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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

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Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me?

renaldo x younger!reader

summary: he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (alternatively: your fun bachelor uncle crashes your sister's wedding and then your pussy in the bathroom while everyone else is drunk or dancing, based on my own tweet)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50/25), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + pain + humiliation kink (this combo fr), exhibition kink, forced creampie, no mommy kink but he calls her mami (as in a petname), nasty!renaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst ig?

word count: 5,130 words

side note: the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by pedro!renaldo in the newest domingo sketch (God, i love marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic; i hadn't wrote like this since my sebstan days (wdyk about dilf-docs lore huh). here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely new citizens BECAUSE WE HIT A 1K POPULATION

You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.

You lean to your left.

"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.

"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)

You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"

Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?

"What are y'all doing?"

Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:

"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)

"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)

"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"

"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)

"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.

Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"

Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"

"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.

You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.

"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.

Benito snickers.

"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)

You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.

"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."

In some ways, you hadn't either.

"Yeah" he agrees.

"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"

"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.

Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"

You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)

"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"

You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.

"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)

You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.

"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"

"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"

In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.

Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.

You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.

"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"

More like that sturdy body.

"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.

"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)

"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.

Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.

No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.

"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)

Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.

"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)

"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)

"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"

He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"

Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.

"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.

"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.

"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"

He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.

"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"

Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.

"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)

"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"

You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.

"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.

"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"

"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.

"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"

"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"

Why can't anyone just mind their own bussiness?

(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)

"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.

"What's going on?"

Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.

"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)

"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"

"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"

You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.

"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.

You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.

"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.

Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.

One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.

The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.

"You should've stayed inside"

You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.

"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.

"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"

You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"

A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to leave"

Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-

"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"

"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"

Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.

His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.

"Say it again"

"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.

"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"

"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.

"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"

The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.

"Renaldo"

His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.

"So pliant, doll. For me?"

You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.

A beat. "Might reward you for that"

He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.

Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"

"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.

"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"

Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"

He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.

He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.

"Still can't fucking say it"

But he insists you're the tease.

You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"

Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.

"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.

Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.

Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.

He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.

"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"

A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.

"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.

"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"

"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)

Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.

"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"

He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.

His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.

A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.

"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"

Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.

"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)

He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.

"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"

Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.

But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.

"Y/n?"

Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.

"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)

Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.

"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"

The kiss.

Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.

Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.

He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone.

"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.

"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.

"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.

"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"

"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"

You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.

"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"

You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.

"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"

He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"

To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.

"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.

"Badly" you cry out.

"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)

In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"

He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.

You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.

"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"

He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.

"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)

"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.

"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"

"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"

"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"

You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.

"I-I need to-"

"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"

"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.

He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.

"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"

You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.

"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.

"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"

"N-no"

"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"

His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.

"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"

"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"

He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.

"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.

You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.

"Yeah?"

"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?

You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.

"I'm all ears"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal snl #snl #snl 50 #sabrina carpenter #bad bunny #marcello hernandez #pedro pascal renaldo #renaldo #renaldo snl #renaldo x reader

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onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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alexiroflife · 8 months ago

Note

Okay but imagine if Sukuna's fav concubine successfully runs away from court life because she's tired of the bullying and walking around eggshells with Sukuna? (bonus points if he continues to be with other concubines) She ends up working in an orphanage or something ☠️ But do you think Sukuna will look for her or not???? 🤔🤔🤔 (manifesting that it's an angst to comfort 😌😌😌🤞🤞)

“betrayal”

heian era sukuna, just a tad different from the exact request but with the same principle

ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader

Synopsis: sukuna wakes one morning to find that you, his favorite concubine, are nowhere to be found. now, he must make your absence everyone else's problem.

to sum it up: you do not understand your relationship with sukuna, and it burdens you more to endure the abuse you receive from his favoritism than to stay

WC: 5,760

Warning(s): suggestive themessss, destructive treatment of some concubines, violence, twinge of angst

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

Sukuna’s voice is a roaring boom of thunder that can be heard even from the farthest floors of his grand estate, its bass shaking the walls as servants and concubines alike tremble upon hearing it.

The quivering hearts of those nearby are not at all settled when the sharp, alarming symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling resounds against the wooden floorboards and into the meticulously decorated wallpaper. A line of servants stand directly outside of Sukuna's quarters with sweat beading down their foreheads, serving to provide assistance if or whenever the lord calls for it.

And those who could keep far away, they avoid stepping anywhere near the vicinity of a raging Ryomen Sukuna for fear that the next thing broken will not be an antique lamp but their heads.

Sukuna's order of women, specifically, cower in their chambers, listening carefully to muffled noises so distant from them to catch even a glimpse of what may happen next. Concubines decked in floral kimonos huddle together, staring up at the ceiling with each crumble of debris that showers from overhead as a result of the large king's monstrous frame thudding about.

Uraume stands alone within Sukuna's chambers, having been called there directly, doing their best to keep a professionally calm face despite the subconscious jolt in their shoulders every time one of Sukuna's arms thrusts down into yet another expense that they will have to add to the day's damages when it.

"My lord," the king's right hand begins pensively, sneaking a hand out from its regal place within the cuffs of their kimono as the salmon haired demon resorts to furiously pacing back and forth. The white-haired servant tries their best to keep their balance with each step he takes, which could only be described as the parade of an elephant dancing around mice. "The handmaidens, butlers, and I have searched everywhere for her. There is no trace of her left in the estate."

Another loud crash shoots throughout the room, Uraume wincing yet quickly regaining their composure once Sukuna's crimson eyes snap back to them lividly. Uraume has seen their master in many forms, including anger, but this rage levels that of which they have seen displayed in him before. Sukuna's practically a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode with his arms swinging heavily at his sides, one occasionally switching to swipe over his chin, another propping over his hip temporarily. He's antsy, frighteningly so, and Uraume unfortunately, for the first time, has no clue what to do in this situation.

Mainly because this entire tantrum has been sparked by you, a lowly concubine, who has dared to betray her king's trust and loyalty to sneak off without a word. No one knows how long you have been gone, as it is the early morning, but Sukuna took notice the moment he began his day.

The entire estate is well aware of Sukuna's selective favoritism over you, though no one is exactly sure how it started. You are fairly new as well, having been with them for about half a year when the other concubines and servants have been lingering around for far longer.

When the King of Curses was first led to you, your kneeling stance with your head bowed to your hands and your beautiful purple kimono draping over your figure to the ground, he had little interest in you. Sure, your figure looked appealing on a general basis, and granted the demon had not even allowed himself five seconds to truly look at you, but he is unimpressed until your head raises and your (e/c) eyes meet his on command.

There is something in your gaze that Sukuna decided stands out against the desperate pleas whispering in those of previous concubines. Perhaps a bit of pain... disdain... a sourness that you attempt to mask with the generous warmth of your (s/c) skin and butterfly lashes, rather involuntarily, and Sukuna has to pause as he stares down at you with indifference.

Are you angry? He knows that the concubines in his care are hardly treated nicely by those bringing them to his feet, but boo hoo. You're a woman, and a concubine at that. If you're wallowing over unfair treatment, then you surely have no place in his brothel.

But then, you hold his stare for as long as he examines you. His eyes scatter over your features, taking them in silently with no care for whether you are growing nervous under him. Even if you are, however, he can not tell. Your eyes are so clear as if they have never told a lie, and you are not challenging him but giving him the opportunity to soak you in even longer.

"Stand," he suddenly, gruffly orders, and you do with such poise. You close your eyes politely and push yourself to your feet slowly, opening your eyes once more once you are on your feet.

Hell, you're tiny, much like the rest of the women compared to all of his seven foot glory, yet you do not shrink under his shadow. You stand proud, serene, as though you know you are a rare prize, and Sukuna can do nothing but make a strange noise of unitelligible affirmation under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Send her to my chambers in an hour. I shall see if this lowly woman can appease me."

And by the grace of his name, you do.

He doesn't even have to be inside you for longer than a second to be completely thrown by your warmth, the way your tight cunt responds to him so obediently after he's bullied one of his lengths into your drooling hole, the plush of your ass gripped lethally within his claws and drawing strands of blood as he plows into you inhumanely.

And you take it. You whine, and groan, and cry, but you beg for more and thank him for every monstrous inch he gives you. He does not even mean to go over his normal set time with his concubines of about twenty minutes when he finds he's been fucking you for hours, and your body is still with him.

You've become a babbling, tear-stained, overstimulated mess with your fingers digging into the pillow that your face is smashed in, his second throbbing cock well situated now into your bum as he thrusts relentlessly like some sort of vicious animal. You're aching, trembling and hardly speaking a lick of sense, but Sukuna only pushes you farther, for he just can not get enough.

Consequently, you slowly begin to find yourself in his bed once a week, then twice, then about three or four times... then maybe twice in a day, and hell, why not just drag you along with him as much as he possibly can all seven days of the week?

Sukuna takes an immense liking to you, so much so that he begins to allow you to speak less and less formally with him behind closed doors. He'd ridicule you for being late, and with politeness still soaked in your voice, you'd say something smart like:

"I was not aware that thirty seconds was considered late, my lord."

Sukuna knows then that he's begun to let you get away with too much, yet as he fucks you into next week as punishment, he tells himself internally that he could get used to this.

You are far more than beauty. You are class, grace, and character that the other concubines severely lack, and the next thing you know, Sukuna is ordering you to sit on his thigh upon his throne with him as he listens to citizens or servants speak.

The salmon-haired demon has attempted to entertain other selections of his concubines, simply to conduct an experiment for himself if he can still derive pleasure from the others, but after at least ten rather boring fucks with women who are not you, he concludes that you are the best of them. Of them all.

And you are so humble, taking on his attention. You walk about the halls as though you are no more special than the others, which you are, and it has the girls boiling over the top with jealousy.

The bullying starts rather quickly after your favoritism is known.

You return to your quarters to find your bedding ripped apart, or feel elbows jab into your back as you pass by that is often brushed off as an "accident" with a conniving snicker and a toss of hair, or insults splattered in ink all over the inside of your kimonos that you can not wash out.

You have never brought this to Sukuna's attention, for you felt there was no need, especially since all of you are under his care despite the feuds spreading about. Whenever you need a new kimono or sheets, you go to Uraume, who asks no questions and simply replaces the things damaged. They already know what’s going on, and though they recognize you as a favorite, they do not share anything with Sukuna either on the direct order that he should not be bothered by concubine business unless it has to do with him.

And that is what you are. A concubine, no matter how the lord favors you, how often he tells you with his fangs dipped into your neck and his fingers gripping any limb of your body that it feels as though you are made for him. No matter how delicately he has begun to grip your waist when you approach him, dull eyes glinting with lust and interest as he stares down at you and you up at him. No matter how your heart has begun it’s pitter patter each time he addresses you by your name, something he has not bothered to learn from the others but has sworn to remember by you.

You were still one of hundreds of women here to serve only for Sukuna’s pleasure. You’re a number, and while Sukuna may not see you as such any longer, the other concubines ensure that you remember your place and who you are.

You’re a secure woman, and initially you did not allow the insecurities of others to impact you, but as the cruelty and frequency of the bullying increases, it wears down your tolerance bit by bit. Nudging turns to pinching and shoving, you can no longer eat in their presence without food landing in your hair or down your clothes, and you barely sleep at night for fear that one of them will come to harm in you in your slumber as they have on many occasions prior.

And you’re tired. So very tired. Sukuna himself even begins to notice a shift in you, how dull your eyes look when you meet him and how quiet you have become. He has demanded you tell him what is wrong, which you always reply that you have not gotten enough sleep, which is not necessarily untrue, and Sukuna has no reason not to believe it because he is not aware of the world that transpires amid the concubines when they are not actively serving him.

He is no fool, though. He has an inkling that something is going on, but he holds off on saying anything. He waits, watches.

But unfortunately, he has waited too long when you decide upon yourself that you can not take this torment anymore, that you are no more worthy of Sukuna than then next peasant. That both you and him would be better if you parted, if he no longer had a woman to favor that created such profound rifts within the community.

There is no place for you, a concubine hopelessly in love with your lord, within the estate. Sukuna feeds off of your unspoken and unknowns affections, and it has created nothing but hell for you and everyone else. So you vanish.

And Sukuna is pissed.

“You mean to tell me that she just fucking left in the middle of the night and nobody saw her?” he seethes. “You did not see her?!”

Uraume takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately not, my lord. I was in the kitchen all night making preparations for today’s courses as usual. I’m sure the other servants were asleep as well.”

“That ungrateful brat,” he addresses you as if cursing you, your name a sweet, sick poison on his tongue. “She’s got some fucking nerve.”

“It is appalling that a concubine would do such a thing as flee your court,” Uraume instantly agrees.

“After everything I’ve given her!” he grows angrier by the second, thinking back to the privilege he bestowed upon you. You dare now to make him look weak? Another fist lands into a vase that smashes it to pieces, the memory too overwhelming to mull over without feeling as though he is going to murder someone. “When I get my hands on that girl…”

“How would you like to proceed? I have men already on the hunt-“

“Send them back.”

“…Pardon, my lord?” Uraume blinks.

“You know I do not enjoy repeating myself, Uraume.”

“I apologize. I will-“

“I want every one of them back in this estate. No one is to come or go, and if they do they shall suffer directly at my hand,” Sukuna snarls. "I will look for her myself."

Uraume bows their head. “Yes, my lord.”

“And what of the concubines?” he grunts.

“What of them?”

“I find it hard to believe that they did not hear (Y/n) take her leave, nor think it a matter not to inform me of immediately.”

Sukuna stops his pacing, standing heavily in the middle of the room as he glares to the side now in thought.

“It would be wise to inform you that when I asked them about her disappearance before coming here, they all behaved as though they were unsure of what was going on,” Uraume speaks with a hint of disdain, and Sukuna’s eyes darken.

Slowly, it pieces together that they have something to do with this.

“All of them in the throne room. Now.”

Petrified faces line before Sukuna as he uncharacteristically stands before his throne rather than sits, his personal arm candy nowhere to be found and frankly making him all the more uneased. Uraume, who has rounded up the women, stands to the side as they all kneel in rows on the floor, shivering with fear.

"Someone start talking," Sukuna's voice grumbles out, so menacingly, so deep that it shakes the women's cores. Those who bully you have lost any lick of confidence they found in your wake as they keep their widened eyes to the floor, mouths clamped shut, paralyzed with fear. "Do not play dumb with me. I know you all know exactly what I am referring to."

Silence filters the air, the concubines unsure of how to proceed or what to say.

"Where is she?"

The question ehcoes again, and "she" falls like a boulder crushing to the earth. You are so prized that Sukuna does not even need to address you by your name for everyone to know who he is talking about. It makes their blood boil, to be petrified on behalf of your absence. What makes you so special anyway?

"Your lord has asked you a question," Uraume adds firmly, fueling the tension within the room. "I suggest one of you answers it."

"Must I begin punishing you one by one until you learn to use your mouths and speak when I ask you to?" Sukuna fumes when he is still met with nothing, and this threat finally encourages on concubine to twitch her head slightly then speak.

A brunette girl. One of your abusers.

"We do not know where (Y/n) is, Lord Sukuna," she says with a trembling voice, head still bowed. "We... we woke, and she was gone-"

"And yet no one said a word until I took notice, and Uraume in turn."

She whimpers. "We did not think to-"

"Silence." She stops, for Sukuna can read rather clearly through her facade. He can read the energy of the entire room, in fact. It does not seem that any one of these women cares very much about your whereabouts or what has happened to you, almost as though they wanted you go in the first place. "You," he gestures to a short haired woman, who takes the risk of peeking upward to ensure that Sukuna is addressing her, for somehow she just knew.

She quickly looks back down. "Yes, Lord Sukuna?"

"Tell me why (Y/n) ran away."

She gulps, eyes scattering over the floor as she conjures up a response. "I do not know, my Lord."

The king's eyes slim, one set of burly arms crossed over his chest. His patience, at this point, is non-existent. He needs to know where you are. He needs to find you know, and so help anyone who got in his way.

"Liar," he says.

With the flick of his wrist, a slicing motion resounds through the air followed by a pitched scream of agony. The victim stares down in hair as her hands fly from her wrists within an instant, sprouting blood from her wrists and pooling over the floor. The concubines grow aware of the action, having no choice but to look up upon hearing such a sound and panic at the sight of blood and the woman now stripped of her hands.

"Now, let me make myself perfectly clear," Sukuna announces over the rise of cries throughout the room. Uraume closes their eyes with a deep sigh, watching everything unfold. "The next one of you who dares to lie to my face will lose more than just her hands. Understood?"

Warbled sobs of understanding and nods flutter about the room while short haired woman struggles to sit up, lifting her trembling limbs to her teary eyes with quivering parted lips of shock. It does not take long before she is passing out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes.

"Uraume, get her out of here."

Once the wounded woman is removed from the environment, a pool of blood left in her spot and trailing behind her, the concubines double down into sniveling submission.

"Why did (Y/n) leave?" he repeats.

Suddenly, overlapping voices jump out with their own explanations in desperate attempts to plead their cases. Sukuna's eye twitches as he listens on for only a few seconds before shutting it down.

"I do not recall telling you all to ramble ontop of each other. Speak one at a fucking time. Tch. You should know better than that."

The room dips into instant silence, followed by one meek voice that speaks out. “S-She never said anything about leaving,” she shivers.

"Of course she didn't, that would have defeated the purpose of sneaking away," Sukuna growls. "Clearly, however, something has transpired within this group to encourage her to leave, am I mistaken?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm sure, my lord," she is quick to go along, for she is not one of your bullies and Sukuna can tell by the look on her face and the way she obliviously rambles on. "Perhaps... she felt unwelcome...?"

And oh, there it is. The icing on the cake, the very piece that sets those guilty for your absence into a momentary state of shock and solidifies Sukuna's assumptions.

"Unwelcome?" he cocks a brow, reciting the word slowly. "By who."

The crimson eyed king's eyes do not miss the way the concubine flashes a glance over to the brunette from earlier swiftly, only to look back down and swallow hard.

With a slow tilt of his head, Sukuna follows her brief line of sight with a hum. While he may not know just exactly what has been transpiring between you and some of these women, he knows that he has identified one involved. One who likely pushed you to run off so disrespectfully.

Sukuna does not know what it is about you that has him driven onto the brink of insanity due to your absence. He knows its not just because of sex, because he can find sex anywhere. He's surrounded by women who provide those services. There's something about you specifically though that makes fucking feel less of a habit, a simple release for pleasure and more so a desire, a thrill, a need. A need with you.

It's your company that he has grown so accostumed to, his frequent access to you, and to be stripped of it so suddenly is a crime in itself. You can not deprive the King of Curses of the very thing you were hired to do. You can not just leave and expect him not to scrounge and burn every corner of this earth until he finds you and punishes you for putting him through the trouble of searching for you. You're a brat. A pain, and Sukuna somehow needs you around, so when he looks the brunette woman dead in the eye, he knows he has to kill her.

Sukuna leaves the concubines traumatized when he treks out to look for you on his own, scorching earth, terrorizing villagers, destroying home after home in search for you and somehow you still are not within his grasp.

Citizens retreat scramble about and retreat to safety, trembling in fear as your name rings out through the air like a battle cry, flame flittering into the call as though hell itself is beckoning you. There is no building that Sukuna does not plan to visit, no alleyway unsearched, no creak unexplored, and just when the demon feels he is prepared to slaughter a nation, you hear a distant cry of your name from afar.

A shiver licks its way down your spine and you jump, whipping your head around.

"(Y/n)?" a gentle, present woman's voice calls from behind you. "That is your name, isn't it?"

Your brows draw together and a pit develops in your stomach, eyes to the door of the orphanage you took shelter in miles away from Sukuna's estate. "...Yes," you say slowly, mind distracted.

"Strange. I think I just heard someone calling you from somewhere."

You don't know why you follow the voice.

You left for a reason. You'd been gone since the middle of the night, and you had promised not to return, but you follow his voice anyway as though it beckons you. You always knew better than to ignore the King of Curse's when he calls you, and you can't say that you have prepared to outgrow the habit. Not within the mere hours you have been absent.

The real reason you go back, you want to tell yourself, is to prevent Sukuna from disturbing the peace of the shelter you sought in confidence. You know that if you heard him from where you were staying, he would have continued to make his way further and further down until he found you, and you were not fond of the idea of him tormenting innocent women and children for your sake.

And while you expected to be greeted by an irritated Sukuna, you did not expect the scene that greets you when you round a street corner blocks down during your walk.

You halt in your tracks, heat greeting your skin. Your eyes go wide, your face falls, and before you lay a street aglow with the aftermath of what looks like the tosses of flame and fire. Ash flitters into the sky, windows of businesses are broken, and the entirety of the brick street is empty save for debris and dying flames. It looks as though some kind of bomb or explosion went off and those within the vicinity either fled or got caught in the attack.

Your hands go to your mouth as you study the scene in shock, your skin going cold despite the heat.

You are too entrapped with your shock to notice the shadow that envelopes you from behind when it first arrives. Its eerily quiet, save for the crackle of lingering fire ahead, and you go to take a step back in fear when you hit something hard.

You tense completely, pupils shrinking and gaze unfocusing. You recognize the feeling, the smell, the heat. You recognize the sheer unfathomable mass towering over you without having to turn around, the raw surge of evil that potrudes and surrounds you, caging you in normally so enticingly, but this time so terrifyingly.

You swipe your tongue over your lip anxiously, your heartbeat rapidly hammering into your chest. You shouldn't turn around. You shouldn't look up. You know what will happen, but you can't help yourself. You can not fight the urge as you slowly twist your head around and tilt your chin upward to meet the glowing pairs of red eyes that you'd grown to adore searing down at you from so far above.

You breathe heavily, caught in the lock of Sukuna's wild glare. He appears almost feral with anger to you, some sort of sick enraged smirk twisting onto his face that is anything but kind. You don't say a word as the street burns behind you and your hands stick stiffly to your sides.

"Care to explain what the hell you are doing?"

You know that tone of voice so well by now. It is monotone and low, almost inaudible with its bass yet it carries so crisply. It comes of as calm, but the underlying emotion is anything but. He is pissed, if that is not clear enough from his face and stature, and if you were anyone else you think you'd be dead, but Sukuna's values his possessions and his means of true pleasure far too much. He would do something much worse to you than death. He would be sure of it.

"Mm? Can't talk?" he frowns when you don't answer. You flinch when a hand comes to clasp over your cheeks and squish, sharp nails prodding into your skin as Sukuna guides your body to face him completely. Instinctively, you grab his marked wrist out of surprise. His second pair of eyes look down at the motion, the first still blazing on you. "You think you can touch me without permission after what you've done?"

"Sukuna," you whisper, staring straight into his eyes as your hand slips away. The lord always enjoyed that about you, how you stared directly into him instead of avoiding. Even now, your eyes are mesmorizing pools of uncertainty and alarm as you look at him. "What did you do?"

"Don't ask me that foolishness," he sneers. "You left behind my back, and you have lost the privilege of addressing me as anything but my proper title."

You falter slightly. "I... I could not stay."

"You do not have the power to make that decision."

"It's my decision to make. It's my life."

"You serve me. My life," Sukuna states firmly and you grimace, brows angling in discomfort as he reminds you of your place, of why you left. "I have clearly given you too much freedom if you believe this nonsense."

You feel your heart jolt with sadness, your face hardening as he holds you still. You should know your place by now, truly, but you don't appreciate how you are still treated as though you are an object of possession when your life has been turned to hell by those who are jealous of your favoritism. It's unfair, to love without the benefits, to be placed on a pedestal with no regard for the ramifications nor how it may feel for your privileges to be bestowed upon you without any promise of anything more.

It pains you to be in this position so hopelessly, and you wished to flee it but Sukuna of course refuses to allow such a thing to happen.

"What if I don't want to be your concubine anymore?" you say in a hushed voice. Sukuna's eyes flicker with subtle surprise, and for a moment you think you have caught him off guard.

"You are dramatic," he elects to say. "You are not telling me something, and you choose to take it out on me."

"If I'm just a concubine, then there's no need for me to tell you everything I think, is there?" you ask bitterly.

Sukuna's brows tilt downward slightly, and slowly he releases his grip of your face. You inhale sharply when he does, stumbling slightly and blinking harshly. "Is that what this is truly about?"

You clench your jaw. "What?"

"Wishing to be more than a concubine instead of not being one at all?" he proposes, and you feel yourself freeze. "And here I was made to believe it was solely because of the others."

"...W-What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about how the other women treated you."

You stare at him blankly as you let his comment sit for a moment, a far off look catching your eye. "There was nothing to tell."

"That is not true."

"There was nothing to tell you- you don't care about what happens with the concubines."

"You are not just another concubine."

You furrow your brows and part your lips. "I don't understand you. You want my forced subservience to you and you continue to entertain the others, but you don't think I'm like the rest of them?"

