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blkkizzat · 4 months ago

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❝ AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY GETTING MY ANCIENT SORCERER BF HIGH? ❞

MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER

» thread [summary]: Sukuna just ate all your edibles and is now more lit than Tokyo Tower—great. Now you have to fuck his high n' grumpy ass calm before you're the one that's actually fucked.

» upvotes [wc]: 11.9k » awards [cw]: true form sukuna, crack fic 110%, dr*g use, accidental dr*gging, slight dubcon, sub!sukuna, cunnalingus, fingering, whiny!sukuna, riding, twin-cock sukuna, nipple teasing, lots of banter, spanking, bimbo!reader, pussy smacks, frottage, premature ejaculation, creampie, breeding fantasies, rimming, cum eating, femdom, uncut/uncircumcised, high n' sassy sukuna, bondage, lots of teasing, and bits of fluff . » mod comments [a/n]: part of the 'we be burnin' JJK 420 collection (ill make a series post eventually i swear lol). I had the goal of keeping this under 12k and i made it! by 44 words. this was supposed to be a 5k fic but I got carried away because I love exploring modern day tf!sukuna x reader relationship so lots of banter and tid bits.

Enjoy!

Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this!

Standing in front of the large shoji door to Sukuna’s quarters, any nerve you build quickly dissipates by the time you raise your hand to knock.

SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!

Swaying on your feet, suddenly, you don’t feel so sober anymore. Well, technically you weren’t even sober to begin with—far from it actually, you'd just started the come down from some pretty powerful edibles.

Edibles which happen to be the source of all your troubles now.

You thought Sukuna leaving, for what you assumed would be a few days, would be the perfect opportunity for you to get completely zoinked off your ass—and that's exactly what you did.

Yet, unbeknownst to you, his plans had changed and he had returned home only after a day.

So when you finally awoke from your weed-induced power nap to discover Uraume had served Sukuna the remaining of the matcha and adzuki manju edibles you had made, you just about fell out.

Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them.

You didn’t even intend to make so many, but you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter and you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. Not with how tough it was to find good weed in Tokyo with it being illegal and all.

But fuck!

You can’t recall a single time Sukuna ever enjoyed human food—more sated by human flesh instead.

Yet from what Uruame told you he had already eaten at least five of them already.

Who knew The Curse King had such a fucking sweet tooth?!

Of course, Uraume blamed you once you explained. And true, while you did make the edibles, you certainly didn’t tell their ass to serve them to Sukuna!

Uraume scoffed at you though, claiming anything in Sukuna’s palace belonged to Sukuna—including you and whatever you happened to bake.

The pompously dull scolds Uraume gave went in one ear and out the other as you rolled your reddened eyes. Eyes which immediately turned into a panic when Uraume demanded it be you, not them, to check up on Sukuna.

That was the whole reason why you are even in front of Sukuna’s door right now sweating fucking buckets.

Especially, since Uruame made the utterly insane accusation of you attempting to poison Sukuna.

You tried to argue that Sukuna is immune to toxins—but Uraume wouldn’t listen to any of that.

Hell, If you thought you could take Uraume in a fight, even in a more sober state, you would have literally scrapped with their ass before you agreed to check on a possibly high Sukuna.

Who knows what kind of nefarious time The King of Curses would be on while high!?

Uraume is the one who is his attendant and also fed him the edibles!

They should be the one to go!

But you also aren’t an idiot. You know for a fact Uraume would hand you your ass and then force you to go check on him anyway. No sense in getting unnecessarily bagged up when Sukuna himself might actually kill you.

So here you were, in front of his door dreading what might be waiting for you on the other side.

“Woman! You are annoying me more by just standing out there, come-in or fucking leave.”

Piercing your thoughts, Sukuna’s gruff command booms through the door with enough force to make you take a few steps back.

Okay maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad?

He sounded normal enough.

No one high could still be this grumpy.

Sukuna is The King of Curses after all.

Something as simple as a mere plant shouldn’t have any affect on him, right?

Steeling yourself, you slide open the door to his chambers.

You make a mental note to fire your therapist, as the deep meditative breathing patterns they recommended does fuck all to temper your increasing anxiety in this situation.

Peering into the room before you enter, you see Sukuna propped on his side atop the wooden engawa patio leading to his private gardens. His nose seems to be buried in some ancient text you can't quite decipher from this distance.

Well, he looks normal enough too—from what you could tell at least.

You walk towards him but Sukuna makes no acknowledgement to greet you.

However, if you could see his face, you would see the amused evil that pulls up at the corner of his lips.

Sukuna can sense your uneasiness radiating off of you in waves.

You’d not been this distressed to be in his presence in quite some time and yet you still sought him out—something you rarely did—even in a good mood. Typically, you’d only come to him when he called for you or when you wanted his cock.

You had to want something from him—and a slut like you was never shy about asking for dick.

Interesting.

Sukuna knew you hated having to humble yourself to ask anything of him, so he took great pleasure in teasing you for it when necessity meant you could no longer delay your request.

Whatever you wanted, Sukuna certainly wouldn’t make it easy for you.

Where would be the fun in that?

And neither would your own body, apparently, make this situation any easier. You nearly trip over your own feet as the paranoid side effects of your high reaches full throttle.

Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.

The vision of the tea set next to him along with the plate of your manju edibles—the now almost empty plate—confirms your fears.

Only one solitary piece remained.

Nervously, you kneel near Sukuna’s feet, your back perfectly straight and your arms extended in front of you. Forcing yourself into an overly formal position to avoid fidgeting any more than you already are.

A tense silence settles between you both—well, tense for you.

Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort.

You swallow, unsure how to start.

Even if he wasn’t a malevolent ancient cursed sorcerer, telling someone they’ve been accidentally dr*gged was never going to be a pleasant conversation.

Although, you still do your best to be covert in your inspection of him—no sense in telling him he’d been dr*gged at all if he wasn’t actually high.

Sukuna on the other hand is growing impatient with your nervous energy.

When he finally speaks, you’re nearly jumping out of your own skin.

“Why are your eyes so red, brat? Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking crying again? Is the time of your moon cycle upon us already?”

Did this man for real just ask you if you were on your period!?!?

Exhaling deeply out of your nose, you give him a polite, yet clipped, reply.

“Just allergies, m’lord.”

You wanted to tell him off so bad but you didn’t want to piss him off more than necessary, considering the circumstances. Besides, you were certain your eyes were red as hell right now from being high for the last three hours. So in order to control your temper, you proceed to gaslight yourself into thinking that, for someone like Sukuna, this was a logical assumption to make.

The thought stops you from cussing him out at the very least.

However, Sukuna is astute enough to know you’re lying.

Truthfully, he’d only made the comment to rile you up.

Not only were you a horrible liar to begin with—but everything from your clenched knuckles, to the way you gnaw on your inner cheek to contain your sass, are all dead giveaways.

Those facts withstanding, Sukuna could tell by the subtle shift in the scent of your intoxicating pheromones alone if you were on your moon cycle or not.

And it was far too late into summer for it to be allergies.

No, something is on your mind.

Something you didn’t want to come right out and tell him.

Not that he tended to care at all about any of your silly concerns, but seeing you had seeked him out in such a frazzled state has him curious.

What other than him could get his favorite lil’ human this upset?

Sukuna immediately loses the little remaining interest he has in his book, all of his interest now focused on you.

His evil grin widens.

“Then is ‘just allergies’ to blame for placing the notion in your dizzy little head that I wanted to be fucking bothered with your presence right now? Or are you telling me ‘allergies’ is a new modern term for sluts wanting dick?”

Son of a bi—and see this is exactly why you actively avoided him when you’re not fucking him!

Sukuna was obnoxiously insufferable to be around when he wasn’t giving you toe-curling, heart-stopping, vision-blinding orgasms. You surely would have at least tried to escape by now if it wasn’t for that—well, that and the fact he did have a literal palace and you no longer had to have a job or worry about rent, bills and all the other shit you hated about adulting.

You weren’t treated like a princess but you pretty much had access to everything practical you could ever want.

Although you were still working on getting a stable internet connection up in the mountains.

Yeah, no, Sukuna wasn’t a bum by any means and you could surely do a lot worse than a mean, forever-grumpy, ancient asshole.

Sigh.

However, as far as you were concerned now, you had two ways you could play this: you could fly off the handle at his intentionally crass insults or you could pay it.

You choose the latter, knowing he would soon grow bored of you if you just shrugged off his mockery, ignoring him.

You just need to buy yourself a bit more time to tell for sure if he was high or not. Then you could fuck off and enjoy the remainder of your own high as you wouldn’t be getting stoned for a while now.

Thanks to him eating all your stash.

“Uhhh, no m’lord. I-I just wanted to know how you enjoyed the manju I made. I filled them with matcha and adzuki beans…It was my first time baking them.”

Oh?

You still wanted to play games?

Sukuna’s gaze darkens at the chance to pick at you more. The more you would lie and beat around the bush the more Sukuna wanted to press your buttons.

Never getting bored of pissing you off, angering you was his second favorite pastime. You made it too easy to wind you up like a coil until you snapped like a little twig in his grasp.

All so he had an excuse to do his actual favorite pastime—punishing you.

Lacking any sort of discipline, you were more of a hot head than he was at times—which was saying something. Sukuna loved to bring you to the very limits of your sanity with his taunting of you. Only so he could watch you helplessly thrash beneath him, frustrated that you could never beat nor overpower him.

You were a curious little sorcerer who got off on edging death which was apparent from how your fiery anger quickly sparked into shameless arousal, like the massive cockslut you are. You’d be cursing Sukuna to hell before begging him to take you along for the ride.

In turn, Sukuna would bully both of your tight greedy holes, mesmerized by your filthy cunt creaming enough to soil a puddle onto any surface he happen to fuck you on.

You had to have been a succubus in a past life.

His sexual appetites were immense but you were nearly insatiable yourself. Fucked out and trembling, with your eyes barely open, you’d never stop pleading him for more until he’d fuck you unconscious.

Nevertheless, in this lifetime you were a pitifully weak sorcerer in comparison to him—however you could be considered ‘special grade’ if ranked solely on your ability to take dick.

Truly, your best quality and what has kept you alive thus far.

At least that’s what Sukuna would tell himself when the thought of you dead leaves him feeling restless and agitated. It’s why he never lets you leave the palace grounds other than with Uraume on their occasional visits into Tokyo.

Sukuna had deemed you too weak to be left to your own devices outside of his palace.

You were his plaything, to do with as he pleased—and right now, he wanted to make you absolutely lose your shit.

From the way your aura bristled, it was clear you just needed one final push.

And so, Sukuna pushed.

“HA! I could tell—”

On the verge of unraveling altogether, your brow twitches as you count backwards from a hundred in your mind to calm down—another bullshit coping mechanism from your soon-to-be-fired therapist.

100…99…98…

“—thought you filled those manju with horse shit.”

97…9—

Never failing to take the bait, you wouldn’t disappoint him this time either.

Jumping up, you wobbled on your feet but that didn’t stop you from stomping your foot in indignation with enough force to make the old wooden floorboards creak.

“THEN WHY IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOUR BIG HUNGRY ASS PRACTICALLY EAT THREE DOZEN OF THEM!?”

From the looks of it Sukuna was perfectly fucking fine—like you had figured he’d be.

This had proven to be a complete waste of your time even checking on him. The brief encounter had done nothing but fuck up the remainder of your high since he wanted to be such an ornery bastard about everything.

Forgetting all about your plan to not piss him off, instead you flip him off, storming away.

“LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN AFFECT YOU?! WHAT A FUCKING WA—”

Like a blur Sukuna rises as his four arms extend to ensnare you.

However lucky for you, you sense him in time to dod—wait… did you just dodge him!?

No, that's not right he must have missed.

Huh?

HE FUCKING MISSED!?

Whipping your body around, you face him.

Your wide confused eyes meet his own puzzled gaze, one that you notice is turning increasingly more red by the second to extend beyond just the color of his pupils.

You don’t even have the time to appreciate how adorably ridiculous the expression is on him before the realization hits—

—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!

He likely hadn’t moved from that spot since he so gluttonously devoured your entire tray of edibles. In turn, as is with the nature of getting high, if you are sitting or laying down while you partake, you often don’t realize exactly how baked you are until you finally stand up.

And from the looks of it the high had just hit him like a fucking semi-truck.

Sukuna was absolutely lit.

Staggering in his stance, a look of surprise is on both of your features. You were for certain Sukuna would have fallen to the ground if not for his hand catching onto the wall beside him.

His awkward movements are akin to someone suddenly realizing how bulky and inconvenient it was to be approaching 8-feet-tall with four massive arms.

“O-Ohhhh my god, Ohhhh my fucking god! Y-You can actually get high!?!”

Thoroughly gagged, your hands fly to cover your mouth. Always one for inappropriate reactions at awkward and improper times, you can’t suppress your snorts of laughter as the reality of him actually being high settles in.

Sukuna on the other hand is currently fighting a losing battle with vertigo to find steady footing. His bloodshot eyes take on a more deadly appearance as his pupils glow red in fury to match.

“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”

Did he just stutter too!?

Oh shit this was too good.

You cursed yourself for not having your phone on you, but knew better to bring a phone around Sukuna. He’d broken your phones one too many times because he wouldn’t admit he was more jealous of you paying attention to your talking clock (it was TikTok) than him.

Yet at the same time, his accusations that any of this is your fault piss you off further.

“ME!? I’m not the one who just smashed over 3000 grams of weed! Pretty sure that much would even take down a fucking elephant!!”

In response, Sukuna growls as his cursed energy discharges off of him in erratic waves. Yet the intensity is not nearly as oppressive as you knew it could be.

The weed is clearly having an effect on him.

“Watch how you speak to your King, brat. I won’t warn you again.”

Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically.

“Oh no, how could I forget my place, Sukuna! How about you ask next time before you just gobble up all my shit? Then this wouldn’t have even happened!”

When bickering with him, you often dropped all formalities which always got you into deeper trouble.

“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

CRACK~!

Wood splintered around Sukuna, falling to the ground in a heap. Sukuna had unintentionally misfired a cleave right through the wall next to you and effectively remodeled his chambers to extend into the next room over.

A few strands of your hair get caught in the crossfires and they float in the air beside you, along with the various debris from the wall.

It’s becoming quite apparent that while high, Sukuna struggles to keep his immense cursed energy in-check and it fluctuates to match his temper.

The look of shock on your face mirrors Sukuna's, who is now staring at his hand as if he had grown a sixth finger. It’s not a finger though, it's his eye from the face on his hand, bloodshot and red. That's when Sukuna notices the eyes on his face are also bloodshot, perfectly matching yours.

“ASSHOLE! What if that fucking hit me?!”

“Well, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be alive to be screeching at me right now, woman…”

You were seething.

How is everyone still treating this like it's your fault!?

“No one told you to eat all my edibles, King Big Back!”

Sukuna growled at your insults even if he didn’t really understand them.

He was huge—of course he had a big back…?

Your words, which Sukuna deems nonsensical, only make him dizzier and amplified the almost out of body experience he was currently in. Clearly the fault of your so-called “edibles”, Sukuna couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of sync with himself as he leaned against what was left of the structure.

Not since he’d first adjusted to being a cursed object in his very first host.

“Well fuck me then, for not realizing you were brewing poison, witch.”

“Yeah fuck you, because its just a plant! A harmless little plant! Didn’t they have hemp back in your pre-historic era, you old fossil?!”

Sukuna growls at your insults, but nonetheless considers your words.

Of course they had hemp.

Being practically native to Japan it was utilized in many trades, but this had to be a different variety of the plant. Sukuna never heard of it being consumed, as the plant had more pragmatic uses for clothing and tools.

“For practical use, woman! Not to make potions and consume like some fuckin’ degenerate.”

Your eyes narrowed.

Sukuna of all people calling anyone else a degenerate was rich.

“For the last time Kuna—it's not any kind of poison or potion! You’re supposed to be immune to toxins, remember?”

Sukuna growls once more.

True, poisons had no effect on him.

If what he consumed was in fact just a plant, and nothing imbued with venom nor curses, then perhaps this didn’t make the cut?

Although Sukuna is sure the after-consumption effect has to be akin to something poisonous, since for the first time in likely what had to be a thousand years, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crept up his throat.

Stepping back inside his chambers, he teeters unsupported on his feet before dropping down to a seated position. The uncoordinated clumsiness of his actions causes the room to shake, sending more fragments of the now-destroyed wall crumbling around the both of you.

Dare you say it, you kinda… feel bad for him?

Sure you were still pissed at him, and in no way were you about to accept responsibility for this…but in this state he looked sort of, well, pathetic.

You didn’t think you’d ever be using that word to describe Sukuna, who’d time and again proved to be more fearsome than the beasts of nightmares.

Yet at the moment he was definitely giving off more sad Hello Kitty vibes, rather than a monstrous primordial tiger. All four eyes on his face were dilated to comical proportions and the tired scowl he wore was more akin to a toddler’s pout.

It was… cute?

Upon further appraisal, as he sits with arms and legs crossed like a child after a tantrum, you decide he definitely looks cute.

And dare you say even—baby girl?

Not like you could ever tell him that though.

You’re sure if you called him that, no matter how weak and uncoordinated he was now, Sukuna would somehow muster the willpower to wring your head right off your pretty little neck.

Regardless, having Sukuna be so weakened, even temporarily, was unsettling to say the very least.

“I-I really didn’t think you would eat them, Kuna. You don’t even like human food!”

Your voice takes on a more apologetic tone as you begin to inch over to him.

Dropping down on all fours, you cautiously crawl closer bit by bit in a similar fashion as to how one would a wounded beast you were scared might lash out—even if you were only trying to help it.

“I don’t ever fucking recall saying that, brat.”

Sukuna hisses but the fatigue was clear in his tone. The bite in his words hardly evoked the blood-curdling fear he was so easily capable of under normal circumstances.

Sukuna closes his eyes in exasperation, which consequently has you rolling yours.

Bulllllllshit!

Every single thing that man tried, he hated!

Well, every single modern thing.

Oh fuck, they had manju back then too, huh?

Stopping once you are directly in front of him, you peer up at him with big doe eyes, sweet and apologetic.

But Sukuna isn’t falling for it—or he didn’t want to at least.

Cracking open an eye at you before closing it again, Sukuna turns away from you, nose upturned.

Urgh, what a big diva!

You almost want the normal, insanely irritating, Sukuna back instead of the blitzed sassy creature before you—almost.

“Listen Kuna, you did eat a whole shit load... More than any grown ass man I’ve ever seen to be honest…”

You shook your head and mumbled the last part under your breath, ignoring his sassy gripes, as he definitely still heard you.

“Ok, so I have literally zero clue as to how long your high will last… but I mean hmm… why don’t you try RCT?”

Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression.

You had to be an idiot.

If Sukuna could focus his cursed energy enough for RCT he would have fucking done it already! Not to mention, take his sweet time in punishing you too. However, all that would have to wait until the disorienting effect wore off enough to make that possible.

For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.

This 'weed' was having strange effects on him, he is growing inexplicably nervous to be in your presence for some ridiculous reason.

“Leave.”

“Nope.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes flare and stare you down the best they can through his red-eye squints.

“I gave you an order, brat. I won't ask again.”

Sukuna tried his best to deliver his threats in the bone-chilling tone he was so well known for, but it falls flat, yet again, thanks to him being higher than a pair of perky tits.

His frown, and thereby his pout, intensifies at his current ineffectiveness.

“I can’t just leave you though, Kuna…”

Thinking him docile enough, you slowly crawl into his lap and thread your arms between the two sets of his own, gazing up adoringly at him. Sukuna allows you to do so without fuss, although he doesn’t return your embrace nor does he look at you.

His own head swirls too much—especially with how his skin begins to tingle just from the sensation of your warm body pressing against his.

“You need me! What if we were to get attacked by jujutsu sorcerers right now? I’d have to protect you!”

You don’t even try to suppress your giggles this time when your body is shaken by the disgruntled rumbles from his chest.

“Tch—with the few measly crumbs of cursed energy you do possess, you can’t even protect your own fucking self—”

“Hey!”

“—so if that happens, then were both royally fucked.”

Okay, so you weren’t anything close to a super strong special grade sorcerer. But you think you’d be somewhere around grade 1 now, so you could hold your own against most!

At least enough for you both to escape!

You’d only really be in trouble if that sexy white-haired blue-eyed sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, showed up. Although from the way he winked at you the last time you saw him, saying ‘you’d be prettier as a Jujutsu High teacher instead of one of Sukuna’s lackeys’, you’re pretty sure if you flirted hard enough you’d be okay at least.

Still, you actually liked living with Sukuna a lot more than you cared to admit. Moreover, ‘Jujutsu High teacher’ would qualify as you having to work an actual job—yeah nah, fuck that.

You’d stay with your ancient asshole, thank you very much.

Bringing your attention back to Sukuna, who had since closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, you poked a finger into his cheek.

Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.

Your little finger presses deeper and deeper until a mouth forms on his skin to snap at you, causing you to snatch your hand back before you lose said finger.

“Worry about protecting yourself, brat! You’re aware when this wears off, I’m going to fucking rip you apart and feed you to the mouth on my stomach limb by limb.”

Unphased, you flirtatiously bat your lush lashes as one of your hands slipped through his robes to caress the spot where his mouth forms.

“Awe Kuna, if you have the munchies that badly and want me to ride your stomach again—all you have to do is ask. I’ll let you eat me right up.”

His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.

“Urgh, woman, you should go enjoy the last hours of your life while you still can…”

His threat dissolves into grumbles, still making no attempt to push you off.

Well, if you were in fact about to go to glory as soon as Sukuna could control his powers again—you might as well enjoy yourself while you still can.

“Yeah, yeah, Kuna—but until that happens just relax, okay? Let’s have some fun, eh? That’s the whole point of being high in the first place!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes but allows you to push him back to the floor. His body feels so heavy and laying down was so much more agreeable than sitting up in his condition.

Still, he couldn’t see how this out-of-body-like experience could be fun.

Fun for Sukuna was killing.

Sukuna enjoyed most of his thrills relishing in the screams of his victims as he bathed in their blood which poured so liberally through his deadly claws.

He even has a pool of blood for god sake!

Well had—until you nagged him pretty much to death, complaining that you couldn’t be expected to bathe in the garden koi pond. As a result, Sukuna had Uraume restore the hotspring to its original state —if only to get you to shut the fuck up.

Hn, now that he considers it, you are way too much fucking trouble than your crazy-ass, tight-ass, lil’ cunt was worth—his current predicament being the ultimate testament to that.

“This isn’t fun.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you straddle him.

“It will be!”

For me at least.

You don’t say that last part out loud though.

You’re smiling down at Sukuna playfully, pulling your tank top from overhead to reveal your simple pink cotton bra with little flowers printed on them.

Sukuna, who had since draped an arm over his face, regards you skeptically from under his muscular limb with his lower set of eyes.

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, brat?”

“What does it look like asshole? I’m gonna fuck you.”

“And if I tell your bratty ass to fuck off and die?”

“Well, for one—it’s not like you can stop me. And two—when has me saying ‘no’ ever stopped you?”

You stare down at him sweetly.

“Slut.”

Sukuna snarls, turning his head in a huff once again.

Checkmate.

This was the ultimate win as far as you’re concerned.

Sukuna had his way with you entirely when you fucked. He was always in control—of everything. Not that the slutty masochist in you ever minded, but you wanted a turn to be the dominant one for once and control his pleasure.

Hell, if you knew marijuana would have this much of an effect on him you would have given him some sooner!

Besides, you could tell by the way his robes rose on the lower half of his body he was already feeling its euphoric effects.

Yet you had no idea just how much.

Sukuna’s already inhuman perception intensifies the experience a hundredfold. His limbs are heavy, as if the floor might give way, libel to sink into the very earth at any moment.

Staring out into the garden, he could see everything in vividly intense hypervision through his dilated orbs.

Every rustle of the leaves, every movement of even the smallest creatures, and every particle in the air took on a lustrous sheen. All his senses were in overdrive, creating a strange euphoria vibrating through his body, suspending him in time—that is until your honeyed voice snapped him out of it.

“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”

Soft hands cup his large face, bringing his sights back to you. Sukuna emits a disapproving grunt, or at least he thinks he does.

He’s not entirely sure.

With his attention now focused on you, everything else in the world seems to still.

The anxious throbs in his chest seem to prolong each beat, as if his heart might stop altogether. Sukuna concludes that these palpitations and irregular rhythms must be a side effect of the plant.

Has to be.

It certainly wasn’t the way the light of golden hour shimmered on your skin so radiantly, like an otherworldly ethereal creature only seen at dusk—making him feel like he was the inferior mortal in your presence.

“Don’t float away on me…”

Your voice, filled with angelic mirth, tickles his ears while your fingers gently card through his hair.

Sukuna bites his tongue, drawing out thick, viscous red liquid to suppress the needy purrs bubbling in his throat from your doting caresses.

How could he be the one to float away when you had the appearance of one who had descended from the sky?

Sukuna's lower set of hands unconsciously brace your thighs like a vice, as if to anchor you and prevent you from levitating away from him.

Goddamn, if not some potion, you had to have cast some twisted spell.

Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.

Has your skin always been this silky?

Sukuna succeeds in remaining quiet, yet fails in keeping his lower half controlled, involuntarily bucking his hips. His eagerness apparent, you rub your clothed mound over his twin cocks that stiffen beneath you.

Your hands skillfully loosen the knots in his obi to uncover his firm abs and ritualistic tattoos already covered in a sheen layer of perspiration.

Sukuna’s breath hitches when your fingernails graze over his sensitive exposed nipples.

“Watch it, brat.”

But he sounds so far away now, you don’t really pay him any mind.

You are lost in enjoying some of the far less intense, but still lingering, effects of your own high.

Humming a saccharine tune, your head tilts back as you relish the pleasurable strain in your inner thighs just from having them span over his broad pelvis. The melody serves as an accompaniment to the steady rhythm of your hips, unraveling him more by the second.

When your eyes do open again, you observe the strain evident across Sukuna’s sharp features.

You simper, wondering how long Sukuna could hold on before he fell apart completely underneath you?

Picking up tips from the royal headache himself on how to press buttons, you taunt Sukuna with your coos.

“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”

You’re pouting but your mischief is evident, twinkling brightly behind your eyes.

Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness.

You just loved calling him ‘Daddy’ like the filthy whore you are—lacking in any sort of couth.

This whole situation was infuriating for him.

And as such, Sukuna wants to be mad at you—to teach you a lesson, to have you meet your death at his own powerful hands—but alas—his own body betrays him.

Your still sparkling aura exacerbates his intoxicated frustrations along with his more carnal desires as euphoria rushes through him.

His nostrils flare when the candied perfume of your sinful little cunt—already soaked untouched—saturates the air.

Fucking hell—he could practically taste you on his tongue.

“Just get on with it then, if you think you can, woman—”

Giving your rear a firm smack, Sukuna hurries you along.

“—although, I’m sure your weakling ass will give up and be begging me to fuck you within the first minute.”

You roll your eyes.

Even in spite of his breath laboring slightly, along with minor twitching spasms of his thighs underneath you—he’s still acting tough.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Won’t we, Daddy?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you hop up to kick off your slippers. You take your time in removing your shorts though, hands sensually sliding them down, giving him a little show.

All four of his eyes follow the provocative sway of your hips intently, just the same as the one time you showed Sukuna what a lap dance was.

Of course he’d enjoyed it.

However, where’d you fucked up was mentioning how your previous lovers had enjoyed it too—because your twerking had lasted all of 20 seconds. Sukuna had then pinned you down, growling as he called you all manners of vulgar slut-whore. The result was you limping for the next 2 days, fuck harder than he ever had previously, angered by the thought of you ever having done that for anyone else.

However, as much as you wanted to take your time torturing him for once, you were too selfish to deny yourself. The thought of you having control when fucking him has you dripping.

Settling back on top of him, you’re on all fours facing towards his cocks. Giving Sukuna a prime view of your pussy in those cheeky pieces of fabric you called undergarments.

This wasn’t a typical view for Sukuna, who was used to looking down at you when you sucked him off from a kneeling position—so he could see exactly how those fat tears would well in your eyes as he ruined your throat when he forced your head even further down.

But this view wasn’t so bad. The growing wet spot on your panties confirms his nose had been accurate. However, you do look every bit of the fiendish whore that you are, getting so wet for him when he hadn’t even touched you.

You’re in your own world though and you audibly gasp upon peeling back the lower half of his robes. Taken aback by the thick globs of pre that gather at the very tip of his engorged cockheads. His essence pools in the folds of his foreskin until no more fluid could be contained, overflowing down his uncut length.

You’d never seen him this leaky before.

Your pillowy lips experimentally blow cool air across both tips and Sukuna hisses as his cocks twitch in your hands. Wasting no time, your tongue deviantly flattens as you lick up the trail of dribble that ran down his upper shaft.

His lower cock was hardly forgotten as your thumb completely uncovers the hidden tip. The well of pre spilling from him allows you to more easily pump his slightly girthier length in circular motions while you continue to salaciously suckle the other.

Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.

“Hnng—Y-You’re a fuckin’ cocktease! S-Suck me right, whore!”

You giggle at his faltering voice and Sukuna smacks your ass in response. His heavy hand still stings your skin even in his weakened state, making you all the wetter.

For each kitten lick, a slap to one of your plump cheeks rings through his chamber.

Sukuna is captivated by the way your flesh molds to his touch. He kneads each of your cheeks in his giant hands, leaving them warm and tingling.

The abuse to your rear goes straight to your pussy. You forget for a second that it's Sukuna, and not yourself, who is supposed to be the subservient one in this situation.

“Hurry up, brat! You seriously think a half-assed job like that is enough for me to cum?”

In response to his provocations, your warm breath salivates over his swollen glands before entirely engulfing his upper cock.

Pulling off of him with a pop you alternate taking the other one into your mouth. Sukuna flinches as you swirl your tongue around his lengths. Vacuuming your lips, you alternate between the two twin cocks.

Sukuna grits his teeth.

He had taught you to take him completely, although he always forced your throat open. He was genuinely surprised that you could do it on your own, which, to be honest, you probably couldn't have done without the weed relaxing the muscles in your neck and throat.

That’s when you hear it—the tiniest of whines—but a whine nonetheless.

“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”

If you could have seen his face you would have giggled at the pink that lightly dusted his features. Regardless, Sukuna isn’t one to take being bested lightly.

Sukuna hooks a finger through the crotch of your panties, yanking up roughly. From this angle, the effect only puts tension on your pussy—tugging your panties taunt and compressing your clit. You keen loudly as you release his cocks, no longer able to focus on getting him off.

“FUUHHHHCK!”

One hand keeps your panties pulled taut, another hovers over the most heat of your core, lazily rubbing over your covered entrance. Your ever increasing wet spot has him in a trance like state as it spreads to take over your entire crotch area, dampening his fingers.

RIIIIIIIP!

Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them,

Damn. Those were one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties too!

You're ready to tell him off but you never get the chance as two large fingers bully their way into your pussy, leaving you sobbing.

Even over the vulgar sloshing of your sloppy hole, you can audibly hear a rough moan from Sukuna as your core constricts around his burly fingers. Your hands and knees tremble violently as you struggle to maintain your balance.

Sukuna’s tactile sensations at its peak, he is in awe of how well your gummy walls suck his thick digits in further. The velvety ridges of your cunt was like an incubator of fiery heat—a heat that may even rival that of his own divine flame technique.

“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”

Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded.

Like a mortal who had dipped his hand into a heavenly jar of warm ambrosia, the allure of your cunt in his intoxicated state is bewitching to say the very least. Sukuna’s hyperfixation is focused on a single-minded mission to dig out more and more milky nectar from your convulsing lil’ hole.

Your searing walls clench down when a sharp nail grazes your g-spot. Crying out, your eyes sink back into your head and your slick pours down the length of his muscular forearm.

Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you.

Your fluids splash across his broad chest, arms and a bit even reaches his face—mouth forming on his cheek to greedily lick up your remains.

Even with limited control over his own faculties, Sukuna was still able to turn you into a quivering mess.

Dammit! You were supposed to be the one in control!

You can only weakly grasp at his cocks as the motions of his fingers switch from languid exploratory strokes to fast pumps, adding a third finger and pressing a thumb into the rim of your puckered hole.

Stirring up your insides, Sukuna, to be frank, isn’t doing it for your reactions but for your pussy’s.

Mind clouded, Sukuna fully dissociates once again in his enchantment of you, he doesn’t even realize you aren’t sucking him off any longer. He is much too distracted by every response your gooey cunt gifts him.

If anyone had asked him, in his utterly toked state, Sukuna would have sworn your cunt was actually squelching out full sentences. Sukuna, of course —fully fluent in ‘Cuntanese’—understands her with sparkling clarity.

She wanted more, to cum even harder.

She’s so fucking warm, so creamy, so lewd—all for him.

Becoming more sloppy and unaware in his actions, Sukuna’s growling increases. His current frustrations centered on needing to see more of your creamy slick spurt out of you.

Somehow all four of his hands are covered in your essence now. The hands with fingers not inside your pussy or rimming your ass, spread your cheeks wider, holding them up as the remaining one pinches your clit crudely.

Helplessly, ass up, you lay your head down on one of his upper thighs. You drag your nails alongside his hips hoping to disrupt his daze, but on the contrary, it does nothing but spur on Sukuna’s mania further.

The both of you being high made the situation that much worse.

Sukuna’s fingers drive you towards oblivion, crashing into ecstasy. The edges of your vision smoldered, blurring your sight. You aren’t sure if the sun had finally set and the stars you saw were in the sky or behind your own lids, momentarily disassociating from pure pleasure.

With a scream, you cum for the second time, your eyes locked behind your skull and your legs spasming as waves of pleasure make your hips twitch uncontrollably.

Holy fuck!!! You’d never cum that hard while high before!

Sukuna finally snaps out of his enthralled reverie, only to discover you’ve been reduced to a mere puddle on his torso. Your holes are agape and swollen from his brutality, glistening with fluids that hadn’t stopped dripping onto him yet.

You practically see his smug grin, a fang poking out from his lips, just from his smarmy tone.

“Heh—giving up that easy just from a couple fingers in your cunny, brat? Thought you were gonna fuck me?”

You whine. Even if his own voice sounded a bit strained it was nothing compared to your own condition. Yet despite your rubbery limbs, you muster the strength to push your jellied body up—determined to have your way with him.

Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.

The mouth on his stomach opens to lap away at the remains of your squirt on his torso and your slick-coated thighs. The thick slimy tongue has you jolting forward with a rippling moan when it flicks over your sensitive clit.

“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”

HA! How are you going to fuck him when you could barely be touched without shaking?

Sukuna guess you’ll be tapping out before the first round is over, tch—of course you’d need him to take over.

Testing his condition, Sukuna raises his head only to be immediately slammed with vertigo rushing psychedelic colors behind his eyes. He curses lowly to himself, still pissed the plant is having this much of an effect on him.

Sukuna makes a promise to himself that he will in fact kill you, iif you leave him blue balled because of this. The high causes his cocks to ache more than ever.

“Tch—If you’re going to do it, then do it. Fuck me then, ya nasty lil’ slut.”

Sukuna was right, you are a slut.

Fucked out by his fingers or not, your still aching pussy wouldn’t be satisfied until she was stuffed full of him.

But it would still be on your terms.

Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and feigning boredom.

However, his mood turns to annoyance though when he notices you only plan to take his bottom cock, he didn’t work that ass of yous ass open for nothing.

“BRAT—”

“—SHUT IT and let me concentrate if you wanna get your nut!”

