw you.” His voice softened—fragile like old silk.

“You were a maid. You had ink on your fingers and a habit of humming while sweeping the floors. You didn’t bow. You didn’t flatter. You rolled your eyes at me.”

Your chest tightened. So that’s who you were in your past life when you first met him.

“And when I asked you why… you said I looked lonely.”

A pause.

“I fell in love with you the moment you looked at me like I was a boy. Not a god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But I made you weak. I brought you too close. It was impossible for someone like you, so pure of heart, to exist in that palace. I should’ve known there would be vipers waiting to strike.”

You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t.

“There was a concubine who used to love watching me play. She’d call upon me to her chambers for performances. Pay a hefty sum for an appearance in her parties. She saw you and I in one of the pavilions and she didn’t like it.” A look of anguish flashed on Jinu’s face. “I knew it was only a matter of time before someone found out. I wasn’t a fool. I knew the women of the palace liked me for more than just my voice.” His fists tightened on his lap. 

“She poisoned your tea. I found you in the gardens…you…you were still smiling.”

He blinked once. Just once. “You died in my arms. And I didn’t even know how to mourn.”

You stared at him, tears pricking your eyes. You wished so hard to remember. To recall who he was back then. Something, anything, so you could share a memory with him.

“I went back to Gwi Ma. I begged. I offered everything again.” He swallowed. “That’s when the pact began. He told me… if I could bind other demons to your soul, tether you tightly enough, you’d return.” His eyes flicked to yours. He was trembling.

“So I did. I found them. One by one. I gave up pieces of myself to forge the bond. Even if I had to share you, I- I was willing to do anything to have you back. I waited lifetimes. We all did.”

He reached out now, slowly, like you might disappear. “And now you’re here.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But your body leaned toward his—drawn like a string was being pulled behind your ribs. He exhaled shakily. “I still don’t know what happened to them. My mother. My sister. I never went back.”

You reached for his hand. Fingers brushing his wrist. It was the gentlest thing you’d ever done. Jinu held onto your touch like a lifeline as the pain of his memories came rushing back.

“I think… they’d forgive you,” you whispered. He laughed softly. Bitter. Grateful. “I don’t.”

And somehow that made you want to forgive him more. You let him pull you closer. Let your head fall beneath his chin, chest pressed lightly to his side. He held you like you might break. Like he didn’t deserve to hold you at all. This was the closest he’s ever been to you since first seeing you in that square. His heart constricted. 

“I won’t make the same mistake again,” he murmured. You felt the words against your scalp. “I will never leave you. Even if it kills me.”

You tilted your head up—slow, searching. His lips hovered a breath away. The look in his eyes was agonizing: pure want, reverence, restraint. He was begging without words.

And maybe you wanted to say yes. Maybe you wanted to close that distance.

But something in you hesitated. The memory of danger still ghosting your ribs. The smell of blood. The crackle of old fire. You shouldn’t want this. He was a demon.

But then again—

He was yours.

Jinu didn’t move. Not really. But his eyes…God, his eyes were starving.

Like a man who hadn’t eaten in centuries and now sat trembling before the one thing he was never allowed to touch. His fingers flexed once on his thigh, like he was holding himself back from grabbing you. From yanking you into his arms and claiming what had always been his.

His lips parted—his breath shallow. “I shouldn’t,” he whispered, voice ragged. “Not yet.”

That almost did it.

Not yet.

Not no.

He wasn’t denying that he wanted to. Only that he was trying—failing—not to. You felt something pulse low in your spine. The bond again. Soft and hot, like a wire coiling tighter. Tighter.

You leaned closer. Not much. Just enough for your shoulder to brush his chest. His breath hitched.

“Y/N…” he warned. Or maybe it was a plea. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But you did. You knew exactly.

Your hand grazed his chest—over fabric, over his heart. It beat like a war drum under your palm. And he—this ancient thing with a voice like honey and a soul soaked in sin—shook under your touch.

“You waited for me,” you said softly. “Across lifetimes.”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Every night. Every fucking century.”

“And now I’m here,” you whispered.

“And now you’re here.”

He reached up—finally—like a man about to touch something sacred. Fingers grazing your cheek so gently it made you ache. You didn’t flinch this time. You leaned into it. And when he cradled your face in his hands, it wasn’t just touch.

It was claim.

The bond lit up like a match to kerosene—searing, seeping through every crack in your soul like molten gold. You gasped. So did he. His forehead pressed against yours, and for a moment, the whole world narrowed to this.

Him. You. Breath tangled. Thread pulled tight. Two hearts beating like one. 

His voice broke against your mouth.

“I loved you. Before I even knew what love meant. I loved you in that garden. In that palace. In every life you bled through. I loved you while you died in my arms. And I love you now.”

Tears slowly gathered in the corner of your eyes at his confession. Your chest tightening with every word he uttered. Let all reason be damned. Nothing in the world could be more true right now, more real, than this.

Your lips brushed his when you exhaled. You didn’t mean to. You were just breathing—but it was enough.

It shattered him.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like this was his first meal in centuries. Like his immortality had meant nothing without this.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was ruinous. Possessive. His mouth moved against yours like he’d memorized it across time—hungry, reverent, desperate. Like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

And you…

You kissed him back.

Because some part of you remembered. The garden. The incense. The ache of his name in your mouth before it was ever spoken.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand slid to your waist. He groaned low in his throat when you pressed into him, fire threading under your skin, a live wire finally connected.

The kiss slowed. Deepened.

When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, his eyes were wild.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “You always were.”

And in that moment, you didn’t deny it.

Not this time.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The kiss hadn’t been loud.

Barely a sigh. A whisper of fabric. The faint rustle of limbs and emotion finally giving in.

But they felt it.

From different corners of the apartment, the bond trembled like a shared heartbeat. A hush fell over the rooms like snowfall. Every boy froze.

Abby paused in the hallway with his forehead pressed to the doorframe, eyes shut.

Romance stood motionless in the kitchen, hands tight around the edge of the marble counter, breath held like a confession.

Mystery curled beneath his bedsheets, face half-buried in the sleeve of your old hoodie, his claws twitching against the mattress.

Baby sat in the far window seat of the lounge, unmoving, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable—except for the slight twitch of his jaw.

They knew. They didn’t need to see it. They felt it through the bond—the hum, the spark, the slow unfurling of something sacred.

You kissed Jinu.

And something ancient and knotted in all of them unclenched. Not jealousy. Not really. It wasn’t rage or bitterness that stirred in their chests.

It was relief.

Because Jinu deserved this.

He had waited the longest. He had suffered the most. He had built the very foundation of the Crimson Pact with trembling hands and bloodied knees, driven by the memory of your lifeless body in his arms. He had found them. Bound them. Led them.

And now…He had finally been given a sliver of what he lost.

Abby exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His hand closed into a fist against the doorframe. “Good for you, hyung,” he whispered.

Romance closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling, the corner of his mouth lifting into a quiet, almost reverent smile. “Took him fucking long enough.”

Mystery blinked slowly, purring low in his throat. “She’s starting to remember,” he murmured into the blankets. “She’s letting herself feel it.”

And Baby… Baby didn’t move. But in his eyes, a hunger lit up. Not the kind that devoured. The kind that waited. That watched from the shadows with claws pressed to his ribs.

It would be his turn soon. He could wait. He’d waited before. But not much longer.

Across the apartment, the bond shimmered—warmer now. Alive in a way it hadn’t been in lifetimes. Each of them felt it. Not just the connection, but the hope.

She’s letting us in. She’s starting to fall again. Their hands twitched. Hearts pounded. Mouths parted with breathless need. And beneath it all, one singular thought pulsed through the Crimson Pact:

Soon, it’ll be me.

Not out of competition. Not to steal the moment. But because you belonged to all of them. And in every life, one by one… you had.

Jinu had always kissed you first.

But he would not be the last. TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ───────── A/N: Huaaah I died inside writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed this one. The next chapter follows the same theme of relationship building and we'll get to see more intimate moments and backstories of the other boys! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and feel free to Reblog and Like this chapter if you enjoyed it! Till next time! Willa x.

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Taglist: @faerie-soirxx @strayharmony943 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @anonymousewrites @cottonheadedninnymugggins @apelepikozume @moonlight-rosevine @yepitsmesendhelp @lovely-maryj @nonetheartist @ateezswonderland @sarah22447 @zuhaeri @enerofairy @littlemissfix-itfic @meeeegaaan @luxylucylou @hornehlittleweeblet2 @natllo @levifiance @lavnderluv @the-sweet-psycho @shinebright2000 @weponxwrites @raineandcl0uds @loomindoors @bearb33 @iv-vee @realifezompire @jamaicanqueen007 @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @unsolicitedopal @candylandrules @sleepyamaya @miffysoo @scaranao @bloobewy

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 6)

SO, IIDEK WHAT TO PUT AS SUMMARY BUT LOWKEY HUNTR/X X Y/N! Also, we get some Mystery backstory here! (Also if you wanna hear some bad covering of Your Idol here it is

IDOl

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

‘Technically we didn't follow you, we overheard you. We just happened to be in the vicinity of the conversation.’ Beom looked up to the left, refusing to meet Y/N’s eyes.

‘Y’know you can’t always get out of things by being cute. It doesn’t work that way.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, slumping onto the sofa face first. Watching their debut stage had really taken it out of her. Especially that walk back from the Huntr/x tower.

‘I’m cute?’ Beom’s eyes lit up, as if he were a puppy that had just been given a treat. Y/N could swear she saw a tail wagging behind Beom.

Was this what was known as the natural charm of a youngest group member? Even so, this man was over two huundred years old… Did demons mature in the underworld? Was it even possible to grow? Were they like vampires, just stuck mentally at their age forever? Y/N's mind whirled with unanswered questions.

‘I’m not repeating it.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, unlocking her phone. ‘Well, what's the plan? You have that variety show in about an hour.’

‘Well, seeing as the demon hunters know we have a shooting tonight, they’re probably gonna try to kill us after we finish.’ Jinu shrugged, he twisted the cap off an energy drink and passed it to Y/N.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled, sipping the drink. 

‘Would you be upset if we killed them?’ Min tilted his head, seated in Y/N’s gaming chair. Although the man's light purple hair was obscuring his eyes, Y/N could tell he was looking at her.

‘Yes, very.’ Y/N answered quickly, taking another swig of her drink.

‘Hm, okay.’ Min turned his head to Rae. ‘Looks like it’ll be a change of plans then.’

‘YOU GUYS WERE PLANNING ON KILLING THEM?’ Y/N stood up, pointing her fingers at the plotting boys.

‘Well they were planning to kill us too.’ Abel shrugged, handing out pink clothing to the group.

‘Aw man, not pink again.’ Jinu groaned, holding his shirt as far away from himself as he could possibly.

‘You said you looked good in any colour.’ Y/N laughed, pointing her drink bottle at him.

‘Ugh, that doesn't mean I have to like the colour.’ Jinu grumbled, lifting his shirt over his head.

‘HEY, I’M STILL IN THE ROOM.’ Y/N squawked, turning around, only to be met with the four other shirtless men in the middle of changing. The girl quickly covered her eyes with her hands, squatting down in embarrassment.

‘Oh, sorry. Bad habit.’ Jinu said from behind her. ‘I’m decent now.’

Y/N peeked out of her fingers up at the voice, seeing a guilty looking Jinu.

‘I should have warned you. My bad.’ He stuck out his hand to which Y/N grasped.

Y/N let herself be tugged up, as the rest of the boys finished changing their shirts.

‘Okay, time for pants.’ Rae handed out jeans, each in a different shade of pink.

‘I’M GOING TO MY ROOM, TELL ME WHEN YOU GUYS ARE DONE.’ Y/N sprinted into her bedroom door, slamming it shut behind her.

‘She’s so cute, I could just eat her.’ Min remarked, zipping himself up.

‘Huh.’ Beom turned around.

‘Isn’t that what the young people say about cute things? I could eat it?’ Min sat back down in the chair, shrugging his shoulders.

‘No you old man, I could just eat her up. You need to add the ‘up’ or it just sounds like you wanna take her soul.’ Beom shook his head, brushing off the lint on his jumper.

‘Huh, alright, noted.’ Min gave a quiet laugh, leaning back in the chair with his arms raised.

–

They boys had insisted on bringing Y/N along with them, saying that they needed a fake manager.

They somehow had no manager but they had a typical van that Idols would use to travel. Y/N could see that someone was driving the car but she had never seen the man before today. 

The boys were jabbering about how they would introduce themselves at the variety show and what they would do. They were sat in pairs, Jinu and Beom and Abel with Rae, leaving Min to sit next to Y/N. 

‘If you don’t have a manager, how in the world are you pulling all of this off?’ Y/N blanched, ‘And if you don’t even have a manager, do you have a company? How did you even release Soda Pop?’

‘Hypnosis, we can make anyone do our bidding. Why do you think this person’s driving the car?’ Min leaned down whispering in her ear, his face close to Y/N’s.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask. Can you even see?’ Y/N reached up, fingertips just brushing Min’s purple hair-

‘Not really.’ Min abruptly grasped Y/N’s hand, gripping it tightly.

‘Ow.’

‘Sorry.’ Min released Y/N’s wrist in an instant. ‘I…’ 

‘It’s ok. I shouldn’t have-’

‘No. It’s my fault. I’m just… I have a thing about my face.’ Min sighed, turning away as the rest of the boys continued their conversations, unaware as to the situation in the back seat.

‘Does it have something to do with your deal with Gwi-ma?’ Y/N slid her hands underneath her legs, kicking her feet slightly.

‘Yeah. It does.’ Min said, resting his chin on his fist. Y/N looked down at her feet, waiting for the man next to her to elaborate.

‘I had leprosy.’ Min said in a hushed whisper. ‘It was bad. It started with my hands and feet but it spread. The disease always spreads until eventually… I became blind.’

‘Oh…’

‘It was the fourteenth century so there was no cure and I had no family.’ Min sighed, turning to look at Y/N, hair still obscuring his face. ‘I was begging in the street, stumbling around blind when a group of men beat me with sticks, telling me to do them a favour and just die.’

‘Assholes.’ Y/N grumbled, crossing her arms.

‘Yes, they were.’ Min chuckled at her reaction, putting a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder before continuing. ‘And that was when I first heard Gwi-ma, whispering in my ear.’

‘What did he offer you?’ Y/N blinked, not noticing that the entire car had gone quiet.

‘He said he could take away my scars and help me get revenge on those who had wronged me.’ Min laughed, resting his head against his seat. ‘Now that I think about it, it was such a shallow deal. I barely got anything from it.’

‘You were hurting. Vulnerable.’

‘I was weak.’ Min shook his head, seemingly disappointed in himself.

‘Men have killed for less.’ Y/N noted, as the car slowed to a stop.

‘You’re right about that one I guess.’ Min chuckled, unbuckling Y/N from her seat before doing his own.

‘I honestly thought you were just hiding a big ass forehead.’ Y/N shrugged, stepping out of the car, following the rest of the boys into the studio.

‘HAH! I’ll have you know I was quite handsome before I got that stupid disease.’ Y/N could practically hear Min rolling his eyes.

‘Yeah yeah… Wait, fourteenth century… You have to be the oldest!’ Y/N bounced along, passing through the doors leading into the set.

‘Such a smart girl.’ Min hummed, leaning down.

‘Uh…’ 

Min smirked, combing back his bangs with one hand, revealing his face for a second. Y/N was stunned, eyes lingering on Min’s own ones.

He really was beautiful.

Hell, people would go to war for a face like that, regardless of Min being a man.

‘Wow.’ Y/N blinked, eyes bugged wide.

‘Hm, maybe Gwi-ma really did do me a favour.’ Min continued to smirk, letting his hair fall back into place, turning to walk onto the stage where the rest of the boys were filing onto.

‘Um-’

‘We’ll talk after the show.’ Min lifted Y/N’s chin gently, looking down at her through his hair.

‘Okay…’ 

‘That’s our girl.’ Min smiled, releasing her chin before walking onto stage with the rest of the boys.

‘Holy crap…’ Y/N gaped.

Min’s face was like nothing she’d ever seen. Imagine the most handsome man you knew, married the most beautiful woman on earth and had a baby. Not even then would that child compare to Min.

‘Huh, no wonder Zoey said he was just her type.’ Y/N mused, watching the hosts introduce the boys.

‘Who’s my type?’ A voice chimed in, merging into Y/N’s thoughts.

‘Zoey?’ Y/N spun around to face the three Hunt/x girls.

‘Twice in one day, aren’t we lucky.’ Mira smiled, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

‘Why are you here? Are you scouting out the competition?’ Rumi gave the ghost writer a tight hug, her leather outfit squeaking quietly.

‘Uh, actually I’m-’

‘Oh, OH! Maybe Y/N can watch us take out these demons! She’s never gone with us on a mission before!’ Zoey interrupted, her eyes wide and pleading.

Holy crap Zoey was good at puppy dog eyes. Y/N flickered her gaze between the boys who were now chugging hot sauce, for some reason, to Zoey’s begging eyes.

‘Okay, I’ll watch.’ Y/N agreed, unsure of how this would go down. In the original story this was where Jinu would see Rumi's patterns but... He already knew and so did the rest of the girls.

Rumi cheered quietly, ‘Great! Once they come off the stage, we’ll jump down for the attack!’

‘These boys will be-

‘Done, done, done!’ Zoey finished, as the girls let out evil giggles, as they climbed the steps behind the set, peeking over the set.

Y/N watched on nervously as Beom let out the most sarcastic ‘Goo goo, ga ga’ She’d ever heard in her life.

‘Oh boy…’ Y/N mumbled, glancing between the girls and her demon boyband.

‘Hard to goodbye when we’re having so much fun!’ One of the hosts said into the mic.

‘So hard! So hard…’ The other said, shaking his head in mock sadness.

Jinu took the mic, sending a little smirk to the side wings where Y/N was watching.

Oh no.

What was this man planning?

‘Then why say goodbye when we have an extra special guest coming up?’ He addressed the audience, guesting backstage.

‘What is he up to?’ Y/N mumbled, watching him walk towards her.

‘Oh HELL NO.’ She said, turning to run as Jinu grabbed the back of her collar.

‘Say hello to our writer and producer, Y/N!!’ Jinu cried out, practically dragging her on stage.

‘Ah haha- hi!’ Y/N waved awkwardly as the spotlights partially blinded her. The cheering from the crowd surprised her, as she squinted under the lights.

‘We have her to thank for writing our debut song!’ Abel smiled, as the rest of the boys came to stand around her.

‘Yeah! Thanks Y/N!’ Beom called out, as the group began to bow at her.

‘Wow so hot and respectful!’ The audience cheered, as the boys bowed.

‘Oh no… It was my pleasure.’ Y/N bowed back.

‘No really it was ours!’ The boys folded completely in half as Y/N gaped, shifting her eyes to see an angry looking Huntr/x on the side.

‘Well! That's all we have time for today!’ The hosts called, as the curtains began to close. ‘See you next time! Play Games With Us!’

‘What the hell was that?!'

‘Sorry Y/N, hold on tight!’ Abel smiled, lifting Y/N over his shoulder as the Saja Boys began to run out the back exit.

‘Y/N!’ The girls called, chasing after them, concern etched on the girl’s faces.

‘Girls!’ Y/N called out, stretching her hand out as the door swung shut in front of her.

The boys ran into the bathhouse, Y/N slumped over Abel's shoulder as the girls spotted Y/N still being carried off.

‘Over there! Let’s get our Y/N back!’

‘Aw man, we were just in a bathhouse this morning.’ Mira groaned, running along with the girls.

The girls opened the bathhouse door, peeking out one by one.

‘Aw man, it's a men’s bathhouse.’ Rumi whined, spotting half naked men.

‘Wow, did you guys really follow us in here?’ Jinu rolled his eyes, knowing damn well Huntr/x followed because they had taken Y/N with them.

‘Of course they did, that one’s always looking at our Y/N.’ Abel snarked, jumping slightly to bounce Y/N on his shoulder, receiving an oomf from the flopped over girl.

‘Give us back our Y/N!’ Zoey brandished her throwing knives.

‘You think we’re just gonna let you steal our Y/N and our fans?’ Rumi snarled, gripping her sword tightly. ‘You’re gonna have to fight us for both!’

‘Yeah, keep your hands off our girl.’ Mira backed Rumi up, lifting her moon blade. 

‘Heh, we’re not here to fight.’ Jinu shrugged, splaying his arms, as demons rose from the hot baths. ‘They are.’

‘Water demons.’ Rumi narrowed her eyes.

‘Oh great. My favourite.’ Mira cheered sarcastically, eyes darting to count how many were now slowly surrounding the group.

‘Get rid of the hunters. Then, you can eat all the souls you want.’ Jinu smirked, placing a hand on the water demon in front of him.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N called out, as the rest of the boys ran through the bathhouse, leaving Huntr/x behind.

‘Have fun!’ Jinu ran out, almost slipping on a puddle of water. 'Ah crap.'

Zoey and Mira were slashing through the demons, killing several each second.

‘GO get back Y/N!’ Mira called out to Rumi, slicing through a group of demons.

‘But there's so many!’ Rumi protested, twisting away from a pair of demon claws.

‘Y/N’s alone with them, we need to go get her!’ Zoey threw her daggers, hitting two in the face.

‘GO rumi! We’ll catch up.’ Mira called out, flipping through the air and slamming her blade into the ground, causing a wave of the demons to be vaporised.

‘Okay!’ Rumi flipped over a demon, rushing toward the door that she had seen the boys run through.

‘You promised you wouldn’t kill them. Y/N protested, still being carried by Abel.

‘Technically, we’re not.’ Jinu giggled, running forward, oblivious to Rumi advancing behind him.

‘Gimmie back my Y/N!’ Rumi slashed at the man with her sword, catching his shirt slightly as Jinu ducked almost too late.

‘‘She’s mine.’ Jinu snarled, throwing a bucket at Rumi. He jumped as he slashed at Rumi’s arm with his claws, cutting a piece of her clothing off her arm, drawing blood.

‘AH.’ Rumi cried out, clutching at her arm.

The wall burst open, Mira and Zoey had kicked a demon straight through.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N called out, reaching toward her, as she was carried further away. Jinu turned at the sound of Y/N’s voice, snapping him out of his violent haze.

'DON'T HURT HER.' Y/N cried out, her frustration leaking into her voice.

‘Better help your friends. They look like they need it.’ Jinu smirked, running towards the exit without a second glance.

‘Y/N!’ Rumi shouted desperately as she slashed through the demons that were still emerging from the bathhouse pools.

‘I’ve never seen the Honmoon like this before! There are tears everywhere!’ Zoey threw her knives, each finding their mark.

‘I think it’s because the Saja Boys are stealing the fans! It’s weakening the Honmoon!’ Mira grunted as she stuck her spear into the ground, allowing Rumi to swing on it to gain momentum.

The girls panted with exertion as they finally cleared out the room.

‘What are you doing here! This is the men's bathhouse!’ An elderly man grouched, shooing the girls away as they apologised profusely.

‘Hmph.’ The man sat down on his stool, going back to scrubbing his arms.

‘My little soda pop.’ The man hummed, as a water demon arose silently from the waterbucket, inhaling the mans soul.

–

Y/N groaned, as Abel finally let her down as the elevator doors opened. 

‘I think I'm carsick.’

‘I’m not a car…’ 

‘Whatever, Y/N shook her head, steadying herself. ‘Jinu you hurt Rumi!’ 

‘She literally tried to take my head off Y/N.’ Jinu rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defiantly.

‘But she didn’t.’ Y/N protested, gesturing wildly before stumbling, putting her hand on her head. 

Jinu was at her side in an instant, clutching at the arms gently.

‘Tired?’ Jinu’s tone changed from annoyance to worrisome in a flash. ‘If you want, I can whip up something quick. Or you can go to sleep now.’

‘Just a headache, I think the all-nighters are catching up with me.’ Y/N slowly sat down on the couch with Jinu’s help.

“Can we get you anything Y/N?’ Rae kneeled down next to her, checking her forehead temperature. ‘Your forehead is a little warm Do you have any medication at home?'

'It'd all probably be out of date.' Y/N shook her head, laying down on her side, face against the couch cushions as the boys fussed over her.

‘Did she eat lunch?’

‘No I don’t think so.’

‘Should we-’

‘Mm, need to shower…’ Y/N whined, burying her face further into the couch cushion. 

‘Okay, come on. Up we get.’ Abel heaved Y/N into his arms bridal style. Y/N grouched, her eyes closed as she shifted in the demon’s well built arms, smushing her face into his chest.

Jinu raised his eyebrows, watching his biggest friend turn slowly bright pink in the face.

‘Heh, look at Abel, he’s blushing.’ Beom jeered, pointing.

‘Shut up. Don’t act like you wouldn’t be the exact same way if she was doing it to you.’ Abel spat out quietly. Beom in return, held up his hands in mock surrender.

‘You slipped in before I could!’

‘You snooze, you lose.’ Abel stuck out his tongue, walking towards the bathroom, separate from her ensuite. ‘Hey, are you sure you’ll be able to stay awake while you shower?’ 

‘Can I just sleep?’ Y/N groaned, shifting into a more comfortable position in Abel’s arms.

‘You said you wanted to shower.’ Abel hummed, finding his way to Y/N’s room instead.

‘Here, lay her down and I’ll wipe her face.’ Min appeared behind, holding a wet towel, doused in warm water. 

As Abel slowly (and reluctantly) detangled Y/N’s limbs from his own, Min gently rubbed Y/N’s cheeks with the towel. Abel turned to go turn off the bedroom light so Y/N wouldn’t squint.

‘Y’know, I think-’ Suddenly Min disappeared in a puff of smoke.

‘Wot?’ Abel blinked, looking at the empty space where Min was, now replaced by the wet towel on the floor.

‘Uhh, Abel?’ Beom came into the room, looking confused. ‘Jinu 형 (hyung) and all the others just poofed.’

‘Wait, did Gwi-ma just take them back?’ Abel blinked, looking at Y/N who was now out cold in her bed.

‘I think so… their patterns were glowing.’  Beom mumbled from behind his fist, looking confused. But, we didn’t get taken. Why?’

‘Could it be?..’

Both boys turned to look at the sleeping girl, who was now drooling slightly.

‘Mm, ramen…’ Y/N mumbled, before turning over in the bed.

‘Did she-’

‘It couldn’t be..’

–

Meanwhile the boys had been pulled back, slamming into the ground as they landed.

'Saja Boys! Saja Boys!’ The demons chanted, looking at the group, waving lightsticks around.

The boys looked around, slightly irritated that they were no longer in Y/N’s apartment.

‘Wait where’s-’ Jinu began, before being interrupted by a loud shout from a demon in the crowd.

‘Look! Souls incoming!’

And they were. Streaking across the sky were blue lights, finding their place in the fire behind three of Saja Boys.

‘My little soda pop.’ The flames hummed, ‘It’s catchy.’

‘Surprisingly your little plan is working.’ Gwi-ma said, almost as a challenge.

‘I know. So lemme get back to work and you’ll be feasting in no time.’ Jinu plastered a fake smile, a charming one nonetheless.

‘Except, two of your friends. I can no longer see them. Are they dead?’

‘Yes.’ Jinu answered, thinking quickly, ‘But we’ll kill all of the hunters before they get the rest of us.’ 

Gwi-ma was wrong about them being dead, but he was right about not controlling the boys. Abel and Beom had not been dragged back to the underworld with the rest of the group. Jinu knew they weren’t dead but… How come they weren’t here? How had they escaped Gwi-ma’s control?

‘I’ve taught you well Jinu.’ The giant flame chuckled as the Saja Boys disappeared again, into a puff of pink smoke.

–

As the boys reappeared in Y/N’s apartment, the doorbell began to ring. Jinu frowned, turn around to see that the Huntr/x girls were covered in scratches, waiting to be buzzed up on the monitor.

‘Go wakeup Y/N.’ Jinu said, ‘Tell her the hunters are here. Abel and Beom, we need to talk.’ 

As the boys slinked into one of Y/N’s spare rooms. Rae knocked on Y/N’s door before opening, knowing that the girl would sleep through the knocking.

‘Y/N? The Huntr/x girls are here, they’re waiting to be buzzed in.’ He gently shook the shoulder of the sleeping girl.

‘Wha?’ Y/N rasped, turning over to face Rae.

‘Huntr/x is down stairs.’

‘Oh my gosh!’ Y/N sat up immediately, flinging her covers back and slipping her flip flip’s on. She rushed to buzz them in, before looking around her apartment.

‘Where’d the boys go? Doesn’t matter, you guys have to hide! Go in-’ Y/N opened her spare room to see the rest of the Saja Boys, already hiding in the room. 

‘Uh, we’ll be in here as you guys talk.’ Beom gave a hopeful smile. 

‘Do you guys ever go back to your own apartment?’ Y/N slapped a hand to her forehead.

‘No not really.’ Min shook his head.

‘We only got it because-’ 

‘We’ll talk later. The room is soundproofed but still be quiet!’ Y/N closed the door, just as the elevator began to beep happily.

‘Y/N!’ Rumi rushed forward checking Y/N all over, a teddy bear band aid covering her cheek.

‘Y/N you’re safe!’ Zoey rushed forward, pulling Y/N into a hug.

‘We were so worried.’ Mira sighed, walking forward, holding a bag.

‘Girls, I’m sorry. I really am the writer of their music.’