"If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed."

"And if you cared to think of me as more than them, you would have noticed how the special treatment does more harm to me than good!"

"You can not complain because you chose to suffer in silence. All you had to do was tell me, and you still will not explain what has happened."

"Because I don't want to! I don't want to talk about it! It's humiliating, and I-" you suck in a breath of air. "I can't keep reliving being tortured for your carelessness-"

"I disposed of them."

You pause. "You- what? Disposed of what?"

"Of the women who harmed you. I assume that is what has been happening. They were jealous of you and pushed you out and treated you poorly."

You gape at him, utterly stunned. "You- you don't even know who-"

"Others confessed."

"...And you killed them?"

"They drove you away. It was a fit punishment."

You can no longer find the words, for you had not expected Sukuna to do such a thing for you. You believed his behavior around you to be temporary engagement, a fling. You believed that he would hardly care if you truly lived or died as long as you pleased him, and you certainly did not believe that he would go such lengths for your sake.

You are rattled by the mentions of their deaths, yes, but more so shocked by what Sukuna's disposal of them means for you... that he must truly value you above the others.

Sukuna raises a brow. "Are you truly surprised?"

"...Sukuna, all I've been to you is..." you trail off slowly as his gaze hypnotizes you, and you stutter over an exhale. "What am I doing with you? What am I to you? You have concubines still, and I'm not- I'm just-"

"You think too much." The salmon haired demon wraps a hand around your wrist while another finds your waist to tug you along with him. You trip into motion as you trail beside his heavy strides, watching him baffled.

"Wait, my lord, wait-" you urge, and he shockingly does. He eyes you out of the corners of his eyes and slows to a stop. "I truly don't understand. Why would you do that for me? What do you want me to be?"

Sukuna looks down at you wordlessly, taking in every crease of your face. He had been so angry, and now that he has found you, now that he sees you, now that he has you, his mind is at ease. He knows what humans label this feeling, and he is well assured that he is far beyond the useless ideal, but irritatingly he feels it there when he looks at you. He felt it at the thought of anyone treating you poorly, and he felt it the moment he lay eyes on you.

And you look terribly confused standing with his arm wrapped around you and your glossed lips pressed into a soft frown. The fire still burns behind you from a distance, and there is still something unsaid that Sukuna can tell you are hiding, but perhaps he does not want to know. Perhaps he needs to keep that barrier.

Even so, he wants you to remain his. You belong to him, with him as more. He doesn't know as what yet, but just knows that you are more, and that you should never dare to pull a stunt like the one you just did.

You jerk your head back gently when Sukuna turns into you and ducks down, meeting you as eye to eye as he possibly can from his height. His face hovers over yours and you watch him with a twisted, tormented, longing gaze, and you are so pathetic he craves it.

He presses into you without purpose, catching your lips in his and you jump against him, for he has only ever kissed you in intimate spaces and the feeling in such a setting is so foreign but your skin is tingling and your heart is thumping. Sukuna pushes in hard, keeping a set of lidded eyes open as yours slide closed and you allow him to take you within his harsh, swift kiss.

He pulls away fast, a soft smack of parting lips, and hovers over you afterward so closely. You can feel your face burning as your lashes flutter open and you look back up at him with shiny eyes. Sukuna catches the gaze. He catches what it means, and he sighs.

"We are returning now," he orders gruffly, standing up straight. "We will further discuss your arrangements at the estate, but as of today, you are no longer a concubine."

Your mind is still fuzzy from the kiss, therefore you do not completely comprehend his declaration. "I'm... not?"

"You will be under my direct surveillance at all times. Try to sneak away again, and I will be sure you are unable to walk for weeks. And do not think this will go unpunished."

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader fluff

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 2 months ago

Text

.（ℱ） LEAVE ME, RUIN ME ?!

✩ tw : nsfw/smut, creampie (vaginal), angst, no aftercare, no fluff, mentions of sexual assault (none happens dw), Possessive mydei, rough mydei, fem!reader, chocking, hair pulling & others. [MDNI]

✩ sum : As Mydei prepares to leave for a dangerous mission, he and the reader share a desperate, punishing night together, knowing it might be their last. Fueled by fear and unspoken love, he takes you with a raw intensity, marking you as his even as he’s forced to walk away. Left alone in the aftermath, your left to grapple with the unbearable weight of his absence, fearing he may never return.

✩ note : short fic since i’m not good at writing angst. not proofread.

The chamber felt suffocating. The air was thick with candle smoke and the scent of something burning, but nothing smelled stronger than Mydei’s desperation. His fingers curled into his palms, his golden eyes stormy as he stood in front of you, his breath unsteady. He was leaving—heading straight into Amphoreus on a mission that could very well be his end.

And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

“You know what they’ll do to you if they catch you,” you said, your voice sharp, your heart slamming against your ribs. “You’ve seen what they do to traitors. To people who go against them.”

You swallowed hard. “To me.”

Mydei flinched. His jaw clenched, his breath hitching. Of course, he knew. You had been captured once before—torn away from him, left in the hands of those monsters. They hadn’t broken you, but the memories of what almost happened never left. You had told Mydei everything, and he had listened. Had held you so tightly you thought he’d break you apart just to put you back together.

But now, he was choosing to walk right into their hands.

“You think I don’t know that?” he rasped. “You think I don’t see their faces every time I close my fucking eyes? You think I don’t remember what they did to you? What they almost did?”

His hands were shaking as he reached for you, gripping your shoulders like he was trying to steady himself.

“I won’t let them take me,” he swore, voice raw. “I won’t let them take me the way they took you.”

“Then don’t fucking go! Stop spitting out random bullshit!”

The words ripped from your throat, but you already knew they were useless. Mydei had made up his mind long before this conversation started.

And it broke you.

He must have seen it—the way your body slumped against the wall, the fight leaving your limbs. Because something inside him snapped.

He surged forward, his lips crashing into yours, desperate and bruising. His hands moved to your wrists, pinning them against the cold stone wall, pressing his body flush against yours as if he could carve himself into you, leave his mark before he disappeared into the abyss.

“Tell me you hate me,” he whispered against your lips, his breath ragged. "Tell me I disgust you."

You stared at him, horrified. “What?”

His grip tightened, his forehead pressing against yours. "If you say it, maybe it’ll be easier to leave." His voice cracked on the last word, his entire body trembling. “Say it.”

Your throat closed up.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you whispered. “And a coward.”

A broken sound slipped from his throat.

Then, suddenly, he was tearing your clothes from your body, his hands rough as they grabbed at your tits, squeezing, marking. His mouth latched onto your throat, biting hard enough to leave bruises, his fingers moving between your legs, dragging through your wetness.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “Even when you hate me?”

“I never said I hate you,” you bit out.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you, forcing you to wrap around him. He lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, but he didn’t push in.

Not yet.

He let his fingers slide over your slit again, teasing your clit, spreading your wetness.

“I should’ve fucked you like this sooner," he whispered. “I should’ve ruined you long before now.”

“Then do it,” you spat. “Before you run away again.”

Something dark flickered across his expression, and then—he slammed into you.

The stretch burned, but you took him all at once, your back arching, your nails clawing at his arms. He was relentless, thrusting deep and fast, his grip bruising, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your ear.

He needed this.

Needed to feel you, needed to brand himself into your skin before he walked to his own execution.

He grabbed your throat, squeezing just enough to make you lightheaded, his cock driving deeper, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. His pace grew frantic, each thrust rougher, more desperate.

“You’re mine,” he rasped. “Even if I die, you’ll still be mine.”

Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

His grip tightened on your throat, his other hand shoving between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, messy circles.

“Cum for me, baby,” he ordered. “Now.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. Pleasure tore through you, your walls clamping down around him, milking his cock as you came undone.

Mydei let out a broken moan, his hips stuttering as he buried himself inside you, filling you with his release, his breath shuddering. His grip on your throat loosened. His entire body trembled.

For a moment, he just held you.

Then, his arms tightened around you—so tight it hurt. His face buried in your neck, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"I don’t want to go," he admitted. “I don’t want to fucking leave you.”

Your hands came up, gripping his arms. “Then stay.”

But you both knew he wouldn’t.

And before you could say anything else, he was gone.

The door slammed behind him, leaving nothing but the echo of his absence and the suffocating scent of sweat and sex in the air. Your legs trembled as you slid down the cold stone wall, cum dripping between your thighs, your body still aching from the way he had taken you—desperate, punishing, like he could fuck the pain away.

But he was gone.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your fingers clutching at nothing. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. That you wouldn’t be weak. That you wouldn’t let his absence carve its way into your ribs and settle there like a festering wound.

And yet—

A choked sob slipped past your lips, and then another, and before you could stop yourself, you were breaking.

Mydei had held you like you were his lifeline, had kissed you like he was trying to breathe through you, had fucked you like he was already mourning what he was about to lose.

And now?

Now, he was walking straight into hell.

You curled your arms around yourself, body wracked with silent, shaking cries. You could still feel him—his bruising grip, the way his fingers had tangled in your hair, the possessive, desperate way he had growled mine over and over again.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Because if he didn’t come back—if he didn’t survive—then you’d be left with nothing but the memory of his touch, the ghost of his body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips lingering on your tongue.

You forced yourself to stand, your legs weak, your body unsteady. The sheets on the bed were still a mess, the scent of him clinging to them, and for a moment, you considered crawling beneath them, burying yourself in what little remained of him.

But you knew better.

You knew that if you let yourself fall into that grief now, you would never crawl back out.

So instead, you cleaned yourself up, wiped the remnants of him from your thighs, and dressed. Every movement was mechanical, your hands shaking as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to pretend you weren’t still trembling.

The outside was quiet.

Too quiet.

You walked through the dimly lit corridors, your mind a mess of fragmented thoughts, of whispered prayers you refused to let yourself believe in.

He’s coming back.

He has to.

And yet, deep in your chest, you felt it—something cracking, something breaking, something warning you that this time, hope might not be enough.

Bonus : he doesn’t come or cum back, he’s stuck outside of okhema. Oh, also, you get pregnant and he doesn’t know that. ❤︎︎

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

#blueberrisdove #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #mydei x you #mydei x reader #mydei x y/n #mydei hsr #honkai mydei #honkai star rail mydei #mydei smut #mydeimos #hsr mydei #mydei #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x female reader

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speed-world · 10 months ago

Note

Idea for a story...based off something I saw somewhere else.

Y/n sucked into the cookie run kingdom game and transformed into a cookie and is a complete coward...like cookies, if they want y/n to come with them on adventures, have to bribe y/n into coming...or drag them as they scream in fear. They are terrified of plot because they know what happens in the cookie run story and feel like they wouldn't survive....

Buuuuut then, as they progress through the story, more cookies are revealed to love y/n and their presence in general make the cookies...nicer and more focused on making y/n happy than the plot lol. Like they start making sure y/n has their treats, that y/n is having fun, etc!

Cowardice…Pays Off?!

(Is this self aware? Kinda i guess right?)

You aren’t sure how or why this happened. One moment you were just by yourself, ready to play a newly downloaded Cookie Run Kingdom-The Game. You saw a lot of videos about its story and characters, and you wanted to give it a shot since it all seemed so cool!! Then, just as you started the game up, your game glitched and got stuck. The screen of your phone went blank. Then, like a vortex, it pulled you inside of the game and your entire body composition changed. You were flat, smelled appetizing, and you were a lot smaller than you were supposed to be.

You became a cookie…which horrifies you immensely!

Sure, it sounded neat to be surrounded by the characters that you loved, until you realize that you now have to go through the same story as them. A story that you knew most of the outcomes…

As you finally came to, you heard the crashing sounds of asteroids from outside. You studied your surroundings a bit more until you realized: This is the Final Battle of the Dark Flour War, which surely means-

“This is…Oh no, what a horrible sight.”

“The whole place is covered in Cookie crumbs!”

You heard footsteps of 5 cookies approaching you. You vividly remembered there words as the same words from the Final Battle prologue scene. But of course, you were there. And you noticed that the Ancients immediately froze and changed once they saw you.

“Despite the foul stench and scene, it appears that a Cookie made it after all…”

“Ah! W-wait, I-I’m not s-supposed to uh— p-please I-I’m so scared, d-don’t h-hurt me p-please!!” You freaked out at the realization, and buried your face in your knees. Tears welled up in your eyes as you began to weep.

Pure Vanilla Cookie softly approached you and caressed your back. He sat down in front of you and held your arm.

“We promise you, the last thing we’d ever want is to hurt you! You don’t have to worry, we’re here to protect you with our own lives, you have my word! I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie, may I know who you are?”

With how softly and assuring he spoke, you held his hand and nodded.

“Y/N…I’m Y/N.”

You hugged him out of instinct, which definitely surprised the healer, but he didn’t mind at all. He reciprocated the hug and then hugged even tighter…as if he’s been waiting for this specific hug with you for a while

“A-wait! You g-guys have to leave!! D-D-Dark E-Enchantress Cookie is too strong for y-you all!! Y-you won’t win against her!!” You panicked as you remembered the fate that awaited the Ancients. They all looked surprised initially, but then they all looked more determined than ever.

“While your concern is appreciated, we assure that we won’t back down from Dark Enchantress Cookie. We’ll take her down AND make assure your safety at the same time.”

You looked at Golden Cheese Cookie, quietly pleading with her and the other Ancients to not go and fight this battle. They all do their best to reassure and comfort you, hoping that you understand they can’t abandon this fight. One Ancient however, stared at you differently than the others. She looked at you as if…she actually knew who you were…

White Lily Cookie saw you catch onto her staring, and she shook her head to snap back to reality.

“I-I believe we should get ready! W-We need t-to find Dark Enchantress Cookie before she finds us!”

And then, as if on cue, you all notice the sounds of Cake Hounds rapidly charging at you. The Ancients ready themselves to fight, and you trembled as you got to your feet. You hid behind Hollyberry Cookie, tightly holding onto her for dear life and shutting your eyes…until you felt various Cake Hounds nuzzling your legs. You opened your eyes to the cute creatures smiling at you and not hurting you at all, which confused the Ancients.

“Shouldn’t these Cake Hounds be attacking us? These are Dark Enchantress Cookie’s forces, and yet they’re…rolling around and nuzzling us?!”

“It appears they’ve a fondness for Y/N. We could use this to our advantage, let’s move!”

Dark Cacao Cookie scooped you up with one arm and carried you as the Ancients ran to the castle area where Dark Enchantress Cookie was.

You screamed and pleaded to not go with them since you knew what would happen. Since comforting you didn’t seem to work, two Ancients had the bright idea of bribing you to come along.

“Come now Y/N, I promise to gift with riches beyond your dreams after we win this fight! I’ll even let these Cake Hounds be with you, but you’ll spend more time with me, my closest treasure~!”

“I’ll be sure to grace you with the finest berry juice ever! My treat!! You’ll never have to worry with me around, I promise you!!”

You were more relaxed after hearing the offers of Hollyberry Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. After a while, you noticed everyone had stopped moving. You slowly looked up in horror…Dark Enchantress Cookie was waiting there.

“And so, upon the ruins of your home we finally meet. And it would appear…that you brought an uninvited guest~.”

…She was talking about you. You met your worried eyes with hers, but she didn’t look at you with malice. More she looked down at you like a mother would a little child…and you had no clue how to react.

Pure Vanilla Cookie stood in front of you, and had hardened gaze on Dark Enchantress Cookie.

“Dark Enchantress Cookie! What is the meaning of this?”

“Now, now. No need to be so hostile. In fact, I have a…proposition for you lot.”

“Proposition? What nonsense are you rambling about now?”

Dark Enchantress Cookie focused her gaze on you. You hid behind Pure Vanilla Cookie, but Dark Enchantress’s eyes never stopped following your movements.

“I would like to believe that we have a common interest. The Cookie that you’re shielding - Y/N I believe was your name, no? - There’s something about them that’s quite incredible, wouldn’t you say~?”

“What…w-w-what are y-you getting a-at?!” You decided to speak, or more stutter, for yourself.

“I’m saying I believe we’ve all taken an interest in you. Dare I say, we can come to a deal: I’ll cease my own vision for the world in exchange for the safety and prosperity of Y/N. Does that sound alright with you?”

You were very reluctant to respond, mostly because of how much you were taken aback by this. Is this really the same Dark Enchantress Cookie you remember?! Apparently, the Ancients had the same conflicted expressions. None of them truly knew what to say about this ordeal.

“Can we really trust her words? This could easily be just another scheme-“

“I AM serious about this, mind YOU! It’s abundantly clear none of us want Y/N in any kind of danger, and I can see it clearly in your eyes—all of us feel a special attraction to them, despite the odd circumstance~. There’s no reason to lie about it.”

You looked to the rest of the Ancients in anticipation. You had zero idea what the right answer was, if there was one, but you just prayed that you wouldn’t be hurt in any way.

“…..Fine then. For the sake of all Cookiekind, and for Y/N, we’ll trust you. But know this Dark Enchantress Cookie, we will fight you again if you ever back down from your word!”

“Hah, you won’t have to look forward to it~…”

————————————————————————

It’s been a while since then, and you still have no idea how to feel about your situation.

On one hand, literally nothing wants to harm you in any way. Every Cookie you’ve met has been extremely kind and generous to you, even if they’re evil aligned. The Bear Jellies are so warm and welcoming, and the Sugar Gnomes have virtually become your best supportive friends. Not to mention the Cake Hounds being head over heels for you, which you reciprocated the love for them.

On the other hand…there always seemed to be some small layer of tension whenever Dark Enchantress Cookie comes to see you. She’s always super nice to you, giving you immense affection that at times seems out of character.

Of course, the Ancients always get slightly agitated when Dark Enchantess Cookie visits. Especially Golden Cheese Cookie and White Lily Cookie, who really got upset whenever Dark Enchantress took you away from them.

Granted, White Lily made some sense with her relationship with Dark Enchantress.

But Golden Cheese really took offense to whenever you’re attention was taken off of her

In any sense, the most confusing thing was whenever the Cookies wanted to take you on adventures. Mainly the Gingerbrave gang.

You were incredibly scared of going with them, mostly because you knew of the danger of their adventures and thought you’d either be harmed or get in their way.

Whenever a Cookie invites you to travel with them, they always make sure your safety is prioritized. Sometimes they’ll try to bribe you with treats, gifts, or rewards if you tag along.

But sometimes, they’ll abandon their plans just to be with you and make sure you’re comfortable.

This life of yours was so odd and scary, but your fears would eventually wash away with how much the Cookies would treasure your being above all else. You’d grow to enjoy and love the affection and care, even if it seemed to be overwhelming at times.

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arandomao3user · 3 months ago

Text

"Jason was just a replacement for Dick." I have heard people say, "Bruce never loved him."

And, to an extent, I agree Jason was just a replacement for ROBIN, but not as a son, no, because Dick was Bruce's son and pride alright, he became his pride, the pride of Batman. But Jason did something Dick often failed to do, not from lack of TRYING but, because, it only lasted a week, maybe two before Bruce went back to that deep, dark hole he carved out for himself.

(Tim Drake: Pride Special)

Something I feel people can't possibly grasp, because maybe they can't relate or don't fully understand the significance or impact? The fact that it was the anniversary of the Wayne's deaths, Bruce's parents deaths that have haunted him for the majority of his life. He was in the cowl, he was BATMAN in the moment and it was his parents deaths, and in the same place he stayed, kneeling between the cooling corpses of his parents, knees drenched in their blood, he stayed there for possibly an hour or more. And yet, as Batman, in the cowl in the same place on the same night-- he laughed.

He laughed. Some punk, little bony street brat with a tire iron stole his tires, hit him with said tire iron, and called Batman a "big boob." and I believe Bruce was fond of Jason the moment he saw him.

Bruce and Dick were the dynamic dup, but there was also some small sense of obligation for Bruce to take Dick in. Bruce feared what Dick would've become, didn't want him to turn out like Bruce did. But with Jason? Oh, with Jason.

"Jason was the first thing Bruce allowed himself to want since his parents deaths." Is what my friend said when I was rambling to them about this, and it hit me how true it actually was.

Dick was Bruce's son, and he loved him, yet, but with Jason? BRUCE chose Jason, and he was the first Robin that Batman chose. Dick made himself Robin, Dick gave Robin to Tim and Damian, and I believe even with Stephanie it wasn't entire because Bruce WANTED her to be Robin.

Bruce, after seeing how Ma Gun's school wasn't what he thought it was, he made Jason Robin, took him home the same night (kidnapping is valid if you're Batman and he's up for grabs anyways--) and made him his SON.

He replaced Robin, but Jason was never a replacement as a son.

(Tim was the replacement as a son but we won't get into that today since that is more of my fanon over analysis of the characters--

so, yeah--)

Bruce adopted Jason about... Two weeks, I wanna say(?) after meeting him, taking him home, and I don't wanna say it was some sort of automatic attachment, but I believe Bruce saw the chance to make a proper family, and that's what he WANTED for Jason.

That's what he GAVE Jason.

I'm not digging for anymore panels, this isn't easy work for a post--

But my point stands, and even after Jason dies, Bruce wouldn't hesitate to come save him. Not out of guilt anymore, but because Jason has and always will be his son, not his favourite, because that'd make people mad if I say that (I read comics now, and even after, I still say that Jason is the favorite, but I won't make it a whole thing in this post--)

(Batman: Urban Legends #4)

Bruce, evidently, even with the violence and abuse he's shown Jason after Jason came back from the dead, has proven he'd come for him, that he won't ever give up on him.

Jason is rarely ever called his son in the comics anymore, he's rarely acknowledged to be Batman's son, and some may say "Well, that's because Jason doesn't see him as a Father." And I BEG you look at these comic panels and think that still. The words aren't said, maybe because it's to painful for Bruce to acknowledge he lost another family member, and for Jason? Hell, Bruce keeps punching him, we've all seen the panels, we've seen Dick's crash out.

Their relationship isn't perfect, Bruce has made so many mistakes, called Jason a failure, and Jason has certainly reciprocated those feelings a few times. Jason openly admits they were no dynamic duo, and says there wasn't trust between them-- something I disagree with. Entirely.

(Aaaand there's my image limit. Guess I won't show y'all the panel of Bruce holding Jason's corpse, thinking, "Did he hate me?" Because that was Bruce's thoughts after losing Jason. Guilt. And fear that Jason's final feelings for him were HATE.)

Can we also just... THIS PANEL!? HOW can anyone say "Well, Jason was just Dick's replacement--" then why was the worst fear the BATMAN can imagine, can conjure in his mind, losing Jason? Losing Jason was Bruce's greatest fear, something so terrifying to Bruce, to Batman.

Dick, Tim, Damian... They're all good Robin's (no Tim hate here, that's my boy) but Jason was a good son. In the movie, and comic, (Under The Red Hood) everyone agrees that Jason knew he was loved, he knew he was loved even as he grew older and began getting more reckless and violent-- things he wasn't as Robin, not for the majority of his run-- because he was a teenager who was beginning to go through stupid staged in his life where he could make mistakes. Unfortunately, he had all the supplies to make those mistakes fatal, and they proved to be...

But nobody replaced Dick as a son, something he was to Bruce, but things were to rocky, that first child syndrome hits hard and Bruce was young and so, so stupid with Dick... A good Father, but he wanted to be better with Jason, and maybe this is all to fanon territory, but I don't wanna hear a lick of "Bruce never loved Jason." Because Dick was Bruce's pride, but Jason was every last lick of joy in Bruce's body.

Jason was worth breaking his rules in Batman's eyes, briefly, but at a point he was worth it.

Jason, to Bruce, was worth dying for if he couldn't live in a world with him, Jason had Bruce crying for an hour once, after he was taken away from him during his Robin years.

Bruce loved Jason, because that was his son. Unfortunately, things got messed up, their relationship is messy now, yes, but that is still Bruce's son, and deep down, I think he knows that. It's something easier to admit than other times, and I forever hate the title of "Batman's Greatest Failure" because the only failure was not reaching Jason on time, Jason himself was no failure.

ANYWAYS, THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK :D

---

#batman #batfam #jason todd #tim drake #dcu #dcu comics #bruce wayne #dc robin #dc characters #dc comics #dc universe #dc #comics #batfamily #bruce wayne loves his kids #fight me #dick grayson #robin

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multific · 23 days ago

Text

Prove It to Me

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: With Caracalla's health getting worse by the day, you try to attract the eyes of your husband, Geta.

The golden light of dusk streamed through the tall windows of your chambers.

The empire was silent outside these walls, but within them, the weight of the world pressed heavily on your husband’s shoulders.

Geta stood near the balcony, his gaze fixed on the horizon, though you knew his thoughts were elsewhere. He had barely touched the food you had sent for him earlier, barely acknowledged your presence when you tried to comfort him.

He was worried about Caracalla. Again.