You do quiet him though, once you manage to squeeze his thick cockhead into your cunt. Pussy clenching around his tip like a vacuum suction, you hear Sukuna slurp a thick wad of spit through his teeth as he grinds down on them.

It was cute, him trying not to react to you, That serves as enough encouragement to keep you from mentally succumbing to the monstrous girth entering you—for now at least.

Easing yourself lower on his fat girth, you’re panting, tongue out and hips quivering just from getting the head of him inside.

You’d learned to take him well enough, but that was when he was the one bullying himself into you. Having to mount him yourself was daunting to say the least. Only halfway in and your guts are shifting while moisture burns the corners of your eyes.

This was the exact reason you chose not to take in both his cocks.

You would struggle enough with just one of them.

His cock inside you, already pressed against your cervix, he is almost 3/4ths in and you have no idea how you will manage the rest. Suddenly wondering if Sukuna uses some kind of curse technique to fit all of him inside you without skewing your organs.

“Shiiiiit, f-fuckin’ dummy thick monster c-cock, this b-big for no f-fuckin’ reason…”

You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.

Sukuna smirks at your labored efforts but his mask cracks as you finally surrender to gravity and bottom out on him—the resulting cry from him is somewhere between a growl and a whine.

That was the end of resistance for Sukuna.

His ultra-sensitive cock twitching in the sweltering embrace of your gummy walls, convinced his dick might melt off then and there—the heat, he decided, was most definitely hotter than his divine flames.

Once nside you, Sukuna returns his bruising grip to your hips. His trembling fingers betray the fact he still doesn’t have the capacity to regain control anytime soon.

Exhaling your own shaky breath, legs under you, you lean back. One of your arms reaching back to plant on his muscular thigh, the other pressing his unattended shaft into the soft curves of your belly, adjusting yourself so its base brushes up against your clit.

Your warmth welcomes his unsheathed cock like a soft pillow and he’s biting his lips again, blood trickling down his chin.

Although he’s still leaking more than enough pre for lubricant, you still dip your head forward momentarily to drop a large wad of dribble on the cock nestled against your curves.

Your perverse acts are the cherry on top for Sukuna, who keens out a moan so loud, so needy and pathetic, it has your own toes curling. Fueling you to milk more from him as you bring down your hips harder, morphing The Curse King to goop beneath you.

Your own whimpers are just as obscene from the sight of his length extending past your belly button. It was surreal to see a distinct outer visual of just how deep his inner cock is inside you, you could feel them press together through your skin.

God, he was nearly in your ribs.

“S-Shiiiiiiit—M-MOVE! Ya f-fuckin’ dumbass brat!”

Sukuna yells at you, speech slurring, as his nails prick into your skin slightly.

You chose not to sass him this time though, too needy for it as well.

Establishing a rhythm, if you had the capacity to imagine anything beyond how his cock was spearing you open between your thighs—you might have mused that any curses in his palace—Uraume especially, must be absolutely terrified at what has their fearsome master is sobbing so wretchedly.

You’re thrilled at the idea of having transformed the most powerful cursed sorcerer into the crumbling virgin-like man beneath you.

You feel your body tremble as his swollen member throbs intensely inside you, causing you to sense the rhythmic pulsation of his heart resonating deeply within your being. Sukuna's face, usually composed, now displays an unexpectedly stressed expression, which only adds to his adorableness.

Yet, your own eyes were crossing so bad you couldn’t even enjoy your victory like you want.

Desperately moaning, you’re lifting yourself up and down, riding him in earnest as you fuck yourself dumb on his huge girth. Just one of Sukuna’s cocks were so intoxicating and you realized, the privilege of actually having him fuck you instead of you doing the work.

In order to guarantee both of your pleasures.

But you are hardly giving up—slippery fluids create delicious friction as his top cock also slides over your swollen clit. Your tits bounce lively every time your tight soggy pussy devours his cock back down to the base. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room, only overshadowed by Sukuna's unusual cries of pleasure.

Your inner thighs ache from exertion but you are in the zone now. You’ve willingly become your own torturer as you impale yourself on him.

Mind floating away as you treat his cock thrusted against your belly like a fidget toy. Your nails mindlessly rim the edges of his foreskin before grasping the tip of his cockhead, sliding the last bit of skin down to fully expose his angry bulbous tip. You squeeze him tightly while your other hand comes from behind you to pump the base.

While Sukuna’s lower hands still desperately hang on to your hips, he's since thrown one of his upper hands over his face much to his chagrin. The other, claws fully extended, proceeds to tear up the tatami matting of his floor.

Sukuna’s pitchy whimpers and badly suppressed whines have you so hot you forget yourself once again. Chasing your own pleasure, you pump his upper cock like slippery reigns as you ride him.

And that is exactly what breaks him.

Peeking out from under his forearm, Sukuna observes how your head is like a bobble, lulling with your movements as your slackened jaw so dumbly seeps drool down your body. All thought leaving your silly little head, babbling nonsensical coos and praises for his big cock ruining you.

Despite not being in control, Sukuna still feels a strange wave of warmth spread in his chest from watching you fuck yourself completely fucking stupid on him. The feeling instantly has his balls tightening, resulting in his upper cock twitching so violently that it even catches your fucked out attention.

You glance down just as his engorged length finally relieves itself, spurting out a geyser of cum all over you.

Sukuna releases a moan that is husky, deep and guttural—quite literally guttural—as he had just moaned from the mouth on his stomach. His upper cock is still spraying a hefty load of cum that covers your stomach, thighs and some even shooting up to hit you right below your eye.

Your eyes widen.

“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”

You’re hardly in the position to tease him though, disheveled and covered in his sticky essence.

You were quite the mess in your own right—heh, but you still weren’t the first to cum!

Sukuna glares at you, panting through his scowl with watery eyes.

Leaning forward, you continue to taunt him, keeping your hand firmly around his now flaccid member. Sukuna flinches and hisses, attempting to swat your hands away, but he finds himself even more weakened than before, unable to pry you away.

“Hmm, are you trying to tell me you prefer my hands over my pussy?l Or are you just this much of a slut for getting your nasty foreskin played with, Daddy?”

His lower cock pulses at your words, still painfully hard inside you, reminding you of your own needs. You don’t wait for Sukuna’s response before you’re back bouncing on him with increased fervor, pulling at your neglected tits and still giving him shit.

“C’mon Daddy, talk to me. You love it when your lil’ slut rides you while she’s all sticky, covered in your cum, yeah?”

For emphasis your fingers swirl shapes into the streaks of spunk on your belly, sloppily writing out the Kanji for “Sukuna” over your womb.

Sukuna’s face beet red from the anger and shame of having been reduced to a mere plaything for you.

Writing his name on you with his cum!? Fuckin’ debased, foul, nasty wh—

“Oh my, you’re backed up, Daddy. I can feel you twitching—a-ah!”

You snap him out of the turmoil of his thoughts with the lazy lust-filled evil saturated in your voice as you moan out more torturous, mind melting words for Sukuna.

“Y-ou’re gonna have to tell me before you cum, Kuna, kay? You spray this much inside me, with this thick monstrous cock of yours—you’ll get me pregnant, ya know. You wouldn’t want that—or do you?”

Your fingers play in his essence on your belly once more, circling the Kanji cum scribbles of his name branded on your skin.

“Bet ya wanna fill my tight lil’ pussy to the brim—force me to carry your lil’ curse-spawn-terrors—make you a real daddy, Daddy. You’d like that, huh?”

Sukuna’s sweat slicked hands struggle to hold onto you, throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at you.

He can’t keep you in his sights as he can’t stop the vision of you, being completely made his—belly full of his growing seed and tits full of milk—from invading his mind.

Dizzy, Sukuna can only think with his cock as you ride him towards nirvana. He’s almost at his greatly diminished limit again, his stamina now a joke of his usual.

Chasing your own high, you rub at your clit vigorously while you grind yourself against him. Your pussy spasming around his length that stretches you so well. Body wrecking itself with pleasure, your cries grow louder and more desperate.

So close. You’re so close. So clo—

But Sukuna is first yet again—crooning out a choked roar as he cums again, this time inside you.

With no warning....asshole.

Nevertheless, the satisfying warmth of his seed bursting against your cervix has you moaning from the overwhelmingly full feeling in your guts. Creampie frothing out of you, gathering at the base of his cock.

You were low key surprised that you were able to goad him into doing it at all. You weren’t seriously trying to get pregnant—just tease him a bit. You didn’t know he’d be this into breeding fantasies, as even though you are on birth control Sukuna for damn sure didn't trust any human pill to stop his cursed seed, always pulling out.

“W-Woah, this makes it, what? The second time you’ve cum before me—and inside me now too!”

The streaks on Sukuna’s furious cheeks leave behind evidence of the few tears you’d managed to fuck out of him.

“Aweee Kuna, should I call ‘Baby’ now? Only babies cry and cream before Mommy does.”

Sukuna chest heaves, staring death at you as he gives you the finger—one of the few modern gestures he’d picked up.

You laugh, although your body winces as you slide his thick softening member out of you.

Globs of your shared fluids drip out of you and onto his torso when you finally will yourself to stand-up over Sukuna, smugness radiating in your whole demeanor.

Desiring to remove that smug expression from your face, as well as your head, he cannot recall a time when he was defeated to such an extent since he was last imprisoned and his fingers were scattered.

Teetering on your cramping legs, you delight in your victory nonetheless. Taking your time in soaking up the image of him, grumpy, soiled, and flaccid, imprinting it in your mind to throw it in his face the next time he decides to get sassy with you.

You know he’s likely going to kill you for what you were about to do, but you’d never get a chance to do something like this again.

Besides, he surely has weed dick now given his still flaccid cocks and you still need to come!

Sauntering to stand by his head, your soft foot presses down on his clavicle, prompting Sukuna to bare his teeth while a clawed hand comes to wrap around your ankle.

“Heel, Kuna. You still have to make me cum.”

“I don’t have to do fucking shit but make good on my promise to rip you apart once this bullshit wears off.”

You pay him no mind as your foot shifts to raise his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze while your fingers swiftly glide up your inner thighs to spread your pussy lips. His cum still trickling out from the creamy plug that is visibly filling your center.

“Eat it.”

Sukuna looks at you skeptically, like you just lost the little remaining sanity your crazy ass had in the first place.

Who the fuck did you think you were?

To one—have him take a command from you, and two—actually think he’d let you dominate him in such a way.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Sit on my stomach and I might let you cum, brat.”

“Nuh-uh, Kuna—I wanna ride your actual face. It’s the least you can do after you came before me twice!”

Trying not to visibly wince, Sukuna was so over your nagging and constant reminders of how weak he was while high, trying to tune you out.

“...and then inside me without warning—like you don’t give a fuck if I happen to get pregnant!”

“I don't, get pregnant.”

“I—wait…WHAT?!”

You must have heard wrong.

Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid.

He always pulled out.

He just did not tell you to get pregnant.

No way!

Sukuna growls, he’s admittedly getting tired, but it's clear you wouldn’t give him any rest until you came once more. Well, at least with a mouth full of pussy he couldn’t say anymore wildly embarrassing shit he didn’t mean.

He really didn’t want kids, but picturing you pregnant made his dicks so unfathomably hard in the moment, it was confusing, not to mention infuriating. However, the last damned thing Sukuna wanted to do was talk about his slip up.

Left with no choice but to eat you out nasty enough for you to forget all about it.

“I SAID—If you don’t want to get pregnant, then park that ass of yours on my face, bitch.”

You bristle at Sukuna calling you a bitch, yet you let it pass once all four of his arms yank you down to sit you directly on his face, his tongue plunging straight into your gooey cunt.

And true to his skills, the conversation was the last thing on your mind, having been scrubbed of all thoughts once you felt his hot mouth consuming your sensitive flesh.

Sukuna's tongue traces torturous circles on your clit, before grazing it with sharp canine, prompting your hands to delve into his unruly locks. The grunts that escape Sukuna's lips as you tug on his hair intensify the pleasurable tingling in your pussy, compelling you to pull even harder.

To your delight, what his primary tongue lacks in girth compared to the one on his stomach, it makes up for in dexterity. Sukuna laps, swirls and twists through your folds. His tongue darts in and out of your wet slit so vulgarly leaking his cum, sending tremors up your spine.

Choking on your whimpers, your hips can’t stop shaking and Sukuna has to brace your thighs down to keep you in place. Sukuna wasn’t about to let you run from it now, not after all the shit you put him through.

You begged to cum in his mouth—so you are going to cum in his fucking mouth.

You cry out when a hand reaches up to manhandle your chest, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his gruff fingers. The pair of hands on your thighs move to your ass, gripping your flesh overflowing in his grasp.

Gasping, your mouth falls open, when his fingers massage your ass, spreading it open as he tilts you back to spit into your hole. Replacing his own mouth with one on his hand as he returns his attention back to your savory lil’ cunt.

Shiiiiiit!

Feels so good, you’re so close to cumming again. Your body trembles, the fire inside you spreading from your core to your fingertips as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”

You’re not even sure what you are asking for at this point, you just want more of it.

More of everything.

Sukuna, obliges you.

Losing himself in your lust, his panting becomes more wet and ragged. He’s painfully aroused once again, this time simply from listening to your whiney pleas. Sukuna’s tongue digs into your cunt deeper, scooping out his own cum and devouring it along with the continuous flow of your own fluids gushing out of you.

Your taste is much sweeter, cutting the unpleasant taste of his own salty spunk, so Sukuna relentlessly sucks more out of you.

Sukuna is so caught up in giving you pleasure, he’s completely unaware of the fact he’s now humping the air, cocks flinging pre on his abs as they sway against the imaginary friction.

“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”

You clench a fist full of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. You continuously buck your hips forward, your clit brushing agonizingly up against his nose. Quivering, glorious waves of pleasure wash over you, Sukuna knows all your pleasure spots as he easily takes you to the very heights of your ecstasy.

Sputtering moans nonsensically, you nearly slip off Sukuna completely when you tilt back too far. You unintentionally end up choking him as you catch yourself by grasping onto his neck for support.

Sukuna, caught off guard, gags. The intense vibrations from him choking on your pussy as he heaves for air tips you right over the edge. Your world washes white as you cum, thighs and hips and convulsing.

Outlasting you this time by a hair, Sukuna cums hard, his milky fluids jetting out from his cocks to spill onto his stomach—shooting up as far as to land on your back.

Dazed from your orgasm you don’t actually realize he'd cum again until you actually slip on the mess he’s made when you begin to climb off his face.

“D’aww, Baby done messed himself bad this time, huh?”

“Perish.”

Weariness seeps through his tone, betraying the fatigue that weighed on him after cumming even harder than the previous two times.

Silence fills the space as neither of you noticed before how the sun had long since set. The soft moonbeams were the only source of light in his chambers, illuminating the space more than usual, due to the now destroyed wall.

Your bones feel like mush but you still manage to grab Sukuna’s discarded robe, using it to somewhat wipe off your bodies.

Sukuna doesn’t register how intensely he’s staring at you, having dissociated once more.

His arrogance is replaced by a strange look of infatuation—well strange for him.

Sukuna is lost again, charmed by your shining aura in the lunar light. The very essence of your soul glows iridescently to him, even in darkness.

He muses there’s not a being, human nor curse, as captivating as y—TCH, THE FUCK?!

Whatever you gave him was turning him into a real fuckin’ sap, thats for damn sure.

Sukuna needed this nightmare to be over, and have neither of you ever speak of it again.

You on the other hand are doing your best to fight the urge to bashfully shrink away. There were typically only 3 emotions that ever appeared on Sukuna’s face: brooding, predatory or straight up hostile.

Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Sukuna exhales, exasperated.

He doesn’t know what to do with you. His troublesome lil’ human that, for some insane reason, he’d formed an attachment to beyond using as a cocksleeve.

“Then you’re a dumb slut who likes to fuck weirdos, brat.”

Shoving your face into his neck, you inhale the scent of his skin and your sex.

“Got me there, Daddy.”

Nibbling up to his chin, one of his arms wrap around you, bringing you impossibly closer when your teeth graze over his sweat slicked Adam's apple.

Grinning at him, you lick up any of your essence lingering on his face.

“You know, I’m going into the city with Uraume next week—I could get some more of this shit, we could actually smoke it next time, hm?”

“You could also be a corpse scattered in a million pieces by then.”

Although Sukuna’s yawns sound more like roars, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at his displays of weakness any longer. The edible enhanced the stated feelings of the after sex high, amplifying it a hundred fold and making him unusually docile.

Even if Sukuna could now understand why mortals do this for “fun”, he personally just never wanted near the stuff again—let alone in his fucking palace.

But he’d fight you over that later.

“Moreover, I will literally never eat any of your concoctions again.”

You’re yawning too, the effect being contagious as the question absentmindedly slips from your lips.

“...Hm, s’that so? *yawn* ….Well why did ya in the first place, Kuna?”

Tsk, stupid woman—because you made them, of course.

Sukuna said it in his head.

Sukuna swore he said it in his head.

But when you immediately bolt upright, eyes expanding like saucers, he knows he fucked up.

Attempting to recover, he tacks on a brash comment. Remarking on how he knew consuming them all would piss you off—oh and it had—but in this case, the damage had already been done.

Concern flashing across your eyes, you hurriedly brush your fingers through his rosy locks. Picking and prodding, firmly turning his head from side to side, until Sukuna’s own hands entrap yours, pausing your frantic actions.

“And just what the fuck are you doing now, woman?!”

“Checking for stitches.”

Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.

“I’m serious! Kenjaku’s not in there with you, is he?!”

“You must actually think I won’t kill you, brat….”

You giggle softly, satisfied with his answer as you peck tender kisses on his lips but Sukuna is unmoved.

Sukuna hardly ever kisses you to be fair—but you’d just fucked him to tears!

The least he can do to repay you is a kiss!

“C’mon Kuna, stick out your tongue a lil’ for me.”

Sukuna stares at you unamused.

“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”

Your words hang in the air, a rebuttal poised on the edge of his lips.

But upon meeting your bright angelic eyes, Sukuna in a moment of unexpected impulse, closes the gap between you.

Your lips clash as you breathe in one another. The kiss is less urgent than your earlier cravings, but just as filled with desire. A tumultuous dance of tongues and teeth, fueled by some magnetic pull that would likely never be vocalized in words—yet you still feel everything Sukuna leaves unsaid.

You smile once he allows you to pull back for air, blowing a kiss at him before resting your head back on his chest. Your body easily molds over him and his remaining arms snake around your form.

All of Sukuna’s eyes were closed, the welcome heaviness behind his lids extending down through his entire being.

Honestly, this is the most at peace he’s been in centuries.

“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”

Of course, you would be the one to disturb that though.

“Only if you promise to go the fuck to sleep after, brat.”

You nod into his chest, your hands only cupping a tiny part of his biceps as your manicured nails trace along his tattoos.

“How’d they taste?”

Seriously?

You’re fucking insufferable.

But Sukuna is way too over it all to fight you right now. His entire body feels akin to a giant sandbag with every passing second.

“Decent. Now sleep.”

Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately.

“Aweee Kuna, Daddy! You big softie! Next you’ll be telling me you love me, huh?”

Tsk, and this is exactly why Sukuna would fuck you unconscious—so he didn’t have to put up with your nonsensical overly emotional prattling after. The intimacy of pillow talk has him queasier than the vertigo he’d experienced earlier.

“I loathe you.”

“Love you t—”

Faster than you can react, his powerful hands move, grappling your head down and clamping over your mouth instantly.

“SLEEP!”

Listening to the grumbles resonating in his chest from Sukuna's unintelligible muttered curses, you hum contentedly with his hand over your mouth, a simple ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you ease into a comforting slumber.

The next morning, you are stirred awake by blinding sunlight.

Still lethargic from the night before, and totally not a morning person, you try to roll over. Yet you find yourself unable to move.

Huh?

Wanting to rub your eyes clear of sleep, you become aware that your hands, for some reason, are behind your back and are also immobilized.

Panic begins to set in. You fear it might be a bad bout of sleep paralysis—that is, until you hear Sukuna’s dark voice bellow over you sarcastically.

“Oh? What’s this? The lazy whore finally arises…”

Heart pounding anxiously, your bleary eyes open to the vision of Sukuna’s form towering over you next to his bed.

Ok, at least he had the decency to—

A flash of red catches your eye.

Oh, fuck…

Entangled in the shibari frog-tie position—you are bound in complex knots. The thick silk crimson ropes intricately weave their way around your naked body.

Tied with seasoned precision, the visually striking pattern of the ropes accentuated your body’s serpentine contours. Knees bent, your plump thighs are spread wide and apart, which secure to your calves.

You feel a chill run through you as the early morning air breezes past your cunt, fully exposed as the ropes are the only thing adorning you.

Equally excited as you are terrified, your squirms cause the diamond cut pattern to imprint deeper into your supple skin. Shivering under his smolder, goosebumps erupt across your skin and fat tears well on the edges of your eyes.

Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.

“Now, now—”

His powers fully restored, the depraved smirk Sukuna wears is the most chilling you’d ever seen.

“—you didn’t delude your silly little head into thinking I wouldn’t get my turn, now did you?”

Sukina cups your face, the mouth on his hand savoring your tears.

The harsh reality donning upon you as to how fucked you really are in this situation right now.

Shifting his grasp to squeeze your cheeks, Sukuna forces your mouth open.

Fully awake, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as Sukuna unveils a platter—the same platter bearing the last remaining manju edible.

“Now fucking say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, brat.”

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

» a/n: what you think of 420 Sukuna? Hopefully it wasn't too long/dragged on? this is meant to be a one shot btw. im really not trying to do a p2 (please, lmfao i cant). i still have a toji 420 fic half written and an idea for nanami but putting those on the back burner to finish another installment of otaku!gojo or nerd geto p2, one of those will be next. i promise! taglist will be in reblogs.

comments & reblogs make my coochie cream

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luludeluluramblings · 1 month ago

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SugarBaby!Reader (Neglected!Bat!Sibling) x Tony Stark - Falling in Love

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Someone wanted more fluff of this and I had thoughts about it last night. Tony isn’t my favorite, but I kinda wanted to challenge myself with this and see if I could try it writing some romance.

A/N: Smalltown!Reader is still coming. Pregnant!Reader will be getting a part 2 at some point. Might post another series, the one army dreamer inspired, because why not? Gonna have sooo many WIPs. But, maybe they’ll give y’all some delight.

Warnings: GN!Reader, Mentions of bedroom activities, fluffy, not edited, hardly anything Yandere. Intended to be

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

When you and Tony started dating it had been after he had wooed you at some gala. Something for a long forgotten charity. You had initially been hesitant, knowing his play boy reputation. The one so eerily similar to your father’s Brucie Wayne persona.

Still he was charming, good looking, and had convinced you that one night wouldn’t hurt.

And, it hadn’t. The next day when you were about to crawl out of bed and begin your walk of shame, he had dragged you back. Taking his time repeating the night before and with an encore.

By the time you had finally been allowed to leave the bed, your stomach had let out an embarrassing growl that made your cooling skin flush once more.

Of course, Tony wasn’t going to let anyone he spent such a good time with go hungry. Ordering the two of you room service and a giant spread of breakfast.

It’s in that moment things start to shift. You were a good lay for Tony. A young pretty little thing that was some of the best he had had in a while. (Due to him mellowing out with age, not that he’d ever admit that.) But, it’s the way you look at him, shyly and with such genuine gratitude just for him buying to brunch that makes him stop.

Not pause. Because pause means he’ll end up playing again. And, he’s fairly certain he’s done playing. Because, when you happily sit in his button down shirt, munching on the food he bought you, and listen to him talk about an old project (he wasn’t dumb enough to share anything new he’d been working on) with such bright eyes and enthusiasm he realizes this might be trouble for him. It’s even cuter because he knows you don’t understand a single thing he’s saying, but you’re trying. You’re trying so hard and it’s so cute.

It keeps going on like that. Passionate nights and slow talkative mornings that morph into date nights and fun trips and days lounging together. You’re still honestly convinced it could all end at any moment. Nothing good last in your life. And, despite how desperately you want this to last you know it probably won’t. Still you swear to hold on. To take everything he’ll offers. Even if it’s not much and he leaves you in the end. You’re going to appreciate how full and fulfilled her makes you feel.

For you, you fall in love slow and overtime. It a soft and startling realization when you realize you love Tony. You love him dearly and he could break your heart into a million pieces. But, it would be worth it.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Loving him and waiting for him. To leave.

For Tony, it’s similar. He spoils you he does. He loves the way you look at him when he does. But, as he unknowingly starts to settle, the realization that he’s not showing you off in public as much anymore and that he enjoys just being near even when there’s nothing to talk about hits him in the chest. And, in a Tony Stark like fashion, he spirals for a bit.

It causes him to spend three full days in his lab avoiding the world and his problems. Not sleeping, hardly eating, ignoring Jarvis.

When he finally does emerge, he’s covered in sweat and grease. He aches. He’s tired. He’s irritable. His fully expecting you to be mad he missed your fancy date he had planned. But, when he looks up at you and see’s that exact same grateful look in your eyes, it clicks. You give him that same look of gratitude and adoration every time he does something for you. He’s not doing anything other than being here with you. And, that’s enough for you. You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you. And your willing to love him as his is and with what ever he gives.

Tony doesn’t confess though. To cliche. Instead he proposes. With no ring, no plan, and covered in grease. But, completely serious. It isn’t long until you understand he really means it, that he wants you for you and you’re leaping in his arms crying, yes. Yes. And the. You tell him to shower, because despite the love you feel and your happiness, he smells ripe.

He chases you around instead, before dragging you into the shower with him.

It isn’t until you both have a small private court house ceremony and he’s dragging you on to a luxury honeymoon that he leans over and confesses. Casually. Like it was a stray fact.

“Oh, hey, by the way, I love you.”

It makes you squawk that he has the audacity to do such a thing, but you lean into him and say it back.

“I love you, too… Silly old man.”

“Hey! That’s not what you were saying when I-“

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You hadn’t even thought about you family with Tony. Hadn’t thought to invite them to the wedding. You did call Alfred as soon as you got back though. Telling him the good news with so much happiness that the old Bulter cried when the call ended. You had sounded radiant, and it broke his heart.

Broke his heart that no one in the family had seen just how beautiful your joy was and that they had never bothered to cause it.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Based off this ask.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #platonic batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #sugar baby!reader

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reidmania · 1 month ago

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love letters | s.reid

summary; when you miss spencer while he is away on a case, you re-read all the love letters he has written you over the course of your relationship

warnings; established relationships, mentions case but doesnt go into detail, fem reader, reader is not a coffee drinker, fluff fluff fluff

an; fic six!! this is just pure fluff tbh. also can we appreciate the colouring on this fic. ITS SO PERFECT PRETTU PERFECT.

You’re lying on the bed that feels too big without him, your fingers idly tracing the edge of a soft, worn piece of paper. The clock beside you reads 2:12 a.m., and you can’t shake the emptiness settling over you as you stare at the ceiling, too awake to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Spencer’s been away for three days now, and every hour without him feels like it stretches on and on, the silence heavier than you’d ever thought silence could be.

Your eyes drift back to the drawer beside your bed, a drawer he never opens, but where you keep something he would recognize instantly. Tucked away are letters, dozens of them, each one a quiet reminder of him. They’re notes, really—not grand declarations, not epic poems. Just little reminders he’s left you over time, slipped into coat pockets or left folded on your pillow. You hadn’t intended to save them all, but now, having them close is the only thing keeping you grounded while he’s away.

You open the drawer and pull out the little bundle tied with a piece of twine. Your heart swells as you untie it, gently unfolding the first note. It’s one of your favorites, written on a torn scrap of notebook paper, one corner crinkled from a drop of coffee. Spencer had left it on your kitchen counter before heading out to work, months ago.

“If I could leave you notes all over the world, I would. But for now, just look outside—it’s raining, and I know that makes you feel calm. I’ll be home before the storm’s over. – S”

You smile, remembering that day. You’d found the note just before noticing the rain falling in gentle streams outside your window, and you’d waited with a blanket by the window, watching the clouds until he came back, just like he’d promised. He always knew how to turn your little quirks into anchors.

Setting that note aside, you reach for another. This one’s written on the back of a receipt from the bookshop downtown. It’s short and scrawled in his neat handwriting.

“You pick up this book as if it’s a friend you haven’t seen in years. It’s beautiful to watch. Don’t forget to mark your place in the story—I want to hear what you think. – S”

You laugh to yourself, remembering how he’d tucked it into the back of the book after you bought it. He hadn’t let you see it until you found it yourself one night, and the memory of the way he’d watched you read that note makes your heart ache just a little more.

You lie back against the pillows, shifting so you’re curled around his side of the bed. It’s silly, maybe, reading these notes over and over. But as you go through them, each one reminds you how much he loves you, how he notices things about you that you hadn’t even noticed about yourself. His love is a quiet kind, a series of small gestures and words, but somehow, it feels bigger than anything else you’ve known.

Another note catches your eye. This one’s on a tiny sticky note, a bright yellow square you’d found on your mirror one morning.

“You make coffee exactly how I like it, even when you don’t drink it. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before. I’m lucky. – S”

You can still remember the warmth of his hand over yours when he found you reading it, how he hadn’t needed to say anything else.

The letters become a timeline of your relationship, a way to measure time not by dates but by memories, by little notes that remind you of the person you are when you’re with him. Each one has a tiny piece of his heart tucked into it, a small reminder that he’s with you even when he’s halfway across the country.

You read through a few more, feeling your eyes grow heavy but not wanting to close them. There’s something grounding about seeing his words, knowing that he took the time to write these little messages just for you. In a way, it makes the ache of missing him almost bearable, makes you feel connected to him in a way that’s both heartbreaking and comforting.

You’ve just set down the last one, a note he left in the middle of a crossword puzzle—“How do you always know the words I can’t think of? I love you.”—when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s him.

You answer on the first ring, not even caring if he’ll be able to hear the lingering sleepiness in your voice. “Spencer?” you say, unable to help the warmth in your tone.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is soft, low, and there’s a hint of worry in it.

“Not really. I couldn’t sleep,” you reply. There’s a beat of silence before you add, “I was reading some of your notes.”

The smile in his voice is unmistakable. “You kept those?”

“All of them.” You can practically feel his surprise through the line. “It helps. You know, with you being away.”

He hums softly, a sound you know means he’s thinking. “Do you have a favourite?”

There’s a hundred favourites, but you know the answer without hesitating. “The one on the mirror, about the coffee. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed something like that before.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, but you know he’s smiling. “I think about those little things a lot,” he admits. “I keep thinking about how much I miss you. I know I’ll be back in a few days, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing it was sooner.”

Your heart tightens, and you can’t help but imagine him sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, thinking of you just as much as you’re thinking of him. “I miss you, too,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

There’s another pause, the comforting kind, where neither of you needs to say anything. It’s enough just to be together, even like this.

“Do you want to hear about the case?” he asks gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll say no. You do, because it’s part of him, and you always want to know. So he tells you, his voice a familiar comfort in the dark, weaving through the details with that measured precision he’s so good at. You listen, nodding at the right places, even though he can’t see you, letting his words settle over you like a lullaby.

When he’s finished, there’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line. “Do you have any notes for me?” he asks, the hint of a tease in his voice.

“I could think of a few,” you say with a smile, glancing down at the scattered pages on your bed. “Maybe a sticky note on your phone: ‘Call your girlfriend as soon as the plane lands.’”

You can hear his smile widen. “I think I can manage that.” His voice softens, the words almost like a whisper. “I’ll keep leaving them, you know. Notes, I mean. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you ever need a reminder. That I love you. That I notice the little things. That I’ll be there, even if it takes a while.”

You’re quiet, just for a moment, because the words stick in your throat. He always knows how to get to the heart of things, how to make you feel so understood. “I don’t need a reminder for that,” you say. “But I’ll still read them every time I miss you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve written so many,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

You nod, letting your eyes close. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice like a gentle embrace over the line. “Sleep well.”

The call ends, but you hold the phone to your chest, listening to the quiet in your room. For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel lonely. Spencer may be miles away, but his words are here, resting against your heart, waiting for you in every corner of every room.

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hannieween · 2 months ago

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strobe lights | lights out series

Joshua's search for an answer to the frenetic pacing of his life leads him down roads that could cause him more confusion. And fear.

✮ pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader x joshua hong ✮ genre: angst, fluff, smut [18+] ✮ aus: theatre director jeonghan, rockstar joshua, polyamorous relationship ✮ word count: 23.2k

→ season one — season two — read more

› smut warnings under the cut

✮ warnings: anxiety attacks, dark-ish themes, mentions of drugs. smut with plot, toxic joshua is back, mlm action uwu, consensual recordings of sex, jeonghan and joshua are into cucking, dom jeonghan, dom joshua, subby reader, dirty talk, corruption kink, pegging, sort of somnophiliac activities, praise and degradation kink, a long ass threesome, use of the word slut (lovingly), car sex, cum play, cum eating, rimming, slight sadism: face slaps, spanking. masturbation, blowjobs, anal sex, rimming, double penetration, cumming on skin, edging. pet names: baby, bunny, princess, filthy girl, good girl, sweetheart (hers) baby, babe, good boy (jihan) ✮ author's note: hi hi hi hi there everyone! just here with the usual note to indicate that instances where the words Bunny, Princess, or Baby are capitalized, are meant to signify Y/N, ok? ok. ty Baby (●'◡'●) ✮ author's note pt. 2: this is not proofread. i apologize in advance. ✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part v

The elevator doors parted with a soft ding. Joshua stepped out, walking down the hallway on the floor he used to live in long ago. He stopped in front of your apartment door, breathing in slowly to calm the tightness in his chest. Bringing a hand up, he knocked three times and waited.

In his hand, he held a bottle of red wine. Joshua did not even know if the dinner went along with it. He preferred whisky. But he would let it slide, for tonight.

The door opened. “Ah, Joshuji! Welcome back!” his best friend chanted, instantly bringing him to a hug. “What’s this?” Jeonghan grabbed the bottle of wine, pretending to read the label. “I don’t know anything about wines.”

“Me neither,” Joshua replied dryly, looking at the interior space. Everything was tidied, his noise amplifiers had been removed and, in their place, stood a bookshelf with your first books displayed. He noticed; that those looked like the books you wrote before you met him.

“Wait here, let me go get her. I think she was taking a nap but, she’s so excited,” Jeonghan said briefly, settling the bottle of wine on the table and turning to the bedroom. “Baby! Wake up, there’s a surprise for you!”

The bookshelf also hosted a pair of pictures of you, one where Jeonghan was kissing your cheek. Before he could see the other one, his best friend came back, the thing in his chest hugged his heart even harder. You were striding close behind Jeonghan, your hand wrapped in his.

“Hi, Joshua,” you meekly stuck your hand out to him. “Jeonghan has told me about you,” a smile painted your pretty face. “Nice to meet you.”

The thing in his chest burst, making him freeze right there and then. Before he could control his body, his hand was reaching yours, in a handshake. The softness of your fingers. It felt right, it was you. You. His Bunny.

“Nice to meet you too,” he forced out.

A sharp intake of breath snapped him back to life. Sitting up in the bed, his senses were catching up. His hand palmed the bed, the spot beside him.

Only to find it vacant. You were not there; this was not your bed. He sat alone in a hotel room.

Joshua let out a breath, bringing his hands to rub his face, trying to calm himself down. He sniffed quietly, trying to hold back the pain throbbing inside his chest.