‘It’s okay. They must have forced you into it.’ Rumi shook her head, guiding Y/N to the kitchen island. ‘Come on, sit. You probably haven’t eaten all day!’

Y/N’s stomach gurgled loudly in reply.

Traitor.

‘Erm.’ Y/N rubbed her neck in embarrassment. ‘How did you guys know?’

‘You never eat if you’re working and today was…’ Zoey trailed off.

‘Y/N, are you okay?’ Mira set down the bag of kimbap before rummaging through the cupboard to find a plate.

‘Yeah, you must have been so scared.’ Rumi touched a hand to Y/N’s shoulder.

‘No, Rumi are you okay? Your arm, did you disinfect it before you bandaged it?’ Y/N hurriedly lifted Rumi’s shirt sleeve, relieved to see a bandage wrapped around it. The purple haired girl had been wearing shorter sleeves since she had told the rest of the girls about her patterns.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.’ Rumi smiled, looking content. ‘We’ve all had a lot worse.’

‘Still…’ Y/N frowned, putting her head in her hands. ‘I don’t want you guys getting hurt. I don’t want the Saja Boys to take souls either-’

‘Y/N calm down, we know you have your reasons, whatever they may be.’ Mira hushed Y/N, sliding a plate of kimbap toward her.

‘But-’

‘We trust you.’

‘But we do need to get our fans back. Have you seen the Honmoon? I’ve never seen it so bad.’ Zoey sighed, resting her head on her arms face down.

‘We could record What It Sounds Like! That’ll be-

‘No, I have a better song!’ Y/N dashed toward her gaming set up, snatching up her book. ‘It’s called Takedown!’

‘Oh?’ Rumi hummed, giving the rest of Huntr/x a knowing smile. ‘Our Y/N’s a musical genius isn’t she.’

‘No. It’s you guys, you inspire me so much!’ Y/N flipped the pages to Takedown. ‘Let me know what you think!’

The girls gathered around the notebook, scanning the lyrics.

‘Break you into pieces in a world of pain, cause you’re all the same?’ Mira muttered, flipping through the pages.

‘Wow, Y/N, if you wrote a love song for me, I think I’d fall in love with you.’ Rumi cocked her head, giving Y/N a smile that she couldn’t place.

‘Rumi, focus.’ Mira laughed, patting the purple haired girl on the shoulder. ‘You can flirt with our girl when we grind these Saja Boys into the dust.’

A thump came from inside the spare bedroom.

The huntr/x girls didn’t hear it but, Y/N swear she heard someone make a noise of protest.

‘This is exactly what we need.’ Rumi nodded in approval, flicking through the lyrics. ‘We have two weeks until the Idol Awards. We’ll release the song then! Is that enough time? I don’t want you to overwork yourself Y/N.’

‘I’ll be fine! I just have to do Takedown and What It Sounds Like.’ Y/N nodded enthusiastically. 

‘You don’t have to do both Y/N.’ Zoey fretted, as Y/N moved to go boot up her PC.

‘But if you release both, you can do it as a joint stage! You could make the Honmoon golden! Fix all the cracks!’ Y/N bounced in her seat, pulling up her digital audio station.

‘Y/N, if you overwork yourself you’ll get sick. If you think you can do it, go ahead, but make sure you’re getting enough rest.’ Rumi laid a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her tone was akin to an owner scolding their puppy.

‘I can do it!’ Y/N pouted, looking up at Rumi.

‘Alright then.’ Rumi sighed, laughing quietly. ‘You’re so cute when you’re excited, it’s hard to say no to you.’

‘Right? I could just keep her in my pocket!’ Zoey sat down gazing at Y/N while she slid on her headphones, testing out her midi controller.

She had since forgotten the Saja Boys in her spare room, now focusing on replicating the beat in her head, using a thick bass sound to replicate the electro punk sound.

'Hey, can you guys stay so I can get a few recordings?' Y/N stared into the computer, frowning as she adjusted her mic settings for the girls.

'Yeah sure!'

'Perfect.'

The girls worked into the night, making a rough version of Takedown for Y/N to edit.

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[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 7

A/N: Thank you for 1,500 followers!

Okay, this is the last official part of this short series but I have more ideas for headcanons and one-shots for this series! Like, first kisses with the boys, maybe a smut, the Saja Boys and Mira and Zoey confronting Celine about how she raised the mc and Rumi, etc. So if you have ideas about headcanon or one-shot ideas tied to this series, you can send it to my inbox or add it in the comments!

I hope this is as satisfying as you guys hoped it would be!

TW: Grief, mourning, etc.

Word Count: 3,718

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

Rumi sighed pleasantly, sinking deeper into the hot water as steam wafted around her. “Wow. This feels amazing.”

“We’ve been saying that for years,” Mira groaned contently, her eyes barely slipping open to look at her.

“Right? See what you’ve been missing?” Zoey mused, a loopy grin on her face.

“Oh yeah. I wanna come here every day of our three month hiatus…”

“Girls, I’m so glad you and (Y/n) didn’t, like, die…?” Zoey suddenly brought up, grimacing at her own words.

“Wow Zoey, way to be super literal,” Mira smirked, peaking her eyes open to look at their maknae lazily. “But same.”

Zoey started blubbering, sniffling and trying to stop but it was pointless, “I just… you guys just mean so much to me, and I don’t really know what I’d do without you…” Zoey descended into incomprehensible tearful babbling.

Zoey’s tears began Mira’s own crying and then Rumi followed right after them.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head from where you sat between your sister and Mira as the three blubbered.

How did you get to this point again…?

~~~

Rumi gripped your sword tighter in her hands, not minding if the blade cut her hand. She refused to let go of it as the three girls silently made their way back to the tower after leaving Namsan tower. They had reassured Bobby that everything was okay and that they would actually be taking that break now. But, they still had a lot to talk about—Rumi’s past, the Saja Boys, their fight… you.

There was a space besides them that felt achingly empty as they went up the elevator.

The three silently traipsed from the elevator, their steps heavy as they sat on the couch. They sat in mournful silence, gathered around the sword that had come from your soul.

Eventually, Mira set a hesitant hand on Rumi’s shoulder. “Rumi…” she sighed, her heart clenching at what she would have to say. “You have to let it go at some point.”

Rumi held your sword tighter in response, a drop of blood staining the rug beneath them. A tear fell from her eye. “No.”

“Rumi…” Zoey sighed softly, resting her hand on Rumi’s other shoulder, leaning her head on Rumi’s sadly.

“No,” Rumi shook her head adamantly. “I won’t let her go.”

“But, the sword isn’t her, Rumi,” Mira tried to tell her. Logically, she knew this. But a part of her didn’t want Rumi to let go of the sword either.

“I know,” Rumi choked out. “I know that, but… it’s the last part of her in this world. How can I let that go?”

Mira and Zoey were quiet, unable to say anything because there wasn’t anything to say in this situation. All they could do was offer comfort to each other as they mourned the loss of their sister, Rumi’s cries filling the silence.

Rumi knew she would have to let the sword go and once she did, it would dissipate into the rainbow Honmoon. She couldn’t think of sleeping or eating or doing anything if it meant there was a chance of her letting go of your sword.

But she had to let you rest.

“(Y/n)… I’m so sorry for the way I treated you,” Rumi told your sword, your soul humming through it. “I wasn’t a good sister for you and I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should’ve done better for you… Thank you for protecting me when I needed it most, and I hope you can forgive me someday… I love you…”

Zoey set her hand over Rumi’s on the blade of your sword, “(Y/n), I’m sorry for not hearing you out. You’ve always listened to me and the one time it counted, I didn’t return it… From now on, I’ll do better at listening. And I’ll write a super sweet song in your memory! Just… I hope you know that you were like a sister to me, (Y/n).” Zoey wiped her eyes, laughing wetly as she rested her head on Rumi’s shoulder.

Mira sighed, placing her hand over Zoey’s on your sword blade, “I’m… sorry (Y/n). I jumped ahead and called you a traitor without even hearing you out… I’ve never been great at expressing myself, but… you always just accepted me, even when I was being prickly. I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor. I hope you know that you’ll always be family to me.”

The three girls were silent. They knew the time had come to let you go but they held on just a little bit longer. Just a little bit more time with you…

“Goodbye… (Y/n)…” Rumi whispered tearfully. Slowly the girls let go of your sword. They watched as it floated from Rumi’s lap, the sword dissipating in a cruel reflection of the way you died, bit by bit fading out until it was a floating orb of light purple, pink and blue hues.

The girls were breath taken but their hearts were heavy as they watched. They had never seen something like this before. It was more beautiful than the Honmoon itself, watching your soul depart.

They blinked when the one orb suddenly split into several. Five orbs of different shades of light purple and pink and blue circled around a single orb in the middle, flying and swirling around it… happily. Then the orb in the middle seemed to shake itself, perking up as it joined the joyful dance around each other, dipping and spinning and chasing each other faster and faster until the girls had to close their eyes as the lights combined and got too bright.

“AH!”

The girls’ eyes popped open when they heard the sudden yelp and several thumps. Their eyes widened at the sight before them, latching onto each other in shock, “Ahhhh!”

“Ahhhh!”

“AhHHHH!”

“AhHHHH!”

“Why are we screaming!?”

“(Y/N)!” The girls scrambled off the couch in a rush of tangled limbs and tackled you. The breath was knocked out of your lungs and your back hurt from landing so harshly on the ground, not once but twice.

You honestly had no idea what happened. One moment you were singing with the Saja Boys and then Rumi arrived and reunited with Mira and Zoey. And Rumi was buckling under the force of Gwi Ma and then you were shielding her. After that, your memories were vague. You had some fuzzy memories of… being a sword…? Had you been dreaming?

“Wait, (Y/n)?!” You heard Kwan’s voice and then the bundle of four girls was being lifted so you could be squished by five more people.

You were confused for a moment as you were surrounded by eight sobbing young adults. But then you felt your heart warm and you smiled, tears trailing down your own face at the feeling of being so loved.

“We thought you were dead!”

“Never do that again!”

“You stupid idiot!”

“Don’t scare us like that…”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n)!”

Yeah… You wouldn’t trade the world for your eight blubbering babies.

“Sorry for worrying you guys…” You apologized, offering comfort in whatever way you could with your arms squished to your sides.

“Wait a minute,” Mira’s eyes were suddenly dry, snapping open to look slowly at the Saja Boys that were in their group hug. “What are you doing here?!”

The group hug suddenly dispersed, the Saja Boys on one side, Mira, Zoey, and Rumi on the other with you in the middle of the two groups, whipping your head back and forth between the two groups with wide, confused eyes.

‘Did they… not work together after you… died…?’

The Saja Boys awkwardly side-eyed each other.

“Didn’t you guys die or something?!” Zoey yelled.

Your head whipped around to look at the boys who sheepishly avoided your gaze, “Wait. You guys died?! How?!”

“Uhm,” Rumi started, “After you… died, they kinda just surrendered and started flaking away Thanos style.”

Your eyes widened at Rumi’s explanation. Then your head whipped back around to look at the guys who were slowly backing away. “You guys just gave up?!”

Jinu shrugged awkwardly, his shoulders going up to his ears as he avoided your eyes with a grimace, “Well… You died and…”

“We swore to follow wherever you wanted to go,” Hyeon explained more bluntly, the slightest bit of a whine in the tone of his voice. Not a childish whine, more like the whine of a scolded dog.

“So you decided to follow me into death?!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms incredulously. You sighed and facepalmed, closing your eyes in defeat. “We all need therapy. Like, now.”

“Might be hard with your current look,” Mira smirked, looking you up and down pointedly. “You look sick though.”

You blinked, looking down at yourself. Oh. You still had a lot of your demon features. Your skin color was back to normal, if a little more gray than before, and the patterns were a lot lighter. But your fingers were a normal length now, your claws weren’t as long now. But you could feel that your teeth were still sharper than a normal human’s and your eyes still glowed amber at you in your reflection in the window.

You looked back at the boys and their appearances had changed as well. Their reaper clothes were gone, back in their human clothes now. Their skin tones weren’t the dark lilac they had been before, more of a gray now as well. Their patterns weren’t purple anymore, they looked closer to black now, more like tattoos. Other than that, most of their other features were still the same.

“Oh,” You blinked. “I think I’ll be alright once my eyes chill, but the boys…” You trailed off. “Can you guys still use your demon powers?”

“Maybe. It feels a little limited though…” Kwan responded.

“We can try though,” Jum chimed in. One by one a ripple of demon energy pulsed over the boys, leaving them with normal skin tones and eyes, no claws and their teeth much less sharp.

You tilted your head at them though, “You guys kept your patterns?” You noted. The black markings were only a light purple now but still covered their arms and necks, their faces the only things they had cleared of patterns. (Like how Jinu looked when Gwi Ma summoned him after the bathhouse fight).

The boys simply smiled, “We couldn’t let you and your sister have all the fun,” Jinu smirked cheekily.

Your heart warmed and you blushed, wanting to coo over the sweet gesture. You stepped towards them, raising your hands to cradle Jum and Hyeon’s faces as the five boys gravitated towards you. “I love you boys. So much.”

The boys’ eyes teared up, their emotions crashing through them leaving them feeling too much all at once. You had died. And they thought you weren’t coming back. You are their hope, their guiding light. So they had followed you.

And now you were all here again, with them. And the Honmoon had been sealed. They hadn’t planned for that.

They were in the human world for good now. There would be no more second chances for them, this was officially it. So, for you, they would do their best to choose better. They had no doubts that you would accept them, flaws and all. But you deserved better than they were.

The six of you would need time. The things you all did, for each other and for themselves were things that they couldn’t just forget or accept as part of themselves just yet. Maybe that was why you all retained so many demonic features.

However, for now? They clutched you tight, wrapping you in their arms as they clutched at whatever part of you they could reach. They closed their eyes as tears dripped down cheeks, leaning their heads against yours as they felt your warmth, breathed in your scent, swallowed back their fading grief.

“Please don’t leave us again…”

The six of you stood together for a long moment, basking in each other’s presence to reassure each of you that you were all there and all alive.

Rumi stepped forward and the boys tensed around you, still weary of the Hunters. You moved to stand in front of them, a barrier between your sister and the boys. Rumi ignored them though, taking your hands in hers, “(Y/n), I’m so sorry for how I treated you. Nothing I say could ever make up for what I did, the lack of appreciation I’ve shown you in the past few years… But I hope you can forgive me someday and we can rebuild our relationship.”

Mira and Zoey joined, adding their hands on top of yours to make it a little huddle as they rested their free hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to what you had to say, (Y/n). You’ve always listened to me and I should’ve done the same,” Zoey added softly.

“And I’m sorry for calling you a traitor and… saying we’d kill you…” Mira added slowly, looking down in shame and guilt. “I should’ve heard you out and accepted you like you’ve always done for me…”

You smiled gently, cursing internally at your watering eyes. “Thanks girls…” Your smile fell into a small frown as you looked at your joined hands. “I don’t know if I can forgive you three yet, and I’ll definitely never forget, but I do love you guys and want to rebuild our relationships.”

The girls smiled sadly but they accepted your words easily. Whatever you needed. The four of you would have to talk more, there was still the conversation of how you and Rumi had kept your patterns hidden hanging over them. But that could be another time.

“So…” Jinu broke up the tender moment. “Can we stay the night?” He gestured to the other boys and himself.

The girls blanched. “Uhm. No.” Mira refused bluntly.

“Come on,” Kwan groaned, crossing his arms with a frown, “You’re not the only ones who lost (Y/n) when she…”

“Yeah,” Chungae swooped in, covering up how Kwan trailed off. “We were asking more out of courtesy than anything.”

Mira growled, the two fellow pinkettes grating on her nerves. But Zoey, ever the chipper girl, gasped excitedly as she had a realization, “We can have a sleepover! We can all sleep out here and order food and eat a bunch of junk food and get to know each other!”

And that was how you ended up at a sleepover with your five demon… boyfriends? Well, no one really wanted to leave your side that day.

Or any of the days that followed.

~~~

After that, the girls and the guys had gotten at least… a little more comfortable with each other.

It got better when the boys helped the four of you find the returning souls of the fans. They would just appear in different places around the city, lost and confused, having no memories of what had happened to them or how much time had passed.

During your sleepover, the nine of you had brainstormed and made a statement that you had a health scare which raised tension within Huntr/x, especially since you had wanted to debut as a solo performer, but the boys had supported you even through the health scare. This statement would explain to fans why the pallor of your skin had shifted just a little and also mention how you and Rumi had been born with birth defects that you both had tried hard to hide up till now.

The fans were supportive, glad that the group was taking a hiatus to rest and recover. A lot of fanart of you and Rumi with your patterns and supportive captions filled social media. The fans were especially giddy when the Saja Boys had explained when asked by a fan that they had gotten tattoos in support of their girlfriend, making it official. More fanart came after that.

After the girls and you had talked it out, it seemed like Rumi, Zoey, and Mira were much closer. It was only a matter of time in your opinion, until the three became Polytr/x. The boys agreed with you.

“Couch, couch, couch!” The four of you chanted as you left the bathhouse.

“(Y/n), are you sleeping at the tower tonight?” Rumi asked you.

“Mira’s cooking tonight!” Zoey cheered.

“I’m gonna burn your taste buds off,” Mira smirked proudly. There was a reason people called her the ‘Spice Queen.’ After what happened and you spending more time out of the tower, the girls had started trying their hands at cooking and taking up more chores.

You chuckled, “Sorry girls, I told the boys we could have a movie night. I’ve kinda gotten them hooked on Disney and Ghibli movies…”

Mira snickered, “Good. Don’t be too surprised if I pop in tonight. Gotta get my revenge on Chungae and Kwan,” she punched her hand, the fire of competitive determination flaring in her eyes.

Yeah… Chungae, Kwan, and Mira were having some kind of competition every other day it seemed. Lately, they had taken to surprise Nerf attacks, gaining and losing points based on successful hits assassin style. Last weekend, Jum had joined their spicy food contest and trumped all three of them smugly.

Zoey and Hyeon got along surprisingly well when her fangirling over him had died quickly. You would often see Zoey rambling excitedly as Hyeon nodded along, a small smile on his lips as the younger girl painted his nails.

And Jinu and Rumi acted like the siblings that neither ever wished for. After Jinu apologized and the two talked it out, the two went back to building their friendship. Jinu found amusement in poking at Rumi’s buttons, the two often bickering or debating over little things. But they also often had deep talks or talked about music ideas.

You didn’t wanna think about the shovel talk the girls gave to your boys… You weren’t supposed to overhear, but you were trying your hand at baking in the kitchen and the girls didn’t really know how to be very discreet…

“Oh!” Zoey gasped in remembrance, shaking your arm excitedly, “We gotta work on that collaboration song soon! I have so. Many. Ideas!”

Oh yeah. You had also decided to debut as a solo artist after the whole ‘Your Idol’ fiasco. Fans had accepted the ‘Your Idol’ x ‘What It Sounds Like’ concert as just another show, but had started flooding the internet with theories of who the female singer with the Saja Boys had been. Since you were under dim, red lighting and in demon form, no one had been able to recognize you—although there were some theories that it was you.

Even after those events, it wasn’t hard for you to realize that you wanted to keep performing—keep singing and dancing on stage. Both Huntr/x and the Saja Boys had offered for you to join their groups, almost fighting each other for the right to have you, but you ultimately decided to be a solo artist. You felt like if you had joined either of the groups, you would fall into old habits and become too passive. But you had accepted Bobby’s offer on being your manager since you two had worked together for so long.

Bobby still grumbled about how the Saja Boys didn’t have a manager or anything yet but was satisfied when they had signed under the company so they had access to the billions worth of resources.

You chuckled, nodding, “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of ideas to share too.” You kinda blinked when you realized Zoey was wearing an oversized yellow hoodie with Derpy the Tiger’s face on it. ‘Where had she gotten that…? Was Jinu making Derpy merch…?’

The four of you stopped when you noticed four girls in Huntr/x merch meeting up just up ahead. “Aw, look at them. They’re so cute.”

“You know, I feel like we got a nice little break,” Rumi mused with a smile.

“Yeah, I definitely feel recharged,” Mira agreed easily, crossing her arms.

“Me too. I thought I wanted couch, but I think couch can wait,” Zoey leant on Rumi’s arm. “(Y/n)?”

You smiled, “I got time ‘till the boys will start feeling withdrawal,” You shrugged.

Together, the four of you walked over, “Hi everyone!” Rumi called, the four of you waving at the shocked girls. You weren’t surprised when you kind of fell to the wayside of things as the girls started gushing over Rumi, Zoey, and Mira.

You were surprised when one of the girls turned to you, “And (Y/n) too! There’s rumors going around that you’re gonna debut as a solo artist soon! I just finished a drawing of you and the Saja Boys, would you please sign it?”

You blinked. You had never been asked to sign something unless it was paperwork. You were shaken from your thoughts by an arm resting on your shoulders. You looked up to see it was Kwan, “Wouldn’t you like to have the full set?”

“Guys? What’re you doing here?” You asked curiously with a fond smile.

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, a nose pressed to the crook of your neck, “Missed you,” Hyeon murmured simply.

“I’ve only been gone a few hours,” You jokingly rolled your eyes. You rested your hands over his, leaning back against him affectionately.

“Even a few minutes away from you is too much, darling,” Chungae smirked at his smooth line while you shook your head at his antics.

“A few seconds is more like it,” Kwan pouted dramatically.

“You’ll let me choose the movie tonight, right, beautiful?” Jum tugged on your sleeve to get your attention.

“You and Chungae picked ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ last time, Jum, let someone else pick,” Jinu chided the maknae with a little smirk, smiling at you fondly. He turned to look at the girl who looked like she was about to erupt, shaking with excitement and a huge grin on her face, “Is it alright if we signed your drawing too?”

“Of course!”

Yeah, there were still things you needed to do. Therapy being one of them. But for now, you were safe, loved, and comfortable. You were happy.

A/N: Yeah, so the mc and the Saja Boys don’t kiss or anything here, that’ll be in the parts I write later because it just didn’t feel right…?

Go read the Celine Confrontation!

Outtakes:

*During Part 6*

The Saja Boys, Huntr/x, everyone: *Battle ready* “We are going to protect/save (Y/n)!

You: “I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this…”

(This one was by @ph1lo-s0ph1a and I thought it was great!)

…

*Inside the Sword*

You: *Looking around at the rainbow glow, sparkles, and constellations floating around you* “…Am I high…?”

The Saja Boys: *Somewhere* “(Y/N)!? WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Mystery: *sobbing*

Abby: *trying to swat sparkles out of his face so he can find you*

Jinu: *Habitually trying to summon Derpy and Sussie to search for you*

Baby: *squinting from the too bright rainbow glows* “I can’t see her…”

Romance: *Using the stars to spell out your name to try and signal you, sobbing* “(Y/n)…”

…

*Back during Part 3*

The Saja Boys: *Trying to decide who gets to spend time with you in what order* “Okay… Rock Paper Scissors!” “Ah, NO!” “Betrayed!” “Damn.” “Hehehe!”

…

You: *Looking at Rumi, Mira, and Zoey seriously* “Look. Rumi is my twin sister. But you two are also sisters to me.”

Mira and Zoey: *touched and teary eyed* “Awww…”

You: “Therefore. If any of you hurts one another, I will, objectively, have to kill all of you in the most gruesome way I can manage—which is a lot because I have five demon boyfriends and my own demonic abilities now.”

Polytr/x: *grimacing* “Oh, yeesh…”

…

Romance: “(Y/n) will you be the Sophie to my Howl?”

You: “I don’t know, are you gonna get me a flying castle and a talking fire demon?”

Romance: *Getting Gwi Ma flashbacks* “Uhmmmm…”

…

Tag list: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[kukinkrim]

no demon is good enough for my sister!

saja boys x jinu's sister!reader (separate)

note: this prompt was sent via ask o(^o^)o i roughly translated it to english so i apologize if i got your request wrong TT

hell was a cruel, lonely place to be.

it wasn’t the the searing flames that littered across their lands, or the constant screams of souls in despair, or even the endless, crushing weight of torment.

no, it was the emptiness that got you. the kind that wrapped itself around your soul and whispered that you’re all alone. that no one in the surface remembers who you are and you are chained down in the pits of hell with broken memories to live by.

there was no sun in hell. no sky. the only thing that could come close to a sun is gwi-ma, a literal ball of flame, sitting on his throne as he relishes in the suffering of his people.

you forget who you were after a while.

perhaps, your brain hotwired itself in order to cope. maybe, the past was just too painful to be remembered.

that's when jinu found you.

he wasn’t much to look at back then—just another unfortunate thing that got too close to the sun—but he saw you.

you, this little scrap of a soul, barely hanging on, barely even remembering your own name. he didn’t ask why you were there as he knelt, took your hand, and said, “you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

maybe, you reminded him of his sister from his past life and wanted a chance at redemption. to do good now after abandoning his family for power.

no matter the reasons, though, you were grateful. you are jinu's sister now. not by blood, of course, but by choice.

no one in the mortal realm knew jinu had a sister; not even his members who spemt their days in hell with him. to be fair they just never cared enough to look for friends when they were literally suffering down there.

jinu didn’t go out of his way to hide it. it just never came up. in the chaos of their idol schedules, gwi-ma, not dying—the fact that he had someone to protect just didn’t get mentioned.

no secrets were bound to stay secrets. the members found out eventually, and it's taking every fiber in his being not to tear his hair from his scalp.

no demons are good enough for his little sister!

romance.

it started with flowers.

true to his name, romance was a romantic. he kept giving you flowers of various kinds. different shades of color now decorated your room. he would hand them to you with that usual smirk, winking like a walking cliché.

you didn’t expect him to say “i like you,” ome day, when he gives you a bouquet of red roses this time.

you really didn’t expect to like him back as much as you did.

and you definitely didn’t expect jinu to catch the two of you kissing behind the rehearsal room.

“WHAT?!”

you both jumped three feet apart. a hand sheepishly covering your mouth as you avoided eye contact with your brother.

“This is an INSULT to MY HONOR!” jinu shouted, clutching his head like the scandal physically wounded him. in fact, he wants to gouge out his eyes and wipe that shit-eating grin off of his bandmate's lips. “you—you kissed her?! WITH THAT FILTHY LIPS OF YOURS?”

“okay, wow,” romance blinked, trying not to laugh, yet still offended. “excuse you, i brush five times a day. that's atleast four times more than abby.”

“she’s my sister, you filthy no-good casanova demon!”

you tugged at your brother's sleeves, feeling a bit embarassed at his outburst now. romance didn't seem to mind, though, but you do. "jinu, please. we were just—”

instead of listening, the man only pulls you in a protective hug, smooshing your face against his hoodie. “no! no just! you want to court my sister? FINE. but you’re going to do it the right way. with letters. with dowries. with a goat sacrifice, like in the old days—”

“where the hell am i getting a goat!?”

"and then-" he emphasizes, glaring at romance. "and then i'd think about letting you hold her hand."

abby.

dating abby felt like dating a very energetic puppy.

he brought you snacks, took you on chaotic dates, and liked to make you laugh until your stomach hurt. on contrary to popular beliefs (cough his members cough) he was actually a very smart guy with great emotional intelligence.

abby absolutely adored you, following you around like a personal guard dog.

then he kissed you, one day, while in the middle of a grocery store run.

jinu was, somehow, also there. the single yogurt he was holding pops in his hand, fruit-glavored goo dripping down to the floor.

the silence was deafening.

"uh," abby blinks. "clean up in aisle three...?"

jinu doesn't seem to find it funny as he starts to sprint from the other end of the aisle towards where you both were.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

abby panicked, flustered judging by the way his cheeks erupted into flames in an instant. “i didn’t mean to—it just—it was spontaneous show of affection!”

“you kissed her in public?! with tongue?!"

“not that much tongue!”

you were garnering attention from other shoppers at this point so you ended up covering your face in embarassment. "guys please, there was no tongue! let's leave!"

“THIS IS AN OUTRAGE.”

when you both got home, jinu was quick to drag abby in another room. maybe they talked? but abby gets throigh the door like a lost little puppy, staring at you with wide, pleading eyes.

jinu only ushers him out before you could speak. "i'll only allow pink holding. i see you putting that dirty lips anywhere near my sister and i'll stitch it close!"

mystery.

it was always subtle with mystery.

a brush of your hand. hanging out more than you usually do with other members. mystery was alot... more normal, so to speak, when it comes to you. he actually–actually, speaks. and smiles.

mystery didn't outright confessed though.

you didn’t even realize you were dating until he justnwhispered “mine” in your ear one day and kissed your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you were flustered.

he wasn’t.

and jinu is on the doorframe, combusting.

“you let mystery–MYSTERY of all people date you?” jinu looks at you in disbelief as he points an accusatory finger at his bandmate. mystery only shrugs in return, not at all offended. “he doesn’t even talk in full sentences! how do you know his intentions?!”

"my intentions are passionate and pure," the said boy replies.

you swooned, clasping your hands together as you smiled. "see? that’s romantic.” jinu wishes he could just strangle that demon boy's neck here and now for brainwashing his little sister.

“THAT IS WHAT ALL SERIAL KILLERS SAY.”

"if it's any consolation, jinu, i’d never harm her. but i would harm for her.”

“see?” you glanced at jinu, smiling wide as if your boyfriend didn't just say the most insane thing ever. "he's romantic!"