You understood. You truly did.

The twins had been bound together since birth, and Caracalla’s illness had been lingering for weeks now, an affliction that not even the empire’s finest physicians could fully explain.

But understanding did not ease the ache that settled deep in your chest, nor did it soothe the loneliness.

You rested a hand against your growing belly, feeling the movement within, a reminder that you were not truly alone, but it didn’t stop the resentment.

“Has he improved?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Geta sighed, rubbing his temple. “No. The fever remains. The physicians say it may pass, but they cannot be sure.” His voice was distant as if he were speaking to himself rather than to you.

You watched him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the exhaustion darkening his eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, but even so, there was a part of you that wanted to demand his attention.

To demand that he notice you.

“Have you eaten today?” you tried again, hoping, praying, that this time he would look at you.

“Later,” he murmured, still staring out at the setting sun.

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your dress. It was always later.

You had been patient, swallowing down the ache of being second in his heart, but tonight something inside you cracked.

The jealousy, the frustration, it all came down crashing.

You were four months pregnant, carrying the heir to his empire, and yet you felt invisible.

You inhaled sharply, forcing your voice to remain steady. “I’ve decided I will leave for the villa.”

That got his attention.

Geta turned to you, his brows furrowing. “What?”

You lifted your chin, meeting his eyes with determination. “I will leave for the villa,” you repeated. “Perhaps some time away will be good for me.”

His expression darkened. “You are not going anywhere.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “And why not? You certainly don’t need me here. You have been so consumed by your brother’s illness that you hardly notice I exist.”

“That is not true.”

“Isn’t it?” You took a step forward, your voice rising. “When was the last time you touched me, Geta? Held me? Looked at me the way you used to? I have been waiting for you to remember that I am here, that I need you too.”

He stared at you, silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. “I know Caracalla is your brother, and I know you fear losing him. But what about me? What about our child?” Your hand moved instinctively to your belly. “We need you too. And if you cannot see that, then I will go where I am wanted.”

His entire body tensed. “You would leave me?”

You exhaled sharply, blinking back the sting of tears. “Unless you can prove to me that you still love me, Geta, I don’t see why I should stay.”

For a moment, he said nothing.

The air between you was thick with tension. Then, without warning, he moved.

In an instant, he was in front of you, his hands cupping your face, his breath warm against your lips. “You are my wife,” he said, his voice low, almost desperate. “You are carrying my child. Do you think for one moment that I do not love you?”

You shuddered at the intensity of his gaze, but the pain in your chest did not disappear. “I need to hear it,” you whispered.

His grip on you tightened, his forehead pressing against yours. “Then let me say it now. I love you. More than my own blood, more than the empire itself.” His hands slipped down to rest against your belly, his fingers reverent. “And I love our child. I have been a fool to neglect you.”

Your breath was slow, your heart pounding in your chest. “Then show me.”

Geta didn’t hesitate.

His lips crashed against yours, fierce and possessive, pouring every unsaid word, every unspoken emotion into the kiss. He kissed you like he had been starved for you like he was terrified you would disappear if he let go.

Because he was.

When he finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his hands trembling against you. “Stay,” he murmured, almost a plea. “Stay with me, please.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but this time they were not from sorrow.

You reached up, running your fingers through his hair. “I never wanted to leave, Geta. I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you,” he swore, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips once more. “I see only you.”

And in that moment, you believed him.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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smileysuh · 9 months ago

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redemancy

🌙 staring. Johnny & Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Jaehyun can go dance with you-” Johnny agrees and your heart swells at his innocence, his complete lack of jealousy towards your best friend Jaehyun, who, you’re beginning to realize, may provide a legitimate threat that your previous lovers were picking up on.

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral, masturbation, 69-ing, face riding, soft dom!Johnny, blowjobs, pussy eating, multiple reader orgasms, deep throating, cumming on tits, cumplay, finger sucking, cum licking, breast worship, voyeurism, praise, power dynamics, double penetration, spit rosing/Eiffel tower, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess & baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 11.9k

🍭 aus. uni au, summer aesthetic, best friends to lovers, love triangle, angst, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. redemancy meaning: the act of loving someone who loves you, a love returned in full

“This is where your best friend lives?” Johnny asks, looking up at the expensive building, “Does she have roommates?”

Before you can answer, your eyes land on Jaehyun. He’s standing in front of his apartment, head dipped to look at his phone.

“There he is!” You point, and Johnny momentarily takes his eyes off of the road so he can follow your finger.

“He? Your best friend is a guy?” You can see Johnny taking in Jaehyun’s form in your peripheral vision. Your best friend looks gorgeous, as usual, his hair recently dyed a beautiful shade of rose gold pink. “Your best friend is that guy?” Johnny nearly crashes just looking at him.

“Yeah! That’s Jaehyun,” you answer.

Johnny’s not the first guy to react to Jaehyun this way. Many of the guys you’ve dated in the past have responded to your best friend in a similar manner; fear, jealousy... It’s not your fault your best friend is so beautiful.

Johnny parks the car and you’re quick to jump out, running towards Jaehyun, who turns, a smile lighting up his face, eyes scrunching with delight at the sight of you.

The two of you haven’t seen each other in a month. He’d gone on vacation with his family to New York, and you’ve missed his hugs.

You’d started dating Johnny right before Jaehyun left, and in the month that your best friend has been away, you and Johnny have become closer and closer.

Johnny’s met a few of your other friends - Ten and Mark - but he hasn’t met Jaehyun yet, and you’re excited to see if they get along. After all, you can’t have a boyfriend who doesn’t get along with Jaehyun.

You’ve had boyfriends before who couldn’t handle the close relationship you have with Jaehyun, and this unfortunate fact is one of the reasons you’ve kept Jaehyun more of a secret this time around. You hope Johnny likes you too much to let Jaehyun’s looks come between the two of you as they have in the past.

Some men just aren't strong enough to let their girlfriends be best friends with a guy who looks like a model, but you push that thought to the side.

Jaehyun scoops you up in his arms, lifting you off the ground and twirling you. He’s warm, and he smells like home, a smell you’ve missed this past month.

Johnny gets out of his car hesitantly, approaching you and Jaehyun. The two of you are a flurry of questions and answers, you’re pulling at Jaehyun’s hair, inspecting the colour, and Jaehyun is commenting on the cute new shirt you’re wearing.

It takes you a moment to notice Johnny, in the flurry of addressing Jaehyun, you’d almost forgotten about the new important man in your life. However, Johnny clearly doesn’t mind and smiles broadly when you immediately pull him to your side, wrapping your arms around him. “And this is Johnny!” you introduce. “Johnny, this is Jaehyun, my best friend.”

Jaehyun’s grin has dropped. His gaze turning harsh, judgmental, as he takes in Johnny’s form. “He’s tall,” Jaehyun notes. “You never told me he was tall.”

Jaehyun has always enjoyed being larger than the boys you bring around. Even though Jaehyun is an inch or two shorter than Johnny, his gaze is enough to intimidate anyone, even the Chicago native you’re currently clinging to.

“Be nice, Jaejae,” you scold, gently prodding Jaehyun’s shin with the toe of your shoe as you lace your fingers with Johnny’s.

“How long have you two been friends?” Johnny asks, evidently searching for a conversation starter. Johnny’s not normally an awkward guy, but this situation is tense, and you get the distinct feeling that he wants to resolve it.

“Since we were kids,” Jaehyun answers, his words short, his expression disinterested.

“We’ve had classes together since kindergarten,” you confirm. “Even though Jaehyun’s a business major, we coordinated electives to have classes together while in uni too.”

“Oh wow,” Johnny nods, and you ca see that his smile is somewhat forced.

Your phone dings and you look down. “Ten and Mark just left their place, we should go now and meet them at the club,” you announce, turning to beam up at Johnny, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. “Thanks again for offering to pick Jae up.”

Johnny had agreed to pick up your best friend to go clubbing and celebrate their return to town, he hadn’t known your best friend was Jaehyun.

The three of you head back to Johnny’s car, you and Jaehyun chatting while Johnny listens. In Johnny’s car, Jaehyun sits in the middle of the back seat so he can lean forward and continue talking with you. You attempt to let Johnny into the conversation, but with so much history with Jaehyun, it’s clear that a lot is lost on the man driving.

Johnny holds your hand most of the ride, thumb brushing your skin pleasantly, as if to tell you ‘It’s okay, I’m going to make this work.’

Soon, you arrive at the bar, and once you’re there it’s easy enough to find Ten and Mark. Ten has a table that pretty much has his name etched into it, and that’s made possible by the fact that he’s close friends with a bunch of the Chinese frat boys who work here.

Johnny and Jaehyun quickly offer to go get drinks, and the two of them disappear into the crowd, leaving you with Mark and Ten who are eager to gossip.

Sure, Mark and Ten have met Johnny a few times, but this is the first time he’s meeting Jaehyun... and that’s a big deal, something everyone understands.

“Jaehyun doesn’t seem to like Johnny,” Ten states bluntly, leaning in to talk to you.

“They just met, Jaehyun never likes any of my boyfriends.”

“So he’s your boyfriend now?” Ten smirks, kicking Mark under the table to encourage the Canadian to show some enthusiasm at this development.

“No,” you immediately wave your hand, “not officially, but you know what I mean. Jaehyun hates guys I go on dates with.”

“I wonder why.” Ten sips his drink and you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t start with the whole ‘Jaehyun is in love with you’ thing,” you warn him.

“I’m just saying, it’s September, school is starting, summer is ending, it’s just like the time when-” Mark shoves Ten with his shoulder, drawing your attention to Johnny and Jaehyun who are back with drinks.

“Beer!” Johnny announces, setting a cup down in front of Ten. He doesn’t seem to have heard the end of Ten’s comment, but Jaehyun on the other hand... his gaze is hard for a moment, jaw clenching. Then, he seems to snap out of it, a smile once more appearing on his lips.

Jaehyun playfully grabs your arm and pulls you from the booth so he can slide in, dragging you after him. Johnny gets in on your other side and just like that, you’re sandwiched between two massive, gorgeous men.

“Did we miss anything?” Johnny asks, looking at you and your friends.

Ten dives into the bar gossip, leaning in and pointing out different bar tenders who are sleeping with certain waitresses and other employees. You drown out the conversation quickly, as you’ve heard these details way too many times before. Instead, you focus on the men beside you.

Jaehyun’s thigh is next to yours, his hand on your knee under the table, which isn’t too out of the ordinary, he’s always been a touchy best friend.

Johnny has an arm wrapped around you, keeping you tucked close to his side as he begins to talk with Ten about their majors. You’re happy that Ten seems to like Johnny more and more every time they meet, and Mark is laughing at everything the elder man says.

The only friend staying quiet is Jaehyun, who sits next to you with a bored-looking expression on his face.

He sips his beer.

Your mind wanders back to what Ten had said.

The season, the aesthetic of summer ending and school beginning.

You’d been in a very different position a year ago.

You’re suddenly very aware of Jaehyun next to you. You can feel your skin heating up, can feel the coil of anxiety in your tummy. “Johnny?” you grab his attention and the tall man dips his head to look down at you, waiting for you to say something. “Come dance with me?”

“You sure you want to dance right now?” he asks, looking at your nearly untouched drink.

“Yes, you don’t want to dance with me?” you frown.

“I do,” Johnny assures you, a warm smile on his face, “but Ten was just saying-”

“I’ll go with you,” comes Jaehyun’s smooth, steady voice.

“Jaehyun can go with you-” Johnny agrees and your heart swells at his innocence, his complete lack of jealousy towards Jaehyun, who, you’re beginning to realize, may provide a legitimate threat that your previous lovers were picking up on.

“No. I want you,” you tell Johnny sternly, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it does. You know you’re leaving Jaehyun dejected as you slip into the crowd with Johnny, but you can’t look back.

Jaehyun watches you leave, holding onto your tall boy toy like a lifeline as you wade into the people on the dance floor. Then, when you’re out of sight, Jaehyun turns his angry gaze to Ten, “Stop trying to wingman me with her.”

Mark giggles, watching the two stubborn men size each other up.

“You need to tell her how you feel,” Ten says.

“No, I don’t.” Jaehyun glares back.

“Do you think she told Johnny about it?” Mark asks quietly.

“It.” Ten laughs, “Mark are you a kid? Just say what happened, ask the question properly.” He looks to Jaehyun. “Do you think she told Johnny about the time she graciously let you eat her out at the end of the summer, last year?”

“I don’t think she even told Johnny I was a dude.” Jaehyun falls back against the booth.

Mark and Ten both look at each other and grimace. “That’s not good.”

“I know,” Jaehyun groans.

“She really likes Johnny,” Ten says almost thoughtfully.

Jaehyun looks out at the crowd, it’s easy enough to find Johnny because he’s taller than the other people around. Johnny’s head is dipped down, his lips pressed against yours, one hand cupping your cheek.

Something inside Jaehyun ignites and his hands clench at his sides. He finishes his drink, then stands up, entering the crowd. He finds the prettiest girl he can, the prettiest girl other than you, and within ten minutes he has her pressed against the door in the bathroom, his hand between her legs.

It’s two AM when Jaehyun looks at his phone next. He’s standing on his terrace, the warm night air ruffling his hair. Inside his room, a gorgeous brunette is asleep in a tangle of sheets. Jaehyun’s eyes scan the text message you’d sent an hour ago, and he feels a twinge of guilt at having missed it.

Baby (1:02AM) : Let me know you made it home safe!

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, quickly typing back.

Your phone screen lights up the room, making you open your eyes from the restless half-slumber you’d been trying to use as a distraction.

Behind you, Johnny is asleep, one of his arms thrown over your torso.

You slide from bed slowly, moving so you can go stand outside on Johnny’s terrace. It’s a beautiful night and the moon looks gorgeous in the sky as you assess your phone.

JaeJae (2:06AM) : Got home safe, hope you did too

JaeJae (2:08AM) : Goodnight, sleep well princess : )

You call him before you can stop yourself, and he answers immediately, voice hushed.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi. What are you doing still awake?” he asks softly.

“Couldn’t sleep without knowing you’d gotten home, you know?” You shrug, pulling Johnny’s hoodie tighter around your body. Three stories below, a cop car drives by, the siren cutting through the summer night air.

You hear your best friend smile on his end of the phone. “You outside?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Uh-huh.” A brief quiet, then, “the moon is nice.”

Your gaze lifts. “It is…” You open your mouth to say something else when you hear a female voice call out “Jae” in a whiney tone that has your skin turning cold.

“Fuck, I have to go.”

Your heart drops in your chest, but you try to sound positive when you say, “Yeah, it’s okay, you should sleep, I’ll see you soon?”

“We’ll do movie night tomorrow,” he suggests. “I’ll text you.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Night princess.” He hangs up and you let out a deep breath.

You stay outside for a few minutes longer, looking at the sky. When you head inside, returning under the covers, Johnny pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. “Where were you?” he asks.

“Outside,” you answer, breathing in as Johnny’s body warms you up, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin. “Go back to sleep,” you whisper softly, turning in Johnny’s arms so you can run your fingers through his hair, looking at his beautiful face.

Johnny gives you a gentle, lazy smile, pouting out his lips for one last kiss before he adjusts against his pillow. Within moments he’s asleep again.

You stay awake for a while, thinking about the events of tonight. Jaehyun had disappeared when you’d come back from the dance floor. What was supposed to be a get-together for Jaehyun and Johnny to get comfortable with each other, had turned into something else. But part of you can’t blame Jaehyun for slipping away, not after you’d been so clear about rejecting his offer of dancing with you, insisting that Johnny be the one to join you amongst the waves of people.

With another huff, you close your eyes, falling asleep a short while later.

When you dream, you dream of dark, handsome eyes. The eyes are not attached to a body, instead, they float in a cloud of colors, some dark, some light. You feel warm, and even in your sleep, you can feel yourself smiling.

“Jae, why are you always single?” you had asked, cuddled close to your best friend.

Jaehyun laughed. “Cuz I’m ugly,” he responded simply, although you both knew this to be the opposite of the truth.

You smacked your best friend lightly, beaming up at him. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You paused, examining his face. “For real. Don’t you ever want to have a girlfriend?”

He’d had one in sixth grade for a week, but that had been the only time in his life he’d ever had an official ‘girlfriend’. You were heading into another year of university, and the summer had been full of fun activities. You’d both been single, and this had given you the freedom to spend every waking moment together, driving around, going to amusement parks, scouring old record shops-

Jaehyun shrugged. “Don’t need one.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I know you can get laid whenever you want Jae, but I mean don’t you want the other stuff? Someone to come home to, someone to give pet names to, and love, and take home to meet your parents-”

As you listed things, Jaehyun wondered if you even realized that everything you mentioned were things he already had... with you.

He watched your beautiful face with a smile, and finally, he shrugged again. “I just don’t like commitment.” It was true, you were the only thing in his life he’d ever been committed to, the only thing he needed. Anything else, he was ready to drop at a moment’s notice, and he enjoyed living that way.

You frowned at his words. “Is it really that easy for you to just turn feelings off? To sleep with people and just... not care about them afterward?”

“I don’t know if it’s like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I care sometimes, I just don’t catch feels, there’s a difference. Sex can be just sex. If two people are horny, why not have some fun, you know?”

He’d watched the way you’d licked your lips at his words, and the sight turned him on more than he’d ever be able to tell you.

“So... if I was horny, and I asked you for sex, we could do that and it wouldn’t change our friendship at all?” you asked, clearly scared to meet his gaze. He could sense your fear of rejection, and it was a fear he wanted to quickly squash.

“Of course,” Jaehyun answered fluidly, his tone turning teasing. “Why, are you horny?”

“It's just, people have always said you have amazing tongue game, and well-”

“You want to know if it’s true because most guys you’ve slept with have sucked at oral.” Jaehyun finished your sentence for you, something he’d been doing since you were kids.

Mimicking his earlier action, you shrugged, and that was all it took to give Jaehyun permission. His fingers went under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and then he kissed you for the first time.

He’d wondered for years what kissing you would be like, but he’d never dared to try, to worried about how it would affect your friendship. But you’d just confirmed that nothing would have to change, there wouldn’t be any messy feelings with this. He could kiss you now, and still have you in his life tomorrow.

You leaned into the kiss, and Jaehyun could sense that you felt you had something to prove- to prove to him that you were just as good as any of the sorority girls or Instagram models he’d fucked.

He pulled you onto his lap, hands anchoring your waist, forcing you to grind down against him. He could feel his cock throbbing for you already, if only you knew how crazy you make him. A small whine escaped your lips and Jaehyun smirked, eating it up. “Ready to see what all the fuss is about?”

The music is loud, but then again, Jaehyun’s always had the best speakers to complement his extensive record collection. You’re dancing in his kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to pop in the microwave.

Your hips are moving to the beat of the song, and you don’t realize that Jaehyun’s eyes are glued to you.

Ten was right about summer feelings, and Jaehyun’s chest is empty while he watches you.

Life with you has always been easy. So easy that he’s somehow taken it for granted.

Jaehyun wants to tell you everything. Wants to tell you that he had lied when he said he could control whether or not he caught feelings. Wants to tell you that his heart has been yours since that day you were five and scraped your knee on the playground, he’d been assigned to take you to the nurse and had held your hand the whole way there, even kissed your bandaged knee, announcing ‘all better’ to the world.

He wants to tell you what he should have told you the moment he’d made you cum on his tongue last August, that he loves you. That he wants you to be his.

But Jaehyun is terrified of you. Terrified that you only see him as a friend, that the sex proposition you’d given him nearly a year ago had been purely physical.

He thought he could live a life with you as his half-girlfriend, fulfilling all the girlfriend duties minus the sex, which he could get at any time from any girl he wanted. But now Jaehyun knows that this idea was stupid, because seeing you with guys- seeing you with Johnny, has made him realize he could lose you.

Jaehyun had originally invited you to go on vacation with his family for a month, but you’d chosen to stay because you’d already planned a weekend getaway with Johnny and the dates had clashed. Jaehyun had even offered to fly you to meet his family a week late, but you’d declined.

The whole month he’d been gone he’d been missing you, hoping he could come back and things would return to normal, only to return and find you clinging to Johnny and happier than ever.

Jaehyun’s heart clenches in his chest.

He’s been called selfish before, but never when it comes to you.

Looking at you dance in the kitchen, he wants to be selfish for the first time.

As the microwave dings, signaling your food is done, you turn to excitedly tell Jaehyun, only to be met with a solid body standing so close you nearly smack into his chest.

Jaehyun grabs your face with both his hands, and before you can say anything, he presses his lips to yours.

He tastes just like he did a year ago, and the emotions all come flooding back. The confusion, the heartache- but despite this, the happy feelings are there too. The love that you’ve tried so hard to bury is unearthed, and your mind goes blank. You lean into the kiss-

Your phone rings and you nearly jump out of Jaehyun’s grasp, recognizing Johnny’s special ringtone that the two of you had chosen one day while on a coffee date. American Boy by Estelle, a song Johnny ‘identifies with’.

Until now, the song has always made you happy.

But standing in Jaehyun’s kitchen, with both of you staring at your phone, instead of happiness, the emotion you feel is guilt.

You begin to reach for your phone but Jaehyun grabs your hand instead, urging you to look at him. “Don’t answer it,” he says, voice cracking a little. His eyes are serious and they search yours for a sign, for something to tell him how you’re feeling.

“Jae-”

You know he loves the nickname you have for him, and part of you regrets it the moment it leaves you, because you’re sure that it will give him hope. You close your mouth, not sure where to look, so you look at the ground.

“Tell me you love me,” His voice is soft, as soft as you’ve ever heard it.

“I do love you,” you sigh.

His hand is still holding yours, and he gives it a small squeeze. “Tell me you love me more than him.”

Your heart clenches in your chest and you can feel your skin heating up. You’re confused and guilty, and you feel as if he’s pressuring you, which is not a good combination.

Jaehyun’s fingers go under your chin, forcing you to look up at his beautiful dark eyes. He looks so perfect, and it’s always taken your breath away, but now, with an uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on his face, he’s ethereal.

“Tell me you’ll be mine,” Jaehyun whispers, “not his.”

Those last two words - not his - spark something inside of you and you tear your hand from Jaehyun’s grasp.

“I can’t believe you,” you spit, anger fuelling into your soul. “You always get like this, you’re so competitive. It feels like every time I’m with a guy, you get so upset that I’m giving my attention to someone else. You’ve had years, Jae. Years to tell me you love me and-” You choke a little on your words and laugh. “You know the funny part? You haven’t even said it. You’ve been trying to get me to tell you that I love you- not even just that, you want me to tell you I love you more than Johnny!”

“You know I love you.” Jaehyun looks crushed, a pained expression on his face, and you’re aware that you’ve never yelled at him like this.

“I was in love with you for years, Jae!” You feel tears begin to spill from your eyes and you will them to disappear. “But you never wanted commitment! You never wanted me!”

“I did! I do!” he insists. “I just never realized-”

“Never realized,” you scoff, repeating his words back to him. “You’re just mad Johnny’s getting my attention. How dare you! How dare you see how happy Johnny makes me and try to mess that up after you’ve had years to say something!” You grab your phone and go to the door, leaving your purse and your shoes, too eager to escape to care. You simply leave, and Jaehyun doesn’t follow.

It isn't until he sits down on the couch minutes later that he realizes something. “I was in love with you for years, Jae!” you’d said. Was. As in, past tense.

As in, no longer.

Jaehyun pulls a pillow to his chest, the one you always cuddle with when you watch movies. It still smells like you. Jaehyun buries his face in your scent, and for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to cry.

Johnny’s chest is warm and secure. His arms hold you tightly as you cry, one of his hands petting the back of your head gently as you get rid of all the negativity balled up inside of you with tears that seem to last forever.

When you finally stop crying, Johnny sets you down on the couch, wrapping you in blankets and getting you tissues. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he’s always very good at knowing the right time to be quiet and give you space. You’re sure he knows you’ll tell him what’s wrong when you’re able to.

As you begin to calm down, Johnny makes you your favorite tea, bringing it to you in a mug with your first initial on it, he’s bought it for his apartment two weeks into dating to show you that you always have a place, and a cup, in his apartment.

Your phone rings and Johnny looks at it. “It’s Mark,” he tells you. “Should I answer?”

You shake your head and Johnny sets your phone down.

A few seconds later it rings again. “It’s Ten,” Johnny says softly.

“Just turn it off,” you frown, and Johnny does as he’s told, watching you sip your tea.

“Can I get you anything else, baby?” he asks.

You shake your head, staying quiet.

“Baby, if you don’t tell me what happened soon, I’m going to have to go out and start fighting people in the street. Whoever made my girlfriend cry is gonna-”

“Girlfriend?” You perk up a little and Johnny laughs.

