#I have been through the entire tag multiple times

[strzxrin]

Hallo!! I stumbled onto ur account nd omg u have literally all of my fave tropes for x reader fics lmao

Ne ways can I request a Elliot and Xiuying x reader where they're both fighting for reader's attention? Maybe Elliot sees Xiuying being friendly nd a lil too close to MC nd that's when Elliot amps up his bullying a bit (maybe some marking action going on too idk- 👀), then later Xiuying sees that the reader's going through something (nd he knows it's Elliot) nd gets a lil protective/possessive over the reader

imma do what i want, so get lost or get with it !

synopsis. ┆ you were just trying to get through your university life without too much attention. but turns out that the gods have different plans it seems.

tags/warnings. ┆ gn!reader, dark content, dub-con, marking, possessive behaviours, size differences, multiple parts on having sex, reader is written to be a scholarship student and the secretary for student council, enemies to lovers(?), elliot is completely delusional, degradation (elliot), virginity loss (elliot), blowjob (elliot), elliot calls you a whore, jealous sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering (xiuying), praising (xiuying), edging (xiuying)

characters. ┆ elliot pearce ( bully . human character ) . zi xiuying ( student president . half-elf character )

a/n. ┆ the amount of times this fic has been rewritten bc i was rereading what i wrote pre-exams and i question my capabilities as a writer is actually diabolical. ALSO PLS NOTE. when i meant by virginity loss, i don't mean any insertion bc i find it to be very hetereo-norm, so in my thoughts about what exactly is virginity loss is when you do any sexual activity with another person. but i do hope you guys enjoy this fic and it is filthy i fear

masterlist ┆ character wiki

you don’t really remember how you got to this stage. being pinned against the wall and kissed in an empty lecture hall that you know no one is going to enter since it is a sunday. 

you had tried your very best into avoiding the wrong people in this university. especially since you’re in the same batch as the elliot pearce. 

it’s not as if you didn’t know of his story, of the countless poor victims that had gotten on his wrong side just by looking at him wrongly, talking to him wrongly. you stayed far away from him, trying to get out of his sight completely during your foundation year. it really didn’t help when you both got into the same exact course for your degree.

still, you tried your hardest not to look at him the wrong way, you became a wallflower essentially. you never tried to stand out too much, and you’re just thankful that your course is specifically based on sole courseworks, so you didn’t need to pair up with anyone.

and just when you thought that you could finish your third year in peace, that is when fate decided to struck you like lightning. you were his next victim and you never felt more scared shitless in your entire life.

because being entangled with elliot pearce meant that your entire life will be essentially ruined. and you wished that it was an exaggeration, but that man holds too much power and a boredom that could most definitely be compared to an eight year old. the moment he finds someone to play with, he’ll play with them until they break.

and unfortunately for you, you were now his toy. his doll, as he would like to call it. you get squirmish whenever he calls you that, when he looks at you with that irritating smirk, when he knows that you’re worried for everything that you had built for to graduate.

he makes you feel infuriated, tired and most of all, pathetic. because you do not have nearly enough power as he does. 

really, his ministrations started simple at first, bothering you when you’re in class and trying to do notes. but then it became more and more frequent, especially when you gut started to churn whenever you see him getting close. you were on a scholarship, you had no choice but to push yourself into studies because university isn’t for the weak. 

with lecturers that somehow can’t do their job properly and just read off the slides, to millions of presentations you had to read through and additional reading to understand what they were even teaching, to courseworks and exams being thrown into your face.

you never had a moment of break. because if you do, the university will recindicate your scholarship, and you wouldn’t be able to continue going to this place. this was your only chance into getting a good job, to get money and live the carefree life you had always wanted.

but he had to ruin it the moment he laid eyes on you.

in his point of view though, he had noticed you from the very beginning of foundation. during the induction, he was bored, with people flocking him left to right about wanting to form a ‘friendship’ with him. he knew better, it was due to the connections that he had that makes everyone want to worship the ground that he walks on.

but he saw you during that day. his eyes were drawn onto you as you looked out of place, awkward, as if it was your first time being in a place like this. you looked average to say the least, but that changed when you both made eye contact for the first time and he felt his heart thump.

it was a feeling he had never experienced. sure he dated some people before, fucked them too, but there were no strings attached because in the end they had only wanted his money. he sees you averting your gaze and trying to not catch his attention. or anyone else’s attention either.

he started looking for you more and more, and he gets annoyed by the people who were trying to approach you, or him once they realised that you were nothing to them. those people became his victims, and frankly he doesn’t regret it.

and for the next four years, he didn’t have a chance to even talk to you once since you always slipped away from his grasps the moment he tries to do so. what a pretty and infuriating wallflower you are. but it was fine, as long as he gets to see you, he’ll be content. he wants to have you, yes, but he’ll find a way to have you in the near future.

at least that was his plan.

until he sees you standing next to him of all people. zi xiuying, the perfect golden boy. and you were smiling at him. fuck. your smile was so pretty too, but it wasn’t for him. it was for that obnoxiously perfect student president.

your smile would be sheepish, and you’d turn flustered every time xiuying compliments you and it made something within him snap. you wouldn’t even look at him, and he needed your gaze to be back on him, just like how it did all those years ago. because you were his, from that day on, you had always been his.

so, he did what he’d do best, fuck with your mind until you break and fall apart just so that he could build you up and mold you just for him.

he’d see you trying to run off to a different direction whenever he finds you in the halls, but his strides are long that he keeps up with you. he’d sling his arm over your shoulder and whisper words of “don’t run away from me” or “keep running and i’ll give you a reason that you can’t.” and he lives seeing you shudder around him.

elliot had gotten more territorial however, especially when student council has been getting to it’s busiest lately. and you, as the dutiful secretary that you are, you had to make sure you did your job right.

the reason for his behaviour is when he caught you giving xiuying a small kiss on his cheek and a sheepish smile. what the fuck. you were his, so why are you kissing another man?

when you were alone and trying to find a place to do your work, he pulled you into and empty classroom, his patience finally reaching its limits.

“what was that?” he asks, pinning you against the wall as you gulped, seeing the dark look in his eyes, and your stomach churns. 

“what are you even talking about?” you whispered as he lets out a scoff at your act “just now, with that golden boy. you kissed him” you blinked at his words. “i didn’t? that was a peck on the cheek” “that is still considered as a kiss” “no it doesn’t— why are you even so worked up on it? you’re not even my boyfriend”

ah. his patience has finally come to an end.

“you were mine first. long before you even met him. and you tell me that i’m not your boyfriend?” “elliot what are you even talking about—” “shut it, you whore.”

why did that make you clench. why did he have to be a hot person with a shit personality. why did this have to happen to you?

“did you like it, hm? having his attention on you? being praised by him for doing some tasks? i didn’t know you were the type to be into that” he whispers, his lips at your ear as he nipped your earlobe, making you squirm under his touch. “don’t you dare try to run off again, doll.” it was derogatory, and it made your core churn.

if he was sick, then you’re even sicker to be turned on by this.

you wanted to push him away. in fact, you could if you truly wanted to. he didn’t pin your hands down, so you truly had your shot. but you were stuck in place, entranced by how he looks at you. “see, even your body knows that you belong to me” you shuddered once more and he gives a lazy smirk in turn.

he pulled away slightly, waiting to see your reaction, and you didn’t know why but your hands immediately clung onto his clothes, not wanting him to go just yet. and that alone gave him permission to do what he always wanted to do. to have you.

he leaned in, kissing your lips to which you stood there awkwardly at first before he pulled away just slightly “open your mouth, doll” he murmured, his thumb now caressing your bottom lip to which you followed his instructions. “there you go.. so good for me, yeah?” he murmured and kissed you once more.

he pushed his tongue in and hummed. you taste so uniquely you, and he wanted more of it. you didn’t know where to put your hands, instead just gripping onto his shirt for life as he kisses you breathless. when he pulled away, you were panting but he wasn’t done just yet.

he dipped his head lower, kissing your jaw before staying in the crook of your neck, kissing and nibbling. you let out a gasp at the sensation to which he continued to make blossoms of red and purple on your neck. 

the sounds you make were enchanting to him, and frankly he wanted more. he looks up to see some tears in your eyes which made him hard at the sight. such pretty tears, he couldn’t help but coo at it before kissing you senseless once more.

just when he has made your lips all slick with kisses is when he deemed it as enough from giving you kisses till you pass out. he took a step back to look at the work of art that he made with your skin and he grinned.

you were a flushed, panting mess. your hair was dishelved, your clothes a bit messed up from the tugging and pulling that he did. but you looked, beautiful in his eyes. 

“e-elliot..” you murmured, trying to call for his attention when he was straight up staring at you. when he came to be, he sees your eyes looking elsewhere on his body which made him let out a chuckle “so that wasn’t enough for you, was it?” you sputtered at his teasing making him just watch you in amusement.

“you’re a virgin aren’t you?” you looked away when he asked that, nodding a bit sheepishly, making him hum in return. “then, let me be your first” he whispers, holding your chin so that you would look at him again. 

you find yourself unsure how to respond. he’s a bastard that’s for sure, but with the way he looks at you, you couldn’t bring to say no either. so in the end, you nodded which made him give you a lazy smirk.

he kissed you once more but he made your hands go down his body, letting them roam as you feel every part of him. he was definitely built like a statue, that’s for one. and as he guided his hand lower, you finally felt his bulge and you almost choked in the kiss. why is he big? surely not all men are this big?

he pulled away and chuckled softly at your reaction “surprise, doll?” he murmured, groaning when you gripped his cock through his pants “fuck, you’re handsy” he says through gritted teeth as you felt warm by your cheeks. “sorry..” you murmured, but he doesn’t allow you to let go either.

“keep doin’ that doll, massage it- fuuuck” he groaned as you did what he said. you were curious, ever so curious to see it in person, and when you looked up at him with such innocence, he swore he was about to cum in his pants.

“take my pants off” he murmured and you paused, feeling hesitant but you did it regardless. his dick sprung out and your eyes almost popped out at the size and girth “is it supposed to be this big? or veiny for that matter?” he paused at your questioning and let out an actual laugh instead of a chuckle.

“you’re rather funny when you want to be, doll. but i would say i’m just above average, and for the veins.. well, yes, i’d say so” he’s seen dicks before in his life, outside of porn and all. so he’d say his is pretty normal, minus the size.

“i.. i don’t think it can fit—” “we don’t have to do that today. just jerk me off and it’ll calm down” he says simply. no, if he had it his way, he would’ve fucked you senseless but he’s not about to make you, a virgin, feel like shit in the end. 

he’s obsessed with you, yes, but he’s not that make you want to kill yourself in the end. that wouldn’t be too good for him since he wants to stay by your side always.

you gulped and nodded, focusing on his cock, palming the head for a moment as he leaked precum. you hear his groans and you looked back up at him, wondering if you were doing it right “fuck, doll. keep looking at me like that, i might just fuck your face in the end” you got flustered again and looked back down.

you worked him slowly, but the more you stroke his cock, you wondered if it tastes good. you heard and read that it was salty, but you were unsure. and as much as you tried to give him pleasure, you weren’t too sure if you’re doing a good job. 

“what if i want to try..?” you whispered out softly and it made elliot grabbed you chin so you could face him. “try what, doll?” you stayed silent and he hummed “use your words, baby,” you felt your stomach churning again “..sucking it..” he groaned at your admission.

“on your knees, now.” he commanded and something within your body just decided to listen to him. you looked stunning on your knees in his eyes. “open your mouth and stick your tongue out.. just like that” he lightly slapped his dick on your tongue, grunting at the warmth. 

“go on, lick” he could see your hesitance but when he felt your tongue licking the tip, he almost lost control and snapped his hips forward. yet he didn’t. he didn’t even need to tell you what to do when you started to suck. 

his eyes rolled back before he guided your head to take as much as you could. he watches your head bobbing and your eyes looking up at him. fuck. he wants to fuck your throat so badly. his control was fraying until your tongue swirled around his length “oh fuuck! how did you even know to do that” he grunted.

are you.. smiling up at him? what a cheeky whore. he wants to rub that smirk off your face, and he pushed his cock deeper. you moaned at the sensation and he was going to cum from that alone. 

for someone who had experience before you, you make him feel like a virgin himself, which he found pathetic. still, he held back and rock his hips until he was close “m’gonna cum. inside or on your face?” he asks. he wanted to see his cum on your face, marking you as his, but the idea of you swallowing his cum also sounded hot.

“inshide” your words muffled and he grunted. inside it is then. he went just a bit harder before he cummed down your throat.

you choked at the sheer amount but you tried to swallow it all. when he was done, he pulled out with a loud pop and you choked for air. he ran his fingers through your hair, and just as he was about to get you up, the door opened.

the both of you immediately looked at the door to see xiuying looking at the scene. before elliot could even try to pull you away from the man, he came quickly and pulled you away from elliot. “keep you dick in your pants, asshole” xiuying says simply, dragging you away from the classroom.

after being a good distance away, he finally looked at you and your state. his eyes darken at the sight, seeing you all worked up and marked by that insufferable dickhead. you were quiet, feeling embarrassed and shy from being caught in a compromising situation.

“did he force you?” “what?” you blinked before shaking your head “n-no.. he didn’t.. it just, uhm, it just happened i guess?” he gave you a calculating look before nodding. he doesn’t talk about it nor did he force you to do.

for the next few days, xiuying never left your side. for his course, he didn’t have any classes for a week, so instead he kept accompanying you the whole time, not letting elliot have any time alone with you.

you swore you could feel the tension between the two, until you just couldn’t handle it anymore and asked xiuying straight up when you both were in the council room. tae-woo didn’t come to university today, having his own problems, which made it be the two of you alone.

“what is all this for, xiuying?” you asked softly, making him look up from the paperwork. he tilted his head “what do you mean?” surely he can’t be playing dumb? “this.. whole thing with elliot and all” you swore you saw his eyes darken for a moment before he gives you a gentle smile instead.

“well, i for one, do not want to see any students having sex in the school’s vicinity,” he says which made you feel warm at the memory. xiuying almost scoffed at your reaction but kept a smiling face for you.

“unless you like him? but that can’t be, right? after all, he has been making you forcefully isolate yourself all these years” he says, standing up from his seat and walked closer to your desk, his arms holding the edge as he leaned down.

“i..” you didn’t know what to say anymore which made him hum “don’t tell me i’m wrong. are you going to ignore everything that he did just because you got to suck his dick?” he asks, and his voice sounded rougher than usual. you almost backed off from your chair but you doubt that would help your situation.

he moved around the desk and went directly in front of you, his hand tilting your chin up just so that you won’t avoid his gaze “is that what it takes to get you to like someone, hm?” he asks leaning down to whisper “should i fuck you too so that you’ll finally like me back?”

why is this happening to you? you just wanted a clean life until you graduate, so why are these two men pining for you like it’s the end of the world? “xiuying please..” you whimpered softly and he had to bite back a groan.

you sounded so sweet. maybe this is why elliot just had to have his fill first, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have you either. “i can make you feel better in comparison to him. just give me a chance” he whispers. he doesn’t care if it made him sound pathetic. he just wants to have you. 

he had always liked you, ever since the moment you applied for secretary all those years ago, he knew he just had to have you by his side constantly. this was just his breaking point, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“xiuying.. i..” your gaze went down but even then you could feel his gaze on you. you felt flustered before you just nodded.

after all, unlike elliot, you reciprocated your feelings with xiuying. you developed feelings for him a year ago, but you were worried if he didn’t feel the same, so you never confessed. but seeing how he’s acting like this, you think that you’d have a chance.

he sees you agreeing to him which made him smile and picked you up, placing you on the table before kissing you. due to sharing your first kiss with elliot, you knew what to do this time and he grunted into the kiss.

“he taught you this?” he asks, his words a murmur against your lips as you nodded. xiuying wanted to rewrite your body’s pleasure until you were writhing for him and him only. he wanted to make sure you forgot everything about elliot, and he will be damned if he did not give you the most pleasure in comparison to him.

he peppered kisses onto your neck and marked you over the hickeys that elliot placed. his fingers started trailing down your body and your breath hitches. he was taking it slow, and his touches were gentle in comparison to elliot.

his hand slipped in between your thighs and started to move in a circle motion right at your clothed entrance. you shuddered in response, moaning softly at the feeling before hiding in his neck to try and take ahold of yourself. he coos at how cute you were being as his hands worked to slip your pants off.

when you laid bare, he brought his fingers up to your lips “suck, let it get wet” he murmured softly and you did as he told, licking and sucking his fingers just as you had done to elliot’s cock. when he deemed it wet enough, he pushed your underwear to the side and pulled his fingers out of your mouth to slowly push into your hole.

your hands immediately gripped onto his shoulder for support, your hole clenching tightly around his fingers. “shh.. take deep breaths, i won’t move until you’re comfortable” he reassures you, keeping his fingers still until you got used to the feeling of him in your entrance.

you gave him a nod when you felt comfortable and he started slowly first, keeping a gentle pace before you had moans of his name spilling out of your mouth. he coos softly and then began to move just a bit faster, making you squirm and gripping onto him for dear life.

your walls felt gummy and you were loosening up which made him grunt “that’s it.. so good for me” he praises softly and your stomach did flips. your mind was slowly melting from the pleasure and he could see it in your breathing pattern, the way how your eyes close in bliss, and he knew he was doing well.

he could feel you tightening up again, but before he could let you have your orgasm, he pulled out. you choked out a whine, looking at him with tears in your eyes “w-why’d you stop?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper and he hummed softly “because you’ll feel even better once i do let you cum”

he kept doing that over and over again, and you don’t remember how long has it been before he started to lean down and pepper kisses to your inner thighs. your body shook at the change of stimulation and you were close to cumming again, when he pulled his fingers out once more. you were fully sobbing, just wanting to cum at this point.

“xiuying pleaseeee, i can’t take it anymore” you whimpered, your voice shaky as he lets out a chuckle before finally licking your entrance. you moaned loudly and he took in the smell and taste that was completely and uniquely you. 

you thought he was going to pull his fingers out when he felt you getting close, but he didn’t. instead, he went harder which made you moan louder and squirmed even more, your fingers tugging at his hair. he finally let you cum and he swallowed every bit of it, enjoying the taste of your orgasm.

when you went down from your high, he pulled away and gave you a kiss, keeping his fingers inside you for a while. “you were amazing” he murmured, praising you and peppering soft and gentle kisses all over your face.

he pulled his fingers out and started to coddle you gently, letting you soak in the afterglow of the fingerfuck and he just wanted you to rest on his lap. he likes having you close, because it meant that you were officially his now. 

“just stay with me like this, okay? i promise everything will be alright in the end” he whispers, watching as your eyes close from exhausting as he cradled you to sleep. you were his, not elliot’s, but his. and he’ll make sure you know that in the end.

[gaycey-sketchit]

Bruce Banner syndrome is so real, why is so much of the stuff in Tracey’s AO3 tag PokéShipping or PalletShipping where he’s mentioned twice, or long ensemble cast fics where he appears once, to the point where finding a fic in his tag that’s actually about him in any capacity is like trying to find a needle in a haystack?

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[wackywatchdotcom]

realized i havent posted abt basically any of my crossovers ive worked on .... i think thats honestly impressive considering i often dont shut up about them.... but then again things ive gotten REALLY into i end up sidelining crossovers for the sake of analysis n discussion..... beautiful

[flowersforbucky]

delirium

bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

word count: 4.1k

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.

warnings/tags: sex pollen, dub con, unprotected sex, oral, masturbation, angst, descriptions of physical pain, language, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, reader is afab, 18+ only

flashbacks are in italics

Sometime in the near future, there would be a case study conducted on how long a human being could burn from the inside without dying.

They would refer to you as exhibit a.

Doctors and scientists would lay your cold corpse on a colder table and use a scalpel to cut you from your thorax to your belly button. They would scribble notes about how your lungs had turned to ash and your esophagus to molten lava.

They wouldn't say it, but they would think it's a shame, because your driver's license states that you were an organ donor.

A harsh gust of wind snaps you out of the twisted fantasy and back to your reality - standing barefoot on the rickety front porch steps of a small cabin in Sitka, Alaska. You've only been outside for a few minutes but the snow is pouring down at a brutal pace, already covering the tops of your exposed feet.

The razor sharp chill of the ground below you and the air that surrounds you are the only things tethering you to what little remains of your sanity.

You never thought that you would be so thankful for your feet to be going numb, but after feeling like every fiber of your being is getting melted with a hot branding iron for - what? Ten? Twelve hours now? You had to resist the temptation to submerge your entire body in the multiple feet of snow that had accumulated since nightfall.

You hear the front door of the cabin creak open from behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that he's standing in the doorway with the same look of pleading desperation that he's been giving you since the two of you had realized what was happening.

“You need to come back inside,” he says delicately. His voice is muffled by the roar of the snowstorm, but right now with heightened senses, you hear him just fine. “You're going to get hypothermia.”

You don't respond. The mere sound of his voice makes you grit your teeth together so hard that you're surprised the tiny bones don't shatter.

He keeps to the doorway, scared that if he takes one step closer, you'll flee into the miles of thick woods that surrounds you in only a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He murmurs your name in a tone that begs you to come in from the below freezing temperatures.

“What time is it now?” You barely recognize your own voice - low and strained, it sounds like you haven't had anything to drink in days.

You clear your throat, though you doubt it'll make any difference.

“Just after four o'clock.”

Eleven hours into this hell, then. Best case scenario, another half a day of this. Worst case scenario, close to two.

Either way, you knew that these symptoms had yet to hit their peak. This would undoubtedly get worse before it gets better.

You stare out into the endless thicket of snow covered hemlocks and spruces. The illumination from the full moon makes the white powder on the branches glisten in the darkness.

Daylight was still hours away, and with it, hope for some means of communication with the rest of your team back in New York. The snowstorm had brought a widespread power outage across the city. Cell phone signal was nonexistent right now.

“Go on back to your room,” you tell him. “I'll come back inside in just a moment.” You continue to watch the blizzard before you, knowing that he's still just a few feet away from you. “I promise,” you add, hoping that he’ll believe you and return to the bedroom you'd been forcing him to keep to.

The drug coursing through your veins had amplified every one of your five senses. Even with him behind the closed door of the bedroom, you could still smell faint traces of the earthy musk of his deodorant and something warm that is uniquely him.

You wouldn't chance coming back into the house until his scent has dissipated from the entrance - not unless you want to feel as though all air is being stripped from your lungs.

Even simply standing here, with him behind you and the wind blowing his scent in the opposite direction, is nearly intolerable.

You hear footsteps retreat into the house, growing quieter and quieter as he makes his way back down the hallway, until you finally hear the click of his bedroom door. You exhale a breath that you weren't aware you had been holding in.

You have no doubt that he'll try to drag you back inside by the ankles if he has to, so you make good on your promise and return to the sweltering interior of the six hundred square foot log cabin.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiates from the center of your body at that thought - the exact kind of thoughts you were actively trying to avoid having. Thoughts of his hands digging into your thighs, his wet mouth on your throat, his bare chest pressed against yours as he fucks you into the likely thirty-something year old couch - those thoughts. Dangerous territory thoughts - the kind you didn't trust yourself not to act on if dwelled upon for too long.

Apparently, the thought of him putting his hands around your ankles and dragging you kicking and screaming falls into that category.

You settle onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest in an effort to alleviate the ache in your lower belly. You notice that Bucky has crammed more wood into the fireplace, which currently serves as the main source of light for the cabin, save for a few candles that have been placed sporadically throughout the small space.

Sweat begins to bead across your skin within seconds of sitting down in front of the fire. You know that Bucky is just trying to keep the temperature of the house from dropping below zero while also providing enough light to see during the middle of the night while you are in too much discomfort to sleep, but you feel like you are locked in a sauna after running five miles.

You think back to all of the times that you've given Sam shit for taking ice baths after his workouts. Now nothing sounds better than an ice bath.

Almost nothing, anyway. The only thing that could possibly feel even better is laying down behind a closed door less than twenty feet away.

And he'd offered - begged, actually, to take this pain away from you.

“Please,” he whispers, kneeling on the ground next to the couch, where you sit hunched over in pain. He's so close to you and it's fucking suffocating. He places his hand on your knee and you have to dig your nails into the suede upholstery to keep from whimpering. He notices the reaction and retracts his touch.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says louder, the pet name finally getting you to meet his gaze for the first time since you dropped the glass jar of the firetruck red powder in the former HYDRA warehouse two hours ago.

Big mistake. Looking at him is a big fucking mistake. From the way his blue eyes bore into yours with sincere concern to the way that his plump, pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather -

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head into your hands. “I can't ask that of you. I can't make you do that. I would never forgive my–”

“You wouldn't be asking or making me do anything,” he tries to reason with you. There's sincerity in his voice but you're too delirius to hear the truth of his words. “I'm offering. Because I care about you. Because I don't want to see you in any kind of pain if there's anything I can do about it. Because I think you'd do the same for me if the situation were–”

“Bucky,” you cut him off in a strained gasp. “Your voice is making this so much worse right now.”

“Then let me help you. Let me make you feel good.”

His words alone are enough to have you clenching your thighs around nothing but the thick material of your sweatpants. You can feel your cotton panties becoming more drenched with each word he speaks.

“Not like this.” You're on the verge of tears - from pain, from anger at the entire situation, from how goddamn badly you need to feel him inside you. “It can't happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

His features soften, a look of understanding spreading across his face.

“When we fuck, I want it to be because we want to fuck,” you say as you jump up from your position on the couch, desperately needing to distance yourself from him before you do something you can't take back. “I don't want it to be because we feel like neither of us have a choice in the matter.”

“But we do have a choice,” he murmurs from where he's still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “And I'd choose to go back to that HYDRA facility and infect myself with this shit, too, if it means you'd feel a little less guilty about saying yes.”

Your answer to that was, of course, a big, giant absolutely fucking not. The snow started pouring down shortly after, making his irrational proclamation an impossibility, anyway.

Almost half a day later, here you are. Surrounded by miles and miles of snow and ice in a town with no power or semi-functioning cell phone towers, just trying to endure the fire coursing through your veins until the effects of the HYDRA made drug have worked through your system.

You're coming up on the twelve hour mark now, and there's no denying that you're desperate for relief in one way or another.

Worth a fucking shot, you think.

You prop your feet up on the glass coffee table in front where you sit on the couch, spreading your thighs apart by a few inches.

You hesitate for a moment, listening for any kind of indication that Bucky's no longer in the confines of the cabin’s singular bedroom.

Dead silent, except for the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

You snake your hand down the front of your pants, past the waistband of your underwear and to your center that's been aching for hours now.

You stroke your fingers up and down your folds, stopping at the apex of your core to massage your clit in circular motions.

Your head rolls back on the couch at the sensation, immediately feeling the slightest sense of relief. You dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from moaning - hard enough to draw blood, the taste of iron flooding your mouth.