He searched for his phone in the dark, squinting at the light coming from the screen as he searched for your name. The last text message from you read, Going to bed. I love you! It was sent two hours ago. There was no reply from him.

His thumb trembled slightly before he pressed on the call button. But he held in his breath and pressed the phone to his ear. He still felt hazy, with the last slivers of his nightmare clawing into the back of his head.

“Hello?” he mumbled as soon as he noticed you picked up his call.

“Hi baby,” you replied sluggishly.

“I’m sorry,” he dropped his head slightly. “I’m waking you up.”

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice went up slightly.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he replied, the thing in his chest stammered painfully.

“Is everything okay, Josh? You sound off,” you pointed, and he could almost picture the frown in your face.

“Yeah, baby, everything’s okay,” he replied, a low rasp from the feeling coiling in his throat made his tone sound unsure. “I just miss you terribly.”

You could tell that those last words made his voice thicker. “I miss you too, baby,” you replied sweetly. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Next week, baby, I promise,” he whispered, rubbing the tips of his fingers on the corners of his eyes. “I’ll let you sleep now, okay?”

You paused. “Sure you’re okay, babe?”

The worry he heard in your voice soothed a part of the nasty feeling pulsating in his chest. “Yes, baby, don’t worry,” he mumbled with all of the assertiveness he could muster. “You can go back to sleep now, I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll go back to sleep, but call me tomorrow as soon as you can, please.”

“I’ll do that,” he smiled to himself, trying to picture your sleepy eyes. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Joshua,” you mumbled sweetly. “Sleep well.”

“You too, baby.”

The line went dead, and you lay your head on your fluffy pillows. After returning your phone to the nightstand, you sighed.

A hand quickly came to park on your tummy. “What’s wrong?” Jeonghan mumbled with a sleepy drawl.

“It was Joshua,” you explained faintly. “He had a nightmare.”

“Mmn, again?” Jeonghan asked, rubbing slow circles on your skin.

“He didn’t say it, but that’s what I assume.”

“But is he okay?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t sound like it,” you whispered glumly. “I’ve been trying to get him to talk these past few days, but he swears he doesn’t remember anything.”

“We’ll go see him in a few days,” he shushed, caressing your hair to uncover your face to his eyes. “Don’t worry about him right now, baby. We can’t help him from here.”

“I just don’t want him to go into hiding again,” you mumbled faintly, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck.

Jeonghan shivered slightly upon the gentle caress of your breath on his skin. “I’ll break him out of it if that’s what it takes,” he replied with certainty. “Now sleep, baby. Got a big day ahead tomorrow. We got to work.”

“Yeah…” you breathed against his neck, placing a small kiss. “Sleep.”

Joshua crafted a routine for himself. While on tour he had to learn one thing: he needed to have order. There was no room for worry, so he would not let his anxieties grow. So, he would call you everyday, although sometimes he could not get to your text messages on time, he made a rule to call you at least once a day.

He would hit the gym every chance he could get, and if there was no gym, he would go out for a run late at night, or before sunrise. Then of course, he would go to work: whether it was at a concert, or interviews, events, photoshoots…

However, there was something else happening within that routine too.

He woke up with a start, snapping his eyes open and sighed with frustration at the loud alarm vibrating beneath his pillow. He shut the high-pitched sound at once, letting his face sink onto the white fluffy pillows with a tired groan.

As he stretched out his limbs underneath the bed sheets, he turned over rubbing his eyes with the back of his knuckles.

Another sigh, he unlocked his phone, checking his schedule for the day, verifying he had three hours until his first activity. Then he moved onto checking the messages he had not attended to, discarding mentally those that seemed unimportant and pressing a thumb over your name.

Call me as soon as you can, please. I love you. Your message read. It was sent a couple of minutes after the phone call last night. If he called you right now, he would wake you up again. He could call you later.

The pad of his thumb slid up, swiftly finding the app where you shared a folder with him, and with Jeonghan. His heart banged against his chest. Is it normal to be this excited so early in the morning?

There were new files added to the secret folder that Jeonghan created a little less than a month ago. Lately, he had been getting a new video more regularly. Joshua wondered why the first few weeks of him going away he did not get anything.

But now, it seemed to him that you and Jeonghan had found a way to keep him updated… and busy. This was his routine. Wake up, check for new messages, watch your videos, work, come back to the hotel, call you, rewatch videos, sleep.

Now, he never considered himself a person that would watch porn. Not regularly, not even by mistake. Not because he did not like it. But because if he wanted to get his hands dirty, he would do so with someone who would have him. He was not interested in watching porn when he could do the real thing with someone.

But watching you like this changed his view in so many ways. He found out that he was wrong for thinking porn was not for people like him.

When he asked Jeonghan and you to keep him updated, he did it purely because he did not want to be left out. He knew he would miss seeing this side of you, so that was one of his conditions.

Joshua also found out, how well Jeonghan knew him.

He always begun his morning by watching one video Jeonghan recorded of you. The angle was perfect, it captured your body lying on the bed, so he could see perfectly from your hips to your face. Jeonghan’s hand pressed a toy to your wet pussy, pleasuring you without letting you stop for air.

“Jeonghan, please,” you whined, teary eyed, hands clutching the towel beneath your body.

“Please, what?” he asked, his voice low and almost aloof, much as if he were also caught up by the faces you made, and the sounds escaping your glossy lips.

“F-fuck me, just fuck me,” you cried out, your face scrunching as you moaned lewdly, thighs shaking uncontrollably. “Please…”

“Why should I?” he retorted. “Aren’t you enjoying this, baby? You’ve came five… how many times already?”

“Se-seven,” you mumbled shamefully, twitching on the bed.

Jeonghan pressed his finger on one of the tiny buttons of the vibrator he was holding against your clit. “Eight makes a nice number, don’t you think?” he asked.

Joshua hated that he knew by the tone alone that Jeonghan was wearing a smirk behind the camera. He knew his best friend so well that he had learned all his gimmicks. The vibrator went faster, teasing your engorged clit mercilessly.

“G-god, Hannie,” you gritted your teeth, closing your eyes tightly. “I’m coming, fuck, fuck, I’m g-gonna come.”

You stirred your back on the bed, sinking the back of your head on the pillow as you came, moaning loudly and so very lewdly. “Fuck, you’re squirting again, baby,” Jeonghan sighed, capturing your climax on camera.

“Please, no more,” you whined, teary eyed and panting. “I just need you, please, please.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan muttered, turning off the vibrator and tossing it aside.

But the video did not stop there. Jeonghan moved the phone closer between your legs, making sure Joshua saw your puffy clit, slick in your arousal, Jeonghan’s fingers slid between your folds, a string of arousal stretching between them.

Joshua’s cock stirred beneath his boxers, and he begun palming himself upon the sight of your messy cunt, the arousal dripping down the wet towel beneath you. The fingers spread your folds open, as you clenched around nothing with the aftershocks of the orgasm that forced through you.

The next video was one of his favorites.

It seemed to him that you barely had the chance to set up your phone camera pointing to you. You and Jeonghan were both sitting on the small couch of your office, you were facing the camera, your back pressed to Jeonghan’s chest.

Joshua liked to think that you chose this position so he could see your face. And it was probably the case. He stroked his cock with one hand, blood rushing to the tip as he spread his own precum all over it.

On this video, you were sitting on Jeonghan, riding him fast. You leaned back slightly so the camera perfectly captured you bouncing up and down Jeonghan’s dick. Your moans are quiet... until they were not when Jeonghan’s fingers came to the view, slipping between your pussy lips, rubbing your clit with fast swirls.

You came on top of him, clutching your thighs with your hands. Writhing, but you continued riding him, a moan escaping Joshua when Jeonghan’s cum dripped down his dick, as you continue fucking yourself on him.

Joshua swipes a finger onto the next video, where you are on all fours while Jeonghan fucks you from behind. He pumped himself faster, watching you come on Jeonghan’s cock over and over as he comes in his own hand.

Jeonghan fucks you as though he were having fun, when he fucks you, he does so playfully. There is a smile on his face as he grabs your ass, fucking you down his cock. The features of his beautiful face are riddled by bliss and pleasure, his throat bobs as he moans.

Every time Joshua watches this, he wishes he were in Jeonghan’s place; feeling you squeeze around him, your warmth wrapping him. But sometimes, if he dared to admit it, he enjoys watching his best friend’s face as he comes with you.

Joshua sent a glance down his lower abdomen, a few beads of cum splayed on his skin. But he ignored it, swiping again on the screen to take a look at the new video Jeonghan uploaded.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” Joshua muttered under his breath.

The video was inside Jeonghan’s car. The phone was mounted on the dashboard, capturing both Jeonghan at the wheel, and you on the passenger seat. Jeonghan was stroking your hair as you were leaning over to him, taking his cock in your mouth.

Jeonghan let out a breath through his teeth. “Fuck,” he gritted, letting his head fall back on the headrest of his seat.

You bobbed your head slowly on him, probably on his command so he did not come too fast.

Something you did with your mouth made Jeonghan laugh. “Fuck, baby, stop doing that or I might come too soon. We’re almost there.”

The lighting inside the car changed, quickly surrounding yourselves by an enclosed space that Joshua quickly assumed was an underground parking lot.

Jeonghan gripped the steering wheel tighter, biting his lower lip as he managed to park the car in a spot, shutting the engine off swiftly.

You lifted your head from his crotch, darting a shy glance around you before clicking your seat belt off. “Move your seat back,” you urged, palming his thigh suggestively.

Joshua was surprised to see you take the light slap Jeonghan gave you on one cheek. “Don’t boss me around,” he used the same hand to cup your chin, squeezing your cheeks to then kiss you chastely.

But he did what you asked anyway, pushing his seat back as you shifted onto your knees on his sides. You moved your hair to one shoulder, uncovering your face to the camera as you leaned over to continue sucking his dick.

Joshua continued watching, languidly playing with his cock as the blood rushed again to the head, growing harder and harder. He encircled his shaft with his fist, pumping himself to full hardness, groaning under his breath as Jeonghan brought a hand down on your ass, spanking you firmly.

Jeonghan drew in a breath, stretching his back in an attempt to resist the pleasure building up inside him. “Fuck, you’re so good at this, baby,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly.

Joshua rolled his hand on his own cock, pumping fast as he remembered how good your pretty mouth feels when you pleasure him; he imagined he was there instead of Jeonghan. You whimpered on Jeonghan’s cock, making him moan as he gathered your hair with his hands, following the movements of your head on him.

“Why don’t we show Joshuji what you’re wearing, baby?” Jeonghan asked, his voice was already turning raspy in wanton.

Joshua’s heart stammered upon hearing his own name being voiced by Jeonghan on the video. This occurred with frequency, and he knew this was Jeonghan's way to taunt him, even through videos.

You paused, pulling off his cock to nod with your head. “Yes, Hannie,” you replied sweetly, but leaned down to continue blowing him off.

“You’re so fucking needy you couldn’t wait till we got home to show him,” Jeonghan rasped, keeping a hand on your hair as he used the other to hike your black mini skirt up, revealing an equally black string thong and stockings.

Joshua shifted his gaze from the side of your face to Jeonghan’s hand caressing your ass gently, pausing to give you a playful spank to make you moan.

Jeonghan sighed, closing his eyes in enjoyment. “Fuck, baby. I need you now,” he urged, releasing your hair.

You stopped sucking him off, pushing yourself from your seat and crawling onto Jeonghan’s lap, clumsily straddling him on his seat. Jeonghan reclined the seat back, making you giggle shyly in the heat of the rushed moment.

Joshua felt disappointed now that he could not get a view on your face. But the feeling was quickly replaced when Jeonghan hiked your skirt up again, uncovering your ass to the camera. Then he understood why he had not seen that thong on you before; it was one of those that left your pussy uncovered completely.

Joshua got a clear view of your hand guiding Jeonghan’s cockhead to your entrance, hearing your whimpers as you sank down on his cock, moving your pretty ass slowly, as though adjusting yourself on him.

“God,” you whimpered, dropping your head on his shoulder as you bounced on Jeonghan gently at first.

Joshua moaned deeply. All focus was on the sight of Jeonghan’s cock disappearing inside your pussy. You were picking up the pace, cupping one of his cheeks to bring him into a kiss to muffle your sweet moans.

“Are you enjoying this?” Jeonghan asked longingly looking at the features of your face.

“Yes Hannie,” you nodded dazedly.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he murmured, a light smirk painting his face. “You should’ve told me you wanted to fuck in my car sooner.”

It was the first time you had sex in a car, and it was even more exciting than when you first brought it up to Jeonghan. You and Jeonghan had been playing a game of chasing new first times, together.

Ever since he took you in a dressing room of a clothing store, an idea sparked in your head. And now, you were there, in his car, grinding on him.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Jeonghan sighed in pure pleasure, his hands gripping your waist over your skirt. “I need you to come now, princess.”

“I-,” you choked out, and Joshua could hear the shyness in your tone. “I can’t, Hannie. I’m a little sensitive.”

“But you were begging to have my cock last night,” he rasped, a lazy smile drawing on his face.

“Hannie,” you gasped aghast, but Joshua noticed how your hips stuttered.

“What? Don’t you want Josh to know? How you couldn’t stop bouncing this little pussy on me last night?” he asked, but his tone sounded even more gruff and airy. Joshua knew by the tone alone that he was closer.

“Hannie,” you cried reproachful.

“Your pretty pussy needs to be filled everyday, right baby?” he looked at you languidly. “Come, baby,” he rasped. “Be a good slut for me.”

It seemed to Joshua that in his time away, his best friend had just discovered how much you liked to be talked filth. You nodded frantically, riding him faster.

“G-god, just like that,” Jeonghan grunted blissfully, gripping your waist tighter, hiking the skirt up your back, so Joshua could see the recoil of your ass on Jeonghan’s thighs every time you sank down on him.

Joshua moaned, unable to yank his gaze from the screen. You were riding him faster, eagerly. Jeonghan smiled playfully at you, sighing in pure pleasure.

“Jeonghan,” you whimpered, rolling your hips on his dick with full desperation. “Hannie, I’m close. God, I’m so close.”

“Yes, c-come on my cock, baby,” Jeonghan replied, evidently enjoying how pathetic you were being. His arms encircled your waist hugging you as you hid your face flush on his shoulder. “God, god, princess.”

“Hannie…” you cried out lewdly on his neck, your hands holding onto his shirt for dear life. His arms held you tighter, sighing out a strangled moan as he came with you.

“You’re so good for me,” Jeonghan muttered gruffly, clearly spent. “So good.”

You stopped riding him languidly, his hands now moving on your sides to push your hips up, spreading your pussy lips with his hands as his cum started dripping out of your entrance.

Joshua clenched his jaw, groaning deeply as ropes of cum landed on his fist, closing his eyes so tightly he saw stars. The video was cut there, and he stared at it as he panted, trying to recover and process how much he had liked seeing Jeonghan’s cum dripping out of your used hole.

He threw his phone aside, languidly letting his arms rest for some seconds before he rose from the bed, going directly to start the shower. Standing under the warm shower stream, a thought crossed his mind.

It had seemed as though you and Jeonghan were cruising some kind of honeymoon stage. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, you looked in love. And he knew his best friend for long enough to know that he was head over heels for you too.

The only thing he hated though, was that he was not as present in your life.

He came back to the bedroom to find his phone vibrating on the mattress, and he picked it up after reading your name on the screen. As he took the phone to his ear, he stopped at in surprise at the sight of your face, understanding it was a video call.

“Hi, handsome,” you smiled, clearly noticing that he had thought you were phone calling him. You were still in bed, bundled up in blankets, an arm tucked under your head.

“Oh, hi beautiful,” he replied in kind, his hair dripping wet on his shoulders.

“Did I catch you in a wrong time?” you asked, looking at his naked collarbones covered in droplets of water.

“No, baby. It’s fine, I was about to get ready for my day,” he shrugged lightly and looked for a place to prop his phone so he could get dressed.

“Hannie is here,” you mentioned as Joshua placed his phone against the lamp on the bedside table.

Jeonghan lifted his head from the pillow beside yours. “Hi, Joshuji,” he chanted groggily.

“Hi, Jeonghannie,” he replied with a light smile on his face. The image of you and Jeonghan in bed was not strange to him, as that also formed part of his routine sometimes. “Did you guys just wake up?” he asked, turning to fish a pair of clean boxers from his bag.

“Yeah, like two minutes ago,” Jeonghan groaned with clear annoyance that you were already on your phone video calling Joshua.

You giggled meekly. “Don’t get grumpy,” you teased as the man shifted from his pillow to your chest, getting comfortable on top of your body.

“You don’t let me sleep, so you’ll suffer my grumpiness,” Jeonghan muttered, closing his eyes. “How are you doing, Joshuji? You look tired.”

“I am tired,” he said.

“You have bags under your eyes,” Jeonghan added with a slight mischievous smirk.

“Shut up,” he hissed, feeling his own lips stretching into a smile as well. “You look pale and wrinkly.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” his best friend retorted. “Maybe you should take some days off.”

“Stop it, you two,” you huffed, and Joshua giggled bemusedly at your annoyed face.

“Did you watch the videos?” Jeonghan lifted his head only to blurt out that question, you rolled your eyes at him.

“I did,” Joshua coughed out a dry chuckle. “You two have been really busy.”

He stared squarely at the screen of his phone for a second before unwrapping the towel from his waist, trying to ignore that both you and Jeonghan would see him putting on his boxers.

“Ah, a little warning next time!” Jeonghan grumbled, turning his head on your chest as you chuckled.

Chewing on your lower lip to avoid smiling wider you placed a hand on the back of Jeonghan’s head. “Are you busy today, Josh?” you asked sweetly.

Joshua could not help but smiling at the sight of you being soft with both him and Jeonghan at the same time. A warm feeling bloomed inside him. “Yeah,” he replied to your question with a sigh, fetching a t-shirt as he put it on. “I have a packed schedule today. We have to shoot a couple of interviews back-to-back. But then I’ll have a whole day to myself.”

Your fingers started playing with Jeonghan’s long dark hair. “Mmn, you should come straight back here,” you murmured softly.

“I’d love that, baby,” he replied in kind, pouting at you before giving you a smile. “I guess I could grab the earliest flight after I’m done,” he said, following your game.

You knew this was nearly impossible. Not only did Joshua had a ton of activities to do to promote his new album, but you knew how much money it was put towards transportation. Flights were expensive.

But Jeonghan turned his head over, sneaking a look back on the screen. “Our flight is in six days; we could do something.”

Joshua saw in his eyes that he had started to plan but looked at you and then back at him. “Yeah, probably. I’ll check,” Joshua said with a dismissive air, but kept looking at his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, you do that,” Jeonghan replied, but sent him a meaningful look.

“Right,” he sighed. “I gotta go, baby. I’ll call you later tonight,” he paused. “Bye, Jeonghannie.”

“Bye, Josh,” you mumbled sweetly, giving him a sad smile. “Love you.”

“I love you,” he replied.

“Love you, Shujiii,” Jeonghan chanted mockingly, grabbing the phone from your hand and ended the call.

“This color suits you.”

Joshua looked at the woman in front of him. She was young, the bright glimmer in her eyes told him that much. Her long dark hair was draped on her shoulders, covered with a nice pink blouse that was just adorned with a microphone.

“Thank you,” he replied, mustering up a kind smile.

“Where are the others?” she asked, looking around him.

“They’re getting their makeup done. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes,” he looked at his watch.

“Oh, cool. That gives me time to reread my questions,” she showed him a smirk, looking up and down her cards and then back to his eyes.

If Joshua meant to read that smirk, he kept himself from doing so. Nodding at her politely, he just stepped back. “Okay. I’ll tell them to get ready,” he lied just to excuse himself, turning back to the dressing room.

He pulled out his phone, unlocking it to find a series of texts messages from you. You usually updated him throughout the day, whenever you felt like the chat you had together was running dry.

So he found a series of photo. First it was a photo of you coming out of bed, holding a fist at the camera in sign of motivation. Have a nice day, Joshie! Your text read. The next photo was the breakfast you made for two, though obviously one plate was for Jeonghan, Joshua found himself smiling. You had made French toast, and that alone reminded you of Joshua.

The last picture was your favorite mug, broken in pieces on the floor, coffee splashed all around it. Jeonghan scared me and I dropped my mug (┬┬﹏┬┬), the text read.

But before Joshua could reply, a member of the staff working on the production of the big company they were being interviewed by called them. They had their go.

“Come on, let’s go! Let’s go, let’s go,” Jihoon chanted over and over, more to himself than to the other two members of Midnight Haze.

“Let’s go,” Vernon replied dryly, but in his own enthusiastic way.

Joshua just nodded and went along with his two bandmates, walking through the tight space of the long hallway. He grew more and more restless as he reached the end of the hall and then the double doors.

The studio was small, and it looked even more cramped by the sound and lighting equipment, the sets of cameras surrounding the set, and the people tracking every single thing that happened during the filming of the interview.

This was not the first time Midnight Haze was interviewed. But it was certainly the first time with such a big production team. This was going to be aired on TV.

And he did not know what to expect.

A very smart PR company was going with Midnight Haze since they started touring again. But not everything was under their control, and as they grew more and more famous, people would naturally start picking them apart, piece by piece.

Needless to say, Joshua was nervous. Fidgeting with the watch on his wrist. He pushed his sleeves once more to his elbows, though pointlessly since they were rolled tight.

One man indicated each member of the band where to sit. And it was not a surprise that Joshua was told to sit diagonally to the interviewer.

Anxiety hugged his chest tightly, but he tried to push it down, swallowing hard and resting his palms on his lap.

“Going on five… four… three…” the man motioned with his fingers, two, one. Go.

All the cameras blinked with a red light, rolling. Joshua Looked at Jihoon and Vernon sitting beside him, looking alive in excitement and nervousness.

“And we are back, and we have a new guest in the studio, Midnight Haze!” the interviewer said, Maddy, Joshua reminded himself, her name is Maddy. She went on to giving a brief introduction to the viewers.

Midnight Haze was an independent band that grew rapidly to success. Or dubbed in the media as, Overnight Success, which Joshua thought was a dumb way to call their years of hard work, years of making music, framing their style, doing their best to put themselves out there.

But the media loves crafting stories. That is their job.

“So tell us more about your album,” Maddy prompted, looking expectantly at the three men sitting in the nice velvety red couch.

Naturally, Joshua had taken the position to answer to these questions, since he was considered the leader of the band, being the eldest, and the frontman. So he just replied. “It’s our first studio album. We worked really really hard to make it, and it means a lot for us to get this opportunity to share it with the world.

The following question was about the production of the album, which Jihoon replied to, taking the opportunity to speak as well, since he was the one who was the most well-versed in talking about songwriting and production.

Vernon took the next question was about touring, and visiting new places, getting to know new things and try new foods.

And lastly, the interview took a turn, diving into questions that sounded more personal. At first, Joshua thought nothing of it since it was a natural thing for media to put them in a tight spot. It was like an experiment, dropping a bomb of a question and see how they would react, make a viral video out of it.

But then, Joshua felt that he was being mocked at.

“Joshua, you had recently gained a reputation of yourself. You’re a bit of a ladies’ man. Want to talk to us about it?” she read her cards, lowering them to her lap with some nervousness. Then eyeing the text on her card and then back to his face, she added. “The people want to know, is there a certain someone in your life?”

Joshua felt as though a hand had squeezed the air out of his lungs. “Uh, no, no there isn’t,” he replied, adding a cough to clear his throat. Then realizing how he was acting, he put in quickly. “I am a free man.”

Joshua Hong, you idiot. He gritted his teeth, throwing a forced smile at the interviewer.

“Free as the wind,” Jihoon added awkwardly, making Vernon squeeze his face into a grimace, chuckling.

“Well that is all the questions I have for you today. Thank you for coming here!” Maddy clasped her hands together, flashing them a corporate smile.

“Thank you for having us,” Joshua replied. The staff member signaled them that the recording was over, and the crew swept in, getting ready to call it a day.

Joshua jumped from the couch, wanting to rip the microphone from his clothes, but someone got to it first, removing it with care before he did something reckless.

He needed a drink.

He undid one button of his white shirt, sighing in frustration and deciding to head back to the van and wait for the guys there.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Joshua turned to see Maddy approaching him. He made sure that the mic was nowhere to be seen, but he still felt weary as he nodded.

“I’m sorry about the last question, if it felt invasive,” she muttered awkwardly, looking around her before blurting: “I didn’t write it in, I didn’t want to ask it, but the team insisted.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, though he tried to sound as understanding as possible, there was an edge to his words. “I’ll better get used to you lot and your questions, right?”

Before he could take in the hurt expression of her face, Joshua turned his back on her, heading to the van.

IS JOSHUA TELLING THE TRUTH?

That was the title to the video that had gone viral within hours. As soon as the interview went live, people started picking it apart. Some to show their true support, some for pure entertainment.

Unfortunately, the latter was the one that gained strength. In a matter of hours, Joshua started seeing a slew, of comments linking the video for him to see. And when people started messaging him, he got worried.

So he ventured on the wild river that was the internet, quickly wishing he had not done so.

The video was a mix of other pictures and videos put together. Bits and pieces of the interview where he was asked about his recent reputation, and his stiff answer were compared to what was a theory crafted by someone who called themselves a follower.

What Joshua saw made the hairs of his nape stand. Is he telling the truth? The caption to the video read. And then he saw his own face, heard his own voice deflect the rumours by saying he was single.

And then, he saw you in the video.

It was just the outline of your body, and he could barely make out your face between the shadows of the photo. He tried to figure when and where this photo was taken, growing more and more restless when he came up with nothing. One thing Joshua new, someone he did not know took this photo.

Jeonghan was in the photo as well, walking behind you, grabbing your hand. The photo framed you as Jeonghan’s girlfriend. But then, the next photo showed you as well, wearing the same outfit, Joshua entering your building with you. Is this girl Joshua’s girlfriend? That was the theory.

The video meant nothing, there could be a thousand videos put together like this. But the damning thing was that it had gained traction, and with it, people that had a million things to say.

A thing which, Joshua dreaded like nothing else.

“Isn’t this going overboard, Hannie?” you asked innocently, setting down the towel on the couch.

“Is it?” he mused, humming as he propped the tripod on the coffee table, adjusting the camera to focus on the couch, and you sitting down on it, putting your hands neatly on your lap.

“I mean you even bought a camera for this,” you muttered between your teeth.

“That’s not true, I already owned this. I did buy the tripod, though,” he pressed the record button. “Wave to the camera, baby,” he instructed softly.

“Do you think Josh will like it?” you waved at the camera aloofly as it captured your movement, adjusting to the lighting of the living room perfectly.

“Mmn, I will,” he smiled at you, rising from his knees to approach you.

You tilted your head back, looking at him with bright eyes. “I know you will, baby,” you replied cutely at him. “But I also want Josh to like it.”

Jeonghan stopped to consider the idea for a second. “I think that he’ll like it too,” he shrugged. “We’ve never talked about our preferences around porn, but I know that he likes you.”

You giggled. “Okay.”

“Ready?” he asked, pinching your chin affectionately.

“Are you?” you grinned, causing him to click his tongue. “Yes, I’m ready Hannie.”

“Lie down, baby,” he motioned to the couch with his head.

“But don’t I—,” you stopped yourself before you could ask. “Mmf,” you hummed as you moved lying your head down on one large cushion as he pressed a knee on the couch, then the other.

“I want to kiss you first,” he explained once his chest was pressed to yours. “Come here,” he whispered, grabbing your cheek with one hand as he captured your lips with his.

“Mmn,” you responded so well to his touch, arching your back on the seats, your fingers sinking in his dark hair, pushing it back.

“You know that I love you, right?” he muttered with a gruff tone, pressing another kiss on your lower lip.

You nodded. “And I love you, Hannie,” you replied with a sweet smile, moving your hands to meet his waist.

Jeonghan shuddered, your hands slipped under his white hoodie, caressing the skin of his tummy. His eyelids fluttered a little, just as he bent down to kiss you again. “Not so fast, princess,” he grunted in your mouth, parting so he could flash you a grin.

“Don’t I get to call the shots tonight?” you teased, sliding your hands up his torso.

Jeonghan snickered. “Not really,” he lifted his arms as you slipped the white hoodie off him, discarding it on the floor without much thought.

“But you’re letting me undress you,” you mused, receiving his face with your hands as he gave you another long, passionate kiss, lips smooching against each other as you hummed.

His hand found the zipper of your hoodie now, sliding it downwards. “Because you’re letting me undress you.”

You silently watched him as he slowly discovered that you wore nothing beneath that hoodie. He had suspected it when he arrived at your apartment but finding it out was even more exciting. “No bra?” he smirked when you just nodded with a sheepish grin. “Is this the same case for your panties too?” he nodded at your short pajamas.

“No, Hannie,” you giggled at his question. The sound bubbly and full of joy.

His ears perked up at this. “Are you nervous?”

“Of course I am,” you cooed, brushing a rebellious strand of hair that tangled with his long eyelashes.

“Don’t be,” he muttered. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

“I want you to like it, Hannie,” you explained, your smile fading slowly as you gave in fully to the reason of your uncertainty.

“Don’t worry, I’ll like it,” he pressed his lips in a reassuring smile.

“Because you like me?” you quipped, referring back to what he had said about Joshua.

“Ah, but this is different,” he coughed up a chuckle. “You’re the one who’s going to, how did you put it?” he tilted his head with a dramatic pause. “Fuck me?”

That made the giggle return, brightening your face. “Hannie!” you said, pushing his shoulder a little.

“You will do all the work, I’m just going to tell you how,” he shrugged slightly, given that his arm was still pressed on the couch, propping his weight.

Your smile faded once again, your eyes getting lost in the features of his beautiful face.

“What?” he noticed. “Are you starting to regret this, baby?”

“No, no,” you choked out. “I’m just—I wanna do this now,” you nodded.

“Slow down, princess,” he reminded you with a soft tone, leaning his face so he could meet your lips with his. “There’s no need to rush.”

“But I want to make you feel good,” you whispered shakily in between kisses. “Please.”

He let a soft breath through his nose. The pressure wrapping his heart was overwhelming him. “Okay,” he conceded, though it had not taken too much insisting.

You both moved on the couch, so he was now the one lying down, with you sitting on top of him. His hands reached out to grab the sides of your zip hoodie, tugging the sleeves clumsily to get them off you. You backed up, helping him take your hoodie off and dropped it on top of Jeonghan’s.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he gasped, grabbing you by your waist as you leaned over to litter his face and neck with kisses.

“Thank you, Hannie,” you mumbled with a sigh, his hands were sliding up the line of your back, causing you to shiver. “You-you’re beautiful too.”

Jeonghan giggled. “Thanks, babe.”

You were creating a trail of kisses, starting first with his neck. He had a prominent Adam’s apple, which you kissed and adorned with a small hickey. Jeonghan tensed as you suckled on his skin, closing his eyes, and letting his mouth part.

You had never really marked him before, not because you had not wanted to, but because he would not let you. It was a game of his: not letting you touch him or pull his hair during sex, that also included hickeys.

But he was a different man now. Fully committed to you. It may be silly, but to you it seemed fair.

“Baby,” he breathed languidly, focusing on your lips on his skin only. He felt himself start to grow harder under his sweats.

“Mn?” you darted a look at him, only to find him peacefully enjoying your mouth on him.

“Keep going,” he muttered.

You smiled at him, which he did not see. But you lowered your head again, raking his chest with your fingernails as you suckled a lovebite on one of his collarbones.

It was as if the roles were reversed. You were usually the one pleading him to keep going, to go harder or faster. But in reality, you were still waiting for his command, following it with no second thought.

Slowly, you had created a small trail of red spots that led below his belly button, where he was strangely sensitive as your fingertips grazed his skin before slipping them beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

“Shit,” he whispered as you delivered another red mark on the soft hairs of his happy trail.

“You’re a bit sensitive down here, aren’t you?” you teased with a small grin.

“Shut up,” he groaned, opening his eyes to find you straightening up to tug his sweats boxers down.

You laughed at his annoyance as he pushed his hips up, letting you tug his navy-blue boxers and black sweats down, discarding his warm clothes on the floor.

You got to work at once, sitting on your knees between his legs. “Can I suck you off, Hannie?”

It was a question that he did not need to reply to. As your hand circled his shaft, he nodded, swallowing hard as you pumped him a few times, getting the tip to swell and redden with arousal rushing fast to it.

“Yeah, please do,” he murmured faintly, tipping his head back on the cushion as you pressed a kiss on his pretty cockhead.

“Hmm,” you breathed, wrapping your mouth around it, tasting the salty precum leaking from the slit. “Have I ever told you that I think your cock is pretty?”

Jeonghan started chuckling, chest vibrating with the sound of it. “That was the first thing you said when you looked at it, baby,” he remarked, reminiscing of the first night you saw him naked.

“Mn, I think it’s pretty,” you nodded aloofly, pumping him on his base as you leaned your head to take him back into your mouth.

“All yours,” he whispered, parting his lips in pleasure as you bobbed your head on him, sliding your mouth on his cock. “God, you’re so good at this.”

All he heard was a muffled laugh. His hands grabbed your hair, eyes shut tightly as you continued to give him head him eagerly, slurping sounds coming from your mouth as you sucked him off as if your life depended on it. Your tongue swirled around his cockhead, sucking his length every time you pulled your head up.

“Fuck, fuck,” he gritted, seeing stars. “Baby, stop—stop. I don’t wanna come so soon.”

You pulled out of his cock a second after his rushed pleas came out of his mouth, looking at him wide eyed as he breathed hard. His fingers slipped off your hair, hands falling on his sides languidly as he eyed you meekly.

“All good?” you whispered.

He nodded with his head on the large cushion. “Yeah,” his mouth slowly stretched in a smile. “All good.”

You leaned over his body when his hand reached out to grab you, cupping your cheek as you met his lips with your own. You moaned into the kiss when his tongue swiftly swiped a line on your lower lip, finding your tongue with a moan on his part.

“Are you wet, baby?” he asked, his voice thickened with arousal.

“Don’t you want to find that out?” you smirked playfully at him.

“Tsk,” he tutted. “You’re bratty today.”

But you giggled in triumph when his hand sneaked down your lower tummy, past the band of your pajama shorts and panties to cup your pussy, feeling the warmth and wetness pooling in there.

“Princess, you’re soaked,” he gasped, feeling your panties damp against the back of his fingers. “Do you enjoy sucking me off that much?”

You stole a kiss nodding at him, a moan escaping between your lips when he dipped a finger inside your entrance, followed by another.

“Mm, baby, I want to feel you right now,” he purred in your mouth, pumping his fingers in and out, but doing it teasingly, knowing that it would get you nowhere near your climax.

“Oh, y-yes, Hannie,” you curled up against him, pushing your hips towards his hand, trying to get him to reach the spot in your walls you liked him to finger so much. You pushed your pajama shorts down to your knees, tugging your panties down as well in eagerness.

Jeonghan smiled, seeing that you were so distracted by your newfound pleasure that you forgot what the plan was initially. “So you don’t want to fuck me anymore?” he teased playfully, conscious of the word choice he was using.

Your eyes fluttered open, a light frown appearing on your face. “No—I still want to.”

You clumsily stepped out of your pajama shorts and your ruined panties, discarding them also with the rest of the clothes on the floor. Now, you were both fully unclothed and ready for each other.

Your cheeks were painted with heat, lips glossy and puckered as you sneaked a kiss on Jeonghan’s lips. “Tell me what to do?” you muttered, your tone quivering but still managing to sound cute to his ears.