He reaches out and pinches your chin lightly. “Knew that would make you smile,” he beams, “and yeah, I mean... unless you don’t want to be, unless it’s too soon.”

You set your tea down and nearly tackle Johnny onto the couch, making him laugh into the kiss that you eagerly press to his lips.

“Wow, baby, if I knew it was this easy to make you happy I would have asked you to be my girlfriend ages ago,” Johnny says when you finally stop kissing him.

You laugh at the notion. “No, ages ago would have been too soon.”

You’re laying on top of him on the couch, your legs on either side of his waist. You look down at his beautiful face and infectious smile. He’s so sweet, so soft, so exactly what you need. His hands rub your back soothingly and you know you love him.

You’d loved him since date number two, when he’d seen a little girl crying at the bottom of a tree and proceeded to climb the tree to rescue a kitten, who had clung to him so tight it had cut his arm, but Johnny hadn’t minded. The little girl’s mother had offered to pay Johnny for his heroic deed but he’d objected, instead accepting a pretty flower the little girl had offered, which he had then given to you.

Johnny is perfect... so why do you still feel confused and conflicted about Jaehyun?

“Something happened with Jaehyun,” you say, looking into Johnny’s eyes as he strokes your face.

“Uh oh, you’re calling him by his full name, he must have really messed up.” Johnny is always so good at remembering everything you tell him, good at picking up on your verbal cues, sometimes even before you do. “What happened?” His thumb brushes under your eye soothingly, ready to wipe away any tear that escapes.

“He... it was very weird,” you confess. “I think he tried to tell me he loved me, but he did it in a really weird way, and it made me really upset.”

“When you say ‘he tried to tell me he loved me’ you mean... like, love as in, I’m in love with you. Not just friend love?” Johnny clarifies.

“I think so. He tried to make me tell him I love him more than I love you.”

“Aw, baby, you love me?” Johnny’s expression softens and despite the negative emotions you’re feeling, you still beam at him.

“Yeah, and I’m your girlfriend now, so I’m allowed to say it,” you tease, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, baby.” He kisses you back, only breaking the kiss to let you continue your story. “Then what happened?”

“He wanted me to dump you,” you tell him, quickly continuing with, “and that’s crazy, of course. Jaehyun’s always like this. Whenever I’m seeing a guy, he gets so territorial.”

“You two have been friends for a long time,” Johnny points out.

“Aren’t you mad he tried to break us up?” you ask, shocked at your boyfriend's calm demeanor.

Johnny shakes his head. “I understand where he’s coming from. I’m not sure you being taken would have stopped me from trying to get you to be mine either.”

You think about his words. “I’m just-” You take a deep breath, not sure how to even say how you’re feeling.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Johnny can read you, and somehow he takes your emotions and puts them into words for you. “You’re confused because this is the first time he’s told you about his feelings and you’ve been in love with him before, but you’re with me now, so it’s not easy to know what to do with the feelings this must have brought up.”

You smile sadly at Johnny. “How do you know me so well?”

“I just do.” He kisses your nose. “I can see why you’d be conflicted about that.”

“You can?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry, I know this puts you in a weird position-”

“it doesn’t,” Johnny assures you. “You have feelings for Jaehyun that have been there a long time, that doesn’t make your feelings for me any less real, you know?”

“Johnny, you’re perfect.”

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs. “I’m glad you talked to me about this, communication is really important.”

“I’m glad too, but I have to tell you something else... He kissed me, just for a moment, and it was so shocking-”

“Did you kiss him back?” This is the first time Johnny frowns.

“I don’t think so, it happened so fast and then my phone rang. But I yelled at him and left right after, then you came and picked me up, and now here we are,” you explain.

Johnny is quiet for a moment, then he looks over at your phone. “So this is why Ten and Mark won’t stop calling.”

“It’s fine, I can talk to them tomorrow,” you brush it off.

“I think you should call them back,” Johnny says. “Your friends are important, and this is something they know more about than I do. It might help for you to talk to them. You can go on the balcony if you want, I’ll go to my room and work on some stuff with headphones to give you privacy.”

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, and when you’re done, come to bed and we’ll cuddle and watch a Disney movie or something to make you feel better okay?”

“Johnny?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“I do really love you.”

“And I really love you too.” Johnny beams at you, then he grabs your phone, handing it to you. “Now go call your friends and take however long you need to clear your head and sort this out, I’ll be here for you when you’re done.”

You press one more kiss to his soft lips before getting up and going to the terrace. You call Ten first, but he’s quick to add Mark to the line, and soon, you’re telling them everything that happened.

“I can’t believe Jae finally manned up and told you,” Mark says when your story is done.

“I can’t believe he tried to make you tell him you love him more than Johnny,” Ten muses. “That dude is fucked in the head sometimes.”

You let out a deep sigh, not wanting to verbally agree with the statement, but what Ten has said is true. Jaehyun has never been great with handling emotions, and tonight’s actions are just one reflection of that fact.

“So what now?” Mark asks. “I mean- Jae was messaging me as soon as you left, which is why we called, but I told him to just give you space.”

You take a deep breath, looking out at the streets below. “Space is a good idea.”

“I mean… you’re with Johnny now, officially, and you just said you love each other,” Ten points out. “Looks like Jae seriously missed the boat.”

“I’m still shocked Johnny’s not mad,” Mark chuckles anxiously.

“Yeah, he’s taking this really well, all things considered,” Ten agrees. “Although… you didn’t tell him about the time Jaehyun ate you out.”

“I was going to-” you admit. “But it was already so much on his plate to begin with…”

Your friends stay quiet, giving you space to process everything.

“You’ve had a long night,” Mark says finally. “Maybe you should sleep on it.”

“Sleep on what?” you laugh, annoyance flooding through you at the whole situation.

“I guess- I just thought…” You hear Mark swallow thickly. “I thought maybe this would change things.”

“It changes nothing,” you state, but you’re sure you all know how big of a lie that is.

Jaehyun admitting he has feelings for you changes everything- perhaps the only thing it doesn’t change is how you feel for Johnny.

“Sleep on it,” Ten agrees. “If you need anything, let us know.”

“You should really eat something,” Johnny says, carefully settling down onto the couch next to you. He has a bowl of fried rice in his hands, and he holds it out.

“I don’t feel like it,” you frown. “My stomach is in knots.”

He simply looks at you for a moment, then he reaches over to place the food on the coffee table. Once he’s relaxed again, body angled toward yours, he gently takes your hand. “What can I do to make this better?”

“You’re already doing more than enough,” you admit. “Part of me feels like I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you deserve it,” Johnny insists.

“Yeah, but we’re still so new… most guys I’ve dated met Jaehyun and dumped me pretty soon after, I’m used to it by now.”

“Sounds like you’ve been dating insecure pieces of shit.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his words, and you nod in agreement. “I guess that’s probably true.” You take a deep breath. “I have something else to tell you.”

“Okay.” Johnny gives you the space to collect your thoughts.

“Last summer, Jaehyun and I…” you release a pent-up sigh. “Gosh, this feels so vulgar to even admit- he uh… he ate me out.” Part of you doesn’t want to look at Johnny, but another side of you needs to see his reaction, so you take a peek at your new boyfriend.

He lets out a surprised laugh. “Okay?”

“Is it okay?” you press.

“Yeah? Honestly, I was expecting you to say the two of you had fucked before, so hearing he only ate you out is kind of… underwhelming? But in a good way.” He strokes your hand gently.

“You’re taking this whole thing really well,” you tell him, unable to help the smile that works its way onto your face.

“I mean, you’re hot, he’s hot- and this whole eating out thing was last year, I’d be an asshole to hold it against you.”

“Yes, it was last year, but then he kissed me last night, so that’s more recent, and I just wanted to come clean with you on everything.”

“I appreciate that.” Johnny offers you a smile. “Come here.” He pulls you into a hug, and your entire body relaxes in his embrace. He holds you until you move away, and when you settle back against the couch, his hand finds yours again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “So what are you thinking about this whole thing now?”

“I mean… I’m with you. Jaehyun had his chance, and he never took it. I’m frustrated that it took him seeing me happy to finally admit his feelings, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Johnny nods, and you can see the cogs of his mind working away behind his chocolate-brown eyes.

“You look like you want to say something,” you muse after a few moments of silence.

“I’m just thinking,” Johnny tells you, and now it’s your turn to give him space to process. “Listen, you’re right about things being new between the two of us.” You can tell Johnny is choosing his words very carefully. “If we were a few months further along with this, I wouldn’t be suggesting what I’m about to say to you, but I think we’re at a place where what I’m going to offer is doable because we don’t have a steady rhythm yet.”

Your heart lurches into your throat and you hang onto his next words.

“As I said last night, you and Jaehyun have history. I can tell that you’re torn, and I appreciate your loyalty to me even though we’ve only been dating a short while,” Johnny states. “However, even with all of that said, I don’t want to be the reason you don’t explore something with him, something that’s clearly been building for years. And unlike all those other insecure assholes you’ve dated, I’m really not the jealous type.”

You blink at Johnny, doing your best to register the unsaid connotation of what he’s suggesting.

“So…” Johnny swallows thickly, “as long as what we have doesn’t change too much, as long as we still spend a lot of time together, I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing you with him, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

You stare at him blankly. “Sharing.”

“Yeah, sharing,” Johnny laughs. “I mean, he’s your best friend, so if this whole shit show hadn’t happened, I would have been sharing you a lot anyways.”

“How are you so chill with all of this?”

Johnny simply shrugs. “I guess I’ve never been one to feel that restricted by cultural expectations. Some people have more than enough love to share it, and it’s clear that there’s room for two people in your heart. I’m just the lucky son of a bitch that gets the chance to have part of you, despite your long history with Jaehyun.”

There’s nothing you can really say as you look at the man who’s already turned your life upside down. All you can do is whisper an honest, “I love you,” before pressing your lips to his.

Johnny kisses you back, one hand moving to cup your face as he lays you down onto the couch.

You get lost in him, your tumultuous thoughts about Jaehyun dissipating as Johnny takes over.

Jaehyun nearly jumps out of bed when his phone rings and your contact appears on the screen. He almost drops his phone in his haste to answer, his fingers becoming almost butter-like with anxiety. Still, he manages to hit the accept button, and his heart hammers in his chest when he says a meager, “Hello?”

It’s silence on the other end, and Jaehyun has to double-check the call didn’t drop. Then, “Hi.”

He doesn’t even know what to say to you. He has so many things that want to come out, a flurry of thoughts and feelings- but he decides on the safe option, which is a quick, “I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I’m uh- I shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have told you to tell me you love me more than your boyfriend. That was uh…” he remembers what Mark told him, “wrong. It was wrong for me to do that.”

“It was,” you agree, and the words hurt him. Jaehyun maybe partly expected you to say it was all okay, to absolve him of the guilt he’s feeling, but no- this is a burden he’s going to have to carry from now on. “I’m still not happy about it.” God, another cut to his heart. “Saying that, however, I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Confusion sets in.

“I want you to talk to Johnny.”

“Johnny?” Jaehyun is shocked. “For what? Is he going to kick my ass or something?”

He can hear a hint of a smile on your lips when you assure him, “He’s not going to kick your ass.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure? Because that guy is bigger than me and we both know I rely on my face to survive.”

“I’m sure,” you sigh. “I’m going to give him your number, just wanted to let you know.”

Jaehyun fiddles with the sleeve of his hoodie. “We’re still friends right?”

“Yes, Jae, we’re still friends. I’m just… processing all of this.”

Yet again, Jaehyun pulls up a saying from one of your close mutuals, going for one of Ten’s classic, “Valid,” statements.

“Anyways, I should go, but yeah, Johnny will text you.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

You hang up the phone and Jaehyun lets out a deep breath, collapsing back onto his bed. He’s happy you called and touched base, but he has no idea what to expect from your new boyfriend.

Johnny is waiting at the cafe when Jaehyun arrives. He’d taken the liberty of getting Jaehyun’s coffee order from you before he’d left his apartment, so when the pretty man walks in, there’s no time wasted with him standing in line.

Offering a smile, Johnny waves your best friend over, pushing the cup toward Jaehyun’s side of the table.

Jaehyun stands there for a moment, looking down at the coffee and then up at Johnny. “This is weird,” he says finally.

“It’s about to get weirder,” Johnny jokes. “Sit down.”

With a sigh, Jaehyun does as he’s told, his eyes averted.

Johnny is used to guys being scared of him due to his size alone, and more than almost anyone, Jaehyun has a reason to be on edge. After only meeting once, there’s no way for Jaehyun to know Johnny is a gentle giant, and the elder man is quick to attempt to rectify this. “I’m not here to fight,” he says softly.

“I’d understand if you were,” Jaehyun sighs. “I kissed your girlfriend and tried to break the two of you up.”

Johnny can only laugh. “I’m not the jealous type.”

“That makes one of us.”

“At least you can admit to that,” Johnny notes. “That’s a good start. I can understand why you’d be jealous, I mean, I’m dating your best friend, and from what Mark and Ten tell me, you’ve been into her for a long time.”

Jaehyun simply shrugs, looking down at his untouched coffee.

“Look, I didn’t come here for an apology,” Johnny says.

“You didn’t?”

“No, y/n’s the one you need to apologize to, she’s the one you need to smooth things over with. The whole kiss situation was very… confusing for her, and I’m sure you can understand why.”

“I guess.” Jaehyun reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.

“She cares about you,” Johnny states, and for the first time since sitting down, Jaehyun meets his gaze. “You two have a bond that goes back for years. You’re an important part of her life, and she doesn’t want to lose that.”

“That’s nice to hear and everything, but shouldn’t she be the one telling me this?” Jaehyun asks.

“I’m sure once things settle over, she will, but first, we have to discuss a few things.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to think that you being semi-combative right now has more to do with the whole kiss thing than you not liking me,” Johnny admits with a laugh. “Because if you don’t like me, what I’m about to suggest is never going to work out.”

Jaehyun simply looks Johnny up and down, remaining silent.

“It’s obvious y/n cares about you,” Johnny states. “She cares about me too. And I know she has room for both of us, if we can get along.”

“Of course she has room for both of us, I’m her best friend.”

“I mean… she has room for both of us as more than friends.”

“Huh?”

Johnny finds it almost comical how confused Jaehyun looks. “What I’m saying is- even if the kiss never happened, I’d be sharing her with you. But the kiss did happen, and it’s clear you want something more- she and I are still very new in our relationship, and with newness comes… flexibility.”

“Flexibility,” Jaehyun repeats, and there’s not a hint of two working brain cells behind those pretty eyes of his.

Johnny can’t help but let out a chuckle. He reaches for his coffee, leaning back against his chair. “Yeah, flexibility.” He sips on his drink while Jaehyun takes time to process.

“So you’re saying…” Jaehyun looks to Johnny to finish the sentence, but Johnny doesn’t want to give him that satisfaction. He wants to see Jaehyun work it out himself. “You’re saying… you’re… flexible… about… sharing… your girlfriend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And… what did… uh, what did she say about all of this?”

Johnny shrugs. “She’s open to it. Like I said, she’s still a little upset about how this whole thing happened, but you two have history, if you apologize enough, she’ll work through it.”

“And you’re… completely chill about all of this?” Jaehyun asks.

“I suggested it.”

“You did?”

“It’s a two birds, one stone kind of problem, don’t you think?”

Jaehyun cocks his head to the side. “Are we the birds?”

Johnny can only smile. “Sure.”

“So… now what?”

“Now, we try to be friends, you fix things with y/n, and we see what happens.”

“What do you get out of all of this?” Jaehyun asks, and there’s a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “You know I’m straight, right?”

Johnny nearly chokes on his coffee. “Dude. We’re both straight.”

“Okay, I was just checking.”

“Look- I care about y/n, she cares about you. I’d rather do this and keep her, than have your history impact my future. Also… I mean, in this day and age of adult content, I think a lot of us have… watcher tendencies, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m a doer, not a watcher,” Jaehyun insists.

“You don’t watch any porn?”

“I never said that.”

Jaehyun is lucky he’s pretty.

You’re watching a show when your phone rings. Johnny is passed out behind you, and you’re quick to answer the call so the sound doesn’t wake him. “One sec,” you whisper to Jaehyun on the other end of the line, checking over your shoulder. Johnny is still asleep and as you gently wiggle from his grasp, he stirs slightly but repositions and continues his gentle snores.

You go out onto the terrace, bringing your phone to your ear. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he responds.

“So… how’s it going?” you ask.

Jaehyun lets out a sigh. “Weird day.”

“Yeah, Johnny told me all about it.”

“I guess that’s not a shock,” Jaehyun admits. “What did he say?”

“He told me about your talk.” You swallow thickly. “Said… said you were open to his suggestion.”

“The whole sharing thing,” your best friend clarifies.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think about it?” he asks.

You choose your words carefully. “I think it’s an interesting idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean… you and I do have a history.”

“We do,” he agrees.

“I just… you don’t date, Jaehyun. I’m still mad at you that you waited so long to make a move. I’m mad that when you kissed me, you still tried to make me tell you I love you, and you didn’t confess many of your own feelings.”

You hear him swallow thickly. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t do any of it correctly.”

“So how would you have done it? Correctly, I mean.”

“I should have told you how I felt a long time ago,” he admits. “It shouldn’t have taken you finding someone like Johnny to make me snap.”

“No, it shouldn’t have. You’re lucky he’s such a wonderful guy that he didn’t come knock your teeth in.”

“I am lucky,” Jaehyun says softly. There’s a beat of silence then, “That night, you said you were in love with me for years… it felt very past tense.”

“And? Is there a question there?”

“I guess… I’m just… You don’t love me anymore?”

“It’s complicated.”

“But you want to try this whole threesome thing,” he points out. “So… that must mean there’s still feelings.”

“It’s not just a threesome thing,” you point out. “Johnny’s suggesting an actual sort-of-open sort-of-closed relationship where I can date both of you.”

“Right, yeah.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Good?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Talk to me, Jae.”

“I just… Won’t it be weird if you’re dating two guys?”

You think about it for a moment. “Maybe. But, even if I was just dating Johnny and you were my best friend- we’ve acted like a couple for a long time, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Maybe this is a good test to see if you can actually do commitment,” you suggest.

“Maybe.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“I guess I’m just worried about how it will be with Johnny.”

“You mean how jealous you’ll get.”

“It was hard to see him with you.”

“And yet, he’s open to seeing us be happy. Why do you think it’s so hard for you to watch me be happy with someone else?”

“Because I want to be the main source of your happiness, I guess.”

Why is that kind of sad? Why do you find yourself frowning?

“Look, we can give it a try, have a little date, and see how things feel.”

“A date,” he repeats, and you can hear the smile in his words. “That sounds nice.”

“Maybe you could come over to Johnny’s place and we can get takeout and watch a movie or something.”

“Right, Johnny will be there.”

“Of course he’ll be there.” Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

“Sorry, I was just- I don’t know, I thought maybe it would be a separate dates situation.”

“It’s a triangle, not a ‘V’ where I do separate things with you both.”

“But you’re with him alone right now.”

“Cuz he’s my boyfriend?” Jaehyun’s starting to annoy you now. “Jaehyun, we’re inviting you into this, into our relationship, of course I’m going to spend more time alone with him than with you.”

You’ve never been one to fight with Jaehyun, but after that kiss- well, he’s getting on your nerves more and more, and you’re worried about what the outcome of this little experiment will be.

“Right, sorry, I’m still not thinking straight,” Jaehyun apologizes.

“If you don’t want to do this-”

“I do,” he insists. “I want- I want you, and if that means I have to jump through these hoops, then, I guess I’ll jump through these hoops.”

“I’m not sure this will be a great fit,” you admit. “You’re just so possessive, Jae, you always have been.”

“I’m working on it, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath. “It’s late. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

It’s odd to have Jaehyun coming into Johnny’s apartment, and you find yourself clinging to your boyfriend while he gives your best friend a small tour. Jaehyun is cordial, his gaze slipping to you more frequently than not, and you do your best to see the possibility of this whole situation working out.

You’re still confused about your feelings, but it’s kind of nice to have an open space to explore them like this. Johnny truly is the best person you’ve ever met- he’s so understanding, and you don’t want to hurt him in any way, shape, or form.

It’s difficult to wrap your head around the fact that he’s cool with the idea of sharing. Too many social norms and expectations create an anxiety that’s swirling in your gut as the takeout arrives and the three of you settle in the living room.

“What sort of movies do you watch, Jaehyun?” Johnny asks, already scrolling through Netflix.

“Rom-coms and horror mostly.”

“Those are pretty different genres,” your boyfriend laughs. “What do you think, baby? Romance, or horror?”

You’re not particularly in the mood for watching a rom-com with Jaehyun, besides, you’ve seen so many of them with him already. “Let’s do a scary movie,” you decide.

“Works for me,” Johnny nods, switching to the horror section.

The three of you eat your takeout while discussing movies, and you end up settling on some ghost horror film none of you have seen before. You immediately settle in with Johnny, becoming his small spoon out of habit. Jaehyun, meanwhile, shifts awkwardly at the end of the couch.

You try not to think too much about Jaehyun, and the cheap scares in the film are enough to distract you. At your back, Johnny’s soft snores tell you he’s fallen asleep, but his warm arms keep you close.

“This feels weird,” Jaehyun says after a while.

“What does?” you sigh.

“I fucked up, and you’re still mad at me.”

“Part of me thought you were going to say it’s weird seeing me with Johnny,” you admit.

“Shockingly enough, I’m getting used to seeing you as a couple. Told you I’d work on my jealousy, didn’t I?”

You can’t help but laugh. “I guess maybe things are a little tense still, but that will go away with time.”

“Will it?”

“Yeah?”

Jaehyun shifts on the couch. “I am sorry. You know I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you nod.

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything else, but this small interaction has helped. When the movie finishes, you and Johnny walk Jaehyun to the door. He gives you a lingering hug goodbye before you go to bed with Johnny, happy with how the ‘date’ had gone.

Things are getting more normal, and you find yourself at a club with Jaehyun, Johnny, Mark and Ten, like you had that first night you’d introduced your boyfriend to your best friend.

Ten is obvious with his side eye, the way he looks both men up and down, whereas Mark has the decency to be more incognito about things, although, you can tell he’s just as confused as Ten is.

When Johnny and Jaehyun head to the bar to get drinks for your table, they’re not five feet away when Ten practically launches at you. “What’s the tea?”

You can only laugh, taking a sip of your nearly empty rum and coke.

“So has the whole sharing thing happened yet?” Mark asks, ears turning pink at his own question.

“We would have heard if it had,” Ten retorts with a quick eye roll. “She’s waiting, making Jaejae sweat.”

“I’m just getting comfy with him again,” you admit. “There’s always a chance this whole idea won’t work out, and I want to be sure he’s not going to be jealous like he always is if something doesn’t go the way he wants it.”

Ten looks you up and down. “Girl, good luck.”

“Don’t say it like that,” you laugh.

“As soon as Jaejae gets in your pants he’s going to be a stage five clinger and we all know it,” Ten insists.

You can only shake your head, your gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who are wading back through the crowd with drinks in their hands.

This conversation is put on the back burner, but it remains present in your mind.

After the club, you end up at Johnny’s apartment with Jaehyun in tow. Your skin is tingling with ‘what ifs,’ your heart nearly thundering out of your rib cage.

It’s clear from the way Jaehyun’s moving, precise, and a little apprehensive, that a threesome is in his thoughts as well.

Johnny, however, feels as calm and collected as ever. “More drinks?” he suggests, heading to his fridge to pull out three beers. “Jae, catch.”

Your best friend easily catches the beer, quickly cracking it open and bringing it to his lips. You watch his shoulders relax a little, and you release your own deep breath.

“So,” Johnny says, dragging you to his side. “We’ve been hanging out for two weeks, how are we feeling?”

God, he’s so direct. You love it and you hate it at the same time.

Your eyes shift to Jaehyun, and he meets your gaze. “I mean, it’s up to you two.”

“I’m down,” Johnny responds smoothly. “How are you feeling, baby?”

“Can we start slow?” you ask, heart still racing in your chest.

“Slow how?” Johnny prompts, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Like… oral things? Between me and him, I mean.” Your skin flushes and you hope Jaehyun doesn’t take this the wrong way- hope it’s not a sign of favouritism rather than the truth of the fact which is; you’re more comfortable with Johnny, despite your history with Jaehyun.

“Just oral works,” Johnny assures you. “Right, Jae?”

“Yeah, whatever you’re comfortable with,” Jaehyun nods.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to the bedroom.” Johnny takes your hand, guiding you to his room. It’s such a familiar space- and it feels odd to have Jaehyun in it. Jaehyun stops at the threshold, watching you and Johnny.

Your boyfriend downs his beer, setting the empty can onto the bedside table before grabbing you with both hands. His lips are hot against yours, his skilled tongue tasting your own while you let out a small moan.