You slip two fingers past your entrance, not requiring any foreplay to plunge them to the hilt. It feels good - the way you're working yourself with rapid scissoring motions. Really fucking good, actually. Better than fingering yourself has ever felt.

But only a mere minute into the ministrations, you fear that it won't be enough to satiate you in the way that the drug requires.

Still, you try. You yank your t-shirt above your tits, bringing your free hand to paw at your breast as you continue working your pussy with your fingers, the heel of your palm putting pressure against your clit.

“That's not going to work, you know.”

You yank your hand out of your pants, snapping your head to the side to see him leaning against the frame of the small hallway. You had been so immersed in attempting to find some amount of relief that you hadn't heard him exit the bedroom. He's looking at you with sympathy and concern, not judgment - you don't think you'd be able to find it within yourself to feel embarrassed even if he were. Not in your current state of discomfort.

“How do you know that?” Frustration is evident in your voice. You look away from him, back to the fire in front of you as you pull your shirt back down. The floor creaks as he steps out of the hallway and makes his way over to the opposite end of the small couch. He sits a foot away from you, close enough so that his scent and warmth invades your senses, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core.

“Because I've been through what you're going through right now.”

Your eyes break away from the ember that you've been staring at, your gaze snapping to him. You don't know why this comes as a surprise to you. It shouldn't, not with every other form of torment that HYDRA had inflicted upon him for over half a century.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was embarrassed,” he answers with a small half-shrug, breaking your stare. “I didn't.. handle it as well as you are,” he continues, shame in his voice and cheeks rosy. “You’re doing everything you can to fight something that you didn't ask for. That's more than I can say for myself.”

“You were brainwashed, Bucky,” you remind him delicately. It's a risky move that makes your skin burn and belly clench, but you scoot closer to him on the couch - your outermost thigh brushing against his knee. If the two of you weren't both wearing sweatpants, the minimal touch might even aid in bringing you some relief. Instead, you’re left feeling desperate for more of him.

But you push the feeling down, wanting to do what little you can to comfort him - wanting him to know that you don't think poorly of him for what was forced onto him, and what is now being forced onto you, too.

“I would never judge you for anything they made you do,” you assure him.

“I know you wouldn't,” he murmurs, turning to face you again. His blue eyes glow in the low lighting of the fire. The closeness between the two of you is dizzying, and electrifying, and -

“And I want you to know that I would never judge you for giving into this torture,” he adds.

You snort a laugh. “I'm starting to think you want me to give into this.” You mean for the statement to sound light-hearted, but a sharp pang in your gut makes you wince in pain and your voice goes shrill. You clutch your lower belly, hunching over at the pain.

He leans in closer, putting one hand on your lower back and one on your thigh. You whimper at the pressure of his fingers against your spine and inner thigh. Even through your clothes, the contact feels like heaven compared to hell you've been enduring for the last twelve hours.

You lean into his touch - you don't even think about it, you just do it. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your forehead nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

You take a deep inhale, attempting to steady your breathing, and you realize quickly that is a mistake - his scent is so euphoric, it feels like inhaling flames.

“Would it make it easier for you if I said that I do want you to give in?” His voice is low, his breath fanning across your face from his position above you.

“Fuck, Bucky, you can't say that to me right now,” you whine. You fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes squint shut.

“Look at me,” he commands. You force your eyes open, pulling your head back enough to look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I want it to be your choice.” He brings a hand up to cup your jawline. His thumb skims the outline of your bottom lip. “But I would be lying if I said that I'm not relieved that I'm the one here with you, or that I wouldn't enjoy every second of helping you feel better.”

He brings his hands to yours, pulling them away from where they still clutch his shirt. You release your grip, allowing him to hold you by your wrists. He pulls your right hand up to his face, stopping just under his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion, until it dawns on you what it is he's doing.

He inhales deeply, then lowers your hand to his parted mouth. He slips the tips of your index and middle fingers past his lips, and then swirls his tongue around the two digits.

The exact two that had been inside your pussy not even five minutes ago.

Right now, you think you could come from him sucking on your fingers and nothing else.

You don't even try to stop the groan that slips past your lips as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. He moans around them as he finishes cleaning them off, the sound sending vibrations up your arm and throughout your body.

You pull your fingers from between his lips and immediately crush your own lips to his in their place. You feel the drug surging through your veins, but this time it's less excruciating - it now feels like pure adrenaline bubbling under your skin, spurring you on.

He opens his mouth to you, your lips and tongue moving with his in synchronicity. It's hurried and messy, and maybe not as romantic as you had imagined it in your head before this night - but it's exactly what you need right now.

He maneuvers you so that you're laying down on the couch, and nestles himself between your thighs. You can feel the hard outline of his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. He ruts against you, dragging the bulge across your clothed center as he yanks your t-shirt up and over your head. He tosses it somewhere behind the couch before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and palming the other with the cool metal of his left hand.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling the full weight of his body down against you. You stick your hands up the back of his t-shirt, scratching your nails down the skin of his back.

“I need more,” you gasp out as he pinches your nipple between his teeth, rolling it in his lips. The clothing that separates the two of you feels like a prison. “I need to feel you.”

He pulls away, leaning back to perch on his knees between your legs. Your eyes roam down the chiseled planes of his chest until they land on the defined “V” shape that disappears into the waistband of his low-hanging pants.

He hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and underwear and tugging them both down past your ankles, then throwing them somewhere across the room with both of your long-forgotten shirts.

His eyes trail your body from your breasts to your thighs, his pupils dilating in the firelight. He splays his hands across the meat of your inner thighs, pinning your legs open wide for him. He lowers himself back down on the couch, belly down so his face hovers just above your pussy.

“Bucky, I swear if you don't put your mouth–”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle before his tongue slips between his lips. It darts to your hole, licking a soft strip up to your clit. You exhale a sharp hiss of pleasure, your hands shooting to lace your fingers through tendrils of his hair. You arch into his touch, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of your hips. He eats like you're the best thing he's ever tasted - like he's wanted this for way longer than this drug has been in your system.

You're coming on his face in an embarrassing amount of time, really. Thanks to the influence of the pollen, you currently have the stamina and endurance of a teenager losing their virginity. Your thighs are clenched around either side of his head, writhing above him as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

The relief that you feel as you come down from your high feels like years of pent up frustration leaving your body all at once.

You don't quite feel entirely like yourself - there's still a dull ache in your core, and your skin’s still feverish - though that could be due to the fire that the two of you are just feet away from. But you're now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Come here,” you whisper, your voice low and honeyed. He crawls over you, his chest brushing against yours as he centers himself above you. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat that mingles with your own. You reach a hand between your two bodies, palming his erection through the sweatpants that he has yet to shed. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as his eyes roll back into his head and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as you massage him through the fabric. Your other hand juts down to the waistband of his pants and you tug them downwards, far enough to help him shimmy them down to his knees.

His cock springs forward and he takes himself in his flesh hand, pumping his length several times before teasing your folds with his tip. He collects your slick along his length, lubricating himself before nudging his head just past your entrance.

You're more than ready for him - hours of desperation in addition to already having come on his face leaves you needing no further preparation before he's filling you up with his impressive length and girth. There's a slight burn at the sheer fullness of it, but there's also a wave of relief that your body has been craving for hours.

He pulls out halfway, then rocks back into you. He starts slow - trying to hold back for his own sake or for yours, you're unsure. Gradually, he increases his speed, hitting your cervix at that sweet angle that not everyone knows how to work. You lean forward, raising your head enough to capture his lips in yours once more.

You taste yourself on him - a dichotomy of sweet and salty mixed with something entirely unique. He brings his flesh hand in between your bodies, lowering his fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing pressured circles. You moan his name into his mouth and he responds by biting your lip between his teeth, his movements becoming messier.

“You gonna come on my cock?” he asks in a low growl when he feels your pussy clenching around him. “Gonna fill you up and make you feel all better.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge for the second time - that telltale warm coil in your belly bursting at the same time that he begins spilling his warmth into you.

He collapses, pinning you between his body and the couch beneath you. Starting at your shoulder, he peppers kisses along your collarbones and up your neck until he’s finally eye-level with you.

“We can do that again,” he says in a breathy voice, still inside you. “If you need to, that is. Or if you just want you.” There's a mischievous grin spread across his face and a twinkle in his eyes. It's the most carefree you've seen him since the two of you left New York to come here for this mission. You put your hands on his chest, jokingly attempting to shove him away from you.

“Oh, I don't think I need to,” you jab at him. “I'm feeling pretty great now, but thank you for your services.” He laughs, pulling out of you and sitting back against the couch. He pulls you up with him, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. “But I think I might want to again. You know, now that I'm no longer in excruciating pain.” He hums in agreement, stroking his flesh fingers across the side of your stomach.

“I'm glad you were the one here with me too, Bucky."

thank you for reading! i know sooo many people have done this trope, especially for bucky, but it's truly one of my all time favorites and i just needed to get this out of my system so i hope you all enjoyed

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

other works by me: oil & water • down bad • acquainted •

[dearlenore]

YOU NEVER ASKED • S.REID

SUMMARY: when the team requests additional funding from Strauss to upgrade their equipment due to multiple accidents related to their function, you reveal a secret they never would’ve guessed. Over the weeks following they

PAIRING: bau!reader x spencer

tags: cold!reader, established relationship, sugarbaby!spencer, rich reader, needy clingy spencer (even at work),

a/n: this was a request btw thru dm!! If you make a dm request it might take longer or less time entirely depending on if you’ve reposted my work before and I know you or your work and how interesting ur request is, sorry!! My brain is so scrambled

w/c: 1.1K

THE FIRST TIME your co workers saw the extent of your wealth was on a fairly ordinary day.

Spencer’s hand was wrapped around yours under the table.

It wasn’t unusual—Spencer always had to be touching you, whether it was a lingering brush of fingers, his arm slung around your waist, or his head resting against your shoulder after a long day. He wasn’t possessive, just clingy in a way that you had long since accepted, and honestly, found endearing.

Right now, his fingers were loosely laced with yours, thumb brushing absentminded circles against your skin as the team sat in the conference room, focused on a discussion with Strauss.

You were only half-listening. As the BAU’s new liaison, you had to be present for meetings like this, but the budget discussion wasn’t exactly riveting.

“We understand the financial constraints,” Hotch was saying, his voice level as he addressed Strauss, “but this is a necessary expense. We’ve had three major equipment failures in the past month alone.”

Morgan leaned forward. “Two of those put agents at risk. We got lucky, but next time? Maybe we won’t.”

Strauss sighed, clearly unimpressed but unwilling to outright deny the request. “The Bureau’s budget is already stretched thin. I’ll bring this to the director, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be approved.”

Without much thought, you spoke. “I’ll take care of it.”

The room went quiet.

Strauss blinked, turning her attention toward you. “Excuse me?”

You scrolled through something on your phone, barely looking up. “I’ll cover the cost. Just send me the final amount, and I’ll handle it.”

There was a brief pause before Morgan spoke. “You’re serious?”

You glanced at him, almost confused. “Yes.”

JJ, seated across from you, furrowed her brow. “That’s not exactly a small amount.”

“I know.”

Emily tilted her head slightly. “And you can just… do that?”

You finally set your phone down. “Mhm.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I gotta ask—how?”

Spencer, beside you, stiffened slightly. His grip on your hand didn’t loosen, but you could feel the tension in his posture.

You sighed, as if this was mildly inconvenient rather than a massive revelation. “My parents have money.”

Hotch studied you. “How much money?”

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly. “Enough.”

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Okay, but what does that mean? Are we talking ‘nice house in the suburbs’ rich or—”

Spencer finally spoke, voice quiet but firm. “…they’re from a long line of friends Ivy league founders”

That sent another wave of silence through the room.

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Emily smirked. “That does explain a lot.”

JJ shook her head, laughing. “And you never mentioned this before because…?”

You shrugged. “It’s not relevant.”

Garcia looked vaguely betrayed. “Not relevant? Not relevant? You have generational wealth, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

You gave her a flat look. “Would it have changed anything?”

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. “…Okay, maybe not, but still!”

Rossi, who had been listening with mild amusement, finally spoke. “If you’re willing to fund the upgrades, I don’t see why we’d turn it down.”

You nodded. “Just let me know the amount.”

Strauss, looking slightly thrown but not displeased, simply nodded. “I’ll coordinate with the Bureau’s finance department.”

With that, the discussion moved on and everyone but you and Spencer left the conference room.

Spencer, who had been silent throughout the latter half of the conversation, finally exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

You turned to him, lips twitching. “You okay?”

He huffed quietly, glancing at you. “You could’ve given me a heads-up.”

“Mhm, but what’s the fun in that?” You cooed before kissing his nose sweetly

The second time was when they caught you pampering your hopelessly adorable boyfriend.

Okay well… for the record.

Spencer Reid was not spoiled.

At least, that’s what he told himself. And everyone else.

Sure, his coffee appeared on his desk every morning, still piping hot from the overpriced café down the street. And yes, his wardrobe had significantly improved over the past few months—his old, slightly ill-fitting sweaters replaced with custom-tailored cashmere ones that felt suspiciously nice against his skin.

And maybe the watch on his wrist was worth more than the entirety of his apartment’s furniture.

But he wasn’t spoiled. Not at all.

The rest of the team, however, seemed to have reached a different conclusion.

“You know, pretty boy,” Morgan drawled, leaning against Spencer’s desk with a smirk, “I never pegged you as the type to have a personal assistant.”

Spencer frowned, looking up from his paperwork. “What?”

Morgan nodded toward the cup of coffee sitting on Spencer’s desk. “That your usual delivery?”

Spencer sighed, setting his pen down. “It’s just coffee.”

“From a place that charges twenty bucks for a latte,” Emily added, appearing behind Morgan with a grin.

Spencer huffed. “It’s not twenty dollars.”

“No, but it’s close,” JJ teased, leaning against the desk beside Morgan.

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, the sound of approaching footsteps caught everyone’s attention.

You walked into the bullpen, a small bag in hand, and made a beeline straight for Spencer’s desk.

“Hey,” you greeted, dropping the bag onto his desk before pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “Lunch.”

Spencer’s lips twitched in a smile as he peered inside the bag. His favorite Italian , a side of fruit, and—he pulled out the container—homemade cookies from the expensive French bakery he loved.

His heart swelled.

“Thank you,” he murmured, glancing up at you with something bordering on pure adoration.

You just smiled. “Of course.”

Morgan, JJ, and Emily exchanged a look before Morgan spoke. “Okay, I have to ask—how often does this happen?”

You tilted your head. “How often does what happen?”

“This.” He gestured to the coffee, the lunch, everything. “Bringing him food, buying him clothes—spoiling him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it spoiling.”

Emily scoffed. “Oh, it definitely is.”

Spencer crossed his arms, shifting slightly in his seat. “I am not spoiled.”

JJ smirked. “Reid, when was the last time you paid for your own coffee?”

Spencer hesitated.

Morgan grinned. “Exactly.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms. “What, am I not allowed to take care of my boyfriend?”

“Oh, you definitely are,” Emily said. “It’s just funny watching him try to pretend he’s not completely pampered.”

Spencer huffed. “I am not—”

“Pretty boy, you don’t even drive anymore.”

Spencer scowled. “That’s just practical. Why should I drive when I can be chauffeured—” He stopped, realizing his mistake immediately.

Morgan grinned. “Chauffeured?”

Emily outright laughed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

JJ patted his shoulder. “No, you don’t.”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, baby. Let them tease.”

Spencer groaned, but his cheeks were already tinged pink.

Yeah. He was never going to live this down.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

[cosmicdahlias]

And They Were Roommates

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Your roommate, Wade Wilson, brings home an alcoholic Canadian bastard with knifes in his knuckles. After a month of putting up with him, an argument between you two goes in an unexpected direction.

tags: hard drugs mention, marijuana mention, alcohol usage, age difference, enemies to lovers, slapping, claws, hate fucking, mdom/fsub, breeding, degradation, praise kink, belt usage, choking, p in v, knifeplay (counting claw usage as knifeplay lmao), blood, creampie, possible impreg, aftercare, oral, multiple orgasms (emphasis on multiple), overstimulation

i’ve recently started watching the xcu movies after deadpool and wolverine dropped on disney+ and MY GODDDDDD have i been missing out!!! i’ve been an mcu girlie for so long (plus deadpool). the x-men movies are so fun but alsoooooo uhhhh hugh jackman as logan??? HELLO??? i need this man biblically like it’s not even funny. i have yet to watch logan (2017) but i’ve seen edits on tiktok and WHOA MAMA talk about a silver fox!!! also fun fact male wolverines bite down on the female’s neck during mating and i couldn’t resist including that in this fic. animalistic logan is THE BEST logan 👌

You were Wade Wilson’s friend turned roommate. You first knew each other through your other roommate, Althea, a blind woman who went by Al. At one point in time you were Al’s dealer before giving up that life once you got your degree and found steady employment. You never dabbled in the devil’s dandruff like Al did, as with the rest of gen Z, your drug of choice was weed. Your friends often asked why you chose an old woman and a mutant in his forties as roommates, but honestly rent was cheap and that was all you cared about.

You hadn’t seen Wade in a few days, he mysteriously disappeared during his birthday party. Neither you, nor any of his friends had any idea what had happened to him. You knew he’d kinda hit a rough’ish point in his life, giving up his assassin alter ego by the name of Deadpool for becoming a car salesman. You wondered if he had gone off on some sort of bender, but you honestly didn’t know.

You had just gotten off of work and opened the door to your apartment. Getting home took longer than expected, half of your street was cordoned off, from the damage looked like a bombing was the cause. You sat on the couch and pulled out your phone, trying to see if the local news had covered what had happened when door unlocked and swung open.

Wade walked in, sporting the iconic red suit you hadn’t seen him wear in six years. He was carrying the most… unique looking dog you’d ever seen and he was accompanied by a man with a rugged appearance who was wearing pants of similar material as Wade’s suit and nothing else. The stench of blood permeated the room.

“Al, I’m back.” Wade said.

“She’s out. Dude, where the hell have you been?” You asked.

“Oh no big deal, just saved the entire multiverse from total annihilation. I’m Marvel Jesus now.” Wade answered.

You elected to ignore his explanation. You never knew why you asked what he’d gotten up to whenever he wore that suit, none of it ever made a lick of sense to you.

“Who’s the dog?”

“Her? This four legged scrotum is Mary Puppins, or as I like to call her, Dogpool. Something… unfortunate happened to her last owner, so I’m her papá now.” Wade said cheerfully.

Knowing him, he definitely had something to do with whatever happened to her previous owner, but that wasn’t what you were asking about.

“Cute, but I was talking about the washed up Abercrombie & Fitch greeter next to you.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Ohhhh, yeah that’s Logan. He’s gonna be crashing here for a while.”

“Wait, hold the fuck up. You disappear for days and you just show up in the suit you haven’t worn in years, reeking of blood, telling me some shirtless dude who also smells like blood is gonna live here like it’s no big deal?”

“Well funny thing is he doesn’t exactly know anyone else around here, not really his fault since I had to pull him from his universe and bring him here to save ours. May or may not have done so to a choir rendition of Madonna. You know, typical multiverse stuff and whatnot. I mean we’re Disney property now and that’s the horse they’re beating to death at the moment.” Wade answered.

Once again ignoring the exposition dump, you continued to protest.

“You can’t be serious, Wade! This is a two bed apartment. You and Al already share a room, so where the fuck are you gonna put him?”

“Isn’t that a couch you’re sitting on?” Logan scoffed.

“Oh perfect, so I can’t even use the goddam living room anymore?” You asked, growing even more irritated by Logan’s input.

“Jesus, you’re just a fuckin’ princess, aren’t you?” Logan huffed.

You glared at him before turning your attention back to Wade.

“Do I literally not get a say in this like at all? Even though I live here and pay my share of the rent?”

“Look, I promise it’s temporary. Just until he gets his footing in this universe. It won’t be so bad, I mean look him, total eye candy.” Wade said, gripping Logan’s face and turning his head to you.

Logan gave him a look that could kill. Long metal claws sprung out from just below his knuckles. Your eyes widened.

“THE FUCK ARE THOSE?” You shouted.

“Riiiiiiiight, so those are adamantium claws. They ain’t vibranium, but hey, can’t always be the number one. He’s a bonafide animal, in more ways than one, maybe you’ll find out for yourself.” Wade said, you could tell he was winking underneath his mask.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” Logan growled.

“Yeah, what?” You asked.

“Hey, I know sexual tension when I see it.” Wade retorted.

“I literally just met him.” You said.

“Yeah and with Hugh Jackman’s face and body, the time between introduction and need for face riding is a matter of seconds.” Wade said.

You gave a quick glance at Logan. Sure, he was incredibly attractive, but you sensed a sort of emotional unavailability that put you off. You had standards.

“You know my type and he’s not it, Wade.” You insisted.

“Forget type, he’s THE Wolverine. You know how many fanfics people read about this guy? Lookin’ at you, reader.” Wade said.

“Whatever, I’m not getting into a debate over my preferences for men.” You said, walking to your room and slamming the door.

“I think that went well.” Wade said.

-

A month had passed and much to your dismay, you were still being forced to share the apartment with Logan. At the very least he’d upgraded to wearing a shirt instead of walking around with his top half exposed.

After getting home from an exhausting shift at work, you opened the fridge, looking for the bottle of wine you saved for those evenings after a particularly long day. It was nowhere to be seen and you immediately knew who the culprit was.

“For fuck’s sake, Logan!” You shouted.

You headed to the living room to confront what was supposed to be your temporary roommate who sat on the couch.

“Christ, what now?” He groaned.

“Where the fuck is my wine?”

“Hm? Oh that? Yeah, it’s gone.” He answered dismissively, almost like taking time to respond or even look at you was beneath him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your barely functioning alcoholic ass away from my stuff?”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I specifically told you not to touch that fucking bottle multiple times.”

“Must’ve not been able to distinguish what you said from your typical bitching, I usually just tune that shit out.” He said, still not making eye contact with you.

“Jesus you really have no respect for anyone.” You spat.

Logan stood, coming in way too close for your liking.

“Respect? That’s a really funny word coming from someone who doesn’t respect themselves enough to not wear short little skirts like the one you’re wearing, bending over all the time to show off that ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh you fuckin’ heard me. You think I don’t see what you’re doing with the clothes you wear, or when you come out in the morning in nothing but a shirt and panties because you think I’m asleep and won’t notice?”

“Back the fuck up, the hell do you mean by ‘think’ you’re asleep?”

“I barely sleep enough as it is, I’m awake the second I hear your door open. You have any idea what seeing you like that does to me?”

You blushed.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Please, you do it because you hope I’m watching you. I see the way you look at me. You can say you hate me all you fuckin’ want, but I can smell your goddam pheromones from across the room. I’ve been around for over two centuries and have more than enough experience to know when someone wants me. Especially when they’re acting like as much of a slut as y-“

You slapped him hard across the face. Logan immediately responded by pushing you up against the wall, unsheathing his claws and holding them under your chin. Neither of you said anything, the only sounds being a mix of him and you panting in anger.

Fuck, you had really grown to hate him, but something about his claws so dangerously close to you was playing into your kinks. You stole a glance down under, holy shit he was hard. You grabbed him by the face, kissing him aggressively. His claws retracted and he let his hands travel to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmf- fuckin’ knew it.” He said between kisses.

Logan picked you up by the underside of your thighs and carried you to your bedroom, his lips never once leaving you. He threw you down onto the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and unhooking your bra, tossing it aside. He took in the sight of your exposed chest.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, babygirl.”

His rough, calloused hand cupped your breast. He leaned down and you gave a yelp as he bit and tugged your nipple.

Logan chuckled. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

You kissed him as you pulled his shirt off and traced your fingers along the dip between his abs. He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock, he laughed at your reaction.

“Yeah, like it don’t you?” He smirked.

“How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this if you’re gonna tear me in half?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it like that, I can tell you like it rough.”

“That’s a bold assumption to make.”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourself that.”

Logan pulled off your skirt and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs. He looked at your pussy with pure animalistic lust.

“Fuuuck babygirl, look how wet you already are for me. You got it that bad for older men, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You retorted.

“Oh I don’t have to, the way you’re dripping says more than enough.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

You laid back on the bed with your head against the pillow and Logan flipped you over on your stomach, pulling you up to your hands and knees.

“No, you don’t get missionary. You act like a bitch? You’re getting fucked like one.”

Logan reached for his belt, he raised it, bringing it down sharply on your ass, making you squeal.

“This is what you get for being such a fuckin’ brat. From now on you call me ‘sir’, understand?”

“Like hell I will.“

He lashed you again.

“Keep talking back and see what happens. Now, what do you say?”

“Y- yes sir.”

“There you go. I’ll be nicer if you listen to me… maybe.”

Logan looped the belt around your neck.

“I’m keeping you on a leash in case you continue making smart comments.” He smirked.

“As if that’s gonna shut m- hrrrk!”

He pulled it tight, the leather dug into your skin and constricted your throat. The most you could get out was a strained moan.

“Got nothin’ to say to me now, huh? C’mon, tell me how much you hate me.” Logan mocked as he pulled harder.

You looked back at him and mouthed “fuck you”.

He laughed. “Oh I will.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against your slit for a fraction of a second before sharply forcing his full length deep inside you, causing you to cry out as his intimidating girth stretched you wide. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, the sounds of your yelps and squeaks filling the room.

“Poor thing, am I hurting you? It’s okay, I’m only fucking you senseless.” He teased.

His free hand gripped your ass, nails digging into your skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. It’s like your little pussy was made for my cock.” He grunted.

Logan leaned down, sucking your neck, leaving mark after mark, his hand letting the belt loosen.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all marked up by me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you seriously giving me hickeys? Really? What are you thirtee- ngh!”

Logan pulled tight on his belt again, keeping you from finishing your snide remark.

His thrusts became more aggressive, and as much as your feelings about Logan confused you, his cock felt incredible. You moved yourself back on him and he growled in approval.

“Yeah that’s it, take this fat cock like a perfect little slut. So good for me.”

He let go of the belt, both hands moving to your hips. His pace became punishingly fast and brutal. Between his growls and the way he fucked you like a dog, he honestly seemed more animal than man.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ breed you, I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not.”

You whimpered and tightened around him at his words. He smirked.

“Oh you like that?”

You nodded.

“Yeah? You wanna get knocked up? Tell me you want it, babygirl. Lemme hear you say it.”

“I need you to cum in me, get me pregnant. Please.” You begged.

He stopped his thrusts with only his head remaining inside you. He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you up against him, pressing his chest to your back.

“Please, what?” He commanded.

“Please, sir.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress and slammed himself fully back inside you, immediately resuming his vicious pace.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

He panted like a wild animal, his claws slowly extending as he grew close.

“S- shit, sorry. Happens sometimes.” He said.

You tightened around him.

“Use them on me, hurt me, sir. Please, I need it so bad.” You whined.

“Goddam, you’re a fuckin’ freak. Aren’t ya, babygirl?”