“YOU’RE ALL INSANE.”

baby.

baby didn’t mean to fall for you.

he didn’t mean to let it happen. you were a kind soul. the kind of soul he was supposed to destroy, not hold in his arms like it was precious. he didn't think he deserve it, honestly.

and also, he'd rather not date his bandmate's sister. mostly because of how exhaisting it would be to go through all that protective brother thing, but he ended up falling for you anyway, despite his earlier statement.

one night, you fell asleep on his shoulder on the couch.

that's literally it.

then came the moment jinu walked into the living room and saw you curled up next to baby, asleep, his arm wrapped securely around you.

he was absolutely livid.

“you're deadmeat,” jinu muttered while he stalks towards his bandmate with his ryes glarimg through his soul.

“dude—” baby tried to pull away, but arms that were wrapped around hid torso orevented him from doing so. it would've been cute how you wouldn't let go if hr wasn't about to die by the hands of your brother.

“do you even know what it means to be in a relationship?! you can’t just—just snuggle your way into someone’s life!”

“she fell asleep—what was i supposed to do?” baby looked at him in disbelief.

jinu only gripped the back part of the couch as the fabric wrinkled under his sharp nails. "does a pillow not exist?!"

you were woken up abruptly when a pair of arms tugged you back, the air knocking out of your lungs. suddenly, you were not beside baby anymore but in the arms of your older brother who held you in a protective stance. “NO SLEEPING TOGETHER! GET MARRIED FIRST!”

"dude, we were just sleeping. what–"

"negative points for you!"

"WHAT–"

[makeitworse]

GOOD ONES

the good ones always go. and when it’s survival over shame— namgyu’s all you can afford.

contains: darkfic. dub/noncon themes. misogyny. harassment. yandere-ish namgyu. smut mentions. suicidal thoughts + attempt (me in the games tbh). 18+

based on a request from @iziiurnamguygirl

you don’t know what it is about you that’s always drawn their eyes. the bad ones.

the loud-mouthed rapper 230 and his rat-faced lackey 124, that is. thanos and namgyu you’ve come to learn. they’ve had their sights leeched onto you since day one in this godforsaken slaughter island. like they were attracted to the scent trail of your fear.

catcalls followed you like a second shadow. 230’s tongue practically slithered out every time you passed by, and 124 just stood there grinning, whispering shit behind his hand as they watched you on the bunks.

it was because of them that you clung to your group: the “marine” men, plus the loony 456 who had supposedly played these games before. you didn’t believe half of the shit he’d spout— but you did believe in strength in numbers. in protection. so that billy and stu over there couldn’t try anything in lights out, crawling into your bunk as you slept.

and then there was also 388— daeho. the ponytailed one, with the kind eyes and warm smile. he insisted that you went to school together— swore he could never forget a face like yours. he was practically glued to you by the hip, and for a while, you let him. even liked him, in some quiet way.

but oh, did namgyu not appreciate that.

you could feel it in the way his gaze seared into your skin across the dorm. in the way his laugh turned meaner when you passed by. how he’d shove his shoulder into daeho passing in the hallway. his hands twitching at his sides like he’s imagining them around your neck or on your thighs— either’s equally possible.

but then thanos dies. and what follows is a blood-soaked ripple of events.

the lights-out murders. the players revolted. your group dropped like flies. your daeho lost his nerve, reduced to a shaking, curled-up mess. protection was gone, danger was nigh.

so stupidly, maybe instinctively, you found yourself drifting to someone whose better interests are keeping you around. namgyu.

because bad men don’t run when it gets ugly. they stand tall, flourish in the gore with a smile. you didn’t need it gentle or genuine or good. you needed to stay alive. and namgyu, for his own fucked-up reasons, could deliver on that.

namgyu’s all teeth and jealousy. suffocatingly obsessive. from the moment you approach him, you have to ignore his crude quips about you finally coming around, not acting like a stuck-up bitch. you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, launch your fist at his face, kick your knee into his crotch, whatever. you just nod and smile. let his hands creep up your waist, fingers curl around the back of your neck. because your survival depends on it. because the prospect of fucking you is enough for namgyu to value your life in this next game.

“you’re one of the good ones, you know.” he had murmured, nails digging into the shirt fabric at your hip.

“i’ll change your mind about this—” he flicked a finger at the red cross patch on your tracksuit, snickering. “you’re gonna want to stay.”

he’s basically already fucking you with his eyes. you know what’s in store for you, once the lights dim. he even tells you as much.

“if only i knew where you were hiding…” he smirked, voice low as his fingers walked up your thigh. “i could’ve had a little fun with you.”

he practically corners you as he asks if you and daeho got up to anything— demanding to know if he’s getting some other man’s sloppy seconds.

and then he’s enticing you into popping a pill with him in the next breath.

“it’s fuckin’ crazy,” he crooned, holding out a rainbow-coloured tablet between his teeth.

you don’t take it then. but you don’t turn it down, either.

that night, with the next game looming on the horizon and your insides curled into knots, you caved. it’s far from out of want or trust. you let namgyu touch you, let him kiss you, hands wandering beneath the covers as his body curls around yours like a noose. you let him chew off that little piece of control.

because you needed him docile. needed him asleep.

so you swallow down the bile burning your throat when he stretches you open, hand wrapped around the base of your throat as he fucks into you. he only has his way for a few minutes— it doesn’t take long before he’s collapsing on top of you, panting at your ear.

and then once his breathing slows, lips slackening against your shoulder with a firm arm draped over your stomach, you moved.

carefully, silently, you reached for his necklace. unlatched the tiny silver cross, slipping out the pills tucked inside. four. enough, you thought. he takes two to feel good. four might let you sleep forever.

you held them in your palm, stared for a long time. you listen to his shallow breath beside you.

and you decide that yes— death is better than bedding this maniac just to live another day.

so no more thinking.

you briefly hear the sound of him rousing next to you, but you don’t care— not wasting another second in cupping your palm over your mouth, letting the pills fall onto your tongue.

and then there’s a hand flying out, roughly prying your jaw open.

“yah!” namgyu hisses, fingers intruding into your mouth as he fishes for the pills. one crumbles beneath your molar, bitter. another slides down your throat. he manages to claw the rest out— wet and glistening in his hand, soaked in saliva and shame.

he was on top of you then, straddling your hips. chest heaving with hard breaths. eyes blown wide and furious.

“don’t be fucking stupid,” he growled, snatching a fistful of your hair and jerking your head back. “you wanna break up that bad already?!”

you just gawked at him, heart drumming against your chest as the pills dissolve into your bloodstream.

“is that all this was?” he spits, face hovering over yours. “let me fuck you so i fall asleep easier? so you could off yourself right next to me like some kind of twisted fucking goodbye??”

you don’t answer. can’t.

he shook you by the shoulders. “i picked you, god-fucking-dammit. chose you over every other dog in this place.”

his mouth comes to just below your ear, and you shiver when his lips ghost over the skin.

but then he’s biting down, hard; hand flying out to clamp over your mouth as you thrash beneath him.

“you don’t get to leave me.” he hisses, thumb pressing into the teeth mark blooming onto your neck. a reminder.

“don’t fucking forget it.”

mlist · taglist 〃

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[timmydraker]

On Tim’s nineteenth birthday he had a party with his friends and had chosen to celebrate it at a karaoke bar.

Kon, Cassie and Bart are there in civilian clothes and identities and so are Tim’s old school friends as well as come of his college’s kids, as well as Tam.

Everyone is having fun and while they have alcohol I drinks available, everyone is being mindful to not send it to hard due to Tim only just agreeing to drink before he’s legal.

Naturally, a few of them get competitive and Ives ends up becoming a judge for who wins in certain face offs.

It’s all fun and games until Kon points out that Tim had been spending most of the time taking photos of other people, though admittedly a fair amount are selfies, and insist on everyone watching Tim perform and filming it.

Tim, who’s used to having lots of eyes on him quickly goes from bashful to scheming and everyone gets the performance of their lives.

Tim wakes up with a mild hangover, (hes a good boy who made sure to drink water and eat a lot), and around a dozen missed calls from various family members. He feels out at first before he sees his latest text is from Stephanie saying ‘Handsome and rich and you can sing? Urg why did we break up again?’ She hadn’t been able to make it due to a break out but promised to make it up to him and she always did.

Attached is a link to a TikTok from an account he knows for a fact is one of his friends.

It’s him, standing on the stage with his big pink feather shall, black dress shirt open with glitter visible on his collar bones and a large jacket that defiantly isn’t his likely hanging over his arms. In the video Tim is swaying around happily, cheekily even, while singing ‘I Am A Good Girl’ by Christina Aguilera from Chicago and sauntering around as if he himself is playing her role.

Tim’s face isn’t all that flushed and part of him wishes that wasn’t the case if only because it shows he was sober enough to be fully aware of what he was doing, which is unfortunately true.

Tim is confident in his public appearance and knows how to handle any backlash, it’s the text from his family that are going to make him crawl into a hole and die.

Dick: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, why are you at a club?

Dick: there better not have been alcohol

Dick: also, unimportant and totally not the most important thing, WHY DIDNT YOU INVITE ME 😭

Damian: You look like a fool, Drake. Alfred has been muttering about Father being a bad influence and is threatening my to kick him out.

Damian: I cannot be sure, but I belive I heard Alfred say ‘your playboy ways better not be swaying that boy to be a nuance like you, young man’.

Damian: Fix this.

Stephanie: ‘why you in the club with people wildin’

Stephanie: get it

Stephanie: like the Meghan the Stallion song?

Jason: why the fuck are you at a club

Jason: don’t think I didn’t see that vodka raspberry in your hand

Jason: answer me you little shit

Jason: I swear to go if you were in crime ally I will loose it

Duke: dude Bruce has such a big worry frown I think I heard a muscle snap

Duke: you’re a really good singer though

Duke: good song choice for a rich brat lol

Duke: that was meaner than I meant for it be sorry!

Duke: still true tho

Cass: drink lots of water and I’ll bring you bat burger in the afternoon xx

Bruce: I’m not angry, you haven’t done anything wrong, but did you have to sing a song about being a rich girl when people complain about us being out of touch enough as it is?

Bruce: I’m not mad though.

Bruce: have you drunk water?

Bruce: also did I see Conner Kent there?

Bruce; why was he there.

Bruce: does he understand the dangers of drinking as a Kryptonian?

Bruce: again, I’m not mad at you, just concerned.

Bruce: I’m mean in a little mad but not because Alfred is yelling at me.

Bruce: you know the Brucie Wayne persona was a farce, I have no doubt about that, but that doesn’t mean you need one.

Bruce: not that you can’t have a good time!

Bruce: please answer Dick is yelling at me now too

Damian: Grayson is now yelling at Father.

Damian: He has called him a whore but I believe that had nothing to do with your provocative dancing. I think he just wants to call father a whore.

Jason: I found the bar.

Bart: heyheyheyheyheyhey! Barry said to warn you that Bruce is making everyone do a course on teaching your kids to be alcohol safe and that even the ones who aren’t parents have to do it too lollolololololol

Jason: I was going to get do something but the woman owning it kept talking about how nice you all were so I feel bad

Dick: I mean you didn’t have to invite me I know it’d be weird to have a 27 year old there but that’s not that old!

Alfred: I shall be around shortly with adequate food. Be ready.

Tim was in for it that was for sure, especially when he saw ‘Tim Drake’ and ‘Thristtrap’ trending.

[wrotebymii]

MAYBE ITS ME? … | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: After leaving your house because you can’t handle being hated in your very own home, Sam talks with you while your house becomes quiet…

Warning: minimal angst, honestly it’s a little fluffy with you and Sam. The objects are miserable now. There will be a part three and four!!

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | READ ME

Sam has been the most understanding friend what felt like your only friend she tries her hardest to bring you out of your slump and rationalize while simultaneously making fun of you as to why your relationships within your home have a burning hate for you.

She’s pointing fun yet logical, allowing you to rant about what you did and where you possibly went wrong with each. She sat across from you, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees in full concentration. You were sat back practically melting into the furniture that didn’t despise you, moving a hand around to exaggerate your speech with the other stuffing your face with food like you haven’t eaten in weeks. Lowkey, you haven’t.

“When I talked to Hoove, being nice and supportive while telling him not to work too hard—I thought I was being sweet ya’know—“ You stuff your face and swallow.

“—but apparently NOT?? He got angry with me, when I tried backtracking and apologize which crazy by the way he said he HATED ME?!” You shout, you can feel your face heat in anger at the thought before tears well up.

“Or how I tried to speak with Daisuke—“

“Who’s that one?”

“Oh my tableware, he’s like tall about yay-high with black hair a portion of it in a bun with like dishware themed robes…I heard from others in rhe kitchen that he’s into taking things seriously” You explain with a wave of the hand.

“I actually…heh I thought that we’d get along, he likes taking care of the dishes and even tries to fix them if they crack due to me but that’s not the point I too like fixing things, I want to fix things…but I guess unlike him or fake it till you make it like Tony…I just make it worse…”

“I…I just wanted to be friends or the I don’t know? Date? The whole reason of the damn glasses.” You mutter, you push the snacks away and use a napkin to clean yourself.

Dating them, any of them wasn’t the main goal. Sure it’s interesting but realizing the things around your home have their own lives in the house was so cool!

Being a hermit, a homebody it felt like a this was a way to help you as well, to get better with being social and maybe let you learn that the outside wasn’t so scary and not everything was out to get you.

But, you messed it up—perhaps you tried too hard, pushed too much, didn’t push enough, didn’t flirt when needed to, too flirty for some, or didn’t have enough specs for the correct dialogue and it came out lame. Now, you’re both miserable in the house and out of it.

Sam was trying, really was. As you spoke she’d occasionally glance around her apartment as if the ranting was making her paranoid about her house. Sighing she runs her hand down her face. She should’ve said something about the weird black stuff in that bathroom, maybe it was the fumes getting to you, but she shook her head.

“What else happened?…”

“The breaking point?”

“Yeah, what made you take off the glasses?”She asks, you groan, slumping back and wiping away a few stray tears as you remembered.

“I was going to the Breaker Box Club, ‘cause Eddie and Volt were still nice-ish from our previous conversations—I hadn’t talked to them in a bit by then cause I was trying to salvage whatever was going on between Harper the hamper and Dirk dirty clothes. I wanted to catch up and help Eddie with some of his work like last time.” You shift in your seat uncomfortably.

“When I entered it was packed, I was happy for them that their business was getting bigger but I knew it was gonna be a lot to take on so I went to find one of them to offer help…”

“…you try and help a lot…”

“I do, it’s…the only thing I can give to them—“ you stop yourself, continuing the story of the night prior.

“But, I knew I wasn’t welcomed. Everyone avoided me, whispering around like I was back in school. Again, Volt saw me. I remember waving at him as he walked over way too quickly. We talked as he pushed me along the way I came from, when I noticed I was confused and…worried I lost another person again…” You take in a deep breath.

“I did…the gossip around the club didn’t go unnoticed by the owners he wanted to get rid of me so it didn’t disturb the customers. I tried talking to him saying that I wasn’t a bad…person…” You don’t sound convinced yourself by that statement.

“He wasn’t having it, his…skin almost turned this light blue? His hand gripped my arm to drag my away from the prying eyes, it hurt…not to make him anymore mad I let him, throw me out…” Voice trailing off, Sam looks stunned, like this was the most juiciest soap opera ever.

“You got kicked out of your own break box—“

“YES, I GOT KICK OUT” you yelled but not at Sam, yelling at the absurd thought of being thrown out of your own break box.

“Crazy…” She elongates the ‘zy’ in the word, unsure how to handle the rest of this.

“Do you think there’s a way to start over with them? All of them I mean?”

The sun was setting, making the silence seem light and comforting. You’re tired, and don’t know where to tread next, so many ideas run in your mind that you—wait…

There might be a very dubious way to get your life back to normal. The thought felt terrible, too personal and guilty, but you don’t seem to have any other option. At least not right now. So, you’ll pin the idea with Keith in the back of your mind. And let it fester or wilt as you and Sam brainstorm together.

Back at the house.

The ones that cheered for your leave are quiet, basking in the dullness of the house. Sure they can talk to one another but…that’s uneventful. The house is missing apart of itself the part of you. The human part. The fragile, unpredictable, unproductive, and lonely ways of you has gone missed.

But everyone refuses to say it out loud. They’re all still bitter and angry with how you treated them—wait…why exactly are they all mad? Some can’t remember but feel justified, although, looking back they just remember you trying. No.

No. You hurt them. They think…

…

…

Okay—well they aren’t sure…not anymore.

The lights are off because there’s no need to see, the sinks and baths don’t run because there’s no one to draw it for, the wall creaks and settles sadly, coffee pot remains unused along with the beauty products, television, books, sofa, stove—all of it. All of them are…completely bored?

Maybe, making your life inconvenienced and almost down right harassed in your day to day life after you stopped interacting with them wasn’t the right way to express their anger. A day turned to four then a week then two weeks.

Dorian can feel the worry in every room about when you’ll return, he huffs. Bedroom Dorian stands still, looking up at the ceiling then down to the floor, watching Florence quickly scramble around her time book with all the new complaints and meetings for Celia.

He reluctantly…steps forward. Away from his position to stand right in front of the poor woman. He rather be doing his job, the thing he thinks so highly of. However, he too is miserable more miserable than laundry room closet Dorian because what is his purpose now that the one who he open and closes for…is gone?

But he’s convinced himself that speaking with Celia will help.

Or so he hopes.

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[lomlsatoru]

BEAUTIFUL SOUL — JINU 𖤐.ᐟ

˚⟡˖ ࣪ SOUL INTERTWINED SERIES | part 2 of familiar!

summary: jinu doesn’t know what to do when you look at him like he’s worthy of something.

content: little bit more angsty, ~980 words

a/n: thank you so much for all the love in the first part 🫶 i do plan on making this a series so stay tuned!

masterlist | navi

★☆★

You didn’t know how the meet and greet went from 3 people to 8, with two tables connected. But you had to give credit where credit is due because this is amazing publicity.

Huntrix AND Saja Boys Fan Event.

What a headline.

It surprised you that it is going pretty smoothly— ignoring the fact that some of them were fighting and shoving each other, they were quite mature about the whole ordeal.

You assumed that Rumi planned this with Jinu the night you bumped into them. The bunch was doing an amazing job, signing merch, posters, answering questions, being… friends.

If you would even call it that.

At the table, Jinu was craning his neck up, his head moving from side to side to look for one particular person.

“She’s over there.” Rumi teasingly said to Jinu, nudging her head to gesture to where you and Bobby were standing discussing.

His movements weren’t really unnoticeable.

Jinu coughed, turning his head downwards. He didn’t think he was that obvious. “What do you mean?”

Rumi smirked. “You’re too obvious, dude.”

“No, I’m not!” he exclaimed, sending the fan a weird smile when he noticed his little outburst.

“Are we whispering?” the fan asked.

Jinu and Rumi quickly signed the poster, handing it to the fan with an awkward smile.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” she pointed to the t-shirt, a doodle of the two with wings on Jinu and Rumi riding on him, the text reads Rujinu. Making the pair laugh dryly, not really sure how to react. “Oh, so cute.” the fan said, walking away.

Jinu kept his eyes on the fan, making sure that you didn’t see her— the t-shirt specifically. He didn’t want you to get any false ideas.

The man sighs when he notices the fan leaving the building without bumping into you. Rumi noticed his behaviour and chuckled. “Idiot.”

“Who are you calling idiot?” Jinu scoffs as they continue to bicker.

From afar, you were staring at the pair with a heavy chest. You didn’t know why. They matched each other so well and you don’t know why that forms a pit in your stomach.

Jinu could feel a pair of eyes on him, and when he turned his head, his eyes met yours.

His heart stutters. Yours did too.

You swallowed thickly before giving him a small wave and timid smile. He practically beams with happiness.

You noticed him!

He raises his hand, fingers moving in a greeting motion. A small voice took his attention away, the kid giving him a small paper with a drawing. His eyes softens as he takes the gift in.

Suddenly Rumi stood up, “Isn’t he great? Woo! Jinu, everybody! Yeah, Jinu!” everyone clapped, as bouquets were thrown to the table for the Saja Boys.

Jinu abruptly stood up, “Unfortunately, the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you everyone.” the other members followed as well, walking to the back exit.

You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden change, feet moving you could even think as you tried to catch up to Jinu before he left.

“Jinu!” you yell.

Goosebumps appeared all over his body as he turned around, “Hi.” he stopped in front of you, wide eyes staring as his whole body goes warm.

You chuckled, “Hi, Jinu.”

He will never get used to how you say his name.

“You did well, out there.” your head nudges to the meet and greet area, “They love you.” you smirk, exaggerating the words.

He mirrors your smile, “Yeah, well, I’m good at what I do.”

You scoff, “Hold your horses, cowboy.” before your voice softens, “The kid loves you.” you gestured to the paper

Jinu hides the card behind his back, cheeks pink and warm from embarrassment and the fact that you are in his vicinity. “She just likes my voice and dances.” his eyes casted downwards, at the paper.

YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL SOUL.

You furrow your eyebrows, “I don’t know you,” you shrug. Jinu’s heart fell, “but I know you’re a good person. I can see it. Even just now, Rumi doesn’t just let anyone around her.”

Jinu catches your eyes and melts immediately, staring at you is like staring at art in a museum. Valuable, one of a kind but out of touch.

He doesn’t deserve any of this.

He coughs out his nerves, “You don’t know me.” He didn't mean for it to come off as rude, but the crushing reality will never soothe away. Not while you’re standing right in front of him. Eyes shining, looking at him like he’s someone worth your attention, voice sweet, and kind smiles.

You don’t even remember him.

You don’t take offence at his sharp tone, “Yeah, but,” you shrugged, “weirdly it feels like I do and I believe that you are good.”

You might as well rip his soul out.

Feels like I do.

What is he supposed to do with that?

When you looked up to meet his eyes again, you couldn’t explain the gnawing feeling in your stomach. at the sight of his face. He looks so broken. So hurt.

You never want to see him like that.

“Thanks.” he mumbled out, crumpling the poor paper from how hard he is balling his fists. His heart thumped in his chest.

You both stared at each other for a moment, the air tense but familiar.

Familiar?

“Well, I better get going.” Jinu mumbled, pointing his thumb to his back, “The others are probably waiting.”

You took a step back, “Yeah! Yeah, of course. Sorry, didn’t mean to hog you.” you chuckled.

He shrugs, “I don’t mind. I like talking to you.” softly smiling before walking away, leaving you dumbfounded and blushing.

As he turns, Jinu’s smile drops, his shoulders sagging as the weight of your presence trickles away. Everytime he’s around you, his stomach twists into weird ways, nerves, excitement, grief. 

And he isn’t really sure what to do with it.

reblog for a kiss 🥰🥰🥰 lmk what yall think i really hope u enjoy 🫶

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[ov105]

Tian

So, I just graduated. The reason for my absence was my undergrad thesis that kept me from really pursuing most hobbies. Though now I'm on my sort-of break before enrolling into another form of schooling. It feels good to be back!

5,191 words of Zhou Xinyu. Enjoy!

It was the end of summer, and the rain had begun to fall. Driving from city to city, town to town, watching each sign telling me hello and goodbye in the span of almost a blink. Perhaps the snacks we’ve eaten should’ve done the trick, but I can’t help but think that I should’ve gotten another helping of coffee. It didn’t help that I was driving a car almost just as old as we were, though maybe I should be glad it had a digital player, and not a dial one, to at least keep us company while I drove back. 

Headlights on the road, I gave a glance at the dashboard, 00:15. We need to sleep now, I thought, yet that idea clashed with the idea that no, we need to make it by sunrise. Ignoring whether or not my passenger was only asleep, she must feel so lucky. I just sighed and tried to hum the song in my head, only to realize it was a slower ballad, and now it sounded like a lullaby. 

I tried to remember what I had seen in the guidebook, remembering there was supposed to be a traveler's inn a few kilometers ahead. How much, hell if I knew.

I just sighed, maybe I could quietly pull over and sleep, though I didn’t want us to be a horror film victim, too. I was already lectured about not catching “get-there-itis” behind the wheel. I just muttered, thinking about how far I needed to drive, and went, “fuck.” 

“Don’t you want to rest a bit?” Xinyu quipped.

“Hm?!” I replied.

“Pull over and take a nap,” she ordered, repeating herself much clearer now.

“In a bit, there’s an inn up ahead.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe for us?” she asked. 

I didn’t answer, but I understood her reservations because I shared them. I am sure I saw it a few times in the yellow guidebook, as for the budget inn part, we didn’t have any more money left from our stipend. 

“Yes, it should be.” 

It better be. She sighed as she opened the dash compartment and tried to read the map in the dark. Having stuck it out in a small field down south, a few northerner university students, tending to a small control field with a mentor, sounded stupid on paper. Yet, a government stipend was all that was needed to push this little journey to the south. Now, at the end of those 90, now 92, days, it was only me and Xinyu left to drive the rental back. 

A relieved sigh and restrained elation overcame us when a weak neon sign appeared ahead. It clearly said “roadside inn.” 

Everything else was procedural after that, I reversed the car in. Before Xinyu and I made our way in, we both agreed it looked pretty rundown, but then again the choice was: a creaky, dusty bed, or ending up in a ditch. Settling down wasn’t an issue at all, save for the madamé at the front desk staring at us for a second or two, backpacks and duffle bags in hand, before telling us water only comes by 7, and handing us a key whose tag we could barely read. 

Opening the door, I just looked at Xinyu, a bit dejected. It was exactly what we paid for; a cheap, little room a few meters in size, slightly peeled walls, tall but with a weak fluorescent light, a stove and old cabinet, a bathroom with only a sink, a fan, and a hard bed only big enough for both of us. 

“Well, we can’t complain now,” she shrugged.

“Just think about going to sleep,” I replied, dropping my things inside the cabinet. Xinyu followed. It was procedural, a haze, and took us only a few minutes to change, letting her wash up before we decided on our side of the bed. I decided to shower, but it took me a while to get the water going. 

I did, however, feel a silent tension, a slight rocking of the boat, and uneasy eyes that quickly tried to rationalize and compose themselves. Maybe it was just the light novels or rumors getting to me, chuckling on the sink before I just washed my face and all that before I carefully got onto the bed. Xinyu had already turned off the lights, and I had stoked the small stove in the corner to keep us warm, using it as some crude nightlight. Hopefully, at least. A fair glow came from the fire that colored the room orange. It was better than pitch darkness in our last change of clothes. 

“You’re not gonna tell them about this right?” I asked as I tried to read the map. She was blocking most of the light as we both sat up against the outer wall. It was just a bit colder than the fan. 

“Huh, why would I?” Xinyu wondered, or maybe it was just me.

“Never mind, I mean, we’re classmates, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I deflected, trying to get myself out of the situation. Focus on the mag.

“Well, don’t make it awkward!” Xinyu snapped back, almost laughing at me. 

“I’m not, it’s just you know, not a setup that usually happens. Not in our group at least.”

She slammed the hardcover and looked at me, puzzled. Fuck. “What?!”

“What?” I asked, folding my magazine, she had put her book down on the floor by now.

“I mean, let’s not lie,” Xinyu started, her eyes looking around for a bit, “You heard some of our classmates right?” before letting out a small giggle.

She leaned closer, and knowing I was one of the late sleepers, I knew what she meant. 

“Yeah, they were doing it in the outhouse,” I flatly replied. I mean, I already had an inkling of the couple she was talking about. Though knowing the girl was one of Xinyu’s friends, she may have told her more intimate details. I could tell my passenger was one part curious and excited.

“I…I don’t know,” she began to stutter, then asked, “Isn’t it kind of thrilling?”

“I don’t know about him, they seemed shy the next morning. We all knew. I’m just glad our professor never noticed,” I replied, trying my best to hide my feelings. It sounded exciting because it sounded straight out of a rumor. 

“Have you ever asked him about it?” Xinyu pressed on. I could notice she was inching closer.

“Yeah,” I broke and cackled a smile, “It was simple, sure, but you’re right to say it was thrilling.”

“Well? Tell me,” Xinyu prodded, noticeably growing more playful. I could just about scratch my head and not mix up the details of it. So I began, at least from what I remembered.

Xinyu and I weren’t that close, blockmates sure, but not at that deep end of what I consider friendship. Of course, no adversaries either, maybe a few group projects here and there, where her goofiness can shine through. I always thought that the campus, as privileged as we were to go inside every time, was not exactly a place to find love from your classmates. Yet here we were talking about somebody else's sex lives.

Xinyu could only be so shocked once I ended my retelling of it. Her mouth was just slightly open, though she had let out a few giggles and gasps, but she did let me finish talking. She was much closer now—and beside me.

“They did a lot more than I thought,” she remarked.

“Yeah, talk about doing more than..,”  I replied, thinking quickly, “you know, a porno,” I was just guessing her friend's bluff. Given that the boys and girls had separate quarters, it seemed bound to happen. Giggling about it a bit, I could just about hear Xinyu turn to me, while her gaze scrambled across the room, and then she began leaning closer. I was backing by the bit, sensing her apprehension, I shut my eyes the same and leaned, closing the distance, and our lips met.

It was a simple kiss, yes, not more than a few seconds, nothing too dramatic or malicious—yet her gaze stayed fixed—Xinyu wanted more. 