“Relax,” he instructed first, squeezing your hip fondly. “Grab the bottle of lube, Princess,” he told you softly, and you reached back for the bottle of lube that you almost forgot on the coffee table, taking the freedom to also grab the toy sitting beside it.

Jeonghan pushed one knee up, the sole of his foot still planted on the couch as you scooted closer between his legs. “Remember how we do this, baby?” he called, making you yank your gaze from his naked body splayed on the couch and found his eyes.

It took you a second to understand what he was implying. You gulped hard, nodding quietly as the memory of Joshua fucking your ass flashed through your mind. Or the times when Jeonghan fucked you from behind, his fingers playing with your puckered hole, while shoving his cock in your pussy.

The bottle of lube emitted a soft clicking noise when you opened it. Reminding yourself to breathe, you spread the cold lube on the pads of your fingers, trying to rub them together as you leaned over towards Jeonghan. You kissed him softly at first, his hands roaming all over your body made you moan into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

Your fingers trailed down, heart beating faster inside you when Jeonghan adjusted his hips for you, making it easier to find the path down his shaft. A shudder ran down your spine when you sneaked a look down his body, finding out how hard his cock was, precum leaking out of the tip and falling on his skin.

Beneath your nervousness, you found a reason to smile at him. “Have I ever told you that I think you have a cute ass?”

“I would remember something like that,” he giggled, his perfect set of teeth.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss on his teeth. “You have a cute ass, Jeonghan,” you mumbled.

“It’s funny because I don’t have any,” he mumbled, groaning quietly when your fingers make their way down the shaft of his cock, grazing his ball sack with the back of your fingers. “Joshua has a cuter ass. It’s rounder than mine.”

You laughed at his statement, uttered in a rush. “How do you know?” you retorted. The pads of your fingers pushed down on his puckered hole, gently at first, tentative.

A small grunt escaped his lips, his body tensing slightly on the couch. “It’s okay, keep going,” he put in gently, closing his eyes briefly. “It’s just cold,” he smiled shyly. “Oh, I know,” he sent his gaze to the ceiling. “Shua use to let me use it as a stress ball sometimes.”

“Really?” you mumbled, outlining his features with your gaze. Enjoying the dazed look in his eyes. “What changed?” you asked, pressing kisses on his lips as you pushed your finger in, feeling his muscles relax and contract around you.

“Well, you came along. And here we are now.”

“Here we are,” you grinned, pushing the tip of your finger further in. “Hannie?”

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re good,” he showed you a smile.

That emboldened you to keep going.

“You can use two now,” he mumbled, grabbing you by your hip, clenching your skin softly.

You recalled all those times Joshua used his fingers to prep you, a wave of arousal coursing through your body when you saw Jeonghan swallow a moan, when your lubed fingers went further in a bit, spreading him open gently. You remembered how it felt like, and you felt like moaning too.

“More,” he rasped, closing his eyes, a soft sigh brushing your lips.

Your body grew tense with excitement when you saw him bite his lower lip. His hand shifted on your hip, finding your tits to knead, his thumbs brushing your nipples, swirling the pads around them, getting them hard.

“Hannie,” you mewled, shuddering against his touch. Your skin prickled, he fiddled your nipples between his pointer and middle fingers, palming your breasts with a low hum from his part.

“Use the toy now,” he instructed, giving you a slight nod with his head in reassurance.

You bristled with anticipation, sitting back on your heels to grab the toy with one hand and the bottle of lube with the other. “Should I put it on first?” you asked innocently, looking at the double ended toy that allows you to feel pleasure as well.

“If you want to, baby,” he said.

You decided to do something before putting it on yourself. Smearing some lube on your hand, you lubed the dildo up, sneaking a look at your boyfriend as he noticed your shaking fingers.

“Relax, baby,” he reminded you. “I’m going to like it.”

Jeonghan tilted his hips for you, sucking in a breath when you used your lubed fingers to spread him open. His own hand coming in to help you as you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered hole.

Glancing up his face and down his body, you continued to push in, slowly, shallowly thrusting the toy as his mouth fell open, his eyelids fluttering as he closed them with a small sigh. You retracted the toy using more lube with your fingers to thrust another inch in, slowly.

“Fuck, baby,” he chocked out his hand snapping to grab your wrist. His eyes were blown wide with lust. “Put it on, now,” he commanded.

You nodded silently, pulling out the toy gently as he reached out to grab the remote controller from the coffee table. “Wait, Hannie, are you sure?” you asked, the toy flashing a single led light, ready to be used.

“Yeah,” he replied shortly. “I need you to feel it too.”

The end that you were using was a smaller vibrator that attached itself to the dildo with a magnet, that way you did not have to use a harness and were able to feel pleasure too. Jeonghan took the vibrator from you, realizing that he also had spread lube on his fingers and pushed himself from the cushions of the couch to press the pads of his fingers against your pussy.

“Hannie!” you flinched, surprised that in seconds he had moved that fast.

“I need you right now,” he explained with a gruffy edge on his tone, his fingers rubbing lube on your messy cunt.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry,” you squirmed, as he sent you a look before nudging the tip of the smaller vibrator on your entrance.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, pushing in the vibrator inside you. It was bulbous but designed to lodge itself inside your walls. “Ready?”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded nervously, leaning your body over as he lied down again. You bit your lower lip, nudging the tip of the larger vibrator against his hole, feeling emboldened by the reassuring look he sent you.

“God, fuck,” Jeonghan gasped, his body tensing on the couch as you inserted the vibrator by pushing your hips towards his, thrusting shallowly, and clumsily. “Fuck, k-keep going, baby.”

Jeonghan took one big gulp of air, and you mimicked the action unknowingly right before you retracted your hips, a hand flying to hold onto his thigh as you met his hips with your own, penetrating him fully.

“God, princess,” he groaned languidly, jaws tightly clenching together as his face contracted in pleasure.

“You okay?” you mumbled, eyeing his finger on the remote.

“Yes, baby,” he smiled, finding your worry endearing.

“I just—fuck, Jeonghan!” you screamed at him when the vibrator inside you came to life, sending strong pulsations on your walls, on that glorious spot it was lodged in. “Warn me next time!”

“There she is,” he muttered, biting the tip of his tongue as he too relished at the feeling of the vibrations running inside him. He patted your hip with one hand. “Move, baby, I need you.”

Your other hand found his hip, as you retreated yours to meet right back in, swaying them gently, pushing the vibrator to massage him slowly at first. You moaned, feeling the toy work its miracle inside you as it was inside him.

But his face was a complete mirage, he was biting his lower lip, his half-lidded eyes on you the whole time as you thrusted your hips against him. It was hard to find a pace you could keep, you felt stiff and clumsy. But once Jeonghan’s mouth parted, giving way a series of sweet moans, you found your goal to elicit more sounds from him.

Your hands found his thigh, wordlessly motioning to lift it, pressing it against his chest. Another raunchy moan came out of his lips as you moved your hips on him faster, making him grab your ass to follow the motion of your thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned lewdly, his voice thick with arousal. “Princess, touch me, please.”

You frowned before you sent a look down his body. Your fingers circled his hard cock, pumping him at the same pace your hips were meeting his. His moans became louder, harder to control as he shut his eyes tightly. “Right there, baby,” he rasped, his eyes teary.

“Oh, Hannie,” you moaned, hips rutting against him desperately, the vibrator pulsating inside you harder every time you hit your hips clashed with his. His face, riddled with pleasure made it impossible for you to hold it any longer.

“God, baby,” he gasped, his eyebrows drawn in. “I’m g-gonna come,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a long second.

And then he started making the sweetest, rawest sounds you have ever heard in your life, his lower lip was trapped behind his teeth, moans coiling in his throat as you fucked him through his high. Ropes of cum spurted from his tip, landing on his tummy, and just kept leaking, eliciting a moan from you.

You looked at your fist, the back of your fingers coated with Jeonghan’s cum. “Baby,” you gasped, realizing that he was still heaving. “Okay?”

Jeonghan chuckled lazily. “Princess, I swear,” he drawled. “That was amazing,” he said with a long sigh.

You giggled cutely at his face, relaxed with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “Let me go get something to clean you up,” you muttered, using your hand on his hip for support as you retracted your hips back.

He moaned, shuddering when you carefully pulled out the toy from him. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, resting his head back on the cushions.

The living room was even quieter when you returned, thinking that Jeonghan might have fallen asleep as you went to the bathroom to wash your hands and to get wet hand towel.

But no, his head turned to follow your movements with his gaze, he had been waiting for you starting at the ceiling.

You decided to straddle him, sitting on his thighs comfortably to wipe the cum from his tummy with gentle motions. “So,” you started, a smile playing on your lips. “You’ve grabbed Joshua’s ass?”

Jeonghan let out a breathy chuckle, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “Ah, I should’ve known you wouldn’t let that go.”

“Answer my question,” you quipped.

“Yeah, I have. Why is that important?” he rumbled, sending a look to the camera that was still rolling.

You followed his gaze, finding the blinking red light of the device. “What, you don’t want this recorded?” he gave you a look. “Why? You could always cut it out,” you shrugged.

“It’s going to be a bitch to edit,” he sighed heavily. “You know what, fuck it. Yes, I used to have a crush on him.”

The shock upon hearing that was like nothing else. “Used to?” you raised your eyebrows.

“Long ago, baby,” he rolled his eyes. “Like waaaay before he met you.”

“Does Joshua know?” you asked at once, heartbeat stammering hard and fast against your chest.

“Does he…” he repeated, dumbfounded. His frown eased. “Of course he knows, baby. I told him. Besides, he already suspected it when we talked about it.”

“He did?” you gaped at him. “Well, you were either too open about it or he was exceptionally good at noticing.”

“Yeah, okay, it wasn’t just a crush,” he rolled his eyes, chuckling dryly with an awkward air surrounding him as he caressed your thighs. “I liked him quite a lot. It was embarrassing.”

“Why embarrassing?” you giggled sweetly. “Hannie, why did you never tell me this?”

“For obvious reasons,” he replied. “It happened long ago, baby. It doesn’t even matter now.”

Bewildered, you huffed. To think that Jeonghan has had feelings for you and Joshua was something that would take you a little bit of time to digest.

“So what happened?” you pried even more. “When you talked about it, how did Joshua react?”

Jeonghan pouted, humming in thought. “It’s simpler than you think, baby. I trust him, and he trusts me. I told him that I liked him, he told me nothing would happen between us. So I put a stop to what I felt, and never risked losing him as a friend again…”

Until you came along, the words were not said, but they echoed between you and him.

“You put a stop to what you felt?” you echoed confusedly.

“I did. I forgot about it eventually. If you’re thinking that I still have feelings for him, I don’t,” he chuckled dryly. “If that wasn’t obvious already…”

“It’s not obvious, Hannie,” you retorted. “I mean, you’ve had sex with him–I mean, not with him, but with me while he’s there too. That doesn’t make you think that you might still have a crush on him?”

“No,” he replied at once. “That happened long ago, and it was for a brief time, baby.”

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged, shyly looking at him. “You know? You’re in a relationship with me and him, in a way…”

“Yeah, I know how it looks. And yes, it is weird at times, but he’s still my best friend,” he brushed the back of his finger down your cheek. “I love you, and I’m happy being with you.”

You smiled, leaning to press a sweet kiss on his lips. “I love you too, Hannie.”

“So what’s next?” he asked, his tone was still languid. “What’s next on the list?”

“Do you want more, Hannie?” you asked, teasingly.

There was no list. But when you mentioned to him you wanted to try out new things, Jeonghan wasted no time and got to work.

“Not right now,” he sighed a smile. “But I wanna know what you would like to do next.”

“Mmn, we tried pegging, car sex—”

“How come you’ve had anal sex with me, but I haven’t had anal with you?” he blurted, knowing what the bold wording would do to you.

“Hannie!” you squealed, scandalized.

“It’s just a question!” he coughed out a silly giggle.

“We could try that next,” you shrugged.

“Mm, but we could do that later,” he said, stroking one of your arms languidly. “I want to do the crazy shit. Ever had sex in a pool?”

“No, Hannie,” you giggled. “I don’t think that’s sanitary.”

“Maybe just a little fondling,” he shrugged with one shoulder.

You rolled your eyes dismissively. “Mmn,” you drew out your hum this time. “I want to do it in an open space some day,” you mumbled.

“Like in a beach, or something?” he mused.

“No–not a beach. I don’t like sand sticking to my skin,” you shuddered.

Jeonghan found that cute, and his smile made tiny dimples show on his chin. “Then where, baby? We could go camping.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered, lost in his sweet eyes. “With Josh too.”

“Of course, princess,” he conceded, wanting nothing else but to make you happy. “Now, could you stop the recording, please?” he chuckled again. “I really don’t want to cut out more footage.”

“Okay, okay,” you huffed, moving to reach out for the button to stop the recording, thinking of what Joshua’s reaction would be if he heard the conversation you just had with Jeonghan.

Joshua stood alone in the balcony of his hotel room, sitting on a dusty chair. Biting the tip of his thumb, he waited on the line for you to pick up the call.

“Hi beautiful,” he mumbled, starting to fidget with a loose thread of his sweats.

“Hi handsome!” you chirped right away.

“How are you, baby?” he sighed, heart, stammering uncontrollably in his chest.

“I’m good, I was working on my draft,” you replied, and he could tell by your tone alone that you were in a good mood.

He closed his eyes briefly. He could not do this to you.

“That sounds good,” he replied. “Hey–”

“How are you, Josh?” you asked.

“I’m fine, baby. Just tired,” he croaked.

“You sound tired,” you pointed.

“Yeah, I just got to the room. I’ve had a ton of work these past few days. And tomorrow a show, and can’t sleep right,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t you try?” you asked, sighing a smile. “I know, I’m the one to talk, but you usually don’t have issues sleeping.”

“Yeah it’s just that… I want to talk to you about something,” he drew in a breath, thinking of how to go over the thing that haunted his mind.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” you waited as he gathered his thoughts, then: “Is this about the video?” you asked promptly.

“You—do you know about that?” he let go of a huge exhale. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it doesn’t matter, Josh,” you replied. “I just want to know that you’re alright.”

“A-are you—what do you mean it doesn’t matter?” he frowned.

“Nobody knows it’s me, right?” you mused. “Aside from the people who know that is me in the photos, nobody knows.”

“But they’re saying awful things about you,” he mumbled, brimming with remorse.

“I haven’t seen any,” you replied, and he knew by your tone that you shrugged. “Even if I did, I don’t care, Josh,” you insisted. “The only thing I care about is you.”

“I… I am not doing okay,” the confession made a knot in his throat. “You know I didn’t want anything like this to happen.”

There was a pause. Joshua felt his own heart beating in his throat.

“Babe, we both knew this would happen. At least I was aware of that when I started dating a popular rock singer,” you giggled sweetly. “That’s why I don’t let it affect me.”

“But what about…”

“My career?” you sighed heavily. “I don’t know yet, nothing has changed so I won’t worry about it.”

Joshua lied perplexed at your nonchalance. “Okay…”

“Do you feel better now?” you asked, your tone sugary and warm. “I don’t want you to stress over things you can’t control,” you reminded him.

“You’re right,” he mumbled, bringing his other hand to cover his face. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“There is nothing to forgive here,” you replied. “I love you, I wouldn’t get mad at you for something like this.”

“I love you too, bunny,” he replied. And even though your words did alleviate part of the turbulence in his heart, there was one thing that remained, one thing he needed to talk to you about.

But he could push it down. For now.

Joshua went back inside, closing the door to the balcony and drew the blinds down. Throwing himself to the hard bed of the hotel room, he ignored the busy noise from the streets outside the window.

The lights were off, so he thought of trying to sleep. It was early, so that could give him ample time to try to fall asleep. He closed his eyes, slowing down his breathing. The buzzing noise from outside, and the normal hotel room sounds were distracting. That and the cold, firmness of the mattress.

What he would give to sleep next to you, he thought. To be wrapped by your warmth, to hear those sweets sounds you make, to feel your body pressed against his.

He sighed heavily. The screen of his phone lit up, and that was reason enough to give up trying.

The notification was from Jeonghan. It was another video. This one was longer than any of those he already had uploaded to the shared private folder.

From the thumbnail, Joshua got a sudden rush of excitement. A distraction for the night. It was as if Jeonghan knew what Joshua needed.

The video was one of the most daring that you have sent him so far. Between car sex, public sex and such, this one was where he could see just how far Jeonghan could take you. You were on top of Jeonghan, pleasuring him with a toy.

Joshua saw in your face how entranced you were in the moment, pushing the toy in and out of him, smiling softly whenever Jeonghan moaned raunchily. Then, when you inserted the other end of the toy inside you, and started moving your hips on him, Joshua could not resist himself any longer.

He begun toying with his own dick, looking at Jeonghan’s dripping with precum. His hands on your ass, guiding your thrusts inside him. You pushed one of his thighs to his chest, picking the pacing of your hips against his.

A moan bubbled in Joshua’s chest, shuddering with overwhelming pleasure as you begun stroking Jeonghan’s cock, continuing to push the toy inside him, making the man moan obscenely.

For a moment, Joshua was not sure why he felt this aroused. Was it because of how you were fucking Jeonghan? Was it because he wanted to be in Jeonghan’s place? Or was it because he wanted to be in your place?

The thoughts swam in his mind, but he knew he had been holding them for a while now. However, he ignored tried pushing them away, tucking his hand beneath his sweats and boxers, pulling out his cock to alleviate the pressure building up.

He released a sigh between his teeth, caressing his hard cock. He watched your hips moving on him, Jeonghan’s face riddled with pleasure, your hand stroking him at the same pace of your thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joshua gritted.

“God, baby… I’m g-gonna come,” Jeonghan gasped lewdly, letting out a long, raspy groan.

You were moaning with Jeonghan, both looking at each other as you came apart in the couch. The sight was so alluring, so lewd that Joshua felt like moaning with you and Jeonghan, knowing that there was no turning back from this.

He pumped himself faster, the wet sounds created by his own hand on his cock complimented the sounds from your skin slapping against Jeonghan’s, your hand on his cock, your moans, Jeonghan’s moans. Ropes of cum spurted from him at the same time Jeonghan came in the video, driving that confusion deeper inside his brain.

Panting, Joshua stared at the screen, replaying the video, trying to figure out why he felt that blow to his heart.

Was it jealousy? What was it?

Joshua stared at the lights hanging from the ceiling. The brick walls surrounding him were adorned with provocative art, there was a drum set to his left, his guitar sitting in front of him in a stand.

The studio was owned by one of his friends. When Midnight Haze made a stop in the city, Min Yoongi was the first to call them, offering to talk about music while having some drinks. While the other guys went out to buy booze, Joshua fell behind, deciding to rest in the meantime.

He was splayed on a sofa. Cadaver style, hands clasped on his chest.

Well, he felt like dying indeed. That is how bad his anxiety got. Dangerous thoughts swam in his mind, but he blew them away with a sigh.

It had gone dark. The studio was littered with the remnants of the booze the guys had. Vernon decided to call it a night, drunkenly heading back to his hotel room. Jihoon and Yoongi were on the rooftop having a smoke.

Kim Taehyung gathered his long wavy hair with his hands, brushing it back and messily, grabbing the band he trapped with his teeth and securing his hair in half a ponytail. He had started touring with his band Green Nocturne, opening for Midnight Haze for the upcoming shows.

Searching his side, he found his phone between the cushions of the smelly couch and unlocked it, finding the folder with the series of videos of you and Jeonghan, and videos of himself.

He quickly closed the app, heart jolting nervously in his chest.

“So, what do you want to do?” he released a sigh, crossing his arms on his chest.

Joshua raised his eyebrows in question. “I thought you were showing me some lyrics?”

“Ah, yeah, pfff, right,” he replied, humming as he searched for something, patting the pockets of his jeans, and then looking around.

Joshua moved from the old couch to sit on one corner of a large table, grabbing his tablet where he wrote lyrics or notes for his music.

“Where is that fucking thing,” Taehyung mumbled under his breath. “I swear if I lost it again…”

“This is the one I was telling you about,” Joshua pushed the tablet across the table to the side where Taehyung was standing.

The man stopped his search for his phone and took one look at the screen. “Oh, is this it?” he sent a glance and then read the screen, his fingers grazing the pages where Joshua poured a little bit of his heart.

He nodded a thing that Taehyung did not see.

“Dude, why are you getting rid of these?” Taehyung frowned, his eyes meeting Joshua’s. “These are good! I can even imagine a sound to these. A Midnight Haze sound, not my sound.”

Joshua shook his head slowly. “They’re too specific.”

“Is this because of that viral video?” Taehyung’s gaze softened with shame. “Yeah, I saw it,” he explained before Joshua could even ask. “Don’t even worry about it. It’s fucking bullshit, man.”

“It’s true.”

The man paused, eyes flickering on Joshua’s features.

“It’s true, everything they said about me,” Joshua was rigid with rage, but he tried not to let it show in his eyes. “You even saw it, man. The night of the party.”

“I saw nothing,” Taehyung shrugged with ease. “What I saw was two people having fun, loving each other. It is none of my business.”

Joshua knew that Taehyung had seen you hand in hand with Jeonghan, and he also saw you exchange a steamy moment in a secluded hallway. Joshua let out a sigh. “I appreciate that, but that’s why I can’t use these,” he pointed at the screen with the tip of his nose. “I can’t have more online theories about her.”

Taehyung let out a thinking sound. “I don’t want to take something so close to you, man,” he smiled shyly. “You shouldn’t be afraid of using them.”

That felt like a needle piercing his heart. “I can’t,” the feeling made his voice quiver, reducing it to a whisper. He had to protect you. And Jeonghan.

“Can I ask?” Taehyung sat on the corner of the table too, so now they were both facing each other.

“Sure,” he shrugged. He trusted Taehyung, and right now, he needed a friend who was closer to his career and his personal life.

“Are you guys… is she really your ex?” he asked, the tip of his tongue pushing his lower lip from the inside.

“No,” he shook his head, the question sent an inevitable shudder through him.

“Is she his girlfriend? Jeonghan’s?” he asked slowly, but the look on his face told Joshua that he was getting a broader idea of where this was going.

“We’re in a polycule,” he explained, trying to come off as nonchalant as he could, but in reality, he still struggled to be open with something that was so precious to him. “I don’t want to make it public, so.”

“Ah,” he mouthed, nodding his head. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Can I ask, then?” Joshua returned, cautiously sending him a knowing look.

“Ask away.”

“How did you manage it?” he rolled his eyes, searching for words. “Your relationship with Baek?”

“Well, it was easy because everyone wanted to pair me with every woman I even so glanced at,” Taehyung huffed with slight annoyance. “So the world resorted to making me a womanizer and Baekhyun was just my best friend, you know.”

Joshua nodded in silence, even if that answered his question, he still felt like there was something missing.

“But then Jimin came along, and everything started getting messy,” Taehyung added, much as if he realized that there was something unanswered lingering in the air. “It sort of died down when I started dating Mimi. But I guess that didn’t stick either.”

Even though there was not much to correlate that situation to his own, Joshua felt some sense of semblance. Having a humane conversation with someone who understood what distress comes with this kind of life brought a soothing hug to his heart.

“Is it fun at least? Being in a poly,” Taehyung smiled slightly as he asked.

“Fun?” Joshua uttered, as though the word were foreign to him. “Yeah, I mean, he’s my best friend and I love her. So.”

“What do you mean?” he cocked one eyebrow. “Oh, you mean you’re only with her and not Jeonghan as well?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“I assumed because of Jeonghan…” now he looked even more intrigued. “So you’re not bi as well?”

Even though the questions were heavily personal, Joshua did not feel uncomfortable. “Nope,” he frowned. “Well…”

There was a silence. Kim Taehyung waited, looking at Joshua as he gathered his thoughts with his heart strumming hard in his chest. To finally voice his thoughts about this aloud was panic-inducing for him, but for some reason, he was sure he could trust Taehyung.

“I don’t know,” Joshua let out finally, panic hugging his heart tightly. “It’s weird. Because there is no one else I’d rather share my partner with but him. I think I would have gone crazy if Bunny told me she had feelings for a different person. But when she told me about Jeonghan… I understood. Like it was meant to be.”

For a moment, it felt as though he were alone in the room, letting his deepest thoughts come out without any remorse, nor fear that he would be judged. That was the moment he knew.

“But I did feel jealousy. Part of me was certain that it was because I could not tolerate that Bunny had feelings for another man,” Joshua’s gaze swam upwards, finding the smoke-yellowed ceiling. “But I know now that my jealousy also came from the way that Jeonghan dropped everything to be with her. He was willing to lose our friendship for her, he cared about her, loved her, and… I was jealous of that.”

“But—,” Taehyung shook his head ever so slightly, much as if he were discarding a thought. “Sorry. I just need to ask, are you jealous that he’s paying attention to her… do you want that attention for yourself?”

Joshua found the strength to nod his head. “I think that it was when Jeonghan started to fall in love for her when I begun to wonder. What if…” he paused, his courage dying down for a minute. But he pushed himself: “What if I also want to receive the same love and attention that he gives her? Why do I want that?”

Taehyung showed him a wide smile. “Why don’t you try and talk to him about it? You know, go for it,” he offered his solution.

“He’s my best friend. What if it doesn’t go the way I want it to?” he shrugged in a defeated way. “I don’t want to make things even more awkward.”

The man huffed with genuine disbelief. “But you said it!” he giggled. “He is your best friend. I am pretty sure that he will understand.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Joshua insisted, his head tilting to one side.

“You never know if you never try,” his friend replied, a winning grin spreading on his lips.

“True,” Joshua conceded.

“Do you think she’ll understand?” Taehyung asked cautiously.

Joshua remembered the day you told both him and Jeonghan that you would be okay if things went that road. “Yeah. Of course. She’d have no problem with it.”

Now it was just a matter of his indecision.

“Then just try,” his friend nodded at him in encouragement.

He did not want to lose what he had with you and Jeonghan. He did not want things to take a turn for the worse.

You were sitting down on the couch, reading a book while sipping on a hot cup of tea.

The room was lit with a warm light coming from the lamp standing beside the couch, vibrant in color and soft tones of jazz coming from the flat screen. The whole apartment smelled of detergent and fabric softener, and the hum emitted by the dryer sounded far in the background.

You sighed, turning a page over, and continued reading. You had been immersed in this book for a while, every now and then you would express it on your face, pouting, eyes widening, or even gasping sometimes.

That was Joshua’s entertainment sometimes. He would sit on the armchair across from you and pretend to play some chords on his guitar, but in reality, all he did was watch you. Study the way your eyes would fly through the lines written on the pages.

But this time around, you noticed. “Are you okay, babe?” you asked, lifting your gaze from the book as you took one sip from your tea.

“Just watching you, Ms. Hong,” he mumbled with a soft smile.

“I know,” you smiled knowingly. “I noticed, Mr. Hong.”

“I’m fine, baby,” he gave you a slow blink.

In his head, Joshua was cluttered with thoughts of the future. He wished he got the chance to meet you earlier in his life before he made the decision to give himself into his plans of being a musician.

The nagging urge to quit everything and just continue to have this quiet life with you haunted him. Sometimes the impulse overtook him, sending a rush of anxiety through his veins, much as if he needed to stand up and run away from something. He knew what it was, it was time coming to an end.

Granted, he never really felt like this was his life. He settled in with you, but this still felt like it was your apartment. It was your couch, your flatscreen. He just brought in his clothes and his guitar.

He felt like a guest in someone else’s life. Like this was life’s way to mock him. A what if in which Joshua Hong never dedicated his life to making music. This is what would have become of him. He would have been with you freely and loving you aloud.

Who knows, maybe he would have given you a ring already. Maybe he would have asked you to join him in an adventure together for the rest of your lives, far away from the spotlight.

You rose to your feet, leaving your book behind and approached him with a determination that he loved to see in you. He lifted his gaze to your eyes as you stood before him.

Carefully, you took his acoustic guitar from his grasp, placing it on the couch and turned to him. Joshua looked at you expectantly, knowing what would come next. He just opened his arms, embracing you as you sat on his lap.

“What is going on inside that head of yours?” you asked, eyeing him with curiosity as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You,” he breathed, heart beating faster in his chest.

That made you smile. “I’m here, Josh,” you giggled.

He brought a finger to your face, touching the tip of your nose affectionately. “I’m just thinking that you’re cute,” he scrunched his nose, smiling.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied, batting your eyelashes as you looked at his eyes, then his lips. “You are cute too.”

In the distance, the dryer went off with a short tune, signaling that the clothes were dry and ready to unload. The sound drove your eyes elsewhere, and you made a motion to stand up from his lap.

“No, no,” he whispered. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll just take a minute, Josh,” you said, giggling at him cutely when his arms pulled you closer to him. “Clingy,” you whispered, using your finger to touch the tip of his nose.

Joshua Hong opened his eyes, groaning with exhaustion against the hard pillows of the hotel bed. A dull pain wrapped around his heart, hurting even more with each second that passed and he slowly came to grips with reality.

He turned over, face down on the mattress, pushing his face against the pillows to feel something else other than the loneliness gripping him. He hugged himself, trying not to cry at the memory of you still clinging to his mind, seeing your face in his dreams, hearing your voice, he felt you in his dreams. It felt too real.

It was not a dream entirely, that did happen sometime before he left on tour. That day, he was thinking of quitting the band, quitting that life altogether so that he could start a life with you. The anxiety he felt for leaving you and his quiet life with you was eating him whole, just like it was now.

It was still early; he could just quit. They could find another singer, another person to fill in his shoes. Hell, maybe that person would be more fitting for Midnight Haze and would do a more decent job than him. Maybe that person will be happier in his place.

The pressure burst in his chest, like a punch in his gut, robbing him of air in an instant. Joshua pushed himself from the mattress, drawing in a big gulp of air, then another, then another.

The veins of his forearms begun to flare, arms shaking on the neat bed sheets, losing strength to prop his body up. His vision turned blurry, a loud buzzing sound blocking his eardrums, the only thing letting him know he was a live was the hard thumping of his heart against his ribcage.

He managed to turn over, gripping his chest with one hand as he tried at calming himself down, trying to slow down his own sharp intakes of breath to slower and deeper ones.

What snapped him out of it was the buzzing of his head dying down at the loud chiming of his phone. It took him some seconds to yank his gaze from the empty void in front of him and he looked at the screen of his phone. Yoon Jeonghan’s photo displaying on it.

“Joshujiiii,” Jeonghan chanted as soon as Joshua picked his call.

Joshua frowned when the sound sent a soothing feeling inside him, calming his heart at once. “He-hey, Hannie,” he croaked.

“Oh, did I just wake you up?” his best friend giggled. “Sorry about that, I can call later.”

“No, no,” he muttered quickly, trying to use the conversation to drive his attention away from his worries. “What’s up?”

“Are you coming over?” he asked, seriousness now lacing his tone.

“When? Tonight?”

“Yep. I know you didn’t say it as a joke,” he said, and by the way he pronounced each syllable, Joshua knew his friend was munching on something.

“I wasn’t being serious when I said it,” Joshua explained with sigh. “Bu-but there is a possibility,” he admitted.

“I knew it,” Jeonghan muttered with some kind of victory. “So? Are you taking a flight here? Then we could go back to where your big show is, all of us.”

“Yeah,” Joshua muttered weakly, bringing a hand to rub the corners of his eyes. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he imagined his friend raising his eyebrows. “Well, I could find a plane ticket for you without Princess finding out. We could make it into a surprise for her.”

A smile crept on his face hearing Jeonghan bringing you up like this. His best friend, his partner in crime who loved you so much it warmed Joshua’s own heart. “Send me prices and everything. I’ll send you my details.”

“Sure,” he chirped. “You know, she will love seeing you. She misses you so bad even I’m starting to miss you too.”

Joshua was no idiot. He knew the reason behind that choice of words. You were worried about him, and even though you would not ask Jeonghan to intervene, this was his way of telling Joshua what was going on in your mind.

“Jeonghan,” he paused. “I’m fine.”

“No, you don’t sound fine,” Jeonghan huffed. “I can hear the snot in your voice. You’ve been crying.”

“Agh, really, Jeonghan. Sometimes I wish you weren’t so fucking tactless,” he groaned, rubbing two pads of his fingers on his brow.

“I’m just telling it how it is,” he imagined his friend shrugging with ease. “I wish you weren’t so fucking emotionally constipated.”

“Yeah, well not everyone can get what they wish,” he muttered with a sharp jab piercing his gut.

“Now you’re being emo, again,” Jeonghan retorted with a low chuckle that died a second before his tone went back to serious. “Seriously, Shuji, is everything okay? Do you want to talk?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua quickly said. “We can talk later.”

“Mmn, okay. I’ll send you the info about the ticket in a bit.”

“I’ll send you my details,” Joshua paused. “Hannie?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Joshuji,” he replied, seemingly knowing about Joshua’s situation without even being there, just by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You stretched your arms over your head, releasing a long groan as your muscles complained with you after sitting down on your chair for four hours without breaks. Content with your progress, even though it was little, you pushed yourself away from the desk and rose to your feet.

The mug had been left empty, aside from the bag of tea in it. You grabbed it as you made your way out of the office and went to the kitchen. You strode on the floor with your fuzzy socks on, feeling a sense of accomplishment at seeing your recently cleaned apartment.

Jeonghan would get out from work in a couple of hours and come to see you. That was the little routine you both had. You worked the same amount of hours that he did, and when he came home, you would stop typing and spend time with him.

You smiled to yourself. The day you would go visit Joshua drew nearer too, and it made you excited that you were going with Jeonghan too. It felt nice to have a stronger relationship with both of them, and it was also nice to see that they were closer.

As the electric kettle made a bubbly noise boiling the water, you tapped your fingers on the counter. Should I bring dinner for us tonight? Jeonghan’s incoming message snapped you out of your train of thought.

Just come straight here. I want to see your face. Read your message, not caring that you were acting clingy already. Even though you saw each other nearly everyday, you missed him when he was not around.

Alright. I’m on my way, then.

Your tummy twisted in excitement. Already? I thought you were clocking off in two hours. You replied instantly.

The kettle went off with a soft click, exuding a thin column of vapor as you poured the boiling water into one of your favorite mugs. When you finished preparing your tea how you liked it, you turned to your screen, finding no reply from your boyfriend.

Maybe he is just messing with you. Yoon Jeonghan liked to do that.

But then, the smart-lock of the front door beeped, the handle turning, and you knew he was not messing with you. “Babe?” you called as you made your way to the entrance of your apartment.

“Yeah?”

You stopped cold at the sight you found. Joshua closed the door behind him, a sweet smile painting his lips as he took a step towards you. You watched him with your mouth hanging open, heartbeat racing frantically in surprise.

“Hi beautiful,” Joshua muttered, his gaze swimming on the features of your face, noticing that you were in a mild shock. “I’m here, baby.”

“You’re here,” you parroted shakily, eyes brimming with big hot tears. “Oh god. You’re here...”

His strong arms wrapped around you in a hug, quickly sweeping you off your feet. And you clung to his neck, holding onto him as though he were a dream and would go away at any given second.

“Surprise,” he muttered with a tiny voice, and that was when you noticed the slight quiver, the quiet sniffling when he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you so much,” you muttered, bringing a hand to feel the back of his head, using your arms still around him to hug him tightly.

“I missed you too,” he muttered, his words muffled by your hair and your clothes, but you noticed even so, that his voice had thickened.

“How are you here? I thought…” you trailed off. Jeonghan.

“I had a little help,” he replied, putting you back to the floor. “We wanted to give you a surprise.”