He raked his claws down your back, you moaned obscenely loud as pearls of blood formed from the long slits he’d created. The mere sensation of it all immediately caused you to cum on his cock. The feeling of you pulsing around his shaft pushed him over the edge. He grunted as he buried himself to the hilt and leaned over, biting down hard on your neck, capillaries breaking under your skin. His cock throbbed with every rope of cum he shot into you.

“Fuuuuckin’ Christ, it’s not often I find someone that’s as into the hardcore stuff as me.” He chuckled.

Your whole body shook and you collapsed onto the mattress on your stomach. Logan removed his belt from your neck and got off the bed.

“Stay there, don’t move.” He said, pulling on his jeans and leaving the room.

He returned five or so minutes later with gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a wet hand towel.

“Had to really dig around for some of this stuff, when two out of four roommates regenerate there’s not a real demand.“

Logan got back onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So what’s it like? To not heal immediately?” He asked as he dabbed at the blood on your back.

“I dunno, I never really thought about it. I guess you just deal with the pain for a few days, weeks, or months depending on what it is until it’s fine again.”

Logan chuckled.

“Sometimes I forget just how fragile everyone else is, until the world reminds me of it again and then…” He trailed off.

You could tell there was a heaviness to the latter half of his words, you knew why. Wade had told you that in Logan’s universe (a concept which took weeks for you to fully grasp) every single one of his fellow mutants had been murdered. You didn’t know the details, but you didn’t need to for you to understand why he was the way that he was. You looked up at him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You said softly.

“What do you-“ his brow furrowed. “What did Wade tell you?” He growled as he covered his claw marks with gauze.

“Don’t get mad, I just- I wanted to know why you act like-“

“A dick?” He scoffed, pulling out a few inches of medical tape from the roll.

“Like someone with severe trauma.”

He went silent and looked away from your gaze as he finished adding the last line of tape to secure the gauze.

“…You’re all patched up.”

You moved to get up and dress yourself, but Logan wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back onto the mattress.

“No, c’mere. Lay back for me.”

“Do I still have to call you ‘sir’?

“It’s alright, you can call me ‘Logan’ again. This is about making you feel good, not me. I think I owe you one for being such a good girl.”

You laid with your head against the pillow and Logan began to kiss his way down the length of your body until his head was between your thighs. His lips were so close to your pussy that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“Didn’t peg you for the kinda guy that gives head.”

“You thought wrong. I’m eating this pussy until you’re shaking for me.”

His lips met your clit, his tongue rolling and circling it. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Fuckin’ Christ, your scent is addictive.” He growled against you, making you shudder as the deep vibrations went straight to your clit.

You bucked your hips and he moved his hands to them, keeping you in place.

“Eeeeasy there. I know it feels good, but you can’t move around like that if I’m gonna eat you out, babygirl.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them at just the right spot to absolutely send you over the edge. Your breath shuddered as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. C’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You gripped his hair harder as you came undone on his tongue, pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuuuuuck, Logan!”

Your back arched off the bed, he pressed a hand to your stomach, holding you down.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

He continued sucking and licking your clit, his fingers fucking you hard and fast. You shook, feeling a second orgasm build. Your head cocked back as all of the nerves in your body ignited in pleasure for a second time. You expected Logan to remove his mouth, but he kept going.

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re just too goddam perfect when you cum.”

You moaned loudly, your clit throbbing in his mouth as you came for a third time, cursing like a sailor and writhing against his tongue.

“You doing good there, babygirl?” Logan asked.

“Uh-huh.” You murmured.

At some point everything went hazy and you lost track of just how many times he’d made you cum. The more you had, the quicker the next one came, until it was one immediately after another. You were a shaking, stuttering mess.

“L- Logan, I ca- an’t keep going. I- it’s too m- much.”

“Shhh, you’re okay. Just one more time, I promise.”

He pumped his fingers relentlessly, his tongue working your clit at an equally vigorous pace. Every muscle in your body tensed as the most intense orgasm you had ever felt in your life rocked you to your very core and everything went white for a moment.

“Ohhhhh godddd, Logan. You’re gonna fucking kill meeee.” You groaned.

Logan moved himself to get on top of you, kissing you deeply.

“I’m sorry babygirl. I know I pushed you hard, but you did so well for me.” He whispered softly, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He laid next to you, pulling you to him, his chest pressed against your back as your post orgasm haze finally subsided.

“Never saw you as the cuddling type.” You said.

“Depends on how I feel about whoever I’m fucking, and unfortunately for me I’m starting to actually like you.”

“And what did I do to deserve that?”

“Well, you’re still a total bitch, but you’re actually pretty sweet when you want to be. I like you that way though, makes things interesting. I’ll admit when you slapped me I got so fuckin’ hard.”

“So, you’re saying I should slap you more often?”

“I’m not saying no, but just expect to lose the ability to walk after I fuck it out of you.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good. Now, there’s something you should know. Regeneration doesn’t just mean that I heal quickly.” He said, pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against you.

“Holy shit, so… we could fuck all night without stopping?”

“Exactly.”

“Then what the hell are we doing just lying here?”

Logan turned you onto your back, getting on top of you.

“Attagirl, let’s fuckin’ go.”

-

The two of you spent the whole night fucking like rabbits nonstop. When morning came you made your way to the kitchen. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind as you made yourself a cup of coffee. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“I hope you know I’m never gonna get enough of you.” He said, his hands traveling underneath your shirt to your breasts.

“I swear, you’re hornier than a dog that hasn’t had his balls chopped off.” You teased.

“Yeah and you love it.”

“There you go with the assumptions again, you’re so right though.” You purred, turning to him.

“I know I am.”

His lips met yours and he lifted you onto the counter. You laced your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around him. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the sound of a door opening. Wade walked out from the room he shared with Al carrying Mary Puppins.

“Judging by the NC-17 noises I heard all night I’m guessing you two had fun.” Wade said, causing you to jump and pull away from Logan.

“For fuck’s sake, do you not know when to leave people alone?” Logan huffed.

“Oh c’mon peanut, you know boundaries aren’t my forte. It’s my toxic trait.”

Logan glared at him.

“Alright alright, I can take a hint. Just try not to get any fluids on the appliances. I certainly don’t mind a little Wolvie in my coffee, but I don’t think Al would appreciate it.” Wade said, heading back to his room.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his lips brushing against yours.

“Now, babygirl, where were we?”

[parfaitblogs]

as time goes by ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you funnel through photographic memories of what once was, now isn't, but might still be.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst & smut (18+ mdni) tags: what isn't there? meet cute. burnt toast theory if you squint. right person wrong time. soft dom!spencer. first time. p in v. fingering. praise. fade to black oral (f receiving). mommy issues. anxious attachment reader. past alcohol consumption. argument. + angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort. word count: 9.8k a/n: i know i said this was 8k but then i just kept writing and writing and writing and writing and writing... enjoy my angels!! this truly took a piece of my soul to write. a short playlist of what i listened to while writing this <3

"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you." (Azra T)

February

It was a dreary burst of continuous rain and the threat of a thunderstorm that landed you in this predicament. 

Grey storm clouds that darkened the entire city even at the early hour of seven in the morning. There was a soft glow in one of the clusters of clouds where the sun was attempting to peek through, a striking metaphor for the way your life currently felt. Rays of sunshine barely piercing the sky enough to make an impression on the otherwise miserable day. 

You were late for work. Your usually easy morning routine replaced by bus delays due to the traffic on the roads, and trains canceled due to faults in the signalling.

You were barely halfway up the stairs to your platform when it happened. 

If you were any less focussed on keeping the ends of your jeans off the damp concrete, you wouldn't have spotted the drop of the blue and green SmarTrip card dropping to the step in front of you, from a leather messenger bag that was frantically swinging on someone's shoulder. 

You pick it up without even thinking, concerned by the fact that its owner hadn't even noticed. Which meant you'd have to experience the God awful awkward interaction of handing it back to them, and the even more awful small talk conversation that followed. 

The platform stretched out in front of you, and you were rushing to tap his shoulder before he could get too far away from you. A mop of messy curls turned, and never mind the fact that he was a stranger; he was hot. 

He's confused, and you watch him begin to think the tapping was a mistake, and you were just too rude to apologise for it. 

"Hi," you burst out, holding the card out in front of you. "Sorry. Is this yours?" 

"Oh," his expression is replaced with relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you."

You force an awkward smile onto your face, and he matches it with his own. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you thank God he was one of those awkward attractive guys — not an asshole. 

Then again, this was a two second interaction, and you didn't know him. Delusion would be your downfall. 

The train was overly crowded that morning. The traffic of two trains packed into one, resulting in barely any seats, and even less standing room. 

Thankfully, you had gotten one at the back of one of the carriages, which meant you could watch as multiple people walk past you, thinking there'd be more further down. Only to be sorely disappointed, but too stuck to come back and get the seat beside you they had spotted. 

"Oh. Hello again."

You lift your head at the voice, metro card man standing awkwardly next to the seat next to you. 

"Hey," you reply, heart rate skyrocketing. Just your luck.

"Is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," he asks, and even if there were six other free seats away from you, you'd let him. 

He sits when you nod, and you adjust your bag on the floor in front of you as he does the same, the messenger bag hugged firmly atop his lap. 

"Thank you for catching my card," he says, and you aren't sure if he's trying to make small talk because he's interested, or because he feels too bad to not. 

Your heart decides to go with the former. 

"It's no problem," you shake your head. "If I ever lost my metro card I'd probably have a panic attack in the middle of the station. So... y'know..." Why did you say that?

His chest shakes with quiet laughter anyways, and he's nodding in agreement, but you're sure he doesn't really understand what you mean. He doesn't seem like the type of person to have a panic attack in the middle of a train station.

"Are you headed to DC?" he then asks, and delusion be damned if this isn't him interested in you. 

You nod your head. "That's where this train is going, yes."

He pauses in a reply. "Well, yes, but there's stops along the way. You could be getting off at any of those." You fall silent at his words. That was true. "But you're not. You're going to DC."

"I am," you confirm your destination of the day for the second time, and your brain wonders if telling this inherent stranger where you were planning on going was a wise choice. Probably not. He didn't seem like a serial killer, at least. Then again, your judgement wasn't always the best.

"I am too," he says, lips pulling into the same awkward smile he had earlier, when you'd given him his metro card back. 

"We have so much in common," you joke, but you aren't sure if it lands. For he's blinking awkwardly, and then he must recognise you're trying to joke, because his chest puffs in a laugh. Pity laughter was still laughter. 

"We do."

It takes an entire train ride of conversation for you to muster up any courage at all, and it's only when he's about to step out into the aisle to disappear into his own world, and you into yours, that you blurt out,

"Do you want to get coffee?"

He blinks a few times, but then he's nodding his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

At his approval, you ask, "Could I get your number? Y'know, to... plan... this coffee date..."

Metro man, whose name you've since learned is Spencer, nods again, and he's rummaging in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. The pen he finds, the paper he does not, and you simply tell him to write his number down on your hand. 

Delusions were fuelled quite easily when you're a hopeless romantic, and the immediate flutter of your heart when his hand holds yours in place so he could write on your skin was enough to convince you this man was your soulmate. 

You part ways from each other, feeling a little giddier, and a lot less like the storm clouds still swirling over your head. 

March

Even the quietest of sounds were catastrophically loud when you were in that middle ground between being awake, and being asleep. And the muffled sound of a tap turning on was as loud as a raging thunderstorm, in the early hours of that Saturday morning, startling you awake from the comfortable sleep you had been in. 

It took you a few more minutes to fully come to consciousness, but by that point, you had registered what tap was on and why, and your fears of an unfamiliar scent surrounding you as you awaken were diminished. 

"Oh. Morning."

Your eyes flutter open to see a slightly shocked Spencer Reid standing at the foot of his bed, collecting the bundled socks he had set on the mattress. 

"What're you doing?" you ask him, tiredly, rolling onto your back and blocking the bright sunlight with your arm. 

"Going to work," he answers. "I have paperwork I need to catch up on," he then adds, at your puzzled expression.

"Oh," you pout immediately, your heart sinking at the knowledge that he was leaving you. 

"I'll be home by three," he promises, moving around and crouching down by the edge of the bed, next to your head.

"You want me to stay here?" you ask him, rolling over to look at him.

His eyes bore into your own, and you search his face, his cologne mixing with the scent of his sheets beneath your head, making your head go a little fuzzy. 

He brushes hair out of your face. "You can if you want. There's food in the fridge, and I bought copies of your toiletries for when you do... stay over..." he stammers to a stop, brain catching up to his mouth. "Sorry. Is that weird?"

"No," your lips pull into a smile. "No. It's really sweet, actually."

"And there's clean clothes in my dryer," he continues at your reassurance. "Since you said you like my shirts. I mean, you don't have to, obviously. But I'll only be gone six hours, and then I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and I know you do too, so I just figured—"

You cut him off with a kiss. Perhaps not the best time to kiss him, for you're pretty sure you have a bad case of morning breath. If you do, he doesn't protest. In fact, he melts even further into your lips. 

"I'll stay," you tell him.

"Okay," his eyes light up a little, and your cheeks hurt from how wide you're smiling. You're sure you look ridiculous. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye," you say, catching him for one more kiss, until he's closer to being late for work than anything, and he's tearing himself away from you. Forcefully, because he doesn't really want to. 

He comes home six and a half hours later to his home smelling distinctly of a candle he forgot he even owned, and whatever it was in his fridge you had managed to create a dish out of. 

He wonders if it's too soon to feel love for you. 

April

A night out was, arguably, the last thing you had expected to do when you woke up that morning. In fact, you had spent the entire day with plans to stay in your sanctuary of a bedroom with a shitty television series playing to detach from the past few weeks. Your life was busy, and you felt as though you had no time to yourself. Technically, you did. But your days off never consisted of an entire day in your bed without any responsibilities. 

It seemed that even on your planned day off, you couldn't get that. Granted you weren't mad, come six o'clock, because despite talking about how excited you were for your day off to him, the second Spencer Reid had mentioned restaurant and dinner in your morning phone call as he commuted to work, you were begging him to fulfil the plans he was about to cancel. 

He had stayed afterwards. Of course he had. You'd be damned if the man who had just taken you to the nicest restaurant you've ever been to in your life didn't stay over afterwards. And he was quite happy to, it seemed, which made your heart flutter a little more than it probably should've.

"Have you read Emily Dickinson?" you ask him, looking up at his face. You were now in your bed, covers draped over your entwined legs, his back up against the headboard of your bed, your own on his chest. 

"Yes," he nods his head, lips twitching at the way your face fell upon his response. "Did you think I hadn't?"

"No, I guess I assumed you had," you shook your head. "A small part of me didn't know for sure, though."

"Now you know," he says, eyes falling to the televison that had a silent cartoon playing on it (your choice, not his). "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," your lips curl into a smile. "Did you?"

"I always do with you," he leans down and pecks the smile off your face, watching your lips frown when he pulls back. "What?"

He laughs at the pout on your lips, and your eyes narrow in response. In a quick motion, your legs and arms wrap around him, bodies now facing each other, as you return your lips to his. 

"Was my kiss not up to your standards?" he muses against your mouth, and you poke his shoulder with a finger as a response, incessantly begging him to kiss you back.

You had done this before. Multiple times, in fact. Making out with Spencer was slowly but surely becoming your favourite past time. You weren't entirely sure what it was about it. Perhaps the way he kissed like he'd never be able to kiss again, always with so much fervour, and always so desperate. Maybe it was the way his hands felt when they grappled the entirety of your ass whenever you were on his lap, something that seemed so not Spencer Reid. Whatever it was, it was maddening, and you found a quiet, controlled mewl leave your lips when his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to him (if that was possible).

"Mm-mm," he murmurs against your lips at the sound, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, eliciting another, less controlled sound from you. "You can do better than that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you mumble against his lips, semi-breathless, hands delving up into his curls, encasing your fingers in them.

He laughs again, the sound addicting, and melting any anxieties away as his fingers travel up your body, beneath your pyjama shirt, stopping short where your bra strap would be if you were wearing one. 

"We don't have to," you rush out when you feel his hesitance. Though you were no stranger to this part of making out – the suggestive touching – you could feel the bulge in his pants, and you realised this was not like every other time.

"You don't want to?" he asks with a gentle voice, pulling back to look at you.

"No, I–of course I do," you reassure him.

His lips tug into a small smile, and his face leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. "Okay. Good. I want to, as well."

"Good," you answer with a firm nod, and he hums. 

His hands slip beneath your shirt again. Warm – burning, even – though you weren't particularly cold. Yet, you felt like your skin was ice that was melting beneath his fingers as they dragged along your skin. All while his lips kissed down your jawline and neck, until they found your pulse point. He had found it accidentally a few weeks prior, and had used and abused it as much as he could after that. For no reason other than the fact that you let out the sweetest sounds whenever his teeth grazed over it, or his lips sucked on the skin there.

His hands reached further up, and his palms brush over both nipples at once, eliciting a gasp from you as your back arches into him. 

"Sensitive," he notes when his thumbs drag down over them, pulling the same reaction from your lips. You shoot him a sharp glare, and he laughs. His response is then to lean back in and kiss the pout away, gently biting down on your jutted lower lip with his teeth. All while he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning a whimper from you into his mouth.

It was a few more moments of that, before you murmur quietly, "Tell me you're taking this further." 

He laughs in response. Then, says, "What do you want?"

"Up to you," you reply, and he shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it. 

"No. Up to us."

"Okay. Um..." you hesitate. "Surely there's a natural order of things."

"I don't know. I think it depends on the people," he replies. "Tell me what you want to do."

You hesitate. There's a thousand things you want from him, and you're sure the mere twenty-four hours in the day are not enough for them all. Though, you also know time is not running out for the two of you soon. 

Recognising your hesitance, he instead taps your hips to get you off his lap, and you comply, and he lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you, and you almost laugh at his hair that falls down and creates a curtain over your two faces. 

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt over your body, and you let him, your breath hitching at the still less-than-hot air that settles in your room amidst April. He follows suite and removes his own shirt upon seeing your close to demanding look, before he ducks his head down to kiss you again. 

Fingers dance across the skin of your waist as he hesitates in pulling your pants down, but you don't even want to complain as he kisses you. In no rush to hurry him along, you savour his lips on yours, allowing him to take the time to work you up with brushes along your thigh through the fabric of your pants. 

You were equally as present as you were lost in a daydream as he touches you, for you don't really remember when your legs had become bare and his touch had become more direct, but you remember exactly what it felt like for his breath to hitch against your ear as he ran a finger down the damp fabric of your underwear. 

He seems to have picked up on your dreamlike state, for he brushes his lips against your temple and asks, "You with me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly. 

He doesn't really believe you, but you're eagerly inching your hips closer towards his retreating hand for him to need to. 

Gently, he's pulling your underwear down your legs, and you're watching the pupils in his dark eyes expand. You relish in the knowledge of you emitting such a reaction from him. 

A sharp whine comes from you when his finger brushes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit. He does it again. 

"Spencer."

"Yeah, pretty girl?" he murmurs, though his focus is solely directed to his hand on you.

"Need you."

"I can see that," he muses, and he jolts at the way your heel kicks his side. You're pretty sure it doesn't hurt, at least. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You should be."

His other hand pinches your thigh.

You don't have time to argue against him, for he is sinking a finger into you, and every word dies on your tongue, replaced only by a quiet moan and the breathless sound of his name. 

He lifts himself back up your body as he presses his finger further into you, capturing your second moan with his lips against yours. Again. He would probably swallow you whole if you asked him to. You think you might. 

He adds a second finger almost too soon. His fingers were longer than yours ever could be, and he curls them in a way that has your head tilting back and pressing into the pillow beneath it, and your hips rising off the mattress. He chases your lips with his as you squirm away, and his free hand pushes your body back into the mattress as he draws his fingers out, then presses them back into you. 

"Didn't know you were this sensitive," he murmurs against your mouth, and your teeth nip at his lower lip in protest. You feel him smile, and he returns the gesture, scoldingly. 

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you're pretty sure you see stars. Or perhaps that's just the ends of Spencer's hair tickling your cheeks as he continues to kiss you. 

He continues to finger you until it becomes its own language, complete with strings of high pitched moans from you, and his inability to keep you still on the bed. He pulls his fingers out all too soon, and you're verbally complaining about it as he takes his own pants off. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks you, but there's no heat behind his voice for you to seek insecurity from. 

"I talk when I'm nervous," you reply. 

"Are you always nervous?"

"Around you? Yes."

He doesn't reply, but he laughs, bashfully, and you know he finds it endearing. Instead, he says, "I need to go get a condom."

At which your eyebrows shoot up. "Did you bring some?"

He pauses, sheepishly replying, "Yes?"

You decide against teasing him for it, and merely nod your head. "Okay."

He doesn't waste time, but you're left laying there on the bed to watch him, stuck within the thoughts of how did you luck out so well? 

He's quick to return your mind back to Earth, and in a quick turn of events, he's positioned back over you, condom wrapper discarded somewhere in your room — you'd need to find that later before it gets found by somebody mortifying — and his hips achingly close to your own. 

Lowering your gaze instinctively, your lips part, and you mutter a, "What the fuck?"

"Tone, please," he asks you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Bad. But good," you confuse him further, before you settle on, "Shock."

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes," you quickly confirm. "Just... scared. I guess. I haven't had sex in a while and you're..." Not small.

"I'll go slow," he promises, and your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. 

Slowly, he eases himself into you, swallowing your moans all over again with a kiss, hands rubbing gentle circles onto your hips as a welcome distraction. It was borderline filthy as he moans into your ear in harmony with your own.

You hear him murmuring from above you, your ears catching the whispering of numbers and statistical facts you've definitely heard him spewing to himself before. But never in bed. Usually, it would be as he situates at his desk to work. 

"What're you doing?" you murmur, and he pauses upon realising he was thinking aloud. 

"Trying not to come so soon," he answers, kissing your jawline, a shuddering breath leaving him to rest his head in that position. 

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocks. "You just feel so good around me. Can't believe I went so long without you, angel girl. Fuck."

You wish you could tell the you many moons ago that this is how the man you met at the train station would talk to you. 

He's slow as he withdraws his hips from you, before he's pushing himself back into you with yet another moan, from both him and you.

You're not sure when your causal moans break into whines and desperation overtakes you. Somewhere between him taking his time in getting to know what you liked, and discovering how easy it was to make you squirm if he just put a finger on your clit at the same time as thrusting into you. 

He is so good it's almost sickening, and you begin to entertain the idea of this man being your soulmate once again. Or perhaps he's just really good at seeing right through you, which might be a little embarrassing in retrospect. 

"Spencer," you moan, hands looping around his neck, delving into his hair and nails scratching gently at his scalp. 

"Mm?" he asks you, pressing another kiss to your head, drawing circles on your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

"Please."

"Please what, honey?"

"Wanna—" you're cut off with a wanton whine, "—come. Please."

"You do? Really?" 

"Spencer," you repeat his name, this time frustratedly.

"That's no way to ask for what you want," he wanes his movements ever so slightly, a silent warning. 

"Please make me come."

"There you go, good girl," he mumbles, and he smiles at the way your hips jerk slightly at the praise. 

He complies with your request immediately, though you're sure it has something to do with how quickly his own hips stutter into a stop with an orgasm of his own. 

Never one to complain, though, and you let him work you through the star-seeing experience with broken moans and chants of his name that has his own heart fluttering. 

He rolls off of you soon after, disappearing from the bed only to dispose of the condom, before he's climbing back into the bed. Regardless of every bone in his body telling him to get you up to shower. 

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" you murmur.

"I don't know," he replies, lips moving against the skin of your forehead. 

"Can we do it again?"

His breath is warm as he huffs out a laugh, rolling back over top of you, thankful for his lack of asking to shower. "Yes."

June

There's a comfortable quiet that blankets the air around you and Spencer. The pages of his book turning as he flips them every few seconds, and the quiet murmur of characters Ilsa and Sam talking on the television, Casablanca playing at an awfully quiet volume. 

He was sitting on the floor in front of you, who was sitting on the couch, fingers entangled in his hair. Freshly washed, because you were adamant on fixing him a proper hair routine now that his hair was long enough to require something remotely akin to your own.

His head lifts as the piano began to play, and the familiar voice of Dooley Wilson filled the space, his reading of his book now on pause.

"Spencer!" you began to protest when he peeled away from the edge of the couch, the criss-cross pattern in his hair falling loose almost immediately. He turns to look at you, noting the page he was on for his book, before he closes it and places it on the coffee table in front of him. 

"What are you doing to my hair?" he asks you, hands going up to feel the strands, eyebrows frowning towards each other at the loose plaits he was touching. 

"I was braiding it," you grumble, watching as he brushes each strand out unconsciously. "You've ruined it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he muses upon realising what he had done, lips twitching as his hands drop back by his side. "Do you want to redo it?"

"No," you huff, scooting further back into the couch, folding your arms across your chest. 

"Honey," Spencer says amidst a laugh, turning his body around fully. 

Instead of acknowledging him, you kept your eyes fully transfixed on the black and white television screen in front of you. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, the sight of him shifting on the floor. 

Perhaps it was cruel to be giving him the silent treatment so quickly. Though, you have a small smile painted on your face that told Spencer he wasn't in any real trouble with you for pulling your otherwise perfectly curated braids out of his hair. Unknowingly, mind you.

With your lack of response, he found his hands wandering over to your legs, fingertips trailing delicately up the sides of them. Despite the pyjama pants you had on providing a layer between his skin and your own, you still squirmed. And, much to his own satisfaction, your gaze flickered down to his face. His stupid, grinning face, that told you he knew he had succeeded oh so easily. 

"I'm mad at you," you bite, and his eyebrows rose. 

"You're mad at me," he parrots. When you glare at him, he's forced to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Okay. Can I make it up to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

No, you weren't. For his head was resting gently against the side of your thigh now, the slightest hint of a pout on his lips, eyes wide. To absolutely nobody's surprise, your resolve was dissolving, and you found yourself hesitating with a response to him. 

He wasn't oblivious to your hesitance, and the amusement on his face was almost frustrating. Almost, if not for the teasing drag of his fingertips along the sides of your thighs distracting you from the irritation you had towards him.

But, you held your own. "Yes, I'm sure."

His eyebrows rising told you he didn't believe you, and it took everything in you not to respond with the twitch of a sheepish grin. And under his unbelieving gaze, you let out a huffed sigh, and shook your head. 

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he answers, fingertips gently pressing into your lower back as he tugged you towards the edge of the couch. "So I can make it up to you?"

"Maybe," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. "What're my options, Dr. Reid?"

"I could take your clothes off," he says, punctuating his point with his fingers sliding around to your waist, hooking under your pants' waistband. "Or you can choose something else."

"I like option one," you answer, meekly. 

"I figured you would."

He was frustratingly slow as he pulls your pyjama pants down, the fabric catching on the leather of his couch you were sitting on, until you had enough conscious mind to lift your hips up for him.