You can feel Jaehyun’s eyes on you, and it’s an interesting sensation.

“Do you two want to explore each other a little?” Johnny asks.

You nod, turning to look at Jaehyun. He’s hesitant to approach you, but when he does, you step forward, allowing him to grab your hips and pull you closer.

Neither of you say anything, you’re too lost in his eyes as he slowly closes the distance between your lips.

It’s a soft kiss, one you hadn’t quite expected. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, urging him to come closer, to deepen things. Jaehyun rewards you by teasing his tongue past your lips, and you gladly accept him.

You cup his cheek and his hand slides down to the small of your back, guiding you to the bed. He carefully helps you onto it, climbing on top of you.

“You good?” Jaehyun asks.

“Let’s do this,” you nod.

“Just oral, right?” he clarifies, pressing his lips to your throat.

“Maybe sixty-nine? And then… maybe… well, this is a threesome, so… spit roasting with you in my mouth?”

“You’ve got this all figured out,” Jaehyun says softly. “Whatever you want.”

You grab at his shirt, looking up at him as you begin to unbutton it.

After a moment of shaky fingers, Jaehyun sits up, undoing the fabric so it can fall to the side of the bed.

You’ve always known Jaehyun’s ripped, but seeing it this close is something different. Despite all the history, despite the butchered kiss a few weeks ago- your body tingles at the notion of getting a taste of your best friend.

“You next,” Jaehyun whispers, grabbing at the hem of your shirt. You allow him to tug it off of you, and soon, you’re both getting out of your pants too.

Jaehyun kisses you when you’re both stripped down to underwear, and he grinds against your core so you can feel how hard he already is.

You moan from the sensation, your pussy throbbing with excitement.

“Here,” Jaehyun rolls the both of you so you’re now on top. “You should be in control, I’ll follow your lead.”

You look down at him for a second, then you turn your head to find Johnny. He’s standing by the wall, hands in his pockets. He’s not touching himself, but you can see the outline of his cock in his pants. He flashes you a wink that acts as a go-ahead, and you muster your courage to adjust on top of Jaehyun, getting into the sixty-nine position.

You both still have underwear on, and you start by teasing Jaehyun through his breifs.

He releases a groan, and you can feel his breath on your panty clad pussy, a shiver running through you at the stimulus.

“Lift your hips, Jaejae, I wanna take these off.” You gently tug at the band of his briefs, letting them snap back to his skin. Jaehyun lets out a soft moan, following through and lifting his hips so you can tug the fabric down to his knees, exposing his hard cock.

He’s not as big as Johnny, but Jaehyun’s cock is as pretty as the rest of him. You can’t help but lick it from balls to tip, and Jaehyun shivers below you. He tugs your panties to the side, grabbing your hips to pull your pussy down onto his face.

So that’s how it’s going to be.

You go for it, and he does too. A mutual pleasure session.

You sink your mouth onto Jaehyun’s cock, licking at it with your tongue and taking as much as you can before beginning to bob your head up and down.

Jaehyun pulls your clit between your lips in response, flicking at it and making you groan around his cock.

You begin to suck him off faster, urging him to do the same to your core. His tongue glides between your pussy lips, and he moans desperately.

You wonder what you taste like. Wonder if he’s missed the taste of you for a year, wonder if he’s dreamt about this-

Jaehyun laps at your pussy like a man starved, and you can tell the sounds of enjoyment escaping him are mostly related to the eating of your pussy moreso than the blow job you’re giving him. The thought turns you on even more, and you grind down against his face, urging him to make you cum.

You can already taste your orgasm- it feels so natural to be cumming like this, Jaehyun’s cock burried in your mouth and his tongue deep in your pussy between your thighs-

A gentle hand pulls you off of Jaehyun, and you look up to find Johnny staring down at you. “Close, baby?” he asks, pinching your chin softly.

“Yeah,” you nod, licking your lips. “So close-”

“Cum on his tongue, and then we can share you properly. As pretty as the sounds you’re making are, we both know you like to be filled with something bigger than a tongue.”

Your toes curl at the thought of Johnny fucking you with his thick cock, and you take gasped breaths, your skin tingling as Jaehyun works you closer and closer-

You begin to stroke him off, all while staring up at Johnny and grinding against Jaehyun’s face.

“I’m there- I’m there- fuck-” you cry desperately as Jaehyun pulls your clit into his mouth, sucking you like his life depends on it and throwing you over the edge.

Your orgasm surges through you-

“Don’t close your eyes,” Johnny warns. “Look at me.”

Somehow his words make the sensation even more extreme, your pussy throbbing desperately around nothing while you stare up at your boyfriend.

While you cum, Johnny pulls out his cock, and without a moment’s hesitation you put it in your mouth. Now you’re cumming, riding Jaehyun’s face, stroking him off, and blowing Johnny all at the same time-

This is what a threesome should be, you realize, and you’re desperate for what comes next.

“Get it all lubed up,” Johnny praises you, petting your head. “When you’re done cumming, let us know.”

You’re still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, and after a minute you pull off of Johnny’s cock to nod at him. “I’m ready for more.”

“Good girl,” he grins. “You know what to do.”

You climb off of Jaehyun, turning to present your ass to Johnny.

“While Jaehyun gets into position, I think we should both get naked,” Johnny announces, “it’s only fair.

You slip out of your panties, your bra following quickly afterward, and soon, all three of you are naked to each other’s eyes. You’re on your hands and knees, looking up at Jaehyun while Johnny pulls your ass cheeks apart, teasing his cock through your wet folds.

“Do you want me to fuck your face?” Jaehyun asks, smirking down at you.

It’s clear that eating you out gave him some confidence. Gone is the hesitancy, and in it’s place is this suave man, the man you’ve always known, the best friend who picks up chicks everywhere he goes.

“Fuck my face,” you tell him, leaning forward to capture his cock in your mouth.

“No cumming down her throat though,” Johnny warns.

“Then where am I supposed to cum?” Jaehyun asks, thrusts already faltering as he stares at your boyfriend.

“Her tits? Your own chest? Just not her mouth or face,” Johnny responds.

“Whatever you say,” Jaehyun sighs, quickly finding a rhythm.

Johnny pushes his own cock into your pussy, forcing you forward on Jaehyun, whose cock hits the back of your throat.

You gag slightly, but oddly enough, it’s not the worst sensation in the world. “Think she likes choking,” Johnny muses. “Your pussy just got so tight for me, baby. Do you like that?”

You let out a sound of affirmation, trying to take more of Jaehyun in your mouth as the two men begin a push pull of thrusts. You feel like a ragdoll, but there’s something so freeing about it-

“See? Threesomes are fun,” Johnny notes, causing Jaehyun to chuckle and you to moan loudly while your throat and pussy get used simultaneously.

“She’s good at sucking dick,” Jaehyun says wistfully, fucking your face harder.

“She’s good at most things, don’t know if you realized this, but your best friend is a little over achiever,” Johnny muses, his tone soft.

“Is it bad if I cum fast?” Jaehyun asks. “I’ve been wanting this for so long- to have her actually sucking my dick is a little, uh… overwhelming.”

“Cum on her tits whenever you want,” Johnny responds smoothly. “I’ll finish her and I off once you’re done.”

“Okay, yeah,” Jaehyun’s motions falter ever so slightly. “Fuck, princess, you just feel so good-”

You look up at Jaehyun, and you see him shiver when you meet his gaze.

“You love this, huh?” he asks. “Love having two cocks inside you?”

You can only moan a sound of affirmation, and Jaehyun sucks in a harsh breath. “Okay, shit, fuck-” he pulls out of your mouth, hand finding his cock-

Johnny adjusts you ever so slightly, holding you up and arching your back almost to an unbearable point- giving Jaehyun full access to your tits as he jacks off-

“Fuck-” Jaehyun groans again, throwing his head back as ropes of white cum spurt out of him, painting your chest.

Johnny fucks you faster, his large cock spreading you open like nothing else ever has.

Jaehyun finally stops, and Johnny helps you onto your knees, one hand finding your throat to hold you with your back to his chest. “Look at you, all covered in cum,” Johnny whispers in your ear.

You moan, resting your head back on his shoulder.

Johnny’s other hand finds your chest, and he swipes a finger through the cum, bringing it to your lips. “Guess I should let you have a taste.”

You greedily suck his fingers into your mouth, and Jaehyun’s brand of cum explodes across your tastebuds. He’s a healthy guy, with a focus on clean eating, and his cum reflects that.

“Want you to play with your cum covered tits, give Jaehyun a show while I make us cum,” Johnny instructs. “In fact, play with your clit too.”

Your right hand slips between your legs, two fingers rubbing your clit in fast, harsh circles. Your other hand finds your breasts, squeezing the pump flesh and spreading Jaehyun’s cum across your skin while he sits back and stares up at you in shock.

“Feels good?” Johnny asks.

“Feels so good,” you groan, walls clenching around Johnny as he builds you up to another orgasm.

You pinch your nipple, squealing at the sensation while Johnny fucks you even harder.

“You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” Johnny questions, his breath hot on your throat, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Yeah-” you nod, unable to think too much as your high quickly approaches.

“Here, I’ll rub your clit, I know you like giving up control when you cum.” Johnny pushes your hand to the side, two much rougher fingers finding your sensitive bud.

You let out a cry of desperation, your stomach muscles clenching in anticipation-

“That’s it, baby, cum for me,” Johnny coos in your ear. “Cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

You can’t help yourself, your pussy squeezes Johnny incredibly tight as your orgasm hits you, throbbing through your whole body and making you gasp in ecstasy.

“That’s it,” Johnny grins, burying his face in the crook of your neck. From his sounds, you know he’s close too, and after three more rough thrusts, he’s cumming deep in your core, filling you with everything he has to offer.

Johnny fucks you through your highs, and when he finishes, he simply stops, breathing heavily in your ear. “Shower?” he says after a moment.

“Shower,” you agree.

“Jae, I’ll uh-” Johnny runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll see you out, unless you wanna crash on the couch.”

“I can go,” Jaehyun responds almost too casually, and you notice he’s already half hard again. You’d bet your life he’s going to go home and rub another one out to the thought of you covered in his cum and playing with your tits-

“Come on, baby,” Johnny carries you bridal style to the bathroom, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You don’t feel the need to say goodbye to Jaehyun as the hot water begins to fall against your skin, washing the cum away.

You’re so tired there’s not much going through your mind.

Johnny is true to his word, rejoining you a short time later.

He scrubs your body clean, and helps you with your towel when you’re done. As the two of you get back into bed, your phone dings, and you see a message there from Jaehyun.

JaeJae (2:00 am): that was fun

JaeJae (2:00 am) we should do that again sometime

JaeJae (2:00 am) goodnight princess

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I miss JohnJae, so I'm happy I was able to write a fic for them again :)

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🔮 preview. You can only whine and whimper, held down by his weight and unable to do anything. This position is definitely a favourite, you’re their little pillow princess, and you love nothing more than laying there and taking cock.

cw/ tw. Threesome, Johnny participates as a watcher, unprotected sex, voyuerism, fucking with a skirt on, breast worship, creampie, cumming together, dirty talk, praise, slight edging, begging, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby & princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 1.6k I teaser wc. 80

🌙 starring. Jaehyun & Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

“Straight up,” Ten sighs, watching Johnny and Jaehyun standing by the bar waiting for drinks, “I did not think this was going to work.”

“Me neither,” you admit, laughing.

“I guess Jae just needed the right dom to control the situation, huh?” Ten cocks his head to the side, thinking the whole thing through.

“When you say it like that, it sounds a little odd,” you giggle, “but maybe.”

“Who knew Jaehyun could share.” Ten shakes his head again. “I’m shook.”

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sugurugetoshairbrush · 3 months ago

Text

Peeping on your neighbor DILF!Getou Suguru [next]

Here I go again starting something new when my drafts are full of WIPs...

Consider this Getou's 35th bday gift 💋

[fanart by: @polariae on X (#needhim) / cw: peeping]

Everyone has guilty pleasures—secret indulgences they hide from prying eyes, vices they pretend don’t exist.

But no matter how satisfying they may be, how deeply they scratch that internal itch, reality always comes crashing down. And when it does, it cuts deep, jagged shards of shame slicing through delusion.

The worst realizations come after you’ve sunk too far, waded too deep into depravity, so numb to your own self-indulgence that you can’t even recognize it for what it is. Like the old tale of the frog in boiling water—oblivious to its slow, inevitable demise.

And right now? Being awake before even the birds have stirred, wedged between your thick curtains and the wall, peering through the narrow slit with bated breath?

That’s your boiling water.

You lift your arm carefully, tapping your smartwatch. The dim glow illuminates the numbers.

4:55 AM.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. Even the faintest intake of air feels like a risk, as if he might somehow sense your presence.

It’s happening.

Slowly, he stands from the black velvet club chair, folding his newspaper—the Times, maybe?—with meticulous precision before setting it on the bed. He stretches, arms lifting over his head, his body rolling fluidly as he shakes off the last remnants of sleep. A slow bounce on the balls of his feet. A lazy roll of his shoulders.

Then he moves toward the closet, flicking the light on.

You barely stifle a squeak.

Illuminated, his sleep-heavy eyes remain hooded, half-lidded with exhaustion. He crosses his arms over the hem of his faded gray sleep shirt and lifts it in one smooth motion. The fabric slides over his toned torso, revealing the defined cut of his V-line, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. His flannel pants dip dangerously low on his hips.

Your mouth goes dry.

As he rifles through his wardrobe, his back muscles flex under the shifting light, honey-bronzed skin rippling as he moves. He pulls out a crisp, white button-up, holding it to the light. The subtle gleam of a barbell piercing peeks through his nipple.

You swallow—loudly.

The wet click of it makes you cringe in embarrassment, even though you’re entirely alone.

You sink down, sliding soundlessly against the wall until you’re curled into yourself, head in your hands.

I have got to get a grip.

𓂃۶ৎ

“You’ve got to get a grip.”

Across from you, Yu stares, wide-eyed and incredulous.

His big, brown eyes are filled with concern, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. He reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over your own, rubbing your knuckles in reassurance.

“I say this with the utmost love and care,” he begins, voice low and serious, “but you are genuinely starting to scare me.”

You tilt your head, amused despite yourself. Placing your other hand over his, you give him a saccharine smile.

“And I fear your love life is even scarier,” you quip, “considering you and Nanami are disgustingly smitten with each other but refuse to do anything about it.”

Yu groans, yanking his hand back as he slumps into his seat.

You’ve been working with Yu for five years now at a highly accredited education company, officially as tutors but often picking up shifts in the adjoining daycare. He’s been a constant source of fresh air in your life—unrelentingly optimistic, perpetually happy, and the only thing keeping you sane when bratty kids, back-talking teens, and overbearing parents strip away every ounce of your patience.

And for the past two years, a certain someone has been an added incentive to showing up.

Nanami Kento.

Tall, broad, devastatingly handsome. Blonde hair, sharp features, and an air of refined old money. He first enrolled his younger brother, Yuji, in tutoring classes two years ago, exasperated by the boy’s athletic prowess but academic struggles.

Nanami, ever the composed professional, is a bank analyst with little time to spare—especially for schoolwork. But despite his packed schedule, he always makes time to bring Yuji in himself. And, without fail, he always requests Yu as Yuji’s tutor.

Nanami never hovers, never interferes—but he stays. Every time. MacBook open, glasses perched low on his nose, working in the corner while his gaze flickers to Yuji…and, more often than not, lingers on Yu.

They’re not slick.

Yu, for all his confidence, is an absolute mess around Nanami. He stumbles over his words, turns an embarrassing shade of pink, and loses all train of thought. Meanwhile, Nanami remains perfectly composed—save for the occasional, barely-there smirk when Yu flusters himself into silence.

It’s infuriatingly adorable.

But despite their obvious mutual pining, neither of them has made a move. You’ve tried to nudge them along, but they’re both stubborn as hell. They have to get there on their own.

Maybe you should have a little chat with Yuji—

“Hey! Hey!”

Yu waves a hand wildly in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I know that smirk! Stop scheming.” His expression darkens. “And focus—you wanted to talk about your situation, remember? I have, like, five minutes left on my break.”

Right.

You lean back, exhaling slowly. Recounting the sick, twisted ways you’ve gone from having a harmless crush on your thirty-five-year-old neighbor to full-on stalking him is…a lot.

So you clean up the details.

You leave out the part where you wake up at the crack of dawn just to watch him get dressed. Or how you happen to be outside every afternoon when his daughters get home from school, conveniently offering them sweets as if it’s just a coincidence.

Everyone has flaws. Yours just happen to feel entirely justified every time you’re blessed with the sight of Getou Suguru—all six feet of sculpted muscle, dressed in tailored suits and expensive watches, long hair pulled into a tight bun, sharp violet eyes glinting behind sleek glasses.

And if that wasn’t enough, the way he is with his daughters—that obliterates any remaining shred of reason.

On weekends, he’s outside your apartment complex in casual clothes, guiding them along the sidewalk on their little pink tricycles. He smiles at them, warm and genuine, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

He moved in a year ago.

And in eleven months, you’ve lost a lifetime’s worth of dignity and grace thirsting over the DILF next door.

Well—not next door, but close enough. Your balconies face each other.

You discovered this little fact a couple of weeks after he moved in.

It had been a casual meeting at first—one of those neighborly exchanges where introductions are made in passing. You were returning from work, tired but relieved to be home, and he had just finished enrolling his daughters in school. He had held the lobby door open for you, a simple courtesy, saving you from the trouble of buzzing yourself in.

You’d jogged a little to close the distance, not wanting to keep him waiting. As you passed through, you turned to thank him, fully prepared to run off—but he stopped you with a radiant smile.

“Hello, I haven’t had the pleasure of introducing myself yet.” He scratched the back of his neck, letting the door swing shut behind him. “We’re new to the building.”

Then, with a gesture toward the two girls at his side, he continued, “This one’s Nanako,”—the jumpy, golden-haired child practically vibrating with energy—“and this is Mimiko.” The brunette clung to his leg, wary but curious.

“They’re adorable,” you had told them warmly.

“Now, girls, what do we say to the nice lady?”

“Thank you, nice lady!” Nanako chirped.

Mimiko mumbled a soft, “Thanks.”

Getou chuckled, ruffling her hair before leaning down to press a kiss to her crown. “Don’t be shy, honey. It’s okay.”

Mimiko tightened her grip on his leg, holding onto him as though you might whisk her father away if she let go.

As he straightened, a sharp breeze carried the scent of musky sandalwood and lavender from him, teasing your senses in a way that felt almost intimate.

“They’re still a little frazzled from the move,” he admitted in a mock whisper, “Don’t tell, but some nights I’ve been sneaking them candy for dessert—except it’s just melatonin.”

You had giggled at his confession, and his lips had ticked upward at the sound.

“I’m Getou, by the way,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But if I’ll be seeing you often, feel free to call me Suguru—I’m not uptight.”

You’d introduced yourself, mentioning that you were native to the area and worked as a tutor, meaning you were well-versed in the local children’s events. As you spoke, he listened attentively, nodding along to every other word, his eye contact steady. You had to fight every intrusive thought about how distractingly attractive he was—how much you wanted to press your tongue to the line of his jaw, trace the length of his throat.

Not the time. Definitely not the time.

By the time numbers had been exchanged for “neighborly inquiries,” you’d realized you lived on the same floor.

“Well, would you look at that~” He had chuckled, amused by the coincidence.

You’d smiled, bid the girls farewell, and assured Getou he could reach out if he ever needed anything. But the moment you turned away—oh, God. You had to fight the urge to squeal, mouthing a silent oh my God to yourself as you hurried to your apartment, barely processing the fact that an incredibly sexy dad lived just a few doors down.

Then came the accidental discovery.

The first time you caught him dressing in front of his window had been pure chance.

You’d been up early—5 AM, thanks to your turn to let in the clean-up crew for your workplace’s monthly deep clean. Half-awake and desperate for coffee, you had shuffled into your kitchen, only to catch a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision.

And there he was.

Shirtless. Wet.

His long, damp hair fell in dark ribbons down his back, droplets clinging to his skin, catching the dim morning light. He was flipping through a newspaper, one hand resting on his chin, brow furrowed in thought. His serious expression made your brain short-circuit—sending it spiraling into dangerous territory.

A strict professor making you stay after class.

A mean dom forcing you into submission.

A strict boss calling you into his office, locking the door.

You had to physically shake the thoughts away, dragging your gaze back to your coffee like it was a lifeline.

Then he cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and carefully laid a pair of black work pants across his bed, arranging his outfit with meticulous precision. That was when you realized—you had unintentionally learned his morning routine.

And you weren’t proud to admit that you had grown to love it.

Your favorite part? When he stood before the mirror, brushing out his hair.

He always looked so at peace during that ritual—like it was something grounding, something necessary. It was the last thing he did before spritzing on cologne and stepping out for the day.

Now, sitting across from Yu in the breakroom, you finally admit to your… situation.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” Yu asks, frowning. “Or—God forbid—a wife?”

You wave him off. “No way. If he had a wife, she would’ve been mentioned. Even a girlfriend—I would’ve seen her by now.”

Yu cringes. “Right.”

He places both hands flat on the table, inhaling like he is about to deliver some sage wisdom. “You need to do what I do—just keep running into him, talk to him, wear him down until you two become close.”

You give him a look. “So I can be friend-zoned for a year? No, thanks.”

Yu turns up his nose. “So rude. Even when I try to help.” He pushes back his chair dramatically. “I’ll be on my way.”

He stomps off toward the door, only to pause, his bangs brushing against his lashes as he peeks back in.

“But text me later, okay?” he says with a smirk. “We’ll figure something out if we put our heads together.”

You huff a laugh. What a sweet guy. Even your obsessive behavior hasn’t scared him away.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur. You spend the final hour tutoring Sam—a regular who somehow always smells like cheese puffs and leaves everything he touches sticky. When his dad finally picks him up, you all but shove the sign-out sheet toward him, making a beeline for the bathroom to scrub your hands clean.

𓂃۶ৎ

A hot shower is calling your name as you skillfully back into your designated parking space, humming to yourself before stepping out of the car.

The moment your foot hits the pavement, the familiar sound of drunken laughter and hollering echoes through the garage. Of course. Your downstairs neighbors—wasted out of their minds. Again. On a Wednesday.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way toward the exit, only to find yourself in full view of the rowdy group perched on the hood of a sports car parked obnoxiously across multiple spaces. Among them is a guy you’ve seen before—arguing with his then-girlfriend at ungodly hours over god-knows-what. Spiky pink hair, gelled into stiff peaks, paired with a tight white tank top despite the night chill. You’ve never spoken to him, barely spared him a glance, but tonight, for whatever reason, he has something to prove.

“YO! HEY, YO!”

You ignore him, keeping your pace steady.

“Aye, I know you hear me! C’mere real quick!”

Your jaw tightens. You shoot him a glare but don’t stop, closing the distance to the door.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he drawls, clearly reveling in the attention of his friends. “That’s not very neighborly. I just gotta ask you a quick question.”

You exhale sharply, finally turning to face him and his little audience. “What the fuck do you want? You can ask from there.”

He scoffs, spitting onto the pavement. “Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.” He jerks his chin toward one of his friends. “My boy here thinks you look good, wanted to get them digits, but you ain’t even all that to be actin’ like this.”

A dry, humorless laugh escapes you as you prop a hand on your hip. “Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, you’re the one desperate for my attention. Screams ‘bitch’ to me—but go off.”

His friends snicker, their amusement only deepening his scowl. He swings his legs off the hood, standing up with an air of aggression. The moment he takes a step forward, your fingers slip into your bag, wrapping around the familiar cylinder of mace.

Six steps to the door.

His bloodshot eyes, the reek of weed clinging to his clothes—it sends your senses into high alert. If he lunges, you’ll spray him.

“Stuck-up bitch.”

A firm hand presses against the small of your back, guiding you away just as the tension peaks.

You startle, spinning with the mace raised—only to freeze when you find yourself looking up at Getou Suguru.

And he looks pissed.

Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line, the sleeves of his button-up pushed to his elbows like he’s ready to handle this personally.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sukuna?” His voice is low, rough, demanding.

Your grip on the mace loosens as you exhale, the warmth of Getou’s hand steady on your back. You’re not helpless, but dealing with scum like Sukuna? That’s the last thing you want after a long day.

Sukuna’s posture falters for half a second before he scoffs. “Relax, man. Just wanted to talk. No need for the hero act.”

“I’m pretty sure she would’ve handled you herself,” Getou counters coolly. “But I figured I’d remind you that you’re one misdemeanor away from that assault and battery charge becoming a felony. So watch yourself.”

Sukuna’s arrogance wavers. His jaw tightens as he glances at Getou, weighing his options before choosing the safer one—retreating back to his car.