As you parted, you gaze fell on his features, marked by the weight of his tiredness. The color of his skin faded. The bags under his eyes were visible and darker like never before. But on top of that, the very air about him felt worn out, and on the brink of falling asleep at any given moment.

“Baby…” you whispered, your focus falling on his face, which you cupped with the palms of your hands. “Don’t you want to have a nap? You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” he frowned, his eyes shifting from your face to the rest of your body. “I just want to be with you. Jeonghan will be here soon too. We could go get dinner together or have something delivered.”

You knew Joshua well enough to know that he was trying to avoid something, and given the situation with the recent rumours surrounding you. Thinking that it was all too likely, you gave him a smile, grabbing his hand. “Come.”

He sighed but went with you either way. “Baby, I’m fine,” he insisted, and you knew by his tone alone that he was smiling. “I don’t need to sleep.”

“We’re not sleeping,” you turned so that he could see you grinning meaningfully at him.

Joshua giggled. “Ah, okay, okay,” he said, using his hand in yours to pull you closer to his body. “Come here, baby.”

You lead him to the bathroom, where you promptly started a shower, turning to him. “Let me take care of you, okay?” you asked sultrily, batting your eyelashes at him.

Joshua knew that there was more to your intentions with just one look. But his brain was so burned out that he could not figure out what you were planning, so he just nodded with his head, mouthing okay.

“You must be so exhausted, baby,” you sighed, toying with the buttons of his plaid shirt as you undid each one.

In no time, you were sliding the cotton fabric off his shoulders, moving to tug the belt of his black denims free. “I am,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a long pause. “So tired.”

“I’m going to take this off, okay?” you asked when he blindly stepped out of his jeans, feeling your fingers curling around the band of the waist band of his boxers.

“Okay,” he replied mechanically, reaching out to hold onto whatever part of your body he could find.

His hands found the curve of your waist, over the long t-shirt you wore. Thinking that he should reciprocate, his fists grabbed the t-shirt, hiking it up your torso and removing it with one motion.

Seeing you naked for the first time in what felt like ages was surreal to him. Even though he spent most of his nights looking at videos of you, to see you in real life was different. The camera could not capture your beautiful skin, or the beauty marks he loved so much.

“Let’s get you in,” you whispered, noticing the aloof look in his eyes.

“Are you going to shower with me?” he asked dumbly, letting you push him into the shower.

“Of course, silly goose,” you smiled at him sweetly, removing your panties before stepping with him. “I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

His heart swelled with so much love he was sure it would burst soon. “Yeah, you did,” he replied with a dazed smile, leaning his head to get his hair soaked with the warm stream of water.

“Good boy,” you whispered, grabbing the bottle of shampoo, sinking your fingers in his dark hair to wash it with slow motions.

He closed his eyes, deciding to give himself to you wholly. He was safe now, he was with you.

“I love you,” he shuddered. “I love you so much.”

His hands found your waist again, grabbing you as if to support himself.

“I love you too, baby,” you replied.

He opened his eyes again, afraid this would be another nightmare tormenting him with glimpses of you.

You saw something flash his dark eyes for a second before he eased back into the water when you rinsed his hair. Your hands were on him now, rubbing soap everywhere with ginger touches here and there.

“Hey,” you hummed. You were washing his torso, moving closer to him, his hands gripped your waist a little tighter, pressing your front to him, making you feel the firmness of his growing erection.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” he let out a shy giggle, lowering his gaze to yours.

“I can,” you mumbled, sneaking a soapy hand between your bodies.

Joshua supressed a shudder when your fingers circled his hard shaft, stroking it idly as you watched him subdue himself to you. “Baby,” he groaned, dropping his forehead on yours. “God, I missed you so much,” he sighed raggedly.

“I missed you too, Josh,” you whispered, pumping him faster, adding more pressure to your grip on his shaft.

He pressed his face on yours, reaching your lips with his own with a tiny groan. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” he confessed with a sheepish look.

“It’s okay, baby. This is about you,” you hummed softly. “Let go for me, can you do that?”

He nodded with his head, clutching your waist tighter.

“Good boy,” you breathed. “Focus on me, baby. Do you like what I’m doing with my hands?” you pumped him faster, your fingers cupping his balls, massaging them.

“Yeah,” he shuddered hard against you, closing his eyes to savor the pleasure brimming inside him. “Please…”

“Let go,” you muttered. “Come for me, Josh.”

A strangled noise came out of his parted lips. Joshua stopped gripping you, his hand snapping to find the wall behind you, anchoring himself before he followed your command. The last thing he did to help himself reach his high was meeting your lips with a long, sloppy kiss, wet in drool and the water showering over you.

He groaned in your mouth as he came in your hand. You stopped pumping him once he finished spilling himself on your skin. “That’s it, that’s it, baby,” you whispered in praise. “How does that feel?”

“So good,” he blurted, sighing a euphoric feeling. “You don’t know how many times I wished to have your hand instead of mine,” he mumbled out the words swiftly. “I missed you so much, I need you with me.”

“I’m here, baby. I missed you too,” you said. “Let’s finish washing, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “And then it’s your turn.”

You smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

You finished washing up thoroughly, and then as soon as you finished drying your skin Joshua pulled you in a hug, sweeping you off your feet and a second later, your body hit the mattress.

Joshua climbed on top of you, but before he could even lower his body on yours, you pushed him off, easily turning him over, his back pressed against the covers. On a usual night, that would have been impossible to achieve. But given that he was tired, he did not expect you to do that.

You straddled his waist while kissing him, his hands roamed all over your back, squeezing your skin, he hugged you as you pressed your chest against his.

The accumulated tiredness from the nights when Joshua could not sleep had started to reach a breaking point for him. You could feel it in his kisses, languid and messy. He groaned when you tried to break from him, urging you to keep going.

“Stubborn,” you whispered with a tiny smile, pushing his wet hair away from his forehead with your hand.

“You’re the stubborn one,” he replied with a gruff tone. “I’m fine.”

“Sleep, baby,” you paused, looking at his beautiful eyes. “We can do this in the morning.”

Joshua thought that your words might have magic in them because his will caved in a second. The heaviness in his limbs pushed him to nod his head in agreement. “Okay, okay,” he conceded. “But only if you stay here with me.”

“Of course, baby,” you giggled. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

You got under the covers, naked and hair still damp but you did not care at all. Once you were next to him, you intertwined your legs with his, lying your head on his chest as he hugged your body.

“Baby?” he blinked lazily.

“Yes, Josh?” you lifted your head to look at him.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he whispered, his eyelids falling heavily.

“I won’t,” you reassured him, caressing his cheek with gentle strokes. “I promise.”

He blinked one final time, and like a switch that went off, you saw the muscles of his face relax, falling asleep peacefully in your bed with you.

Some hours later, you moved from his embrace, lying in a normal position but still close to Joshua. You wanted to let him have a nice restoring sleep, so you thought of moving away from him a bit.

But his hands found you beneath the covers, tugging you closer, or hugging you back to him in his sleep. He was so deeply asleep that he did not hear the soft beeping of the smart lock, the door pushed open and then it closed with care.

Jeonghan’s steps were careful, probably intuiting that you were in the bedroom asleep. You saw his head peak in the doorframe of the bedroom, making you lift your hand to wave at him.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered, approaching the foot of the bed. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” you patted your hand next to you, on the space that was left free.

“Okay,” he whispered, moving to the side.

Jeonghan paused before he went under the covers with you, finding you and Joshua utterly naked. “Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, suppressing a smile. “Couldn’t you wait for me?” he muttered teasingly.

“Shut up,” you reproached with a hushed tone. “Josh was tired, so he fell asleep before we could do anything,” you explained.

“I’m just playing, baby,” he smiled, his gaze finding Joshua. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you frowned, still caged by his heavy arms. “He was so tired. Couldn’t even speak straight.”

“So, what? Are we having a slumber party?” he grinned.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I don’t know if he’ll wake up right now.”

“We could order food if he does.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Okaaay,” he sighed, pulling out his phone and lowering the brightness of his screen before he dived in the food delivery app.

The dimmed white light coming from the screen illuminated his features, letting you see his perfectly cute nose, his beauty mark that sat on his cheek, his rosy lips, the lower tucked inside his mouth.

“What?” he noticed, directing a quick look at you.

“I’m just looking at your face,” you whispered.

“Is there something on it?” he asked, running his palm over his cheeks.

“No, you dummy,” you said. “I just missed your face.”

“You saw me this morning, princess,” he giggled goofily.

“You were supposed to say I missed your face too, princess,” you mimicked his tone to the best of your ability but failed miserably.

“But I didn’t miss you,” he said, trying to sound serious. “I just saw you this morning.”

“I take it back, I didn’t miss your face,” you pushed him away with a hand.

“Come here, you little crybaby,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand.

“You-mmf,” you were quickly shut up by his lips, sealed by his in a chaste kiss.

“What?” he dared, planting another kiss, then another.

“You fucking tease,” you muttered, pushing his face away from yours.

His mouth fell open in surprise. “Me?” he pointed a finger to his chest.

“Who else?” you hissed. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t even know,” he grinned darkly at you. “Now, why don’t you stay quiet for a minute? You’re going to wake him up,” he nodded at the man deeply asleep behind you.

You turned on the bed, lying on your back. Joshua’s arm hugged you just below your breasts, pulling you closer by instinct when you moved.

“So now you’re going to ignore me?” Jeonghan huffed a puffy air, clicking his tongue.

You stared at the ceiling, dead set on keeping your act up.

But you should have done better than playing with The Yoon Jeonghan.

At first, he just smirked, but as the seconds went by and you pretended to ignore him, the smile wore off. He propped his elbow on the pillow, leaning his head on his fist, intent on watching your face.

Then, he slid a hand on your tummy, he did nothing else with it, he just parked it there, his palm covering your belly button. You rejected his touch, but he caught sight of your eyelids fluttering slightly.

“Don’t ignore me,” he drew out the words with a low hum. He lifted his palm, but his fingers lingered on your skin, dragging the tips on your tummy in slow, gentle motions.

You said nothing, but as his fingers trailed on your lower abdomen, you swallowed hard. Jeonghan smiled, loving how well you responded to his touch. Your warm skin prickled, tingling at the wake of his fingertips drawing circles, going lower and lower.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he pouted. “Did you get angry because I called you a crybaby?”

The tone he used was mocking you, but you could not pay attention to it. His fingers were so close to your mound that you felt the need to swallow back a moan, the strangled sound coiling in your throat drew his attention.

“What was that, baby?” he asked playfully.

Yanking your gaze from the ceiling, you met his, darkened by lust and mischief. The smirk that drew on his face was of silent victory.

“What, do you like this?” he motioned to his hand drawing lazy circles on your mound, his fingers grazing the line of your pussy lips. “Does this get you horny?

You blinked at him, parting your lips in desire but no words came out.

“I bet you’re wet already,” he whispered, a glint lighting up his dark eyes.

You moved your thighs ever so slightly, letting one finger between your pussy lips.

“God, baby, right next to Joshua?” he whispered, a devilish smirk curving his lips. “What is your boyfriend going to say if he wakes up?”

You said absolutely nothing, your eyelids fluttered when he ran the tip of his finger between your folds.

“So fucking wet,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, as though he knew already that he would find your pussy sopping wet already. “Who would’ve thought that you’re such a slut?”

You gasped silently, drawing your eyebrows in. Jeonghan’s finger dipped in your core, his own mouth falling open when he sank one finger in, then another, playing with your wetness.

“Hear that?” he asked with a whisper, moving his fingers in and out of your wet pussy, creating a loud wet noise with each thrust.

In the past weeks, you had been having so much sex that your body was extra sensitive.

“Princess, you’re insatiable,” Jeonghan smiled, throwing a look at Joshua, who was still asleep. “Do you want more?”

Your gaze followed his, finding Joshua peacefully unaware that you were getting fingered by Jeonghan. You nodded.

“More?” Jeonghan confirmed. “More fingers?”

You shook your head silently.

“Mmn, princess, you’re going to wake Joshua up if I give you more,” he cooed softly, moving his fingers inside you, massaging your walls. He pulled them out, driving the pads of his fingers to your clit, which was already swollen with arousal.

You flinched slightly under Joshua’s embrace when Jeonghan’s fingertips started moving on your clit. You locked your gaze on Jeonghan, silently pleading for more.

Jeonghan took the challenge, stopping the motion of his fingers on you and sank under the covers, carefully placing himself between your legs without disrupting Joshua’s sleep. You closed your eyes, feeling his hands on your inner thighs, spreading your pussy lips for his mouth.

The first lick set your body ablaze. You tensed up, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan ran his tongue flatly on your folds, licking your juices up, kissing your clit slowly.

As soon as your back stirred on the mattress, Joshua moved. He hummed softly, making your tummy twist, a hand flying to find Jeonghan’s head, but the man did not take the hint, or if he did, he did not give a fuck.

Jeonghan continued giving your pussy broad strokes with his tongue, not caring of the wet sounds he was making.

“Mmn,” Joshua pressed his face on your pillow finding your cheek, which he kissed softly.

“Josh,” you mumbled, the sound whiny, making it obvious that you were aroused.

Jeonghan pushed his hands on your inner thighs, spreading you more to dip his tongue inside you with a low groan.

“What’s ha–,” Joshua lifted his head from your pillow, spotting the bulge beneath the covers, between your legs.

“Baby,” you sighed a moan.

Joshua watched the body beneath the covers for a few seconds, confusedly finding your face. The last traces of slumber left him, coming alive with a slow smirk drawing on his face. He pushed the covers off, uncovering your body, and Jeonghan between your legs, eating you out. “Couldn’t you wait for me?”

You let out a lazy giggle, finding it amusing that Jeonghan had said the same thing half an hour before. “Wanna join?” you asked with a sweet hum, raking your fingertips through Jeonghan’s scalp.

Joshua propped his body on one elbow, lying back to watch Jeonghan working on your pussy. “How do you want me to join in?” he asked, his voice still gruff and lazy.

“Kiss me?” you asked with a sweet tone.

The man obeyed without a second thought, bringing a hand to cup your face, kissing you gently. Jeonghan grabbed your legs, hiking them on his shoulders, dipping two fingers back into your pussy, and kissing your clit with his mouth.

You moaned in Joshua’s mouth, his hands cupping your breasts, fingers pinching and tugging your nipples.

“You’re close, baby?” Joshua asked, enjoying the sound so much he felt himself growing hard.

“I want more,” you gasped.

Joshua smirked, dipping his head over your chest, trapping one of your nipples in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

“God!” you squealed, hands busy grabbing both Jeonghan and Joshua’s hair. Your thighs tensed more in pleasure, drawing out a long moan as one of your boyfriends licked and kissed your nipples, and the other your clit.

“I’m coming,” you sighed, closing your eyes in bliss. “God, god, god, I’m close, I’m close!” you let out a strangled sound, jaw going slack as you climaxed below Jeonghan and Joshua, neither slowing down nor stopping.

You thrashed, moaned, and cried out each of their names lewdly until you were breathless, teary-eyed, and limp on the mattress.

“God… that was…” you sighed, smiling as you relished in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

They both lifted their heads from your body at the same time. Jeonghan ran the back of his hand over his chin, wiping away your arousal and his own spit, while Joshua acted on impulse, grabbing Jeonghan's hand and sticking his fingers in his mouth to lick the taste of you.

Jeonghan looked startled for a second, his eyes widening and lips parting. But he shook it off quickly, letting Joshua lick off your wetness. The sight was so arousing, that a moan coiled in your throat.

“Princess likes that, huh?” Jeonghan asked Joshua, pulling out his fingers from the warmth of his mouth.

“Did you like that, baby?” Joshua asked, his studded eyebrow twitching up.

“Yeah,” you sighed, smiling shyly when the sound came out more like a moan than anything else.

Jeonghan had a question etched in his eyes that only Joshua could see. But he ignored it, trying to get a hold of himself before he did more impulsive things.

“What do you want, princess?” Jeonghan asked, noticing the dazed expression on your face.

“I want you both. At the same time. You on top,” you pointed at Jeonghan, then to Joshua. “And you below me.”

“Tsk,” Jeonghan smirked, nodding his head in amazement.

But he climbed off the bed as he took his clothes off, opening the first drawer of your closet. As Jeonghan got what he needed from the drawer, he thought of the brief exchange he had with Joshua, deciding to push it far away in his mind for now. But he could not ignore, that he had liked it.

You rose to your knees, circling Joshua’s neck with your hands to bring him to your face, pressing a warm kiss in his mouth. “I liked that,” you whispered, referring to Joshua licking Jeonghan’s fingers.

“I know,” he husked with a half-smile. “I can tell.”

Jeonghan returned with a bottle of lube, and one condom, patting the edge of the bed he motioned you over. “I want you here, Princess,” he told you.

You crawled over to him, sitting back on your heels in front of him.

Jeonghan cupped the side of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, and pressing a small kiss on your lower lip. “Be good for us,” he whispered.

“Always, Hannie,” you smiled.

“Mmn,” he hummed, keeping his quippy retort behind his grin. “Turn around and get on all fours, baby.”

You obeyed at once, getting on your hands and knees, ass to him. Jeonghan started littering your skin with kisses, his hands caressing your ass. Joshua watched quietly, one corner of his lips twitching when Jeonghan sneaked another glance his way.

“Come here, handsome,” you muttered lovingly, extending a hand to clutch his hip. Joshua was hard again, tip leaking with precum.

Joshua mimicked Jeonghan’s previous movements, cupping your face in his large hand. “Want to take me in your mouth, baby?” he taunted, reading your face.

“Yeah?” you lifted your pretty eyes to his face.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered, swallowing hard when you obediently parted your lips for him.

A moan vibrated around his cock, Jeonghan kissed your pussy one more time, making your whole body jolt in surprise. “Easy, baby,” he giggled.

Jeonghan closed his eyes, running the tip of his tongue between your folds, licking up your pussy to the rim of your ass, kissing, humming against your skin.

The room grew quiet in a matter of seconds.

Joshua’s head hung back slightly, sighing out in pleasure as you sucked him off eagerly. Your tongue swirled on his cockhead, hollowing out your cheeks every time you pulled back on him. He opened his eyes, his gaze falling on Jeonghan instinctively.

Joshua’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest to find Jeonghan’s eyes on him as he licked your puckered hole, a hand stroking his hard cock idly.

“God,” Joshua exhaled, closing his eyes again. You moaned around him, his hand gripping your hair right before he pulled out his cock out of your mouth with a loud groan.

He threw back his head, eyes focused on the ceiling, panting.

“Josh?” you called.

“Give me a second,” Joshua laughed languidly.

Jeonghan masked his giggle with a low hum, pulling back his mouth from your puckered hole to press the tip of his pointer finger, making you moan. “Joshuji is just out of his game, baby,” he cooed.

“Shut up,” Joshua groaned, chest heaving. “I’m not.”

“Alright, then what is it?” Jeonghan challenged. There was no smile curling his lips, Joshua found in Jeonghan’s eyes pure curiosity.

Joshua bore into him with his dark gaze. “Not now,” he warned with a cold tone.

“There is nothing wrong with admitting that you’re a quick nut,” Jeonghan stated boldly, knowing that his crude vocabulary would rattle him. “Baby will understand, right?”

“Jeonghan, why don’t you occupy your mouth again and shut the fuck up?”

“Did I hurt your feelings, altar boy?” Jeonghan tilted his head to one side, pushing another finger inside you.

“Both of you,” you groaned, torn between the fight happening and Jeonghan’s fingers in your ass. “Shut up,” you deadpanned.

“Are you ready, baby?” Jeonghan asked, spreading his fingers inside you.

“Yeah, I think I am,” you choked out.

“Get on top of Shuji, baby,” Jeonghan patted your ass lovingly.

Joshua got to the center of the bed, laying back as you crawled back to him, straddling him. He grabbed your head with his large hands, pulling you into a long, wet kiss.

You placed your forearms on the pillows, framing his head.

Jeonghan grabbed your hips roughly, lifting one hand, and bringing it down on your ass firmly. You yelped, breaking your kiss with Joshua abruptly.

Joshua smiled at you. “Someone’s jealous,” he teased, grabbing your chin with two fingers to continue kissing you.

“Tsk, jealous,” Jeonghan huffed. “Ready?”

You turned to see him, giving him a short nod.

Jeonghan rolled up the condom down his shaft, spreading the lube in both him and your hole. “You know what to do, princess.”

“Yes, Hannie,” you replied, arching your back to him.

“Good girl,” he sighed, pressing the tip of his cock in your hole, pushing one inch inside you.

“God,” you gasped, hiding your face in the crook of Joshua’s neck.

Joshua caressed your back, his fingers drawing a line down your column before he grabbed your ass, spreading you open for Jeonghan. “You’re good, baby,” he whispered, looking at Jeonghan as he sank another inch in.

Your fingers curled on the pillowcases. “Josh…” you cried out, Jeonghan’s cock filling you up a little bit more.

Jeonghan blinked lazily, biting his lip hard as he pulled back, to sink back inside you, pushing a few more inches in.

“Take it, baby,” Joshua husked, his fingers pressing the skin of your ass, still helping spread you open.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan gritted, nearly bottoming out inside you. “I’m gonna start moving,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yes, please,” you cried out, the sound muffled on Joshua’s neck.

Joshua shuddered, your breath fanning on his skin. “Can you take me, baby?” he asked.

“Mm-mmph,” you moved your head, to meet his lips with yours. “Please, Josh.”

“Hurry,” Jeonghan groaned, giving you shallow thrusts.

Joshua thought of saying something quippy.

But you sent him a look. “Don’t,” you huffed. You grabbed his cock, guiding it to your pussy.

“Okay,” Joshua whispered, suppressing a smile. He started thrusting in his cock, pushing his hips up to meet yours.

Jeonghan moaned, leaning his body forward, pushing you over too. “Fuck, god, fuuuuck,” he groaned, leaning his forehead on your nape. “Baby, you feel so good.”

The lewd sound of Jeonghan’s voice elicited a moan from Joshua. Pushing his cock faster inside you, he could feel Jeonghan’s cock inside you, moving in perfect synchronicity with his own.

Jeonghan was fully fucking you doggy style, leaning over your body as Joshua fucked into you. He pressed a hand on the pillow, the other gripping your hip, brushing against Joshua’s fingers.

“Baby,” Joshua called your name, noticing your features lost in pleasure. “You’re there?”

“Yeah,” you replied aloofly. “I’m close, babe. I’m so close…”

“Come for me,” Jeonghan choked out, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No, not yet,” Joshua gasped, fucking into you faster. Sweat sticking to his skin, making a wet sound every time he met his hips with yours. “Wait for me, baby.”

“I can’t,” you whispered, your limbs starting to shake. “I’m there, Josh. Please… let me come.”

Jeonghan let out a ragged groan. “Come, baby, please come,” he begged, swallowing hard, pushing inside you desperately now.

Just by the sounds alone, Joshua knew his best friend was near his release. He watched as Jeonghan nipped and kissed your shoulder, eyes closed as if though he feared opening them, as though he knew Joshua would be looking.

You cried out a whiny moan. “Joshua, Joshua…” you sighed, writhing as your orgasm washed over you, teary-eyed and completely fucked out.

“Fuck, princess,” Jeonghan gasped, his thrusts slowing down as you squeezed on both men inside you.

Joshua gripped your hips tighter as he moved his lazily. “God,” he blurted as he saw you and Jeonghan come together just like in all of those videos. You squeezed around him, and he could feel Jeonghan’s cock nudged inside you, pressing against his.

You fell on top of him, walls throbbing around his cock as he spilled inside you with a blissful sigh.

Then Jeonghan fell on top of you, pulling out of you and resting his head on the pillow, beside Joshua’s head.

Joshua groaned under the weight of both your body and now Jeonghan’s. But you giggled sweetly, resting your head on the other pillow, to the other side of Jeonghan.

Joshua stared at the ceiling again, breathing hard and erratically from the exhaustion and pleasure still coursing through him. But he dared to move his face, turning it to Jeonghan to see if his best friend was awake.

With just one look, Joshua knew that Jeonghan had a million questions to ask. His eyes bore into Joshua’s, his face so close they could feel each other’s breaths.

Joshua wondered for a second if Jeonghan’s lips were as soft as yours. A thought that almost sent him into a frenzy.

“What?” Jeonghan breathed, noticing the change in Joshua’s eyes.

“Get off me,” Joshua gritted.

“Ask nicely.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Joshua demanded, but a giggle sneaked through his command.

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan groaned, pushing himself off you and Joshua.

You, on the other hand, were still lost in the gentle aftershocks of your orgasm. Breathing softly on the curve of Joshua’s neck.

“We should clean up,” you said, promptly lifting your hips off his.

“Wait–,” Joshua gasped, but it was too late. Cum dripped out of you, spilling all over Joshua, and your inner thighs.

You stared at the mess for a long second.

“Tsk,” Jeonghan returned to the bedroom. “Someone has to clean that up now,” he said, lying down on the bed, next to Joshua.

Before Joshua could even say anything, you understood what Jeonghan meant immediately, leaning down to his crotch, running your tongue on his lower abdomen.

“Fuck,” Joshua gritted when you licked his cum from his skin, the act so hot he felt himself grow hard again. “Fuck, baby,” he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, trying to calm himself down.

“Lie down, princess, Jeonghan commanded when you finished cleaning up Joshua’s lower tummy.

You lied back on the bed as he got to his knees, sending a look at Joshua as Jeonghan licked the cum from your inner thighs, eliciting a lazy moan from you.

Joshua felt even more confused than before but kept watching the whole exchange, unable to yank his gaze from it.

You smiled at Jeonghan, right before he dived for a kiss, his tongue rolling inside your mouth with a raspy groan. You cupped his head moaning lewdly in his mouth.

“Come on, let’s wash up, baby,” Jeonghan whispered, patting your thigh once before pulling away from you, but not before glancing Joshua’s way.

You crawled up to him, a playful smile on your face. “You there?” you cooed. “Let’s go,” you whispered.

Snapping from a trance, he grabbed your face, placing a rushed kiss in your lips, tasting his cum in the process. “That was so hot,” he hissed.

“Did you like that, babe?” you asked sultrily, reading his face.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

You smiled mischievously, grabbing his hand. “Come on, baby boy, let’s wash again.”

And with that, Joshua knew there was no right or wrong answer to the turbulent confusion inside him, he had to roll with it.

The following morning, Joshua stretched out his arm beneath the bedsheets, humming blissfully once he found your body to wrap in an embrace.

“Morning, babe,” you whispered.

He opened his eyes to see your face, planting a sleepy kiss on your lips. “G’morning,” he whispered.

Jeonghan looked at both of you, his phone in his hands. “Don’t I get a morning kiss?”

The question made Joshua’s heart jolt nervously. But understanding that the question was directed at you, he rolled his eyes.

However, you smiled, moving to place a sweet kiss on Jeonghan’s lips. “Good morning, Hannie,” you mumbled.

“Morning,” he replied with a flat tone.

“You’re a bit grumpy since last night,” you pointed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan said, shaking his head slightly. “I should go now. Got to go to the bar to drop some payments and–,” he paused. “Is your thing with Yena still up for tonight?”

Joshua arched one eyebrow.

“Yeah, but Josh will drive me there. Don’t worry,” you looked at him.

“I’ll drive you,” he nodded dumbly. “Where?”

“I have a date with Yena. We’re grabbing dinner, we’ll talk about my anonymity and see what we could do market wise,” you explained, pinching his chin with your fingers.

“Okay,” Joshua reassured. “I’ll drive you.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan sighed, leaning over to place a loving kiss on your forehead. “I love you,” he mumbled right before kissing your lips sweetly.

Joshua’s heart gave another leap. The smile that painted your face was so sweet, he had only seen it on you whenever you were with him.

“I love you, grumpy,” you replied teasingly.

“Shut up,” he sighed a smile, kissing you one more time before he pulled back. “Bye, Joshuji,” he waved, much as if he could not walk out without saying goodbye to him.

“Bye, Jeonghannie.”

Joshua sat on the pilot’s seat of his van, waiting. One hand supporting his head, the other gripping the steering wheel tightly.

He wished he could say that he eased part of the questions that made his head uneasy. But in truth, he felt even more confused. The easy way out of this, was to just let whatever he felt flow.

But then, he needed to talk it out with you. And Jeonghan.

Frustrated, he sighed. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he returned home. He so desperately wanted to go back to the quiet life, that he forgot that time also moved for you, and things changed.

Your life was also becoming less quiet.

Was this his doing?

You opened the door to the copilot’s seat of his van. “Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled.

“Ready?” he turned the key, igniting the engine.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you repeated.

“It’s okay, baby,” he replied dryly. “Bringing everything this time?”

“Yeah, I triple-checked,” you looked down to your lap, shamefully. “I keep forgetting my phone everywhere.”

“Did you book a table?” Joshua asked, eyeing you as he drove through the city.

“Yeah, but Yen’s already waiting for me.”

“Mm,” Joshua nodded.

You raised your eyebrows. “Are you mad at me, Josh?” you asked, and without skipping a second, you added: “I’m sorry, I–,”

“I’m not mad,” he said flatly.

A long silence was drawn between you, tension building as the seconds passed.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong then,” you said with a serious tone, trying to look at his face, but he just kept avoiding your eyes.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” he mumbled.

“Don’t do that,” you snapped. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” he finally looked at you, but the glance was short.

“You’re avoiding something,” you pointed. “I know you, Josh. There is something bothering you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he shook his head, pulling up. He raised his eyebrows. “We’re here.”

It took you a second to understand that he had parked the car in front of the restaurant you were going to meet with Yena. You searched his dark eyes, heart dropping to your stomach when you saw how dead they looked.

“I’m thinking of quitting the band,” Joshua mumbled, the weight of his confession making him drive his gaze elsewhere.

“You’re not serious,” you whispered.

“I am,” he looked at you again. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

You leaned your head to one side, eyes glinting with pity. “Baby, you’re just tired. Don’t say things like these, think it over when you’re well rested.”

“I don’t need to think things over,” he spat, shaking his head in frustration. “I want out. I don’t want any of this.”

As soon as he blurted the words, Joshua wanted to take them back. He looked at you remorsefully, opening his mouth to apologize but you stopped him, raising a palm to him.

“I’m going to ignore this moment happened… and when I come back, you and I are going to talk about this. So think carefully about how you speak to me next time.”

Then you exited the car, slamming the door behind you.

Joshua stood in front of the walled rooftop.

This used to be the place where you would come to ponder about whatever occupied your mind the most. The night Joshua followed you here, he found you in the same spot he was standing in; but you were leaning your head on the brim of the ledge, following the buzz of the busy city as some kind of a lullaby.

Some nights, Joshua would wake up to find your spot of the bed empty, and he know he would find you here, trying to solve whatever plot point you were stuck in. But some nights he would also find you here when you were running away from conflict, running away from him.

He brought a hand to rub his chest absentmindedly, trying to ease the heaviness coiling around his heart.

The sound coming from the rusty hinges of the door leading back into the building rattled him, making him turn around, somehow expecting to see you.

Jeonghan closed the door behind him, crossing his arms as he walked tentatively towards Joshua. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

Joshua shook his head in reprehension. “If you’re here to play the mediator, just telling you now, I don’t want to hear it,” he turned over again, facing the city lights again. “I know I did wrong.”

“I’m not here to play mediator,” Jeonghan said quietly once he reached Joshua’s side, leaning his forearms on the brim of the ledge. “I’ve been looking for you. You’re not picking up the phone.”

“Did you… talk to Bunny?” Joshua asked, avoiding his best friend’s scrutiny. But it was quite unavoidable, he could feel his eyes piercing him.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied, finally yanking his gaze away from him and directing it towards the sunset.

Joshua expected him to say something else, something about the conversation between Jeonghan and you. But when he stayed quiet about it, Joshua felt even worse. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes harshly to avoid succumbing to pure madness.

“I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her when she gets back,” he mumbled, his voice muffling in his hands. He lifted his head blinking the quiet rage stinging his eyes and sent a shameful look to his best friend.

“She’s already here,” Jeonghan informed with a solemn expression. “She called me.”

Joshua could not stop himself from feeling resentful that you had called Jeonghan to pick you up instead of him. But even he would admit that it was deserved.

The serenity he found in Jeonghan’s gaze was perplexing. “What happened?” he asked with caution.

Joshua took pause, assuming that you might have just told him in brief what happened. “I told her I’m thinking of quitting the band. We had an argument. I shouldn’t have exploded like that, but the truth is… I’m exhausted. I don’t want this anymore,” he rasped with a nasty feeling making his face twist.

“Are you really quitting?” Jeonghan seemed unfazed by this turn of events.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, clasping his hands together as he lowered his head. “I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to sign for the label but… I never wanted this.”

“What is it that you hate so much about this?” he frowned with clear confusion rising in his tone. “Can’t you just admit publicly that she’s your girlfriend? Forget about me, or how I’d feel, you would have one thing less to worry about. Two, actually.”

Joshua turned to his best friend, processing his words over and over in his head, all the while scanning his features, finding nothing but quiet resolution. “You’re insane,” he realized. “You can’t say that. After all the shit that we went through to get here you can’t just decide to leave.”

Crossing his arms still, Jeonghan shrugged. “Well it can’t be that bad, right? I could just remain in the background or leave completely. I’m just saying, we can come up with some story to make all of this go away.”

“No,” he negated with his head. “No, I don’t want you to leave. And I’m pretty sure Bunny doesn’t want that either.”

Jeonghan said nothing at first, but Joshua could tell the severity of his entire demeanor had an underlying reason. “I don’t want to leave either, you know that. But look at yourself. I can’t stand looking at you like this,” Jeonghan admitted. “I tried to warn you, Shuji. You can’t make yourself happy by making everyone happy.”

The perplexing feeling sunk deeper within him. The only reaction Joshua could muster was a hollow laugh that went on until he thought this was what insanity felt like.

Jeonghan’s gaze turned to worry, his eyebrows pinching together.

“This is so fucked up,” Joshua muttered to himself, dropping his face back onto his hands and muffled a long sigh. “I’m so fucked.”

“If this is putting you in this state then we should call the polycule off,” he heard Jeonghan’s quiet tone try to bring some sense into this. “You can go back to your life before all of this, I’ll be fine.”

It seemed astounding to Joshua that his best friend would be up to do that if that made Joshua happy, even though that would mean walking away from you again. It had been so long since Jeonghan and him had a heart-to-heart, that they have missed out on so much. Joshua could easily assume what has happened in the time he been away.

But Jeonghan had no idea about what he has come to find out about himself.

“I can’t do this right now, Jeonghan,” Joshua decided, casting one look at Jeonghan’s face, and turned away from him, walking towards the door. “I’m not ready to talk about this.”

Joshua thought of what he would say to you as he crossed the rooftop, dragging his feet with heavy reluctance. He would undoubtedly apologize to you and tell you what was going on inside his head.

He did not want to walk away from his band, that was something he had said crassly, without really weighing how alarming that sounded given the state that he was in. He needed to sleep. He needed to think. He needed to—

“Stop hurting her, you fucking coward!” Jeonghan’s complaint resounded across the space between them, making Joshua stop dead in his tracks.

“What?” he blurted, turning around to see him approaching with an angry step.

“You always do this,” Jeonghan’s face twisted in annoyance, his brow furrowing as he lifted one finger to point at Joshua’s face. “You said you wouldn’t do this again. You lie and bottle up your feelings until it’s everyone’s problem!”

“I just said I can’t do this right now,” Joshua gritted.

But that just proved Jeonghan’s point. “The only time you can do it is when you blow up!” he accused. “How fucking hard can it be to just say what you truly think and feel?” he exasperatedly threw his hands at his sides.