He trails his fingers back up the skin, eyes almost fascinated in watching you squirm as your inner thighs — and only your inner thighs — received the upmost of attention from his hands. At a whining protest from you, Spencer's hands wandered to do the one thing he knew you were after, and you let out a breathy moan when his index finger traced up the centre of your already damp underwear.

"Oh, you do like option one," he says with a hum, and if you were any less turned on, you'd probably be glaring at him for it. Instead, you were nodding your head in compliant agreement. 

He, thankfully, wastes no time in latching his mouth onto you. He spends a good portion of your evening taking you to the stars and back, multiple times, before he's satisfied, and he's sure you are too. 

You're showered (again), and curled up on the couch, your head now in Spencer's lap as his fingers brush through your hair, the beginning of Casablanca beginning to play all over again. You had protested neither of you appreciated it enough the first time, and you want to give the film its proper treatment. 

"Why do you like this film so much?" he murmurs, staring at the black and white screen. 

"Reminds me of better times, I guess," you reply. 

"Your better times take place in Morocco in the forties?" 

"No," your lips twitch into a small smile, your head shaking, hair brushing across his thighs. "When I first watched this film I was fifteen, with my mom. It was one of the few times we really got along, so... I guess that."

He decides against commenting on it, for your voice had dropped to something a little sadder. "Rick's not a good person," he chides. 

"You don't get to form an opinion on Rick without finishing the movie first."

He laughs at that, but he falls silent soon after, an evident promise that he would wait. 

"Why did you make me watch this?" he asks, as you're greeted with a screen of black, your two reflections staring back at you. 

You turn your head, resting it flat against his thighs as you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"It isn't a happy ending," he explains at your quizzical look. 

"Oh, so movies I show you need to have a happy ending?" you argue. "You like Star Wars, Spencer."

"No, obviously they don't. But when you explained the film to me, you said, 'a romance classic from the forties'. Forgive me for presuming it would be a happy ending."

"I think it is kind of happy," you reply, shrugging as you tear your gaze away, resting instead on the coffee table. 

"How so?" he brushes the hair that falls out of your face. 

"They weren't right for each other," you murmur. "Rick knew that. He loved her enough to let her go, I guess."

August

You are a fragment of every person you have loved, and who has loved you. Tiny pieces of their soul weaving within your own to form the person you are today. From acts as simple as the way you cook your eggs, to reactions as serious as your emotional response to an insult. Family members making up your emotional regulators, childhood friendships determining your insecurities. 

Like a solidified piece of putty holding two pipes together, you are a person moulded to be what other people need. 

Stay quiet, don't react, detach. 

Not even a conscious choice you make anymore. Too many years spent punished for being loud, too many tears cried over your supposed overreaction, too many pieces of your heart shattered each time somebody leaves. Your responses are simply automatic now. 

Spencer Reid had not heard from you in fifty six hours. 

Two thirty in the morning was never a good time to try and communicate, for a plethora of reasons. Never mind the fact that it was late. His mind had been exhausted of its use during a particularly gruelling case, and you had been too anxious the four days he'd been gone to sleep properly. 

For that reason, and possibly many others you didn't know, he was in a bad mood. Your being awake at that hour was irritating to him, your half drank coffee was an awful idea in his mind, and your touch was unwanted by him. You didn't know why. 

You hated miscommunication. You hated the unsaid words that hung in the air whenever you'd look at him. 

The first thing he had said upon coming home was not, hello, or even, I missed you. No, it was a sharp, "Why are you awake?" as he set his messenger bag down on the floor next to his door. 

"I was waiting for you," you had said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Then it hit midnight, and you still weren't home, and usually you come home to me asleep, but I wanted to see you so I drank some coffee and..." you'd trailed off upon seeing his uncharacteristically cold expression. 

"You shouldn't stay awake waiting for me," he'd muttered, taking the mug from you and heading into the kitchen to clean it, flicking the light on. "You have work tomorrow. You need to be asleep."

"I missed you," you'd protested, standing up and going towards him. 

"I missed you too, but you should've been asleep."

Your attempt at hugging him and kissing him in greeting was denied, his hands prying you off his body. He could've ripped your heart out instead and you'd think it hurt less than that.

"Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

You felt like a child being scolded at his snark, which was evidently the reason behind you not listening to him at all in the end. 

He'd offered no proper explanation for his irritation towards you. Even as you'd picked up your things and left his apartment, silently, not even a quiet I love you whispered to confirm that you weren't leaving him for good, he didn't explain a thing to you. 

Out of sight, out of mind, was not a principle you could exercise when it came to him. Every notification to your phone that didn't brand his name hurt your heart, a constant reminder that maybe he was still mad at you, and he didn't want to see you.

It was a knock at your door that pried you from the clutches of your duvet that morning, a half-assed attempt at brushing through your hair and straightening of your clothes was the best whoever dared to come see you uninvited would get. 

Opening the door and your brain computing who it was had you wanting to slam it again, as if this were some movie and he would have the will to shove a foot in the door to stop it from closing. 

Maybe he would. 

"So you are alive," he says. 

"Last I checked, yes," you reply. 

Simple words spoken between two far from simple individuals, until he was nodding his head to the open space of your apartment behind you, and you were wordlessly agreeing to let him come in. 

"Are you here to break up with me?"

His closing of the door was interrupted by your question, his entire body going rigid for a beat, before he gently clicked the door and lock in place, turning on his shoulder with frowning eyebrows. 

"No. I'm... not—why, why would you think that?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Habit."

That hurts his heart, and he's shaking his head almost incessantly. "I'm not. I promise, honey. I just want to know what's going on. Nobody's heard from you."

"I know," you murmur, feet carrying you over to your couch before your legs can give out on you. 

He watches you, awaiting another spiel of words to explain where you had disappeared to for the past two and a bit days. And yet; nothing. So, he follows you, and sits down on the couch next to you. Hands reach out to pick up your legs, shoulders relaxing a little when you let him place them in his lap, and you go slightly still out of fluster. 

"I'm sorry for making you mad, if I did," you whisper. 

"You didn't. Did you think I was mad?"

"I guess. You were kind of mean," his heart shatters at that. "But maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. I was tired."

"No," his fingertips run up and down your legs, the only conscious act he could focus on to keep himself from bombarding you with every worried thought he's had the last two days. "I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I was mad at you. I wasn't. The case just stressed me out, and I was concerned about you still being awake that late."

"I was waiting for you," you mumble. 

"I know, angel," he nods his head. "It's just I usually come home to you asleep on the couch."

"Or the bathroom."

His chest puffs out with laughter, and your heart swells a little in your chest at the sight. "Or the bathroom," he parrots, nodding. 

It was when he was coming home from a case on the border in Washington state, and you had, like usual, tried to stay awake to wait for him. Unfortunately, the UnSub tiptoeing between the two country lines meant the case was dragged out, and he had come home much later than expected. And you had mistakenly passed out on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, after a shower. 

Amusement was over as his eyes found and locked with your own, and he earnestly asks, "Can you tell me why you disappeared?"

"No."

It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him. Just that you didn't know why either. Perhaps it was something you'd need to unpack with a professional, not your boyfriend at ten in the morning on your couch. 

Ever so understanding, Spencer Reid was. Even with the pause of his delicate touch on your legs in what you're sure is another jolt of frustration towards you.

"That's okay," he says, instead. "Can you promise to try and not disappear next time, then?"

Your shoulders shrug. Can you promise that? 

"You can't," he voices your thoughts for you, and you nod your head in confirmation. "Okay. Well, I really want to work this out with you. I need you to want that too."

"I do," you say quietly. 

"Then you need to work with me," he answers. "Where did your brain go that night?"

"Um," you hesitate. You could think of a thousand places your mind wandered to that night. None of them very good. A child again, being scolded for not turning the light out because you were up reading, maybe. "I don't know. I don't like being scolded like I'm a child. I guess I felt like a child."

"That wasn't my—"

"—I know," you cut him off before he can defend himself to you. "I know it wasn't your intention. But it felt that way. I'm an adult who makes her own decisions, and losing sleep before work because I want to see my boyfriend is one of those. No matter how... how stupid a decision you may think that is."

"I didn't think it was stupid," he shakes his head. "I was just concerned."

"Funny way of showing it," you mumble, lowering your gaze, before his lack of response makes you realise what you had just said to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was mean."

"No," hands lightly swat your legs. "No, I deserved that. I was really mean. It wasn't the right way to show my concern for you."

"Doesn't mean I should be rude back."

"I think it does," he says, his fingers going back to tracing patterns on your skin. "In fact, I encourage it."

In true Spencer fashion, his words tug a small smile onto your lips, and you feel the heaviness of what had happened between you two ease off your chest slightly. "That's a weird thing to encourage."

"Maybe," he agrees. "I don't like that you left without saying anything."

"I didn't feel very wanted," you explain. "By you. I tried to hug you, and you wouldn't let me touch you."

"I was overstimulated," he says. "It wasn't that I didn't want to hug you, honey. I did. Sometimes I don't like people touching me, yes, even you," he adds upon seeing your confused expression and tilted head. "I didn't handle that well. I should've told you that in the moment."

"I wish I had known that before," you murmur. "That's why I left. And you didn't try to stop me, so I just assumed..."

"I wasn't very present," he shakes his head to stop your self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. "I barely registered you were leaving until I heard the door shut."

"Oh."

"I wanted to stop you when I realised. I decided to give you space."

"I just thought you didn't care."

"If nothing else, know that I'll always care," he tells you, and your heart stutters at the raw honesty in his voice. "Even if you run away and I don't reach out for a week because I think you need space. I'll still care."

"Please don't leave me alone for a week if I run away," you reply, and one of his hands squeezes your knee. 

"Noted. I won't."

You nod your head with the faintest hint of a smile, before your gaze lowers to your legs. You inhale, then say, quietly, "I'm sorry for disappearing."

"I know," he answers. "It's okay."

November

It was a horrifically awful day that led you to this moment. Curling up on the couch with a blanket covering your entire body, staring aimlessly off into the warm glow of the reading lamp Spencer had bought you many moons ago. 

Your heart was heavy, hands cold, body shivering, in the cool November air that flooded your apartment. Your thermostat was just too far. Not that you were comfortable. Not even a little bit. You could evidently feel each spring of your couch pushing into your flesh, puncturing you uncomfortably. You hadn't had a need for a new couch since getting together with Spencer, usually finding your residence at his apartment more often than not. 

Not today, it seemed. 

Keys rattled outside your apartment door, and you heard the shuffling of familiar feet, followed by the gentle calling of your name to alert you of his presence. 

"Honey, it's freezing in here," he says, settling his bag down on the kitchen countertop, you're sure (you aren't looking). You hear the beep, following by the rush of wind coming out of your air conditioning unit as he turns the device on, and you're silently grateful. 

He finds you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you from behind it, greeting you with a kiss to the side of your head, right on your temple, and a few of your worries melt away in an instant. Only a few, for there is still a bricklayer of hurt seated comfortably over your heart. 

He says your name again when you don't say anything to greet him, and it's more shuffling of feet until he's dipping into the couch next to you, despite the fact that he still had his shoes and work clothes on. Irrelevant affairs he could deal with later. 

"Hey, what's this?" he asks you, quietly, leaning forwards and nudging your arched knees, and your gaze finally tears from the lamp to his face, spots of light decorating your vision and covering some of him.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm thinking."

"Very hard, apparently," he says, lightly. You appreciate the attempt of lifting the mood. "About what?"

"Um," you pause. "I saw my family today."

"Yeah. You said you were. I assume it didn't go well?"

You wordlessly shake your head, and he sighs, wasting no time in bringing you into his chest. You crack, and his heart shatters at the quiet sob that wracks through your body.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, voice all too quiet for your fragile state, for it only makes you cry a little harder. "Angel."

"She—um," your voice cracks. "Everything I said she turned into a joke to everyone. I just felt stupid the entire time. Like everything I said wasn't worth being said. So I stopped talking, because I couldn't get made fun of if I didn't say anything, right?" You feel his head nod against your own, even though you couldn't see him.

"No. She brought up things I'd said to her previously, and mocked them. I mean, I was in the other room so she didn't know I could hear her, but—but—" you choke on your words, cutting your ranting short, your hands petulantly clutching at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. "I'm sick of waiting for her to love me. Isn't she supposed to? She's my fucking mother and yet I'm still begging her to even like me. Why?"

"I don't know, angel." His voice is achingly soft, and his hands thread into your hair, brushing through it a few times; a welcome comfort. "This happens every time you see her."

"Yeah."

You're feeling impossibly small in his arms as you nod, sniffling away hideous snot bubbles you're sure he cared about. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's time to stop seeing her."

"Yeah." 

You're reluctant in agreeing with him, though you know deep down he's right. But it's an Earth shattering revelation that you aren't quite sure you wanted to ever come to. While certainly a thought you've had, and entertained previously, agreeing to it aloud is an entirely different beast. 

"She's my mom, though," you mumble. "She raised me."

"What she did for you previously should never be enough for you to ignore what she does to you now. I've never seen you come home happy after seeing her. You're never anything short of miserable. That makes me miserable, honey," the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, and you hum as a quiet response. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate feeling like this."

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "Don't decide tonight. You're emotional—yes, you are. Don't look at me like that," he scolds as you jerk your head back to narrow your tear filled eyes at him. "But can you promise me you'll consider my option?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

January

He wasn't home. 

Three o'clock in the morning, and Spencer Reid was nowhere to be found. Not in his own apartment, like you had originally thought. Not collecting the last of your boxes from your own. Not anywhere he commonly would be. 

At three in the morning. 

You had tried calling him. Multiple times, actually. A flurry of messages followed in their wake, and you were growing increasingly impatient as you stand awkwardly outside his apartment, that had just recently become your apartment too. You didn't have a key yet — needing one to be cut for Spencer only had one thus far. 

He had promised he'd be home. When you'd asked him as you were leaving earlier that evening if you'd need to take the key, he said no, and that he'd be home all night. 

God forbid you actually believed him, apparently. 

You could've sat at that apartment door for three minutes or hours. You weren't too sure anymore. Staring off into space and making up a list of sentences to say to him when he finally showed up — if he showed up. 

It was embarrassing. Heels tucked next to you, dress bunched at your waist, head beginning to ache from the alcohol wearing off, and eyes beginning to droop from how exhausted you were. 

Shuffling of feet had you lifting your head, landing on an equally as exhausted looking Spencer Reid, who's lips were parting upon spotting you on the floor, and a sickening realisation settling on his facial features. 

"I'm sorry," he stumbled out as he helped you stand up, ignoring your protests as he picked up your heels for you. "I forgot you weren't staying at your friends. I just assumed—"

"—You forgot?"

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even sound a little irritated. It shatters his heart more to hear a painstakingly small, broken tone coat your words, instead of them being dipped in venom. 

He knew it was a pathetic excuse. He forgot. That's his whole thing. He doesn't forget. But he also isn't always called into his job at two in the morning for an in state amber alert. You didn't know that, though.

"Here, let's get you inside and out of your clothes," he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you forwards into his apartment, your feet stumbling as you let him guide you around. 

"What do you mean you forgot?" you ask him, quietly. His stomach twists. 

"I got called into work. It was urgent. I had been so focussed on Hotch being freaked out I left without thinking. I'm so sorry, angel girl."

"Seriously?"

He freezes at your incredulous voice, his hands pausing at the top of your dress zipper. When he doesn't answer you immediately, you turn so you can look at him.

"You weren't home because you got called into work," you repeat the words over, and over, as if saying them more will make them any more sensical. He opens his mouth and begins to say your name, so you cut him off, "I was sitting there for—" you pause, checking the time on the wall clock across the room, "—two hours, Spencer. Drunk, and cold, and you weren't fucking picking up. Did you forget how to use your phone too? Did you forget how to contact your girlfriend?"

"You're tired, honey. Can you get some sleep and we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, actually. We're having this discussion now."

"No, you're not. You're exhausted. Sleep deprivation affects your emotional regulators, and—"

"—For once, can you not fucking Reid-splain to me?" you spit. "I think I'm allowed to be a little upset with you, Spencer. You forgot about me!"

He agrees; he does deserve your anger. Though, it doesn't make this any easier to listen to, and it certainly doesn't make his biting of his tongue very easy. For he wants to argue with you. He didn't forget about you, and none of what happened tonight was due to anything other than his lack of focus on things that weren't at the forefront of his mind. Case in point; a missing child. 

A few more beats of silence pass by, and you're brushing past him into the kitchen, jerking your arm away when his hand reaches out to grab it. 

"Why is it always work?" you ask him. "All of our issues come back to your job."

"I don't know."

"Am I not worth more than your job?" 

The question itself hangs in thick air, and his hesitance is enough of an answer within itself. It isn't fair. You know that. His job is important, and you'd never actively ask him to choose you over saving somebody's life. He knew that.

"I'm not asking you to choose seeing me over saving a life," you verbalise your thoughts, when he still doesn't reply. "I'm never asking that of you. But you couldn't have called me back? Or texted me to see if I could go to a friend's? Or even come to you at work to get a key?"

"I—"

"—Forgot. I know," you mutter, almost bitterly, turning around to pick out a glass from the cabinet. 

It's another few moments of quiet. Save for the tap that runs as you get yourself water, and the shuffling of his feet as he hesitates, then takes tentative steps towards the kitchen bar. 

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whisper, before he can get too close.

"Do what anymore?"

"Us."

The silence that follows deafens, and you have to flutter your eyes up to the ceiling to wane tears that threatened to spill. This was most certainly not how you imagined your night to go. 

"That's a big decision," he says, as if it weren't obvious.

"I know," and it's the finality in your voice that hurts him even more. 

"Can we please revisit this conversation in the morning? After you've slept?"

"My decision won't change."

"It might."

"Humour me with how we're supposed to move past this."

He freezes. "Um—we can talk. And we can even go to couple's therapy, or something," he ignores the face you pull. "I just think we—you—should make this decision when you're completely sober and rested."

You place the now empty glass on the bench again. "I won't have the courage to break up with you tomorrow."

"Is that not a sign that you shouldn't break up with me, then—"

"—Let me do this, damnit, Spencer!" you slam your hands down in front of you, eyes wide and almost desperate. 

He doesn't say anything more to argue with you. Instead, he bows his head, and you despise the crack in your heart at the way his eyes shut and shed a tear before his face is out of sight. 

You're moved out by the end of the month.

June

The universe is a wonderfully strange place. Somewhere you go to when things get too difficult, begging for respite and the freedom from yourself. Or when things are going so well you thank whoever was pulling the strings of your lifeline. 

You tried not to curse at the universe. What you give, you will receive. The love you expend will always be returned to you, whether that is in two minutes or two years. Hatred for the universe was always internalised and pushed down, for you'd rather that, than having the karmic Gods ruin your life any more. 

And yet; fuck you universe. 

You were recently asked who you love, in a group setting with people you barely knew. You'd have said your best friend's name, or your parents, but you felt awfully lonely amongst a group of people saying, "my partner", "my kids". You didn't think you were old enough yet for the most important person in your life not being the woman who raised you (though, she would never be that anyways). 

You said his name before you could even comprehend it. Before your brain had a second to stop running on autopilot to think. The two syllables flying past your lips, embarrassingly so. 

When someone asks you who you love, you think of him. 

Perhaps this was all your own fault. If you had just bided your tongue, held onto your pride and mumbled a quiet, "My mom, I guess", you wouldn't have spoken his existence back into the universe. 

It was a quiet, "Oh. Hello," that'd prompted your head to lift from your phone, attempting to tune out the busy train. And there he was, standing tall, messenger bag crossing over his body. 

"Hi," you say, breathless, air knocked from your lungs. 

"Can I... um, sit? All the other seats are taken."

And like you would if he was a stranger, you nod your head, shuffling a little closer to the side, allowing for him to sit down next to you. 

"Your hair's gotten long," Spencer Reid says, quietly.

"Yeah, I need to go get it cut. You have more—um, facial hair. Like it's more prominent. Like thicker," you stammer. 

"Yeah," you see his lips twitch into a small smile out of the corner of your eye. "I just got back from a case. I haven't had time to shave."

You manage to push down a comment about you liking it. 

And as if you were not strangers, he asks you, "How are you?"

You know he doesn't mean currently. Subconsciously asking you to tell him you're doing awfully without him, that the past six months had been horrible and you miss him dearly. 

It's true, but you can't say that.

Instead, you opt for a nonchalant, "I'm okay," and, "How are you?"

"Okay, too," he says, and you wonder how much truth his words hold. 

"How's work been?"

You don't know if you actually care. Asking aimlessly about the thing you had to blame for him becoming a solidified memory in your brain, and not a current experience. 

"Busy," he answers. "I've barely been home."

Not much has changed, it seems. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies. "It's kept me from wallowing."

"Can't say I've had the same fate."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

It was your own fault, really. And maybe he thought that. Maybe he's making fun of you in his mind for being sad and feeling horrible things after the breakup, because it was you who initiated it, at the end of the day. 

No, he isn't. You know that. Spencer Reid doesn't do that.

"It's okay," you finally say, words spoken on a breath. 

Silence covets the two of you, a thousand words on the tip of your tongue, but none ever spoken aloud. A silent conversation dancing in the air between your two bodies.

Do you miss me?

Yes. Do you miss me?

More than anything. 

But then the train stops, and his station is called, and he's standing awkwardly, forcing a tight smile onto his face, as he bids you goodbye. 

And for a few long half seconds, you watch him walk away, very slowly, for time has stopped for just a few beats of your heart. Then, you're calling his name, and he's stopping, as if he had expected you to reach out to him before he could get too far. 

You stare up at him for another beat longer, and you wonder if he's quite content to miss his station, just to talk to you some more. 

"Do you want to get coffee?"

"To wait an hour — is long — if love be just beyond. To wait eternity — is short — if love reward the end." (Emily Dickinson)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[mssishipi]

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 3 — WHY ARE YOU SO SALTY?

— This was supposed to be just sex—no feelings, no attachments. What happened in bed was meant to stay there. Jake and Jay were perfect together, an undeniably loving couple who had everything. From the very beginning, you were just a third, nothing more. So why does it feel like you’re the only one left out? Fuck, why are you salty?

content tags: fluff and fluff and angst, sunoo being annoyed at jayke for always stealing reader away from him, one kys joke, reader is falling in love, jayke being soft, don't expect romance in this chapter bcs it's angst, still they have fluff, some other people cameo (that you might be missing since chap 1).

warning: explicit content (smut), threesome (soft dom jake, soft dom jay, sub reader), but they kind of have solo moments, multiple sex position, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, cunnilingus, rimming, anal fingering, protected anal sex (fxm), attempt of double penetration, blowjob, ofc sum mxm scene. MDNI. WC:15.1K

want a taste?

notes: thank you for the 1k followers! i better not see any of you hating on my girl y/n.

So this is what it feels like.

The kind of thing your friends always gushed about—their whispers about how addicting it was, how they couldn't get enough. You never really got it. Until now. You didn't know exactly how long it had been going on. A month? Maybe more?

At some point, it became a routine, an unspoken agreement between the three of you. Sex, always sex. Even with classes, even with assignments piling up, there were moments where the three of you just couldn't help yourselves.

Your weekends are always ending up in their sheets. There were times when you swore you'd go a few days without it—focus, be responsible. But the second one of them (always Jake) pulled you close, hands roaming, lips brushing against your skin, you already knew how it would end.

Your schedules were never fully in sync. Different classes, different obligations. But somehow, you always found a way.

Because it was sex. And none of you could seem to stop.

"Shit, slow down!" Jay hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into your waist in a futile attempt to slow your relentless pace. But you didn't listen, the pleasure was too consuming, and all you could do was keep moving, keep chasing that euphoric high as you bounced on top of him.

Your moans spilled freely, the sound only making Jay groan beneath you. Behind you, Jake was grinning against your shoulder, completely entertained by the display in front of him. His hands were on your breasts, kneading them, rolling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, tell him, baby," he murmured.

You gasped, your hips faltering for a brief moment before sheer need pushed you forward again, rolling, grinding against Jay in slow, deliberate circles.

You could feel how much he was holding back—the way his fingers flexed against your skin, the restraint in his muscles as he tried to keep himself from flipping you over and taking control.

Jay's brows furrowed, his lips parted as he breathed heavily beneath you. You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his as you let the words tumble out with a needy tone. "M-my p-pussy is so empty, p-please fill it up," you whined.

Jake let out a low whistle beside you. "There it is," he mused, watching the way Jay's entire demeanor shifted. His muscles tensed, his fingers twitched against your skin, and his expression darkened in the most delicious way.

Jay growled, his grip tightening before suddenly yanking you down, forcing you to take him deeper, bottoming out inside you in one swift, punishing motion. You choked on a moan, your walls spasming around him at the sudden stretch.

Jake was right—Jay loved that kind of talk.

"T-there—hah, oh my God! Ahh!" You practically screamed, your hands clawing at Jay's arms as he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.

You barely had time to process before he was already moving again, pounding into you with a force that made your head spin.

The sheets twisted beneath you, your fingers gripping the fabric for some semblance of control, but it was useless. You were completely at their mercy, exactly where they wanted you.

Jake chuckled, watching the way your body jolted with every deep thrust before settling himself beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His mouth found your neck first, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your heated skin, trailing lower and lower until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking eagerly.

Your eyes rolled back, a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you.

For years, you had imagined something like this.

You'd seen it in porn, fantasized about the intensity of two mouths, two cocks, hands everywhere, pleasure heightened beyond what you thought possible. You used to ache with frustration, wondering if you'd ever experience what those girls did—the kind of overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure that left them ruined, wrecked, completely undone.

You'd sometimes cried, wondering if maybe there was something wrong with you, why no one else had ever made you feel this.

Now, you were drowning in it, every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing, and electrified with sensation. Years of frustration are now it all poured out of you, swallowed whole by them.

And God, you loved every second of it. It felt endless, like they were making up for every second of deprivation, stretching time itself just to ruin you over and over again.

Jay let out a ragged growl, his grip on your thighs tightening as his thrusts became deeper. "Shit, I'm fucking cumming."

Beside you, Jake pulled away from your nipple, his mouth swollen and glistening as he turned to Jay. Without hesitation, he grabbed the back of Jay's neck and kissed him.

You watched as their tongues slid together, swallowing each other's moans. The sight sent a fresh pulse of heat through you, a sharp ace blooming deep inside your core.

Your fingers twitched, then grasped at Jake's arm, a mindless, needy tug. Include me.

Jake felt it immediately, breaking the kiss just enough to glance at you, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Feeling left out, baby?"

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His teeth grazed your lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, making you shudder.

Jay's hands slid over your stomach, his palms warm as he moved up—brushing over your ribs, cupping your breasts, kneading them firmly. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

Jake pulled away just in time to see the way your body arched into Jay's touch, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

A sudden, sharp thrust pulled your focus back to Jay. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his dark, intense gaze. His grip on your breast tightened as he drove into you with slow, full strokes.