Talking was awkward. I leaned towards her for another kiss, half-expecting her to stop me. Instead, she put her left hand on my neck, sliding and slightly pulling me towards her again. It was more intimate, longer this time, a smack rang out once, twice, before Xinyu slowly pushed me away. 

“Wait, you’re okay, right?” she asked.

“Okay, with what?” I asked Xinyu, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?” and well, yes. I was okay with it.

“This,” she replied, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?” 

I think, I just think, that Xinyu knew it would spread like a grass fire if I told this out. She probably knew I was thinking the same. We both had scrambled minds. Certainly uncertain. 

I just nodded, “I won’t.”

She pressed herself forward, another smooch quickly followed by another, before I could feel her shifting to get herself right on my lap. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, perhaps it was her pheromones talking to me. To be fair, she always smelled good, and I thought I smelled like a bath, so it couldn’t be me. A kiss was all it took for more to follow, and so it did. It was not too fast, smooching, yes, but I can’t tell if we were both good kissers or just lucky to be average. Hands on her waist, there was no rushing, frizzled touches, hasty undressing, yet perhaps it was more so our sense of prudence taking over for that last one, being our last change of clothes. Yet I just knew with how Xinyu had her hands around me, on my shoulder and my neck, that she didn’t want a change of pace just yet. I knew that this torrid kissing, warming herself up, just had to lead somewhere, and with her right on top of me, she was beginning to grind ever so slowly. 

Sliding my hand to her legs, I slowly slid them inward, and bit by bit, forward. Xinyu stopped, she was staring at me. I asked her.

“You want to go through with this?”

She just nodded, “Isn’t it a little late to ask that?” and giggled, another peck, “Keep going.”

Following her, we kept at it. Xinyu’s grind started to move a little faster, urging me on with how hot her breathing was becoming. Taking my left hand around her waist, sliding it toward her ass, fingers slowly dug in on her flesh. Slowly tilting her head and kissing me deeper, she was tight, and I responded in kind and gave her my tongue. Yet a faux tongue was ready between her legs, fingers cupping her pussy, warmth, teasing her. Hearing her hitch at the sudden contact, but not stop as I continued, slowly using two fingers to feel her, up and down, up and down.

The entire time, she never moved her hands downward, perhaps she liked making out more than doing the same to me. Xinyu’s kisses, from simple, playful pecks, to making out, a messy affair where both of our tongues fight to keep in control of ourselves. Short of undressing ourselves, I decided to push my chances further, and sliding my hands in to grope her ass. Just a little more, a little warmer, a little wetter, I thought, before I would do the same to the front. It took a while, but her voice shook a bit when she asked.

“Why won’t you just finger me?” 

I didn’t respond, perhaps thinking of some one-liner that just wouldn’t come out. I had a slender woman sitting on my lap, waiting for me to do something beyond second base. 

“How about this then?” Xinyu followed. Her left hand moved downward while she pressed her lips to mine. Mirroring my hand, her fingers wrapped around my crotch, quickly getting the shape of my shaft through my pajamas. Breaking off a little, I could just a little “oh,” leave her.

That was the permission I needed. Our lips came together again, I took my hand out from behind her and switched, yet somehow fumbled to find the hem of her panties. Slowly beckoning me on with the way her fingers slid and stroked my cock even under the layers, trying to make it a solid shape for herself. Trying to find a moment where she stopped moving, I slid my hand in, but not under her panties where it would be hard to do anything. I had more in mind.

Xinyu was warm. A wet spot had formed over her panties from the circles I was drawing on her. A layer past that, there was a moistness that had formed over her panties, just a little more, I thought. Pressing my fingers down, I traced her folds where they would be, her responding as I struck her clit more times than she’d like, slightly moving backward. Hearing her let out a quiet moan as I kept rubbing further through the fabric. 

Sensing some boldness in the air, Xinyu tried to put her left hand in my boxer, though I grabbed her by the wrist with my right hand. I was fine, she was a bit shocked, did I suddenly get cold feet? I don’t know what came over me, but I was more than fine getting hard from hearing her alone. Not yet, Xinyu, not yet.

“I-I’m okay,” I blurted out, trying to string something while I had my hands between her legs, using my fingers to send my message. It was her moment, not mine, “Just let me.” 

Xinyu just smiled, withdrawing her hand, but not before grabbing my cock through the cloth this time, sighing before saying, “You know, I started wondering about this when..,” squeezing my shaft and turning into a whisper, “I saw you doing it one night.”

I was in shock, turning red, and Xinyu knew it, but by now she knew how to shut me up. If that was the case, we continued making out, slowly I tried to move her panties to the side just to gain an entry, but almost always missed. She was a little more frisky now, I was at a position of disadvantage, yet I could pin her down, but she had me pinned down with her lips. She was moaning as we made out, tongues together, while the other pair of lips was just waiting for my fingers to push through. She then stopped for a second to plunge her hand right between her legs too, sliding her panties to the side for me, telling me as she pulled her lips away, “Put it in.”

Xinyu was wet enough, and I wasn’t just going with one, so two fingers went in. My fingers weren’t as long as hers, but her sudden moan and pull meant I must’ve hit something good. Not stopping, I prodded further to my amusement, and she shuddered a bit. I awkwardly tried to get a grip as her fingers scrambled while beginning to move inside. Though trying to finger her with her panties was quite limiting. I tried what I could, and well, it just seemed to work. Not long after, our lips were back together while she began to move to my fingers, timing playing my fingers jammed between her lips as the others also slammed with hers.

Xinyu was whispering when she pulled her lips away, but not to me, to herself. I was unable to make it out, but I couldn’t even think as her breath would hitch and latch onto my lips again. 

By now, we had melted out of our tenseness. Yet when Xinyu kissed me first, it was different from the same woman whose tongue I was against now. She quickly did away with formalities, and now, my fingers are wet. 

“Go deeper.” 

Eh? It wasn’t even that long after I started, nor was there much for me to give with my fingers. Yet she wanted deeper? Fine. Perhaps she was trusting me too much.

I stuck them as deep as I could, hooking my fingers inside forward as my pinky began to strain. Keeping our lips together, I could hear Xinyu hitch her breath and pull me closer, hearing a squeal as she seemed to melt right onto my fingers. She was holding on much closer now, with her lips picking up the pace as she kept moving her hips. Listening to her and waiting for the occasional command. Through the muted moaning, shuddering, squealing, and squelching, we both knew we could hear, I was leading her.

I pulled my fingers out for a second. They were wet. I jammed them back in and her breath hitched, catching onto my lips again as I continued rolling my fingers in a hook, feeling the warmth of her slowly flowing down, then dripping between my fingers. I tried to think of anything to say but just nothing, only the warmth of Xinyu’s guts right at my fingertips filled me. Her moans kept my warmth going, yet I wanted her, but I needed to wait.

“You okay?” I asked as I felt Xinyu shaking ever so often. I couldn’t lie to myself. I was mirroring her too. With bated breaths and shaking fingertips, we both knew what would come next and at the same time, didn’t. I don’t know what she wanted to do next, but the pace we were in wasn’t so bad, moving a little fast, but otherwise just evidence of our youth. Impatient yes, with her tongue pushing at my lips, my hands occupied with her neck and her pussy, fingering away until she just broke. 

“I want to ride you already.”

I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn’t know if I nodded or not, but I did meet Xinyu with a peck on the lips, and like ink on a signature, it was automatic.

She got off, fingers on both my underwear and pajamas as she pulled it off. My cock sprang out followed a weak giggle from Xinyu as she pulled my clothes off my foot, throwing them over her pile. I wasn’t paying enough attention, absent-minded from the ruffling of the sheets, and never noticed hers join them too. 

Hands on my shoulders, Xinyu—more like Chang’e—hovered over me, fully naked.

I swallowed, I could hear her huff and ask, “Been a while?” 

“A while.” I nodded slightly.

It was both running in our heads. We were printing the same telex message among ourselves in our twenty-three year old heads. Reading along the lines of relax, relax, relax—you’re young, it’s just casual—was it? 

Placing her hands on my shoulder, Xinyu met me with a kiss, only noticing her warmth around my shaft as she began to stroke it. Pushing her tongue onto my lips as her long fingers tugged at my twitching cock, was she going to push herself down this soon? I had my answer as she gestured at me to open my legs, I complied with what she wanted. Holding out breaths as she stared me down, giving me a peck on my lips as if to distract me from her descent. It was hot. Both of us flinched as I penetrated her, a drawn-out exhale coming from her that slowly pitched up into a moan when it got past the tip. Our heads filled with warm, unadulterated sexual embrace as our hands searched for something to hold on to.

I had to control myself. It’s been far too long, and this wasn’t me doing it solo anymore. This was Xinyu on top of me. I don’t know for sure, but with how her face was contorted in a manner no pocketbook smut or porno magazine could capture. A slight tremor in her grip, on my thigh and then on my shoulder, and for the first time, she opened her eyes to look at me. She didn’t need to talk.

Having set herself down, she slowly began to move. Closing her eyes again and letting her carnal instinct take over for her as her hips began to roll. Up and down, up and down, she went. I was twitching because she was just that tight. Now, what the hell was I supposed to do to not finish early? Recite the hóng bǎoshū? Perhaps. I began to lay kisses on her collarbone, slowly tracing down to the top of her tits, she moaned and clutched at my nape, feeling her gaze down at me as she finally broke the silence.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Perhaps it was the other way around—she felt better. It was a boyhood dream come true. Zhou Xinyu, for all her height, had her legs open and sitting on my cock, her pinkish folds enveloping it with her top half in my embrace for my lips to kiss. I could feel the goddess that she was beginning to turn hot as moans began in crescendo, although to my dismay, sitting straight meant her red lips were quite far yet I could sense she looked on approvingly.

Taking my lips off her chest for a second, I met her gaze. Xinyu was drunk with how good it felt, her hands having not changed places since she had sat down, clearly enjoying herself for only I to witness. Stopping just for a bit to kiss me deeply before she continued riding. In just a while, she had a constant, labored breath between moans, both of us sometimes sharing a smile, then a kiss, amidst the pleasure as we tried to keep ourselves quiet. Though keeping hush was difficult when it struck her spot just right, her eyebrows furrowed as an instinctive moan left her. She stopped for a bit.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten this close this quick before,” Xinyu sighed, then chuckled as she blurted, “Your size does help.” 

I just rolled my eyes. Here comes the ego fuel, I thought. Though she caught on quickly to my disbelief, “A lot more than I expected.” 

She must’ve thought feigning underestimation might do the trick. I would’ve said the same thing about her, yet found my stream of consciousness slipping as she proved me right anyway. I needed a second to appreciate the sight; her pretty face contorted in pleasure, small tits, flat tummy, hips moving, rolling. Pacing herself almost at a shallow hop, riding halfway up, followed by the faint sound of a squelching beginning every time she put her weight down.

Though, by this point, my legs were just about to betray me, having folded slightly upward for a while to cradle a tall woman slamming down on them was taking its toll. I wasn’t going to interrupt Xinyu now, not so close, but I was inviting a broken arrow and a cramped leg if I didn’t. So I moved us to the edge of the bed, with my feet flat on the floor—and a sigh of relief from me—with our top halves pretty much in the same manner. Though now there was the bonus of being able to lean forward so I can finally suck on her nipples, it did take some adjusting, and even more when I noticed I was already straining.

Xinyu groaned with how deep I was. Essentially cradled in my grip, hand on her hip and arm up her back as she inched herself closer to an orgasm. It was just a slight lean but it took every ounce of effort for me to not cum then and there. The whole image of us fucking and the feel of her on me. When she would stop to catch her breath and kiss, she was messy but beautiful, even more so now. I was minding her wetness as it trickled down my balls. Suddenly, her grip tightened as she switched her pace up, biting her lip as she squealed, looking up to see her head thrown back while she shook some. Grabbing her ass while her legs squeezed at my sides, with her squeal rolling into a moan, then tired huffs. I thought she’d take longer. Did she just cum? 

“You came?” I asked. Xinyu nodded

“You’re not tired yet?” 

She couldn’t lie with her huffing and nodded. 

We switched. For the first time since we started, I could see the slight sheen of sweat all over Xinyu in the few seconds she stood and threw herself to the bed. I suppose this was a better method of keeping ourselves warm. Now it was my turn to stand up and kneel on the bed, greeted with a sight as she lay down with her legs open for me. I was a curious kid, touching her with my fingers again like earlier. She was warm, very warm, one finger in, hypnotized until I thought, “I should put my cock in.”

Placing my hands on her hips, I slightly lifted her. It caught her somewhat off guard, eyes locked as her expression shifted, mouth hung open, annoyed, then pleasured. I slid back, her eyes looking upward, then rolling them back as I arched her back. She shut her eyes and craned her neck as I thrust a second time, deeper, trying and failing to catch her moaning. Repeatedly, I gave it to her that way, appreciating how easy it was for me to slide so deep in such a tight hole. Her hands moved quite a bit, though she settled on tradition, hands low on my waist while I kept a grip on her. Though for a few times, she had an arm holding onto the covers behind her, or looking at how I was fucking her, moaning at almost every thrust. Xinyu was a singer, yes, a trained one at that, and she sang the loudest when my entire length was in. I tried to keep a neutral expression, thinking “Don’t finish early”—it was all about Xinyu—and she wasn’t even asking me to go any faster. 

She did, however, always requested “harder” right before letting out a hushed long moan and rattling under me. Meanwhile, I was mentally reciting Party passages to distract myself a bit from hearing her slosh and contract under me, her medium-length hair already a mess from moving around quite a bit. I was getting close right then, yet talk about living out fantasies. 

Yet, by that point, I could feel my knees beginning to get sore from kneeling for, how long has it been, two, three minutes? It felt like forever. Xinyu then pressed her hand on my stomach. All stop, aye, ma’am.

“Have you cum already?” she asked. I shook my head, tired, to which she ordered, “Sit down.”

I thanked my lucky stars that I felt like masturbating before I showered, so, how’s that for a foresight? I thought, but I smirked, and so did she as we switched, though now I leaned a bit so her face was closer, and kissed me just before sliding me back inside. That was more like it.

Now, everything about Xinyu was long, her arms embraced me as she began to ride. Though in honesty, it felt more like a pummeling. She knew I was close, so she kissed harder, tongues out in a frenzy. Yet when she wasn’t, she whispered all sorts of good things between her noise. Less than a minute now, we guessed as I began to twitch, no amount of recitation of everything I remembered was going to save me now, nor was my earlier delay, that trick was about to run its course. 

Hearing her goad me with my eyes as she stared into me, together with the warmth of her lips, and of course the intimacy of us. This was her consummation, and the only thing left was carnality. 

“You’re close?” Xinyu asked. I couldn’t say anything. I was just nodding now. 

“Me too,” she huffed. Giving me that non-verbal look, a slightly raised eyebrow. It was a question, I let out a sly smile, and so did she. I would let her overrun me. We kissed, deeply, not nervously like a while ago. It was a consenting kiss—we were gonna cum together.

Hand up her back, I slid it down her hip as her movements became more controlled now, if not a bit faster, but still amateur. She was much closer than I thought, her moans were beginning to betray her as well. Our expressions were shared now, as we had let go of pretense, I had given her part of the fun but knew that this was the orgasm we were waiting for. 

Xinyu’s arms held me closer, I saw her move her mouth just before putting her lips on mine, I couldn’t tell what she was trying to say. The moment I pulled back, she had her eyes closed, only opening for a second before continuing, moaning even when our lips and tongues were together. She was louder now, her arm and pussy's embrace on my shaft grew tighter, shuddering as I tried to hold on to something. Then, her right arm flew to my thigh, breaking away as she let out a long, low moan as her orgasm came onto her. She shook—and I blew—with my lips barely able to get on her neck as I felt the first twitches unload. It was intense, hot, painting her walls with my cum. I shut my eyes and felt my strength drain into her, our fingers clawing, my legs pushing her to me as I came down from myself. 

We held each other as we caught our breath, now we were tired. A long kiss goodnight followed, and she assured me she was going to be okay. 

Once again, it was a blur after that. We cleaned up after ourselves, repeating our procedures, and not feeling like changing the sheets, just decided to crash on the bed again. Though now the same bed was stained with a young couple’s juices, much to the truth of the madamé at the front desk. I thought about grabbing some food from whatever we had left in a futile bid to get our energy back. It wasn't until Xinyu, leaning on my shoulder, dropped her book in my lap that we decided it was lights out. I shut the stove door to at least plunge the room into some semblance of darkness and came beside Xinyu.

She, after confusing me for a bit, grabbed my right arm and pulled me into a cuddle. I was quite shocked, but a kiss on the back of her head was all I could do. I was sleepy, too lazy to talk by then. 

Xinyu then asked. 

“Want to go eat together next week? Oh, and,” she pulled my arm just a bit closer, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”

“You know,” another kiss on her hair, pulling her closer, “They’ll know, sooner or later,” I replied.

“Good. Better you than somebody new.”

[em1i2a3]

Kiss It Off Me

Pairing: The Sentry/Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: You return from a mission only to find Sentry waiting to take care of you for the night.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, and a little bit of angst, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of injuries, It was a very rough mission, and you’re in pain.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex, Sensual Touching, Fingering, Body Worship, Praising, Cockwarming, Use of ‘good girl’, Dirty Talk

Author's Note: Just a little blurb fic with Sentry, such a fun little write up. Also happy release day for Thunderbolts (digital edition lol). So fun to be able to watch the movie again at home! Anyways. Hope y’all enjoy <3

Word Count: 7,799

The mission was technically a success, but success didn’t mean painless. Your shoulder screamed with every slight movement, a deep, blooming ache from where you’d landed hard on the edge of the stairwell after dodging gunfire. A shallow cut traced the curve of your hip–one you’d stitched yourself on the quinjet mid-air with trembling hands and a jaw clenched too tightly to scream. It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t straight. But it was closed at least.

Your ribs bore the memory of a body slam you hadn’t seen coming–an armored guard catching you just as you’d turned to run. The impact with the concrete wall had left you gasping and disoriented, your side lit with white-hot pain that still hadn’t ebbed. You could feel the bruises setting in, blooming like dark flowers beneath your skin.

It wasn’t the worst pain you had ever felt–far from it–but it was the kind that crept in slowly. The kind that sank its teeth into you and settled in your bones, making every step feel heavier, and your chest tighten slightly. The pain didn’t scream, rather it whispered, and buzzed beneath your skin.

The elevator shuddered slightly as it climbed, and you let your weight sag against the cool metal wall, eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched through the buzz of pain still working its way under your skin. The mission was over. The job was done. But your body hadn’t caught up to that yet–it was still moving like you were bracing for another hit.

The doors slid open with a soft ding, and the warm, familiar chaos of the compound’s upper floor greeted you like a wave: the scent of reheated takeout, gear hitting the floor, the quiet murmur of overlapping voices.

The team was home.

Bucky sat sideways on one of the leather chairs, unlacing his boots with one hand and nursing a bottle of water with the other. Ava stood at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, sorting through a bag of confiscated tech with a half-eaten protein bar clenched in her teeth, and Yelena was peering into the fridge, handing more leftovers to Alexei, mumbling something to him in Russian

Walker glanced up from where he was sprawled on the couch and gave a low huff of air when he saw you.

”Jesus, what happened to you?” You shot him a look as you stepped stiffly out of the elevator, trying not to wince at the weight on your hip.

“Tried kissing a concrete wall. Didn’t go well.”

“Did you at least take out the guy who threw you into it?” Bucky asked without looking up.

“Twice,” You muttered, “Knocked him out with my elbow…Then a few minutes later he got back up so I needed to resort to a pipe.” That got a small grunt of approval. Ava raised a brow.

”You okay though?” You shrugged with one arm–the one that didn’t feel like it had been dislocated and snapped back into place all in one movement.

”I’m as good as I can be. I did stitch myself up on the Quinjet though.” You replied, lifting your gear up and pushing your waistband down slightly to show the gnarly gash off to your peers, hearing the sharp intake of breaths, the cringing that came with them picturing you stitching yourself up on your own.

“At least it’s straight,” Yelena commented, eyes narrowing slightly as she examined the already bruising wound you had exposed. You huffed out a weak laugh.

”Yeah, that’s all that matters, I guess.” You shot back.

“Should eat something,” Bucky chimed in, tossing his boots aside. “You kind of look like you’re on the brink of passing out.”

You let out a long, low exhale, scrubbing a hand over your face. “Yeah, I will. I just…Need a shower first. I feel all sticky and dirty.”

“You are sticky and dirty,” Yelena called out, tossing a crumpled napkin at you, hoping it would hit you, but it just fell helplessly to the floor.

“Guess we’ll save something for you.” Walker said, with a sigh.

”How thoughtful,” You shot back dryly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth as you turned and shuffled toward the hallway. You made your way to your room slowly, your footsteps echoing a little too loud on the polished floor, the pain in your ribs flaring every time you twisted. Your hand grazed the wall once to regain your balance, but you finally made it to your room.

You stepped in slowly, and closed the door behind you with a low click, hearing it echo off the walls as you let your body sag, breathing in deeply through your nose. Warm amber and soft spice met you like an embrace, subtle but unmistakable, it was the smell of your favourite candle. A moment of panic struck you for a second, thinking that you left it burning before going on your mission, and quickly you turned around–and there he was.

Sentry stood near your dresser, broad shoulders relaxed, golden light flickering in his glowing eyes. He was wearing a pair of navy sweatpants and a black t-shirt, holding the candle in question delicately in one hand, the flame dancing to life the moment his gaze locked on the wick. The matchbox sat untouched nearby. He never needed it.

The room felt warmer just from his presence.

And somehow…Softer.

The bath faucet was still running. You could hear it from the ensuite–a steady stream, purposeful and calm. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus clung to the steam curling faintly through the open door.

And on the small table by your bed–your favorite.

A toasted steak sandwich, still hot, wrapped in parchment from that little corner deli you swore by. Perfectly crisped. Melted cheese escaping from the edge. Just by seeing it your stomach growled, and it ignited a hunger in you that almost tore apart your insides. You practically had to tear your eyes away from the sandwich to look at him.

”Sen?” Your voice cracked softly, the weight of the day pressing down on every syllable, “What’re you doing?” He turned fully toward you, the candle flickering gently in his hand. The glow kissed the edge of his light brown hair, danced across the line of his jaw, and softened his usually sharp features. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips–that smile, the one that always felt like sunrise after the longest night.

”I haven’t done this for you in a bit,” He replied, voice low and tender, “I thought you deserved a little night of appreciation.” His words hit somewhere between your chest and throat, soft and heavy and sweet. Your heart stuttered–pressing against your ribs, a slight pain echoing through your torso.

“You don’t have to do that,” You said, shaking your head gently, as if that would somehow protect you from the way his kindness always hit so deeply. Sentry set the candle down on the dresser with care, then stepped toward you, the floor creaking beneath his weight. You didn’t move, you felt frozen into place beneath his gaze. Your back met the door with a quiet thud as he came to stand before you, towering, warm, steady. The glow from the candle behind him haloed the edge of his frame, golden light caught in the angles of his collarbone, the curl of his fingers as he reached for you.

His hand lifted–so gently–and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over the faint grime still lingering on your skin from the mission. His fingers curled behind your ear, anchoring you in something that wasn’t pain, or duty, or exhaustion.

Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was gentle, chaste in a way, but impossibly full. You leaned into it, your body sighing into the contact, your hands finding the hem of his soft t-shirt, rubbing the stitching gently. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I didn’t do all this because I had to,” He whispered, barely louder than the sound of the bath running behind him, “You know that.” You nodded faintly, your eyes slipping closed as you pressed a second kiss to the corner of his mouth, just over the edge of that quiet smile.

“I already know you apprec–” But before you could finish, his finger lifted to your lips, silencing you with the lightest touch. His expression was so soft it was almost like he was going to fall asleep.

”Just enjoy the gesture,” He murmured, “Please, my love.” Your fingers curled slightly against his abdomen. The fabric was warm from his skin, soft from wear. You let your hand linger there, the pads of your fingers gently kneading into the muscle beneath his shirt like you just needed somewhere to rest your touch.

“…Okay,” You murmured against his chest. Then again, quieter–closer to a sigh. “Okay.” He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead–a soft, lingering press.

“Let me turn off the faucet before the tub overflows,” he said gently, brushing his thumb one last time along your cheek before stepping away.

You watched him go, your eyes trailing across the solid line of his back and the way his shirt clung to him. You could still hear the water running–low and steady–until it stopped with a soft twist of the handle. Silence settled in again. Not heavy. Not tense. Just quiet, the kind that made your chest finally begin to loosen.

When he returned, the golden glow of the candle behind you cast soft shadows across his face.

“Sit down,” He said, voice soft but sure. “You eat and I’ll get you out of those boots and pants.” You raised your eyebrows.

”Wow, forward.” He gave you a small smirk.

”You always think I’m up to something.” He commented. You huffed a breath through your nose–too tired to laugh fully–and shuffled toward your bed, keeping your eyes on him. He followed at a short distance, not hovering, but close enough to feel kept. You picked up the sandwich slowly, still warm in your hands. The paper crinkled softly as you peeled it open, and the smell hit you like a gut-punch.

It was heavenly. The scent of caramelized onions, the sweet juice from the steak, the barbecue sauce that was just lightly brushed along the meat, all of it mixed together made your mouth water. You sat at the very edge of the bed, careful not to get the duvet dirty, and took a bite.

Your eyes fluttered closed.

A soft, indecent moan escaped your throat.

“Jesus,” You breathed, your voice hoarse and low, “That’s fantastic.”

Sentry laughed under his breath as he lowered to his knees in front of you. “I knew you’d love it.” You hummed around another bite, your body slumping slightly as the warmth and savour taste cut through your hunger and fatigue like sunlight through fog.

“Do you want a bite?” You asked through a full mouth, glancing down at him. He shook his head immediately.

”It’s all yours. Just keep eating.”

And you did.

As you chewed slowly, savoring it, you watched him unlace your first boot with methodical precision. His big hands moved gently–deftly–as if even your shoes deserved careful handling. He didn’t rush. He didn’t pull. He undid. Piece by piece.

Your boot came off with a soft tug, and he set it aside before moving to the next.

Seeing Sentry like this–kneeling between your legs, golden and gentle and steady–was a sight that stole the air from your lungs in a different kind of way. Not the way a body slam or a broken rib did. No. This was the kind of breathlessness that came from being known.

A god among men, down on the floor in front of you, untangling your laces like it was a ritual. Like he’d done it a hundred times. Like he’d do it a thousand more if it meant you never had to lift a finger after nights like this. His fingers worked with such careful rhythm, even after the second boot slipped free. He didn’t immediately stand–just kept his hands at your shins, thumbs tracing slow, grounding circles over your pants like he was still anchoring you. Like you might drift away if he let go too soon.

“Feel a little better?” He asked, looking up at you with those ever-glowing eyes. So much strength behind them. So much kindness.

You nodded, your throat thick as you took the last bite of your sandwich. “God, you're heaven sent, Sen.”

That made him smile, and then he kissed your knee. Not quickly. Not playfully. A soft, gentle press that made your heart flutter. You crumpled the parchment paper in your hand and leaned sideways to set it on the table. Your muscles groaned at the stretch, but it was easier now–easier with him there.

Then his voice again. That low, steady balm that always made you relax.

“Get up,” he said softly, his hands sliding gently up to rest at your thighs. “Let me get you undressed so you can take your bath.”

You bit the inside of your lip, heart fluttering now for a different reason entirely. “Are you going to be joining me?”

He raised his brows, the softest grin curling at his mouth. “Would you like me to?”

You nodded without hesitation. “Of course. You’re my human heating pad.”

He laughed at that, that warm, boyish sound that made your chest ache in the best way. “Well, I’m glad you like how I overheat.”

You reached out and gently poked the tip of his nose, “You’re a sun god after all Sentry, I think it’s only fitting.” His smile softened. The way he looked at you in that moment–bathed in candlelight, your legs still resting loosely on either side of him, his hands still holding you steady–was like he was drinking you in. Like he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful in his lifetime.

You rose from the bed with a soft sound in your throat–a half-whimper, half-breath–your legs stiff, your muscles groaning in protest. Sentry stood with you, rising as though tethered to your every movement, his presence immediately behind you, hands already moving with gentle purpose.

He started with your outer tactical shell, easing it off your body piece by piece. The Velcro straps peeled apart with quiet rips, but his touch was soft enough to silence the sound before it became harsh. His fingers skimmed along your arms as he slid the sleeves down, easing your bruised shoulder with a careful slowness that made your breath hitch.

“You’re so strong,” He murmured, almost to himself.

Then he went for your pants.

He crouched again, thumbs slipping beneath the waistband, dragging the fabric down slowly, his lips brushing along every inch of newly revealed skin–your hips, your thighs, the curve just above your knees. Each kiss was soft and grounding, like he was reassuring himself that you were here. Alive. Breathing. When your pants pooled at your feet, he looked up at you–eyes glowing gold, warm and unblinking. Then his gaze dipped to your hip, where the rough, crooked stitch job you’d done mid-air was still raw and angry-looking.

His hand hovered just above it.

Then–gently–he let a single finger glide along the length of it, following the uneven thread with a feather-light touch.

“Looks painful,” He said quietly, voice low and full of concern.

You shook your head, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair as he knelt before you.

“Not anymore,” You murmured. “It’s not bad, Sen.”