“Like you say what you truly think and feel?” Joshua rolled his eyes in an irked way.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, dropping his hand on his side.

“We’ll talk about this later, Jeonghan,” he huffed, motioning to the door again.

“What do you want me to say? I’ll tell you right now,” he challenged, his chest falling and rising rapidly.

Joshua bit his tongue. His first instinct was to try and opt out of the conversation again, try and buy as much time as possible to figure out his feelings, to solve the itching confusion in his heart.

But as he faced his best friend, his resolve became clearer. He did not need to send any more tentative glances at him or wonder to himself any further. Jeonghan’s eyes kept reading his face over and over, just as Joshua drifted towards his lips, and then his eyes.

“What?” Jeonghan’s brow furrowed deeper, the annoyance in his demeanor died down and swiftly turned into genuine bewilderment.

Joshua thought for a second that whatever emotion showed on his face made his intentions clear. “Jeonghan,” he breathed.

His brow finally relaxed; his eyes widening in wordless realization. “Joshua?”

A large hand grabbed the collar of Jeonghan’s hoodie, giving it a firm tug. Their chests clashed together, knocking the air out of their lungs. Joshua paused, giving Jeonghan a moment to back away, to put a stop on this before it was too late.

Jeonghan’s breath hitched, but no words came out of his parted lips.

An overwhelming fluttering invaded Joshua’s chest. His free hand cupped the back of his head, tangling his fingers on the long dark hair. They both looked at each other as they leaned closer, and closer. Jeonghan closed his eyes, so Joshua decided to do the same until their lips met in a slow, tentative kiss.

✮ author's note: hellooooooo,

here it is! slightly late but here it's the first part to my hannieween fest/kinktober celebration. i hope you liked it 🙂‍↕️

i am so excited for you guys to read the next chapter to lights out!! i am actually very excited to know what you think of this one. it took me some time to finish writing it because i have so many projects at the moment!

but here it is hehe. i'm happy.

✮ STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER SIX!! ✮

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

Text

chemical override (8)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : I had to cut some scenes, explained in the notes below, to be saved for a bonus chap or drabble. Also, I altered the outline, and this story isn't ending with 9 as originally intended. Happy Chem Ov release day! Enjoy 🖤

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader is left confused by Ewan's online stunt. If he really is content with keeping things casual, then why is he acting otherwise? Tensions reach their peak and Ewan is forced to face the consequences of the arrangement.

Day or night, Ewan will answer your call.

Even when you seem overly irate at him, greeting him with, “Ewan, what the fuck was that picture?”

He exhales haughtily, your tone almost bringing him some twisted sense of pleasure. Like a ‘this is what you get’ type of reaction. Was he 7 or 27? He’s been labeled sensitive before, but right now, he can’t muster the energy to care.

“Hello to you too, darling,” he says, smoke billowing out of his lips as he lounges on his apartment balcony in London. He had convinced himself that his worries about you and Matt vanished the moment he reaffirmed you as his to the world. In this day and age, in your profession, that can easily be accomplished by something called a hard launch. The first image he posted was supposed to do just that, but the internet has a fickle memory.

Several months had passed with nothing concrete circulating about you and Ewan, leading fans to readily accept the possibility that you were now dating Matt, prompted by the recent Deuxmoi feature. Granted, Ewan was spotted sneaking out of your building once, but what does that really prove?

Unfortunately, some others spun the story beyond recognition, protected by the anonymity afforded by their black mirrors. Aided with nothing but conjecture, they took it upon themselves to accuse you of infidelity.

All in all, it had been an eventful 24 hours. His impulsive act of possessiveness quickly turned into a mutable gossip headline.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you reply immediately. “Why would you post that? I didn’t even know you took it in the first place.”

“I was doing you a favour. Don’t you see? People are under the impression that we’re still together.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Darling, you know it matters. It’s not a good look that you were spotted with someone else, you know what people are like,” he said.

“Oh, thank you so much for saving me from public ridicule, Ewan,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Since when do you care about what people say? You stay offline for this exact reason.”

“I know some mean things were being said about you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you insist, but you no longer sound sure.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he says. “If that picture remains, then it’s basically a ‘fuck you’ to all the people who accuse you cheating on me.”

“How can I cheat on you, Ewan? We’re not together.”

He bristles at that statement, the truth that sits unpleasant in the back of his mind. It hurts that you’re right. “You know what I mean,” he musters.

He hears nothing for a while, save for some shuffling in the background. Are you screaming your frustrations into your pillow? Is your fist raised at the skies, cursing his name? Tell him you hate him, and he will crumble. The three words will come out of him unrestrained. I love you, followed by, please don’t leave me.

But they already have spilled out of him, lost among his tearful pleas in the car. That night in September, he crumbled and he lost you anyway. What good would it do now? What difference would it make?

You finally speak, and he hears the frustration in your voice, even as it softens, “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

He can’t help but chuckle, the sound low and easy, “Hey, baby, you’re the one who called me.”

But your next words wipe the smile right off his face. “Ewan… this isn’t going to be the last of it. Sooner or later, we’ll have to make it known that we’re not as in love as everyone thinks.”

He frowns, not accepting that you’re pressing on the topic. “Why?”

“Your memory must be so twisted, Ewan,” you sigh, and he can picture you shaking your head, “Don’t you have that ironclad PR arrangement for your new film?”

His chest tightens. Leave it to you to be the bearer of harsh truths. “That… That might not happen.”

“Might not? Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t quit, did you?”

“No, I didn’t quit,” he answers quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “But can we not talk about the film? It’s not what matters right now.”

“But it does, Ewan,” you insist, the concern in your voice gnawing at him, “you’ve got this important thing, and I… what if I want out? What if I want something real?”

“Something… real.” It's like a punch to his gut, nightmare fuel, and he scrambles for a response. “Like what?”

“I don’t know… I just – ”

“This isn’t real enough for you?” There is no hiding the vulnerability in his voice now. It wouldn’t even work if he tried. “I… I’m not…”

“Ewan.”

You refuse to answer his question, and he thinks it’s for the best. He responds with his usual, “Darling.”

“What are you going to do about that picture?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he finally decides.

“What?”

“I’ll get rid of it.”

“Okay. Good.” He can hear the relief in your voice, but he’s not done yet.

“But you can’t get rid of us,” he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. “I won’t let you.”

You groan, “Ewan… ”

His reply is curt, daring you to disagree, “Darling.”

He’s met with a long and uncomfortable silence, the air thick with everything left unsaid. He needs to break it. He needs a diversion. “Are you home?” he asks.

“Why?”

Even over the line, he can feel you pulling away, like your tether to him is loosening. He can’t let that happen again. “Are you still angry with me?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I come over and we can hash it out?” His voice drops into that rhythm, the one he knows you couldn’t resist.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe so,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips, “but I want you.”

He waits with bated breath, ready to run out the door at your word.

“I can’t believe you, Mitchell,” you sigh, your amusement at him bleeding through. It’s all he needs.

“See you soon, darling.”

All throughout the night, he doesn’t let you go. The moment he steps through your door, the tension from the call dissolves into something more primal, something neither of you can resist. Every touch feels like a desperate attempt to hold onto a love that might slip away, even if just for a moment.

Deep down, he knows, just as you do, that this can’t last. But as the night stretches on and he holds you close, he pushes that thought away, burying it in the recesses of his mind.

This is enough, even for now.

And so the song remains the same.

Clad in full costume, you tread the halls of the set, your posture noticeably straighter. Alyna’s attire has a way of transforming you, making each step purposeful, each glance sharp. The familiar weight of the prop weapons at your side makes you feel like a true fighter.

The Watford studio is buzzing with energy as the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot unfolds, the set alive with activity. It is one of the actual sets used for the show, so you feel right at home - Alyna Rivers in her natural habitat.

You weave through the crowd, careful to avoid Ewan, whose presence you can never shake off. You’ve never actually been together, in a big group setting such as this, since the beginning of the arrangement. The cast definitely knows something is going on, especially after Ewan’s last daring post on Instagram. Ewan hadn’t deleted the post – he simply deactivated his profile instead. You noticed it the next day when you tried to check, only to find his account gone.

The realisation left you conflicted. On one hand, it meant the picture wasn’t out there anymore. But on the other, it felt like a temporary fix, a way of avoiding the real issue rather than confronting it head-on. It was a pause, not an ending. The post still existed technically, suspended in some middle realm.

Since the cast is not privy to the sordid details of your arrangement, you think it best to keep interactions with him at a minimum. It had been constantly nagging at you, the thought of being with him but not really. Are you even allowed to hold his hand in front of your friends? Won’t that be crossing the line, breaking the rules that he set when he promised that, you won’t be his and he won’t be yours?

Alyna would never, not in a hundred years, allow herself to be put in this position. Especially not by Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

Just as you start to relax, Matt materialises by your side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the fiercest bastard in the realm,” Matt says, looking every bit as Daemon with his Targaryen blacks and silver-blonde wig, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “Looking for your next conquest?”

“Careful, Matthew,” you shoot back, smirking. “Alyna’s got a list, and you’re edging pretty close to the top.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind, and as a top priority, nonetheless,” he teases, nudging you playfully. “But let’s be real, you’d miss me too much.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Miss your terrible jokes, maybe.”

“You love my humour,” he insists. “I’m just saying, when you get tired of shooting arrows and swinging swords, let me know. I would like to take you out into the real world.”

You raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating up. He caught you off guard, so thank the gods for the sheer boldness that Alyna wears like skin, rubbing off on you as you stand in her shoes. “Is Daemon asking Alyna on a date, Smithy?”

“Depends,” he quips, a sly grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Before you can respond, Tom saunters over, clearly not one to miss out on the fun. “What’s this I hear? Matt finally working up the nerve to ask his on-screen sidekick out? Either I’m going mad or my five espresso shots are working.”

“Watch it, you,” you warn him playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Alyna’s still got some arrows left. And I’m not his sidekick.”

Tom smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re all talk.”

“Want to test that theory?” you challenge, raising an imaginary bow. Matt lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if struck.

“See? Deadly,” Matt says, winking at you. “So, what do you say? Coffee, next week? Somewhere far from dragons and politicking?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad. As long as you promise not to reenact your last attempt at flirting.”

“Ouch,” Matt laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do my best.”

As the photographer calls for everyone to take their places, you catch a glimpse of Ewan watching from a distance, his jaw clenched. The amusement in Matt’s eyes tells you he’s noticed too.

“You’re playing with fire, you know,” you whisper to Matt as you walk toward the set.

He grins, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t called the Rogue Prince for no reason. Besides, I am the blood of the dragon.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, but you are unable to ignore the thrill of Ewan’s intense focus.

The set buzzes with activity, cast members instructed to maintain their character’s demeanour for the photographs. The Greens go first, with their designated groupings, with Ewan and Gayle sharing a close-up shot. From where you stand behind the cameras, you can feel Ewan’s gaze locked on you, his presence heavy and distracting. After a while, you feel the need to step away, walking further to the side.

He remains silent, his focus clearly split between you and Matt, who keeps up a steady stream of clever remarks that make you laugh. Each one seems to darken Ewan’s mood further. The tension becomes so palpable that the director finally calls out, “Ewan, can we get your attention over here, please? You’re off your mark.”

Liv and Phia, still awaiting their cues, scurry over to where you stand. Liv leans in with a knowing smirk on her face, whispering in your ear. “Trouble in paradise?” Of course they’ve noticed Ewan’s odd behaviour.

“More like purgatory,” Phia quips, scrunching her nose.

“Something like that,” you murmur, eyes flicking over to Ewan, who’s now talking with Gayle and the director, looking over the shots taken, though his attention doesn’t stray far from you.

“Well, if you need an escape route, just say the word,” Liv offers, her voice full of concern.

“Do you want me to stare back at Ewan?” Matt cheekily offers, making you punch him on the shoulder. He only laughs openly, the sound free and uninhibited and just Matt.

“Thanks, guys,” you say, grateful for their friendship. But you know there’s no easy way out of this tangled mess. Not with the way Ewan is watching you and Matt like he’s one step away from bringing The Battle Above The Gods Eye to fruition.

Not long after, it’s time for the Blacks to step onto the set. As you move into position, you can feel Ewan’s gaze practically searing into your back. You fight the urge to laugh. Or grimace. Or shoot him a questioning look. The idea of Ewan in his full Aemond costume brooding over you is something indeed. The fangirl in you would have been sent reeling, if only he wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

You spot Liv, Tom, and Phia swooping in like a rescue squad with a mission to derail Ewan’s brooding. Phia, ever the animated theater kid, practically throws herself in front of Ewan, waving her hands like she’s recounting the world’s most thrilling tale.

“Ewan, did you catch that last shot of Helaena? Absolute perfection,” she says, grinning.

Tom saunters up, “Care to explain why you are standing here lurking like some stalker? You’re scaring the crew, mate.”

Phia gently nudges Ewan away from your line of sight. “Come on, Ewan. Let’s go for a smoke, it’s stuffy in here.”

Ewan’s clearly torn, but he’s powerless against his friends’ instigation. You bite back a laugh as you see him getting pulled in every direction. Your makeshift rescue team really needs to get their act together, but you love them anyway. The camera snaps away, and you focus on your poses. Knowing that Phia and the gang are running interference, you’re free to enjoy the moment and be Alyna as the photoshoot demands. You can save the enjoyment from watching him squirm later.

The photoshoot wraps up in the evening and everyone begins to gather their things, preparing to leave. Cast members chat, stretch, and discuss plans for the week.

“So, coffee next week?” Matt asks again, this time with a bit more seriousness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll see what I have scheduled then I’ll give you a call.”

“Great. I’ll even let you pick the place. Well, I’ll be off, love, I’m meeting my sister.” he says. Then, as if sensing something, he leans in closer. “But I’d better give you something to remember me by.”

Before you can react, Matt pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you warmly. The embrace lingers just a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he plants a soft, teasing kiss on your cheek. You catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. What is he up to?

As Matt releases you and heads out of the studio, you spot Ewan coming toward you, his presence all too familiar. He doesn’t say anything at first, and just stands there, his silence more charged than anything he could have spoken. His expression is stoic, but with the way his lips are pursed and his nostrils are flared, you would say that he’s bothered. He’s jealous.

“You seemed to be having fun,” he finally says, his tone casual, though the tension is unmistakable.

“Mmm, maybe I was,” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “Is there a problem?”

Ewan’s eyes narrow slightly, but he shakes his head. “Not at all. Just… nevermind. I’m sure you know, we’ve been booked for a magazine feature coming up in a few days.”

You freeze. “Yeah, I heard. What about it?”

“I’m just making sure that you’re okay with it, darling.”

“It’s work, Ewan,” you reply tersely. “We’ll deal with it.”

The tension breaks when Fabien swoops in, his flawless smile in place. “So, you’re stealing Matt away from me now?” he teases, and there’s an edge to his question. He’s still on the fence about you and Ewan, as he feels protective of his friend. But he’s aware that there’s no simple right or wrong here. You both hurt each other; that much is clear.

“Maybe,” you quip back, shrugging with feigned innocence. “He seems to like my company.”

Fabien laughs, though there’s a hint of something serious beneath it. “I’ll allow it – this time. But don’t forget, I’ve got dibs on him for the next round of drinks.”

As Fabien’s laughter fades, Ewan’s voice cuts through the lightheartedness. “I don’t think she needs your protection, Fabien.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, rolling your eyes. “I don’t need looking after, Ewan.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice dropping to something darker. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, even as you know it’s a dangerous game you’re all playing. The fire between you smoulders, waiting for the next spark to ignite it. Is Matt that spark? No, you realise, both your actions will be enough to bring everything crashing down.

For now, you step away, leaving Ewan to stew in his misguided jealousy.

“See you around, Fabs,” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you for our shoot, yeah?” you tell Ewan, making it clear that you’re not up for another dalliance in between.

He gets the hint, nodding tersely. But he doesn’t just let you go, not without making his mark, the thing he ached so badly to do in front of Matt, but couldn’t.

He briefly casts a glance around the room to make sure no one else is hovering, then presses a soft against your lips, leaving you no time to protest.

You’re exhausted. You’re frustrated. You shouldn’t give in to this, but you do. He feels right; he feels like home.

If home is a Motel 6 along the highway, ready to kick you out at a moment’s notice. Isn’t that just a knife in the gut?

You pull away after a second, and he smiles, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

Fabien shakes his head, a feeling of warmth rising within him at the sight of his two friends who clearly belong together. If only they would get their heads out of their asses.

You seem to remember his presence, pushing away from Ewan’s hold.

Fabien can only roll his eyes.

Only two days later, and you’re back to work once more. The British Vogue photoshoot has its focus on high fashion, set against the backdrop of an American West-inspired ranch. It doesn’t dwell on you and Ewan as celebrity figures, which is why you agreed to the shoot in the first place.

Walking onto set, you’re struck with awe at the dramatic tableau of worn wooden fences, hay bales, and lasso props. But your amazement reaches its absolute peak when Ewan emerges, in full cowboy attire.

Fuck. You bite your lip, and you can almost hear your heart pounding. Unbeknownst to you, the crew notices your flustered state, but they think it’s just you admiring your boyfriend as expected.

He meets your eyes from across the room, then saunters over to you, that characteristic smirk set on his lips. Your breath catches in your throat, when he tips his hat and greets, “Howdy, darling.”

“Why, hello, good sir,” you try to match his tone, giving a playful curtsy.

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, and you’re sure if he’s referring to the photoshoot or the possibility that the two of you might have to play at being a couple as these people expect. You opt to believe the former.

As the shoot progresses, the tension between you and Ewan becomes almost unbearable. You’re clad in an elaborate, haute couture cowgirl outfit. A sculptural corset made of brown leather, with a tailored vest on top. A floor-length skirt with a high slit reaching your upper thigh, dyed to a rich gradient of burnt sienna. Knee-high heeled boots. A leather choker with a central silver pendant rests on your neck, dangling provocatively.

For the first set of shots, both of you casually lean against the fence. Ewan poses beside you, watching you with an intensity that is both electrifying and maddening. His gaze is hungry, almost predatory, and you almost forget about the elaborate set around you. Thankfully, each blinding flash of the camera pulls you back into the real world. Keeping you from riding a cowboy right down on the hay bales. How does the saying go? Save a horse…

The photographer snaps you out of it, as he shouts a direction for you to pose solo with a lasso draped over your shoulder. Ewan steps out of the frame, leaning against a wooden post, his eyes locked on you as if he’s trying to memorise every detail of this look.

“Alright, let’s try a more dramatic pose,” the photographer instructs. “Maybe something with a bit more attitude.”

You adjust your stance, twisting slightly to emphasise the curve of your waist. As you do, you momentarily meet Ewan’s gaze. His eyes are dark with something like desire, and his lips are set in a grim line.

“I can’t even articulate what you’re doing to me, darling,” Ewan murmurs in your ear, when the photographer calls for a 5-minute break. Set assistants run onto the scene, adding and rearranging props for the next round of shots.

You smirk, “Speak for yourself, Mitchell.”

“Mmm,” he hums, satisfied.

The next shot calls for Ewan to stand behind you, his arms wrapped around your figure, the position as intimate as can be. Each click of the camera seems to heighten the tension.

His breath is warm against your neck, the sheer proximity electrifying, causing your entire body to heat up underneath the layers of leather and cotton. His heartbeat matches yours, quick and erratic. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible over the camera clicks. “You’re making this incredibly difficult, you know.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Difficult how, exactly?”

“Keeping my hands off you is the hardest part of my day,” he replies, his voice husky with restrained desire. “It’s like you’re daring me to break every rule we’ve set.”

That you’ve set, you want to correct him, but you bite your tongue. A bitter chuckle escapes you, the sound a mix of frustration and amusement. “So what if I am,” you tease, bending back slightly into his embrace, feeling his body heat against yours. He welcomes your closeness, leaning into you.

For the next few minutes, it’s a game of seduction and denial, every movement aimed at tormenting the other. The crew, blissfully unaware of the full extent of the tension, is generally pleased about the atmosphere of the shoot. In their minds, you and Ewan are simply leaning into your real-life chemistry and romance.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Little do they know.

In the brightly lit break room, the hum of distant chatter from the set fills the silence between you and Ewan. He’s seated across from you, his gaze unyielding as you check your phone.

His voice breaks the quiet, his tone deceptively casual but laced with curiosity. “Doing anything tomorrow?”

You look up, meeting his eyes, before tentatively answering. “Actually, yes.”

His brows lift, his curiosity piqued. “Care to elaborate, darling?”

You shift in your seat, trying to mask the tension in your voice. “I’m supposed to grab coffee with Matt.”

“Matt.” Ewan’s voice is low as he repeats the familiar name. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, his expression morphing from curiosity to something more intense. “Is it… is it a date?”

“I think that was implied,” you reply, your tone deliberately nonchalant as you try to maintain control of the conversation.

“Really.” His voice tightens, his response loaded with a mix of disbelief and frustration.

You notice the obvious shift in his demeanour, the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. “Why the long face?”

Ewan’s hands ball into fists on the table, his composure breaking. “Fuck, I—”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, your own frustration simmering. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”

“No, just…” His voice falters, his emotions raw. “I don’t want you to go.”

You blink, taken aback by his admission. “Are you being serious right now, Mitchell?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Ewan’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of hurt and possessiveness. A concoction borne out of circumstances of his own making. Or had it been you, last September? You can no longer keep track of whose fault reigns over everything. The truth of the matter is, you love him. Of course you do.

But nothing feels right anymore.

“I don’t know,” you retort, your voice rising slightly, “I hope you are. Because you can’t just say that to me.”

“But I am.” His tone is resigned but unwavering. “I don’t want to watch you with someone else.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water, freezing you in place. “Then I’m ignoring what you just said. This isn’t fair to me.”

His face falls. “You can’t just ignore it. It’s not that simple.”

You stand up abruptly, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Well, I don’t see how this conversation is going to help anything.”

He stands as well, his expression pained and conflicted. “I just – damn it. Wait a minute, darling – ”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Look, if you’re going to act like this, then maybe we need to rethink – ”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice desperate. “I don’t want to rethink anything. I just… I need you to understand that this isn’t easy for me.”

The room falls silent, both of you breathing heavily. The unresolved problem lingers, the weight of it all hanging heavily between you.

You take a final look at him, feeling a mixture of anger and longing. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk out of the break room, the doors closing sharply behind you. Ewan is left alone, frustration clear on his face as he stares at the empty space where you once stood.

Ewan is sprawled on his couch, a half-empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. The warm light of a lamp casts a muted glow over his apartment, which is littered with the remnants of his evening alone. He has seen the latest headlines about you and Matt, enjoying a date in Hyde Park.

Hyde Park Outing: Is it Love in the Air for these HBO Actors?

He tries to ignore them all, but the nagging bitterness won’t let him be. The images and headlines keep flashing in his mind. Unable to shake the frustration, he sends a quick message to Tom and Phia, inviting them over for a casual distraction.

A short while later, they arrive, carrying a six-pack and a box of takeout. Ewan greets them with a tired smile, which barely masks his despondence.

“Evening,” he says, opening the door wider to let them in. “Glad you could make it.”

Phia gives him a sympathetic look as she steps inside, setting down the food. “We came prepared. Looks like you could use a break.”

Tom follows, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. “And some beers. We figured you might need them.”

Ewan leads them to the living room, where they settle onto the couch. As they crack open the beers and start munching away, the initial wariness fades, replaced by casual conversation. His two guests are careful not to broach the topic of you, but they know it’s inevitable. Soon enough, it will be time to get down to business, which is essentially what they came for. They’re the rescue squad after all.

“So… we have a feeling we know what’s been eating at you,” Tom says, taking a swig of his beer. “We saw the headlines, mate. Don’t even deny it. It’s gotta be rough.”

Ewan grimaces, his hand gripping the bottle a little tighter. “Yeah, the headlines. they’re , uhhhh … oh, what does it even matter?”

Phia raises an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Come on, kid. It matters. You can talk to us. We weren’t cast as siblings for no reason.”

Ewan lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “We have this thing, this casual thing. But seeing her with someone else... it’s like a punch to the gut.”

Tom nods sympathetically. “I get it. I’m sure it was fun at first, but – ”

Phia’s concern wins over her, leading her to interject, “Ewan, maybe you need to bloody talk to her. Figure out where you both stand.”

Ewan shakes his head, though his expression softens, and his unmistakable vulnerability shines through. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to see where that leads.”

Phia reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Ask her why she ended things last year.”

“I know why – ”

“Just… ask her again? You might find out more than you expect.”

Tom waits a beat before butting in with a light-hearted chuckle, “It’s better than letting it fester. At least you’ll know where you stand. You owe her that much.”

Ewan huffs out a laugh, the bitterness in his voice giving way to reluctant amusement. “Maybe. I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“Mate,” Tom shakes his shoulder, “look at the state of things. How in the bloody hell can you make it even worse? I don’t think it’s possible.”

Phia just smirks at his boldness, but she agrees, nodding to Ewan, “He’s right, you know.”

Tom raises his beer in a mock toast. “To Aemond and Alyna.”

“Oh, you absolute rascal,” Phia laughs in disbelief.

But they all clink their bottles together, the gesture a small comfort amidst the confusion. The evening winds down after an hour, and after they depart, Ewan’s mind is still consumed with thought.

Day or night, you will answer Ewan’s call.

“Hello?” your voice patches through after a few rings.

“Darling,” he says, “I think we need to talk.”

💌 next chapter

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Some notes in the margins...

I did have Matt and the reader's date written out, but I thought it seemed superfluous for this one. Maybe in a bonus chapter?

In the next one: 'THE talk', Ewan dealing with stuff for his film, whippets, interviews, MORE headlines... will they finally resolve everything?

Also, if yous want, I can give a glimpse on what would have happened if Matt got the BV shoot instead :)

The end isn't even within reach. More angst to follow. How can there be more, you ask? Let's hash it out below 😉💙

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine

577 notes · View notes

themuseofbaroque · 4 months ago

Text

astro obvs. & notes #1 - general

author’s note - this is for entertainment purposes only, none of this is fact. these are simply my own opinions!

- neptune 1H 🤝 pisces rising, noticing their eyes first. the water influence to these placements adds something that draws you in like a current, no pun intended. i used to work with a pisces rising, and she literally looked like a pretty fish (lmfao) big, shiny eyes. either of these placements can find it incredibly easy to appear sensual or seductive.

- speaking of water placements! i’ve also noticed pisces placements tend to take a lot of pictures around water. beaches, hot tubs, rivers.

- this can also be said for air signs (esp. libra) but with things they enjoy! i’m always seeing personal interest posts from libras, aquarians and geminis. music, video games, political causes, shows they’re watching, food, celebrities, etc. anything they like, they post. anything.

- i’ve never laughed harder than when i’m with people who have heavy gemini, capricorn, sagittarius and leo placements

- in my personal opinion and experience, capricorn risings are what people think scorpio rising is. i’ve only met one scorpio rising irl (that i know of) and she did not fit martian/plutonian ruling at all. celebrity examples ⬇️

kim hongjoong of ateez. the intimidation factor, the style, sex appeal, the interest in piercings/tattoos. he’s a capricorn rising, with his chart ruler, saturn, in the sign of aries so we see a lot of red/martian influence from him as well.

megan fox. she’s been a little fuckin weird ever since she dated mgk (that man makes me physically ill to look at much less read about) but! she had her bad bitch moments! being known primarily for her sex appeal + starring in jennifer’s body (a gothic treasure btw) i feel is very scorpio coded however she herself is a capricorn rising, with a sagittarius saturn in the 11h, more fire influence from her as well just like with hongjoong.

joan jett. THEE female guitarist of the 80s. her whole career was surrounded by sex, scandals, drugs, all the darker themes of rock n roll in general. she’s another fire ruled capricorn rising and a sagittarius saturn in the 11h like megan. her style and even her personality has an edge to it, much more fitting for scorpio/plutonian stereotypes rather the capricorn ones. imo.

- actors who’ve done major/recognizable roles in horror usually have a capricorn neptune. neptune is imagination and capricorn is ruled by the devil card in tarot. combine the two and you have quite literally = dark imagination. celebrity examples ⬇️

mia goth staring in the X series as the main face of the trilogy

bill skarsgard being the main face of the IT remake as pennywise

evan peters as tate langdon in AHS, he also played jeffery dahmer recently for netflix.

- capricorn actually shows up quite a bit in the horror genre, esp. gore and paranormal. both actors and writers.

- sagittarius too, oddly enough. a lot of well known faces of horror have major sagittarius placements/stelliums/jupiter dominance.

- underdeveloped cancer placements are more manipulative and two faced than geminis. i see so much gem slander on here, and don’t get me wrong, i love both cancer and gemini placements! however i’ve met and befriended quite a few of both, and cancers by far have been the common denominator in issues around them more than once. stirring the pot then turning around and playing the victim when people are frustrated, lying, playing both sides to better their own situation, and even playing people against each other. i’ve never seen such hateful behaviors from the geminis i know irl.

- aries men are much shyer compared to the women

- taurus women i’ve met irl get pregnant very easily. venus? good coochie? idk

- grand trines are some of the most beautiful people i’ve ever seen (a grand trine is when someone’s big 3, so sun/moon/rising, are in the same element but in all 3 different signs. ex: virgo sun, taurus moon, capricorn rising)

- queer individuals with pisces placements can pass as straight pretty easily if they wanted to. most of them are chameleons

- aries risings i’m so sorry for the household you had growing up. i see martian childhoods usually being the ones who dealt with screaming matches, toxic parents, poverty and underlying issues with siblings that last into adulthood

- i’m not surprised at all when libra placements tell me they’re in college for a general studies degree because they can’t figure out what they wanna do yet

- a lot of fan favorite female characters in video games are canonically cancers

- if you think your rising sign doesn’t suit you very well, try looking at whatever planet correlates with your gender identity. masculine: sun and mars, feminine: venus and moon. the houses and signs of these should help you out a little bit

- libra placements absolutely get favoritism at least once in their life, jobs/family dynamics especially

- sagittarius women usually have rough love lives, at least in the beginning. a lot of them try to save and help partners who don’t deserve it and they get hurt badly in the process. same goes with pisces women

- virgo venus is not that bad of a placement as stereotypes make it out to be. clean freaks? yes. perfectionists? usually, yes. loyal? yes. remember the small things? yes. romantic? no. at least not in a cheesy way. sensual? yes.

- lilith aspects to any of the big 3 is a bad bitch placement. honorable mention is venus/lilith aspects as well

- air signs like spicy food just as much as fire signs

- a lot of rappers have heavy mercurial placements (virgo and gemini) (3h and 6h)

- mc aspecting venus in anyway is usually the person who fools around with coworkers/may even cheat on a partner with someone they work with. most people with this placement have definitely had a partner at one point or another worried about someone they work with. may be the type to have a “work wife”/“work husband”

- 6h chiron is the person who’s life has been majorly impacted by their own or someone else’s health. disabilities, chronic illnesses, stds, limb amputation, skin grafts, etc.

- aries moon and mercury combo = bad potty mouth, cursing is an almost unbreakable habit

- speaking of aries! aries and aquarius placements together in any of these ➡️ moon, venus, mars, lilith, pluto ➡️ usually have a tendency to jump around from partner to partner very quickly, including falling back into exes. their thoughts and opinions on people and things change SO quickly that they usually are the kind of people who have rosters (unintentionally). they are upfront, they don’t lie or drag anyone along but they do seem to be restless when it comes to romance. even if they don’t physically date a lot, they may often THINK of it, their minds going a million miles a minute

- geminis do not get the rep they deserve for being freaks. not only does the sign traditionally rule the throat/lungs/hands/nervous system, (choking, breath play, hickies, hand fetish/fingering, blindfolding and sub/dom dynamics) but it’s also ruled by the lovers card in tarot 👁️👁️

- fixed signs 🤝 tattoos

- sagittarius/capricorn/pisces/libra placements usually have issues with religion/spirituality growing up. either they were forced into one as kids and they have an unhealthy relationship with their god now as an adult or they simply struggle to find something that feels true to them. this is just my experience but every single friend i’ve had who’s left the christian church, had an interest in paganism/buddhism, joined the satanic temple, grew up as strict catholics, etc, have had these placements. religion is a revolving door for them and it’s a common subject of struggle in their life

- women with pisces placements tend fall into unhealthy relationships very easily, especially if they’re heterosexual and dating men. they fall in love with the idea of love before the actual person presenting it. they are bossed around very easy and usually don’t like confrontation. honorable mentions for this as well: pisces stellium, cancer stellium/mercury/saturn, 7h saturn

- cheesy hallmark movies make me think of taurus/libra venus placements, 7h venus as well

- 5h cancer/moon/venus, cancer rising/moon dom, 5h/8h synastry aspects please be wary of accidental pregnancies! wrap it before you tap it cause y’all extra fertile 💀

- most well known streamers/youtubers have 10h stelliums, including their venus. a lot of them will end up dating another social media presence/someone who shares a platform/job with them

yay first post! pardon any spelling errors i’m proof reading this half asleep ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

#astrology #astrology observations #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aqaurius #pisces #stellium #capricornneptune #10hstellium #7h saturn

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eringobragh420 · 3 months ago

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🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian’s best friend catches him. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Masturbation (m only), joi (jerk off instructions), spit, cum, dirty talk 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! 🖤 Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: @kimmbery. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

Her eyes flutter open and after a brief moment of disorientation, she realizes she must have fallen asleep while she and Damian were watching a Cops marathon. She glances toward the other bed to be sure he’s there, since he’s not next to her, as his presence is required of late to help her sleep. The TV offers the only illumination in the room, casting a blue hue over every surface, and her vision is a bit bleary from having just woken up, but she can make out Damian’s long body, partially covered by the comforter. Blinking, she notices he’s holding his phone close to his bare chest, various colors flickering across his handsome face and the tattoos on his broad shoulders. Her gaze drifts down his arm, licking her lips as his bicep flexes, and she follows it to his hand, which is wrapped around one of the biggest—if not the biggest—cocks she’s ever seen in real life. Her heart skips, drums erratically, stops, and then returns to beating normally, though at an incredibly high rate of speed. Could she be dreaming? She discreetly sneaks a hand out from under the blankets to rub her eyes, and after blinking several times, she looks again to find the same scene unfolding on the bed opposite her. Damian Priest, her best friend, is jerking off while watching what is probably porn on his phone.

Her first instinct should have been to try and sneak a picture so she could send it to him in the middle of his session, but the allure of witnessing a sexy man stroke his own cock is too overwhelming. Awash in the glow of the TV, she observes his technique of a few quick pumps before a series of slow, deliberate ones. Is he edging himself? God, that’s hot. Her mouth fills with saliva, eyes rounding, as Damian touches the tip of his dick with his finger, coming away with a string of precum that he then uses for lube as he continues pumping the shaft. She can hear him breathing now, short, quick respirations, and she wonders how close he is to coming.

“Jesus!” Damian hisses, hand releasing his dick so he can grab the blankets to cover himself. The phone flies out of his hand, too—or does he launch it?—landing face down on the mattress beside him. She has no idea what’s startled him until she looks down and recognizes that she’s moved into a sitting position, blankets still up to her shoulder on one side. Idiot, she reprimands herself, but now’s not the time for aggravation. Something is happening that she may never experience again and she intends to make the most of it. For both parties.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, words hanging heavily between them in the thick atmosphere. Damian gapes, remaining frozen. “Please don’t stop.”