“If I catch you pulling this shit again,” Getou continues, “I’ll personally ensure you get a speedy trial—as is your constitutional right.”

The group piles into the car in tense silence. As the engine roars to life, Getou pulls his hand away from your back like he’s just realized it’s there.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to—” He sighs, shaking his head. “It just pissed me off seeing him try that with you. You don’t deserve that.”

He smiles, but there’s a quiet sadness to it, as if he’s seen too much of this before.

“I don’t think you know this,” he adds, voice softer, “but I run a non-profit for domestic violence survivors. We’ve helped house a few of Sukuna’s former partners. Got them legal support, protection. He’s—” His jaw clenches. “He’s worse than he looks.”

You take in the weight of his words. On one hand, you’re grateful for his work, knowing how important it is. On the other, the thought of Sukuna being a repeat offender makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him, offering a small, genuine smile. “I appreciate you stepping in. Macing him would’ve ruined my whole night—pepper spray’s a bitch to wash out.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from Getou, the tension easing.

“Sure would’ve been a nuisance,” he agrees.

As you walk toward the building together, you steal a glance at him—at the way the moonlight catches in his hair, reflecting off a few stray gray strands. His jawline is sharp in the dim glow, the curve of his cheekbone accentuated in a way that makes your heart stutter. You watch as a calloused finger brushes his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear.

Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you and walks you all the way to your apartment. At your door, he rests a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Be safe,” he says. “And if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to reach out. Okay?”

You nod, feigning composure, but he sees right through it.

He narrows his eyes slightly. “Not good enough. Promise me.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before holding up a pinky. “Alright, alright. I promise.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he hooks his pinky around yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he lets go.

“Good girl.”

The praise haunts you for the rest of the night, looping in your head like a broken record. You spend hours lying awake, spamming Yu with frantic, half-incoherent texts detailing every second of what just happened.

𓂃۶ৎ

The following week, you don’t see him—not in the hall, not in passing. And though you tell yourself you’re being ridiculous, the lack of interaction leaves you feeling… disappointed. You want to text him, but without a real reason, it feels weird. You’re just his neighbor, after all—and at least a decade younger than him.

Still, you catch glimpses of him in the mornings. His routine never changes, but you do notice something new—he’s started drinking tea with his morning newspaper.

You wonder what sparked the change.

Then, on Friday night, your phone buzzes with a notification. A text.

Getou Suguru Hello. This is Suguru, your neighbor. Got any eggs?

You stare at the screen, blinking. That is… certainly an approach.

You: I do! Need me to bring a couple over? I don’t mind.

Getou Suguru: Oh, thank god. Would you? You’re a lifesaver.

You: Yeah, it’s just eggs. I’ll be right over!

You toss your phone onto the counter, glancing down at your loungewear—a silk two-piece pajama set, your favorite. Soft to the touch, effortlessly comfortable. Deciding it’s appropriate enough given the hour, you slip on your slippers, grab the carton of eggs, and head for his door.

Getou’s apartment has a personalized doormat at the entrance, The Getou Family scripted in bold cursive. Cute. You knock lightly, mindful of any sleeping children. A few moments later, footsteps approach, and the door swings open.

And it’s… not what you expect.

Getou stands there, hand on the knob, dressed in a sleek black turtleneck and chocolate-brown cargos—an effortlessly clean-cut look if not for the pink, frilly “Kiss the Cook” apron haphazardly tied around his waist. His long hair is braided loosely over his shoulder, stray strands falling over his forehead, and he looks utterly defeated—his entire body dusted in flour, even in his hair.

You giggle before you can stop yourself.

“Finding humor in my misery, are we?”

You barely manage to stifle your laughter behind your hand as he steps aside, ushering you in.

“Maybe just a little.” You poke at the apron first, smirking. “Well, don’t you look adorable?”

He swats your hand away with a playful huff, taking the eggs from you and leading the way into the kitchen—which is immediately visible. And immediately disastrous.

Flour streaks the counters. Sugar coats one side of the island. Three bowls, filled with dough in various colors, sit among a chaotic spread of every imaginable baking utensil. The only thing not in complete disarray is the rest of the apartment—modern, sleek black decor, perfectly organized, with a wall full of adorable photos of the girls over the years.

You whistle, taking it all in. “My god… what did you do?”

Getou sighs, brushing off flour from his sleeve in a half-hearted attempt to clean himself.

“My buddy Gojo had the girls today. Took them to a science museum, then dinner, and spoiled them, so naturally, they will be too hyped to care about me when they get home.” He gestures vaguely to the mess. “Thought I’d win them back over with homemade cookies since they love sweets. As you can see, I’m not exactly a natural.”

You move to the island, flipping an overturned bag of flour upright, salvaging whatever hasn’t already been sacrificed to the countertop.

“Clearly.”

Getou grabs an egg and cracks it over a bowl of light caramel-colored dough.

“Hey, I can’t be good at everything.”

You squint at his movements, catching the inconsistency in his technique. “Still cocky, huh?”

You peer into the bowl. This is definitely his third attempt at the dough.

“Instead of making another batch, maybe try tasting this one first? Are you even following a recipe?”

He taps sugar-dusted fingers against his chin. “Not exactly. I was going off memory. My mom used to make cookies for me when I was little, but… I may have mixed up a few ingredients.”

Before he can stop you, you dip a finger into the dough and bring it to your mouth.

“Don’t do that!” He wags a flour-covered finger at you, scandalized. “There’s raw egg in there—you’ll get salmonella.”

You grin, unfazed. “It’s just a little taste. And I can tell you’re missing vanilla. The sweetness is off, and it’ll help bind the flavors together.”

His violet eyes widen slightly before lighting up in realization. “Oh, right! Of course! Let me add some!”

Watching him scramble around the kitchen, searching for the vanilla like a deer learning to walk, is nothing short of endearing.

Together, you tweak the recipe—adding a little cinnamon, a sprinkle of nutmeg, some roughly chopped pecans. He lifts a mixing spoon to your lips, and you taste again.

This time? Sweet, only a hint of saltiness, and the nutty pecans bring a rich depth to the dough.

“It’s perfect,” you declare. “We can roll it out now.”

You hadn’t exactly planned for your Friday night to be overtaken by this bumbling, flour-dusted dad, but somehow, you don’t mind. You take turns rolling and flattening the dough before he slides the tray into the oven. Already, you’ve started cleaning—scooping up flour piles, bagging ingredients, restoring order to the battlefield.

“You don’t need to do that,” Getou protests, frowning. “You’ve done enough. Sit down.”

You comply halfway, still gathering loose flour into the bin. He pours you a glass of water and begins wiping down his own mess.

“Where’d you learn how to bake?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a baker,” you say, shrugging. “But working with kids, having treats around helps as a motivator. So I picked up a few simple recipes.”

He nods, impressed, running a damp rag over his flour-streaked shirt. His glasses have slipped down his nose, the lenses smudged from dirty hands.

“Suguru,” you say, deadpan, “go clean yourself up. I’ll finish here.”

He grimaces at the kitchen’s state, then exhales in surrender. “You’re a saint. I’d hate for the girls to see this mess when I’m always nagging them to keep their rooms spotless.” He presses a thumb to his brow. “Turns out, I’m quite the hypocrite.”

You methodically put the kitchen back in order, enjoying the gradual return to cleanliness. By the time Getou re-emerges, the only mess left is on his apron. His hair is pulled up in a loose bun, and he shoots you a wink.

“Right on time.”

As if on cue, the oven alarm dings. He pulls the tray out, setting it on the stove. The scent of buttery, warm sweetness fills the air. You inhale deeply, taking a seat at the barstool beside the counter.

Getou leans down, elbows propped against the surface, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Well, wouldn’t you say we make a per—”

“DADDY!!”

The door slams open, and Nanako barrels inside, launching herself at Getou’s waist.

“Daddy! Daddy! Guess what Satoru got us?!”

Laughing, he lifts her up, ruffling her hair as she clings to his neck. Gojo enters right behind, overloaded with shopping bags, white hair slightly tousled, Cartier shades barely hiding his mischievous blue eyes. Mimiko shuffles in, latched onto his pant leg.

Gojo smirks. “Took them on an all-you-can-grab shopping spree. Fun, right?” He inhales, pausing. “Mm, something smells good—wait. Suguru. Did you actually—” His gaze lands on you, and his smirk sharpens. “Well, well. Who’s this?”

You quickly stand, waving your hands. “Just a neighbor! Suguru needed eggs, and, well…” You gesture vaguely toward the cookies. “I took pity on his baking skills.”

Gojo snorts. “Little did you know, you probably just saved this entire building from being burned down.”

Getou shoves his shoulder. Gojo nearly drops a bag, grinning.

“Hey girls,” he calls, heading down the hall. “Make sure to thank your dad for wearing the special apron I got him! And don’t forget—no kiss, no cookie!”

Nanako gasps, eyes wide. “Oh! Before you go—you have to give Daddy a kiss too! Or no cookie!”

Mimiko nods solemnly. “No kiss, no cookie. Right, Daddy? Or were you lying?”

You laugh at Getou’s panicked expression.

With exaggerated effort, you stretch onto your toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the edge of his jaw.

“There. No lies.”

You grab your cookie and eggs, heading for the door. “Thanks for the treat! Have a good night, guys!”

As you step out, you catch one last glimpse—Getou, frozen, cheeks tinged pink, his jaw still faintly glossed from your kiss.

Munching on your cookie, you grin.

Bless those kids.

𓂃۶ৎ

The next morning, you wake up lazily, blissfully, embarrassingly late—somewhere around noon. A rare luxury. You stretch across your bed, basking in the slow start to the day before slipping into an easy, indulgent routine.

A long, hot shower.

A hearty, homemade brunch.

A carefully curated R&B playlist humming in the background.

You take your time with the little things—styling your hair, finally trying that shower steamer you’ve been saving, relishing a morning that’s just for you. It’s been a while since you’ve allowed yourself to unwind like this, especially since you’ve just started refraining from peeking in on the DILF next door.

Not that you’ve been thinking about him. Not at all.

The sun is bright today, the perfect excuse to go for a walk. Maybe you’ll drop by Yu’s place—figure out how your night will unfold from there. Something lively, hopefully.

Locking up, you head downstairs, offering nods to other tenants as you step outside. And then—

Giggling. Light, carefree, unmistakable.

You don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“Daddy, look! It’s the Cookie Lady!”

“Hi, Cookie Lady!”

You exhale, shaking your head. You vividly remember introducing yourself properly, but kids? Selective memory at its finest.

Sure enough, Nanako and Mimiko are on their pink tricycles, zooming across the pavement while Getou lingers nearby, guiding them like a watchful shadow.

You wave at the girls first, playing along. “Wow, you two are going so fast! Don’t run me over!”

They giggle, swerving dramatically around you as you pretend to stumble back. Behind them, Getou smiles—warm, effortless, like the sun overhead.

You move closer, eyes flicking over him instinctively.

Baggy denim. A beige sweater. A classic dad fit.

Only… the sweater’s losing a battle against the curve of his bicep, the fabric stretching just a little too tightly over muscle. And his arms—the shape of them, the way the fleece clings to his forearms—

You look away fast. Which is no reprieve because now you’re staring into his eyes—deep purple, sunlit flecks of magenta making them shimmer.

His lashes are obnoxiously thick. Prettier than yours, even with volumizing mascara.

Unfair.

“Any disasters for me to clean up today?” you tease, breaking eye contact.

His chuckle is low, warm, easy. His chest shakes lightly. “Not today. Yet. But can I keep you on call just in case?”

You shrug. “I’m around. And honestly? I could never say no to someone with such adorable little girls.”

Getou hums, eyes drifting toward his daughters, who are now engaged in a very serious race down the sidewalk—little hands swatting at each other as they try to throw the other off course.

“Adorable, yes. But don’t let them fool you.” He sighs. “They’re little devils in disguise.”

You laugh. “That’s just the age. They’re curious about everything. Had a kid at work raid my purse once during a session. Looked away for two seconds, and when I turned back, he was wearing a menstrual pad like a hat.”

Getou snorts. Catches himself. Coughs into his fist. “You’re lying.”

“I wish.”

His laughter fades into something softer. Thoughtful. His brows knit slightly.

“…I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but hearing stuff like that—feminine products, girl things—I get anxious. It’s hard, raising two girls alone.”

Your chest tightens at the look on his face. The quiet weight of it.

Without thinking, you reach for his hand.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I’ve worked with kids for years,” you say gently. “And I can spot a good parent a mile away. Even with our limited interactions, Suguru, you are one of the most doting fathers I’ve ever met.”

His fingers tighten around yours. Then his other hand clasps over the top, warm, grounding.

“I appreciate that,” he murmurs. “You’re pretty wise for your age.”

You scoff. “Of course. Women mature years faster than men. Be careful—your girls might surpass you before you know it.”

And then—

A piercing shriek cuts through the air.

“D-Daddy! T-The cat scratched me!”

Both of you snap to attention.

Mimiko is curled up on her bike, terrified, while Nanako sits on the pavement beside her toppled tricycle, clutching her arm. Across from her, a fat black cat hisses, back arched.

Getou is already moving. He scoops Nanako into his arms just as the cat lets out a low, guttural growl. You think you see it pounce, but it’s all a blur. You barely register Getou kicking at the ground near it before you swoop in, lifting Mimiko onto your hip and retreating toward the apartment.

By the time you make it inside, the girls’ tear-streaked faces are devastating.

Getou fumbles with his keys, cursing under his breath.

Nanako—the little mimic—parrots him perfectly.

“Shit, fuck!”

“Shi—crap!” he corrects quickly. “No, no, sweetie, Daddy said a bad word. I was just scared you were hurt.”

Inside, Getou heads straight to the bathroom, setting Nanako on the closed toilet lid while you settle Mimiko on the sink. He wets a rag, voice gentle, soothing.

“Can I see your arm, Nana?”

She nods, sniffling. Brave. Mimiko leans forward, eyes wide as she watches her sister.

Getou is careful. Tender hands. Steady voice. He dabs at the scratch, applies ointment, murmurs reassurances as Nanako flinches. A patient, loving father.

And God help you, but it makes him even more attractive.

Once the bandage is in place, Nanako puffs up proudly.

“See, Mimi? I’m too strong for that old cat!”

Getou lifts her up, but as he does, you notice—his sweater has a tear along the back. The fabric darker, wet.

Blood.

“Hey girls,” you say gently. “Why don’t you go play? I’ll help your dad clean up. You were both so brave.”

They perk up instantly, rushing out with another fit of giggles.

Getou starts to wave you off. “I’m fine, don’t—”

“Suguru,” you deadpan. “The cat sliced through your shirt. Let me clean it up.”

He sighs but relents, settling on the toilet lid.

“How do you keep ending up rescuing me?” he muses. “I thought we had a back-and-forth thing going on.”

You snort, swatting his arm before carefully lifting his shirt, rolling it up so he can hold it in place and inspect the scratch. It’s deep—deeper than you’d expect—so the cat must have been a stray with nails sharp enough to cut like that. Skimming your fingers over the wound, you feel Getou’s breath hitch. You murmur a quiet apology before rewetting the rag and dabbing at the injury to clean it properly.

You’ve seen Getou’s bare back more times than you’d like to admit, but up close like this? It’s a whole other story. And—selfishly—you envy the cat for being the one to leave marks on him instead of you.

His broad shoulders shift under your touch, deltoids flexing with every small wince. His spine curves smoothly, leading to two faint indentations at the small of his back. Back dimples.

You suppress the ridiculous urge to trace them with your fingers.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand—reapplying the ointment before resting your hands lightly on his shoulders.

“I think I’m done,” you say, voice steady despite the very unsteady state of your thoughts. “Your scratches are deeper, though, so I wouldn’t bandage them up just yet. They need to breathe so the skin can heal properly.”

Getou hums, the vibrations buzzing through your palms.

“In that case, I’ll just take this off.” He grips the fabric at the back of his collar, crossing his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head in one smooth motion—something you’ve seen him do a million times before.

But somehow, this time feels entirely different.

And suddenly, you’re questioning whether today is the best day of your life—or the worst, because temptation is sitting right in front of you, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

You poke lightly at the scratch, half out of curiosity, half as an excuse to let your eyes wander. A few scars, pink and raised, wrap around from his ribs. A couple of small, cute moles sit just below his nape.

“—tter.”

You blink. Wait. He was talking?

“Hm?”

Getou chuckles, low and amused. “I said, poking at it like that isn’t gonna help.” His lips curve into something teasing. “Be a sweetheart and kiss it better for me?”

His deep voice lilts, gentle but dripping in lazy, playful seduction.

Heat floods through you instantly.

But you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

Steeling yourself, you swallow down the butterflies flapping violently in your chest and school your expression into something cool, composed.

“I don’t think that’s how healing works,” you muse, smoothing your fingers over his warm shoulder. “But if you insist…”

You lean in, lips parting as you move closer—so close that you can feel his warmth against your mouth. But just as you’re about to press the kiss to his skin, you pause. Then, with deliberate slowness, you pull back, kiss your own palm, and press it firmly against his wound instead.

“I think that’s the best I can do, Suguru,” you say, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t want to get antibiotics all over my lips.”

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard, before huffing out a laugh.

“Clever.”

Then, before you can react, he shifts—adjusting his position so that you’re kneeling between his legs. His arms rest lazily over his thighs, dark eyes watching you with soft amusement.

He pouts.

Pouts.

Which, despite being a fully grown man, still looks unreasonably cute on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Guess we’ll have to make do,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Right here is also acceptable.”

He puckers his lips dramatically, raising a brow, but he doesn’t move closer. Just waits. Daring you.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

Your hands slide up to rest lightly on his knees, and you lean in—slow, deliberate. Your noses brush, and you let your breath fan against his lips, lingering.

“I’ll make it all better,” you murmur.

Then, finally, you press your lips to his—soft, warm, deliberate.

His lips are plush, moving against yours in a slow, languid rhythm. One of his hands lifts to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your jaw, keeping you there just a moment longer before you pull back.

But he doesn’t let go.

“It still hurts,” he says, voice lower, gaze heavier. “Try again.”

You let out a breathless laugh but comply, leaning in again. This time, he meets you halfway, mouth parting slightly as his tongue just barely brushes against your bottom lip. You sigh into him, fingers instinctively threading into his hair—his stupidly soft, midnight-black hair. The loose bun falls apart easily, strands tumbling over his shoulders.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are dark, half-lidded, hungry.

“Again,” he breathes.

But just as he leans in to kiss you—

“Why are you kissing Daddy?”

The two of you jolt apart like you’d been electrocuted.

Your head whips to the side, heart lurching.

Nanako stands in the doorway, arms crossed, staring point-blank at the two of you with the unimpressed authority of a child who has just caught an adult doing something stupid.

Mimiko peeks out from behind her, brows furrowed in confusion.

Getou fumbles for an excuse, visibly panicking, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Kiss the Cook?”

Nanako squints. “But Daddy, there’s no cookies.”

𓂃۶ৎ [Tentative taglist: @mentallyillcore]

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starryal1na · 2 months ago

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─ 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

genre: fluff, sfw

word count: 1.4k

characters: aventurine, sunday, boothill, mr reca, alhaitham, kaveh

notes: those headcanons are coming from my silly little mind so don't take them too seriously (ᵕ—ᴗ—) i tried to write them as canon as possible but it might come off as a bit ooc (especially mr reca since we still don't know much about him...) i personally had lots of fun writing for them since they are my favorites male characters from the games <333

Aventurine 𔘓

kisses you as if it were his last – an emotional kisser – needs to be complimented

If you're at the kissing stage with him, congratulations since he doesn't let just anyone in his life. Let alone sharing such an intimate act. Kissing Aventurine may come across as desperate, dare I say needy. It's a lot since he pours all of his emotions into each press of his lips on yours. You feel everything– his complete devotion to you, his fear of losing you, even his inner battles about whether keeping you in his life is a good idea. Even so, each of his kiss is meaningful. No matter how intense it gets, you cherish the way he allows himself to put his guards down with you.

Since he has low self-esteem, compliment him on how good his lips feel on yours. Whisper sweet words here and there between kisses until his features soften, easing all of his worries. Because he craves validation more than anything, your praise will have his heart melting in no time. Only then will he feel more confident, taking the lead and locking your lips in a passionate heated kiss. He will leave you panting and asking for more <3

Sunday 𔘓

kisses you with the greatest care – your lips are his hyperfixation (he will think about them all day long)

He is kinda shy, not daring initiate a kiss even though he dreams of kissing you over and over again. Ever since your first kiss, Sunday hasn't been able to get enough. He unapologetically stares at your lips when you talk, smile or even eat something, fantasizing about making them swollen from a make out session. All his thoughts shut down as soon as you indulge him, crashing your lips against his. It's like he is on cloud nine, the plush of your lips eager yet delicate.

His lips are soft, the softest you've ever felt. He isn’t particularly fond of tongue kissing so he prefers to give you soft, gentle pecks. However, if he feels confident he will deepen them, his body pressing closer to yours as muffled gasps of delight escapes his mouth. And when he kisses you, it’s as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. He is careful with the way he holds you, as if you might break if he dares to tighten his grip. Speaking of hands, he is always touching you. His personal favorite is keeping one hand on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone while resting the other on your waist guiding you even closer to him <3

Boothill 𔘓

a biter – and a cheeky kisser – loves to cover your face in kisses only to smother your lips over and over again

He is all for heatedly making out with you. It doesn't matter if you're in public or not, he isn't unshamed at all if it means having his pretty lover panting in his robotic arms. He loves to tease you, especially with his sharp pointy teeth. Whenever you're sitting on his lap, breathlessly following the lead Boothill sets for your make out session, he grazes his sharpened teeth over your bottom lip at some point. It's just enough to hurt a little but he knows deep down you like it this way, so why not take advantage of it ?

Aside from the biting, Boothill also loves teasing you by purposely avoiding your lips. In those moments you wish you had the power to complain, but you're left speechless. He is surprisingly soft as he presses his lips against your forehead, eyelids, cheekbones and then all the way down to your chin and neck. He is taking his time with you, cherishing these quiet moments with you since being a Galaxy Ranger is far from being safe. It's when you're looking at him with eyes full of love, of belonging, that he locks your lips into a tender kiss. But, as cheeky as he is, he pulls away only to press another kiss on your lips, this time with more force. Then another, and another, until it turns into quick breath-stealing kisses. It’s endearing though, how utterly adorable he can be when it comes to you and the way he loves you <3

Mr Reca 𔘓

a perfomative kisser – needs the setting to be perfect in order to kiss you – makes comments about the kisses

As a film director, Reca is an expert at building up a romantic kissing moment— and that applies to his love life as well. Whenever he wants to kiss you, it has to be perfectly executed, to the point where he practically writes the script for your kisses beforehand. It might comes across as superficial, but that’s just how he operates. Otherwise he’d be disappointed in himself. The setting must be romantic enough, so he usually takes you to a breathtaking landscape, a luxurious restaurant or carefully arrange your shared space– dimly lit with candles, with soft, romantic music playing in the background. Every detail must align with his vision of the perfect moment.

Kissing him is perfect. As intented. You don't mind that it was planned since you acknowledge his need to be in control of it. He just wants to be good to you. Plus, he knows how to work you up. Tilting your chin up, he compliments you on how gorgeous you look before closing the gap between your lips. The warmth of his lips is so comforting to you, as is the way he holds you. You can't help but roll your eyes when you hear the enthusiastic "magnificient !" comment he manages to blurt out. The only response he gets is you deepening the kiss, determined to shut him up for good <3

Alhaitham 𔘓

lazy kisser – doesn't kiss a lot but when he does he blows your mind – leaves you breathless and acts like nothing happened

He barely takes the initiative himself, unless you’ve been making out for a long time. Alhaitham's lack of action doesn't come from not enjoying it— it's just that he doesn't really think about it. Most of the time, it's you who come to him asking for a kiss. He never denies you the pleasure of having your pretty lips on his but, like I said, you have to work for it. If you don’t, he simply stands there and give you a chaste kiss.

Other times it's just that Alhaitham likes to tease you, purposely reacting slowly until you grow impatient and take matters into your own hands. Alhaitham patiently waits, curious to see how far you want to go with him. You have piqued his interest and that's all you needed, biting then licking his bottom lip before deepening the kiss. Soon enough, he is the one taking control, moving your lips together as he pulls you on his lap and keeps you as close as possible to him. Because yeah, Alhaitham can be very clingy when he wants to. As soon as you're done, he goes right back to his reading, looking completely unaffected (he is not though, he is internally blushing) <3

Kaveh 𔘓

kisses a lot – steals kisses whenever he has the chance to – unapologetic about the amount of kisses he shares with you (he is just a sweetheart okay)

He is the one who, I believe, would kiss you the most out of the others. He takes initiative a lot. Whenever you cross paths, he stops you just to press his lips on yours. Doing the dishes ? A kiss. Doing errands ? He subtly pulls you into a corner to steal one. Getting ready for the day ? One, two, three...... ten kisses before he finally lets you leave the house. You're not complaining, not when it means seeing him all giddy and flustered afterward. And honestly, it’s not like it leaves you indifferent either. So really, it’s a win-win situation.