"Say it again," Jay growled. His thrusts grew sharper, rocking your body with every movement.

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands flying to his wrists, gripping them for balance. Your mind felt hazy, drunk on the pleasure flooding your senses.

Without thinking, your other hand drifted to Jake's cock, fingers wrapping around his length. He was so hard, twitching in your grasp. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as you stroked him, your fingers tightening, gliding in slow motions.

Jake exhaled a sharp breath, his head tilting back slightly. When he looked at you again, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips parted in a lazy, pleased smile. He guided your hand along his length, showing you exactly how he liked it.

"Come on, baby," Jake murmured, voice velvety. "Say it again, hmm?"

Your breath hitched. You hesitated for a moment, cheeks flushing, because you weren't usually the type to talk during sex. It wasn't something you were used to.

But with the way they were looking at you, waiting, and starving for it. You bit your lip, gaze flickering between them, before finally whispering:

"U-use me 'til you c-cum. F-fill me, please."

A deep groan tore from Jay's throat, while Jake hissed, his grip on your hand tightening as his cock twitched in your palm.

You were practically screaming at this point. Everything was too much, too good—you could hardly believe this was your life now, wrapped up between them, drowning in sensations you'd never thought you'd get to experience.

You could feel every inch of Jay stretching you, filling you so completely, his deep, steady thrusts hitting on your g-spot inside you over and over again.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum—oh, shit." Jay moaned, his head tilting back, his jaw clenching. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you still, feeling the way your walls squeezed around him, gripping him.

Jake pulled away from your hand while Jay straightened his back, adjusting his position, his grip shifting to your legs. Without warning, he pushed them further apart, spreading you wider, sinking even deeper inside you. A ragged cry ripped from your throat, your hands flying to his forearms.

You are catching your breath until you felt a warm breath ghosting over your swollen clit.

Your stomach tightened, and your entire body jerked when you felt the first slow, deliberate flick of his tongue against your clit. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling as he licked a long, slow stripe over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, your fingers fisting the sheets, your head tossing to the side.

Jake hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. "She's so sensitive," he murmured, lips brushing against your slick heat.

Jay exhaled harshly, his fingers flexing on your thighs as he fought for control. His cock twitched inside you, the added stimulation pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

"You're such a tease," Jay gritted out, his hips snapping forward, driving into you harder.

Jake just grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he flattened his tongue against your clit, sucking gently.

Your vision blurred, the world around you dissolving into nothing but pure, white-hot pleasure. Every muscle in your body locked up, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clamped down around Jay, squeezing him so tightly that his rhythm stuttered, his breath hitching in his throat.

The sudden, hot rush of his release spilling deep inside you, filling you up completely. Jay let out a ragged groan, his fingers bruising against your thighs as he slammed himself deep one last time, grinding into you as he rode out his high.

The pleasure had hit so fast, so hard, that your body collapsed under the weight of it. Your mind went blank, your limbs limp, but before you could fully sink into the overwhelming sensation, Jake was suddenly there—moving swiftly, his hands gripping your arms, steadying you. "Whoa, baby—breathe," he murmured, His lips brushed over your temple as Jay's hips gave one last, weak thrust, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

"Fuck," Jay exhaled, his grip finally loosening, hands sliding over your trembling thighs before he slumped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath is shaky as you tried to steady yourself, the aftershocks still lingering in your body. Your legs trembled, muscles twitching from the overwhelming sensation that still buzzed through you.

Suddenly, Jay's nose brushed against the curve of your neck as he nuzzled closer, his body relaxing against yours. The intimate gesture sent a soft, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. While Jake's fingers lacing with yours, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

"You're okay?" Jake's voice was softer than usual, his fingers traced idle patterns on your wrist.

You blinked up at him, your mind still sluggish. You felt too much all at once—the lingering warmth of their bodies pressed against yours, the way Jay's breath ghosted over your skin and the soft ache between your thighs. And there was something else that is more deeper and unsettling.

They always did these small, tender touches that shouldn't mean anything, yet somehow felt like they did.

Of course, you liked it, but in the back of your mind, it was too much, too good like a dream you'd eventually have to wake up from.

"Shower?" Jay offered, you blinked up at him before glancing at Jake, who was still hard. He caught your gaze, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your mouth.

"It's okay," he murmured against your lips. "I'm sure you're tired already."

Tired? That was an understatement. Still, you hesitated, looking between the two of them because the thought of just leaving him like that made your chest tight.

You swallowed, "I can still..."

Jake huffed out a soft laugh, cutting you off with another kiss, this one slower, more indulgent, and when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Not tonight, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm. "You'll be sore enough as it is."

He wasn't wrong. You could already feel the dull ache settling into your muscles.

Jay shifted beside you, sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You exhaled shakily, allowing Jay to pull you up. Jake stretched, letting out a low groan before reluctantly rolling off the bed.

As Jay led you toward the bathroom, you cast one last glance at Jake, watching as he lazily stroked himself, smirking as he caught you staring.

"Go on," he teased, "I'll take care of myself."

Jay scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom. Your body felt weightless in his arms as the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

The shower was already running, steam curling into the air. Instead of stepping directly under the spray, Jay lowered you into the bathtub, letting the warm water lap at your skin. The moment you sank into it, your body melted further, muscles loosening as the heat surrounded you.

You exhaled, head resting back against the tub's edge, eyes fluttering shut. The water rose higher, enveloping you completely, and for a moment, it felt like you could drift off right then and there.

Jake followed after not too long, he stepped into the tub behind you, his legs bracketing yours as he pulled you back against his chest.

Jay was still outside the tub, kneeling beside it. His hands dipped into the water, fingers skimming along your legs before reaching for the soap. The way he lathered it in his hands was deliberate, slow, before he started gliding his palms over your arms, your shoulders—so gentle, so careful.

Jake hummed against your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Relax," he murmured, his hands moving to rest on your waist beneath the water. "Just let us take care of you."

The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. This was new, too new. It wasn't just the sex, it was everything that came after. It was the quiet moments, it was the way they touched you, cared for you.

And you were just now realizing how dangerously comfortable you were becoming with it.

Without thinking, you shifted, turning into Jake's embrace. Your arms slid around his torso, pressing yourself against him, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jake stilled for a second, as if caught off guard. Then, slowly, he let out a soft exhale, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested against the top of your head, fingers tracing along your back beneath the water.

A quiet understanding passed between Jay and Jake as their eyes met over your shoulder. Jay's lips twitched into a soft smile before he reached forward, his palm smoothing over your back, working the tension from your muscles as he poured warm water down your spine.

The sensation made you hum in response, your body sinking further into Jake's hold, lulled by the quiet care surrounding you.

The three of you slipped into the lecture hall, noticeably late. You kept your head down, fingers fumbling to smooth your hair as you hurried toward your usual seat while Jay and Jake trailed behind you.

Sunoo huffed the moment you slid into the chair beside him. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he snatched up the things he'd left on the seat that is clearly meant to reserve it for you.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, shoving his notebook into his bag.

Before you could respond, Jake tugged at the hem of your uniform, leaning in. "Hey, there are three open seats at the back," he murmured, nodding toward the empty row.

You glanced between him and Sunoo, lips parting slightly in hesitation. Sunoo tsked, shifting in his chair dramatically as if to make a point.

You gave Jake a small, apologetic smile before turning back to face the front. He exhaled through his nose, but didn't push it. Jay, as usual, said nothing, simply sliding into the seat behind you.

The lecture dragged on, your mind only half-focused as you felt the occasional tap of Jake's pen against the back of your chair. When class finally ended, Sunoo wasted no time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the open field outside.

The two of you had spent too much time here during your vacant periods—lying on the grass, complaining about classes, escaping from whatever responsibilities you didn't feel like dealing with.

Sunoo sat down first with a grunt, motioning for you to join him. As soon as you did, he reached out, fixing the slightly crooked knot of your necktie with a pout.

"You're spending way too much time with them," he muttered. You opened your mouth to argue, but Sunoo was already pouting dramatically, arms crossed over his chest.

"Am I not your favorite gay best friend anymore?" he whined, tilting his head with exaggerated sadness.

A laugh bubbled from your lips despite yourself. "You're being ridiculous," you teased, nudging his leg with your knee.

"I'm being neglected," he insisted, flopping back onto the grass. "I'm being abandoned. Replaced."

"You are so dramatic."

Sunoo huffed, turning his head to squint at you. "Seriously, though. You've been with them nonstop lately. I get it, okay? They're hot and good at—" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "—stuff. But what about me? We used to be inseparable."

Your smile faltered slightly. You knew Sunoo wasn't actually mad, but there was something genuine beneath his usual theatrics.

"I know," you admitted, lowering your gaze. "It's just... different with them. I don't know how to explain it."

Sunoo propped himself up on his elbows. "Try me."

You hesitated because how could you put it into words?

Sunoo watched your expression carefully, then sighed. "Look, I just don't want you getting hurt. They're... well..." Sunoo stop what he was about to say, you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Sunoo softened. "I'm not saying stop. Just... don't lose yourself in it, okay?"

You swallowed, feeling an odd tightness in your chest. "I won't," you promised.

Sunoo stared at you for another second before sighing and sitting up fully. Then, with a sly grin, he poked your cheek. "Now, tell me the dirty details. Who's better?"

"Sunoo!"

"What? Best friends share everything!"

You told yourself it wasn't a big deal.

Whatever you were feeling—it was just because this was new, unfamiliar. You weren't used to it yet, that's all. It wasn't something deeper.

Just go with the flow.

Besides, Sunoo hugged you all the time, kissed your hair, looped his arm through yours without a second thought. Affection didn't have to mean anything complicated.

These past few days, you'd been keeping a little distance, limiting how much time you spent with them. Not because you didn't want to be around them, but because you didn't want to get used to this feeling.

And, you didn't want Sunoo to think you were replacing him. He was your best friend—your super best friend, as he liked to remind you. No one could ever take his place.

"Let's go! We're going to Burger King!" Sunoo declared, tugging your arm dramatically.

You barely had a second to react before Jake's arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. A startled squeal left your lips as your feet nearly lifted off the ground.

"She already said yes when I asked her for shawarma," Jake argued, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke.

You twisted between them, eyes flicking back and forth. Sunoo glared at Jake and Jake smirked at Sunoo.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes, gripping your arm tighter. "Shawarma? Seriously? That's so basic. She's getting a burger."

Jake scoffed, his arms still locked around your waist. "She literally loves shawarma. And, unlike you, I asked first."

"Oh, so now we're keeping track of who asks first?" Sunoo shot back, voice dripping with mockery. "That's cute, Jake. Real cute."

You groaned, twisting between them. "Guys—"

"Nope." Sunoo cut you off, yanking you toward him. "Burger."

Jake pulled you right back against his chest. "Shawarma."

Jay sighed, barely looking up from his phone as your body jerked between Jake and Sunoo's relentless tug-of-war.

"She's coming with us!" Jake huffed, tightening his grip on your waist.

Sunoo scoffed, yanking your arm in the opposite direction. "Excuse me?! I had her first!"

Jake let out a mocking gasp. "Oh, so now we're keeping track of who had her first?" He stuck his tongue out at Sunoo.

Sunoo placed a hand over his chest. "We are super best friends! Inseparable! Back in high school, everyone said we were like a total package. Where I go, she goes."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Dude, you sound like a clingy ex."

Sunoo gasped, absolutely scandalized. "I do not—"

Before he could finish, Jay suddenly reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you toward him.

"Enough," he muttered, slipping his phone into his pocket. He started walking, his fingers laced through yours to keep you from being stolen again.

"Wha—? Where are you taking her?!" Sunoo yelped.

Jay didn't even glance back. "Away from you two idiots."

Jake let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. "Damn. Kinda hot."

Sunoo scowled. "You would say that."

Meanwhile, your brain short-circuited as you stared down at Jay's hand in yours, warmth spreading from your fingertips all the way up to your face. Jake and Sunoo trailed after you, still bickering over who got to walk beside you, tugging at your sleeves and elbowing each other like children.

Jay let out a sharp exhale, clearly losing patience. Without a word, he shifted his grip, draping an arm firmly around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

Sunoo cross his arms and huffed dramatically. "This is favoritism."

Jay shot them both a deadpan look. "Shut up."

In the end, none of the arguing mattered. The four of you ended up crammed into a booth at a Chinese restaurant, chopsticks clinking against bowls as you all shared food between bites of conversation.

Sunoo still sulked. Jake kept stealing food from your plate. And Jay, despite his earlier scowl, just kept filling your bowl with more dumplings.

The weekend arrived, and Jay had texted, asking you to hang out. At the same time, Sunoo and Wonyoung had invited you to go figure skating.

Torn between the two, you decided to make the most of your day, texting Jay that you'd come by in the evening, not wanting to miss out on time with your friends.

By the time you stepped out of the taxi in front of Jay's apartment, your legs were sore and aching, exhaustion creeping into your muscles from hours on the ice. You barely had time to lift your hand to knock before the door swung open.

Jake stood there, his eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of you. His sweet smile stretched wide before he reached forward, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you inside.

"Finally," he breathed, his grip warm and firm as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

A giggle escaped your lips as he pressed a trail of playful, affectionate kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. Your stomach fluttered—there it was again, that strange, uncontrollable feeling. The way your heart pounded just a little too hard.

"Missed you, missed you," Jake whined softly, his cheek brushing against yours as he held you impossibly closer.

You laughed, shaking your head as your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against Jake's back. "We literally ate at the Chinese restaurant three days ago," you reminded him.

Jake only whined in response, rocking the both of you side to side like a sulking child. He lifted his head, lower lip jutted out in the most exaggerated pout, eyes big and pleading.

"Yeah, but Sunoo was there," he complained, brows furrowing. "I wanna spend more time with you—just me, you, and Jay."

His words sent a strange little jolt through you, warm curling in your stomach.

"You didn't even text that much today," he muttered, his pout deepening.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I was with Sunoo and Wonyoung, you know that."

Jake huffed dramatically. "Still. I need my daily dose of you."

His words sent another jolt through you, curling around your ribs like a slow-burning ember. You tried to play it off, focusing on how ridiculously cute he looked instead of the way your pulse picked up speed.

"You're such a baby," you teased, reaching up to pinch his cheeks between your fingers. His skin was warm under your touch, and when he scrunched his nose in response, it only made your heart pound harder.

"Am not," he grumbled, though he made no effort to pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch. His eyes flickered over your face, studying you for a second before his lips curled into a grin. "But if I were a baby, I'd be your favorite, right?"

Before you could answer, a voice cut through the moment. "You're blocking the door," Jay said flatly, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, watching the two of you.

Jake didn't let go immediately. Instead, he smirked and tightened his arms around you one last time, swaying you both dramatically before finally pulling back. "She's mine for the next hour," Jake announced proudly.

Jay rolled his eyes. "You literally saw her three days ago."

"And it felt like years," Jake shot back, dragging you toward the living room.

The movie flickered on the screen, but it had long since become nothing more than background noise. You and Jake were supposed to be watching it together—Jay had opted out, choosing to focus on his classwork instead, not wanting to procrastinate. But somewhere along the way, Jake's hand had found its way to your thigh, stroking absently as if he wasn't really thinking about it.

At first, it was innocent. Just a casual touch. But then his fingers started moving, kneading softly, tracing small circles against your skin, his fingertips creeping higher with each pass.

Your breath caught. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position, but your legs instinctively parted. You didn't even realize you were doing it until Jake let out a quiet chuckle.

"Look at that," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over your clothed heat. "Already opening up for me?"

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, body sinking into the couch as he teased you. The touch was light, barely there, but enough to set a slow burn deep in your stomach.

His fingers pressed down, rubbing slow, lazy circles through the fabric of your shorts. Your breath came out in a shaky exhale, hips lifting ever so slightly, chasing more friction.

"You're so warm," he mused, his voice dipping lower, more hushed. "And already so wet."

You nodded weakly, your thoughts scattering as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your bare skin. A quiet moan slipped past your lips.

"You know," you breathed between soft gasps, "I still can't believe I'm experiencing this."

Jake hummed, his lips trailing along the side of your neck. "Oh? And why's that?"

Your fingers twitched against the couch, gripping the fabric as he slid a finger between your folds. The touch was electric, sending pleasure zipping up your spine.

"I never really enjoyed sex before," you said, gasping when he pressed against your clit just right. "It's... shocking, I guess. That you and Jay just know exactly how to—fuck—please me."

Jake smirked, his lips curling against your skin. "Mmm, keep talking, baby," he whispered.

Your breath hitched as his fingers moved with deliberate skill, teasing and stroking in just the right way. Your thighs trembled, your body completely pliant under his touch.

"I-it's like—oh, shit, shit, right there, Jake—it's like my body just picked only the two of you."

Jake groaned, his fingers pressed deeper, circling with the perfect amount of pressure. He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Damn right it did," he murmured. "Your body will only listen to us."

Jake shifted his position, settling more comfortably between your legs. His free hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to your collarbone, baring your chest to the cool air.

You didn't wait, you unclasped your bra in a rush. Jake's lips curled into a smirk, his breath warm against your skin.

"You like it more when your left breast gets attention, don't you?" His voice was teasing, but he didn't wait for an answer.

The second his mouth latched onto your left mound, a whimper tore from your throat. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, lips closing around it as he sucked just hard enough to make your back arch off the couch.

"Hah—fuck, Jake," you moaned, your back arching off the couch as his fingers pumped deeper.

Jake chuckled against your flushed skin. "Jay was right," he murmured, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your wet nipple, making it pebble even harder. His fingers didn't slow between your legs, pressing deep, curling just right. "You always react more when we do this."

To prove his point, he dragged his teeth lightly over the stiff peak, making you jolt, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Then, his mouth closed around it again, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. His free hand found your other breast, rolling and pinching your neglected nipple between his fingers, the combination of sensations making your head spin.

Your body was melting under his touch, too sensitive. Every flick of his tongue, every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers inside you. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping at the soft strands, trying to anchor yourself as you rocked against his hand. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you mixed with the low hum of pleasure vibrating from his throat.

"Jake—Jake, I'm—" You barely managed to get the words out. You could feel it, that familiar, intoxicating build-up, your walls clenching tight around his fingers.

Jake groaned, feeling the way you squeezed him. "Oh, you love that, don't you?" he mused. "Knowing we talk about you? Knowing we know exactly what makes you fall apart?"

His words sent a new wave of arousal crashing through you. The idea of Jay and Jake discussing you like this, learning every single detail of your body, what you liked, what drove you insane—it made your core throb even harder.

Jake pulled back to look at you, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with lust. He didn't stop, fingers pressing deeper, fucking into you at a steady, teasing pace. "Bet you'd love to hear what else we say about you, huh?" he murmured, grinning as he watched your breath hitch.

Jake pushed himself up, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"We would love to fuck that ass."

A raw moan spilling from your lips, your grip on his hair tightened as your body tensed. A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, pleasure snapping so fast and sharp that your hips bucked against his hand, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashed over you.

"Oh my God, Jake!" you gasped, clenching hard around his fingers, your body twitching, desperate to hold onto the overwhelming pleasure for just a little longer.

Jake groaned, his free hand smoothing over your thigh, gripping it possessively as he worked you through your high. "Woah, that's it." he murmured. "Came so fast just from that, huh? You love the idea, don't you?"

You swallowed, still catching your breath, your body limp against the couch. Jake pulled his fingers from you slowly, watching the way your slick coated them, shining in the dim light.

He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction. "Fuck," he sighed, grinning as he met your dazed, fucked-out gaze.

"Y-You're going to f-fuck my butt?"

Jake's grin widened, his cock twitching inside his pajama pants at how wrecked you sounded. Instead of answering right away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your lips.

"Only if you want to," he murmured.

You didn't even hesitate, eyes wide and desperate when you looked at him. "I want to."

Jake inhaled sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening for a second before he let out a low chuckle. "Fuck, yeah."

His cock throbbed at just the thought, but he forced himself to pull back, exhaling through his nose to keep control.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up first." Jake scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom on the first floor. The moment he set you down, he was already moving, grabbing the necessary supplies, turning on the faucet, letting warm water fill the sink.

You sat on the closed toilet seat, face already burning in embarrassment as you watched him prepare. "I can do it myself, you know."

Jake only smirked, kneeling in front of you. "I know, but where's the fun in that?"

A whimper lodged in your throat when he gently guided you to stand, then turned you to face the counter. His hands slid down your waist, his touch is careful as he spread your ass apart, exposing both your soaked cunt and your tight, clenching hole.

You let out a choked sound, immediately covering your face with your hands.

Jake chuckled at your reaction, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. "Don't be shy, baby," he murmured, "I'm gonna eat this later, you know."

Your breath hitched, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, anticipation coiling in your stomach despite the embarrassment flooding your face.

Then the douche touched your hole. You sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively tensing, but Jake was already there, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulder, his free hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

"Relax," he cooed, his voice low and patient. "Anus muscles are naturally good at sucking, so don't worry about the water coming in. It won't feel as weird as you think."

Jake squeezed your hip reassuringly before continuing, "I'm gonna let the water stay inside for a few seconds. It'll feel uncomfortable, but it's totally bearable, okay?"

You exhaled shakily, nodding, trusting him completely.

Jake smiled against your skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good girl."

Your body shuddered at his praise, the tension in your shoulders melting ever so slightly. Jake kept his hand steady on your back, his fingers tracing light patterns to keep you relaxed as he slowly let the water flow in.

A strange pressure built inside you, foreign and mildly uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You whined softly, shifting on your feet, and Jake leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Breathe through it," he murmured, "just a few more seconds, baby."

You focused on his touch, on the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. When he finally let the water out, a strange relief washed over you, making you sigh.

"See? Not so bad, huh?" Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You nodded, still feeling a bit shy about the whole process. "It's... weird."

Jake chuckled, squeezing your waist. "Yeah, first time always is. But you're doing so good for me."

His words made your stomach flutter. It was stupid, the way something as simple as that made warmth spread through your chest.

"One more time, okay?" Jake said. "Then you'll be all clean for us."

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication—for us.

"I'll be the first, alright? Get you nice and used to it."

You whimpered at his words, thighs pressing together as heat surged through you. Jake chuckled, noticing your reaction.

"Then, when you're ready," he continued, "we'll take you together."

A gasp left your lips as he nipped at your ear. "I'll be in your pussy, stretching you open while Jay fills up this tight little hole."

Your knees nearly buckled, a whine escaping you as you pressed your forehead against the cool tile. The images flashing through your mind—Jake stretching you open, Jay filling you from behind. It felt surreal, like stepping into one of your deepest, filthiest fantasies. The kind you'd only ever dreamed about. But this was real. This was happening.

Your pussy clenched involuntarily, already aching for more.

Once he finished helping you clean up, you turned to face him, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him down into a heated kiss. It wasn't soft or slow, it was desperate and needy. Your hands roamed his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as his tongue slid against yours.

Jake's hands found their way to your ass, gripping firmly as he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him in place as your lips remained fused in a messy, heated kiss.

He carried you effortlessly up the stairs, his fingers kneading your flesh. You barely registered the moment when he pushed the bedroom door open, until you caught sight of Jay.

Jay was seated at his desk, head tilted slightly downward, pen gliding across the pages of his binder notebook. The only acknowledgment he gave was a brief sigh as he adjusted the volume of his headset, as if this was nothing new to him.

You swallowed, glancing at Jay's back, hesitating. "I think we're going to disturb him," you murmured quietly.

Jake only laughed, his fingers teasing along the curve of your waist. "Ignore him," he whispered, "We're going to have so much fun."

His hands traveled upward, kneading your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. "All fours, baby. Arch your back."

Without thinking, you obeyed. Your knees pressed into the mattress, hands sinking into the sheets as you positioned yourself. You peeked over your shoulder, stealing another glance at Jay. He was still writing, pen moving in smooth, deliberate strokes, seemingly unaffected.

"He's not going to join?" you asked.

Jake smirked, running a hand down your spine, pressing at the small of your back to deepen the arch. "Patience," he murmured. "You know how Jay is. He'll join us later."

Jake reached for the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. Both of you were already bare against the sheets, Jake wasted no time positioning himself behind you, his hands spreading your ass apart as he dipped his head down.

The first swipe of his tongue over your soaked folds made you gasp, your fingers curling into the sheets. "Fuck," he groaned, voice muffled against your skin. "Always so sweet."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself sink into the sensation, a breathy sigh slipping past your lips as you rocked back against his mouth.

Jake tilted his head, pressing his tongue deeper, swirling it inside you before dragging it back up. Then, he started kissing your pussy—deep, wet kisses, his tongue flicking against your clit before sliding up again.

A quiet moan escaped you, but even through the haze of pleasure, you were still aware of Jay sitting at his desk just a few feet away. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, not wanting to disturb him. Even though, really, what you were doing behind him was distracting enough.

"I'm going to eat this little ass, okay?" Jake murmured. Your breath hitched, his hands smoothed over your back, a silent reassurance. "Hey, relax," he soothed, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

The moment his tongue flicked against your other hole, a sharp whimper tore from your lips. Your grip on the sheets tightened as your body jolted at the unfamiliar sensation. It was strange, but the way Jake's free hand slid between your legs to rub slow, deliberate circles over your clit sent waves of pleasure crashing over the discomfort.

And when Jake's tongue breached your hole, a sharp, uncontrollable moan ripped from your throat. The sensation was nothing like you had expected. It was hot, wet, and utterly overwhelming.

Jake let out a low laugh. "Didn't expect to like it this much, huh?" he teased before delivering a sharp slap to your pussy. You yelped, your hips jerking at the sudden sting, only for the warmth of his tongue to soothe it a moment later.

He moved effortlessly between your holes, one moment pressing into your ass, the next licking a slow, filthy stripe down to your dripping cunt. He groaned against you, savoring the way your body practically fed him, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything.

You turned your head, eyes seeking out Jay, still hunched over his notebook, pen moving steadily across the page as if nothing was happening behind him. The sight made you feel frustrated, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"J-Jay..." you whimpered, arching your back even more, hoping and begging for him to at least look.

Jake chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking over your clit before he pulled back, lips glistening. "Aww, baby wants his attention?" he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your butt cheeks.

Your fingers twisted into the sheets, body trembling as Jake's hand came down to knead your ass. "Don't worry," he murmured. "He'll break soon. He always does."

"For now, pay attention to me, hmm?" His voice was so as his hands gliding over your skin . "I'm going to insert a finger. Okay?"

You took a deep breath, and Jake pressed another kiss to your lower back. "Breathe for me, there you go," he murmured as his slicked-up finger traced the tight ring of muscle, teasing but not pushing in just yet.

You whined softly, your body instinctively tensing again. Jake immediately noticed and stopped, pressing more soft kisses against your skin. "I won't rush you," he reassured, his tone filled with patience. "Just focus on how good it feels, okay?"

He flattened his tongue against your entrance again, massaging the sensitive skin with slow licks, easing you into the sensation. It was strange and unfamiliar—but paired with his mouth, it felt... good. Slowly, your muscles began to relax, your body responding to his careful attention.