Still, he exhaled like it physically hurt him to see it on you. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss beside the stitches, and then another just below it. And when he stood, his hands trailing back up your sides, he kissed your cheek. Your forehead. Your temple.

“Let’s get you into the tub, hmm?” he said softly, brushing a knuckle down your jaw.

You nodded, trusting him to guide you the rest of the way.

The two of you crossed the room together, your body aching but lighter under his touch. Steam ghosted around your calves as you stepped into the bathroom, trailing from the wide porcelain tub half-filled with hot, lavender-scented water. The room was dim–only the low, golden glow from a small wall sconce and the flicker of candlelight behind you softened the corners. The air was humid and floral, clinging to your bruised skin like a second touch.

Sentry stopped you near the bath, his presence warm and unhurried. His hand skimmed across your spine as he stepped in behind you, and then up again to the curve of your shoulders, fingers lightly hooking the straps of your black bra.

“Let me,” He murmured. You nodded, and he slowly guided the straps down your arms. His hands barely brushed your skin, and yet every inch he uncovered felt more alive under his fingers. When the band loosened, he let the bra fall to the side, carefully, like it was something precious. He didn’t gawk. He didn’t rush.

Instead, he leaned in–his lips ghosting over the deep impressions the straps had left behind, kissing one and then another, his breath warm on your shoulder. Then he dipped lower, lips brushing across the tops of your breasts. Barely a kiss. More reverence than desire. It didn’t feel like he was worshiping your body so much as tending to it. You reached up, fingers carding through the back of his hair gently, thumb stroking along the soft strands at the nape of his neck. He lingered there a moment longer, forehead briefly touching your collarbone, before pulling back and lowering to one knee again.

“Almost done,” he said softly.

Your underwear was next–black, soaked slightly through with sweat and the faint copper tang of blood. He slid them down with quiet care, kissing the soft curve of your lower stomach before guiding the fabric past your thighs, your knees, and down to your ankles. You lifted each foot for him, and when they were gone, he pressed a final kiss to the center of your hip, just above your stitched wound.

Then he peeled your socks off–one, then the other–and stood, his hands trailing slowly up the outside of your thighs as he rose.

“Let’s get you in.”

You stepped toward the edge of the tub, and he helped you lift one leg, then the other, his arms steady beneath you until you were lowered into the water. The moment your body broke the surface, heat wrapped around your aching limbs like silk, easing into your bruises, your cuts, the dull throb in your hip. A soft gasp slipped from your lips.

“Good?” He asked gently.

You nodded, already melting. “Perfect.”

He lingered at the edge for a moment, watching you, before his hands slid to the hem of his shirt. He peeled it off in one motion, revealing the broad stretch of his chest and shoulders, all golden skin and hard muscle. His torso was carved like marble–sculpted without being cold. His chest was smooth save for the faint dusting of light brown hair at the center, a trail that disappeared below the waistband of his sweats.

And when those came off next–slowly, with care–you felt your breath stutter again.

Everything about him was warmth and gravity. Strength in the lines of his thighs and hips, gentleness in the way his shoulders stayed relaxed, in the way he moved with intention, never flaunting, never hasty. Just there. Present. For you.

“I’ll slide in behind you,” He said, his voice low and hushed in the warm air. “Lean forward for a moment.” You shifted, your arms bracing along the sides of the tub as you leaned forward slightly, letting the heat seep deeper into your muscles. Behind you, you felt the ripple of the water shifting–then the press of his leg as he stepped in, followed by the wide stretch of his chest as he sank down into the bath.

The moment his body settled behind you, the water seemed to rise–just a little–and you could feel the heat intensify. Not painful. Not overwhelming. Just more. Like sitting in sunlight instead of candlelight.

His arms came around you, steady and sure. One wrapped low around your waist, the other sliding up to cradle your ribs just beneath your chest, his palm broad and flat against your skin. You leaned back into him fully, your head falling against his shoulder, eyes closing. His chin rested lightly atop your head, and the two of you sat there in perfect stillness, wrapped in scent and steam and warmth, the water lapping quietly around your shoulders.

His thumb stroked over your side slowly, tracing idle circles.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered, his voice nothing more than a breath in the steam, like it wasn’t even meant to be heard. “Especially like this.” You hummed softly, your heart giving a tender stutter. His voice alone could do that–thick with warmth, like he was reciting a prayer.

“Everything about you,” He continued, lips brushing the crown of your head in a kiss so gentle it barely disturbed your damp hair, “Is perfect.”

A breath caught in your throat. Not because you didn’t believe him–but because he meant it. Every time. You could feel it in his voice, in the way he held you like the world didn’t matter outside this bath. Like there was nothing more important than the way your heartbeat thrummed under his palm. His other arm slid more snugly around your waist, pulling you just a little tighter against him. You felt his thighs shift under the water, cradling you deeper into his lap. His chest rose and fell slowly against your back.

“You’re a masterpiece,” He murmured, voice low and certain, like he was speaking scripture. “And you don’t even know it.” A quiet, shaky breath escaped your lips, and you shifted slightly in the water, your hands coming to rest over his–one at your ribs, one just below your navel. Your fingers curled over his knuckles.

“I’m so grateful for you, Sentry,” You whispered, tilting your head back just a little to nuzzle his jaw. His chin lifted from your head, and he dipped his face down, his lips brushing over your shoulder–first one kiss, then another, soft and wet, the heat of his mouth blooming against your skin.

“I love you,” He said, the words sinking through you, breath-warm and steady. “And you know I’ll do anything for you because of that.” You smiled, slow and full, the kind of smile that barely reached your lips but warmed your entire body from the inside out. Your fingers curled just a little tighter around his hands where they rested against your stomach, grounding you.

“I love you too,” You whispered.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty–it was sacred. Full of shared breath and heartbeat, of quiet gratitude. His arms didn’t move, but you could feel the way his chest swelled behind you, the small exhale through his nose brushing across your temple like a second kiss.

Your thumbs began to move slowly over his forearms, mapping the contours of him–learning the soft patches of skin beneath the crook of his elbow, the thick strength of his tendons, the way his veins pulsed gently just beneath the surface. You traced those invisible rivers without thought, memorizing him by touch.

His breath hitched–barely–but you felt it against your back. And it made something stir inside you. Your body shifted just a little, not deliberately–just a natural way to melt further into him. His hand at your ribs adjusted, the hold tightening just enough to press your back more fully into his chest, like he felt it too.

You tilted your head, pressing your lips to the underside of his jaw. A small kiss. Just skin and breath and heat. But it pulled a soft noise from his throat, low and reverent. You kissed him again, higher this time, near his pulse. And then you turned just enough to look at him–his glowing eyes already locked on yours, soft and awed.

Your fingers slid from his forearms to his thighs, underwater, where the heat lingered. You let your nails drag lightly down the muscle there, not in invitation—just in affection. But you felt him pulse against your lower back, hardening slowly, steadily.

His mouth found your shoulder again, but it was different now. Warmer. More open. His lips parted against your skin, and then he kissed lower—along your deltoid, the curve where your shoulder met your bicep, the soft edge of your tricep. You sighed, your breath catching as he trailed lower still.

And then his hand that rested just beneath your ribs began to move. Down. Slow. Worshipful.

It glided over the plane of your stomach, fingers spreading wide, trailing just beneath the surface of the water. His palm flattened against your lower belly, and the heat of it—despite the bath–seemed to brand you there.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

His fingers slipped lower, easing between your thighs under the water. The contact was featherlight at first, just a brush against your folds–but it sent a ripple of tension straight through you. You sucked in a breath, your hand flying to his wrist instinctively–not to stop him, but to steady yourself.

“You’re already so soft,” He murmured, his voice rasped and low, almost like he was in awe of it. “So warm.” He kissed your neck again, this time at the base where your pulse fluttered, and let his fingers dip deeper, slowly gliding through the softness.

“Is this okay?” He asked softly, his lips moving against your skin.

You nodded immediately, pressing back against his chest. “Yes,” You breathed. “Please, Sen.”

He groaned low behind you, the sound of it vibrating through his chest and into your back. His fingers began to move in slow, reverent circles over your clit, gentle at first–measured and steady. He was touching you like he had all the time in the world. You gasped, your legs twitching slightly beneath the water. The movement caused your hips to shift back, brushing more firmly against the growing hardness between his legs. That contact alone made your eyes flutter closed.

“Every part of you,” He whispered, pressing his mouth to your jaw, “Deserves to be cherished.”

You whimpered, your hand sliding down to rest over his, urging his fingers to move faster–but he didn’t. He kept his slow rhythm, teasing you with just enough pressure to keep you spiraling. His free arm wrapped tighter around your waist, pinning you gently against him.

“I want you to feel good,” He said, his voice breaking into a soft groan as you ground back into him. “You’ve been through too much today. Let me love you.”

His words were so sincere, so full of warmth and need that it made your throat tighten. You nodded, one hand clutching the edge of the tub while the other reached behind you to cradle the back of his neck.

“Then love me, Sen,” You begged. “Please.”

And he did.

His fingers pressed more firmly now, stroking you in slow, deliberate circles, dipping down to gather more of your slick before returning to that sensitive bundle of nerves. His other hand moved up–cupping your breast underwater, massaging gently, his thumb brushing slowly over your nipple.

You gasped again, your whole body arching into him now, water sloshing softly against the tub’s edges. The pleasure was building, thick and hot and slow, curling through your belly like steam rising through the air.

“You’re so responsive,” He murmured, his voice dropping lower, more ragged. “So good for me. I love how you feel in my hands.”

You moaned, helpless now, your body a live wire beneath his touch.

“Don’t stop,” You gasped.

“I won’t,” He promised. “I’ll never stop.”And with that, he kissed the side of your face, his fingers working you with increasing purpose, drawing you closer and closer to the edge with every breath.

“You’re everything,” He praised, “Everything I’ve ever wanted.” Your head tilted back, baring your throat to him, and he took the invitation with quiet reverence. His lips brushed the hollow of your neck first–soft, wet, lingering. Then higher, to the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. He kissed you there again and again, each one slower, deeper, as though he was tasting you like something sacred.

As his mouth worshipped your throat, his hand dipped lower beneath the water. His fingers slipped past your folds, slow and deliberate, then eased inside you in one smooth, gentle push.

You gasped softly, your body tensing for a moment before melting back into him, the heat of the water wrapping around you both like a silken cocoon. His free arm cinched tighter across your waist, anchoring you against his chest as his fingers curled inside you–exploring, filling, stroking in the most tender rhythm. You could feel him everywhere. Beneath your skin. Around you. Inside you.

“Just like that,” He coaxed, his lips grazing your earlobe. “You feel so good, my love. So warm…So perfect around my fingers.”

The words hit like sparks against your nerves. Your thighs twitched under the water, knees flexing slightly as the pleasure spiraled up through your abdomen. The water sloshed softly with your movements, rippling against the sides of the tub in gentle waves.

He kissed down the side of your neck again, murmuring into your skin.

“You don’t have to do anything,” He breathed. “Just let me take care of you. You deserve this. You deserve all of me.”

His fingers pumped into you slowly, deeply, his thumb brushing over your clit with each upward stroke, sending a fresh wave of warmth through your body. Your breath hitched, your mouth falling open slightly as your head dropped back against his shoulder.

“Sen…” You whimpered, one hand grasping his forearm, the other gripping the tub’s edge. “Oh my god…”

“Shhh,” He hushed his mouth tracing the curve of your ear now. “I’ve got you. Just let go. Let me love you through it.”

Your hips rocked up against his hand instinctively, chasing the growing rhythm. He kept his movements steady, perfectly in tune with your body, curling his fingers just right, dragging over that sensitive spot that made your whole body seize and tremble. His breath ghosted over your cheek, ragged now, heavy with affection and want.

“I love when you fall apart for me,” He groaned softly. “You’re so beautiful like this…Coming apart right here in my arms.”

The tension built rapidly, coiling inside you like a spring. Your thighs jerked again, and your mouth dropped open in a gasp as your climax surged–hot and overwhelming. It ripped through you in waves, your body twitching as the water rocked around you. His arm held you tight to him, anchoring you while his fingers continued slowly, lovingly stroking you through every last flutter and aftershock.

You shook once, twice–then sagged completely into his chest, a soft sob of breath escaping your lips as you melted in his arms. Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow waves. His lips didn’t leave your skin once.

He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered again, voice shaking with how much he meant it. “You did so good for me. So perfect.”

As your breathing began to slow, his fingers slid free from your core with the same care they entered. You whimpered faintly at the loss, but then he pressed his hand flat against your stomach again–warm and grounding.

His hold was tender and soft. The steady pressure of his palm over your belly made you feel full again, secure, like you hadn’t been emptied at all.

You shifted slightly in the water, your body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The bath had quieted again–just the soft slosh of water lapping against porcelain, the echo of breath between you. But beneath the stillness, you could feel him.

Thick. Hot. Pressed along the curve of your ass and lower back, his cock throbbed softly where it had been pinned this whole time, heavy and insistent. You didn’t need to move to feel the ache begin to return, blooming low in your belly–not pain this time, but want. Deeper. Slower. A hunger that wasn’t desperate, just…Present and persistent.

Your hand slid underwater, down your own thigh before curving outward, and you reached behind you–finding the firm, muscled line of his leg beneath the surface. You traced up his thigh gently, fingers brushing the strained muscle until you felt the sharp twitch of him under your touch.

Sentry let out a low sigh, something halfway between restraint and awe. His voice broke softly on your name.

”Y/N…You don’t have to,” He murmured, his lips brushing your temple, “You’re exhausted.”

“I know,” You said, your voice low, lazy, lips still kiss-wet. Your fingers brushed higher, teasing along the base of him now. You felt him twitch again. “Doesn’t mean you can’t be inside me though…” His breath hitched. Then he let out a soft, huffed laugh–a little stunned, a little teasing.

“You gonna sit on it?”

You nodded slowly, the motion brushing your cheek against his shoulder. Your voice dropped even lower–silk and smoke in your throat.

“Gonna let you fill me up real slow. Just wanna feel you.” His hands tightened on your waist, his restraint fracturing. You could feel the heat pouring off him behind you, more intense now than the bath itself.

“Mmm,” He hummed against your neck, “And you’re not gonna do anything else but sit on it?” You felt your face flush at that. Heat prickled over your cheeks, your chest, even under the water. You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“I’ll try my best…” You whispered, your voice a little hoarse, a little wrecked from your previous moans.

He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his lips grazing your ear.

“Alright…Sit up a bit.” You lifted yourself just enough for the bathwater to lap between your thighs, your whole body trembling slightly from the effort–and from anticipation. The heat of him pressed against your entrance, heavy and hot and so much. You could feel the thick crown of him nudging there–slick and swollen from restraint, the skin silky against your folds.

One of his hands stayed at your hip, steadying you, fingers splayed wide with control. The other slipped beneath the water–between your thighs–and you felt the faint ripple just before the blunt head of his cock was guided into place.

A shiver tore through your spine the second he aligned himself.

“Ready?” He murmured against the shell of your ear, voice like molten gold–liquid, thick, reverent.

You nodded. “Yes…Please.”

And with that–slowly, impossibly slow–he began to ease you down onto him.

The stretch was exquisite. Hot, full, delicious in its ache. Your walls fluttered around the tip as it pushed in, your breath catching in your throat.

“Ohh–” Your mouth fell open with a gasp as your body began to take him inch by inch. His grip on your hip tightened, not enough to bruise, but enough to hold you steady as gravity helped your tired muscles sink onto him. You felt every ridge. Every vein. The press of his cock against your tender, sensitive walls made you burn and melt and tremble all at once. He was thick, and your body opened for him slowly–so slowly.

“F-fuck,” You breathed, your voice raw with overwhelmed need, “God you feel so fucking good.”

“I know,” He murmured, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, his voice taut with restraint. “You’re doing perfect. Taking me so well.” Your hips trembled as you sank further–deeper–feeling him fill you with his sacred heat. The water sloshed faintly around you, breaking against porcelain as you eased down the last few inches, your walls dragging against every inch of him like they were memorizing him.

And then–you were fully seated.

He was deep. Pressed tight against the softest, most sensitive part of you.

A long, breathless moan escaped your lips as your back collapsed into his chest again, your head lolling back onto his shoulder, heart thundering beneath your bruised ribs. The fullness was dizzying. Beautiful. Complete.

You felt him groan low behind you–his chest rumbling where it met your spine.

His lips dragged along the slope of your neck as he wrapped both arms around your waist again–tight, possessive, tender.

“Now just sit here,” He whispered against your throat, the heat of his breath fogging your skin, “And be a good girl.” He pressed a kiss just beneath your jaw, his mouth curling into a grin as he added, softer:

“Don’t move.” You swallowed hard, the command sinking deep into your chest, coiling in your belly like molten syrup.

“S-Sentry…” You said, your voice almost a whine, high and shaky. You could feel him smiling against your neck.

“You said you’d try your best…” He teased, the amusement low and hot in his voice. “Are you giving up already?” You clenched around him hard at that–unintentionally. It made your walls flutter and your breath stutter. His cock twitched inside you in response–pressing right up against that soft, perfect spot inside you that made your eyes flutter shut.

“No…I’m not.” You said quietly, but your hips shifted just the slightest bit–your body betraying you–and immediately you felt both of his arms tighten around your waist, grounding you, locking you in place.

“Ah ah ah,” He warned, his voice now dipped in velvet and steel, “No squirming.” You gasped as he pulsed inside you again, hot and thick and impossibly deep.

“You said no moving,” He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You wanted to feel me…So feel me. Don’t fuck me. Don’t grind. Just take it.”

You whimpered again–your entire body trembling with restraint.

It was exquisite torture.

Because you could feel him. Every twitch. Every throb. Every time your walls fluttered around him–his cock responded, pulsing right up against your g-spot, rubbing against your most vulnerable, swollen nerves without even moving.

It was maddening. Divine.

“Please,” You whimpered, “I–I need–”

“I know you do,” He whispered back, his breath hitting your skin while his mouth dragged down your throat again, kissing over your pulse as it fluttered, frantic. “You’re being so good. Just a little longer.” Your whimper cracked into the steam like thunder, trembling and high, the sound barely human from how much it hurt to be this full without any movement happening. Your nails dug into the porcelain of the tub, searching for any kind of grounding as your thighs quaked, every breath a stutter against his chest. You couldn’t stop clenching around him–your body reacting to the pulse of him buried deep inside, his cock twitching again like it was teasing you on purpose.

“Sentry…” You gasped, your head turning just enough to bury your cheek against his shoulder, voice breaking with desperation. “Please…I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t start moving…” The ache was unbearable. It was the kind of ache that shimmered on the edge of tears–not pain. Just that maddening, insistent hunger that sat behind your ribs and twisted like a vice. You needed friction. You needed relief. You needed him. He exhaled softly, the sound brushing your ear like silk. One of his hands slid down, rubbing slowly over your hip–soothing, almost, like he was petting a live wire and pretending not to notice how close it was to sparking. His other hand came up, cupping your breast with warm, deliberate reverence. His palm spread wide, thumb brushing over your nipple slowly, rubbing small, tender circles into the sensitive peak.

“Can’t hold back, can you?” He murmured, his voice dipped low and rich, thick with affection and restraint. “You really want me to fuck you, hmm?” You nodded immediately, the movement jerking as you struggled to stay still.

“Yes,” You choked, your voice breathless, cracking. “I need you, Sen, I need it–please, please…” His lips brushed your temple, and he let out a quiet, approving hum.

“Okay,” He whispered, soft and devastating.

And then he moved.

His hands slid to your waist–firm, steady, claiming–and he shifted you up just enough for your body to whimper in protest at the loss of fullness. But he didn’t leave you empty for long. With a slow, controlled thrust, he pushed up into you from beneath, seating you fully again with a deep, wet grind that punched a cry from your throat.

“Fuck–” You gasped, stars exploding behind your eyes as the friction finally, finally met the ache. Your hands flew to cover his at your waist, clutching at him like a lifeline.

And then he did it again.

A smooth, deliberate roll of his hips, thrusting up into you with the strength of a man built to hold the sun. He wasn’t wild. He wasn’t rough. But god, he was relentless–dragging his cock against every sensitive inch of your fluttering walls like he was carving himself into your body.

“You take me so well,” He groaned, voice rough now, fraying at the edges. “So tight, so fucking wet for me.” Your head tipped back, your mouth falling open as he fucked up into you again, this time harder, the sound of water sloshing around your joined bodies adding a rhythm to the moans that spilled from you. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping you pressed flush to his chest, keeping you his.

The angle was perfect. Every upward thrust pressed against your g-spot with brutal precision, making your legs shake and your body arch against him helplessly.

“You wanted this?” He gritted out, his mouth at your shoulder now, teeth grazing your skin, “Begging to be filled, to be fucked just like this?”

“Yes,” you gasped, writhing now in his grip, the water splashing around your hips as he began to pick up a rhythm. “Yes–oh god–Sentry–don’t stop–”

He didn’t.

His hands gripped tighter, anchoring your hips as he fucked into you from beneath, water sloshing with each deep, wet thrust, the slap of skin and steam wrapping around you like a second storm. You could feel the wet heat of his breath on your neck, his lips pressing frantic kisses against your throat between ragged groans.

“Gonna fill you up,” He growled, teeth dragging just enough to make you cry out. “Gonna make you feel me for days.”

Your hands flew back to tangle in his hair, pulling hard as your body began to climb—higher and higher toward that edge again, your core clenching around him with every thrust. He cursed against your skin, losing rhythm for just a second from how tightly you squeezed him.

“That’s it,” He moaned, his voice wrecked now, desperate and holy. “Take me–take every inch like the good girl you are.”

You broke.

Your orgasm slammed into you like a wave, hard and wet and sob-wrecked. You cried out as your body seized, shattering around him as he held you through it, fucking you slowly through every tremor, every shudder, every helpless moan. Your nails scraped down his thighs underwater, searching for something–anything–to hold onto as your vision went white.

He fucked you slower now, like he was worshipping the way your walls kept fluttering around him, the way your body kept spasming from pleasure even as you sagged back into his arms.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” He whispered into your ear, his voice trembling. “I’m so close…Can I cum inside you?”

“Yes,” You breathed, dazed, tears clinging to your lashes. “Yes, please…Give me everything Sen.” He groaned, deep and shattered, and you felt his cock twitch–once, twice–before he slammed up into you one final time and stilled. His whole body tensed behind you as he came, heat spilling into your fluttering walls, his breath ragged against your ear.

You could feel the pulse of it. Hot and claiming. You collapsed fully against his chest, breath catching in your throat as the scent of sex and lavender swirled around you both. He held you there, unmoving. Still deep inside. Still wrapped around you like a shield.

Your breath slowed in his arms, chest rising and falling in gentle waves against his, every limb heavy with release, every nerve still humming with the afterglow. The water around you sloshed faintly as he shifted just enough to wrap you tighter, still buried inside you, still holding you like you were something sacred.

His lips pressed to your shoulder–once, twice, three times. Gentle. Grounding. He breathed you in, his voice warm and low against your skin.

“You okay?” He whispered.

You nodded slowly, your head resting against his collarbone. “You take care of me so well, Sen…God, I love you so much.” You felt him exhale through his nose–soft, reverent. Then his lips returned to your shoulder, brushing it again with tender affection, like he couldn’t help himself.

“I love you too,” He murmured. “I’m dedicated to you. I want you to feel satisfied…And happy. Always.” Your fingers found his beneath the water–his hand still resting over your stomach–and you laced your fingers through his, threading them tight and sure.

“I’m always happy with you,” You whispered.

He let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound vibrating gently through your back, through your ribcage, through your very bones.

“I know you are,” He said, kissing your shoulder again with a crooked smile in his voice. “Even though I probably get on your nerves sometimes.”

You tilted your head back just enough to kiss his jaw, your lips brushing over the strong, sun-warmed line of it. “You balance me out,” You murmured, “You relax me. You never get on my nerves.”

Then you brought his hand up, still interlaced with yours, guiding it to your lips. You kissed each knuckle softly, one after the other, pressing your mouth into his skin like a prayer.

[yunalinwrites]

saja boys' sixth member is... a girl ? - first time seeing you in girly clothes | saja boys x reader

series summary: in this story, you are pretending to be a boy. not just any boy--a saja boy. but what will you do when not even your fellow members--the ones you now share a dorm with--can find out you're actually a girl? stay tuned for more!! (heavily based on you're beautiful kdrama + ouran high school host club)

scene summary: after having always seen you a boy, seeing you in your true form has them feeling some type of way… (lots of possessiveness + a teensy weensy bit of suggestiveness) / based on this req

It was a hot summer midnight in the Saja Boys’ dorm and you couldn't sleep. Between the faulty AC and the release of your guys’ new album coming soon, you found yourself restlessly tossing and turning.

At this point, you'd already come clean to the boys about how you're actually a girl, so you figured it wouldn't hurt to start wearing your more feminine pajamas. After all, if you had to constantly be playing the part of a boy during the day, you could at least stay in touch with your feminine side during the night. Although, it didn't occur to you that none of your roommates had actually seen you in your true form…

💪 Abs caught you on your way out of the convenience store. You had a craving for rice balls, so you threw on a cropped tank top and pajama pants and ran to the nearest corner store. It seems like you weren't the only one, though; just before you reached the exit–a bag-ful of goodies in your hand–the doors slid open with a chime.

“Abby?”

In front of you was none other than your pink-haired roommate, also wearing pajama pants and slides. On top of that–though he wasn't matching crop tops with you today–he had on a Saja Boys hoodie that somehow did little to conceal his muscles.

“Y/N?” he said.

“Abby!” you exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I was on a jog and I got thirsty.” He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie which--unbeknownst to you–was his “lying tic”. What actually happened is that he noticed you sneaking out late and, in order to make sure you were safe, followed you all the way here.

It was dark out, though, so he hadn't really seen you in the light. Until now, where the store’s flickering fluorescent light was shining on you.

To him, it was a beam from the heavens. You weren't wearing a binder--or a bra for that matter--to conceal your chest, and the crop top put the rest of your figure on display. And even though your face wasn't much different in the same sense, your outfit gave it a completely new context that he couldn't look in the eye without blood rushing to his cheeks… and elsewhere…

“You were on a jog at midnight…?” you questioned.

“Uh--yeah. I, uh… do midnight jogs. Along with my morning jogs. And also… afternoon jogs.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, not-so-subtly flexing with a cross of his arms.

You giggle. “Ah, I see. So that's your secret to a six pack?” With his hands out of his hoodie pocket, you take the opportunity to poke playfully at his abs.

At that, his face turns even pinker than his hair.

“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,” you promise with a wink, bringing your pointer finger to your mouth in a shushing motion.

He doesn't say anything--which you don't realize is because he's still too occupied with taking you all in–so you take it as your cue to leave. 

“I should probably go now,” you say. “Make sure you stay hydrated on your… midnight jog…”

“Wait–” he objects, grabbing your wrist just as you make it through the sliding doors. He looks you in the eye with a serious gaze, but the words struggle to come out.

For a second, neither of you make a move, blinking at each other in silence. Before either of you can come up with something to say, you’re suddenly distracted by the feeling of something cold hitting your shoulder. Using it as an escape from his heated gaze, you take your eyes off of him. Looking up to the sky, you hold your palm out to the falling water droplets.

Suddenly, you feel your other hand being pulled. Before you know it, you're moving away from the rain and your face is colliding with his warm chest, his scent filling your nostrils.

“You should've told me you were going out,” he murmurs, his chest rumbling beneath your burning cheeks.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Given his stature as an athlete, you expect his heartbeat to be slower. But, what you hear and feel beneath your ear seems to be thumping synchronously with yours–maybe even more rapid.

“Everyone was asleep…” you manage to respond, a little muffled as you try not to be obvious about the way you're burying yourself into him.

He, on the other hand, doesn't care about being conspicuous. He hugs you a little tighter. “Tell me next time.”

You bite your cheek, now letting yourself snuggle into him without shame. “Okay,” is all you can get yourself to whisper.

You stay like that for a little longer--which is a little strange to the cashier--but you don't care. Even if you wanted to move, the firm embrace he has around the small of your back wouldn't allow it. Eventually, though, you work up a bit more courage to pull back enough to look up at him and ask something.

“Hey, Abby… what’s in your pocket?” you ask with wide eyes. This whole time, you had been feeling something hard, long, and cylindrical in between the two of you.

“Oh,” he says. He takes an arm off of your back to slide it out. “You know, you should at least check the weather before you go out.”

It's a Saja Boys branded umbrella. What did you think it was?

He slowly lets go of you, grabbing your shopping bag and stepping into the outdoors to open the umbrella. Then, he looks back at you expectantly.

You smile. “Thank you,” you say, catching up with him.

As you begin to walk back in the direction of the dorm, you can't help but form another question: “Can I ask you something?”

He swallows nervously. “What is it?”

“If you knew it was going to rain… why did you go out on your ‘midnight jog’?” you ask.

He just smirks, looking down at you. 

“That's my secret.”

💐 Romance had caught you on your way to the bathroom. You had stayed up watching make-up tutorials all night, which made you miss doing a proper face. You still wore makeup for performances and shoots and such, but it was mostly just contour and eyebrow pomade to make you look more manly. So, you decided to do a little pre-shower look before you went to bed.