The roles are reversed when he is overworking himself on a project. Convincing him to take a well-deserved break is tough, but once he does he is rewarded with the softest kisses in the quiet of his study. He sighs contentedly at the mere brush of your lips, as if you’ve just given him the ability to function properly all over again. His work fades from his mind the moment you leave him with shiny, swollen red lips. And if you sneak into his study every now and then to steal more kisses while he works, he doesn’t complain in the least <3

/!\ don't steal, translate or repost this and claim it as you own /!\

#my post ⭑.ᐟ #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #genshin impact x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #sunday x reader #sunday x you #boothill x reader #boothill x you #mr reca x reader #mr reca x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #dividers by enchanthings

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obeythebutler · 5 months ago

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Mammon's voice rings in your ear, clearer than ever.

You can still hear him bickering about his latest scheme—the one you both had butted heads over—and then there was the mutual agreement of not telling Lucifer about its outcome.

Your eyes skim over the text in the screen, mind focused on the words, memory replaying over and over like a tape.

You ignore Barbatos's outstretched hand. And he lets you, not able to find it in himself to remind you, not wanting to interrupt what fleeting moments remain of you in this realm.

"MC," Solomon's voice is a whisper, meant to remind you gently of the situation. "It's time."

"Sorry," You blurt out, quickly closing your D.D.D. before handing it over to Barbatos. You don't look him in the eye when you do that. You fear your heart will crumble.

"Does this have to be?"

The Prince wishes he could refute what he had said earlier, but there is no other way. No other timeline where it does not end. No other timeline where you stay.

Perhaps all the timelines would have only led to once final outcome.

"What if they just stay? They are happy here, and hastening would only lead to future problems." Lucifer attempts to be the voice of reason, but even he knows that it is an exercise in futility. "Can....there be no other way?"

Your knees feel like they might just give out. Impending doom rests heavy in your stomach, clouding every thought, every action.

"I don't want to leave you all," You mutter, voice heavy. If you say the words out loud you're afraid you'll burst into tears. "You took my D.D.D. too, is it truly that bad?"

You feel the pactmarks growing faint.

You have always come back to the Devildom, always—with the knowledge that you would be back—whether by landing on Satan's head or babysitting seven overgrown babies. You have always come back, from the human realm or the past.

So why not now?

"I do not want you to leave, none of us want you to, but there is no other option. No other choice."

Diavolo's words seal your fate.

It wasn't supposed to go this way, it was—it was supposed to be you and everyone else going through each day like usual, not for this sudden news to come crashing down.

You fear you may never see them again.

A blur of purple catches your eye, and your feet try to escape before your mind can register; you're dragged into the portal by Time itself.

It's for the greater good.

Not for even the Prince of Hell or Heavenly beings to decide.

And now, there is only you.

You and a human phone and a human world.

#coping #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me angst

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dirtysvthoughts · 11 months ago

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mafia boss! wonwoo x reader headcanons

tags/warnings: smut, female! reader, reader is shorter than wonwoo, some pwp, some worldbuilding before the smut (you know how i do), pet names (pretty girl, little one, etc.), mentions of love languages, mentions of lingerie, fingering, lots of kissing and making out, mentions of a dinner, apartment sex, kitchen sex into bedroom sex, make sure they wrap it up before you unwrap it! i’m actually highly upset i can’t have wonwoo blow my back out on a regular

author’s note: first of all, HEY BESTIES! i know i’ve been kinda silent, but i’m slowly getting back my will and motivation to write (do NOT take 3 classes during the summer). i’ve been dying to get my thoughts out on this after the lalali mv, and who knows - this may end up as a full length fic sometime soon 👀 let’s get into it!

———

-mafia boss! wonwoo whose gang started off small, and now he runs one of the largest mafia organizations in the country. he’s cunning, smart, sly, intimidating, even ruthless. those under him respect and admire him, from his vice-leader to the newer members. he strikes fear into several and he is not to be taken lightly or crossed. several groups have been eliminated with just a few words from his lips (like he said, he’s a monster).

-then enter you, his lover, whose entire lifestyle is the opposite of the one he leads. you’re just a simple office worker, but you’re fortunate enough to have some extra pleasures, like a lavish apartment and a decent social life. wonwoo has had his share of women and previous relationships, but you were different. you keep him level headed and grounded. your calm demeanor and intelligence are so very, very attractive to him. and of course, your looks and natural beauty were stunning. he’s protective of you and would prefer you rather not get involved in any of his business endeavors.

-even though he insists on not bringing you into his craziness, he wants to help you out and provide for you as much as he can. his acts of service have ranged from his captains running errands for you to even giving you large monetary gifts every few months.

smut under the cut!! minors DO NOT INTERACT FROM HERE!

-good god, sex with mafia boss! wonwoo would go two ways: rough sex with you screaming and begging for mercy or soft sex with you whimpering and moaning his name, telling you to hold your cum in until he says you can release it. either way, his dominance will be asserted.

-has multiple pet names for you, but absolutely loves calling you: “little one,” “princess,” “my darling,” and “pretty girl.”

-mafia boss! wonwoo has an OBSESSION with you in lingerie. he. can’t. get. enough. he’s bought you multiple sets, and of course has his favorites. absolutely loves it when you dress up for him, he will roam his calloused hands up and down your body, kissing your stomach as he toys with the hem of your panties.

-one of your sexual encounters was in his gang’s warehouse (before the group’s weekly meeting, so it was empty). he looked so dashing in his green gucci suit, hair pulled back into a bun - the wetness gushing in your panties making it clear you needed him. when he closes and locks the warehouse garage door, he crashes his lips onto yours while his hands grab your ass. he grunted something about missing you and how he needed to feel your tight cunt around him. at the moment, you’re unable to form words, but you feel the exact same way, all you could think about was him while you were working and the last time he fucked you silly. he walks you over to a table, lips still on yours and his hands now moving to take off your blouse. he tosses the white garment to the side, leaving you in your bra and work pants. once the back of your knees hit the edge of the table, he guides you to lay on top, clearing off everything in your way - objects loudly crashing to the floor. he caresses your face as his right hand works the clasps and the zipper on your pants, fingers slowly trailing inside your panties, and lightly touching your clit from the outside. you can help but bite your lip and moan his name, wonwoo smirking in response and he rubs the pad of his fingers around your part. “think you can finish before junghoon (his vice leader) gets here, little one?”

-another wonderful sexual encounter brought out his soft dom side. he wanted to spend some time with you, so you two set a date where he can come over to your place, have some food, and enjoy your company. on the day of, he rings the doorbell to your apartment, bringing with him a bottle of champagne, dressed in a white mock turtleneck with black pants. when you open the door, a smile appears on his face and you take his hand, leading him through the door. you just put him at ease, and he feels so comfortable around you. “i missed you my darling,” he whispers as he kisses your hand, a blush creeping on your cheeks.

-some time passes after dinner, and the two of you are talking in the kitchen with champagne still in your glasses. as you sit on the counter, wonwoo finishes washing the dishes, thanking you for the meal. you shrug and say it was nothing and you didn’t mind, but wonwoo insists that it was something more. “i know i don’t say this a lot, but i want to let you know that i do love you, and you mean a lot to me.” your heart melts at his words and you give wonwoo a hug as he comes back to your side. “i love you too, baby,” you whisper. a few moments later, you delicately press your lips on his, and he seals the deal. your tongues dance together as you continue to kiss, this time your hands are the first to move and they tug at the hem of his turtleneck, pulling it up to reveal some of his abs. he helps you out as his shirt goes higher, and it’s quickly tossed to the other side of the room. he returns the favor by taking off your crop top, revealing the bra that beautifully accentuates your breasts. he licks his lips as he kisses your neck, his hands moving slowly up your thighs. “w-wonwoo,” you whine, “i need you!” “i know, darling, i know,” he responds. “you’ll have everything you want and more tonight.” he carries you bridal style to your bedroom, lips still locked together as gently tosses you onto the bed.

-you’re pretty sure by now your neighbors can hear you moan for your partner, but you could care less right now - wonwoo was thrusting into so deliciously that you body pinged with each movement. he knew your body and he knew how to please you, and tonight he wanted to make sure just how much you meant to him. filthy phrases leave his mouth, calling you his baby girl, how perfect your pussy was for him, and all he wanted was to see your legs covered in his juices. you grasp onto your hotel-like white sheets, your face contorting as his deep voice and dick send you over the edge when he hits your spot and releases his load in you. you breathe heavily as you come too, saying his name over and over as if it was the only thing you knew.

“i love you little one,” he kisses your cheek as he pulls out, embracing you as you cuddle up to his side.

“mmm, i love you too.”

#svthub #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo imagine #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fics #wonwoo scenarios

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the-teufort-nine · 4 months ago

Note

may i rq a scenario with any of the mercs where they find reader injured when respawn's down. maybe bc of an accident or an ambush. i like angst as long as its ok in the end

HOLY SAXTON HALE ANON THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME!

This isn't explicitly romantic, but you could definitely interpret it as being romantic if you want! You're def the team's fave <3

Anyways, enjoy about 8400 words of hurt/comfort goodness and the Blu team being pathetic lil meow meow when they think you're dead dead.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort | SFW | Cw: starvation, temp character death, excess drinking, animal death ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here!

Scenario: During the last few moments of a match, Blu team's Respawn Machine suddenly malfunctions, with you inside! Left reeling by the loss of their Chemist, the team attempts to cope. A week later, Miss Pauling receives a most unexpected phone call...

There had been no warning.

If there had been, then the sharp eyes of RED and BLU’s Engineers would have certainly caught it. Unfortunately, the Respawn Machine had been just as reliable as ever for the entire match, bringing the mercenaries back from the great beyond time and time again, just as it had been designed to do.

Scout and Soldier had just been revived when it happened; the two men taking a moment to shake off the inevitable rush of nausea that came from going through the unholy machine. An Ubercharged Heavy had taken both them and their teammate, Y/N, known officially as the Chemist, out as the hulking giant made a final push to capture one of their points, and both BLU men knew it was only a matter of time before they heard the biting voice of the Administrator informing them of their failure.

Scout scuffed his sneaker against the concrete floor of the Respawn Room as Soldier launched into a furious rant, leaning against the wall as he waited for Y/N to come through, knowing that they'd been killed only a moment after him. He sighed when felt the gentle pulse of the machine as it vibrated like a speaker, getting ready to return his friend to the world of the living.

SKREEEEEECHHHH- BOOM!

A blast of hot air sent the two men crashing into the wall, stunning them momentarily. It was Soldier who regained his wits first, the BLU quickly pushing up his helmet and looking back at the source of the damage in shock and mounting horror.

“Aeughhhh… what da hell just happened?” Scout moaned, one of his hands rubbing against his throbbing forehead. He blinked, his blurred vision slowly clearing, and as he regained his sight, his eyes began to widen.

Respawn was on fire.

Flames licked hungrily at the walls as they spread out further from the Respawn Machine, with the contraption itself bathed in white and blue hues, the intense heat making quick work of what hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. Shards of complex metals and pools of gleaming Australium were littered all over the room, reflecting the light of the fire.

“HOLY CRAP!” Scout yelped, adrenaline coursing through his body as he attempted to scramble up off the floor.

His voice jolted Soldier out of his shocked state, and he shot a hand out to grab the back of Scout's shirt and yank him along as he made for the door.

“Emergency! Cease fighting immediately!” The Administrator's voice boomed out over the battlefield, the old woman's voice sounding more shocked than stern for once.

Scout finally found his footing as he pulled out of Soldier's grip, spinning around to stare at the encroaching flames. Fear roiled in his gut like an angry serpent as his disoriented mind finally allowed the reality of their situation to sink in. Respawn was gone.

Death was permanent once again.

“Private, this is no time to be standing around! We need to go!”

They could die. For real.

“Scout!”

If they'd come through only a moment earlier, they wouldn't have come back at all.

Wait…

“Solly, where's Chem?”

Soldier paused in his attempt to drag Scout down the hall, his gaze snapping back towards Respawn. He hadn't seen them when he'd grabbed Scout, too focused on getting away from the rapidly approaching fire, but he'd assumed that they were right behind him.

“They probably snuck past us! They're sneaky like that.” he replied. That had to be it! Otherwise that would mean they…

Scout looked down the hall, searching for any sign of the Chemist, before looking back towards Respawn, his face paling. He jerked forward, sprinting towards the blaze.

“Chem! Chem, hang on!” Scout yelled, reaching the doorway in only a few seconds, his eyes desperately searching for where his friend could possibly be.

The room was as empty as it had seemed before. There was no trace of the Chemist, alive or dead, to be found in the room.

They hadn't made it through.

“What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on here?!”

Scout wrenched himself away from the door as he heard his teammates gasp behind him. Engineer was up by his side in an instant, his mechanical hand gripping the doorframe so hard it cracked the material. He pushed his goggles up, and Scout could see real fear in the other's eyes.

“Vhat zhe hell happened? Zhe Respavn Machine vas fine only moments ago vhen I came through!” Medic said, pausing as he looked at Scout, who was trembling. Gently, the doctor led the young man away from the fire, “Scout? Are you alright? Vere you injured?”

“Chem’s gone.” was Scout's quiet reply.

“Vhat?”

“They was suppose’ta come through after me ‘n Solly, but Respawn went up in flames before they could come through.” the runner's voice was shaky and hollow, and he leaned more of his weight against Medic as his legs started to feel less dependable than usual, “They're gone. Like, gone gone.”

The gathered mercenaries went quiet, the only sounds being that of the crackling flames and Scout and Soldier's laboured breathing.

“DAMN IT!” Engineer bellowed, throwing his hard hat onto the ground, “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

Medic closed his eyes, bringing a gloved hand up to his face as a wave of grief crashed down on him. He'd been rather fond of their newest teammate, glad to have someone around who was as interested in risky experiments as he was. The Chemist had often taken up many of the smaller, more neglected duties around the base, such as cooking proper meals and making sure that Medic's less used medical supplies stayed topped up, in case of emergencies. They'd also been of great help in wrangling some of his more… problematic patients, using their charms (or stealth) to herd them into the Medbay for check ups or shots.

He watched them die every day, but this was different. This was permanent. The machine he and Engineer had worked so hard to build, the one that had allowed them to cheat death time and time again, had finally taken its pound of flesh. Y/N had been taken from them, from him, before he'd been ready to let them go.

Now, this usually wouldn't have been a problem; committing sins against both God and nature was something he did quite often and with great delight, and he was sure he could wrest Y/N back from the afterlife, provided that he had access to their body.

And therein lay the problem. There was no body. Respawn hadn't even spat them out half formed or thrown them into the flames, it had simply not reconstructed them. Whatever remained of the Chemist was likely nothing more than a partially formed mist of human remains that had burned up almost instantaneously.

The tenth class was no more, and there was nothing Medic could do.

“Aw, hell,” Engineer gritted out finally, looking back at his teammates with a tired, beatdown expression, “Christ, someone go ‘n track down a fire extinguisher. If we don't get this under control soon, we'll all end up dead.”

Seeing an opportunity to both flee the horrific scene and be useful, Scout ran off like a bat out of Hell, skidding around a corner and disappearing from sight. Soldier, who was being uncharacteristically quiet and still, made to follow him, but Engineer stopped him before he could take more than a few steps.

“Hold on, pardner. I need you to round everyone up and let ‘em know what- what happened.” the southerner swallowed hard, trying his best to push down his emotions for the time being, “The last thing we need right now is to lose someone else because someone did somthin’ stupid and got themselves killed.”

Soldier thought of how often Demo tested his equipment after their daily battles, especially after a loss, and stopped only long enough to give Engineer a salute before rushing off, determined not to lose any more teammates.

“Gott, vhat a mess.” Medic whispered hoarsely, mentally preparing himself for the utter shit show that was inevitably coming their way. The Chemist had been a friend to all of them, even to Spy, who pretended that he didn't care, and losing them was going to be hard on everyone.

Personal loss wasn't something the mercenaries were used to, lulled into a sense of security, of immortality, by the Respawn Machine. After all, why be afraid of death when you knew that you would be back in what felt like only an instant? None of them ever considered that Respawn might fail one day.

“C’mon, Doc. We can't stay here.” Engineer said, leading his co-worker-turned-friend away from the fire.

“Ack!”

You yelped as you tumbled face first out of Respawn, hitting the floor hard and fast. You hissed in pain, pushing yourself up and rubbing a hand over your aching face. Instinctively, you check over the various vials of chemicals you have strapped to your person, praying that your odd tumble hasn't resulted in anything breaking.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you determine nothing to be out of place or wrecked. You pulled yourself to your feet, stretching and cracking your knuckles. Christ, the RED Heavy must have gotten you good that time, because you felt just awful. Exhaustion made you slouch slightly, and your stomach ached something fierce.

After bracing yourself for the inevitable screech of the Administrator's voice telling you that you had failed, you allowed your eyes to fall open, expecting to see Scout and Soldier's sour faces.

An unfamiliar room greeted you, wooden planks replacing the expected concrete. Dust lingered around the space, and your only company was a chittering raccoon, which startled and ran off upon seeing you.

What the fuck was going on?

“Hell-o?” you called, confusing coloring your tone, “Scout? Soldier? Anyone?”

Silence greeted you. Not even the sound of gunfire and shouting could be heard, only the sound of a fierce wind blowing outside.

Thoroughly confused and more than a little creeped out, you stepped out of Respawn, head constantly swiveling about as you called for your teammates. However, no matter how much you yelled, no one ever responded. No matter how much you searched, you couldn't find anyone. No matter how much you listened, not a soul could be heard.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” you chanted, rubbing your arms. It was so cold here, and your outfit was designed for the New Mexico heat.

Your breaths came in steamy puffs, and you could feel goosebumps prickling along your arms as you made your way towards what you hoped was the Intel Room. Whatever it was that was going on, you were too tired and too sore to try and puzzle it out. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, you were going to kill whoever was responsible, because the last thing you wanted to deal with after such a rough day was this creepy bullshit.

Finally, after a solid hour of getting lost within this bizarre, wintery base, you managed to find the Intel Room. A phone, blue in colour, sat mounted on the wall only a few feet away. Wasting no time, you dialed the number Miss Pauling had given you to use if there was ever an emergency, or if Engineer and Medic started spending too much time together again. (The last time they'd gone unchecked for too long, the base had become overrun by something they called Spycrabs. It took weeks for you and your team to get rid of them, though you were fairly certain both Spy and Pyro had managed to hide one to keep as a pet.)

“Aperture Bakery, where the cake definitely isn't a lie! This is Tammy speaking, how can I help you?” an obviously fake cheery voice greeted you after only two rings, and you smiled slightly.

“Jesus, Pauling, I think that's your worst ‘wrong number’ persona yet.” you groused, no real venom in your voice.

“...Y/N?” Miss Pauling’s voice suddenly became very soft and disbelieving, something you'd never heard it do.

You frowned, your brow furrowing. “Yeah, that's me, last I checked. I thought you were supposed to call me Chemist, though?”

“Holy shit, you're alive?!” she shouted, the volume causing you to pull back slightly, “How are you alive?!”

“Uhhhhh,” you stammered, completely at a loss as to how you were supposed to respond, “I… I breathe? And eat? And sleep? Jeez, Pauling, I don't know what you want from me here.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, one that lasted so long, you began to worry Miss Pauling had hung up on you.

“Hello?” you tried.

“Oh! Shoot, sorry, I'm still here! I just-” there was a sound like papers being moved, “Chemist, what is the last thing you remember?”

“Losing the point and getting shot to pieces, why?” Was this a test? Had you already failed somehow?

“Right, yeah, okay that makes sense.” Miss Pauling took a deep breath, and you shifted uncomfortably, sensing that something was wrong.

“Chemist, Y/N, you've been declared dead for just over a week now.”

The phone slipped from your grasp, and it was only years worth of training and quick reflexes that kept it from smashing into the wall. You gripped the phone right, pressing it tightly into your ear as you spoke. “I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right, Miss Pauling. Would you mind repeating that?”

“You were dead, Chemist. Something happened to BLU’s Respawn Machine, and it was completely destroyed before you could come back. I- I don't know how or why it took so long for you to come back this time, but I'm so glad you did.”

You all but collapsed onto the wall, your free hand tangling itself in your hair. You'd died? Like, died for real? The thought made your stomach turn, and you had to suppress the urge to vomit.

“Pauling, Christ, I-” you swallowed, breathing in through your nose, “Is everyone else okay? Oh God, please tell me no one else… died.”

“No, no, no! Everyone's- well they're not fine, but they're all alive. The Administrator called for an emergency ceasefire the minute she saw what happened, and both teams got the message pretty quickly that something was wrong. The ceasefire is still in effect, since everyone needs to be relocated to one of the other base locations.” Miss Pauling replied.

You audibly sighed in relief, tension leaving your body as you uttered a soft ‘Oh, thank God.’ “I think that's where I ended up. One of the other bases, I mean. It's fucking freezing here, Pauly.”

“Shit, you're that far out?” Miss Pauling sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Okay, just- just stay put, alright? There's not going to be any supplies there, so just fine somewhere warm and try not to move too much. I'm going to come get you, okay?”

“Okay.” you replied, smiling slightly as you heard her immediately begin to gather various items on her desk, “Thank you, Miss Pauling. I know you're busy.”

“I'm never too busy for my mercenaries, especially when they manage to defy all logic and cheat death more than they usually do.” a warm, fuzzy feeling settled in your chest at her words, and it remained even after you hung up. There was something so viscerally pleasing about being wanted, about having someone care for you.

Worn out from your return to the living world, you peeled yourself away from the wall and wandered around the base a bit, before locating what had to be the common room. A couch and a few chairs were tucked in around an unlit fireplace. There wasn't anything around to burn, and you didn't feel up to going out to find something suitable, so you chose instead to simply curl up on the couch. Once you laid down, it was as if all of your strength left your body. The aches and pains that plagued you became more apparent, and your stomach growled and gurgled loudly. You were starving, but as Miss Pauling had said, there was no food at the base, and you certainly weren't going to be able to hunt any animals that might be scuttling around.

Resigning yourself to a fitful sleep and an empty stomach, you closed your eyes and pressed yourself in closer to the back of the couch, slowly drifting off into a light slumber.

The BLU base had never been so quiet. It was not a calm quiet, like one might find if they walked into a library, or in a room full of people simply enjoying each other's company while they entertained themselves, but rather a tense, unnatural quiet. A mercenary base with nine men living in it should have been full of noise and movement, but each member of the BLU team seemed more than happy to break away from the norm today.

Engineer was holed up in his workshop, pouring over blueprints, both new and old, determined to find some flaw, some imperfection, some failure, that could give him an answer as to why the Respawn Machine had gone up in flames. He needed to find the problem so that he could fix it. He couldn't leave things as they were; everyone, even the RED team, once they'd found out what had happened, felt unsafe going through any of the Respawn Machines, since no one knew what exactly had gone wrong.

Medic was working himself to exhaustion right alongside him, while also fretting over packing up his birds and equipment on such short notice. They weren't due to rotate out to another base for another month, but the accident had pushed the timeline up to a few days. What's more is that he needed to review the applications for a new Chemist, though he'd been putting that particular task off for as long as possible. He'd never once needed to replace a teammate, nor had he ever expected to. The process of both finding someone who was Respawn compatible and willing to fight and die everyday was an arduous one indeed, and Medic could feel a stress induced migraine begin to come on whenever he even glanced at the paperwork.

Heavy had been trying his best to help Medic prepare for the move, but he, like everyone else, was feeling the effects of their friend's sudden death. He kept expecting to hear their voice coming from the kitchen, or to see them waltz through a door with some manner of bubbling condition held in their arms. Often, he caught himself setting out the supplies for two sandviches, only realizing his mistake when he had plated the food.

Pyro had firmly planted themselves in the Chemist's room, taking special, delicate care to pack up their things into neat little boxes. When Medic had gently floated the idea of reusing their supplies for the next Chemist, Pyro had chased the doctor around the base with their fire axe. There were drawings of the two of them taped carefully to the wall, gifted to the Chemist by the resident firebug, and Pyro left them for last, wanting to keep pretending that they were simply packing up to move like the rest of them. When they'd nearly finished, Pyro noticed that the Chemist's uniforms, which had been folded up on their friend's bed, had mysteriously disappeared. They'd panicked for a moment, before the faint smell of cigarette smoke filtered through their mask.