After a brief moment of consideration, though it’s long enough to fray her nerves, Damian slowly removes the blankets that weren’t really covering him in the first place. She lets out a sigh, biting her lip as Damian’s impressive manhood is revealed, this time lying heavily against his lower abdomen, and is he bigger now than before? Harder? He picks it up, stroking with clear apprehension. He’s probably waiting for her to whip her phone out and snap a picture and send it to as many people as possible before he tackles her, because if anybody knows her better than she knows herself, it’s him. But that couldn’t be the furthest thing from her mind at the present moment.

“Fuck,” she says, incredulous, eyes locked on the movement of Damian’s ring-covered fingers as they wrap around his cock, giving it a few pumps. His thumb glides over the head again to gather more precum and she squeezes her thighs to alleviate the pressure in her aching pussy. “I, um—” She licks her lips, and her best friend looks at her. His eyes are bottomless, and his chest is rising and falling rapidly. “I can help you with that,” she breathes.

It seems the Archer of Infamy has lost his ability to speak, and so releases his cock—the slap it makes when it lands on his abs again is nearly enough to make her cum—to extend his hand in her direction. She places her feet lightly on the hardwood hotel floor, coming out from the blanket and standing. His gaze drifts down her body from the hardening nipples under a tank top that’s ridden up to her ribs to the spandex boyshorts that really leave nothing to the imagination. He picks his cock up with his left hand this time, his strokes becoming longer and quicker, a soft moan escaping his perfect lips. Once close enough, she bends over and releases all the drool she’s accumulated from simply watching a man jerkoff, doing her best to aim the strings of saliva so they land on the head of Damian’s dick and slide over the shaft, over his fingers, and on over his balls.

“Fuck,” Damian moans, on the verge of whining, and he begins to jerk his cock in earnest.

Her eyes dance as she watches him spread her spit around his dick, using it to get off, and what starts as a smirk grows into a full on grin. She chews on her bottom lip, battling with the urge to just shove his cock down her throat because, again, she’s unsure what’s really going on here. She just knows she’s here for it. Damian’s free hand touches her, his fingers slipping inside her boyshorts so he can pull her closer. His hand glides up her body, passing her breast with a sweep of his thumb over the nipple, which causes a shudder down to her very core, and he cups her cheek. His fingers are long enough to reach the back of her neck, and he gently pulls, and she giggles as he continues applying pressure until she’s on the bed beside him. Her hand lands on his chest as their faces meet—noses grazing, mouths pressing together in something that can be described only as an almost-kiss—the exhale of one inhaled by the other. She feels his hips thrust his cock into his fist.

“Slower,” she purrs, eyes boring into his, hand gliding all along his broad chest, firm abdomen, and those fucking vees at his hips. Damian’s eyes are hooded, onyx, quite a bit intimidating, but his body begins to vibrate at a lower rate, continuing to mellow. She glances down to watch the deceleration, groaning at the pace, at his willingness to obey. Another smile graces her lips, face still hidden from Damian’s as her attention remains transfixed on the lackadaisical way he’s now massaging his cock.

She turns back, pressing her lips to his ear, his hand snaking under her to come up and around where he cups a handful of her ass. She gasps, rolling her hips against him, before instructing, “Just a little faster.” She knows his momentum by the muscles in his pec—more obedience. She breathes a laugh against his neck, and he groans, turning his head, crushing his cheek against hers. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard …” She trails off, lifting her head to look at Damian. “What’s Spanish for daddy?”

Damian’s eyes roll back and close and his body stills. She imagines his fingers are constricting around the base of his swollen cock to prevent anything from happening prematurely. “Papí,” he growls, and her jaw drops, tongue poking at the corner of her mouth. Papí is so much hotter than daddy. His eyes open to meet hers. “Call me Papí.”

Her mouth is back at his ear. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard, Papí.” His hips surge. She chuckles, nipping at his earlobe, and she swears she hears him whining again deep in his chest. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She cradles the other side of his face, pressing sloppy kisses to his cheek and jawline. “You had to cum so bad that you just couldn’t wait until you were alone?”

“I could’ve taken a shower,” Damian points out. “I need to go faster. With you kissin’ on me like that …”

“You could have,” she says, ignoring his demand. “But you didn’t wanna wake me up. Right? You wanted to let me sleep, but you just couldn’t stop touching that big cock …”

“Easy, querida,” he grumbles.

She giggles, knowing him well enough to know when to stop pushing his buttons. “Faster,” she whispers into his ear, thumb on his chin and inching toward his lips. He presses a kiss to the pad of her finger, and it’s her turn to thrust her hips against his. He lifts his hand from her ass only to bring it down in an echoing slap, and she squeals, body jarring, and his arm instantly comes around her waist to keep her from going anywhere. Does he think she wants to?

“You’re so fucking sexy, Papí,” she exhales along his hot skin. “A little faster.” His hand speeds up, and she reaches over to touch his bicep, reveling in each and every flex. “Every time I play with my toys, or I have my fingers in my pussy, I’m thinking about you.”

“Fuck!” Damian exclaims. His arm is like a vice around her, squeezing her hip, fisting the material of her boyshorts. He’s unable to control the thrusting of his hips now, but the pumping pace of his hand remains steady. Obedient. “I need to cum,” he confesses.

She returns her attention southward, and Damian attacks her neck this time, biting her ear, sucking the lobe. “Faster,” she breathes. His hand accelerates, and his hips are working faster, and she imagines for a moment those hips thrusting that huge cock deep inside her pussy, and she’s close to cumming too.

“Spit on it,” he rasps in her ear.

She smirks, turning back to him, her lips brushing his, and she doesn’t know why it’s so easy to spit on his dick, but she can’t bring herself to actually kiss him. Maybe because kissing makes things realer, somehow. If they don’t kiss, they’re just fooling around, friends with benefits maybe. But if they do kiss, doesn’t that mean something more? Or is she reading too much into it? And for hell’s sake, why is she concerned about this right now?

“Yeah?” she asks. “Did you like that?” Damian nods, licking his lips, and it’s like she’s dying inside. She maneuvers herself down his body, and his hand drops to the base of his cock. She spits this time as requested, truly spits, instead of drooling like before. The majority of it lands just below the head on the shaft and the two of them watch as it begins sliding down Damian’s tan skin. He switches the direction of his hand, his fingers now on the underside, and his palm covers the wad of spit so he can more easily spread it around his erection.

“Come here,” he commands, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling, though not nearly hard enough to cause any pain or damage, and she slithers back up his body. “I’m gonna fucking cum,” he says into her mouth.

“Do it,” she replies “Don’t worry about the mess … I’ll clean it up.” She swipes her tongue at his lips like a kitten lapping milk, and she can tell with the way his eyes darken that her meaning is understood. The entire bed is vibrating with Damian’s effort, his breath is coming in short bursts, and the expression on his face can only be described as desperate. “Please cum for me, Papí. Please?”

Hand on the back of her head, he pulls her lips to his, and they share a moan as the lust and tension and feelings between them culminate in the most intense kiss she’s ever experienced. She knows instantly she never wants to kiss another man, or touch another man. The only man she’ll ever need is right here next to her, blasting spurts of cum all over his abs and hand. Their tongues dance and their lips smack, and the ferocity gradually dissipates as Damian rides out his orgasm. She pulls away first, gazing down at the man of her dreams with a small smile on her lips.

“Do you wanna … go on a date or … something?” Damian awkwardly asks.

Her smile grows. “Absolutely. But first I have some cleaning to do.”

She winks as she slinks down his body and proceeds to lick up every drop of cum, every splatter, off his belly. Damian chuckles, hand still in her hair, though now he’s caressing her scalp and cheek, and he watches her slurp up his cum. When she finishes there, she takes his sticky hand into both of hers and she lifts it to her mouth so she can drag her tongue along each finger, the back of his hand and the palm. “God, you taste good,” she gushes.

Damian grins. “Plenty more where that came from, hermosa.”

As she moves to lay back against his side, she notices his phone face down about to fall off the bed. “What were you watching?” she asks, nodding at the device.

Damian lifts his head and looks at the phone. He laughs and … is he blushing? “I know you’re gonna make me tell you or show you and I think it’s easier to just show you.”

She accepts his permission before grabbing the phone and punching in his passcode. A YouTube video begins to play, and she’s about to launch into giggles when she realizes what the subject matter is. It’s a fan made montage of her, various clips of various moves from various matches. But they all have one thing in common: the incredibly gratuitous way in which she chooses to pin her opponents. In gear that’s barely there, she faces and straddles her opponent’s face, hooking their legs behind her arms, tongue out, and if she bends down just a little bit more, she’d have a mouthful of pussy. And there’s certainly several women on the roster she wouldn’t mind experiencing that with, but that’s neither here nor there right now. Damian had been watching her, as close to naked as possible, wrapped up in lewd positions with several of her closest, sexiest friends.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a crush on me,” she says.

His hand still has her neck and he brings her lips to his, though he doesn’t allow her to kiss him. “Ever since the day I met you.”

🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Querida - Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment 🎀 Hermosa - Beautiful

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #smut #damian priest #damian priest smut #damian priest kinklist #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe smut

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pennjammin · 3 months ago

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p is for p*ssy 🐈‍⬛

JJK HALLOWEEN!! getoxreader

sum it up ❥ suguru is cursed to turn into a cat by nightfall, and you are a lonely witch who takes advantage of his human parts during the day.

CONTENT: shapeshifter!geto, modernau, swan lake adaptation, fluffy, soft, praise kink, virgin!reader, unprotected, creampie, overstim, nudity unrelated to sex

word count. 8k

song inspo 💿: west savannah ft. sza

A/N:

to conclude my beloved Halloween jjk series, i am giving our bby geto the soft love story he deserves. everything about this fic is gentle from the conversations to the smut and so, it may be boring and out of some of your interest range, so i apologize. this is just something i wanted to do. ofc it’s still a little *nasty* just not rough.

The moon kisses your skin as you sink into the small pond in your front yard.

With no neighbors for miles, you're able to do so without clothes, letting your body recharge in moon water, drenching your hair and skin.

Your practices may appear silly, but that is why you live like a recluse, your only friends being the wildlife and the riverbed. No one around to judge you as you splash your bare shoulders in the cool water.

You lean back in the pond, arms balanced on the wet earth around you. You stare up at the stars. Your eyes begin to flutter closed, until you hear rustling.

Not uncommon. Of course there's wild animals all around you, and you usually welcome them. With it being dark though, you have to be a bit more cautious.

You open your eyes and turn, scoping the scenery. At first, you don’t spot anything until you hear rustling again. Your eyes follow the noise, then you see that walking along the bushes near your porch is a fuzzy, black ball. You cannot quite make out what it is until you squint and see bright purple, slitted eyes staring at you.

It's a cat.

You gasp in excitement and pull yourself out of the water. The cat scurries around the corner of your porch and you frown, but you know how you can get it to come back.

In all your bare skin, you bolt inside the house, dripping water, and begin to scour your fridge for the tuna you had very recently made.

The real reason you live so far from society is because you are not quite an ordinary human. You see, any food that you cook heals the person who eats it. You first discovered this when your brother had busted open his head as a child, and you'd made him a sandwich out of sympathy. Hours later there was not so much as a scar in the place he'd been bleeding out of.

And ever since, when your parents weren't looking, you and your brother would beat yourselves up just to test your powers. He remains the only person who knows about them.

With this ability, you figure the stray cat could use a bit of healing. You fix the tuna into a small bowl, a soft shimmer coming from the fish.

You walk back outside, still stark naked. You don't see the cat anymore but you can hear it in the bushes. You squat down and place the bowl on the grass, just under the awning of your wooden porch, and then you back away.

“Here, kitty kitty,” you coo.

Moments later, the skinny cat emerges, glancing up at you to see if you intend harm. You back away farther and soon, it dips its head and begins eating the food.

Within minutes, the patchy fur around its ears begins to fill in, the mats disappear, and the crust around its purple eyes dissolves.

You smile to yourself. You've only had to use your healing technique on yourself in the past years, so you weren’t entirely sure how powerful they still were. This confirms you’re still fully capable.

The cat would go on to disappear, but for the next couple of months, you’d search for it outside, both day and night. It only ever appeared at night, though, and only about twice a week. Sometimes less.

“Why hello, kitty,” you’d say when seeing the cat, and it would regard you with a mew, but it would never quite come close enough to touch.

A week passed, for the first time in months, and there was pure silence. No sign of the cat. You found yourself rocking on a chair on your porch, waiting, and it didn’t come for an entire seven days.

Until a full moon-bathing night.

The cat returns, completely different in appearance and nearly a brand new animal. It's belly is thick with nutrition, ears sharp and full, tail furry and active.

And to your complete surprise, the cat approaches you in the pond.

You jump with surprise, and turn around to face the cat, putting your hand out of the water. It sits down next to the water and watches you intensely.

You don't move for a moment, afraid to scare it off. But after several beats, it nudges your wet hand and you rub your palm across its back.

You jolt with the realization that you have earned its trust.

"Welcome back," you say softly, moving your hand to scritch its chin. "I wish I knew what you were. A boy or girl. So I can name you. Right now, your name is 'here, kitty kitty.'"

The cat's ears twitch as it rolls onto its side and licks its paw.

"Oh well," you shrug. "Kitty will have to do for now. Anyway," you shake your head, realizing you are trying to hold a conversation with a cat. "Where have you been, naughty cat? I was worried about you.”

The issue with you holding a conversation with the cat is that it seems to be listening. It looks up at you with a slow blink and mews.

You smile. “It’s okay. Just missed you, is all.” You take a deep breath. “It’s chilly tonight, kitty. You sure you don’t want to stay with me? I have a warm bed.” You rub your hand along its side and it begins to purr.

Perhaps that is a yes.

It leaves your hand and skips to the porch where it then sprints towards the front door, turning to face you expectantly.

You huff and then pull yourself up out of the water, your body soaked and dripping as you reach for your dry cloth and begin to wrap it around yourself as you walk towards the feline, who is staring at you.

When you make it onto your wooden porch, you smile down at the feline and pull open your storm door, stepping inside as the cat follows.

It glances around, nose twitching, taking in this new and intimidating space.

“I would have made you your own space if I’d known you were coming,” you say, continuing to talk to the cat like it would really respond.

It was much to hope for, but you hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in years.

You lead it off to your bedroom and push open the door.

"I don't mind if you sleep with me," you say kindly, but now it appears that the cat is back to not understanding you, as it goes into the bathroom and looks around - then back to the living room, before ultimately nestling in on your couch.

You sigh as you follow it around with a smile.

"Fine, make yourself at home.” You walk over to scratch the cat on its head. “If you see any mice, feel free to take care of it for me. I will see you in the morning.”

Okay, so maybe you have lost it. A lonely, weird witch who's speaking to animals that cannot understand you. But at least you have a companion now, something to help you be a little less lonely.

Maybe.

You go into your room and change into warm pajamas, then settle into bed that night with a smile on your face. You poor thing, having no idea what you'd gotten yourself into.

The sun peeks through the window the next morning, and gently pulls you out of your sleep.

The first thing on your mind is that you have to feed your new pet. Even though it looks well fed thanks to your magic, it has been a week since you'd seen it last, so you aren’t sure if it has eaten in that time.

You rub your eyes free of sleep and grab a comb in order to gently work the sleep-knots out of your hair. You emerge from your bedroom to head to the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall, you hear snoring and you freeze. Is the little cat really that loud of a sleeper?

You peer around the corner and, you don't see the feline anywhere. But then your eyes travel to the couch, where you’d seen it last.

Your eyes land on very human toes, then they slither up a very bare human calf, then over a bare muscular thigh, and up a bare human chest, until they land on a human face - surrounded by a wild pool of ebony hair.

Your shriek jerks the individual awake.

You take your comb and hold it out in defense, but you know realistically there is no violence in your body.

"Oh, shit," he shouts, scrambling to stand off of the couch and raising his hands. "I-I thought you would sleep a bit longer."

"Who the hell are you?" you shriek, your trembling hand keeping the comb up in defense.

"I'm..." he swallows and looks down, appearing to realize that he is stark naked, but makes no effort to hide himself. "You invited me in," he continues, voice accusing. "Here, kitty kitty. Remember?"

You blink in disbelief. Your eyes trail over his black hair, then his purple eyes, the slits in them now blown to full size. He's not lying. There is no denying the eyes.

"B-But how are you human?" you whisper.

He sighs sadly, dropping his hands. "I have a curse." He scratches his head and you wonder when is the last time he's taken a bath that wasn’t with his own tongue. "I apologize, as I never intended for you to find out."

You think back to your time with the cat. He’d seen you naked a couple of times, for long periods at that. And he’d secretly been a man the whole time. Even though he stood naked in front of you now, as well, you're more embarrassed than you are upset with him.

"It's okay," you say softly, lowering the comb.

He blinks at you in disbelief but his shoulders visibly relax.

"I considered telling you sooner but, I didn’t want to scare you.” He sighs and interlocks his fingers. "But I always wanted to thank you for healing me.”

You nod slowly. "It was my pleasure.” You pause for a moment. "What is your real name?”

"It is Geto," he says.

"Odd name for a cat," you say, teasing. "I'm Y/N."

Geto nods. “Lovely, well, I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'll go now." He turns to leave and your heart stops.

"What?" you blink at him. "N-No, you don't have to do that."

"Well, don't you think I'm some kind of freak?" he questions. "Aren't you upset I didn't reveal the truth sooner?"

"No, and yes," you say softly. "I wish you would have told me because…” because it is a dream come true that you’re a human, you want to say. “Because who am I to judge you?”

Geto clicks his tongue. “People judge all the time even if they have no right to.”

“I am a witch who lives by herself in the woods and talks to animals, for God’s sake,” you throw your hands up. “Clearly, I needed someone real to talk to.”

“I’m sorry,” Geto says, swiping a hand down his face.

You take a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” You lower your hands. “How long will you be human?"

"Only until dusk," Geto explains.

"And this happens, everyday, without fail?" you question, taking a step towards him, trying not to allow your eyes to wander.

"Yes," he says, raising an eyebrow, hands flying up in defense. "Forgive me, but I am naked. I don't think-"

"Do you know how long I've been without companionship, kitty?" you ask, putting your hands on your head. "I enjoyed taking care of you, feeling like I kind of had a pet, anticipating your return. I don’t want you to leave so soon.”

Geto bites his lip, "Really? I... I enjoyed coming to see you, too. Especially on nights you moonbathe."

You quirk your brow. "Is that so?" That much was obvious, as you think about the previous night when he had come and sat next to you while you were in the water.

Geto nods sheepishly, keeping his eyes averted. “So, this means I can... stay with you?"

You nod happily, "Of course. How long have you been out there like this? With no where to go?"

Geto shrugs his shoulders. "My life before getting cursed is pretty fuzzy. The days and nights have blended together.”

“And you are always naked?” you snicker.

Geto chokes a bit and uses his hands to hide that part of himself, which you’d been trying not to look at and failing miserably.

“Um, I wasn’t at first,” he admits, “but my clothes became ripped to shreds and I just accepted defeat. If I am wearing something before nightfall, by morning when I am human again, I will be in the same clothes.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you say with a smile.

Geto opens his mouth to respond, but with a snap of your finger, his body is covered in a black sweater, shorts and warm socks - as you are well aware of your cottage’s autumn chill.

"Clever witch," Geto nods in approval. "Thank you. I don't deserve this kindness."

But he does, you think. A man cursed to be something as small and vulnerable as a cat, forced to defend for himself all this time.

And to top it off, as a person he is gentle and kind. You feel your heart palpitate. You aren’t sure what that could mean.

“You’re welcome,” you say, and gesture towards the kitchen. “I was going to make breakfast. Now that you’re human, would you care for pancakes?”

"I have never had pancakes," Geto admits. "But anything you make is delicious, so I’d love to try some.”

And so, you both end up at your small wooden table - a perfect fit for just the two of you as the sun beams in through the arched windows. You've poured strawberry syrup all over Geto's stack of cakes, and he is devouring them with full cheeks and a bright smile.

"I love pancakes," he mutters out. "Your food gets better every time.”

You nod at him with a smile. "Just wait till I make dinner. I know you will be a cat again, but I think you will enjoy it.”

Geto's eyes roll in pleasure, "I already can't wait."

You know your food has physical healing abilities, but you've never known it to seep deep enough to affect your thoughts and emotions. So, this means the odd twinge in your heart whenever you look at Geto must not be from the food. You wonder if he is feeling the same effect.

"So, have you ever tried to break your curse?" you question, shoving another syrupy mouthful into your cheeks.

"No," Geto mumbles sadly. "I used to sit under the sun for many hours, and then when the sun began to go down I'd close my eyes and try to fight the change. But when I'd open my eyes again, there would always be paws looking back at me. I'm used to it now, I live my life around it.” He sighs before smiling softly at you. “And, well, my curse brought me to you, didn't it?"

You feel your face warm at his kind words. They weren’t helping the fuzziness in your ribcage.

"It did," you confirm with a smile. "Well, I was prepared to give you your own little cat room. The offer still stands, but I don’t think the room will be big enough for you in human form.” You tap your fingers nervously on the table. “So… um, you are welcome to share my bed with-with me.”

Geto gasps a bit and nearly chokes on his bite of pancake. "Hmm, I don’t mind, but are you going to wake me up every morning threatening to hit me with a comb?"

You grin, "No, especially since I think it will be nice to wake up to the warmth of another person every day."

"I think so too," Geto says softly, before attempting another bite only to realize he has cleared his plate. "My, my, little witch. You have spoiled me."

He elbows you playfully and you feel your stupid, lonely heart filling to the brim with some new emotion.

"I do think you could stand a bath before you get in my bed, though," you say with a playful smile.

"Oh, right," Geto nods, pink creeping up on his cheeks. "I will do so right after breakfast."

And he did. You had gone outside to tend to your garden while he washed, to see if your vegetables were ready to be harvested yet. They weren't.

Geto joins you in the same outfit as before but now, there are droplets of water falling off of his deep black hair. He walks under the porch awning to the side where you are waving your sparkling fingers over your crops.

"I feel much better," Geto stretches as if he were still feline and leans on the porch railing, looking down at you. "A good meal, a good shower, and a place to live all in one day."

You look up at him. "Well, after so long in the wilderness, I think you deserve it, kitty."

Geto bows his head in gratitude. "At least let me take care of your garden, to... repay you."

"Why do you need to repay me?" you question, astonished.

"Well, nothing in this life comes for free," Geto mutters somberly. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have this curse."

You shake your head, "Well, I already told you that I desire companionship. You are giving me that, so it isn’t technically free."

Geto swallows. "But what is companionship? Just my presence? Or is it engaging and fulfilling conversations and time spent together?"

"All of the above, it may be different depending on the day," you explain.

Geto ponders for a moment. "So, what is it you would like today?"

You smile at him, the sun beaming in your eyes, while Geto remains shadowed under the awning. "Your presence."

And when dusk fell, like clockwork, Geto was back on all fours; a small, vulnerable ball of fur.

You prepare a quick dinner, which Geto slurps up to the last bite, and then you are ready to go to bed - just because you know that the sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up to be with human Geto again.

You go into your room, preparing for bed, and he follows you this time. You step behind your closet door to change into a silk nightdress and then, you climb into bed, and Geto hops up next to you. You fluff your pillows and blankets to make a little spot for him, and he curls into it before nestling his head into your side.

Your hand mindlessly strokes his fluffy back until he's purring in his sleep, and not long after, you float away with him.

The next morning, something solid digging into your back awakes you from your peaceful dreams.

You blink open your eyes and see that it is grey outside, combined with the soft tip tap of raindrops on your roof. You smile, it's going to be a lazy day indoors.

When you attempt to roll over, you notice Geto's hand is splayed on your stomach. A moment later you realize: his entire arm is wrapped around you. But that's not exactly what's bothering you, it's whatever is digging into you from behind.

You carefully roll over in Geto's arm. When your face aligns with his, you see he's still sound asleep, messy hair covering his cheeks and forehead. His lips are parted as he snores.

The something is now digging into your stomach. You glance down and find the culprit: the large tent in his shorts. You gasp at the sight. Does Geto realize this is happening to him?

Of course you know what sex is, but being outcasted at such a young age, you'd never experienced it. You certainly don’t know how it affects boys. Over the years you'd experimented with your body, though, so you knew how to please yourself. But what would it be like with another person?

You wonder if the case is the same for Geto. There’s only one way to find out.

You shake him awake with a soft press on his shoulder.

His eyelids flutter open, and the first thing he does when he sees you is smile.

"Good morning, beautiful," he grumbles sleepily, hand flying up and off of your body to rub his gorgeous purple eyes.

You smile goofily, and feel the urge to cover your face.

"Hi," you whisper. "How did you sleep?"

Geto yawns, stretching. "I slept better than I have in years. You’re very warm and soft."

You smile harder, heat filling your cheeks. "I cannot say the same for you."

Geto raises a brow. "Am I a rough sleeper?"

"No, I just mean," you bite your lip and shyly point towards his groin.

Geto's eyes follow yours and then his face turns equally as red. "Oh, shit, I-"

"Don't apologize," you say quickly. "In fact, um, I was going to ask if... if you wanted help f-fixing it."

Geto's eyes widen in disbelief. "What do you... I mean, you want to...?”

"Yes." Your answer is quick and desperate.

"Well then," Geto scratches his head and then puts his soft palm on the side of your face. "I said I would be here to offer whatever type of companionship you desired day to day. Today, this is what you really want?"

"Mhmm," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "Do you want to?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I mean, my body kind of already answered for me, hm?”

You giggle, “Kiss me, then.”

Geto nods politely before leaning his face in, softly planting his feathery lips on top of yours. Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign contact. It feels like sparks of electricity are zipping through your veins. Like stars forming together in a constellation. You wonder if this is what soulmates are supposed to feel like.

Geto's lips part your own and his tongue drags slowly across your bottom lip, leading the kiss, as you are clearly the lesser experienced of the two of you.

A small moan falls from your mouth and your eyes pop open in embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, pulling away.

"For what?" Geto questions, rubbing your cheek slowly with his thumb.

"I didn't mean to make that noise," you whisper.

"No, it’s okay," Geto explains. "Those noises let me know what I'm doing is good, that you like it. Have you never done this before?"

You shake your head, biting your lip.

"That's okay, I'm here to guide you through it," he nods reassuringly, and then, drops his hand from your face.

He gently pushes on your shoulder and you are now laying flat on your back. He then props himself up on his elbow and slides part of his body between your legs.

"Just follow my lead, and tell me if you want me to stop at any time," he instructs, pushing a piece of your messy morning hair away from your face.

You nod trustingly, and he crashes his lips back onto yours.

This time, he's harsh and desperate. He cocks his head to the side so that your faces fit together and smacks his full lips against yours. Your hands fly up to hold him at his shoulder blades, and his body begins doing a winding motion against yours. You feel his hard length pressing into your stomach with every bit of movement.

You purr softly into his mouth and he responds with his own sultry noise, which alights a flame between your legs. You’ve read about this in books, but no amount of words compared to what it actually feels like, to have another person on top of you.

Geto's hand slides up the side of your left thigh, before stopping to hold your hip underneath the fabric of your nightdress.

His touch and kisses are so soft and pure. He is speaking to you without saying a word.

"Y/N," he mutters against your mouth before breaking away from you. "Is it okay if I take these off?"

His finger tugs the band of your panties and releases it against your skin with a soft pop.

"Yes," you breathe, digging your fingers into the material of his shirt, which earns a deep sigh from his throat.

Not a second more and he's lifting his hips up in order to rip the material down your legs. His eyes linger on them before he tosses them to the floor. You feel yourself become a bit shy, even though he's seen your naked body in full before. It's entirely different when his very human eyes are raking over your body, and his hands are hiking up the nightdress to get a better look at your bare hips and thighs.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," Geto whispers, pushing your leg up and out, so that you feel the cold air hitting you at the meeting of your thighs.

You blush and slide your hands into his soft hair. “I’m sorry, I’m just shy.”

“Understandably so,” he says, planting a kiss to your jaw. “But remember, I’ve already seen everything. God, it’s so much different to actually touch you.”

You nod and gasp as his hand moves to hover over your cunt, that had been getting wetter by the second.

You can feel the presence of his hand without him even making physical contact, and you nearly buck your hips to break the gap.

“So touch me,” you hum, desperately ready to experience pleasure that wasn’t self-inflicted.

"Okay, eager angel," Geto smiles. "Ready?"

You bite your lip, "What are you going to do?”

He chuckles, "Just getting you warmed up for now, okay? You don’t have to do anything for this part.”

You nod up at him, trusting, and then in another silky breath his fingers come down on your clit - without even searching for it. Your body has no choice but to spasm against his, as his soft fingers begin to slide across your bud like a bow on a violin.

He circles the spot and you cry out instantly, lips still dangerously close to his, but not quite touching. His own lips are parted as he burns his eyes into your face, watching the different ways your pleasure manifests in your features.

"Hngh - Geto," you murmur, your fingers now curling into the roots of his hair.

"Mhmm," Geto sighs back, planting his lips on yours again, this time shoving his wet tongue into your mouth and using it to suck on yours.

You writhe against his touch, unsure how you'd survived this long without this kind of pleasure. It seems Geto had been waiting his entire life to do this, he's so good at it.

You start to roll your hips against his hand and his fingers pick up pace, circling faster, your moans getting louder.

"Pretty girl," Geto praises, after pulling his mouth away from yours. "That feel good?"

You can do nothing but nod desperately, wanting to tell him that the pace he's at right now is perfect, that you feel heat bubbling in your pelvis, but the words won't come.

His fingers are coated in your juice now, he slides them down your folds and back up to your clit, and you almost lose your mind.

Then, his fingers go back down and his long middle finger pushes into your entrance the same way you put your own before. Although, his hand is much larger, and thus his finger fills you so much better.

Your head falls back deeper into the pillows and Geto takes the opportunity to pepper sloppy kisses all over your neck and collar, holding his mouth at times just to make you squirm.

His finger pumps shamelessly in and out of you, going knuckle deep, curling into the squishy roof of your pussy. You feel your hips pulling back from him but he follows you with his wrist.

“Just relax,” he purrs. “Let me make you feel good, repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

You nod obediently and allow your wet inner muscles to relax around him, and he notices, giving you a warm “that’s it” in your ear.

“T-Thank you,” you rasp, pulling his head to your face by his hair.

Your noses touch as you share breath, his hips dry-grinding into yours as his finger harasses your cunt. His pace quickens then slows. He takes note of the way you get louder and nearly burst into tears when he pushes a second finger inside, and begins slamming both members in, his palm hitting your wet clit with each stroke.

“Oh, angel,” Geto coos, “can already tell you’re gonna gonna do so good for me. Huh? Aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you hiss. “I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good to hear,” he rasps against your mouth before giving you a needy kiss.

He repeats his quick, deep pumping with his wrist until an unholy wave rumbles through your nerves and your body shakes against him - moaning wildly into his mouth. The rain on the roof begins to fall harder and nearly drowns out your noise.

“Ah - ah, shit,” you whimper as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“Yes, pretty girl, you got it,” he praises, catching your moans in his mouth as your thighs shake and your back twitches on and off of the mattress.

"Mmh - so wet," he adds, pulling out his fingers and tapping them together; revealing a clear, sticky string of secretion between them.

You blink in disbelief, had you done that?

What happens next nearly makes your soul shatter. Geto brings the two fingers to his lips and licks them clean, purple eyes watching you every second that he does so.

He releases his fingers from his mouth with a pop! and plants a kiss on your nose.

"Now, you're all ready," he says with a satisfactory nod. "It's been a really long time since I've done this; I'm glad that it's going to be with you."

You smile up at him, legs still twitching as your clit tries to come down from your high. “You’re so good at it,” you quiver. “‘M glad y’gonna be my first.”

“Maybe even your last,” he says, soft enough you fear that you may have imagined it.

You drop your hands from his hair and slide them down over his sweater collar and instead change the subject. "Aren’t people usually naked for this?"

Geto grins, "Yes, my bad. I'm used to already being naked."

You giggle as he parts his body from yours, only for a second, then he slides his shirt off his body and shakes his hair loose, before discarding the garment to a random corner of the room.

Your hands immediately find his bare, chiseled skin. Albeit soft, the muscles underneath are rigid, and he's covered in tiny white scars that paint a small piece of his entire portrait.

His eyes don't leave you as his hands move to pull your nightdress over your head. Now the two of you lay topless, skin to skin, the only thing separating you being his shorts.

His hand glides mindlessly down your side, resting on your hip. "Just breathtaking," he murmurs, planting a kiss to the crook between your shoulder and neck.

You shake your head. "That's all you. Whoever cursed you must have known that seeing your beauty all twenty-four hours a day would be too much for the world to handle."

Geto cracks a laugh, his eyes crinkling with genuine adoration and happiness.

He doesn’t say another word before he tugs down his shorts, and they join the growing pile of clothes on your bedroom floor. Now he’s back to laying gently between your legs, careful not to crush you with his weight.

Your eyes widen as his length pops out, smacking his abdomen before falling forward from how much it appears to weigh. You’d seen it the day before, of course, but it hadn’t been… erect. You are amazed at the sheer difference in size, and quite frankly intimidated.

“What’s wrong?” Geto wonders, lifting your chin to look at him.

“Th-that’s gonna fit inside of me?” you ask, blinking out of embarrassment.

Geto nods slightly, “Yes, believe me, angel. You can take it, it’s not as scary as it looks.”

You stretch your knees apart so they aren't digging into his sides, and you feel that hard part of him brush against your cunt.

A small gasp flies from your mouth, as your body shudders, and Geto calmly relaxes you with his soft hands massaging your sides, burying his face in your neck.

“A-Are you sure?” you ask.

"I’m gonna need you to kiss me, and focus on breathing, okay?" He speaks against the skin on your neck before planting a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

"Okay, I can do that," you nod nervously, wrapping your arms his neck.

He sits up a bit to stare at you, faces barely inches apart. The rain still patters against the roof mercilessly in the background, occasional thunder claps landing in the distance, mirroring the thump of your heart in your ribcage.

His hand that isn't being used to hold himself up is sliding between your legs, where he grips his cock, then begins sliding it on your slick, lathering himself up.

Your back comes a bit off of the mattress, stomach sliding against his torso.

“Hngh - oh," you mumble, and Geto cuts you off with a peck.

"Don't tense up, angel," he mutters against you. "Hold on to me, don't let go."

You nod against his lips, still shuddering. He taps the surprisingly heavy head on your clit, his wetness and yours creating a smack! noise.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he requests as he takes the tip of his cock and presses it at your entrance, not applying pressure yet.

“I’m ready, Geto,” you say desperately.

As much as you are scared, you’re also ready to feel him, to please him. To be as close as two humans can possibly be.

"Deep breath," he whispers, dipping his face.

You lift your chin to grab his mouth and bite down on his bottom lip as he pushes past your gummy threshold, feeling as your walls mold to the shape of his cock and swallow him up.

You try to keep your eyes open just to see the way his own roll to the back of his head as he pushes in, but the burning at your core makes your eyes squint shut as your nails dig into his back.

“Sh-shit,” he grumbles against your bite, as his hand jerks to find something to grip on, ultimately settling for the pillow next to your head.

“G-Geto, it-” hurts, feels good, burns, is exhilarating. All of these things are entering your mind as he enters you.

He gets about halfway deep and you feel yourself clenching around him, trying to relax, but it’s hard when it’s scary and a bit painful. It’s not the first time something has been inside of you, but this feeling is raw and unique, and he’s so much bigger than anything you’d ever put in there.

He pauses for a moment and you release his mouth from your teeth so that he can prop up on his elbow, and he looks down at you in amazement.