It felt a little weird to get dolled up with no destination, but screw it. You even put on a cute little nightgown to match. You never thought you'd describe glitter eyeshadow and tinted lip gloss as “refreshing,” but it really did feel nice to look like a girl again. Who knew you would miss eyeliner and mascara so much?

Sitting at your vanity, you yawned with a stretch, already feeling your falsies come off--now that was something you didn't miss. So, you got up and began to tip-toe towards the bathroom.

You didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour, so it scared you half to death when you saw a familiar head of pink hair emerge from the shared bathroom.

“Y/N?”

There shouldn't have been anything scary about your roommate in a T-Shirt and sweatpants, but you still had to cup your hand over your mouth to stop a scream from forming. Instinctively, you pull it back when you feel something sticky; the lip gloss formed a kiss mark on your palm. You feel your cheeks burn, suddenly realizing what you look like right now.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Romance asked curiously.

You stare down at your bunny slippers. “Um… yeah…” you admit sheepishly.

The nightgown itself was revealing enough, but somehow covering your face like this made you feel even more exposed. You prayed he wasn't seeing too clearly given that all the lights in the house were off.

Before you can take a step back, he switches on the bathroom light and grabs your wrist. 

“Come to the light so I can see you,” he tells you calmly, the dim glow coming through the doorway illuminating his soft smile.

Reluctantly, you step forward as he pulls you into the bathroom. Taking your chin in his hand and tilting your face side to side, he observes you carefully.

“Pretty,” he comments. He steps back, taking in the sight of all of you. His eyes trace the lace adorning your collarbone. The heat of his stare makes your cheeks flush bright pink--no product needed. “You should wear lip gloss more often.”

You bite your lip again. “Oh, I…” You laugh nervously. “You know I can't.”

“You can do it for our next concept,” he suggested, referring to the softer direction the Saja Boys were going to take for your next album. “Tell the makeup artists.”

“Or,” he began, grabbing your chin and pulling your face impossibly closer to his, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You can borrow some from me.”

He has you pinned against the sink, your back against the counter. You stare up at him through your lashes, fluttering them innocently… until one of them falls off. 

“I-I should probably take this off now…” you stutter.

You quickly turn around to face the mirror, trying not to look at him in your reflection. You try to keep your gaze downward, on the sink as you reach for your makeup wipes. But, as you do, you feel a hand instead of the plastic packaging.

He picks up the package and peels it open, the crinkling sound the only thing breaking the thick silence between you.

“Let me do it,” he instructs gently, grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face him. “Sit on the counter.”

You blink at him, the other eyelash falling off. “Oh… Um… Okay…”

You prop yourself up on the counter and allow him to slot himself between your legs. With the wipe in one hand, he tenderly holds your face in place with the other and begins to remove your makeup.

“Am I being too harsh?” he asks.

“N-no, that's ok…”

You sit in silence, staring at the floor and doing your best to focus on the cooling sensation. Every once in a while you look up, and each time he never fails to lock eyes with you. You hope he can't feel your face getting warmer through the wipe.  

“What I said earlier…” he starts, slowing down over your lips. “You look good in any makeup.”

He tosses the wipe in the nearby wastebasket and returns, placing his palms on either side of you on the counter and leaning towards you. His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes.

“Without it, too.”

He leans even closer, and once again, your faces are inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, the warmth of his breath. He seems to only be getting closer and closer so you let your eyes drift shut, leaning forward like its second nature, and then–

You feel something fuzzy slip over your head. You open your eyes. Around your neck is a fluffy pink headband with two red plush hearts on it like animal ears. He pushes it up, onto your head, tucking stray hairs behind his ear.

He puts on one of his own–just like yours but with inverted colors–and reaches behind you again.

“Should we do aloe?” he asks, re-emerging with two kinds of sheet masks: one green, and the other pink. “Or rose?”

You take a second to process what just happened. “Um… rose…”

He smiles. “Good choice.”

He rips the top of one of the packages and places it delicately on your face. Then, he does the same for himself, moving away from you to use the mirror.

You watch him beside you. Even through the glistening pink mask, you're desperate to find his eyes. As the two of you wait for the serums to settle into your skin, you don’t realize how hard you’re staring.

“Do I look funny?” he jokes when he catches your gaze.

For a second you take your mind off your pounding heart to laugh. “Y-yeah, a little.”

He chuckles, finding his way back between your legs. After discarding his mask, he slowly peels off yours, inch by inch, as if he’s received a present so precious he wants to cherish its unwrapping.

When he finally sees your face, bare in its truest form, he does all that he can to commit the image to memory. It’s funny, this is probably the part of you that he saw the most–whether it be in recording studios or dance rehearsals or songwriting sessions, you never had so much as a dab of powder on your nose. But somehow, you feel like he’s seeing you for the very first time, and he’s savoring it like it’s the last.

You feel yourself heating up again, so you try to break the silence. “Do… I look funny?” you ask, eyes darting back and forth between his.

He shakes his head with the lightest of laughs.

“You look beautiful.”

🍼 You knew Baby was awake--you could hear him tapping away intensely on his gaming keyboard from your room as you changed into your cami and shorts. He seemed very engrossed in whatever he was playing, shouting heated insults into the mic of his headset as you passed by his room. So, as you were standing in front of the fridge trying to enjoy the cold air wafting over you, it scared you half to death when you felt your tank top strap snap against your back.

You shriek and whip around.

“Hey,” he says casually, hooking the strap under his finger again and letting it smack your collarbone. “What’s up?”

“‘Hey’ yourself,” you mutter, rubbing the spot. “I'm up because someone can't keep it down when he's playing ranked.”

You turn back around to the fridge with a huff, but you notice that the last can of Saja Soda Pop™ is gone. “Hey! How did you–”

“Quick hands.”

You crane your neck to glare at him, but your eyes instinctively drop downwards at the sight of skin. He’s using the hem of his T-Shirt to clean off the top of the can, revealing his lower abdomen. Through his open zip up and beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, you can see the brand name of his boxers.

Trying to ignore the sight, you force your eyes back to his face and lunge towards him, but he’s two steps ahead, and about half a foot above you. He looks down at you with a smug expression as he holds it up, out of your reach. You get on your tippy toes and reach towards it, your chest beginning to press on his.

“Ugh!” You retreat and cross your arms, giving up with a pout. He cracks it open and throws it back without shame. One hand gives you the finger, and in the other, you see his stupid face plastered on the bright pink can: “Baby's Blue Raspberry”.

“Whatever… “ you mumble, attempting not to focus on the way his Adam's apple bobs with every gulp. “Romance's flavor is better anyway. ‘Lychee Love Potion’ outdoes yours by a longshot.”

He finishes drinking with a swallow and a deep exhale, his expression growing uncharacteristically serious. He looks you dead in the eye, unamused, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He keeps that eye contact as, without a word, he holds the can to your lips.

Before you can protest, he tilts it, forcing you to drink as you stare up at him, wide eyed. When the can empties, he pulls it back and uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips.

He leaves you dumbfounded as he goes to toss the can in the recycling.

As he makes his way back, you're finally about to stutter something out–until you're interrupted by his scent suddenly overwhelming you.

“Don't dress like this around the house,” he instructs, draping his hoodie around your shoulders. “‘Specially not around Romance.”

Your jaw hangs open as he then takes his phone out of his pant pocket and begins heading out of the kitchen. You watch his back in awe as he types away on it, acting as if nothing happened.

He's already halfway up the stairs by the time you shake yourself out of it and call after him.

“It's hot out, you know…” you protest weakly, contradicting the way you're pulling the hoodie around yourself. You try to put some bite into your voice. “I'm gonna, like, die of a heat stroke and it'll be all your fault.”

He looks down at you again from above the stair railing, wearing that stupid smug face again.

“There's a fan in my room,” he states matter-of-factly, resuming his walk up the stairs.

“When you come return my hoodie,” he starts, “you can wear whatever you want in there.”

❓ Mystery’s always had a strong nose. His sight is constantly dampened by his signature hairstyle, and as a result, his other senses have become strengthened. So, the chemical scent was particularly unpleasant to him--enough so to get out of bed to investigate.

Following the harsh odor through the hallway, he found himself in front of your bedroom door. The main light wasn’t on, but enough of a glow seeped through the cracks of the closed door to indicate you were awake; a lamp, maybe. Wanting to confirm this theory, he raised his knuckle just under the pastel sticky note with your charming handwriting and followed its instructions: “Please knock! - Y/N”

He stepped back, anticipating a greeting. But, even after a few minutes, the only response that would break the silence was the occasional clink of glass from behind the door. 

Now, he knew it was rude to come in. Especially at this hour, when you certainly weren’t expecting anyone, he considered. He also considered that you might not be decent. But, his curiosity got the best of him, and he figured he did technically follow the instructions the note had given him. So, he reached for the door handle.

He was met with the sight of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on your desk chair in an off-the-shouldee T-Shirt and shorts, elbows planted on the table, hands tasked with something he couldn't quite make out; the only lighting was a desk lamp–his theory was correct. What he could make out, though, was the thumping of the bass from your headphones. You hadn't noticed him yet, so he approached you, watching closely over your shoulder.

Your hands were trembling, your dominant one shaking a nail polish brush over the thumb of the other. You had your tongue peeking out and one eye shut, trying your hardest to guide the bristles above your cuticle.

Mystery took a small step back. So, that’s what it was. His one late night curiosity had been solved, and he should’ve been satisfied enough to go back to bed. But, in its place formed another: how long would it take you to notice him?

It looked like you had managed to make a shoddy swipe over your nail bed, which allowed you to start breathing again. Taking that as his window to approach you, he took a slow and quiet step forward. It was only when you went to dip the brush back into the bottle that you caught him out of the corner of your eye. 

Well, it didn't register as him at first. It seems late night delirium, dim lighting, and Mystery’s hairstyle are not a good combination.

“Ah!” 

You knock over the polish bottle as you flinch.

“Shit…” you mutter, frantically setting it right back up. You let out a sigh of relief--you caught it before it was able to spill. 

After returning the brush to the bottle, you move to take your headphones off, but--out of consideration for your wet nails--it isn't easy to do with just your palms. You struggle, the plastic slipping against your sweat, until you feel another set of hands cover yours. They're warm and careful as they move your hands out of the way, and still equally as gentle when they remove your headphones and place them on the desk.

You bit your lip as he stepped away to pick up an ottoman from the opposite corner of the room and set it beside you. The seat is much shorter than yours, but given his usually impressive height, it only lowers him to eye-level with you. Perfectly aligned with the light emanating from your desk lamp, he is no longer whatever apparition or monster you were imagining before; his features are softer than ever as you’re now able to see his smile more closely than ever before.

He also takes advantage of this vicinity. Whatever hairs were messed up by your headphones he strokes back into place. Tucking the strays behind your ear, he reaches over you and grabs a hair clip from the flower-shaped dish on your desk. He takes the bow he picked out in both hands and tilts it back and forth in the light. Smiling in satisfaction, he has to control his excitement as he pins your bangs back.

All you can do is stare at him in awe, your lips parted.

“Mystery…” you whisper.

He waves back at you, as if to say, “That's me.”

“Why are you here? Did I wake you?” you ask worriedly.

He points to the nail polish, and then to his nose.

“Oh… I'm sorry…” You trail off sheepishly. You reach to scratch the back of your neck out of nervousness but quickly retract your hand, remembering the state it's in.

He just shakes his head with a smile. “It's okay.”

He holds his hand out to you. You blink at him in confusion.

“Give me your hand,” he says, softly but aloud nonetheless.

“O-oh,” you stutter, hesitantly doing as he says.

Just like with the bow, he tilts your hand back and forth and smiles to himself. The color you had chosen was a translucent pink; as the bottle advertised, “Your nails but better!™”

Wearing nail polish was nothing out of the ordinary for all of you--so much so that the marketing team had released your own line of “Saja Sparkling Nail Lacquer™” for the “Lovely lion claws™” of “the Pride™” . Right now, in fact, Mystery had on his very own shade of magenta, courtesy of the cosmetics team's nail tech.

He'd seen much more elaborate designs--and much neater designs--done on his own fingertips. So, on paper, he shouldn't be impressed by the shaky brushstrokes of a simple clear pink. But on your hand--on the soft hand he was holding and never wanted to let go–there was something endearing. It wasn't something you’d get at a salon--it was more like the result of a girl's sleepover or hours at a vanity before a date. That image in his mind alone meant more to him than all the years that lady had spent at beauty school.

Though he himself had no such certifications either, he reached for the cap of the nail polish bottle. Bringing your hand closer to him, he began to sweep the brush over each nail.

You watched in awe as, with all ten fingers, he dipped the brush in the liquid and smoothed it over your fingers meticulously, holding your hand close to his face. With every replenishing of the brush, he would back up a bit, but when he resumed painting, you could feel his breath on your knuckles.

You feel it even harder after he finishes, blowing gently on your nails. It probably isn’t doing much to dry them given how hot and humid it’s been lately, but, contrary to the cool air he lets out, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn.

With a third, final exhalation, he retracts his hold. Without realizing it, you leave your hand hanging in the air, right where he’d left it. Your body seemed to know what your mind didn’t have the courage to say: you weren’t ready for him to go yet.

But then, just as quick as his touch had left, it returned as he slid his palm under yours and pushed it so your hands were upright, like a high-five. He couldn’t help but breathe out of his nose a brief chuckle at how your fingertips came up a full joint shorter than his.

You hoped he couldn’t feel the way you were trembling right now–prayed that he wasn’t grossed out by how clammy your hands were getting. But he didn’t seem to care, and you didn’t have any thoughts left to think, when, slowly, he curled his fingers until his hand engulfed yours.

You bit your lip. You could feel his pulse under your touch, calm and steady, and you were sure he could feel yours thumping at twice the pace. But, despite your nervousness, you let yourself copy him, slowly lowering your fingertips until they slotted perfectly in between his knuckles.

On the back of your hand, you saw his beautiful pianist-like fingers resting. His flawless manicure wasn’t even a millimeter overgrown–filed unfathomably symmetrical, cuticles pushed back out of sight, and surface perfectly glossy, the light reflecting without obstruction. Meanwhile, on the back of his hand, he saw that, even with his and your best efforts, there were stray splotches of pigment here and there on your skin. In some places–where the light hit your nail beds wrong–there were unblended brushstrokes.

There was no competition. It was clear which one he preferred.

He squeezed your hand playfully. “Do mine next time.”

✨ “Jinu… Jinu, wake up. You shouldn’t fall asleep on the couch, you old man.”

With his arm over the back of the couch and his knees spread open, he continued to snore–a sound so loud it rendered the TV in front of him inaudible. You sigh, wondering how Derpy and Susie were able to stay snuggled up against him on that throw pillow. Really, with the drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth, it was comical how un-Saja-like this was–save for the lion’s roar that escaped him with every exhale.

You shake his shoulder. “C’mon, Jinu. I don’t want to hear about your back problems in the morning.”

“Hrrrgghh, shhhh… Mmm… Huh… Huh…?”

You watch as he goes from snoring to murmuring to mumbling and then… shrieking.

“Ahh! Intruder! Intruder! Derpy, there’s an intruder!”

Desperately, he yanks on the poor tiger’s blue fur. Derpy wakes up, but doesn’t share the same urgency. He recognizes your scent, so he opens his glowing eyes halfway only to side-glare at Jinu before drifting back to sleep.

“Y/N…?” he finally realizes.

You don’t respond. You just sigh and cross your arms. Unintentionally, you push your breasts up a bit as you do. You don’t notice but, as he continues to register what he’s looking at, he definitely does.

“Wh… what are you wearing…” he trails off.

Quickly, he darts his eyes somewhere else–anywhere else. Your satin button up and shorts set isn’t really by any means indecent, but he feels his cheeks get hotter with guilt for every second he stares. He turns his face away, but let's face it–at any angle, he’s red as an apple. 

“What? Four hundred years and you haven’t seen a PJ set?” you retort. 

You put your hands on your hips and weight on one leg, striking a sassy pose. “You might be, like, a gajillion years old, but you’re not my dad. I’ll wear what I like, especially when it’s hot.”

“R-right,” he agrees, not realizing you were referring to the weather.

“What are you watching, anyway?” you ask, turning around to the screen. “Oh, wait! I know this show. This is a good episode…”

You start going on about characters… or something–he feels bad for not listening, he really does, but he can’t help it. He hasn’t the slightest clue of what you’re talking about; he fell asleep in the first ten minutes of watching. It’s an easy fix; if he really wanted to, he could look at the screen and find enough context clues to put together a response. But then, he’d have to take his eyes off the real show in front of him.

The dim glow of the TV lights you up from behind like you’re an angel greeting him at the gates of heaven–something he thought he’d never see. He follows the glow around the edge of your silhouette, slowing down from the hem of your shorts to your waistband. He’s really not trying to make it pervy, he swears, but he still burns with shame–though, the feeling is somehow different than the sharp purple patterns Gwi-Ma sends through him; it has quite the pleasant side to it.

When his eyes reach the back of your head, he decides that’s the most respectful place he can rest them. It’s not any less of a sight than the rest of you–your hair has grown out a bit ever since your DIY pixie cut, enough so for you to tie the teeniest little ponytail to try and beat the heat. As it sprouts from the colorful little scrunchie, it reminds him of a pointed paintbrush. But in this form, he thinks, you should be a framed painting.

He’s snapped out of his trance when he feels the weight of the couch shift; Derpy crawls off the couch with Susie on his back, meowing a farewell.

“Get a room,” he seems to say.

Frantically, before you’re able to turn around, Jinu grabs the cushion they were on and holds it over his lap.

“Good night, Derpy. Good night, Susie,” you say with a wave. You turn back to the couch, making eye contact with Jinu.

“Sorry. I’m blocking your view, huh?” You apologize nervously, your eyes taking refuge on the empty spot Derpy left. You plop down next to Jinu, his arm still around the back of the couch behind you. But while you keep your eyes on the screen, he keeps his eyes on you.

“Wow… what a beautiful dress,” you comment, pointing at the wedding scene before you. “I wish I could wear something like that…

“Me too,” Jinu whispers, watching the way your eyes light up when you see it, lined by lashes he never realized were so long.

He flinches backwards a bit when you turn to him with a smirk. “I don’t think they make those in your size,” you joke. “Not if you’re eating enough for you and Derpy and Susie,” you say, gesturing to the empty family-sized bag of Saja’s Mild Spicy Shrimp Chips™.

“Th-that’s not what I–” he stutters, hoping you didn’t catch onto his stare. “Ugh, just shut up and watch.”

He feels you vibrate through your touching knees and shoulders as you laugh. “Okay, okay,” you surrender.

The both of you return your gazes to the screen. Jinu has to employ every muscle and nerve in his body to keep his head facing straight ahead and his mind on the plot. But a few minutes later, just as he thinks he’s able to squeeze out that last thought of the flowy satin draping over you, his aforementioned nerves detect an unexpected weight and warmth on his shoulder.

He looks down and finds your cheek smushed up against his shoulder; his ears–their tips now pink–pick up the most hushed of snores drifting from your plush lips. He thanks the stars above that your eyes are shut–putting your soft lashes on full display now–because now you can’t see how he’s blushing even harder than before.

He instinctively lifts the arm resting behind you, but just before it reaches your shoulder to shake you awake, he stops it above your head. It’s as if his muscles have a mind of their own–he tells himself–as his hand slowly lowers to your hair and begins to stroke it gently.

He immediately tenses up when he feels you stir, freaking out briefly until you snuggle closer to his chest. He lets out a deep breath of relief, but takes in a few more; he needs to slow down his pounding heartbeat right now, or else you might wake up, he worries.

When it’s as steady as he can get it, he lets his lungs go on autopilot. But, even so, he’s suddenly very aware of his body. He knows he’s not a lion, and he knows he’s not a tiger or bird. But, tonight, he doesn’t feel like a demon. Somehow, he feels strangely human. And he’s suddenly aware that he’s a man, and you’re a woman. And you are much smaller than him.

He takes his hand off of your head for a moment to pull slightly at the back collar of your shirt. Before the satin slips between his fingers, he’s able to catch the size on the label.

He’s an old man, as you like to tease him, so he’ll probably forget by the time he wakes up. But still, he leans his head on you and lets his eyes drift shut without a worry.

He’ll remember, he promises–and he hopes you can somehow hear that promise telepathically when his head meets yours.

He’ll remember when he buys you that dress.

***

erm idk how to feel cuz i kinda like what i wrote but i also somehow feel like i didnt go in the right direction in terms of whats expected from the prompt?? idk also sorry jinu's and baby's aren't the most developed i just wanted to get this out cuz it was taking so longggg

jinu is my fav but i struggle to write him :(

but anyways im so excited this was my first req ever so ty ty ty anon i luv u guys im gonna try to work on the other req i have asap but plz b patient w me :') dont b afraid to send in more req tho tee hee

masterlist

tags (open ^o^): @hornehlittleweeblet2 @foxta1l @prettylittlelavvy @ch1cky-093 @thoughtsfrom1985 @feelya @doodle-with-rhy @fries11 @katzline @iivantablackii

[formulafanfics13]

She's the Only One Who Gets Him - MV1

Masterlist

Everyone always assumed Max Verstappen didn't give a fuck. About manners. About people. About press. About anything outside of lap times and championship points.

He snapped at engineers. He rolled his eyes during meetings. He barely looked up from his phone in hospitality unless someone said something directly to him — and even then, you had to be lucky. He hated unnecessary conversations, small talk, PR events, waiting around, and especially being told what to do.

So it was deeply confusing to every single person in the paddock when he showed up to the garage on Saturday morning holding your hand.

Because you looked like shit. Pale. Wrapped in a hoodie three sizes too big. Sniffling. Hood up. Eyes puffy from barely sleeping. The kind of mess you normally wouldn't dare show in a paddock full of cameras and chaos.

But Max didn't care. In fact, Max didn't let go of you for even a second. He brought you into the Red Bull motorhome with a grip on your waist and his free hand full of tissues and a water bottle. He kissed your forehead in front of two mechanics and did not flinch when they double-taked.

"Are you okay?" one of them asked cautiously, like maybe Max had been body-snatched.

"She's sick," Max said. "No one touches her. No one bothers her. No media. I'll kill you."

"...Right. Got it."

You laughed weakly into his chest. Max looked down at you and his entire face softened. Like night and day. His thumb came up to wipe under your nose without a second thought. It was unsettling. Everyone was staring. He didn't care.

When Christian walked past and did a double take at the sight of you curled up on the couch in Max's driver's room, blanket over your legs, Max crouched in front of you helping open a packet of paracetamol, he blinked like he'd walked into the wrong fucking dimension. "Max?" he said slowly. "Everything alright?"

"She has a fever," Max said, not even turning around. "Don't let the cameras in here."

Christian blinked. "Right. Sure."

Max popped the pills into your hand and held the water for you like he didn't trust you to lift it yourself. You drank. He brushed your hair back. Kissed the top of your head. Sat next to you and pulled your legs over his lap, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and muttering something in Dutch under his breath. "You don't have to baby me," you mumbled.

"Ja, I do," he said without hesitation. "You're my baby."

You groaned into his hoodie. "Shut up," you muttered.

"You shut up," he said, pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders.

It got worse from there. At least, for the people watching.

During FP3, when you insisted you could sit in the garage chair for a little while, Max walked you there himself. Carried your tea. Moved the headset off the hook and adjusted it onto your ears with both hands like you were a goddamn glass sculpture.

When the cameras pointed at him, he shielded your face with his shoulder. When Lando walked over to ask if you were alright, Max stepped in front of you. "She's fine," he said, calm but firm. "Don't make her talk."

Lando's eyebrows practically flew off his face. "Okay, Jesus."

"She needs rest," Max added. "Not your voice."

Lando gave you a little wave and disappeared. Max sat beside you, arms crossed, murder in his eyes for anyone who came near.

Pierre passed by ten minutes later and nearly tripped over himself doing a double take. "Bro," he muttered to no one. "Who is that? And what did she do to him?"

Someone in the media pen whispered, "I thought he didn't have a girlfriend?"

Max wiped your nose again mid-whisper. He didn't even blink when a team photographer caught it on camera. By midday, it was full paddock knowledge:

"Max Verstappen is in love." "And apparently he turns into a functioning human being when she's around." "No but like... he smiled. He kissed her nose." "She was wearing his socks. They were falling off her feet and he fixed them for her." "This is not the Max I know. Who is she??"

You were still curled up in the motorhome when Lewis popped his head into the door. "Max?" he said, blinking. "You in here?"

Max looked up from where he was running a hand down your calf, legs tangled on the little leather couch.

Lewis saw you and paused. "...Oh," he said. "Sorry. I didn't know you were-"

"She's sick," Max said. "You can come in if you're quiet."

You peeked out from the blanket. "Hi, Lewis."

"Hi, love," Lewis said, stunned. "You okay?"

"She has a fever," Max repeated. "But she's getting better."

Lewis blinked again. Then slowly smiled. "You're taking good care of her."

Max shrugged like it was obvious. "She takes care of me."

Lewis's entire brain short-circuited. After that, the grid was never the same.

Because once you've seen Max Verstappen spoon-feeding his feverish girlfriend soup in the Red Bull motorhome, patting her knee and whispering, "Almost done, baby, then you can sleep," into her hair, the image does not leave you. And once you've seen him fall asleep with his arms around her, forehead pressed to hers, heat pack resting on her stomach, you can't pretend he's just an unfeeling bastard anymore.

He still yelled on the radio. He still snapped at journalists. He still hated being told to smile.

But when you were around? He opened her doors. Carried her bags. Tied her shoes. Kissed her forehead like it was instinct. And god help you if you ever made her cry.

Because Max Verstappen might not be soft to anyone else. But for you? He always was. And everyone in the paddock knew it now.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ bring your baby downtown (go cheerleader!) ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anonymous ˚₊ ⊹

ft. rumi (+ jinu) x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ fans think you and jinu are together, and rumi is not happy about it┊1.6k words

contains: jealousy, crazy fans, hard-launching a relationship

➤ author's note: ahhh i feel like i could have executed this better and also it's a little off prompt so sorry T-T (happy last day of pride month homophobia doesn’t exist here)

“i just don’t get why fans are shipping them!” rumi shouted in frustration as she delivered a strong kick to the face of the demon. “they sit next to each other at one event to follow the seating chart, and all of a sudden, they’re the next kpop ‘it’ couple— what’s the logic behind that?!”

“okay, but are fans really shipping them together, or did you just see someone on twitter say they would look cute together? there’s a difference.”

“no, like people are really shipping them together! they have an official ship name and everything— there’s like a thousand edits of them to love songs on tiktok and like… a couple dozen fics of them on ao3…”

“god damn it!”

perhaps having this discussion while fighting underworld creatures wasn’t the best idea, being both the wrong time and place, but the vocalist needed to get this off her chest once she found out about it. it was so preposterous and wrong in her mind that she had to do a triple take before it really sunk in what she was reading. 

it’s been exactly one week since that day when you met the black-haired leader of the saja boys at an event, only interacting because you both were following the seating charts and happened to be placed next to each other. there was nothing special or different about it compared to when you’re talking to other celebrities, yet in some way that she couldn’t even fathom, people started thinking that both of you would make the cutest pairing. 

she was at the event as well, but couldn’t quite see what the two of you were up to from a distance aside from being friendly. when the footage came out in a better quality than her eyesight, she rewatched the footage over and over again, watching like a hawk at all the little microexpressions and doing her best to read your lips to figure out where this assumed chemistry originated from, but she came to the conclusion that it just doesn’t exist and that the fans were being straight up delusional.

that man has been the bane of her existence in every way possible ever since he entered her life. first he tries to steal her fans with his industry plant boy group, then he tries to blackmail her with her biggest secret, and now he’s trying to steal away her girlfriend! she brings up the topic incessantly every time they have their secret meetings, and no matter what he swears or how often he plays innocent, she doesn’t believe for a second that he doesn’t also have feelings for you. it’s all in the little things, how he stutters and blushes red at the mention of you and how fans thought you two were the cutest— god, she hates him!

“you do realize that people think you’re jealous of her and not him, right? they noticed you staring at them the entire time the awards were being given out and think you’re all in some sort of love triangle.”

“why would they even think that? i don’t even like jinu on a base level! he’s a demon who’s clearly trying to take advantage of our unsuspecting fans— how do people think that i’m into him instead of her?! i thought it was obvious i liked girls— my instagram profile picture literally shows me wearing eyeliner in the colors of the bi flag!”

“either way, you can’t really change what the fans think. don’t let it get to you too much, she would never pick him over you.”

mira was right. you can’t be stolen away when you didn’t have an ounce of romantic interest in him and had your heart set on her, but she still can’t help but fume like a steaming kettle every time she goes on her phone to find her entire ‘for you’ page covered photos (both real and edited) of that stupid demon next to her girlfriend with hearts in the captions. 

the worst part is that you didn’t have the foggiest idea what was going on. as one of the most well-known soloists in the hemisphere, you preferred to stay away from social media and possible hate comments or crazy fans that would impact your mental health. your management took care of your social media and promotions as well as informing you about public perception, so you were fortunate enough to be able to focus on yourself, your songwriting, practicing choreography, and spending time with rumi. 

rumi, who has been acting a little strange over the past few days. she thought you wouldn’t have noticed because you were busy with the debut of a new single, but you certainly did and was confused about her sudden change in behavior. she’s more clingy and possessive, yet refuses to admit that there was something bothering her. mira and zoey also wouldn’t tell you anything, but judging by their hesitance, you suspected that she had told them not to say anything either.

with the lack of mutual friends who knew about your very private relationship, you somehow ended up meeting with jinu for coffee. you aren’t exactly sure if she let it slip to him or if he managed to figure it out on his own, but either way, he knew about it and offered an outsider's perspective on what you could do about the situation. 

little did you know, even though you both were wearing sunglasses and hoodies, there was someone who recognized you and snapped a candid photo of you two entering the cafe together. it’s only a casual outing between friends without a hint of anything romantic to get advice for your actual relationship, people took the picture and ran with it, coming up with their outlandish speculations of it being a date and believing that your latest song about finding true love was dedicated to him. 

that was the final straw for rumi, and she soon hatched a plan on how to hard-launch your relationship in a way that left no room for interpretation. there wasn’t going to be any ‘close friends’ or ‘sisters’ theories with this, they were going to know. normally, she prefers to keep these things private, but she refused to have fans misled about who you were really linked to.