Only when he felt you melt against him did he ease his finger inside, pushing in barely an inch before stopping. "Still good, baby?" he asked, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding against the sheets. "Y-Yeah... feels weird, but... good."

Jake grinned, "good girl. You're doing so well."

Behind you, Jay finally let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over your heavy breathing. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Though he was still pretending to focus on his notebook, the way he gripped his pen a little too tightly told you everything.

Jake's fingers pressed deeper, slick with lube, stretching you open with slow, careful movements. His cock twitched at the sight of your arched back, the way your ass framed the tight ring of muscle he was working open. He exhaled harshly through his nose, visibly restraining himself from rushing, from giving in to his own desperation.

"You're doing so good, baby," he murmured. Your breath hitched when he added another finger, scissoring you open, teasing the tight heat. It felt strange, but Jake was patient, never pushing too far.

When he was sure you were as ready as you could be, he pulled away slightly, fumbling with the condom, his hands unsteady. He sheathed himself quickly, then positioned himself behind you, his chest pressing flush against your back as he kissed your shoulder.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other guided himself to your entrance.

The first press of his cock made you whimper. Jake immediately hushed you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Relax, baby," he soothed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, kneading them gently. "Breathe for me, nice and slow."

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, you could hear his breath hitch, feel his thighs tremble as he pushed forward inch by inch. He was trying—really trying—not to just snap his hips forward and bury himself fully inside you.

Behind you, the scrape of a chair echoed through the room, followed by the shift of the mattress. You felt Jay's presence right beside you. When you turned your head, you found him sitting on the bed, jaw tight, eyes locked onto the place where Jake was slowly stretching you open.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jake groaned, his voice almost breaking. "Feels so fucking good, baby—ahh—"

Before he could move any further, Jay's voice cut through. "Don't move yet."

Jake let out a frustrated curse, gripping your waist tightly as he stilled. "I know, fuck—I know," he muttered, jaw clenched, his cock twitching inside you.

Jay didn't say anything else. Instead, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and squirted more onto Jake's length. Then, just as carefully, he guided Jake's hips forward, ensuring the stretch remained slow.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Breathe," he murmured, his hand trailing down between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

The added pleasure made you exhale sharply, your body slowly easing up. Jake took that moment to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out with a deep, shuddering groan.

The fullness was something—a different kind of stretch, a different kind of sensation than you were used to. You felt so completely stuffed, and the burn slowly morphing into something else.

Jay shifted beneath you, adjusting his position so that your legs straddled him, his broad frame supporting your weight as he reached between your bodies. His fingers returned to your clit, circling it. The moment his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and teasing the sensitive bud, you let out a helpless moan, your body trembling between the two of them.

Jake took that moment to start moving. Slowly at first, rolling his hips forward, pressing himself deeper inch by inch. A strangled gasp tore from your throat as you felt every bit of him stretching you in a way that had you teetering between pleasure and overwhelming sensation.

"Ha—so good," Jake groaned, as he felt the way your body clenched around him. "Your ass is so fucking tight. I could stay buried in here forever—ahh, fuck—"

Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, fingers digging into Jay's shoulders as you struggled to ground yourself. The pressure between your legs from Jay's touch only intensified everything, sending you spiraling faster than you expected.

Jake picked up his pace, his hips snapping forward in deep thrusts. Each movement pushed you further onto Jay's waiting tongue and fingers, the dual stimulation making your mind go hazy.

You whimpered, your breath coming out in sharp, desperate gasps. "Kiss—please," you begged, eyes glossy, lips parted in a plea.

Jay wasted no time. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as his hand worked faster between your legs, matching the rhythm of Jake's thrusts.

You were already overwhelmed, but you still wanted more. Needed more.

Your hands moved blindly, fumbling with the waistband of Jay's shorts, tugging at the fabric in desperation. Jake smirked behind you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he turned your head to steal another kiss.

Jay let out a deep breathe, standing just enough to push down his shorts and boxers, his hard length springing free. He palmed himself lazily, watching the way your body rocked between them.

You broke the kiss with Jake, your gaze immediately dropping to Jay's aching arousal. "Want you too, please," you whined, voice shaky as your hands are reaching for him.

Jay inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "Yeah?" he murmured, dragging the tip of his cock along your soaked folds, teasing your clit, your body twitching at the light, agonizing touch. You keep nodding your head desperately.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers gripping his dick tight as he forced himself to hold back. "Not yet. Maybe next time... we need your body to get used to this first."

Your heart dropped, "b-but..." your voice wavered, disappointment crashing into you.

Jake stilled behind you, his hands soothing over your hips. "Shh, don't cry, baby," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, but the tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

Jay cursed under his breath, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. "You're too fucking cute when you get like this," he sighed. "We're just taking our time,"

You hiccupped a breath, nodding, even as your body still ached for more.

Jake's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. His pace grew frantic and desperate, losing himself in the way your body clenched around him.

Your moans grew louder, mixing with his gasps, your legs shaking violently. Your muscles gave out, and the two of you collapsed onto Jay beneath you.

"Shit—!" Jay cursed as your weight pressed down on him, but his hand never left your dripping cunt. His fingers slipped inside, one, then two—stretching you open, curling it together with Jake's thrust inside your ass.

A scream ripped from your throat, back arching as the sudden intrusion sent you into an orgasm with no build-up. Your vision blurred, your body convulsing between them, the pleasure hitting so hard that it almost hurt.

"I'm cumming, oh fuck — I'm cumming!" Jake groaned, his hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, his grip on your waist loosening as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, just the sound of your ragged breaths mixing together. Then, slowly, Jake shifted, carefully pulling out of you with a soft, "Fuck, that was..." He trailed off, still catching his breath.

He rolled onto his side, tugging you with him, pressing a lazy, satisfied kiss to your temple. His lips curved into a smirk as he leaned over, stealing a slow kiss from Jay before turning back to you, brushing his knuckles against your flushed cheek.

"Tired?" Jay murmured, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. You managed a small hum in response, body sinking into the mattress, completely drained.

Normally, the three of you could go for hours, pushing past exhaustion until you were nothing but a boneless, overstimulated mess. But this time, it felt different. Deeper. More intense.

A warm hand smoothed down your spine. You didn't know whose it was—Jay or Jake—but it didn't matter. The heat of their bodies surrounded you, and within seconds, you slipped into unconsciousness.

Jake drifted off almost instantly, his breath evening out as he buried his face against your shoulder, one arm draped lazily over your waist. His soft snores filled the quiet room, his grip on you instinctive even in sleep.

Jay propped up on one elbow, let out a quiet exhale, glancing between the two of you. For a moment longer, he just watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way Jake's fingers twitched in his sleep, and the peaceful expression on your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached over, pulling the blanket over the both of you before turning onto his back.

You woke up suddenly, an odd sense of emptiness settling in your chest, and you don't even know why. The bed felt lighter, and the steady warmth that should have been there was missing.

Jake's loud, unbothered snores vibrated against your neck, his arm still draped lazily around your waist. You groaned softly, shifting carefully to pry yourself from his grip. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, but didn't wake as you finally slipped free.

Sitting up, you glanced around the dark room. Jay wasn't there.

Frowning, you grabbed one of Jake's oversized shirts from the floor and pulled it over your head, the hem falling mid-thigh. The air was cooler outside the warmth of the blankets as you quietly padded out of the room.

Descending the stairs, you caught the faint flicker of light coming from the living room. The low hum of a guitar solo played softly in the background, the screen illuminating Jay's face as he lounged on the couch, a half-empty beer bottle resting against his thigh.

"Why aren't you in bed?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. God, you sounded so clingy. But you couldn't help it. The bed felt too empty without him.

Jay's gaze flickered to you as he took another slow sip of his beer before replying, "Trying to make myself sleep."

You hummed in response, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled closer, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. Without hesitation, you sank onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you.

"What can I do to help?" you asked softly, eyes still heavy.

"Just gonna finish this," Jay replied, his eyes fixed on the TV in front of him. You let out a quiet yawn, your foot tapping idly against the floor as you waited.

"Go back upstairs," Jay murmured, still not looking at you. "I'll be up soon."

You shook your head, stubborn even in your drowsiness. Instead of leaving, you shifted closer, leaning against him, resting your head against his shoulder. He stiffened slightly, his whole body going still as he felt your breath warm against his neck.

"Why are you so awkward?" you mumbled, "we have sex, like, all the time, and there's still this... barrier."

Jay didn't answer. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—words you would never dare say if you were fully awake.

"Do you hate me?"

You weren't even sure why you said it. Maybe it was the way he always seemed just a little more distant than Jake. Maybe it was the fact that, even after all this time, you still couldn't quite read him the way you wanted to.

Jay finally let out a slow breath, placing his beer down on the table. Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head.

"You're an idiot," he muttered. But his hand found yours, fingers lacing together with yours, squeezing softly. "How could I ever hate you?"

"Dunno," you mumbled, melting into the his touch. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you just a little closer. Even through your drowsiness, you felt that familiar tingling sensation spreading through your chest.

Jay exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "I'm just... feeling guilty."

Your brows furrowed slightly, your cheek still pressed against his shoulder. "About what?"

He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I feel like I never really got the chance to properly apologize," he admitted. "For how I treated you in the beginning... and for your throat."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "My throat is fine," you murmured, nuzzling even closer.

Jay scoffed softly, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. "Still... sorry," he muttered.

You hummed in response, barely awake now, the warmth of his body lulling you further into relaxation. A comfortable silence settled between you before you mumbled, "Am not gonna take Jake away from you, y'know."

Jay stiffened slightly. "You're still thinking I'm jealous of you?"

You smiled, shifting against him. "Maybe? Either way, I like you both around me."

His grip on your hand loosened, and when you peeked up at him, his expression were hesitant, like he wasn't sure how to respond. But then, his lips quirked up, and he patted your head. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. "And I like it when you're rough... Be like that always, please."

Jay exhaled sharply, eyes darkening just a fraction. You let out a louder yawn, completely unaware of how your words were affecting him. "And I miss having your cock in my mouth."

Jay groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. "You really have no filter when you're sleepy, do you?"

You giggled against his chest. "Nope."

He let out a slow, deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Go to sleep before you say something that makes me do something stupid."

"Wouldn't mind that either..." You hummed again, but instead of settling down, you shifted, pressing your face into his lap, your lips grazing over the outline of his hardening cock.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Mm-mm," you hummed playfully, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.

His cock was already half-hard, twitching slightly as you pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip over the fabric.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your hair tightening, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail just slightly as he felt your warm mouth envelop the head of his cock. "Careful," he warned.

You hummed, the vibration making him groan low in his throat. Despite your sleepiness, your tongue flicked over his tip, lapping at the precum that had gathered there before slowly taking more of him into your mouth.

"Shit," he exhaled, his free hand gripping the couch cushion beside him. You were still half-asleep, barely aware of how needy and pliant you were being, and that made it so much worse for him.

Jay tugged at your hair gently, forcing you to look up at him. Your half-lidded eyes were glassy with sleep, your lips already glistening with spit. He cursed under his breath, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

"You're really something else, you know that?" he muttered. You only blinked up at him, Jay let out a slow breath, he guided your mouth back down, pushing his hips forward just enough for you to take him deeper.

"Since you miss it so much," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lips, "I'll make sure you don't forget how full your mouth can get."

He moved your head with his hand, setting the pace for you. His hips rocked forward in slow, shallow thrusts, careful not to push too deep. But you whined softly, taking control, swallowing more of him down.

Jay cursed, his abs tensing as he tried to hold back. The blowjob was sloppy—messy, lazy. You weren't focused, lost somewhere between sleep and need, your hands barely gripping his thighs for support. So he did it for you, controlling the movement, his fingers guiding your head as his cock disappeared between your lips over and over again.

His breathing grew heavier, his stomach clenching. "I'll be finishing soon," he whispered.

"Jay?"

Jay's head snapped up.

Jake stood at the staircase, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his hair messy from sleep, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned. His expression was still half-asleep, but he was clearly taking in the sight of you between Jay's legs.

Jay exhaled through his nose. "God, both of you are so needy."

Jake dropped onto the couch beside him, slumping slightly. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing through the strands of your hair that is falling. On a normal night, Jake would be on your back, pressing into you, fucking you together. But tonight was different. You were all just barely holding onto consciousness.

Jay turned his head as Jake leaned in, lips brushing over the curve of his jaw, then trailing down his neck. Jay's hand slid over Jake's waist, pulling him in as their mouths met in an unhurried kiss.

Jake hummed against him, fingers tracing lazy circles over Jay's chest, flicking over his nipple. Jay let out a breathy chuckle. "You're barely awake."

Jake smiled sleepily, nuzzling against Jay's neck. "And yet I still found you guys." He glanced down at you. "C'mon, babe, let him finish so we can all go back to bed."

You hummed softly in response, your mouth still wrapped around Jay, tongue swirling lazily over his length.

Your pace was slow, but it didn't matter, Jay was already on edge, his hips twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth fully. He could feel Jake beside him, the way his fingers flicker his nipples.

Jake's other hand moved lower, brushing over your shoulder before slipping beneath Jay's shirt, his palm pressing flat against his stomach.

Jay's breath hitched. "Shit," he muttered. He could barely focus anymore, the wet heat of your mouth, and the teasing touch of Jake's hands. It was too much all at once.

Jay pushed your head down further, his cock hitting the back of your throat as he came, his body tensing beneath Jake's touch. He held you there for a moment, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven pants before finally releasing his grip, letting you pull back.

You swallowed, licking your lips sleepily as you looked up at him.

"Good?" you murmured. "Can we sleep now?"

Jay let out a breathless chuckle, still caught in the aftershocks of his orgasm. His hand found your hair, stroking it in slowly.

"Yeah," he muttered, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Come on, let's go."

Jake yawned beside you, stretching his arms over his head before reaching for you, guiding you up onto your shaky legs. The three of you stumbled up the stairs, still half-asleep, and Jay's hands instinctively settled on your lower backs, guiding you forward.

Once you reached the bed, you collapsed onto the mattress without a second thought. Jay lay on his back, his chest beneath your cheek, while Jake curled up behind you, one arm lazily draped over your waist.

As your eyelids fluttered shut, one last thought flickered through your hazy mind.

This felt nice. Too nice.

And God forbid, you were starting to need it.

If your 18-year-old self could see you now, she'd probably laugh in your face. She'd roll her eyes, scoff, and tell you to get a grip, that liking two guys at the same time wasn't a big deal, that you were being dramatic. Maybe she'd even tell you to kill yourself for overthinking it. Because back then, emotions were easy to dismiss. Love wasn't something you spent time analyzing; it was either there, or it wasn't.

Now you were 22, caught in something you didn't even have a name for. A situationship? Friends with benefits? Whatever it was, it consumed you.

The longer you were with them, the more you realized how easily you had settled into this dynamic. You had become comfortable—too comfortable. The way you sought them out, the way you melted under their touches, the way you craved them when they weren't around. It wasn't just physical neediness anymore. You liked them. Both of them. Romantically.

But you told yourself to just go with the flow.

People fell in love with their friends all the time, didn't they? And most of them survived it.

Besides, you were lucky. The two people you liked not only wanted you around, but they treated you well. They welcomed you into their arms without hesitation. And on top of that, the three of you had the best sex imaginable. It felt like an advantage.

And it was enough.

"What shade do I get?" You asked, your arms wrapped around Jake's as you stood in front of the display of matte lipsticks. Your fingers skimmed over the rows of colors, indecisive.

Jake tilted his head, studying them before picking one up and swiping it across his wrist.

"Are you sure you want this brand?" he asked, rubbing the spot with his thumb. "It feels kinda sticky."

"Because it's a super stay," you explained. "I tried it once when I was sucking you off, and it didn't even smudge."

Jake's eyes lit up instantly, his mouth parting slightly before he turned back to the display.

"Really?" He grabbed a few more shades without hesitation, tossing them into your basket. "I think you should get all of these."

You laughed, watching as Jake eagerly tossed more lipsticks into your basket. "You just want an excuse to see me test them out, don't you?"

Jake smirked, unbothered by how obvious he was. "Of course. I wanna know which one looks the best when you're on your knees."

Heat crawled up your neck, and you playfully smacked his arm. "Pervert."

"And yet you love it," he teased, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

Before you could retort, another voice joined in. "What are you two up to now?"

You turned to see Jay approaching, a cup of iced coffee in hand. He arched a brow at the sight of the basket full of lipsticks before looking at you expectantly.

"She's getting new lipstick," Jake answered for you, grinning. "Ones that don't smudge, even when she's—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence. "Shut up!" you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

Jay's eyes flickered with amusement, sipping his coffee slowly. "I see. So, should I assume you're going to be testing them out on us later?"

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. "I hate both of you."

It was enough, really.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at the elevator mirror, taking in the reflection of the three of you. Jay stood in the middle, arms weighed down with shopping bags that you and Jake had gleefully filled. Jake leaned against the mirrored wall with a lazy grin, one hand in his pocket, the other draped over your shoulder.

It felt really nice, having them both around.

-

"D-Don't ruin my hair, please!" you moaned. "I need to attend some birthday party—ahh!"

Your dress was bunched up around your waist, panties tugged to the side, leaving you open and exposed as Jay thrust into you from behind.

"You should've thought about that before teasing me all day," Jay growled.

"I knew getting ready here was a bad idea," you whimpered, fingers scrambling against the bathroom sink for support. Your reflection in the mirror was a mess, flushed skin, glazed eyes, lips parted as moans spilled out despite your best efforts to stay quiet. And to make things worse, Jake was right there, watching.

His shorts were already pulled down just enough, one hand lazily stroking himself as he leaned against the counter. He looked amused, completely unbothered by the fact that Jay was fucking you senseless only a few feet away.

Jay caught his gaze and smirked. "Jake. Shut her up."

Jake moved immediately, stepping in front of you, palming your jaw before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"You're gonna ruin my makeu—mmph!"

Your protest was cut short as Jake pressed his cock past your lips, groaning as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him. He didn't waste time, thrusting shallowly, forcing you to take him deeper.

"Don't talk when your mouth is full." Jake chuckled, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

Jay adjusted his grip on your hips, making sure you were positioned just right between them before snapping his hips forward, hitting deeper. You moaned helplessly around Jake's cock, eyes rolling back.

In the end, you were late to the party.

"What the fuck? The call time was 7:00, and it's already 8:30!" Sunoo huffed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he grabbed your face, tilting it side to side. "And your mascara is a disaster. Were you crying or just getting absolutely wrecked?"

You blinked at him innocently while he pulled out a makeup wipe, trying to salvage the mess.

"Traffic," you exhaled, barely suppressing a smirk.

Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck that way. "Yeah, traffic on Jay's and Jake's dicks, maybe."

You ignore him, instead you spotted Sunghoon in the crowd and immediately beelined toward him, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Happy birthday!" you chirped, grinning.

With finals finally over, the weight of the semester lifted from your shoulders. You and Sunoo jumped up and down in pure excitement, squealing like kids on Christmas morning as you rattled off ideas for how to spend your break.

"I have enough savings to travel abroad! You said you wanted to go to Spain, right?" you gushed, practically bouncing on your feet.

Sunoo gasped dramatically, gripping your shoulders. "Are we actually doing this?! Oh my God, imagine us drinking sangria in Barcelona, living our best lives!"

The two of you shrieked in unison, drawing a few odd glances from passing students, but neither of you cared. The rush of post-finals freedom was intoxicating.

"Maybe I should ask Jay and Jake if they want to come," you mused, pulling out your phone.

Sunoo's jaw dropped. "What?! I mean, Jake is fun to be around, but I don't want to hear any of your sex noises while we're sightseeing!"

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder. "We wouldn't do that with you around! I have self-respect, you know!"

Sunoo gave you a deadpan stare. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as he pulled out his phone. "Anyway, where are they? Their exams finished before ours, and I literally texted in the group chat that we're getting samgyup."

He started typing furiously, muttering under his breath. Then, suddenly, he froze. "Oh?" Sunoo blinked at his screen. "Wait. It's their anniversary today?"

Your brows furrowed. "What?" You peeked over his shoulder at his phone.

There, on his feed, was a post from a user named Ni-ki, someone Sunoo was mutuals with. The caption read: Happy four years to my parents <3

Your stomach twisted. A cold sensation washed over you, like someone had dumped ice water over your head.

Four years. Four years of them. Of course, before you, before any of this—there was just the two of them. It was so obvious, wasn't it? Relationships were meant for two people.

You swallowed down the sudden lump in your throat and forced a smile, pretending like it didn't bother you. "Let's just go eat samgyup, just the two of us," you told Sunoo, keeping your tone light. "They're probably celebrating."

Sunoo studied your face, eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Sure."

The rest of the evening, you tried. You tried to be present while grilling meat, while sipping soju, while joking with Sunoo. You tried to enjoy the post-exam freedom, to let yourself have fun while shopping.

But every few minutes, your fingers would twitch toward your phone. You'd glance at the screen, waiting for a message. A text. Something.

Nothing. Your chest ached, you exhaled sharply, shoving your phone into your pocket as you turned back to the skincare aisle in front of you. Focus.

It was normal. They were a couple. They needed their own time, their own space. You were just a third person. A fun little addition. Someone to spice things up in bed.

It was enough. Wasn't it?

The air was crisp when you arrived at Jay's apartment, adjusting your jacket as you stood outside the door. When it finally swung open, Jake was there, a warm grin on his face.

"Hey, baby. Cold out?" he teased, pulling you inside before you could answer. His arms wrapped around you immediately. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of whatever Jay was cooking in the kitchen.

"What's your plan for Christmas?" he asked, voice light as he led you inside.

You shrugged, barely thinking about it. "Not sure yet."

Jay glanced up from the kitchen, raising a brow. "No family trip this year?"

"Probably not. I might just...stay around here."

Jake's grin widened. "Good. Then you can spend it with us."

You let them pull you in. You cooked together, the three of you moving seamlessly in the kitchen. Jake stole bites of the food while Jay smacked his hand away, muttering curses under his breath. You laughed, pressing into both of them, soaking in the easy comfort of their presence.

Later, a movie played in the background while the three of you curled up together on the couch. Jake was the first to initiate the making out, his lips finding yours, his hands skimming your waist. Normally, you'd melt into him.

But tonight... Something felt off. You weren't in the mood. You excused yourself quickly, heading to the bathroom, pressing a hand against your abdomen as you shut the door behind you.

Breathe. A dull pain throbbed low in your stomach, the kind that made your body feel sluggish. Right, that explained it. You were on your period.

When you stepped back into the living room, both of them looked up.

"Everything okay?" Jake asked, brow furrowing slightly.

You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I'm just...on my period."

Jay stood immediately, already reaching for his wallet. "Do you need pads? Tampons?"

You blinked. "Uh...yeah. Pads, please."

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and left. You stared at the door even after he was gone. Why does he have to be so fucking perfect?

There was no sex that night. Instead, the three of you played board games. Jay made you a hot chocolate, murmuring that it might help with the cramps. Jake pulled you into his lap during the game, rubbing your back absentmindedly.

It should've felt nice. And it did. But at dinner, as Jay and Jake stood in the kitchen, bickering over a recipe, laughter spilling between them, you watched them, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

You smiled, ignoring the dull ache in your chest.

Because they were perfect together.

Because they had always been perfect together.

And yet, for some reason, you felt like you were ruining things between them. A third presence in something that had already been whole. You weren't meant to be here—not really.

Why did it hurt?

You scoffed at yourself, shaking your head. It's the period hormones, you reasoned. That's all. That's why your emotions were all over the place. That's why everything stung more than it should.

Just go with the flow.

You'd been telling yourself that for months. That it was enough. But then... why were you acting like this?

The three of you were outside now, the winter air biting at your cheeks as Jake built a snowman. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he packed snow together, his energy as endless as ever.

"We should enroll together for the next semester! Maybe we can be classmates!" Jake chirped, glancing up at you with a grin.

You let out a soft laugh, exhaling into the cold. "Yeah, maybe." But your voice lacked its usual excitement.

Jay stepped beside him, pulling Jake's scarf up higher, adjusting his gloves with careful hands. Jake giggled, shaking his head playfully to mess up Jay's hair in return.

Jay leaned in, kissing him softly. You looked away immediately, biting your lip. Scolded yourself for feeling that ache again.

It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't. But why did your chest feel so fucking tight?

You let out a slow breath, forcing a smile as Jake turned back to his snowman. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you shifted on your feet, rubbing your gloved hands together for warmth.

Just go with the flow.

You're overthinking again. But even as you tried to swallow down the tightness in your chest, it remained lingering.

"Hey."

You blinked, snapping back to reality when Jay called for you. He had stepped away from Jake, his dark eyes searching yours.

"Yeah?" You hoped your voice sounded normal.

Jay studied you for a second longer before shaking his head slightly. "You okay?"

"Of course," you answered too quickly, but he didn't look convinced.

Your stomach twisted, and for a brief second, you wondered if you should just say it. Say what had been weighing on you. But what would even be the point? They are happy.

"You just look... off."

You laughed, waving him off. "I have cramps. That's all." That part wasn't a lie.

"Want me to buy you something for it?"

Your heart clenched, even though it was a simple, kind offer. You shook your head. "No, I'll be fine."

Jay's stare lingered for a second longer, like he didn't fully believe you, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached out, ruffling your hair before walking back toward Jake, who was still messing with the snowman's face.

The two of them laughed over something, their voices mixing into the winter air. You crossed your arms over your chest, forcing your gaze to the sky. You shouldn't feel like this.

You shouldn't feel like the outsider.

The more you lingered in these feelings, the more salty you became. The bitterness wasn't so easy to swallow anymore.

It crept into the way you spoke, the way you moved around them, the way your smile felt just a little too forced when Jake clung to Jay like he was his whole world.

And maybe he was. Maybe they were each other's whole world, and you were just a guest in it.

By day three of Christmas break, they asked you to hang out again. And honestly, why?

Your period meant no sex, no fun. So why did they still want you here?

That was what annoyed you the most. Because now, without sex to distract you, you were seeing them for what they really were. A couple. The way they moved around each other, the way their bodies fit so effortlessly together it wasn't just about lust. It was real. And it was in front of your own fucking eyes.

Jake, as always, was in Jay's lap.

The movie played, but you weren't really paying attention. Instead, all you could focus on was Jake's soft giggles, the absentminded way Jay's fingers skimmed over his arm.

They were whispering, laughing, caught up in their own world.

"I can't hear the movie." Your voice was tight, teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached.

They both stilled, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Jake mumbled, shrinking back slightly. A moment later, he moved toward you, arms reaching to pull you into their space, like he always did, but you leaned away.

The rejection was small, but it might as well have been a gunshot. Jake's hands hesitated mid-air before he let them drop.

"Forget it," you sighed, standing up. "I'm going to bed."

"You're sleeping over?" Jake asked, confused.