Sure enough, the clothes were returned the following morning, freshly washed, dried, and without any wrinkles. Any and all holes or rips had been carefully hand stitched with expert precision. There was also a single rose lovingly tucked into one of the pockets on the outfit the Chemist wore most frequently.

Demo could often be found in the company of Soldier, sitting out on some roof or bridge, nursing his tenth or so bottle. Soldier didn't drink nearly as much, but when he inevitably did get drunk, only he and Demo knew about the few tears that would slip down his cheek. Neither acknowledged it, nor the sinking fear of having to inevitably go through Respawn again that sat like lead bullets in their guts.

Scout ran to ignore that same sense of fear and loss, to push it down into the deepest parts of himself. He ran from sunrise to sunset, pausing only when he absolutely needed to. Sometimes, when he would stop, panting and sweating and one small breeze away from toppling over, if he was in just the right spot at just the right time, he'd catch a glimpse of Sniper, tucked away on some far off cliffside or peering down from a tall, rickety building. The marksman hadn't been seen in the base proper since the accident, but he was always around somewhere, watching day and night to ensure nothing happened to his remaining teammates during the ceasefire.

So it was no wonder that it was him who first spotted a frantic looking Miss Pauling as she parked her scooter and dashed off towards one of the base entrances.

Curious, Sniper pushed himself up out of his hiding place, ignored the burning sensation that rippled through his taunt, stiff muscles, and started to make his way down to the base. He didn't make any attempt to soften his footsteps, but he also didn't call any attention to himself. The dark haired woman had been heading for Engineer's workshop, so that's where Sniper went.

Just before he could reach the door that led to the workshop, he collided with someone coming down the hall. He let out a quiet ‘oof’ and stumbled back, baring his teeth instinctively when he saw an expensive suit and steely blue eyes. He calmed, however, when he saw that this Spy was dressed in his team's colours

“Bushman.” came Spy's snide greeting. The Frenchman eyed Sniper up and down, “You look like shit.”

“I could say the same for you, mate.” Sniper sneered back, and he really could have.

There were heavy bags around Spy's eyes, and he smelled as though he'd been absolutely chewing through his expensive, imported cigarettes. Clearly, the man had been coping just as well as Sniper had.

“I'm shocked to see zhat you are no longer wallowing in your mobile hovel, or rolling around in zhe dirt, or whatever it is that you've been doing zhese days.” Spy raised a brow, “What has brought you back to zhis cheap imitation of civilization?”

Now, normally, this would be the point in their conversation where Sniper would tell Spy to not-so-kindly fuck off, but the Australian was running on coffee and will, and Spy was good at getting information. If Miss Pauling’s sudden appearance was supposed to be a secret, then Spy would be Sniper’s first choice for a partner in crime.

“Miss Pauling just showed up lookin’ real frazzled, and I want to know why. I didn't get any alerts or messages, did you?” Sniper asked.

Spy pursed his lips. “Non, I did not.”

Both men's gazes flicked towards the workshop door, and before either could contemplate if this was a good idea or not, Spy had cloaked and Sniper was pushing the door open slowly. A conversation came into earshot as the door opened silently.

“Engie! Thank God you're here!”

“Miss Pauling? What are you doin’ here?”

“There's no time, I need to borrow your truck!”

“Whu- mah truck? What for?”

“Listen, I need to get up North. Fast. And my scooter isn't going to cut it for this trip. Also, I think I might need that emergency dispenser you guys built a while back.”

Sniper's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Miss Pauling did many things to people, but healing them wasn't something he'd ever heard of her doing.

“Well, now, see that there dispenser is still a prototype. It ain't ready for fieldwork yet- HEY!”

“Sorry Engie! Look, I promise I will bring the truck and the dispenser back, but I really need to get going! If this works, I'll bring back something that will make up for all of this.”

“And just what the hell would that be?!”

“Your Chemist!”

Sniper jolted, his body moving faster than his mind, which was still struggling to understand what he'd just heard. He gripped the guardrails that overlooked the lower floor, arriving just in time to see Miss Pauling putting the pedal to the metal and hauling ass out of the workshop in Engineer's truck. Engineer himself was standing stock still on the workshop floor, hand still raised mid gesture.

A set of hands suddenly grabbed Sniper by the shoulders and spun him around. Spy was staring at him, eyes alight in a way Sniper hadn't seen in a long time.

“Bushman, you can fit at least four people in your disgusting van, yes?” the man asked, squeezing harder when Sniper's mouth failed to make words come out, “Well?!”

“Eh- ur- yeah mate, that's right.” Sniper nodded finally, still reeling from the idea that Chemist might still be alive, “What's it to ya, Spook?”

“Gather up Soldier, Heavy, and Demo. I will take Medic, Scout, Pyro and Engineer in my car. We need to get going immediately if we want any chance of catching up to Miss Pauling!” he exclaimed.

Sniper's eyes widened as he understood what Spy was saying. The Frenchman wanted to follow Miss Pauling, to see their supposedly not dead teammate for himself, and he knew the rest of them well enough to know that if they didn't take them along, then the others would find their own way to them. That, or they'd simply destroy the base if left alone for too long, and Sniper was willing to bet that Spy didn't want to risk Pyro or Soldier destroying his precious suit collection.

‘Still,’ Sniper mused, ‘It’s nice to see that Spook cares about our feelings, even if it is mostly for ‘is benefit.’

“Right, I'll go round up the boys. You focus on snapp’n Engie outta his stupor, yeah?” Sniper agreed.

Spy nodded, and the two separated, with Sniper wasting no time in flying back down the hall. Obsessively stalking- er, observing everyone over the course of the week had granted him a decent understanding of where they chose to spend their time while in mourning.

Heavy and Medic were up first, and Sniper knew exactly where they'd be. With a swift kick, he burst into the Medbay, startling both the pair and all of the birds.

“Augh! Herr Sniper, vhat do you think you're doing, barging in here like-” Medic started, but Sniper cut him off.

“Can it, Doc! Pauling was just ‘ere, and she says Y/N is alive!” Sniper exclaimed. The other two men's eyes widened, and Medic almost dropped the glass beaker he was holding. “She sped off a moment ago, and we're gonna follow ‘er. Spy's taking you, Scooter, Engie and Py in ‘is car, while I'm takin’ the rest.”

The dynamic duo shook off their shock and nodded.

“Heavy will grab Soldier and Demolitions. Leetle Sniper will find Pyro in their room.” Heavy paused, then fixed Sniper with a stern look. “Be very careful how you tell news. Fire starter has… not been taking loss well. May attack, if they think you are playing joke.”

Sniper gulped quietly. “Think we should hold off on tellin’ them why we're really leaving?”

Medic shook his head quickly. “Nien. Zhough it is not alvays apparent, Pyro is quite intelligent. Lying to zhem about zhis will not end well for any of us.”

The marksman winced, remembering the feeling of fire blasting across his skin. “Too right. Okay, I'll handle Pyro, and Heavy’s gettin’ the drunk bastards. Hopefully they can sober up a bit, because I do not want those two sicking up in my van.”

Suddenly, a thought came to him.

“Oh, and bring yer Medigun. Miss Pauling mentioned something about need’n the emergency dispenser, but Engie didn't seem too confident that it would work.”

Medic's face crumpled up in distress. “And he shouldn't be! Zhat machine is just as likely to kill both zhe Chemist and Frauline Pauling as it is to heal zhem.”

“Shit.” Sniper swore, “We better be quick, then.”

The three men scattered, each one going in a different direction. Sniper hauled ass towards the barracks, eyes flicking to the different class symbols that marked each of the doors. He had only ever been here once, but picking out the little blue and yellow picture of a bubbling vial was easy enough.

He skidded to a stop before the door, taking a second to rap his knuckles against the wood before pushing the door open.

Pyro was where Heavy had said they would be, sitting on their friend's neatly made bed, their stuffed Balloonicorn clasped tightly in their grip as they rocked slightly. Pyro tilted their head at Sniper, communicating their confusion at the man's sudden appearance.

“C’mon, matchstick. We gotta get going right quick now.” Sniper panted, motioning for Pyro to follow, “Miss Pauling was just here, and she seems pretty damn convinced that our Chemist isn't as dead as we all thought.”

Pyro stilled on the bed, their masked face staring right into Sniper's soul. The Australian licked his chapped lips, feeling a sense of unease creep across the nape of his neck. After a moment of relative silence, Pyro seemed to find no deception in his words, and quickly leapt up, pausing only to grab their axe and holster it on their back.

“Huddah huddah huddah!” They yelled, voice muffled by the mask. A thick rubber glove suddenly gripped Sniper's vest, and the marksman found himself getting dragged along towards an exit.

Barely able to keep up with Pyro’s quick stride, Sniper stumbled a bit, all but crashing into the firebug when the large door before them slid open.

“Let's go, let's go, let's go!” Scout's voice carried across the desert base as the young man practically flew towards the workshop, clearly having been told the news, “Py, Snipes, let's friggin hustle! We got places to be, ya bunch a slowasses!”

“Piss off, ya bloody roadrunner! We're goin’ as fast as we can!” Sniper shot back, no real venom in his voice. He knew that Scout had been hit hard by the loss of their teammate, especially since he and Soldier had been the last ones to see them. The kid was more sensitive then the rest of them, especially when it came to someone he cared about dying

Scout slowed ever so slightly, just enough to grab ahold of Pyro's hand. The runner and the arsonist took off together to where Spy was waiting, and Sniper deviated off towards his van.

Heavy was already waiting for him when he arrived, the hulking giant holding both Soldier and Demo over his shoulders. The two had clearly had more to drink than usual, because neither of them were conscious. Sniper contemplated waking them for a moment; this was important after all, and he knew neither man would want to be left out of the loop.

And then he considered how completely insufferable the duo would be if they were awake, and he simply nodded towards the back of the van as he moved to sit in the driver's seat.

Heavy joined him a few moments later, and they were off, speeding down a dusty New Mexico road. Spy's expensive, gleaming vehicle was tearing down the same road as them, the light of the gradually setting sun bouncing off the well maintained blue paint job. He'd told Sniper the name once, while also threatening to gut the marksman if he so much as stepped near the vehicle, but Sniper couldn't be bothered to memorize it.

Sniper had thought that Spy wouldn't ever dare go as fast as he was now, what with all the potholes and tumbleweeds around that could potentially damage the Frenchman's precious ride, but perhaps he'd underestimated how much losing the Chemist had weighed on their most elusive teammate. Spy, for all his aloofness, did occasionally let slip the fact that he actually liked his teammates. Sometimes. Rarely. And usually in some strange, hard to interpret way.

He saw Scout's head pop out of one of the backseat windows, and the lad raised a hand to shield his eyes, like he was trying to see something in the distance. He must have spotted something other than desert, because he pointed towards an upcoming side road before popping back inside.

Sure enough, the car skidded around the corner, and Sniper followed, squinting his own eyes in an attempt to see what Scout had been pointing at.

Tire tracks marred the road, ones that hadn't been caused by Spy's quick turn, but that were also very recent. Sniper grinned and pressed harder on the gas, accelerating until he was only a few feet behind the other vehicle.

He'd never had a target escape before, and Miss Pauling wasn't about to make him break that streak.

Cold.

You were so cold.

You'd awoken to the sound of your teeth chattering, the sound only made worse when another wave of ripples inevitably wracked your prone form. Each breath came as a gasping wheeze, catching on the film of phlegm that had made a home in your throat and chest. Your stomach felt almost alive in your guts, spitting acid on your sensitive middle as it growled and snarled and roared for food that you couldn't give it.

You tried to get up, but your body began to shake and wobble dangerously as you began putting pressure on your forearm. Apparently, all your energy had been diverted to shivering in a, perhaps futile, attempt to keep your internal organs from freezing over. Breathing out a puff of warm air, you slid your hands over your chest and stomach, eyes widening as you realized that something was deeply, deeply wrong.

Gone was your well earned muscles and insulating body fat. You felt dangerously thin, like a starved greyhound. Whatever dark magic and science pulled you back from death had seemingly lost most of your fat and muscle reserves in the process. Truly, it was a miracle that you'd been able to walk at all!

You were in a bad spot, and you weren't sure Respawn would be able to save you again, should the worst happen. After all, no merc had ever starved to death before, and you had no idea what would happen if you did.

‘That’s not going to happen.’ You tried to reassure yourself, ‘Pauling will come to get me.’

How long had you been asleep? It hadn't felt like long, but there were no windows in this common room, and it wasn't as though you could rely on your stomach to tell you that a great deal of time had passed.

With little else to do, you lay your head back down on the cold couch cushions, attempting to curl up closer to the plush, velvety fabric. You tucked your arms into your armpits and folded your knees up close to your chest as you shivered once again. You'd lost feeling in your toes and fingers, but you could still, with great difficulty, wiggle them, which you counted as a win. Your eyes slipped shut as you turned your face down towards your chest, nose buried in the fabric of your uniform in a desperate attempt to seek out any scrap of warmth.

Sleep came easy enough, but it was far from a peaceful rest. Nightmares of endless darkness and being reborn wrong plagued your mind. You woke frequently, but exhaustion dragged you back into unconsciousness just as quickly. Each time you awoke, you were reminded of just how hungry you were, and the urge to gnaw at your own dangerously thin arms grew in intensity. Thirst plagued you as well, and each time your failing mind allowed it, you licked desperately at the inside of your mouth, trying to acquire some moisture for your sandpaper-esque throat.

On your next return to the waking world, as you stared out towards the door that led to the hallway, contemplating drinking one of your fatal mixtures, if only to end your suffering and quicken your return to Respawn, a sound echoed out into the lonely building. You lifted your head, blearily squinting towards the door. Had that been real? Or simply an illusion, a trick crafted by your starved brain?

“Chem? Chem, can you hear me?!”

Miss Pauling.

She did come for you!

You grinned, the action pulling at your chapped lips. You tried to call out, but all you managed was a slight cough. Huffing, you flopped your head back down, eyes locked on the door. You knew that she knew where the phone was in this place; there was no way someone like Miss Pauling didn’t know the ins and outs of every place her mercs set up shop in, so it was only a matter of time before she found you.

Sure enough, after a few minutes passed you began to hear footsteps pounding down the hall. It wasn’t the heavy, familiar footfalls of your team, but rather a lighter, quieter sound. A blurry purple figure entered your field of vision, and after your eyes finally focused, you saw a disheveled, red-cheeked Miss Pauling standing before you.

“Hey there, stranger.” You rasped, wincing slightly when you felt hands suddenly cup your cheeks. Pauling’s hands were warm and slightly calloused, and you blinked slowly, leaning into her touch.

“Jesus Christ, Chem. You never do anything by halves, huh?” Pauling laughed, though the noise came out more like a sob.

“Can't. I wouldn't be a very good Chemist if I did, right?” You joked softly, your eyelids drooping slowly as you began to relax, “Things’d be spillin’ all over the place.”

“Woah, hey!” A series of quick, rapid taps against your cheeks made you open your eyes again, “Stay awake, okay? You're in rough shape, but I brought- well, stole but that's really not important- Engie's truck and his little mini dispenser thing-”

“You stole Engie’s truck?” You interrupted, voice tinged with a sense of horrified awe, “He's gonna kill you.”

The raven haired woman gave you a half smile as she reached an arm under you, pulling you up to your feet to stand beside her. Your vision swam, and you had to lean heavily into her.

“I think bringing you back will soften him up a bit.” She said, looping your arm around her shoulders, “Come on, let's get you to the truck. You look like you're about to pass out.”

“I might.” You admitted. “Got anything to eat? I'm starving.”

Miss Pauling glanced over your emaciated form. “That… actually might be the case. When Respawn brings someone back, it usually leaves them feeling a little bit drained, and it's why you're all so hungry at the end of a battle. Respawning takes energy, and I'd say this last trip took almost all of yours. It ate right through your fat and muscle reserves!”

“Ah,” You replied, “I was afraid that might be the case. What happens if I Respawn again?”

“It's… it's probably best if we don't test that out.”

The two of you walked through the base in silence after that, with you leaning heavily on Miss Pauling for support. She didn't seem to mind, however; though you often caught her casting worried glances at you. You felt the temperature in the air steadily drop as you reached the entrance to the base, yet you were still caught off guard when a chilly blast of wintry air smacked you in the face. Snow swirled all around you, coating the base and battlefield in white. The first rays of an early morning sunrise were just starting to peak over the horizon, giving you enough light to see by.

In the distance, you could see Engie's truck, the blue vehicle standing out amidst the white. However, something seemed… off about the truck. You squinted, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Hey P, did you bring a… a dog with you?” You mumbled, tilting your head at the canine shape that stood in the headlights.

“What?” Miss Pauling looked confused for a moment, before she, too, saw the creature. “What is… uh oh.”

“Uh oh? Why uh oh?” You questioned, before taking a closer look at the dog, which was now slowly moving towards the two of you.

Oh.

Uh oh indeed.

It wasn't a dog.

It was a wolf.

The beast was huge, with a thick, ungroomed black coat and amber eyes that glowed a bright, golden color in the early morning. It growled as it approached, and you could see saliva frothing at its mouth.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” You balked, stumbling as Miss Pauling pulled you both back, “A rabid wolf. Why not!”

“How did it even contract rabies all the way out here?!” Miss Pauling yelped, quickly drawing her pistol. You eyed the small gun, wondering if she could aim well enough to shoot the hulking animal with your dead weight hanging off her.

Left with no other options, you weakly pawed at your coat, trying to locate something that could help you fight off the rabid beast. You had all the ingredients needed to make something truly dangerous, but if you tried to mix them now, you'd just as likely make something that would kill you before the wolf could.

Grabbing something that would at least blind the animal, you braced yourself as best you could, ready to try and help Miss Pauling fight.

“INCOMING!”

You, Miss Pauling, and the wolf all turned your heads as one, eyes widening when Sniper's van suddenly emerged from the snowstorm like the chariot of an angry Australian god. The vehicle slammed into the wolf, sending it flying out of sight. A few seconds later, an expensive looking car skidded to a stop a few feet away, one of the back doors opening before the car could even fully stop.

Scout came barreling out first, slipping on the snow and ice as he tried to regain his balance. Sniper, Heavy, and Spy followed suit, with the other's appearing behind them. They all looked absolutely horrendous; their eye bags had eye bags, Soldier and Sniper clearly needed to shave, and none of them were even remotely dressed for the cold weather of the north.

But they had never looked better to you.

Scout spotted you first, and you hardly had time to blink before the Bostonian was upon you, yanking you out of Miss Pauling's hold and into his arms.

“You're alive! Holy crap you're alive!” Scout cried, spinning you around and pressing his face into your shoulder.

Pyro joined you next, the arsonist all but smothering both you and Scout as they sobbed. You patted their back, leaning into their warm suit, attempting to leech their abundant body heat.

Before you could get a word out, a fierce yell startled you into a defensive stance. Suddenly, you were being held up by your armpits and being shook like a maraca.

“DO NOT PULL SUCH A STUNT AGAIN, MAGGOT!” Soldier yelled angrily, but you caught a glimpse of wet eyes under his helmet, “IF YOU DIE LIKE THAT AGAIN I WILL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR YELLOW-BELLIED SOUL RIGHT OUT OF HELL!”

“Sol, put them down, consarnit!” Engineer chided, smacking Soldier in the side. Once the helmeted man set you back down onto the ground, Engineer pulled you into a warm, firm hug, his flesh hand coming to rest on the back of your neck.

“Hey Engie.” You murmured softly, “Don’t be mad at Miss P, okay?”

“Buddy, ah’m gonna be treatin’ her to a steak dinner after this.” he chuckled, before gently passing you over to someone else, “Here, Demo. Be careful with ‘em. They ain’t lookin’ too good right now.”

“Aye, ya look like shite, dont’cha?” Demo laughed softly, gently ruffling your hair before pulling you into a hug, tucking you under his chin. “Ah, I’m glad yer alright. Ye gave us a right scare, ya wee bastard!”

“Sorry.” You chuckled, leaning into his chest. Demo patted your shoulder, before you were released and spun around to see Medic, Heavy, Spy and Sniper. While Heavy lifted you up into one arm, Miss Pauline began questioning how the mercenaries had found out where you and her were.

Medic descended upon you like a mother hen, fretting about the poor state you were in while simultaneously raving about the unexplored limits of the Respawn Machines. He plucked a few tablets out of a bottle in one of his coat pockets, instructing you to swallow, not chew them as Sniper handed you a well worn thermos. It was warm, and when you opened the lid, the smell of coffee hit your nose. A quick sip revealed that it was made just how you liked, which made you smile, because it meant that the usually unsociable marksman had gone out of his way to make the drink specifically for you.

“Here, mon ami,” Spy strode forward, a blanket draped over his arm. He wrapped it around your shoulders gently, tucking it in tightly, almost like your parents would do for you when you were small, “this should warm you up a bit.”

The tenderness of your usually tough, rowdy teammates made you sniffle, and you snuggled in closer to Heavy, clutching your thermos.

“I love you guys.” You said, your voice wavering with emotion, rather than cold this time, “Seriously. I- there isn’t a better team out there.”

Your praise made the gathered men puff up slightly. It was clear your opinion mattered a great deal to them.

“Hell yeah! We’re da’ freakin’ best!” Scout shouted.

“Leetle Chemist is included in that.” Heavy added, and you blushed slightly.

“Heavy is right, mein Chemiker.” Medic agreed, “Jou have cheated Death more zhen anyone else before jou! It is truly amazing!”

“I don’t feel amazing.” You said, quickly sipping the offered coffee.

“Vell, you are severely malnutritioned, so I am not surprised.” Medic replied. “Ah, don’t drink zhat so fast. Jou’ll just zhrow it back up.”

Once the word ‘malnutritioned’ passed the doctor’s lips, you could practically hear Engineer’s ears perk up. You were sure many home cooked meals with Engie in his workshop were in your future.

“Come on, mate, let’s get em’ outta the cold, yeah?” Sniper suggested to Heavy, gesturing towards his van. Spy snorted.

“Please, you want to have our dear Chemist rest in zhat thing? The last thing zhey need is to be surrounded by piss and crocodile jerky.” he snarked, which drew a disgruntled sneer from Sniper.

“Oi! My van is perfectly clean, and its leagues bettah than your dinky lil’ car! You just wanna hog all their attention ‘cause you’re a needy, selfish buggah!” Sniper shot back.

Heavy sighed deeply as the two men started arguing, before looking down at you.

“Heavy thinks it would be best for leetle Chemist to ride with Engineer in his truck for now. Team is very excited you are alive, and this makes them act-” the two of you winced as Soldier started yelling again, “more like loud idiots than usual, да?”

“At this point, big guy, I’d welcome the noise.” You admitted, “It was… quiet here. And lonely.”

Heavy looked at you with a saddened expression. “How long were you alone for?”

“A… a day, I think. It was hard to tell, since there were no windows.” You glanced over in the direction the wolf had been flung. “Honestly, that might have been for the best, considering what was waiting out here for me and Miss Pauling when we finally got outside.”

“Was wolf, yes? Heavy could not see very well, but it looked like wolf.” The heavy weapons expert said as he started off towards Engineer’s truck.

“Yeah, it was a wolf. A rabid one. You guys showed up just in time. I was afraid it would get close enough to bite us.” You shivered, pulling your blanket in closer.

“Miss Pauling would not have allowed that. She is small woman, yes, but very fierce.” Heavy paused for a moment, looked over at Scout and Soldier, who were talking to Miss Pauling, then leaned in to whisper: “She is better shot than some of the team. Do not tell them I said this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.” You winked as Heavy gently set you down in the passenger seat, careful not to jostle you. The seat was still warm from the heater, and you relished in it, almost not even noticing when Engineer slipped into the driver’s seat next to you.

“Buckle up, darl’.” He grinned, reaching to pull the seat belt over your chest.

“Thanks, Engie.” You returned his smile and lay back, resting your head against your seat belt.

As you got comfortable, you noticed that the truck had an extra few passengers. Pyro waved to you from the back as both Soldier and Scout climbed up into the bed. Both men looked visibly cold, but they stubbornly plonked themselves down, dead set on staying near you. Just in case.

Spy and Sniper finally stopped squabbling when they realized that you were no longer around to fight over, and both slunk back to their respective vehicles as Engineer started up his truck. Miss Pauling and Medic followed Spy, while Demo and Heavy trailed after Sniper. Knowing your team, there would be another fight the second you all stopped for gas or food, likely over who you should sit with for the rest of the drive back. Honestly, it was like being back in school, surrounded by a friend group of mentally ill lunatics who fought like spoiled dogs for your attention.

You wouldn’t change a thing. You were, after all, just as needy and clingy as the rest of them, and you knew you’d be even more desperate to be near someone all the time, afraid to be back in that horrid silence.

How wonderful for you, then, that you had 8 men, 1 woman, and 1 Pyro who would be more than happy to indulge you.

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