“are you sure this is a good idea? it’s gonna put everyone in a frenzy.”

“right? like this is gonna be in the history books!”

“i’m sure, it’s gonna be perfect.”

this plan was bold and possibly a bit irrational, but she knew it would work out perfectly in the end. it didn’t take too long to think of, all it needed was a single action and a ton of confidence, and the perfect setting to execute it was at one of the up-and-coming annual award ceremonies for the best musicians in the nation where you were going to be announcing the winners and nominees.

she was more nervous about this secret plan than anything, evident in how she was constantly fiddling with the hem of her dress and how her posture wasn’t as completely straight as it usually was. it made the usual jitters from all the flashing cameras and mini-interviews by photographers seem like child’s play, so she was very grateful towards mira and zoey for letting her lean on them. 

out of the corner of her eye, she could see you socializing with the others in a gorgeous satin midi dress, being absolutely dazzling with that smile of yours that attracted everyone to you like bees to honey. everyone including those damn saja boys, particularly jinu who had all the cameras flashing blindingly whenever he got too close to you. the sight made her bite the inside of her cheek and pout, but she wouldn’t let it bother her even though the thought of it was pissing her off during the entire duration of the event. she’s going to keep her cool this time, and no one would be able to study her reactions and make assumptions about what she was thinking when the live recording is eventually uploaded. 

“and this year’s winner for ‘artist of the year’ goes to…” you paused dramatically for special effect, opening the golden envelope to peek inside. there wasn’t a doubt in your mind who it would be, and you couldn’t help the feeling of pride that bloomed in your heart, “rumi, zoey, and mira of huntrix!”

the crowd let out a round of applause as the trio joined you on the stage, zoey doing a little skip and dance to she received the award before doing their touching minute-long speech of a lot of thanks and gratitude to their fans and those who have helped them along the way.

as rumi stepped away from the center, she took a deep breath, and instead of stepping off like she was supposed to, she pulled you in for a kiss on the lips before drawing in close to use the microphone attached to your headset, “she’s my girlfriend, by the way!” 

a simple statement and a kiss, nothing too passionate, just something small and tender, but the entire audience gasped in surprise before erupting in chaos (the good kind of chaos, the one with cheering and people screaming various things in support). 

you were clearly confused and laughed, “of course, i am, who else’s girlfriend would i be?”

“you’re so chronically offline, i’ll tell you about it later.”

the news was like wildfire for the next few days while you both stayed away from the public eye to let it die down. most fans had jumped off the ship of you and jinu and were happily boarding the one of you and rumi, letting it sail at full speed and pouring in all of their support of your newly revealed relationship as you both quickly took the crown as kpop’s newest ‘it’ couple.

request:

May I PUHLEASE request a Jealous!Rumi x Fem!Soloist!Reader? The reader is a well-known soloist who somehow was being shipped with Jinu despite having absolutely no interaction with him at all. And of course, Rumi starts acting up, showing subtle hostility towards Jinu for another reason other than because he's a demon who clearly means harm upon their beloved fans. Mira and Zoey, along with their many fans starts to think that it was because she was jealous of the reader. But what they don't know is behind those empty stares lies hidden affection which they only lay bare when they're alone. They've been in a secret relationship for a few years now, and they've hidden it well. But after the rumors that started about the reader and Jinu where they were supposedly seen having a romantic date, and another rumor that stated that the reader's latest song was dedicated to Jinu, Rumi finally decided to take matters into her own hands. So during an awarding where idols were to gather on stage, after receiving their award, Rumi immediately marches up to the reader, and in front of everyone, she pulls her into a searing kiss then walks away like she hadn't just staked her claim and smudged the reader's perfectly applied lipstick. It ends with the reader jokingly and shyly apologizing with: "Forgive my girlfriend's behavior. It's her way of throwing a tantrum." (I apologize if this too damn long, I wanted it to be detailed for you🥲)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [13] - Barbecue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷

Friendly reminder that I will be on vacation in July, so I won't have access to my laptop🩷 We will have the next chapter around August 1-2 but my headcanons and asks and everything else is open as usual! 🩷 So please let me know what you think, and I hope you like this chapter! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Anything can happen at a barbecue.

Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, MDNI.

Word Count: 6.6k

Series Masterlist

A short white sundress wasn’t exactly professional but then again, everyone else in the team was going to show up in casual clothes anyway.

Even you had to admit, this was a good PR move. Having a barbecue party at his place surrounded by his team and his family –Wilsons— not only sounded fun but also would show the rest of the world that he wasn’t affected by his breakup, and business was as usual.

So technically, the sundress was purely because of PR reasons and not because you wanted him to think you were pretty.

 Technically being the key word.

You fixed your hair and your dress as much as you could with one hand while holding a stack of files and a box of cookies in the other, then knocked on his door and stepped back. Excitement was rushing through your system already, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, then looked up as the door opened.

“So I know I came a little early and brought work but the alternative was for me to work in the middle of the barbecue which is like not ideal in terms of PR, so I also brought cookies.”

Bucky looked frozen as he eyed you up and down, his mouth slightly open and you tilted your head in confusion.

“Bucky?”

His eyes whipped to yours and he shook his head as if trying to snap out of the daze he was in, then immediately got the files and the box of cookies from your hands.

“Hey,” he said. “Uh—come in!”

You stepped inside and smiled at Alpine who had run to the hallway to see what was happening.

“Hello my pretty princess!” you cooed, crouching down so that you could pet her. She purred, bumping her head against your hand before she closed her eyes while you ran your fingers through her soft fur.

“I still cannot believe she lets you pet her.”

“She likes me,” you said. “Don’t you Alpine?”

Her answer was rubbing her face against your hand and you scratched at her head, then stood up again to look around. This was bigger than his earlier place which you figured was normal for a Congressman, but it still had Bucky’s characteristics scattered around. His old pictures with The Howling Commandos as well as with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were framed on the walls, and as you passed by the living room, you could see his records and phonogram at the corner. You followed him to the kitchen, eyeing his muscular body hungrily, biting at your lip.

How did this man look good both in a suit and casual clothes?

“So.” He pulled you out of your daze as he placed the files and cookies on the kitchen island. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I mean.” You plopped down the stool. “It’s not like I baked them. I don’t want to poison you or the rest of the team.”

He let out a chuckle. “Really?”

“I don’t know how to bake,” you said. “And also I needed bribery so that you’d take a look at the files I brought.”

He eyed them wearily. “That’s a lot of pages.”

“But hey, the cookies are delicious.” You opened the box to turn it in his direction, wiggling your brows. “Try one.”

He heaved a sigh and grabbed one, then bit into it and raised his brows.

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“I’m not sure I know this flavor.”

“Blueberry coffee.”

“Blueberry coffee?” he repeated and you grinned.

“Yeah well, I happen to know you don’t like it too sweet,” you said. “The guy at the register said this one is pretty good—I still refuse to believe you don’t like dessert.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said. “I just don’t like too much sugar.”

“I could eat dessert for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” You clasped your hands under your chin. “Did you always dislike it?”

“Well,” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. “I mean sugar was rationed, so I didn’t grow up with too much of it. We had it better than most folk but we still didn’t use much. And then the war and then HYDRA...It took me a while to get used to food when I got back, and desserts weren’t the priority.”

You pursed your lips, your heart clenching with compassion. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t be, I don’t mind.”

“You hate it when people ask you about your past though.”

He shook his head. “I don’t if you’re the one asking me.”

You could feel a smile warming your face, and you bit down on your lip.

“Well then, I’m making it my personal challenge to find desserts that you’ll like,” you said as he took another bite of the cookie. “And I’m warning you, I’m very ambitious.”

“Oh really?” he teased you, smiling back. “I haven’t noticed.”

“So I will succeed,” you said and reached out to grab the file at the top, then opened it. “Speaking of succeeding, I need you to take a look at these.”

He took a look at the multiple files, then turned to you.

“Coffee?”

“Oh my God, yes please.”

                                               *

The problem with you and Bucky working alone was that you got along way too well. When you were around other people you could work efficiently but when it you were alone, you got way too distracted.

Like you were right now.

“That’s not a valid answer!” he insisted and you gasped.

“It is!”

“It’s not, it goes against the game.”

“There’s only one logical answer to the 3 things you should take to a deserted island. Powerboat, satellite phone, water filter.”

“Nope.”

“The goal is to get the fuck out of the island!” you insisted, moving your hands to emphasize your point and he shook his head.

“That’s cheating.”

“Fine, what am I supposed to take with me, genius?”

“Knife to hunt for food so you don’t starve, water to not die of dehydration, blanket to not freeze to death at night.” He counted with his fingers. “The goal is survival.”

“I wouldn’t survive a day in nature,” you said. “Like, if I’m ever in the nature, I’ll just let it kill me.”

“That’s not…”

“Also,” you added. “What if the animal I need to kill is a cute deer? What am I gonna do, kill Bambi?”

“Again, you have to survive somehow.”

You gasped. “Not at the expense of Bambi!”

“Sorry about Bambi,” he deadpanned and you made a face.

“Like I said,” you muttered. “I’m not hunting, I’m getting the hell out of the island. You have fun playing Survivor there.”

“See you’re saying this now but if we were both on the island, you’d be eating Bambi.”

“Bucky!”

“I’d just lie to you about where it came from.”

Your jaw dropped and you pushed at his arm, making him let out a laugh.

 “Bambi is in a farm,” he said, trying to keep a straight face, “where she can run all she wants and be happy—”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll get on my powerboat and leave you behind,” you insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m just not built for survival, okay? I can barely survive seasonal change, you think I’ll survive a goddamn island? Nope.”

“I’d keep you alive,” he said nonchalantly, reaching out into the box to get another cookie while you turned your phone in your hand.

“Okay, my turn.” You sat up straighter. “We talked about this the other day with Kels and Caleb.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let’s say you woke up tomorrow,” you said. “And everything is perfect. What’s the first thing you’d want to see?”

He raised his brows, a small smile playing on his lips and you took a sip of your coffee.

“Nothing is off limits,” you said. “And no judging, because Caleb said he’d wake up to a bank account of seven figures and had to deal with Kelsey asking him ‘what about world peace you heartless ass?’ for like days whenever he opened his mouth.”

Bucky let out a chuckle, humming as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to tell you or not. You narrowed your eyes at him, resting your elbows on the kitchen island and leaning in.

“Come on,” you taunted him. “Say it.”

“In a perfect world?”

“Yeah,” you said. “You can be totally selfish. What do you wake up to?”

His blue eyes searched your face, his smile fading as he swallowed thickly, then took a deep breath.

“You,” he said. “Next to me.”

Your gaze snapped up to his, the gears in your mind screeching to a halt, your breath hitching in your throat. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, warmth rushing through your system so fast that it made you lightheaded while you tried your hardest to think through the haze.

Bucky liked you back.

…Oh God, he liked you back.

You could swear your whole body was shaking as you took a trembling breath in a desperate attempt to find your voice but before you could say anything, several voices carried out into the kitchen from the front door; Sam, Cass and AJ, and Sarah.

“Buck?”

“Uncle Bucky!”

“Boys, don’t run!”

Hurried footsteps approached and Bucky had to force himself to tear his gaze from yours, then turned to catch AJ and Cass who flung themselves to him mid-air.

“Whoa, did you guys get bigger since I last saw you?” he asked, making them giggle and you tried to pull yourself together, then waved at them.

“Hi guys.”

“Hi!”

“Oh hey there!” Sarah only hesitated for a moment by the doorframe before she went to kiss Bucky’s cheek, then turned to you. “It’s been so long, how have you been?”

“Good,” you managed to squeak out and then cleared your throat. “Great, and you?”

 “I left the door open because there are more people—” Sam paused when he saw you, his eyes going from you to Bucky and to you again. “Uh…more people coming. Hey.”

“Hi Sam, it’s great to see you.”

“Bucky, I already like your—no no no, Alpine, I come in peace!” Caleb’s voice reached the kitchen and Bucky put the boys down, then made his way to the hallway as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if you weren’t about to pass out in the middle of the kitchen in front of Sam and Sarah.

“And I thought we were here early,” Sam commented, earning a not-so-subtle jab to his ribs from Sarah and you licked your lips, then nodded your head.

“Yeah I…we—we were working.” You vaguely motioned at the files on the kitchen island, your hands still shaky, and you cleared your throat again. “Um—excuse me.”

You made your way out of the kitchen to the hallway and grabbed Kelsey’s arm while Bucky was distracted by the rest of the team asking him where to put the things they brought before you pulled her into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you.

“What’s going on?” she asked and you covered your mouth, jumping up and down with a squeal.

“Kels…”

“What?”

“He likes me.”

Kelsey pulled her brows together. “What?”

You let out a giggle and dropped your hands, your cheeks almost hurting with how wide you were smiling while you bounced on the balls of your feet, your heart still slamming against your chest.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “He…he likes me.”

“Oh my God!” Kelsey pulled you into a tight hug, then pulled back to look at you better. “He said it?”

“Well he—you know, I asked him that question we were talking about the other day, the perfect world one. And he said he’d wake up next to me.”

“Holy shit!” Kelsey whispered and grabbed at your hand. “See? I told you!”

“I can’t believe it,” you said and let out a teary laugh, then fanned at your face with your other hand. “I’m gonna cry I think—”

“Nope you’re not, because the team will start asking questions,” Kelsey said and you took a deep breath, sniffling. “Then?”

“Then Sarah and Sam showed up, and then you guys.”

Kelsey blinked a couple of times. “You guys didn’t even kiss yet?”

“I couldn’t even tell him I like him back yet!” you whispered. “And I—how am I gonna get him alone without the whole team noticing?”

“Yeah, that’s too dangerous right now,” Kelsey said, then shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll have to wait until we all leave.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s hours away!”

“You two waited this long, you can wait a couple of hours,” she said while you let out a whine.

“But I want to kiss him!”

“You will do all that and more, just get through this barbecue nonsense.”

You threw your head back, stomping on your foot like a spoiled kid and Kelsey let out a laugh.

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Want me to tell Caleb?”

“When you get home, yes,” you said. “I can’t risk anyone hearing it, and the place is full of people.”

“Yeah, good call.”

“And assuming I won’t explode until everyone leaves…”

Kelsey grinned. “To repeat. You could handle seven years of bad sex, you can handle like seven hours until mindblowing sex.”

Your head shot up.

“Wait wait wait,” you said, your heart doing an excited flip. “Do you think he wants to sleep with me? Like, tonight? Because I’m like so so ready but would he want to?”

“No Birdie, once we all leave you guys will hold hands and recite poetry. The fuck do you think?!”

You started fanning your face again.

“I mean I—obviously I really really really like him but also I—I want to jump on him,” you stammered. “Like, both emotional and physical.”

“Shocking,” Kelsey stated. “The sky is blue. Water is wet. You want to fuck Bucky.”

“I mean if he does want to talk about his feelings I can—”

“I don’t think any man would want to talk about his feelings when you’re in that dress and ready to jump in his bed,” Kelsey motioned at you and you beamed at her.

“Aw thank you! I got it from—”

“You can send me the link later,” she said. “We should go before they realize we’re hiding in the bathroom.”

You nodded your head while she opened the door to check the hallway, then stepped outside with you following her suit.

“Remember,” she said. “You’re not doing anything while we’re here. Too risky.”

You nodded again and fixed your hair, letting out a breath.

“Yeah,” you said as you walked with her to the kitchen. “Yeah, of course. Shouldn’t be that hard.”

                                            *

Correction.

It was, in fact, that hard.

You couldn’t focus on a goddamn thing.

You were pretty sure that Bucky had told Sam because they were having a discussion in whispers at the corner of the garden while everyone drank and ate, and the only thing that pulled them out of it was Caleb when he wanted to take pictures with the whole team and Wilsons. You had taken a step in Bucky’s direction for the picture but Kelsey had pulled you to the other side of the crowd, muttering something about PR.

And throughout all that, it was as if you were in a haze.

Bucky’s eyes barely left you the whole day, though he hadn’t come closer to you like he wanted to give you your space to think about it. It was laughable to think he was under the impression that you wouldn’t throw yourself at him after months of pining after him, but Bucky could be very oblivious sometimes so you figured it was normal.

And you were still burning under his gaze, no matter how much you tried to act normal.

“So yeah, apparently Bucky winning gave Paul a huge leverage, just like the rest of us,” Tim said while you stole a look at Bucky who was chuckling at something Caleb said and Sarah let out a laugh, then said something while motioning at Bucky, making Caleb’s jaw drop as Bucky shook his head fervently like he was trying to convince him. “He got like a six figure deal for Senator Holloway’s next campaign. Anyways, I can barely talk to you during work nowadays.”

“Yeah, I’m like swamped with work,” you said, barely paying attention to Tim. “It’s fun but also very busy.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, clearing his throat like he was trying to gather up courage while Bucky’s eyes found yours, awakening the butterflies in your stomach, a fire sweeping over your face. “Do you want to grab coffee sometime when you’re—”

“I’ll talk to you later, I just remembered an email I’m supposed to send Gray,” you said without so much as hearing what he was saying before you made your way back into the house so that you could calm down a little. You let out a breath and went into the kitchen to fill yourself a glass of water in hopes of helping the fire burning at the pit of your stomach. You took a huge gulp, then turned your head when you heard Cass saying your name from the doorframe.

“Hey,” you said with a small smile. “What’s up?”

“Um, can you help us with something?”

“Sure thing,” you said, following him to the living room and AJ gave you a shy smile, then pointed at the phonograph.

“Do you know if it works?”

“I think so.”

“Can we play it? I would ask uncle Bucky but he’s talking to mom and the other guests.”

“I don’t think Bucky would mind,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, then stepped closer to the phonograph. “Sure you can. Want me to help?”

“Yes please,” they both said, making you press a hand over your chest.

“You guys are like the sweetest kids in the world,” you said and sat down in front of the phonograph, tucked your legs under you, then pulled a couple of vinyl records from the shelf underneath it. “Do you have a favorite?”

AJ thought for a moment. “We don’t know any old singers.”

“That’s totally fine,” you said gently. “We can pick together then, and it’ll be a surprise to all of us. Exciting, isn’t it?”

They both nodded and sat down, and as if on cue, Alpine jumped from the couch to curl up next to you.

“Hi,” you said with a smile as you ran your fingers through her fur. “Alpine wants to listen to music too, I guess.”

Cass reached out to pet her while you put some of the records on the floor.

“Which one?” you asked them and they both turned their attention on the covers of the records with such serious expressions that one would think they were trying to decide on something incredibly important.

“Do you have a favorite?” Cass asked and you pretended to zip your mouth shut.

“I trust your judgment.”

They exchanged glances and Cass whispered something into AJ’s ear, making him frown before he nodded.

“Um,” he said and pointed at one of the records. “This one?”

“Whoa!” you said. “How did you guys know it’s my favorite?!”

Well, no.

Sinatra wasn’t your favorite, not by a long shot but they didn’t need to know that.

Their eyes shone with excitement and AJ grinned.

“Really?”

“Oh I’m like a huge fan of him,” you said. “Okay, let’s play him then. Who wants to do it?”

“We don’t know how to play it.”

“I’ll tell you. It’s very easy.”

Cass grabbed the record, then looked at you. “What if I break it or something?”

You shrugged your shoulders and dropped your voice like you were giving them a secret.

“I have the exact same record at home,” you whispered. “If you break it, I’ll replace it with mine, and Bucky won’t even notice.”

Cass giggled and pulled out the record out of the sleeve and you turned the phonograph on.

“Okay, you have to move the needle. AJ, can you do it?”

AJ nodded and moved the needle.

“And Cass, can you place the record over there?”

Cass did as you asked.

“And now, let’s put the needle here,” you muttered, reaching out to put the needle on the record, and the melody filled the room, making them gasp. The look of excitement on their faces was so sweet that you couldn’t help but laugh, then clasped your hands together.

“There you go!” you said. “Told you it was easy.”

“Um, how does it work?” AJ asked and you pointed at the record spinning on the player.

“So there are grooves on it,” you said. “On the vinyl. The needle follows—”

“Uncle Bucky!” Cass ran to the door and your heart skipped a beat, and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky leaning to the doorframe, watching you with a soft light in his eyes. You tried to pull yourself together and cleared your throat, then motioned at the phonograph.

“I’m teaching them how to use it.”

“We picked her favorite record!”

“They’re way too smart,” you told Bucky as if giving him a secret and Bucky chuckled.

“Oh yeah, they are.”

“And then?” AJ insisted. “How does it turn into music?”

“So yeah, the needle!” You turned to the phonograph. “Okay, the needle follows those grooves. You see those?”

“Mm hm.”

“So the needle follows those to make the sound, and there are magnets in the phonograph,” you said. “Those magnets turn it into soundwaves, and then—”

“Uncle Bucky, she looks like a princess,” You heard Cass’s very loud whisper and you bit back a smile.

“She really does, buddy.” Bucky whispered back, making your cheeks burn and AJ rolled his eyes.

“Don’t mind him,” he told you in exasperation like this was a daily occurrence and you repressed a laugh.

“And then those soundwaves follow here, and tada! Music.”

“Because of magnets?”

“Magnets and soundwaves, yeah.”

“Whoa,” AJ said and turned to Bucky. “But Uncle Bucky, you do know you can listen to music on your phone now?”

“He’s old,” you told AJ, shooting a grin at Bucky. “Give him time, he doesn’t know half of the artists we listen to nowadays.”

“I’ll show you my favorite, come on!” AJ ran to him to pull him by the hand. “You’ll love it!”

“Buddy, can you give me a minute?” he asked without pulling his gaze off you and you shook your head and stood up, making Alpine let out a noise of discontent.

“No, come on!” AJ insisted. “It’s really good music!”

“That sounds important,” you said, while Cass nodded fervently. “Go.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but ended up letting AJ pull him out of the living room to the garden, Cass running after them. You looked down at Alpine who was blinking up at you, then leaned down to scratch at her head.

“It’s fine,” you muttered while she purred. “Patience is a virtue and all that.”

                                            *

You could swear time had decided to move extra slow today.

But it had done nothing to soothe the excitement pulsing through your system, if anything it heightened it.

Thankfully, people were leaving. Everyone was in a good mood, and it was Saturday evening, so you could hear the plans they were trying to decide on as they walked from the garden to the kitchen. You pushed up the sleeves of zip up hoodie Bucky had given you earlier today when you got cold and sat down on the stool, trying to act like your heart wasn’t beating in your throat.

“Bucky, are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“Sam, you should join us!”

“I appreciate that Kelsey, but I am too old to go bar hopping with you guys.”

“That’s not even true! We only changed like four clubs the last time.”

“Exactly.”

“Miss Wilson?”

“Thank you Caleb, but what Sam said. And I gotta put the boys to bed.”

“Mom, can we go?”

“Nope.”

“Tim?”

“I’m down.”

“Lisa?”

“Oh for sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Birdie?”

 You lifted your eyes from the file in front of you.

“Bucky and I will work until late I think,” you said calmly, motioning at the rest of the files. “I’ll take an Uber. See you at home.”

You could see Bucky’s head snapping up like he wasn’t expecting you to stay, Sam and Sarah exchanging glances before they both smirked and Caleb frowned while Tim looked almost sad that you weren’t joining.

“Seriously?” Caleb asked. “It’s Saturday night.”

“And just because you don’t work doesn’t mean no one else can,” Kelsey said, grabbing him by the arm, and Caleb gasped.

“I have been working all day today, if you haven’t noticed—”

“See you guys!” Kelsey said as she dragged him out of the kitchen, Lisa, Tim, Sarah, Sam and the boys following them. Bucky walked them to the door, the chatter in the hallway continuing in full speed until the door opened, and then closed again.

Then, silence.

As silent as it could be with your heart pounding in your ears.

You slipped from the stool to lean your back against the kitchen island, trying to keep your breathing under control, squeezing the phone in your hand as you heard his footsteps coming closer until he appeared at the doorframe.

God, he was way too handsome.

You tried to swallow the nervousness tightening your throat as he took a step closer, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You didn’t leave.”

“Didn’t want to.”

His blue eyes searched your face as if he was trying to read your mind, making your heartbeat even faster.

“How long?” you managed to ask and he huffed out a curt laugh.

“For…” he trailed off. “Since I first saw you. Since you waltzed into the office with that huge folder and put it on my desk and said ‘Hi, you don’t know me yet but I figured out how to win this thing.”

A giggle bloomed in your mouth.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” you whispered, taking a step to him and he shook his head.

“You’ve been thinking about this just for a day, I’ve been thinking about this for a very…”

The rest of his sentence got lost somewhere as shock muffled your ears before realization crashed down on you.

…Oh.

Oh, Bucky actually thought—

He had no idea you stayed because you returned his feelings, he was under the impression that you stayed because you wanted him to explain. He actually thought today was the first time you thought about the possibility of you and him.

The idea was so absurd that you couldn’t help the exhale of disbelief leaving you.

“You think—” you cut him off. “Wait, Bucky…You—you think today is the first time I’ve thought about this?”

He looked like he didn’t know how to answer your question and a laugh climbed up your throat.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “And I thought I was very obvious.”

He frowned slightly as you licked your lips, your stomach still fluttering.

“Ask me what my answer was.”

“To what?”

“The perfect world question,” you said with whatever courage you could pull from somewhere within you. “I know your answer but you don’t know mine. Ask.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, his voice low; “What was your answer?”

You could swear you were shaking, but by some miracle, when you spoke, your voice didn’t crack.

“The same as yours.”

The look of hope that dawned on his handsome face was so foreign that it took you by surprise. You hadn’t even seen it the night he won the election; he was happy then but this was something else. He took a step to close the distance between you, his flesh hand lifting a little so that he could cup your cheek, making your breath catch in your throat. His gaze slipped to your lips, then back at your eyes as if he was asking for your permission and you looked up at him, breathless with anticipation before you nodded. You could almost hear the crackling in the air, something electric between you coming to life, getting more and more intense—

Until his lips found yours.

This was different.

From all the times Max kissed you, or all the times you kissed guys before Max, none of it had ever been like this.

This was pure, unadulterated desire.

You could feel yourself melting in his arms as you lost yourself in his kiss, your fingers curling in his shirt just so that you could have an anchor, but a small whine escaping you when he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, his breath caressing your lips. Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled down the zipper of the hoodie you were wearing over your sundress, his movements agonizingly slow like he was opening up a fragile present before he let it fall on the floor, desire making you dizzy. He dragged his fingertips down your arm, and gently pulled your phone out of your hand to put it aside just out of your reach, your head following the movement.

“Wait, I…” You tried to think through the haze. “I need that.”

“No.” Bucky’s voice was soft as he shook his head. “You don’t.”

You blinked up at him.

“What if—” you stammered, “what if while we’re not looking the world catches fire?”

A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he leaned in again. “Good. Let it burn.”

You were beginning to think no matter how close he was, it would never be enough with the way your body ached for him. He took your breath away when he kissed you again, his heart drumming under your hand, and he wrapped his arm around your waist to press your body closer to his, only pulling back to trail his thumb over your burning cheekbone.

“God…” he whispered in awe. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

The room was spinning.

You were on fire.

It had to be because of the fire that you didn’t even realize the words coming out of your mouth until you actually heard them:

“I love you.”

And everything went still.

Including him.

It was as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over you, your whole body stiffening the moment you realized what you had actually said. Your eyes snapped open, your breath catching in your throat as tears of frustration rushed to your eyes, and Bucky pulled back to see you better, a look of surprise etched on his handsome face.

Of course you had to ruin it.

“Sorry, I—sorry, I’m just—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you rushed past him to get to the hallway, leaving him in the kitchen completely frozen.

You were an idiot.

You just had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.

You couldn’t even blame Bucky or anyone else. Hazel had a point, you were the starry-eyed idiot with a schoolgirl crush who couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut just because he had kissed you.

You all but ran down the hallway to get to the front door but the minute you pulled it to yourself, you felt his presence behind you before he slammed the door close with enough force to shake it in its hinges, making you gasp in surprise.

This must’ve been how he was on missions.

No one heard him coming until it was too late.

If this were someone else—anyone else, you would’ve been petrified but even now, through the frustration and shock, your mind somehow knew that Bucky would rather cut off his own hand than hurt you. No part of him touched you, and for a moment he just stood there behind you, the warmth of his body nearly intoxicating until he broke the silence, his voice a low murmur.

“Did you mean it?”

“What does it matter?” You managed to rasp out. “I ruined it.”