"Is that a problem?" Your voice came out sharper than intended, and Jake immediately shut his mouth, exchanging a glance with Jay.

You didn't wait for a response. Instead, you made your way to Jay's room, shutting the door behind you a little harder than necessary.

"I think it's the period," Jake mumbled, gaze fixed on the staircase. "I've never been with a girl before, but the guys on the soccer team always complain about their girlfriends getting moody when they're on it."

Jay didn't answer. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, staring at the flickering images on the screen, lips pressed in a thin line, because he knew exactly what it was.

And if he was right, things were only going to get more complicated.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt the bed shift.

Jake's arms carefully adjusted around you, pulling you closer as he sighed against your hair. On the other side, Jay moved in, his arm draping over your waist, fitting seamlessly between you and Jake.

You stayed still, breathing evenly, willing your body to relax even though your mind was wide awake.

But you couldn't sleep, the weight of their arms was suffocating.

By the time their breathing evened out, soft snores filling the space, you slowly peeled yourself away. Jake stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Neither did Jay. Quietly, you reached for your bag, slipping into your winter coat and boots.

And then, without looking back, you walked out.

     The cold bit at your skin the second you stepped outside. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. The only place open at this hour was a small K-Mart, its neon sign buzzing weakly against the night sky.

You stepped inside, the warm air hitting your face as you walked straight to the ramen aisle. Jin ramen, tteokbokki, enoki rolls—your hands moved on autopilot, gathering ingredients.

But when you stopped, staring blankly at the boiling water in the store's self-service kitchen, you felt it again.

That unbearable weight in your chest. Your lips quivered. Not from the cold, but from the pressure threatening to spill over. Why did it have to be like this?

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing hard. The sound of the store's entrance sliding open barely registered in your mind. Footsteps shuffled against the linoleum floor, followed by the sound of complaining.

"Why did the only open K-Mart have to be this far? God, I'm freezing—grr. Fuck your ramen addiction, really."

A familiar voice. Your head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

Heeseung's girlfriend blinked at you, a polite smile forming on her lips until she actually saw your face.

And then, before you could stop it—before you could pretend—your tears fell.

Her face immediately softened, she just pulled you into her arms, tucking your head against her chest. Her hands rubbed slow, comforting circles against your back, her body shielding you from the curious eyes of the late-night shoppers.

"Shit, you're really crying," she muttered, not unkindly.

You let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of her coat. Heeseung appeared beside the two of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight. He exchanged a glance with his girlfriend, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pack of tissues, and wordlessly held it out to you.

The three of you sat in silence, eating your ramen. Heeseung and his girlfriend didn't ask why you had been crying, didn't pry or push for an explanation. Instead, Heeseung kept the conversation light, cracking goofy jokes that forced small chuckles out of you, helping ease the tightness in your chest.

After finishing your meal, they drove you back to your dorm. As you stepped out of the car, Heeseung waved lazily, and his girlfriend leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek, smirking as she teased, "If you ever need a distraction, I'd be happy to be between your legs any day."

You managed a laugh, shaking your head as you muttered, "I'll keep that in mind."

But as soon as you closed the door behind you, the ache in your chest returned.

Avoidance was the only thing you could do now.

Sunoo sat cross-legged on your bed, finalizing the ticket purchase for Spain. You had only brought up the idea of a trip yesterday, and now he had a flight booked for tomorrow morning, jokingly humming some song about being a backburner.

Of course, you felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, sitting beside him. "I know I've been all over the place."

Sunoo barely looked up from his phone. "Yeah, yeah, you always apologize," he sighed dramatically. Then, he shot you a pointed look. "But this time, you better focus on me, okay?"

Your phone buzzed on the bed beside you. A string of messages from Jay and Jake.

— Where did you go last night? — Why didn't you wake us up? — Are you okay? — Talk to us.

You hesitated before typing a short reply: Sorry for being weird. I was just in a bad mood. I'll be gone for a while, going on a trip with Sunoo.

You didn't wait for their response before silencing your notifications.

Spain was beautiful. Sunoo dragged you through every tourist spot, every café, every club he could find. You drank, laughed, danced until your feet hurt, flirted with strangers just to feel something different. But no matter how much fun you had, no matter how many distractions Sunoo shoved in front of you, the ache never really went away.

Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, you would catch yourself zoning out, your mind slipping back to them. Wondering if they missed you.

By the time you returned home, enrollment for the second semester had already begun. Sunoo still had no clue about your tangled-up feelings, and you had done your best to keep it that way. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake had stopped flooding your messages, the once-active group chat now reduced to occasional TikTok links exchanged between Sunoo and Jake.

"We should try to get into the same classes again," Sunoo chirped, pulling you out of your thoughts as you both walked toward campus. "I swear to God, if you abandon me for someone else again, I'm—"

He cut himself off when you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

Because just a few feet away, by the enrollment booths, stood Jay and Jake.

Jake's eyes lit up the moment he saw you, his signature wide grin stretching across his face. Before you could react, he was already pulling you into a tight hug, his familiar scent of clean laundry and something subtly musky wrapped around you.

"You're back!" he chirped excitedly, rocking you slightly in his embrace.

You stiffened. Your hands hovered awkwardly over his back, unsure whether to push him away or let yourself melt into the comfort of his touch.

Sunoo, however, had no such hesitation. With an exaggerated huff, he reached forward and pinched Jake's waist.

"Hey! You're trying to steal my girl again!" Sunoo scolded.

Jake only laughed, sticking his tongue out playfully as he tightened his hold on you. "Not stealing, just borrowing." He turned his head, his lips brushing close to your ear. "You ignored us for so long. You didn't even bring us back a souvenir."

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a small smile. "It was... a last-minute trip."

Jake pulled back slightly, still holding onto your wrists, his eyes scanning your face. Jay, on the other hand, remained silent. Unlike Jake, he didn't rush forward to greet you. He stood a step behind, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was observing you.

Trying to break the tension, you shifted your attention back to Jake, forcing yourself to engage in conversation. "So, uh... how was break for you guys?"

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but Jay beat him to it.

"You tell us," Jay said. "You're the one who disappeared."

"I—I just needed some space," you said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Things were just... a lot."

"A lot," Jay repeated slowly, tilting his head. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, before settling back on your face. "And now?"

"Now?" you echoed, caught off guard.

"Are you still needing space?"

There was an underlying challenge in his words. Like he was daring you to say yes. You hesitated, you should say yes. That would be the smart thing to do. The right thing. You had spent the entire trip convincing yourself that distance was what you needed.

But standing here, with Jake still holding onto you and Jay pinning you down with his gaze, you realized, you didn't actually want space. You just wanted them, but you couldn't say that.

So instead, you forced a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean... I'm here now, aren't I?"

Jake beamed, satisfied with your answer. "That means we're celebrating! Let's go out tonight."

Sunoo let out an exaggerated shriek, eyes widening in disbelief. "Excuse me?!" He placed a hand over his chest, looking personally offended by the sudden plan.

Jake only laughed, completely unfazed. "Of course you’re coming!" He slung an arm around Sunoo’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake.

Sunoo scoffed dramatically, swatting at his arm. "You act like I want to go. But fine, whatever." He shot you a sideways glance, eyes sharp, knowing. "If she wants to go, we’ll go."

And so, you went. The four of you ended up at a new restaurant, one that Jake had been eager to try. But the moment you sat down, regret settled in your bones.

You tried to act normal, laughing when Jake cracked a joke, nodding along when Jay spoke, but you couldn’t hold it together. Your fingers fidgeted endlessly with the edge of your sleeve, your mind drifting too far. You weren’t present. Not really.

Sunoo noticed halfway through dinner, he leaned in slightly. "Maybe we should go."

You didn’t hesitate. "Yeah. Let’s go."

And now, you were crying again.

In the car. On the drive home. Wherever. It didn’t even matter anymore. Sunoo sighed, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you in a careful hold. "Hey, hey, it’s okay," he murmured, his palm rubbing slow circles against your back, trying to soothe you. But there was an edge of panic in his voice because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why you were crying. 

And you couldn’t tell him, because admitting it would make it real.

You could only remember what he had told you before. "Don’t lose yourself."

But you had, you had lost yourself the moment you started falling for them.

It was sad. And stupid. And kind of funny in a cruel way. Funny how easily you fell. Funny how, in the beginning, you kept telling yourself that this was enough. But it wasn’t.

And now, you regretted everything, because it only made your feelings stronger.

You thought you could handle it. You thought you could play it cool, stay casual. But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You were pathetic—because you let yourself believe you could be this comfortable, that you could exist between them without falling apart.

But you weren’t comfortable. You weren’t okay.

The only space they made for you was in their bed, not in their love.

[bambi-lamb]

seeing green

Summary: So maybe you made a not-so-great choice... in your defense, it was fun at the time. But now, looking at Wanda's raised eyebrow and dark smile, maybe you shouldn't have tried to make her so jealous. Hindsight is everything.

Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, dacryphilia, oral sex, cunnilingus, mommy kink, mean mommy wanda!!

WC: 1,266

A/N: was hit by a spark of irritation— i mean, inspiration, today

You pant loudly in the living room, gasping for breath. The curtains are drawn, only a thin shaft of light spilling onto the rug and one arm of the couch.

Wanda is leaned leisurely back against the couch, smiling darkly up at you as you cry out. Her hand stops for just one moment, and she hums softly as you twitch in her grasp.

"You sure you don't want Avery here instead, detka? You certainly seemed to be having a good time with her."

"No, no— no mommy just want you don't want her please— pleaseplease please let me come," you whine, squirming in Wanda's lap. She allows it for but a moment before her free hand clamps down on your hip again, holding you still.

"Really? I don't think I believe you…"

Wanda licks her lips, tracing soft, slow circles around your clit with the pad of her finger.

"Please, mommy. Don't want her, just want you. Just want mommy," you plead desperately, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"Hmm," Wanda hums, tutting softly when you whine again. "I don't know if I believe that, detka. You were all over her." Her voice dips dangerously, eyes flashing. You can tell she's displeased, and you flush; she's not wrong—you had been basically attached at the hip to your newest work friend Avery.

Normally, you wouldn't spend so much time with her, but it had been at least a little bit fun to see the way Wanda's jaw worked through her displeasure, and you'd enjoyed the dark glare she'd kept leveled on you the entire night. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing how much she wanted you, and so maybe you'd pushed it a little too far, leaning into Avery heavier or laughing a little brighter than you normally world.

It's not fun now as Wanda stops for probably the 6th or 7th time in a row, bringing you down from the edge of your orgasm and holding you still as tears drip down your face.

"You look so pretty, detka," she murmurs, leaning forward to lick away some of your tears.

You inhale sharply, feeling more tears spill over as she chuckles in the back of her throat.

"Regretting it now, honey?" she coos softly, thumb still pressed to your swollen clit.

"I'm sorry, mommy," you whimper, trying your best attempt at the saddest puppy-dog eyes you can manage, but she doesn't budge.

"Oh, pretty girl, you should've thought about that before you decided to spend the night flirting with Avery." Wanda hums dismissively as you whine and start crying again.

"No use crying over spilled milk, baby," she chuckles. "What's done is done. Maybe next time you'll think twice before you try another little stunt like this one."

"Please, mommy," you beg, wracking your brain for anything you can possibly say to appease Wanda. "Please, I belong to you, mommy."

Wanda looks at you sharply, interest piqued as she tilts her head slightly.

You chase the tail end of your declaration eagerly, perking up as you continue babbling.

"I'm yours, mommy, please. I just want you. I'm all yours."

Her thumb restarts its slow rhythm against your clit, and you nearly sob with relief, chasing the feeling as your mouth runs on and on without a single thought.

"Belong to mommy, please, just for mommy, all yours."

Her thumb is firm against your clit, and you shiver at the stimulation — it's too much and not enough all at once, and you yelp softly when she begins rubbing faster. Her entire hand is dripping wet, no thanks to you, but she just keeps looking up at you, encouraging the deluge of words flooding out of you.

"Please, mommy, please let me come, please."

Just as you reach the very edge, Wanda stops again, and you feel the tears restart without warning, pouring down your face as you whimper desperately.

"Tell me who you belong to again, baby," she coos, brushing your tears away with her thumb this time.

"You, mommy, please," you whine. "Belong to you."

"Then how come you were basically sitting on Avery's lap the whole night, huh?"

You sob softly, tears drip-dripping unstoppably now.

"Because I wanted to make you jealous, mommy," you hiccup, whining when Wanda presses down on your clit.

"And have you learned your lesson, detka?"

You nod fervently, abashed and apologetic. Wanda hums absently, but her thumb starts moving again, and you melt into the touch.

"Please, mommy, I belong to you," you profess eagerly, tears still flowing.

"It's okay, detka, I know. Be a good girl and tell me again, why don't you? Whose girl are you, hm?"

"Your girl, mommy," you hiccup softly, moaning when she loosens her grip on your hip and lets you start to rock against her finger.

"Again, detka, say it again," she whispers, eyes sharp and intense.

"I belong to you, mommy. I'm all yours. Please."

"One more time, baby, I just wanna hear you say it one more time and then you can come, okay?"

Wanda looks nearly feral, her pupils blown as she leans into your space, her thumb rubbing fast, tight circles over your clit. You can't help but shiver, gushing against her hand again as your orgasm fast-approaches.

"I'm yours, Wanda," you murmur, softening as you see her breathe a shuddery sigh of relief. You also lean forward, drawn to her magnetic allure, and meet her in the middle for a feverish kiss.

"Mine," she mumbles as she nibbles on your bottom lip, thumb rubbing furiously over your clit.

You jolt back, crying out as she drives her index and middle finger into your cunt, working double-time in an effort to make you come.

"Come for me, baby. You can come now," she's murmuring into your neck, but you can barely tell she's saying anything at all, the vibrations of sound a distant consideration as your vision whites out completely.

When you come to again, she's rearranged you entirely so you're lying down on the couch. You have a moment to just blink and breathe as sound and feeling returns to you, and as soon as you can feel your fingertips again, you whimper.

Wanda, tucked between your thighs, is licking softly at your cunt, dark green eyes intent on your expression.

You tremble your way through another orgasm, shivering as she crawls up the length of your body to settle herself on your chest.

"You did such a good job, detka," she murmurs softly, leaning up for a soft kiss.

"Felt good," you whisper in return, blushing lightly when she grins into your neck.

She reaches up to run her fingers through your hair, and sits up momentarily to reach for a blanket that she promptly pulls over top of both of you. As you lie on the couch, you hear Wanda's breath slowly even out, and your eyes begin to droop.

Clearly, though, she isn't really asleep, because you hear her voice, softer and more hesitant, float up.

"You don't actually like her that much, do you?"

You smother your grin against the top of her head and pull her up for another kiss, this one longer and warmer.

"No, I don't," you reply easily, watching the way the crease between her eyebrows smooths over and she finally seems to relax.

"I love you and only you," you murmur softly. "You're my favorite person."

She hums contentedly and presses a kiss to your chin.

"I love you too, detka."

She sits up momentarily, squinting at you suspiciously.

"But don't do that again."

[girlkisser13]

size kink with jason todd

pairings: jason todd x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), size kink, unprotected sex (practice safe sex guys), degradation/dumbification, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, creampie

divider by @plutism

he’d be lying if he said that his self control was still at it’s peak. jason had been teasing you for ages now, watching the way your pretty cunt clenched around nothing every time he drew his fingers away.

“jason,” you choked out another mewl, desperate fingers scrabbling for him. “please, please. i need you!”

a gentle hand brushes away the tears that had collected at the edge of your vision as jason’s beautiful eyes fill your gaze. a color so blue that it looked like someone had captured the brilliance of lightning flashing within his eyes.

“you look so pretty like this,” he hums, a smile gracing his lips when he sees your eyes roll back. “all desperate for my cock huh? what happened to the shy little maiden back then?”

she was gone, long corrupted by him. not that he was complaining.

he leans back between your spread legs, eyeing your exposed folds with a sort of hunger that had you trembling. “look at you,” he sighs, stroking his cock at the intoxicating sight before him. “all spread out for me to enjoy. it’d be a shame if i left you hanging like this wouldn’t it?”

“no!” your reaction was instant, a sharp pitiful noise of desperation at the thought of him leaving you hanging.

“just kidding.” he grabs your thighs to drag you closer to him. “since you asked so nicely hmm?”

there is an audible sound of pleasure torn from the both of you when he finally teases the head of his cock against your dripping slit.

yet, the thrumming anticipation is accompanied by the familiar sense of fear that flashes in you when you glimpse the sheer girth and length that has your eyes tensing shut.

no matter how many times jason had fucked you, his size still had your nerves jangling uncomfortably.

sensing your anxiety, his large hands shift from your cheek to cup your face as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your parted lips, briefly savouring the sugary sweetness that came with the kiss.

“relax baby,” he hushes, but there is a visible sight of feral excitement that lines his smile at the thought of sinking himself into your tight heat.

you can’t help but squeal when he buries himself into your spasming cunt, your sensitive walls fluttering over every ridge and vein of his cock that has him groaning.

“cumming already?” he asks, as if he couldn’t see your cute cunt creaming around his length. you can feel the laugh that rumbles through his broad chest.

too embarassed to reply, you nod, fingers finding their way to close around his wrists.

“you’re taking me so well” jason coos, one finger reaching to roll your puffy clit, earning him a shuddered jolt through your body.

he pins you down with ease, barely exerting any effort at all. “good girl, taking my cock so well, guess this pussy was really made for me right? maybe i don’t even have to play with your clit anymore, you’re going to squirt like a little whore for me anyway.”

grunting, jason buries himself deeper, thighs trembling at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him. you sniffle at the stretch but make no move to stop him from rocking further until his entire length is buried inside of your tight hole.

the feeling of being stuffed draws a sharp gasp out of you, your back arching, putting your tits on full display. when you catch sight of jason, his eyes are blown wide, pupils so blue that you could get lost in them.

you’re nearly half delirious at the feeling of his warmth sheathed inside of you, barely able to keep your eyes open when jason starts to move.

he weighs you down and humps your tender cunt, making sure to hit your sensitive clit every time his hips meet yours over the obscene sound of his balls slapping your ass.

you can feel your orgasm rising each time he pushes forward, the pain of his cock knocking against your cervix blends seamlessly with the pleasure when he rubs against your sweet spot.

“does it feel good baby?” he huffs in your ear.

“it feels so good, jay!” you nod, “please, give me more!”

he feels you getting wetter and wetter, knowing the way your tight little body trembles when you’re reaching your orgasm.

“jason,” you gasp, tears clinging to your lashes when you reach your climax. your fingernails dig crescent moons into his skin. he grins at your face, morphed into a completely lewd painting of euphoric pleasure.

“you came so fast,” he pants, quickening his pace. “what about me?”

“i’m sensitive,” you try to stop him with a pathetic whine, small hands pushing against his chiselled chest so weakly that he laughs at your efforts.

“stay still baby,” he groans when he feels your cunt clamp down around him again. you would be the death of him one day. “i’m going to ruin this pretty pussy of yours.”

who are you to deny him? you finally lay back against the pillows, letting him fuck you like he wants to as he presses your knees against your chest to assault your poor cunt as you gush everywhere, making a mess on the bed.

jason has a perfect view of your cunt, the sight of your small figure underneath him and the way your hole is stretched to accomodate around his cock only spurs him on.

you are so cute this way. letting him stretch you past your usual limit, your tits bounce with each thrust and jason can’t resist placing one of your tits in his palm, relishing the softness of them in his touch.

he can feel the plush resistance when he jackhammers into you, forcing another orgasm out of you until you’re reduced to a babbling mess with your tongue hanging out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back in that adorable expression he absolutely loves.

“f-fuck.” he feels his own coil of pleasure snapping in him as he succumbs to his own orgasm at the way your gummy walls clamp down around his throbbing cock. “you’re gonna take every drop of my cum in your pussy,” he growls, refusing to pull out until he sees you nod weakly.

“good girl.” he groans, finally satisfied of his own high before leaning down to occupy the space beside you.

[puppym3]

felix x reader ─── third times the charm

synopsis - after a tension-filled series of rounds of a game as innocent as mario kart, you find yourself in his room again. while the both of you admit it's wrong to want to keep this going, it feels too good to stop.

wc: 10.6k

silly tags: MDNI! 18+, bsf!felix, afab!reader, definitely mutual pining., angst, fluff, they're both idiots, reader is an overthinker, also incredibly horny (they both are), felix knows he's hot, confident felix, a lot of tension, banter with other members, jeongin is clueless, pt 1 -> here, pt 2 -> here

MDNI!! smut warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS: smut (obv), multiple orgasms (f + m rec), felix is an experienced pussy eater, munch felix, fingering (f rec), hair pulling, thigh fucking

The decision had been unanimous.

Game night was happening, no excuses. The guys had declared it a celebration for you finally “getting better,” though you were pretty sure they just wanted an excuse to go all out before their schedules became too hectic. They had a full week ahead, packed to the brim with rehearsals, recordings, and commitments.

And you, well, you had spent the entire day inside your own head.

No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to Felix.

It wasn’t even a question anymore, you liked him. You had figured that much out, though the realization had done nothing to help the growing ache inside you. Because liking him didn’t mean he liked you back. Not in the same way.

Sure, it wasn’t normal to make out with your friends. It wasn’t normal to touch them the way you had. It wasn’t normal to watch them come apart under your hands, gasping and trembling and so devastatingly beautiful that the memory alone had you pressing your thighs together all over again.

But Felix had said it himself.

Just once. (Two times...)

Like it was something to be forgotten. Like it was something that shouldn’t have meant anything.

And if he didn’t want it to mean anything, then… what did that make us?

The thought made your stomach twist, doubt creeping in like an unwelcome whisper. Had you crossed a line? Had you pushed too far, let your selfish desires take precedence over his comfort?

You hadn’t asked. Not really. You had just… reacted, lost in the heat of the moment, swept up in the way he had looked at you, the way he had sounded, breathless and desperate, breaking apart under your touch.

Had you misread him? Had he only gone along with it because you had pushed?

The thought made your chest tighten painfully.

But then you remembered his words.

"you won’t run away after?"

He had asked you that. If he had felt uncomfortable, he would’ve told you. Right?

And yet, knowing that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on your chest, didn’t stop the anxious knot forming in your stomach as you lay curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You wanted to see him.

Not just because you were still pent up, still aching from earlier, but because the idea of avoiding him, of really avoiding him, made you feel like you were drowning.

You couldn’t run, And you didn’t want to.

But at the same time, the idea of going up to him, of acting normal, felt impossible. You had no idea what to say, how to look at him without giving yourself away. What if you made things even weirder? What if-

A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts.

"Yah, you better not be bailing on game night," Jisung’s voice rang out, muffled through the wood. "We already decided. If you’re in there with another mystery illness, I will drag you out myself."

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. Of course he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.

Another voice chimed in, Changbin this time. "Are you scared I'm going to kick your butt?"

"Nobody is scared of that," Jeongin added, amusement lacing his voice. "Nobody."

There was a murmur of agreement from the others, and you could practically hear Changbin's expression behind the door.

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up.

You couldn't stay in here all night. No matter what you felt, no matter what had happened between you and Felix, the guys deserved better than that. And it's not like you were going to be alone with Felix anyways. There would be no way to even have that talk until much, much later.

Besides, it had been a while since you'd seen the other members, let alone interacted with them in a relaxed way like this.

So you steeled yourself, pushing your anxieties and worries aside for the moment, and made your way to the door, opening it with a smile that felt almost natural.

"I'm here," you announced, giving a little mock bow.

Jisung crossed his arms, looking you up and down with mock suspicion. "Took you long enough. We almost resorted to breaking your door down."

Minho scoffed. "I was just gonna let them rot in there."

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. "You should've let me, what game are we playing?"

"We’ve got a lineup," Hyunjin said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he steered you toward the living room. "Some Mario Kart, some Uno, maybe something else. It’s gonna be a bloodbath."

You let them guide you into the space where everyone was already sprawled out on the couches and floor, setting up the Switch and shuffling through stacks of games.

And then your gaze landed on him.

Felix was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a controller already in hand. He looked up at the exact moment you did, his eyes meeting yours.

Your breath caught, heat creeping up your neck, and suddenly it was like your body remembered everything from earlier. The way he had shuddered under you, the way he had looked at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted, voice wrecked-

You tore your gaze away, forcing yourself to focus on anything else. The couch. The snacks. The ridiculous arguments already breaking out between Seungmin and I.N over who was sitting where.

Act normal.

"Hey," Felix’s voice was softer than the others, quiet enough that it was meant just for you.

You swallowed, forcing a small smile as you moved to sit down near him, keeping a careful amount of space between you. "Hey."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he turned back to the game screen, adjusting his grip on the controller.

You clenched your hands together in your lap, pressing your thighs together, willing yourself to not think about how close he was.

Jisung plopped down next to you, completely oblivious to the way your entire body was warring with itself. "Alright, losers. No mercy."

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus. It’s just a game. You’ve played this a million times. Just concentrate.

The race countdown began, the screen lighting up as the first match of Mario Kart kicked off. You gripped your controller, determined to shake off whatever ridiculous spell Felix had on you.

And then you made the mistake of glancing at him again.

His hands moved with expert precision, veins on his forearms prominent as he worked the controller effortlessly. His fingers; a little shorter but beautiful, dexterous- flicked over the buttons with ease, thumb pressing down hard on the joystick as he maneuvered his kart. You swallowed, watching how they twitched with each slight movement, how fast they were-

You nearly missed the start. Your character jerked forward awkwardly while everyone else sped ahead.

"Yahh," Jisung laughed, bumping his shoulder into yours. "You know you have to move, right?"

"I- I was," you said quickly, adjusting your grip. "Just had a bad start."

Felix, still focused on the game, didn’t look at you. But he smirked. He fucking smirked.

Your stomach clenched.

You tried to focus, tried to shake it off, but then his tongue darted out, wetting his lips before catching the bottom one between his teeth. And god, it was such a casual thing, something so innocent, but why did it make your breath hitch? Why was your brain suddenly short-circuiting over something so simple?

You had barely recovered from that when Seungmin’s kart sent Felix spinning off-course, and he let out a low groan, deep and annoyed, his jaw clenching as his tongue pressed into his cheek.

Oh.

Oh, that was so fucking hot, and unfair.

Heat rushed through you, making your grip on the controller falter. Your entire body felt tight, restless. The way he shifted slightly, adjusting his position with that focused expression, the way his sleeves bunched at his elbows, exposing more of his forearms-

You missed a turn entirely.

Your kart slammed straight into a wall.

"Wow," Changbin snorted. "Did being sick mess up your eyesight?"

You cleared your throat, trying to recover. "No! no, I'm just- just warming up."

"Sure you are," Jisung teased.

Felix still didn’t say anything, but you swore you saw his fingers tighten on his controller for a fraction of a second.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus, tried to play like you normally would, but it was impossible.

Every time Felix reacted- whether it was a sharp inhale when someone overtook him or the way his knee bounced impatiently when he was trailing behind- it got to you.