“Doing amazing so far, beautiful,” he praises, placing his palm on your cheek and stroking away the stray tear that is falling from your eye. “How do you feel?”

You nod your head, unsure for a moment if you can speak. “G-Good. J-Just trying to adjust.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” he plants a kiss to your earlobe before whispering, “let me know when you want me to keep going.”

You keep your hands on his back, then slide them down his arms, before dropping them behind your head.

Geto glances up, then takes his own hands up the side of your body and your arms before meeting his hands with yours and linking your fingers together.

You sigh against this touch. He’s no longer hovering over you and you are chest to chest, erect nipples brushing his chest. He buries his face in your neck and awaits your command.

“Go,” you whisper softly, and he does not hesitate to grind his hips further into yours.

Now, his cock is filling you from wall to wall, entrance to cervix. Your legs are shaking on either side of him as you stretch, ecstasy consuming you and making your brain turn to mush.

Geto’s wet mouth smacks sloppy kisses all over your neck as he pulls his hips back to begin his rhythmic stroking.

You arch against him and cry out.

“Mmh, feels so good,” is all you manage to mumble in his ear, and he responds by grazing your neck with his teeth.

The rain swooshes against the window in time with your cunt’s squelches, as you drip all over Geto’s length and down onto the mattress.

“Y’so p-perfect,” Geto whines against your neck, and for several moments he pumps silently and softly into your core, driving you to a feeling you’d never thought was possible.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His hips roll with the howl of the rain, slowly but deep. Your wooden bed creaks in his wake, adding to the symphony of sex in the room.

“Faster,” you hear yourself moan in his ear, and his hips pick up momentum.

They clap against your skin softly as he works harder to slam his cock against your taut insides.

“So warm,” he mumbles, propping himself up to look down at you, and you grip onto his hands tighter. “Shouldn’t feel th-this good.”

You grunt out a pathetic cry as his new pace results in him hitting a new spot, one he continues to press into upon hearing your response to it.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Oh shit, Geto, right there.”

“Right there?” he echoes in a silky tone, pinning your hands further into the pillows as he fucks harder into you, still maintaining his soft kisses along your jaw.

Now that the pain is disappearing, ecstasy consumes all of your thoughts, and it seems to come naturally to you what to do next.

You pull your legs up and wrap them around his back, linking your ankles just over his waistline, and it creates a new angle for Geto to pound you from.

“Hngh - oh,” Geto’s eyelids flutter. He’s hitting another new spot that makes you feel like your groin is going to explode. “Pretty girl, I don’t wanna finish so soon, but if you keep me like this…”

“Don’t care,” you shake your head, wanting to feel what it’s like to be filled with the aftermath of a man’s orgasm. “Wanna take it all.”

“Don’t say - mmh,” Geto cuts himself off and dips his head back into your sweaty neck. “God, I… I think I love you.”

You gasp at his sultry confession. Of course, you had been taking care of him for a while. Though you hadn’t known his human form for long, he’d known you. He was the first person you’d come across in a long time, but in all your life, absolutely the kindest. Was it really that insane to think the two of you could be… in love?

“I-I love you too,” you reply without much thought, using the leverage on your legs to grind yourself down onto him as he pumps.

Your wetness covers his groin which has the underside of your thighs soaked, nearly sticking the two of you together as his strokes become sloppier, wetter, his cock drenching your insides in precum.

You feel him squelching around inside of you, stretching your poor virgin walls to their peak, wringing immeasurable pleasure from deep in your guts.

“Hah - mm,” Geto whines, now mercilessly drilling as deep as he can go.

It hurts but you’re taking it so well, and it shows in the way Geto is mumbling praises in your ear.

Good girl, so good, so wet, mon amour, take it.

He lets out a deep groan and then, he’s grabbing your knees and unwrapping your legs from around him. In a flash, he has you flipped to your side, and he slides behind you, as if you were back in your cuddling position from this morning.

“Just needed to switch it up,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing your shoulder.

“Mm, what are you gonna do?” you question him, and he shows you when he slides his cock between your coated thighs and pulls a gasp from you.

His hand finds your hip and grips it. “Tell me if you don’t like it, we’ll go back to the other way, yeah?”

You nod, but there’s a twist in your stomach at this exciting new angle, as Geto lifts your leg up and holds the underside of your thigh in the air. You twist backwards to put your arm around his neck, and he kisses yours.

“‘Member what I said?” he reminds raspily in your ear, “just hold onto me. I’ve got you.”

“Please, just put it back already,” you whine needily, and Geto doesn’t hesitate to push himself back into your crying hole.

This new angle hits you deep in your belly. Geto’s hand flattens out over your lower stomach and presses down. Inside of your guts, Geto’s cock is jerking hungrily, needing to feel every inch of you sliding back onto him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

He keeps his hold on your thigh, his chin on your shoulder, biting and licking and moaning into your ear.

“S-So good, angel,” he huffs out, and all you can do is whimper as he grinds his thin hips into your backside.

“Ngh - kitty,” you whine, “where’d y-you learn this?”

Geto responds by kissing your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything aloud, instead shuts you up by fastening his pace, thundering into you in competition with the lightning from the rainstorm.

His hand glides down the side of your body and takes a handful of your ass, digging his nails into it as if he is going to slip away.

“I… regrettably think I’m gonna c-cum,” Geto stammers.

Something overcomes you, and you spin around, still on his cock. His perfect lips form a shocked, ‘O’ shape, and you put your hand against his throat, softly, applying a slight amount of pressure to each side. You adjust your legs to be on either side of him.

“Cum for me,” you mutter, shocking yourself, and Geto’s response is a guttural, pathetic groan.

“Why’d you have to - hngh - nooo-“

And not a moment more passes before he’s hopelessly spilling into you, cock jerking against the top of your sticky walls, nails breaking open the skin on your hips as you round them over his cock to drag out every drop you can.

The warmth of his cum inside of you makes your body writhe, squeezing his length painfully as your own orgasm comes intensely - covering him in watery fluid.

“G-Geto, I’m-” you can’t get the word out, you are shocked but have no way of telling him due to how fucked out you currently are.

“Agh - so beautiful,” he mumbles, bringing his strokes to a conclusion. He remains inside of you for several unearthly moments, your cunt twitching around his shakey cock.

Then you use the leverage of your legs around his waist to push yourself up and down, up and down.

Geto’s eyes bulge and then roll backwards. “Oh, oh shit.”

Your hands grip onto his shoulders for more leadway.

“Does that feel good?” you question him, a little unsure why you’ve decided to do this, knowing he’s already cum inside of you.

“Y-Yes,” Geto grumbles, leaning forward to plant a sloppy, needy kiss against your mouth before he parts his lips and holds them there - so fucked and barely able to contain his moans. “D-Do y’even know what you’re doing?”

Your body is tingling with the leftover feeling of your orgasm as you slide down on Geto in this laying position, and having him still hard inside of you does feel weird but - you like it.

“No,” you answer honestly. “I-It just feels good.”

Geto nods desperately, “Don’t stop, please.”

You obey his wish by sliding faster, feeling your walls pulsate around his cock as you push both of you beyond your limits. Whoever said sex had to end with orgasms is a loser, you think.

“Geto, you filled me up so well,” you say, “s-so glad you were m-my first.”

Geto looks up and forces his eyes open. He smiles at you through gritted teeth, “I-I’m glad too, m-mon amour.”

Him stuttering like this is doing dangerous things to your cunt, causing you to gush and pool on him even more than before. Geto notices and grabs a handful of your hair.

“O-Okay,” he shudders, and begins to laugh. “Maybe - maybe we can stop now.”

“Hmm? You sure?” you tease, and he shakes his head.

“No, but don’t know if I can take it,” his smug laughter has faded back into pathetic whimpers, and your cunt hates the thought of not being able to hear these noises from him.

You sigh softly regardless, and smile at him, before halting your movements and laying there; his cock now covered in cream and cum, stagnant inside of you.

He takes the pause to catch his breath and there you stay, cock inside, arms intertwined.

He releases your hair and puts his palm on your cheek, pulling your face towards his to kiss him.

“Perfect,” he says. “I wish that I could spend all twenty-four hours as a human with you.”

You sigh softly, “I do too. But I am glad we even get to know each other in this lifetime, let alone spend the time together.”

A moment too soon, he begins to slide out of you with a smile and both of you moan at the gushy feeling. He sits up on his elbow and stares directly between your legs to watch his cum drip out of you.

Then he sits all the way up, on his knees; his hair sticking to the crown of his face by sweat.

You lay there, all kinds of fluids dripping slowly out of you still, breathing in his scent that he’d left behind on the pillow.

“Geto, did you mean what you said?” you ask suddenly, forcing yourself to sit up, your insides squishing around, a slight pain jarring up your tummy.

Geto glances down at you, eyes still dark with lust. “About what?”

“That you love me,” you question, cocking your head to the side. “We’ve only known each other a short time, I-I just…”

“I meant it,” he says softly, falling onto his bottom, before pulling you up on onto his lap, his fluids and yours dripping all over him. “I think that if you are capable of feeling such strong things so quickly, it must be real and true.”

Your eyelids flutter softly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers down his back.

“It’s just that I’ve never had anyone love me for me,” you say. “I literally live alone because no one else ever accepted me.”

“Well,” Geto nuzzles your neck and kisses your collarbone, “I am equally a delinquent as you are. We are one in the same, and I think you are perfect for me. You showed me kindness when you didn’t have to, so yes, I love you.”

You smile, in your happy little post-ecstasy bubble. The rain pours still, and the clouds remain grey, but as long as Geto is around, you know that will always be able to see the sun.

A/N

why…. why am i SOBBING

this is the life our little baby deserved (with gojo) goodbye!!

and that concludes JJK HALLOWEEN! let’s take a bow everyone, i couldn’t have done it without your support!!

jjkhalloween!! is gonna forever be remembered as the series that got me jump started on this platform and im gonna remember the absolute fun I had writing it for the rest of my days :’)

this community is so welcoming and sweet and i love all of you guys and your kind words and reblogs it means EVERYTHING to my poor little jjk heart even if i’m a boomer who doesn’t know how to reply!1!1!

mwah mwah, now onto new things!!! <3

~ pennjammin

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut

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eamour · 11 months ago

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dream the dream.

think of your life as a dream. think of all of the things surrounding you as objects who are completely under your control and can only do, say and move according to your commands — because that’s what it is! a dream only you are entirely in charge of.

postscript before you dive into this post, i would like to give credits to edward art as this post has been inspired by his lecture "dream the dream" which is the 17th part of his series on reddit!

this is your dream.

this dream belongs to you as you are its dreamer. what you think of appears the second it comes to your mind. you can do anything you want, simply because you can dream anything you want. you can witness anything you want, you can experience anything you want, you can even incorporate your senses and see, feel, taste, smell and touch things to your liking. being able to dream any dream gives you a feeling of relief, of power, of confidence and certainty. you know you can have anything you want the minute you want it. but what if you felt this exact way about THIS life?

dream a greater dream.

if you can imagine anything you want, go into as much detail as you like and make it come to pass, why wouldn’t you do it? wouldn’t it be your greatest desire to explore what you are capable of doing? what would you dream of? what would you imagine? what would you create?

the transformative dream.

see, this dream of yours is as malleable and as changeable as it gets. you cannot make any "mistakes" since anything you create, you can correct. you aren’t tied to anything, there are no promises between you and your creation, you owe nothing and nobody anything. everything can easily be transformed and adjusted. the world is at your command!

imagine the feeling.

what i would advise you to do is to imagine and "dream" as if everything you are now desiring to have is present. it’s here. it exists. and it’s yours, in this given moment.

get rid of the outer world and anything physical that depicts and obstacle or unfavourable circumstance to you.

let go of the idea to "try to manifest", to "hope to get", to "wish to have" or to "want to be".

and last but not least, change your inner-world, your imagination, your DREAM to your deepest wish and make it a reality. start to live your desires.

everything is a feeling.

the reason i said to no longer "try to manifest", to "hope to get", to "wish to have" or to "want to be" is because all of these are FEELINGS. feelings that declare you are not in possession of what you want, at least not yet. "affirming to get", "trying to resolve", "manifesting against", "attempting to make something happen", "intending to manifest" are all feelings that will accompany you once you enter the act of imagination — and guess what? they are more than likely to prevent and disrupt you from actually feeling the way you would want to feel.

dream from within.

i know, we technically all already "dream from within" but with "within" i'm actually referring to what or who you deeply and truly wish to have or be. dream from a place where you don’t accept less than you want, where you are unwilling to settle for less and where you simply cannot hold back from imagining what you want to its greatest detail.

a word to the dreamer.

be bold. be stubborn. leave the world as it is for there is nothing to do and nothing to force on the outside. all the change that you could want has to come and be done from within. so only deal with your inner world and promise yourself that you will only let yourself imagine things which are beneficial for you and accept it as your one and only reality. as edward art said, KNOW your power and FEEL your abilities to be true and infinite!

with love, ella.

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starmocha · 5 months ago

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fly to you like birds do [Sylus/Reader ★ 2642 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus can't sleep A/N: I have no idea what happened. It was supposed to be just smut, but I guess we’re sandwiching the smut between some fluff instead. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was well past two in the morning when Sylus stepped out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to his hair. He dried himself and slipped on just a pair of simple burgundy pajamas bottom. There was a heat wave outside, and though the air conditioner was running inside his home, Sylus still felt restless. He returned to his room, still tensed, knowing sleep was not going to be in his favor tonight.

He stopped in his track when he heard his phone ringing. How peculiar, he thought, considering the time. Stepping closer to his bed, he saw your picture and name flashed up on the screen. Smiling, he answered, turning on the speaker:

“Is this my pretty little hunter calling me?”

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before he heard your voice: “I dialed by mistake.”

“I’m sure you did,” he responded cordially, humoring you in spite of seeing through the thinly-veiled fib. He placed the phone on the nightstand and climbed into bed under satin cover. The sound of your voice instantly calmed him, and he continued, “It’s two in the morning. Why are you still up?”

Silence followed his question again. Sylus frowned. “Hello?”

“I’m hanging up,” you declared, tone a pitch higher than intended, clearly embarrassed by this whole situation.

“Wait,” Sylus interrupted before you could end the call. He continued, “Don’t. Chat with me.”

“It’s two in the morning,” you echoed his earlier words back to him, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted, and then with a sly grin, he continued, “Maybe you could help me.”

There were slight shuffling noises on your end before you answered, confused, “How?”

“We can chat until we’re tired,” he said, turning to his side to face the phone. “We can start with why you called me in the first place, and don’t bother trying to lie to me again.”

You sighed, knowing you were never good at hiding things, especially from him. You admitted softly, “I can’t sleep either.”

“And your first thought was to call me? I’m touched.” He laughed when he heard your flustered voice on the other end. “Alright, alright, calm down, I was only teasing.”

“I don’t appreciate it,” you grumbled.

“My apologies then. Won’t you forgive me, Miss Hunter?”

“I think not.”

He hummed softly in amusement at your defiance. “Perhaps you would feel better if you punish me then.”

“Eh?”

“I have clearly wronged you,” he said, voice tinged with humor, “it is only right that I should be punished for my misdeed.”

Sylus could hear you talking quietly to yourself, clearly contemplating his words. He laughed softly to himself as he stared at his phone, picturing you in your apartment flabbergasted by the direction of this phone call. “Alright, time’s up,” he spoke up to your shocked gasp, “I gave you plenty of time to think, so unless…”

“Meow for me.”

“Pardon?”

“Meow for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Sylus chuckled, confused. “Are you serious?” he shook his head and questioned you again, “You are asking the leader of Onychinus to…meow?”

“Uh huh,” you answered, this time pleased with yourself for reducing this powerful man to a state of utter bewilderment. “Please?”

He sighed. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he paused, and then he cleared his throat, “Meow.”

There was a pause. Sylus couldn’t hear anything other than the air conditioner running in his home, and just as he was about to check in on you, you spoke up with a squeal:

“You purred.”

“Is that not what cats do?”

“Well, yes. But. You purred.”

“We’ve established that already,” he said evenly, unsure of why this was making you so delighted. “Have I been forgiven?”

He smiled when he heard your giggle on the other end: “Yes, I’ve forgiven you.”

Sylus lay back down in bed, his eyes darting to the clock on his nightstand. He sighed. “It’s 2:35. Are you still restless?”

“Mm, yes,” you responded. “Are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep now?”

“I can’t sleep,” he reminded you again. “Then let’s continue. How was your day?”

Sylus lay there, listening to you describe your day, unbothered when you took too many tangents to get to a very anticlimactic ending of a very mundane story. He occasionally chimed in, but for the most part, he was more interested in just hearing your voice, listening to the subtle changes in tone and picturing your expression as you retold your day. He barely noticed you were done speaking until you called out to him, asking him about his own day.

“My day? Normal,” he answered vaguely.

“That’s cryptic.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, and you knew that was all you were going to get out of him.

“Sylus?”

“What is it?”

“What are you wearing?”

Sylus once again paused, surprised by the question that came out of left field. Once he composed himself, he smirked and answered, “Pajamas bottom. Should I also describe the color and material as well?”

“Please do.”

Sylus laughed and shook his head. “Burgundy and cotton.”

“Ah.”

Sylus raised a brow. “Not that I am complaining about this change in topic, but care to explain yourself, sweetheart?”

“I was curious,” you admitted in half-truth, “If I can picture what you are wearing, it would be like you are next to me right now.”

“How cute,” he cooed, unaware that he was making you blush with his voice, “Then may I ask what you are wearing, my dear?”

“An oversized shirt.”

“How unsexy,” he answered, disappointed.

“It’s yours.”

Oh. Well, that certainly changed everything, Sylus decided, intrigued now.

“My shirt?” The mental image of you in his shirt was definitely having an effect he didn’t realize it could. All wrapped up in his shirt, much too big for you, the sleeves too long, the length going down to your thighs—he was definitely appreciating the picture being painted in his mind. Sylus stifled back a groan, and continued in as even a voice as he could, “And how did you manage to obtain one of my shirts without my knowledge?”

“I took it from your place,” you confessed, “It was the one that I had accidentally spilled wine on, so I felt bad and tried to wash it out for you.”

“I appreciate the gesture, though I do have other shirts and it can easily be replaced.” He sensed your immediate quietness as a sign of embarrassment. He knew you did this as a sign of apology, and he quickly surmised his dismissive tone must have hurt your feelings, so he changed his phrasing: “Why haven’t you returned it to me then?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity,” you answered, tone dropping, a hint of sadness creeping through, “We haven’t seen each other lately.”

Ah. Sylus was catching on to the reason for this sudden late-night call. “And why are you wearing it now?”

Silence again.

“Sweetheart?”

That one word seemed to have broken a dam, and Sylus was surprised by the sudden quiet admission: “It feels like you.”

“You missed me,” he stated, and when he didn’t hear you respond, he wondered if his tone might have hurt you in some way again. He continued with a sigh, “I miss you, too.”

“Sylus…”

“I miss seeing you,” he added, knowing he was sounding a little more vulnerable than normal. “The sound of your voice…your smiles…the way…”

He paused, realizing the reason for his own restlessness. It wasn’t because of the heat wave happening throughout the city. Rather, it was the lack of a different kind of heat that was making him agitated.

“Sylus?”

“The way you feel in my arms,” he finished.

You didn’t respond, and Sylus laughed. “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

“N-No!”

“Liar.”

He could hear you huffing in annoyance. Just as he was about to continue in his teasing, you hit him with another piece of information about your sleepwear:

“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

“I-I see…” He paused, contemplating, before he questioned you, “Nothing? No—”

“No shorts. No panties.”

Well, that picture had unquestionably gotten even more interesting for Sylus. He held back another groan, as he pictured now just your bare body, caressed by nothing but just his shirt.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” you teased him, feeling triumphant for finally having the upper-hand in this phone conversation.

“Such arrogance,” he mumbled low, smirking, “Maybe you should take responsibility for making me so hard then.”

There was a surprised squeak.

He laughed low. “Come now, it’s only fair.”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Don’t know?”

“I…I don’t know how…I mean we’re just talking…”

Sylus leaned back against his pillows and laughed. “It’s because we’re talking that I am feeling this way now,” he answered low, his hands already tugging his bottoms down to discard to the side. He groaned softly at the sight of his erect penis. He continued, “Aren’t you feeling something from our conversation?”

“Y-yeah…” you admitted, “I…I think I am…”

He hummed softly, closing his eyes, the image of you in his shirt was once again before him.

“Need my pretty little cock-warmer,” he murmured, his hand wrapped around his hard member, a clear soft hiss escaped his lips. He lazily stroked himself as he continued to speak to you on the phone, his tone carrying shades of sensualness, “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You flustered. “I-I have been…”

“No,” he interrupted you firmly, “Talk to me.”

“I…”

“Touch yourself,” he commanded.

You trembled at the sound of his firm voice, the dominating tone made you hesitantly slipped your hand inside the shirt you were wearing, your hand finding your breast. You toyed with your nipple, whimpering as it became firm.

“Where are you touching yourself?”

“M-my breast…”

Sylus hummed again, eyes still closed, but now he was picturing his large hand on your breast, massaging it gently, pinching your nipple until they were firm as you moan softly underneath him. He wanted to take that nipple in his mouth and sucked on it as he massaged your other breast, wanted to feel you squirm against him, your hands running through his hair as he ravaged you and keep you held down by the heavy weight of his body on yours.

“Sweetheart…”

“Sylus…”

“Take off my shirt.”

You immediately obeyed him. “It’s…it’s off.”

“Good girl,” he purred. “Lay back in bed, picture me with you.”

His voice sounded like it was an octave lower, soft pants escaped his lips as he continued to leisurely stroke himself. “Need you spread out beneath me.”

You felt a heat building up inside you as you listened to him speak, that devilishly deep voice always stirring something sinful within you. With each erotic word spoken by him, you parted your legs slightly and your hand moved lower to touch yourself somewhere much more intimate.

“Want to feel just how wet you can get for me.”

You let out a whimper, picturing his sharp ruby red eyes staring you down, his own fingers touching you. You rubbed your clit, tossing your head to the side with a moan, wishing it was his hand instead touching you, needing his lips on you, the feel of him against you.

“Want to taste you, sweetheart, eat you out until you come.”

You gasped at the picture, your legs trembling as you started to touch yourself more urgently. It wasn’t enough. You needed something more, something bigger…thicker—Sylus.

“Ohh, Sylus…”

“F-fuck…” he groaned at the sound of your moan. “Sweetheart, a man could get intoxicated hearing such sweet moaning…”

“Sylus…”

“Speak to me…what do you want?”

“You…”

Sylus let out a low moan, his pace increasing. “Sweetheart,” he gasped, feeling his arousal getting stronger at the sound of your voice growing needier, “need my cock buried inside you. Need my sweet little cock-warmer in my bed under me.”

He continued to mumble, “You always take me so well, always feel so good having you wrapped around my cock.”

That did something to you. You started to gasp into the phone as you writhed in bed, fingers sliding into your slick entrance as you so badly wished it really was his cock pounding into you. You curled up in bed face buried into your pillow, as you chased after the climax that was starting to build up inside. You couldn’t help the whines that came out of your mouth, knowing he was hearing every single incoherent word and noise you were making alone in your room through the phone. “Sy-Sylus…more…tell me more…please…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he was panting, sounding like, he, too, was losing himself in the image he was painting, “Want to hear more of your sweet moans, ah, want to see your face all flushed, all teary-eyed, as I fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want to feel my cock inside you?”

“Oh, god, yes!” Your hips buck against your hand. You were close, the way he described everything with that deep, rich, and sultry voice was having you clench around your own fingers. You rubbed your sensitive clit, but the mental image that it was him touching you instead had you crying out louder than expected.

“Need you now, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Need you so fucking bad, need you to cum on my cock, need to fill you up with my seed—such a good girl, such a pretty girl you are all flushed up as you take all of me—cum, cum for me, sweetheart—”

Sylus let out a groan at the same time he heard you screamed through the phone, the sound of your climax had him spilling into his hand. He lay panting hard in bed, his eyes shut, reliving the moment he heard you scream. The knowledge that he was able to bring you to orgasm through a mere phone call was a source of pride, especially when the two of you were so far away.

Still, he ached, wanting to feel your skin against his. He wanted to pull you into his embrace and let you relax in his arms as you both bask in the afterglow together. He wanted to feel your head resting on his chest, your soft hair brushing against his cheek, his lips on yours.

He sighed.

Several minutes passed as the two of you tried to even your breathing again. Sylus was the first to speak up, his voice soft and gentler than normal, “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

“No,” you protested this time in spite of your exhaustion.

“No?” There was amusement in his voice upon hearing your objection. “Why not?”

You were grateful he couldn’t see your blush. At his gentle coaxing, you admitted softly, “I don’t want to hang up.”

“It’s late,” he reminded you again.

Hearing silence, Sylus could sense your disappointment and he softened. “Alright,” he conceded, “Do you want to keep talking? Normally this time.”

He heard an indignant yelp for the latter comment before it was followed by weak mumbling: “I don’t know what to talk about…”

“What do you want then? Tell me.”

After a few beats, you confessed softly, “I just want to hear your voice.”

Sylus was both surprised and pleased. “My voice?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, then,” he started, a hint of mischievousness laced his voice, “If that is what my dear little hunter wants, then who am I to deny her this sweet request? Shall I lull you to sleep with my voice then?”

Your felt butterflies fluttering in your belly as he spoke. You knew he was relishing in this moment, but as embarrassing as it was for you, you were happy that he was so compliant.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said warmly, and you obediently followed his command, setting your phone close to you as you relaxed in bed. “And just listen to the sound of my voice…”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #lnds smut #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #x — fanfics #i have once again sacrificed sleep because of this mf #and yet i still have a few more sylus wips to polish up ehehe #next time they video chat (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿) jk unless…#zayne xav and raf waiting for me to stop being a hoe and go back to finishing their wips: (´･_･`)

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librababe99 · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Her: Part Two

A/N: I originally intended for this to be a standalone BUT was inspired to continue on! I hope this lives up to the first part <3 How would we feel about a third part? Potentially concluding this mini series! As always comments and feedback are appreciated! My asks are also open! CW: Angst, hurt no comfort, love triangle Word Count: 1232

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · ·

You had become a ghost in your own life, haunting the corridors of the mansion with a hollow heart. Days passed in a blur of meaningless routine, the vibrant colors of your world now faded to shades of gray. You threw yourself into training, missions, anything to keep the pain at bay, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape it. The memory of that night, the way you’d left Logan standing in the dimly lit room, haunted you relentlessly.

But what hurt more was the silence that followed.

Logan had kept his distance since then, retreating into himself as you had done. The mansion was a big place, but not big enough to avoid the constant threat of running into him, of catching a fleeting glimpse of the man who had once been your everything. When you did cross paths, the tension was suffocating, neither of you willing to break the silence that hung between you like a shroud.

You knew it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. And tonight, as you sat alone in your room, the quiet too loud, the walls too close, you felt the dam begin to break.

A knock at your door pulled you from the edge of your thoughts, and your heart stuttered in your chest. You didn’t need to ask who it was. You already knew.

“Come in,” you called out, your voice trembling.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Logan stood in the doorway, the dim light casting shadows across his rugged features. He looked as exhausted as you felt, his eyes dark with something that looked like regret. But there was something else, too—something that made your breath catch in your throat.

Pain.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to find your voice. The silence stretched between you, heavy and oppressive, until Logan finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“I’ve been trying to stay away,” he admitted, his eyes locked on yours. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this, kid.”

The old nickname, once a sign of affection, now felt like a knife twisting in your gut. “Logan, why are you here?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Because I’m tired of pretending. Tired of acting like this doesn’t hurt like hell.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you sucked in a sharp breath. “What do you want me to say? That it doesn’t hurt me too? That I don’t think about you every second of every day?”

Logan’s eyes softened, the vulnerability in them nearly breaking you. “I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Maybe you can’t,” you replied, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Maybe some things are too broken to be put back together.”

His face fell, the defeat in his eyes shattering what little resolve you had left. “Is that what you want? To just give up on us?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to keep loving you when I know you can’t give me all of you.”

Logan’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “It’s not that simple. You know it’s not. Jean… she’s in my blood, in my bones. But you—you’re in my heart, and I don’t know how to make sense of any of it.”

His words cut deeper than any blade ever could, and you felt the tears you’d been holding back start to fall. “Then what do you want from me, Logan? What do you expect me to do with that?”

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands gripping your arms, his touch burning through the fabric of your shirt. “I don’t know,” he growled, his voice thick with desperation. “I don’t know, and it’s driving me insane.”

You wrenched yourself free from his grasp, your tears flowing freely now. “You don’t get to do this, Logan. You don’t get to come in here and tell me you care, only to turn around and break my heart all over again.”

“I’m trying,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I’m trying to be what you need, but I’m so goddamn scared I’m going to fail you.”

The rawness in his voice made your heart ache, but it also fueled the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface. “You already have,” you spat, the words venomous. “You failed me the moment you made me fall in love with you, knowing you could never fully love me back.”

Logan flinched as if you’d struck him, the pain in his eyes almost too much to bear. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I hate myself for it?”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in as you struggled to breathe. “Then why are you here, Logan? Why now?”

He took a step back, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of your words was too much. “Because I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Not you. Not like this.”

Your heart shattered at his confession, the pieces cutting deep into your soul. You wanted to believe him, to believe that there was a way out of this mess, but the reality of it all was too overwhelming.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort to hold yourself together. “We’re stuck in a cycle of hurting each other, and I don’t know if we’ll ever break free.”

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”

But you didn’t have an answer. There was no easy fix, no simple solution. Love was messy, complicated, and in your case, it was laced with an impossible choice that neither of you knew how to make.

“I don’t know if we can,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “And that scares me more than anything.”

Logan reached out, his hand trembling as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears. “I’m scared too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’d rather be scared with you than lose you.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe you could find a way through this, together. But the fear of being hurt again, of loving him only to watch him drift back into the shadows of his past, held you back.

“I need time,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s face fell, but he nodded, his hand dropping to his side. “I’ll wait,” he promised, his voice hoarse. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You wanted to believe that time would heal the wounds between you, but as Logan turned to leave, the door clicking shut behind him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that some scars might never fully fade.

And as you stood there in the silence of your room, the tears still streaming down your face, you couldn’t help but wonder if love—no matter how deep—was enough to bridge the gap between your fractured hearts.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · ·

Tag list: @sasuke-kun0 @littledebbieinabigworld

(Part three)

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #x men #james logan howlett x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/angst #hugh jackman #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine #wolverine xmen #love triangle #Echoes of Her

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koiiiji · 3 months ago

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unexpected comfort

author’s note ; continuing to secret friends series. and i did this rarity & patrick bateman edit myself so u know the rules.

summary ; suddenly Gitae can be soft. just a little.

Gitae Kim had arrived in korea with a purpose. as the head of a notorious mafia organization, he was no stranger to the underworld, and now he was here to assist Goo Kim with some of his more clandestine operations. cold and calculating, Gitae had little patience for distractions, especially when it came to romance or anything resembling affection.

Goo and his secret friends gang left for another business, Gitae settled into the office, intending to catch up on some paperwork. as he sorted through papers on the table, a faint thud echoed from the other room. instinctively, he moved toward the sound, only to find you sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

“hey, brat,” he muttered, nudging you with his foot. you didn’t stir.

rolling his eyes, Gitae decided to take matters into his own hands. he bent down, scooping you up with surprising gentleness, and placed you on the couch. however, as he did, you instinctively leaned into his hand, your head falling against his shoulder. he froze, a mixture of irritation and something softer swirling within him.

“seriously?” he grumbled, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through him. he felt an unusual pang of reluctance to disturb you, akin to the feeling one gets when a cat curls up in their lap. he tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him as you snuggled closer.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

the door swung open, and Goo, Seongeun, Taejin, and Taesung walked in, their raucous laughter abruptly halting as they took in the sight before them: the golden light filled the room and Gitae sitting on the black, leather couch, looking through some papers in his hands, while you nestled against him, drooling on his shoulder.

Goo’s eyes lit up with mischief. “oh man, this is priceless,” he whispered, pulling out his phone. without distracting from the papers, Gitae’s expression hardened instantly. “don’t even think about it or i’ll cut off your fingers and make you regret your life decisions,” he warned, his voice low and dangerously calm. gang burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the scene. Taejin leaned against the wall, shaking his head, while Seongeun couldn’t stop grinning. Taesung simply looked amused, habitually putting his hand in his pants

Goo blinked, taken aback. “whoa, chill, chill! i was just — ”

“can you just not!” Gitae snapped, his eyes narrowing. stepping closer, peering at you with concern Goo asked “did she faint?”

“seems like it,” Gitae replied, glancing down at you. “she’s just a brat, though. didn’t even bother to warn anybody.”

the tension in the air was thick, but Goo couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face. “poor thing, don’t you think so, huh?”

Gitae’s expression shifted slightly as he glanced down at you, still drooling on his shoulder. but now it was the lesser of two evils. he just found a gold. “actually,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “i plan on taking her back to mexico with me.”

Goo’s eyes widened in shock. “what? no! you can’t just steal my secret friends!” Gitae grinned looking down at papers before him. finding information about his business in mexico, finding out who is who and what each person is doing, a lot of personal information, and all this you dug up in a couple of hours with computer fraud? impressive. and he also caught you fainting in time, it seems like you were preparing a report for that cunning fox Goo.

“brat is too good at digging up information, and i need smart people in my organization,” Gitae replied, crossing his arms with an air of finality. Goo wanted to object again, but then, with a soft moan and a snuffling sound, you opened your eyes slightly, slowly coming to your senses. and while you were still processing what was happening, you glanced between Goo’s frantic expression and Gitae’s cold demeanor, you didn’t understand a thing.

as you fully awoke, confusion clouded your mind. “what’s going on?” you asked, looking up at Goo.

he sighed dramatically, “someone here wants to steal my secret friends, to spy on his own businesses!! can you imagine?!!”

you froze, as you understand that it was only you in this room, smart enough to fit that description. your eyes darting back to Gitae, and your heart sank. the reality of having fallen asleep on him, drooling, hit you hard. fear washed over you as you realized how vulnerable you had been. Gitae’s gaze was as icy as ever, his earlier devilish smile now replaced with that signature cold stare. he seemed to take pleasure in your discomfort, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

as you finally stirred fully awake, blinking in confusion, you suddenly realized your head was still resting on Gitae’s shoulder. eventually, your eyes fluttered open wider, and you blinked in confusion, taking a moment to double check your surroundings. when you realized where you were — and who you were with — you quickly sat up, wiping drool off your chin, a deep blush creeping onto your cheeks. panic set in, and you quickly sat up, brushing your hair from your face. “oh no! i’m so sorry!” embarrassment flooding your voice.

Gitae shrugged, trying to sound annoyed. “it’s fine, brat. just… don’t make it a habit.”

“and next time, try to sleep at a reasonable hour,” he said coldly, his voice echoing in the room. “you’re not invincible.”

he shot you a glare, but there was no real malice behind it. “brat,” he muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to his paperwork.

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#lookism #lookism imagines #lookism fic #lookism imagine #webtoon lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #lookism kim gitae #kim gitae x you #kim gitae x reader #lookism gitae #gitae kim

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carmenized-onions · 5 months ago

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Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him.

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck.

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—”

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all. “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.�� You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M’Good, you eat.”

You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee.

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink.

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups.

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where.

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy.

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off.

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence.

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed.

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen x oc #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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