“Birdie…”

“Listen, you’ll say it’s too much, I—I know, it’s fine.” You stumbled over your words. “You’ll have my resignation letter tonight, and Kelsey will pick up my things from the office. We don’t have to talk about any of this, just…” You wiped your eye with the back of your hand. “I ruined it, it’s fine, I’m just gonna go, okay?”

“You didn’t—” Bucky let out an impatient breath. “Sweetheart, can you just look at me please?”

You were pretty sure that if you saw the look of disappointment in his eyes, you were going to collapse on the floor and start sobbing but you sniffled, then turned around to look up at him.

That didn’t look like disappointment.

He lifted his hand to wipe at the tear under your eye with a soft smile.

“I’m not gonna say it’s too much.”

For some reason that remained a mystery to you, you jumped at the opportunity to convince him; “No you should say it’s too much because it is too much, because like I’d totally understand—”

You were cut off when he brushed his lips against yours, but this time it was way too gentle like he feared you would break if he so much as held you wrong. He pulled back to let you breathe since your nose was clogged because of the tears that kept coming, and your eyes fluttered open, confusion settling over your mind like a fog, engulfing all your thoughts in it.

What was happening?

Bucky’s eyes darted over your face, and he took a deep breath like he was nervous.

“I’m not good at this,” he muttered. “But I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You pulled your brows together and sniffled, then nodded.

“I…” he trailed off. “For the last what, 80 years now? Everything with HYDRA, and those missions and cryo, over and over again, it was all ice. That was the only permanent thing. Bone-chilling cold. And when I first came back, when I got my mind back, I kept wondering why I still felt so cold, like a part of me never really left there.”

You blinked back the tears, wiping at your nose.

“And eventually, I figured it would be like that for the rest of my life. No matter what I did, what I tried, it was yet another thing that I would never get back, something that HYDRA carved into me. I got all of it out of my mind but I couldn’t get that…that chill out of my chest.” He paused for a moment and breathed out a curt laugh like he was lost in the memory, his brows furrowing.

“Until you came along,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “And brought the warmth with you.”

You didn’t even notice the tears were back until Bucky wiped under your eye with a knuckle, trailing your cheekbone.

“I’m not gonna say it’s too much,” he told you. “I can’t. I love you too.”

…Oh.

Bucky—

Bucky loved you.

He actually loved you.

You stared up at him in complete silence as Bucky reached behind you, and you heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening before he stepped back, a shadow playing in his eyes like he was preparing for the pain, like he expected you to somehow reach into his chest to rip out his heart and walk out, leaving him with ice in his chest again.

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to,” he said. “Including keeping you here. I just needed you to know, that’s it.”

This had to be the third time he gave you a way out today, and each time it felt more and more insane to even think you would walk away.

A small sob climbed your throat, disbelief making you let out a teary laugh before you grabbed the door handle, pushed the door close, then flung yourself into his arms to pull him into a kiss. Your head was spinning, you were breathless, your heart felt like it was trying to climb out of your ribcage but none of that was enough to make you stop kissing him. He leaned down to snake his vibranium arm behind your thighs to lift you up like you weighed nothing, making you let out a squeal that soon turned into a giggle as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you to the room at the other end of the hallway which turned out to be his bedroom, not pulling back from your kiss as if it would somehow break the spell until he carefully laid you down on the bed, settling between your legs. You tugged at his shirt with shaky hands and he pulled it off his head to throw it somewhere in the room, and you had only a couple of seconds to drink in the sight of his muscular torso before his lips found yours again. You trailed your fingertips down his chest to his abs and tried to unbuckle his belt but he pulled back, making you chase his lips with an impatient whine.

“Birdie—hey,” he whispered, his warm hand cupping your cheek as your eyes fluttered open, your heart beating in your ears. “Slow, okay darling?”

You tried to catch your breath, confusion pinching your brows together. No one had ever asked you to be slower about anything in your entire life; on the contrary, you were either pushed or convinced to be faster, to rush, to get it over with, whatever it was.

In or outside the bed.

“I, um…” You tried to find your voice through the fog of desire, looking up at him as he stroked your burning cheek while you played with his dog tags. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do things slow. I think.”

You could see that fond light glimmering in his blue eyes even in the dimly lit room.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, his vibranium fingertips running up and down your leg, waking goosebumps on your skin. “I’ll teach you how.”

This was new.

And way too unfamiliar.

And for once, your brain couldn’t think, not when he was looking at you like that, touching you like that.

“And you don’t—” You paused, but somehow Bucky didn’t seem annoyed by you trying to wrap your mind around the idea. Instead he waited patiently like he had all the time in the world, like there was nothing more important than what you were about to say. “You sure you don’t want to be fast to…”

For fuck’s sake, it was so hard to produce a single thought when he was half naked on top of you.

“To do what, beautiful?” he asked softly, nudging your nose with his, coaxing a giggle out of you while you trailed your fingertips over his muscular back.

“To do something else?” you said, what Max would always say when you were in bed flashing through your mind. “To—to work?”

He looked almost at a loss for words at the mere suggestion but he seemed to pull himself together much faster than you, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Birdie,” he murmured and dipped his head to kiss your neck, his hand pushing the hem of your dress up your legs, making your eyes flutter close. “I cannot even begin to tell you how much we won’t work tonight.”

[tsunaso]

hiii ur red hood fic really opened my third eye like it was scrumptious !! but may i request tim drake with a bimbo/himbo reader (gn or whatever u prefer !!) who is tired of people thinking that they're the submissive one in the relationship by the media (doesn't help that tim likes to be a brat and feed into the rumors) so they take it upon themselves to put him in his place ! yummy brat taming mmm

“LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!”

pairing. Sub!brat!Tim Drake x Top!himbo!male reader

synopsis. Tim Drake has the internet fooled—he’s got everyone thinking he’s the one in charge, And you? The soft, golden retriever boyfriend who carries his bags. It’s cute. Until Tim starts leaning into the act just a little too hard. Now it’s time to remind your baby boy exactly who’s in charge—and shut that bratty little mouth the only way he’ll learn. — 4.6k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, brat taming, blow-job, soft dom, hair pulling, power play, dumbification, overstimulation, choking, light degradation, spanking, praise kink, subspace, name-calling (slut, baby boy, etc.), aftercare, Tim is a little menace <3

Tim Drake had been smirking all damn day.

It started small—barely-there glances during the morning interview, the casual way he leaned into your side when the camera panned your way. But it escalated. Fast.

By the time lunch hit, the internet was already eating it up. A now-viral clip of Tim sitting in your lap at last night’s gala, fingers twirling lazily through your hair while he whispered something into your ear. The caption? "tim got that man wrapped around his finger 😂😍"

You weren’t mad.

You knew what you looked like next to him—six foot something, soft-voiced, sweet to a fault. The golden retriever boyfriend. And Tim? Sharp suit. Sharp eyes. Sharper mouth.

Of course they thought he was the one in charge.

But Tim knew better.

“You’re really gonna let them think that?” you asked, sometime after dinner, when he curled up on the couch beside you, phone in hand and that same smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Think what?” he asked, too innocently.

You narrowed your eyes. “That you call the shots.”

Tim didn’t even look up. Just shrugged, thumbs still tapping the screen. “Well. I mean. Have you ever said otherwise?”

You stared at him.

He smirked wider.

“I’m joking,” he added, too quickly, slipping the phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Tim climbed into your lap again, just like he had in the video. He settled in like he belonged there—like you were his throne—and looked up at you, all lashes and mischief.

“I mean,” he said, voice low, “you don’t exactly correct people when they say I keep you in check.”

You arched a brow. “Because I think it’s funny. You, keeping me in check? Baby, you cry when I change the Netflix password.”

“Okay, that was one time. And I was stressed.”

You leaned in. “You pouted for three days.”

“I missed my show!”

Your hands found his waist, big and warm and just a little firmer than before.

“And now you’re feeding into it,” you murmured, tone dipping, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. “Retweeting the edits. Dropping quotes in interviews. Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, too fast.

“Like you want me to prove you wrong.”

That shut him up.

His breath hitched.

And when he met your gaze again, the smirk faltered just enough to tell you everything you needed.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw, light and sweet.

Then you whispered, “Upstairs. Now.”

Tim didn’t move right away. He blinked up at you like he hadn’t expected you to actually say it out loud.

You arched a brow. “Did I stutter?”

He swallowed. “No, sir.”

God, he was such a fucking brat. You loved him.

You stood, tugging him up by the hand. “Then go.”

He turned, smirking again—but quieter this time—as he walked. And you let your eyes drag over the way his hoodie hung too loose around his waist, the curve of his ass in those smug little tailored pants.

You followed him up the stairs. Watched him slow at the bedroom door, as if debating whether to keep the act going or not.

He stopped just inside the room and turned. “You sure this isn’t about your ego?”

You tilted your head. “You sure you want to test me?”

Tim stepped back, slow, walking toward the bed. “I’m just saying… all those edits aren’t wrong.”

You stalked in after him.

“You mean the ones where I’m apparently your soft little boyfriend who gets flustered when you hold my hand in public?”

“Mm.” He sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at you. “I mean, you do blush kind of easy.”

You stepped between his knees. Let your hand curl into the collar of his hoodie and tugged him up, just a little.

“I blush because you’re cute,” you said, lips brushing his. “And also because I’m thinking about shoving my dick so far down your throat you forget how to spell your own name.”

That broke something.

Tim’s smirk cracked.

You pushed him back onto the bed, gentle but firm. He landed with a little oof, arms spread, eyes wide.

You pulled the hoodie off. Tossed it to the floor.

Then crawled over him, bracing your arms on either side of his head.

“You think you’re in charge?” you murmured, voice low. “You think you can keep running that mouth, posting those captions, letting people think I’m the one getting fucked?”

Tim swallowed. “I mean, technically—”

Your hand closed around his jaw.

Not hard. But enough.

His words cut off with a sharp inhale.

“You’re real bold for someone whose knees shake when I say ‘good boy.’”

Tim exhaled shakily. “...You haven’t said that yet.”

You smiled.

“Oh, baby. You’ll earn it.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You dragged him upright by the wrist and sat down at the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs wide as you pulled him between them. He blinked at you, confused for half a second, until you patted your lap.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh,” you said, gripping his hips and manhandling him across your legs, “I am very serious.”

He squirmed. “You can’t be—this is childish.”

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear as your palm settled against the curve of his ass.

“You wanna act like a brat, baby? Then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

Tim went very still.

His breath hitched when your fingers hooked into his waistband and tugged both his pants and briefs down to his thighs in one smooth motion.

“You should be grateful,” you murmured, smoothing your hand over his skin. “Most people don’t get punished this pretty.”

He made a sound—half protest, half flustered noise—but you didn’t give him time to think.

The first spank landed with a sharp snap of skin.

Tim jolted. “F—fuck—!”

You rubbed the spot you’d just struck, fingers tracing the flush rising there.

“Language,” you said calmly. “Now count.”

Tim hesitated. Then, sullenly: “One.”

You nodded. “Good boy.”

And brought your hand down again.

Harder.

Tim gasped. “T-Two.”

“Louder.”

“Two!”

Another slap. Sharp. Deliberate.

He arched off your lap with a hiss. “Three.”

You kept going. Not fast. Not cruel. But hard enough that each strike landed with purpose.

“Four… Fuck, five—!”

You raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Tim froze. “...Five.”

You hummed. “That’s not what I heard.”

He groaned into his arm. “C’mon—”

“No. Start over.”

His breath caught. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

You smoothed your hand over his burning skin again, slow and warm.

“Don’t make me add more.”

Tim growled softly under his breath, but said nothing.

He took a breath.

And started again.

“One.”

Smack.

“Two.”

Smack.

He was breathing hard now. Not from pain—but from the pressure of it. The control. The way you wouldn’t let him wriggle out with sass or sarcasm.

You felt him twitch every time your palm landed, felt the slight tremble in his thighs. His hips had started to subtly shift with each strike.

And his cock—trapped between his stomach and your thigh—was getting hard.

You grinned.

By the time he reached “Eight,” his voice was cracking.

“...Nine,” he whimpered, burying his face in the sheets.

You held still. Let your palm rest on the warmth of his ass.

“You sure about that number, sweetheart?”

He sniffled.

“Yes—Nine, I swear.”

“Mm.” You gave it a moment. Let him breathe. Let him sweat.

Then delivered the final blow—firm, with your hand curled slightly to catch the same spot as before.

“Ten.”

Tim’s voice was raw. “T-Ten.”

You hummed in approval. Ran your hand down his back.

“Good boy.”

He shuddered.

The words hit harder than the spanks.

You leaned over him, letting your mouth graze his shoulder.

“Now,” you murmured, “maybe you’re ready to earn a little more.”

Tim stayed there a moment too long after the tenth strike. His head was down, cheek pressed to the sheets, hips lifted like he wasn’t quite ready to move—like the weight of you across his back had melted him into something obedient.

You rested your hand on the curve of his ass again, rubbing gentle circles into the pink skin.

“Look at that,” you said softly, fingers dragging down the side of his thigh. “Didn’t even need to tie you down.”

Tim made a sound—something caught between a scoff and a sigh. “You’re acting like this was your idea of mercy.”

You chuckled and leaned in, letting your chest press to his back, breath warm against his neck. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to be mean, you’d still be on the first round.”

He shivered. You felt it beneath you—the slight tightening of his core, the way his hips shifted just enough to let his hardening cock drag against your thigh again.

“I see the little show’s over,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Where’s all that confidence now, huh?”

Tim groaned quietly. “I hate you.”

You smiled, wide and full of teeth, and kissed his shoulder again.

“No, you don’t.”

You let your hand trail forward, brushing down his stomach, just barely ghosting the underside of his cock—enough to make him jolt, but not enough to give him what he wanted.

His hips jerked forward instinctively, but you pulled your hand away before he could grind against your palm.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, clicking your tongue. “Not until you ask.”

Tim twisted just enough to look at you over his shoulder. His hair was a mess, cheeks red, lashes wet. His glare didn’t have half the heat it usually did.

“You really want me to beg?”

You tilted your head and let your thumb drag over his lower lip, pressing just enough to part it.

“I want you to be honest. With me. With yourself.”

He sucked in a breath and held it. You waited, still stroking lazy circles on the side of his hip, letting the silence stretch like silk between you.

Then, softer than you expected:

“I want your mouth.”

You didn’t move.

You didn’t answer.

You just kept looking at him—slow, patient, adoring.

Tim swallowed. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again.

“Please.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please what?”

Tim’s lashes fluttered. His hips flexed again, like his body was begging faster than his mouth could keep up.

“Please use your mouth. I—I want you to suck me off.”

You could see the tension in his jaw as he forced the words out, how much it cost him to say them without a smart-ass smile. No games. Just need.

You kissed his spine, slow and reverent.

“There he is.”

Then you flipped him.

Strong hands under his thighs, you lifted and shifted him effortlessly onto his back, laying him out like a gift on the bed. His legs dropped open on instinct. His cock twitched against his stomach, red and leaking.

You settled between his thighs and looked up at him with a grin.

“You want my mouth, baby?”

Tim nodded quickly. “Yes—please, just—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the head of his cock.

“Then you better keep still,” you whispered. “Or I’m starting from one again.”

He whined.

And you licked the drop of pre from his slit like it was honey.

Tim tried not to squirm.

Tried being the key word.

You hadn’t even taken him into your mouth yet—just kissed the tip, licked him slow, let your tongue tease the slit until he was gasping—and he was already trembling. His fingers twisted in the sheets, tight-knuckled and white, like he was holding onto something just to keep from falling apart.

You looked up from between his thighs, chin resting lazily on his hip. “You’re shaking already?”

Tim glared down at you. “You’re teasing me.”

You smiled. “I’m preparing you.”

His breath hitched.

“For what?” he asked, voice breaking on the second word.

You leaned forward, dragging your tongue from base to tip, slow and deliberate.

“To get fucking ruined.”

He groaned—loud and raw—and let his head drop back to the bed.

You took your time.

You let your lips part just around the head of his cock, letting it rest warm and heavy on your tongue, your hands bracing his hips down to keep him from bucking. He gasped the moment your mouth closed around him.

“Oh—fuck—”

You didn’t stop.

You went deeper, slow at first, letting the weight of him stretch your lips open until your jaw ached in the best way. Your tongue flattened beneath him, tracing the underside with every pass. You could feel every twitch, every pulse.

He tried to lift his hips again. You pressed down harder, holding him still.

“Stay. Still.”

His voice cracked. “C-can’t—fuck, you’re so—”

You took him deeper.

Tim’s breath choked off halfway through the word.

You swallowed around him, gagged once—deliberately—and moaned around his dick like he was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

He whimpered. “Oh my god—”

You pulled off just enough to speak, spit clinging between your lips and his shaft. You smiled, voice hoarse and low.

“You wanted my mouth, right?”

Tim nodded frantically, his pupils blown wide.

You licked a slow stripe up the side, fingers tightening around the base of his shaft.

“Then fucking take it.”

You dropped your mouth back down—and this time, you didn’t stop.

You pushed deep, let his cock slide past your tongue, past the gag reflex, until your nose was buried in the soft skin of his lower stomach. Your throat clenched around him instinctively. You heard the breath rush out of him like he’d been punched.

“F-Fuck—M/n—!”

You didn’t let up.

You pulled back only halfway, spit bubbling around your lips, and sank down again with more force—deliberately.

Tim was moaning now—long, drawn-out, helpless sounds that echoed off the walls.

You kept choking on him, mouth slick and hot, eyes locked on his face the whole time.

He looked wrecked.

Beautiful.

Totally undone.

“I can’t—I can’t—gonna—gonna—”

You squeezed the base of his dick and pulled off just in time.

Tim sobbed.

His hands reached for you on instinct, desperate, grabbing for your shoulders, your hair, your face. You caught his wrist mid-reach and kissed the inside of it.

“You don’t get to cum yet.”

He looked like you’d just killed him.

“You’re evil.”

You grinned.

“I’m thorough.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You sat back on your heels, wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. Tim was panting, chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles. His thighs were still trembling.

You tilted your head, dragging your gaze down his flushed body.

“You’re shaking.”

His eyes fluttered. “That’s your fault.”

You laughed, rich and low, and ran your palms up his thighs—thumbs circling the twitching muscles, moving closer to where his cock still throbbed against his stomach.

“No, baby,” you murmured. “That’s yours. You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you?”

Tim didn’t answer.

So you leaned in closer. Let your mouth hover just above his navel.

“You were hard in the car. Hard when I told you to get upstairs. And I bet,” you whispered, dragging your fingers lower, toward his inner thighs, “I bet if I spread your legs right now...”

You paused.

Then pushed.

Tim’s knees dropped open without resistance.

And there—between his cheeks, slick already shining against his hole—you saw it.

You went very still.

“…Timothy Jackson Drake,” you said slowly, voice edged with something between amusement and hunger. “Did you prep yourself before I got home?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just turned his head to the side, cheeks flushing deeper, the tips of his ears bright red.

You grabbed his chin gently and turned him back to face you.

“Answer me.”

Tim’s voice was hoarse. “...Yes.”

Your cock twitched.

You exhaled hard through your nose, trying not to let the groan slip free. But fuck—he really had. He’d done all this knowing how it would end. He’d spent the day riling you up, waiting for you to crack, knowing that when you did, you’d fuck him hard enough to shut that smart little mouth for hours.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you muttered.

His lips curled into a small smile. “Takes one to—mmph!”

You kissed him—filthy, fast, full of spit and the taste of his pre. He moaned into it, open-mouthed, greedy. You pulled back only to let your voice sink into his throat again.

“You really want it that bad, huh? Couldn’t wait? Walked around all day with your hole fucking ready?”

Tim nodded fast, desperate. “I wanted you to make me wait.”

You blinked.

“Yeah?” Your voice dropped. “You like it that much? Laying there, open, knowing I wouldn’t touch you until you earned it?”

He bit his lip and looked up at you from under his lashes.

“I like being your problem.”

You groaned and kissed him again, hand sliding down between his legs, fingers slipping easily through the slick gathered around his entrance.

“You’re not a problem,” you whispered, sinking two fingers into him with no resistance, “You’re a fucking addiction.”

His voice came out wrecked—quiet, needy, breathless.

“Then don’t stop until I forget my own name.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“F-fuck, M/n—too much, too much—”

Tim moaned like he’d lost his mind.

It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t contained. It was loud, cracked, real—the kind of sound that only came out when everything else had already broken down.

You had just pushed into him—slow at first, just enough to stretch him—but the moment your hips met his ass, flush, heavy, full?

He sobbed.

You gripped his thighs harder, pinning them to your sides. He was already shaking, the insides of his knees clenching around your waist like he was trying to keep you close and push you away all at once.

“You’re the one who got ready for this,” you said through clenched teeth, sweat already rolling down your neck. “You did this to yourself.”

Tim was barely listening. His hands were in your hair, on your shoulders, grabbing at your arms like he didn’t know what to hold onto.

“You’re so fucking deep—”

You leaned down until your forehead pressed against his, panting into his mouth as you rolled your hips once, slow and hard. He whined like a kicked dog.

“I’m not even moving yet.”

His whole body jolted when you pulled back and thrust again—harder this time. Sloppy. Loud.

There was no rhythm. No grace. Just slick skin, the sound of your cock sliding into his soaked hole, and the wet slap of your hips hitting his ass, again and again.

Tim gasped, voice high. “Don’t—don’t stop—just like that, just like that—”

“You sound so fucking needy,” you growled, hands sliding under his back to lift him, to pull him in tighter. “Is this what you wanted all day? Getting stuffed so deep you can’t even lie to yourself about who owns this pretty little ass?”

Tim couldn’t form words. His head tipped back, mouth open, voice caught in his throat.

You slammed in again, dragging a scream out of him. “Say it.”

His lips moved, but nothing came out.

So you stopped moving entirely—just kept yourself buried, cock twitching inside him, chest heaving. “Say it, Tim.”

His eyes snapped open. Desperate. Wrecked.

“You,” he croaked. “It’s yours, it’s all fucking yours—please, don’t stop—”

“Good fucking boy.”

You grabbed his legs, shoved them higher, nearly folding him in half, and pounded back in without mercy.

The moan that ripped out of him didn’t sound human.

You drove into him like you’d lost patience—like he needed to feel it in his ribs—and you knew the angle was hitting him dead-on because he kept clenching around you like he couldn’t take it.

His cock was leaking all over his stomach, untouched.

You didn’t reach for it. You didn’t need to.

Not when he was already babbling.

“Fuck—oh my god—yes, yes, right there—M/n, I’m gonna—”

You snarled and leaned down, biting at his neck just hard enough to make him jolt. “You better not cum without permission.”

Tim whimpered.

You could feel it—his whole body was right on the edge. His toes curled. His legs shook. He was crying, soft little gasps mixing with broken moans, eyes rolled halfway back.

“You wanna cum?”

He nodded frantically, face flushed and wet.

You slowed your thrusts, just enough to grind.

“Beg for it.”

His voice cracked. “Please—please, let me—let me cum, I can’t—I can’t hold it—please, sir—”

You slammed into him one last time, rough and deep, and held there, grinding into his prostate with punishing pressure.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Tim screamed.

His cock jumped against his stomach, ropes of hot cum shooting up his chest as he seized in your arms, whole body spasming from the force of it. His hole clamped down around your cock so tight it dragged your own release right out of you.

You didn’t even pull out.

You just buried yourself deeper, groaning as you emptied into him, your fingers digging into his hips, holding him still as you spilled everything inside him.

You stayed there—buried deep, panting against his throat, still twitching inside him as your cm warmed his already-slick hole. He was limp beneath you, chest rising in shallow pulls, lips parted in that dazed little O-shape that always told you you’d wrecked him just right.

But you didn’t move.

Didn’t pull out. Didn’t let go.

Instead, you kissed his cheek, soft and slow, and murmured, “You still with me, baby?”

Tim made a sound. Not a word—just a breathy little whimper that cracked at the edges.

You smiled.

“That’s a yes,” you said gently, brushing your nose against his temple. “Color?”

He nodded once against the pillow. “Green.”

His voice was small. Floaty. Like his brain had drifted somewhere far, and he was only now swimming back toward you.

“Good boy,” you whispered.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his flushed cheeks, tear-slick lashes, and mouth still a little open like he hadn’t remembered how to close it.

“You look so dumb right now, sweetheart.”

Tim blinked at you slowly, like the words were getting stuck on the way to his brain.

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.

“You like getting used like that, huh?” you asked, voice soft and low, like you were telling him a secret. “Letting me fuck you stupid? Letting me fill you up ‘til you can’t even talk?”

He moaned again—soft, almost shy.

But you could feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

You hummed and rocked your hips forward, just enough to grind. Not thrust. Just let him feel the weight of you still inside him.

His body jolted like a live wire.

“Sensitive,” you said, smiling as he whimpered. “Poor baby.”

“I—I can’t—” Tim’s words stuttered out. “Too much, I already—”

“I know,” you cooed. “You already came so hard, baby. Made such a mess for me.”

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You traced lazy circles on his skin with your thumb.

“But your pretty little hole is still so greedy,” you murmured, giving a slow, shallow thrust that made his eyes roll. “Look how it’s holding onto me. Like it doesn’t wanna let go.”

Tim keened. His fingers scrabbled at your shoulders, his whole body arching without control.

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “You can take one more.”

He shook his head—but his legs were already spreading wider.

You smiled against his throat.

“I’ll go slow,” you promised, voice velvet. “Won’t hurt you. I’ll make it so good, baby, you won’t even have to think.”

You started to move—deep, slow grinds that made him feel every inch. His walls fluttered around you, overstimulated, raw, and dripping, but he didn’t say stop.

He never did.

“Look at you,” you whispered, lips ghosting over his ear. “My sweet little thing. All open. All mine. Can’t even form a sentence.”

“C-can,” Tim gasped, but it was a lie and he knew it.

You chuckled low and deep. “Okay. What’s your name?”

He blinked.

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

Your next thrust was harder. Not punishing. Just firm. Measured. Intentional.

His whole body jerked.

You kept your voice soft. Sweet.

“You love when I talk to you like this, don’t you?”

Tim was crying again. Quiet, overwhelmed tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

You kissed one. “You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good for me.”

You shifted your angle, pulled one of his legs higher, and aimed a thrust directly into that sweet little spot inside him that made him scream.

His voice cracked.

His cock jumped, untouched.

“You gonna cum again just from this?” you murmured, breath warm against his lips. “Gonna let me fuck your brains out till there’s nothing left in that pretty little head?”

Tim nodded frantically. He was gone. Gone.

“I wanna—wanna cum, I wanna—”

“You need permission, baby.”

“I—I—please—please, let me—”

You slammed in one more time and held there.

“Do it.”

Tim shattered.

He came untouched—again—cock spurting weakly between you, body twitching under yours like he didn’t know how to stop.

You rocked through it, slow and careful, riding out his orgasm until he went limp again, arms wrapped around your shoulders, breathing soft and uneven.

And this time?

You pulled out.

He whimpered when you did.

But you kissed his lips, slow and sweet.

Then you cleaned him—gently, warm cloth and whispered praise, your fingers rubbing soft circles into his hips and arms while he blinked up at the ceiling, too blissed out to speak.

You crawled into bed with him afterward, pulling the covers over both of you, letting him curl into your chest like always.

He pressed his face into your neck and mumbled something soft you couldn’t quite make out.

You smiled and kissed the crown of his head.

“Love you too, baby.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You were half-asleep.

Tim was curled into your chest, breath soft against your skin, legs tangled with yours under the blanket. He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Still twitchy, still sensitive. But content.

You were just about to drift off when the tablet on the nightstand lit up.

You didn’t even flinch at the ringtone—Wayne comms had a specific ping. One that usually meant: “Gear up.”

Tim groaned into your collarbone.

“Don’t answer it.”

You reached blindly for the device, not bothering to sit up. “It’s probably just an update.”

The moment you tapped accept, Dick Grayson’s face filled the screen. He looked sweaty, in uniform, leaning half-out of a fire escape window somewhere across the city.

“Hey, sorry, quick one—Tim are you doing Uptown or should I grab it?”

You blinked blearily, still squinting against the screen glare. “Tim isn’t scheduled for tonight.”

Dick frowned. “Really? I thought Tim was on the rota for North End—”

Then he paused.

And tilted his head.

“…Are you naked?”

You didn’t answer.

Dick’s eyes flicked to the side, squinting.

“Is that—oh my god, Tim?”

You turned the tablet slightly.

Just enough to show the very flushed, very shirtless, and very recently-ruined boy sprawled half across your chest, lips kiss-bruised, neck marked, hair destroyed. His eyes were open but barely.

He blinked once.

Then groaned into your shoulder, trying to hide.

Dick lost it.

“Oh my god. I’m hanging up. I am hanging up right now.”

“You could’ve just called,” you said calmly.

“I thought this was urgent!” he snapped, already fumbling for the end call. “I didn’t know I was about to see my little brother looking like—fuck, Tim, are you drooling?”

“I hate you,” Tim mumbled.

Dick’s cackle echoed even as the screen cut to black.

You tossed the tablet face-down on the nightstand.

Tim didn’t move.

You kissed his hair once and pulled him closer.

“I’ll cover your shift.”

He groaned again. “You better. He’s never gonna let me live that down.”

You grinned against his temple.

“That’s what you get for being a little shit.”