By the time the race ended, you blinked at the results in horror.

Dead last.

Even the bots had beaten you.

There was a beat of silence before a chorus of laughter erupted around you.

"Wait, what?" Jisung wheezed. "How does that happen?"

"That’s never happened before," Hyunjin added, frowning at you. "Aren’t you usually, like… stupidly good at this game?"

Felix finally turned his head to look at you.

And the moment his gaze met yours, it was over.

His eyes held something unreadable, something amused yet dark, something that made your stomach do a full flip. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

He didn’t have to.

Because the way he looked at you, the way his gaze flickered just slightly down before returning to yours, the way his fingers twitched against the controller, said everything.

He knew.

You felt heat flood your face, your entire body suddenly feeling too warm.

You ripped your gaze away. "I- I wasn’t focusing."

"Yeah, no shit," Jisung laughed.

"Rematch," you blurted out, gripping your controller so hard your knuckles ached. "We’re doing a rematch."

Felix finally smirked. Not the small, teasing kind he had given before.

No, this one was deeper. Slower.

Like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

"Whatever you say," he murmured, voice just low enough for only you to hear.

And fuck.

You were in so much trouble.

You clenched your thighs together, your entire body coiled so tightly you felt like you might explode at any moment. You needed a distraction. Actually- nevermind, you could use less distractions.

The rematch started, and this time, you were determined to win.

Felix had gotten under your skin, but two could play at this game. If he wanted to tease you, if he wanted to smirk at you like that, look at you like that, then fine. You’d give him something to react to, too.

As soon as the race began, you leaned forward slightly, getting into it, letting your knee press against his. It was subtle, barely there, but you knew he felt it.

His fingers twitched.

You pushed forward, knocking him slightly off-course, earning a sharp inhale from him as his kart swerved.

"Playing dirty?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen.

You tilted your head innocently. "What, me?"

He huffed out something close to a laugh, shaking his head.

The game quickly turned into a war between just the two of you. The others were playing, sure, but it didn’t matter. It was you versus him. Every drift, every shortcut, every item thrown, it was all just to one-up each other.

When he overtook you, you let out a quiet, breathy whine of frustration, just loud enough for only him to hear.

His fingers twitched again.

You smirked.

"Oh my god, what's gotten into you?" Jisung commented, watching the way you two were completely locked in, ignoring everything else.

Felix’s knee bumped yours this time, just slightly, just enough to throw you off for a split second, and suddenly, he was in first.

You bit your lip, gripping your controller tighter.

He hummed, low and knowing, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

The final lap was chaos. Items flying, turns taken too sharply, both of you trying to psych each other out. But then-

Felix suddenly reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it to wipe at his face, revealing the sharp cut of his stomach, the defined lines leading down beneath the waistband of his sweats.

And your brain broke.

Your fingers fumbled. Your character swerved.

His smirk was immediate.

"You’re kidding me," you hissed, barely managing to get back on track.

"Something wrong?" he asked, voice too smooth, too smug.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to focus. But it was too late.

Felix crossed the finish line first.

You, just barely, came in second.

A chorus of reactions erupted around you, but you weren’t even listening.

Felix turned his head toward you, slow and deliberate, eyes still dark with amusement.

You could not do this right now.

"I need water," you blurted out, practically throwing your controller onto the couch as you stood.

Felix didn’t stop you. He didn’t have to.

Because you felt his eyes on you the entire way to the kitchen.

You sucked in a deep, steadying breath, filling up a glass of water with tap water to give yourself something to do. The cool liquid soothed the burning ache in your throat, the tight knot in your stomach finally unclenching slightly.

But you didn't miss it. The way he followed you, making his way casually toward you, leaning against the kitchen counter.

He was too close. Too close, too fucking hot, his sleeves still pushed up his forearms, the muscles tense and prominent under the smooth tan skin.

The way he was looking at you, fuck.

"Mm-" you cleared your throat, willing your voice to stay steady. "That was a close game." You said, deciding to not mention the amount of tension that was just previously between you two.

"It was." His voice was so smooth, so steady, so goddamn collected when all you felt was falling apart.

He shifted his stance, and fuck, his shirt shifted a bit with him. Just enough to reveal a hint of the v-line of his lower abdomen. You forced your gaze back to the glass of water. "Are we uh… playing Uno next?"

His gaze raked over you slowly, like he was savoring you, taking in every detail, every movement. "Are you still trying to avoid me?"

You almost choked, snapping your gaze to his. He didn't look angry or hurt. No. There was something else in his eyes. A sort of playfulness, something that made you swallow hard. "N- no, of course not."

Felix took a step closer.

Heat flashed through your body, a million responses flickering through your mind. A part of you wanted to back down. To apologize for making him feel uncomfortable, for crossing the line. Another part of you wanted to grab him, to shove him up against the nearest surface and kiss him until his lips were swollen again, to not even care who heard, to show him how much you wanted him-

"Uno it is, then."

-

The night stretched on, the group dwindling as exhaustion set in. It was past 2 AM now, and the whining had reached its peak.

"Okay, I'm tapping out," Hyunjin groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch before peeling himself up again. "I’m going to bed before I actually pass out here."

"You guys are weak," Jisung muttered, but even he sounded drowsy, rubbing at his eyes.

One by one, everyone started disappearing to their rooms, the energy in the room shifting from chaotic to something quieter, heavier.

And then, Felix caught your gaze.

It was quick, barely a flicker of a look, but you felt it everywhere. The way his lips barely curved at the corners, the way his head tilted ever so slightly toward the hallway.

Your stomach clenched.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

As the last of them retreated, the house fell silent. The kind of silence that made everything feel weightier, like the air itself had thickened.

You hesitated in your room for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

With shaky fingers, you pushed open your door and stepped out, padding quietly down the hall in your pajamas.

When you reached his door, you hesitated, nerves tightening in your stomach. The hallway felt too quiet, the weight of your own anticipation pressing down on your chest. Your fingers hovered over the doorknob, your mind racing. Why did he call me here? What does he want?

But more than that, why did you want to find out so badly?

Taking a steadying breath, you gathered your courage and pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Felix was there, exactly where you'd imagined him, leaning back against his headboard, his legs stretched out comfortably, one hand resting lazily over his stomach while the other held his phone.

The second he saw you, he dropped it without a second thought, the soft thud against his blankets barely registering over the way his entire face shifted.

Slow. Almost shy. A smile spread across his lips, lighting up his features.

And goddamn it.

He looked so good. So effortlessly, unfairly good. His hair was slightly tousled, like he had been running his fingers through it absentmindedly. His hoodie was loose over his frame, draping in a way that made him look entirely too comfortable, like he belonged exactly here, like he had been waiting for you.

And then there was the way his fingers splayed across his stomach, his sweatshirt riding up just slightly, revealing a sliver of smooth skin.

You felt like melting straight into the floor.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a step closer before perching on the very edge of his bed, hands fisting into the hem of your pajama shirt to keep yourself from fidgeting.

"Why did you- why did you call me here?" Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you hated the way it betrayed you, revealing too much.

Felix exhaled a soft chuckle, shifting his weight as he turned more toward you. And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, he reached out, the warmth of his palm pressing against your thigh.

Your heart stuttered.

A hot and unrelenting feeling sat inside of you, spreading from the point of contact and curling into your stomach.

"I just thought," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your pajama pants, "since you... took care of me this morning, maybe I should repay you."

Something in your chest twisted.

The words themselves weren’t inherently bad. They weren’t cold. But the way he said them, too smooth, too casual, made something inside you crack.

Like this was nothing more than an obligation. Like the way you had touched him this morning, the way he had melted under your hands, had just been another favor to return.

Not because he wanted to.

Not because it meant anything to him.

You froze, the warmth in your stomach flipping into something heavier, something uncomfortable.

Felix must have sensed the shift immediately because his grip on your thigh loosened, the easy confidence on his face faltering as he tilted his head, brows pinching slightly in concern.

"Wait- hey, what’s wrong?" His voice softened, suddenly cautious.

You shook your head quickly, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. You hated how fast the emotions swelled inside you, how stupid you felt for thinking, for hoping, that maybe he wanted you.

That maybe he liked you.

"Felix," you exhaled, your voice barely holding steady. "You don’t have to do things like that just to pay me back."

His entire expression crumbled, guilt flashing across his features. "I didn’t mean-"

"You don’t owe me anything," you said, voice cracking as you suddenly pushed yourself to stand. "This was a mistake."

"Wait-"

Your breath hitched as his fingers curled gently around your wrist, not tight enough to trap you, just enough to make you stop. Enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin, the unspoken plea in his touch.

"Wait," he said again, even softer this time, like he was afraid the word might break if he said it too loudly.

You stood frozen, staring at the door in front of you, at the blurred outlines of your own reflection in the dark window beyond it. You willed yourself to take another step, to keep moving, to leave.

"I really do... want this."

The words barely reached you, so quiet they almost melted into the stillness of the room. But you heard them. Felt them. And they shattered something inside you.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, your throat tightening painfully as you let out a sharp, humorless breath.

"Don’t," you whispered.

Felix didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his presence behind you, could hear his breath just as unsteady as yours.

"You really shouldn’t want this, Felix," you said, and this time, your voice broke. "Because this isn’t something best friends do."

Silence.

Then, before you could pull away, before you could do anything at all, his grip shifted, slow, careful, as he turned you just enough to slip his arms around you from behind.

Your entire body stiffened as the warmth of his chest pressed against your back, as his arms folded around you, holding you against him.

"I know," he murmured, voice thick with something you couldn’t name.

You should have pulled away.

Should have stepped out of his arms and walked out that door before this got even more tangled, even more painful.

But you didn’t.

Because even though you shouldn’t love the way he held you, shouldn’t love the way his warmth seeped into your skin, grounding you, calming you, you did.

Even though you shouldn’t love the way his breath tickled the back of your neck, the way he exhaled like he was relieved to be holding you, you did.

And suddenly, no matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you tried to blink them back, the tears fell.

Your shoulders shook, a quiet sob breaking past your lips, and Felix tensed, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

"Shh," he comforted you, letting his hand rub comforting circles on you. "I’m sorry."

His voice wavered, and god, it only made you cry harder.

"It feels so wrong," he whispered, his arms tightening around you like he could hold you together, like he could keep you from unraveling. "But it's all I can think about."

You tried to stop it, but a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob broke from your mouth, and Felix froze.

"You don't have to say things like that," you sniffled, bringing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment.

His grip shifted, just slightly, as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, where his breath was previously fanning against. It made your breath hitch, your entire body shuddering at the feeling of his lips on you.

"You think I don't want to kiss you?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "That I haven't imagined what it would be like to touch you in the ways you've touched me?" He leaned back just enough for his fingers to reach yours, lacing together with your hand as he guided your fingers to your cheek. He was holding you, kissing you, yet his hands were shaky against your own. "Do you feel this?"

"Felix." His name left your mouth on an exhale, half a warning, half a plea.

"Do you?" He insisted.

Your chest ached with the weight of his words, the sheer desperation laced in his voice breaking something inside you. And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself from turning into him, from slipping your fingers free of his and bringing both hands to his face, tilting his head just enough before you crashed your lips against his.

The second your mouths met, it was like everything inside you ignited at once. The tension, the longing, the days of unspoken desire roared to life, consuming you both. His grip tightened at your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against him. The heat of his body pressed into yours, and the sheer force of it sent you stumbling back onto the bed, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Felix followed without hesitation, his hands bracing on either side of you as he hovered over you, his body caging yours in the best way possible. His lips were urgent, hungry, moving against yours like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth, like he couldn’t get enough. You gasped as his tongue flicked out to taste you, the slow, teasing slide of it making you shudder beneath him.

A low, needy sound rumbled in his throat when you ran your hands up his clothed torso, your hands resting on his shoulders and pulling him even closer. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Your hands slipped beneath the thick material, palms skimming over the lean muscles of his back, feeling the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Felix groaned into your mouth, the kiss breaking as he shifted to straddle you. You watched him for a beat, eyes taking him in.

He looked good enough to eat. His hoodie had bunched around his hips, the fabric barely clinging to him, his lower half exposed. Your gaze flicked down to the v-line of his abdomen before dropping to the visible tent in his boxers.

When you looked back up at his face, you found him already watching you, his cheeks flushed as his fingers gripped at the hem of his sweatshirt.

He didn't pull it off yet, his expression hesitant. Like he was afraid he might ruin something, that you might break beneath his touch. It was a stupid, irrational fear. You were already ruined, already broken. And all you wanted was for him to break you a little bit more.

"Please," you whispered, the last shred of your resolve fading.

The sound of your voice seemed to hit a part of his brain. His grip tightened on the hem before he finally lifted the garment over his head, his hair mussing just slightly, and god. He was even hotter shirtless than you imagined. He was all smooth lines and tan skin, toned yet soft.

All smooth, skin stretched over lean muscle, toned yet soft in a way that made your mouth go dry. Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his torso, palms pressing into the warmth of his skin. He shivered under your touch, his stomach tensing as your fingers trailed along the ridges of his abdomen.

“You look so good,” you murmured, barely recognizing your own voice.

Felix exhaled a breathy laugh, but the sound was shaky, like he was nervous, like your words had done something to him. His hands found your wrists, guiding your palms higher, over his ribs, his chest, until your fingertips brushed over his collarbones. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your touch, quick and uneven, matching your own.

Your breath caught as Felix let your hands roam over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath your touch. But just as your fingers trailed back down, seeking the familiar heat of his stomach, tracing down his v-line, he suddenly caught your wrists, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Wait,” he whispered.

You blinked, your brows pulling together as you instinctively tried to tug your hands free. “Felix—”

His hold didn’t waver, but there was no force behind it, just hesitation. A soft flush crept up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, his lips parting like he was debating something, fighting with himself over whether or not to say it.

“I don’t… I don’t want to be the only one receiving anymore,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a breath. His fingers squeezed yours lightly, almost apologetic, almost embarrassed. “Not tonight.”

Something about the way he said it, so soft, so unguarded, made your heart stumble.

Your first instinct was to protest, because you loved watching him unravel under your touch, loved the way he shivered, the way his breath hitched, the way he melted when you traced your fingers over the sensitive planes of his body. You wanted more of it, you always did.

But before you could say anything, he glanced up at you through his lashes, his grip on your hands loosening, and whispered, “I want to touch you.”

Your stomach flipped.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He must have mistaken your silence for reluctance, because he ducked his head slightly, his thumb brushing idly over your palm as he continued, quieter this time.

“If that’s okay,” he murmured, voice so gentle, so sweet, something about the tone of his voice made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard, your skin burning at the weight of his words.

Then, before you could find your voice, Felix shifted, sliding down. Your breath stilled as he settled onto his knees on the floor, looking up at you with his eyes that held something shy, something uncertain, but also something unmistakably wanting.

His fingers found your thighs, barely touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your pajama pants as he tested the waters. His hands were warm, his touch hesitant but deliberate, and when you didn’t pull away, he let his grip tighten just slightly, just enough to make your breath shudder out of you.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled you closer to the edge, his fingers flexing against your skin.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, could hear the unsteady rise and fall of his breathing as he stared up at you, waiting.

“You always take care of me,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading, his fingers squeezing ever so slightly at your thighs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your whole body thrumming with anticipation, with the sheer weight of his words.

And when he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, just a soft, fleeting kiss, your resolve crumbled entirely.

You nodded, barely able to breathe, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

Felix hesitated for only a second, his fingers twitching slightly before they found your waist, warm and uncertain, like he was afraid to move too quickly. His touch was light, barely there, as his hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing your ribs in a way that made you shiver. The anticipation, the slow, almost teasing pace, sent a wave of heat down your spine.

Your thighs tensed involuntarily, but you couldn’t close them, not with him kneeling between them, his presence impossible to ignore. The thought of what he might do, what you wanted him to do, burned through you, your breath catching as his hands moved higher.

His fingers traced the curves of your body like he was mapping them, committing every dip and rise to memory. And when he hesitantly skimmed over the swell of your breast, a sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Felix’s head snapped up. His breath hitched audibly, his cheeks flushed a deep, beautiful red. His gaze flickered between your face and where his palm now fully cupped you, his grip instinctively tightening before he gave the slightest squeeze. The reaction it pulled from you; your soft inhale, the way your head tipped back, made something shift in his expression.

You didn’t miss the way he squirmed slightly, his thighs clenching as though your reactions affected him as much as his touch affected you. But then his fingers left you, his warmth vanishing too soon, leaving your skin aching in its absence.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, almost like he was speaking to himself, his voice laced with something raw. His hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. "So beautiful."

You wanted to argue, to hide, to cover yourself in embarrassment, but then his lips.

Soft. Gentle. Worshipping.

They pressed just below your navel, sending a tremor through you. His kisses were slow, unhurried, as though he wanted to savor every inch of you, his lips lingering, breathing you in. Every touch, every press of his mouth, was deliberate, and the way he moved, like he never wanted to stop, made your breath quicken, your fingers curling into the sheets.

Felix didn’t stop. He trailed lower, exhaling softly against your skin, his hands curling around your hips as he pressed his forehead there for just a second. As if grounding himself. As if overwhelmed by you.

Then his fingers dipped into the waistband of your pajama pants, testing. Seeking permission.

And when you gave him the smallest nod, he exhaled shakily, his grip tightening before he slowly, so torturously slowly, began to slide them down.

The seconds felt like hours. Like an eternity. You were exposed, vulnerable, and you could only watch as he pulled your pajama bottoms down your legs.

Then you were left in nothing but your underwear, and the reality of it all hit you at once.

Felix leaned back just slightly, his breath unsteady, his gaze trailing down your legs before lingering at the apex of your thighs. His eyes widened, his lips parting as if he’d forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly, the heat of his attention became too much.

You shifted instinctively, your thighs pressing together, a flush crawling up your skin. Embarrassment bloomed in your chest, the urge to cover yourself nearly overwhelming.

Felix must have sensed it because his gaze snapped up to yours, his expression softening. Without a word, he moved closer again, bracing one hand beside your hip as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, gentle, warm, like he was easing you into this, like he was reminding you that you were safe with him.

Your breath hitched, and his free hand found your thigh, fingertips barely skimming the surface as he traced slow, teasing patterns. His touch was featherlight, barely there, but the sensation sent a shiver through you, your muscles tensing beneath his hand.

"It's okay," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice making you tremble.

His touch shifted, his palm resting over your knee as he gently coaxed your legs open. Your heart thrummed at the feeling of your legs spreading for him, your mind going hazy with arousal.

"So good," he praised, and the words made you shudder, your head spinning.

Slowly, carefully, he guided your legs over his shoulders, letting them settle there as his hands slid along the outside of your thighs. His eyes locked on yours before he leaned in.

A soft gasp escaped you, your pulse quickening as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him most.

One of your hands found its way to his hair, feeling a little sensitive from his breath tickling your skin. Felix exhaled a shaky sound, his hips shifting slightly against the mattress as he let his mouth linger.

You swallowed hard, your stomach fluttering as he slowly trailed lower, his lips brushing dangerously close to the crease where your thigh met your hip. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling another muffled sound from him, something like a whimper.

It made your mind fog over with heat, your thighs clenching instinctively. But then his grip shifted, his hands sliding beneath your thighs, fingers curling around your legs as he pinned you open.

A shaky moan broke from your lips, your head falling back as your hand gripped at his hair even harder, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. He hadn't even touched you yet, and the feeling of being held open, of being almost completely exposed for him, was overwhelming.

"Felix," you breathed, your hips squirming under his grip.

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, but it was more of a low, needy sound than an actual response. Then he pressed another kiss to your thigh, just slightly higher this time, before he lightly bit down on the soft skin.

The unexpected pressure made you gasp, your fingers clenching in his hair. He let out a muffled sound, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he released the skin from between his teeth. Then he soothed the sting with another soft kiss, his lips lingering as his breath fanned over your skin.

Your hips shifted again, a whimper rising in your throat as he continued teasing you. He was so close, so painfully close, but not close enough.

"Please," you breathed, your voice shaky and unsteady. "I need-"

Your words cut off abruptly as Felix closed the distance. Your muscles tensed, a gasp escaping your lips as his tongue flicked out, tracing over the wet fabric of your underwear. The sensation was light, barely there, but it made you shudder, your body suddenly feeling too hot, too sensitive.

He exhaled a soft sigh against you, the sound sending a jolt of heat down your spine, and then he was pressing kisses, teasing you with his mouth, his tongue, making you tremble.

A soft, needy sound escaped you, the feeling of his lips on you making your mind go hazy with arousal. You shifted, instinctively trying to close your legs, but his hands were firm, holding you open for him.

"Fuck," you gasped, the word trailing off into a whimper as he nuzzled closer, breathing you in.

His tongue traced the outline of you, slow, teasing, before he mouthed at you, dragging the fabric over your clit. Your back arched slightly, a shaky moan breaking past your lips. He did it again, harder this time, his mouth hot even through the thin barrier.

Felix groaned into you, the vibration of his voice making your hips jerk against his grip. And then suddenly, his fingers slipped into the waistband of your underwear. He didn't stop kissing you, didn't stop touching you as he dragged the fabric down your thighs, leaving you bare.

And then he pulled away just enough for him to take in the view. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips wet with you. The sight of it made your breath hitch, your heart thrumming against your ribs.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, and god, his voice sounded so fucked out, so breathless. "So pretty."

A desperate sound rose in your throat, your hips shifting at his words. "Fuck, don't say things like that."

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, sitting back on his heels. But he didn't respond, instead, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the strands back. You watched, captivated, as he gathered his hair into a messy bun, securing it with a hair tie around his wrist. Then, slowly, deliberately, he trailed his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his gaze following the movement before his eyes met yours again.

Your pulse quickened, your skin tingling beneath his touch.

Then his thumb brushed over you, slow, experimental. The sudden pressure made your breath catch, your muscles tensing as you tried to suppress a shiver.

His gaze flicked up to yours, gauging your reaction as he repeated the movement. You whimpered, your grip tightening on the sheets as he repeated the action again, and again. The feeling of his thumb moving against you sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn't enough.

You gasped out, your hips rolling into his touch.

"I know, baby," he murmured affectionately, his voice barely above a whisper.

Baby. The word made your head spin. Hearing it fall from his lips caused you to clench around nothing, the emptiness almost painful.

His eyes widened slightly at your reaction, looking up at you through his lashes with something akin to amusement. Then his hand left you, leaving you cold, leaving you empty. You wanted to protest, wanted to beg him to touch you again, but before you could, he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, soft, tender.

You stilled, your breath hitching as he trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, making you more impatient.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he hesitated. You could feel his warm breath fanning over you, sending a wave of heat down your spine.

Then he leaned in, and you gasped.

A choked sound escaped your lips, your back arching as he pressed his tongue against you. You felt him smirk, just slightly, before he did it again, licking a slow, firm stripe up your slit.

The feeling of his mouth on you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, hot and wet and overwhelming. A shudder ran through you, your hips twitching against his grip as he repeated the action, his tongue tracing over your folds.

The sensation made your legs tremble, your head falling back as you moaned out, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your ears. Felix groaned in response, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulled you closer, burying his face between your legs.

Your skin was tingling, your body burning with arousal. But then he flicked his tongue over your clit, slow and teasing. It was so light, so gentle, yet it made you whimper, heat pooling in your lower stomach.

"F-Felix," you gasped out, your fingers curling into the sheets.

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, the sound vibrating against you. Then he did it again, firmer this time, his tongue circling your clit before he flicked it once more.

Your breath hitched, your thighs clenching around his head.

He seemed to notice your reaction because he repeated the motion, adding a little more pressure. Your hips twitched involuntarily, your voice breaking off into a moan.

"Shit," you breathed, barely able to string words together. "Feels so good."

The praise made him whimper, his grip tightening on your thighs as he continued licking at you. Your back arched slightly, the sensation making your muscles tense, your skin buzzing. He continued teasing your clit, each flick of his tongue sending sparks of pleasure through you.

But you needed more. You wanted more.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers sliding up your thigh, tentative. When his thumb brushed against you again, you moaned, your hips rolling against his touch.

"Yes," you gasped out, barely able to breathe. "Please."

Felix pulled away just enough for him to speak, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. "You want my fingers?"

You nodded frantically, unable to form words, unable to do anything but chase the feeling. He hummed softly, almost to himself, as though he were savoring your reactions.

Then his hand shifted, his thumb brushing against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your hips bucking forward, trying to get him inside. But he only pressed another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, murmuring low against your skin.

"Relax, baby," he murmured, the term of endearment sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

Then his index finger slowly eased inside, the sudden sensation making you gasp. His grip tightened on your thigh, his touch reassuring, grounding, as he added his middle finger, probing deeper.

Your legs trembled, your head falling back as a soft whimper broke past your lips.

His mouth was still on you, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, slow and torturous. The feeling of his mouth on you, his finger filling you, was overwhelming.

You were so wound up, so desperate, that the sudden rush of pleasure was nearly too much.

"Fuck, Felix," you moaned, your hands fisting into the sheets.

The sound of his name made him whimper against you, his tongue flicking out, teasing. He curled his fingers inside you, searching, seeking. Then he found what he was looking for, a spot that made your hips jerk against his touch, a broken moan rising from your throat.

He groaned into you, his tongue moving faster against your clit, his fingers hitting that same spot over and over again.

Heat coiled in your stomach, your muscles tensing as he kept up his pace. Your skin was tingling, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as he continued, his fingers pumping in and out.

You felt yourself getting closer, the sensation of his mouth and his fingers pushing you to the edge.

"Wait, I'm close," you breathed, your voice breaking off into a whimper. "Lixie, please-"

Your words trailed off into a moan as he sped up, curling his fingers with each thrust. The feeling of him touching you, fucking you, was overwhelming. Your vision blurred, your hips rolling against his touch as you chased the feeling.

A sharp cry escaped you, your back arching, your legs tensing around his head. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, waves of pleasure shooting through you as he kept moving his hand. You trembled, your body aching, your thighs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

When your breathing finally started to slow, he gently pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty, a whine building in your throat. But then he pressed one last kiss to your thigh, tender and sweet.

Felix let out a slow, steady breath, his hands still smoothing over your legs in absentminded strokes as he leaned back. His lips were swollen, his cheeks stained with warmth, and his hair, god, his hair; was a complete mess, strands of it falling into his eyes. He looked so pretty like this, so utterly wrecked and yet still so gentle, so sweet.

You wanted to tell him. Wanted to whisper how beautiful he was, how good he made you feel, how all of you felt like it belonged to him in this moment. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you reached forward, fingers slipping into his hair, pushing the stray strands back.

He closed his eyes at the touch, exhaling softly, and before you could stop yourself, you tugged him toward you. He let himself be pulled, crawling onto the bed, settling beside you as you wrapped yourself around him, pressing into his warmth.

There was a quiet hum of contentment as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his arms winding around your waist. He held you like he never wanted to let go, his fingertips tracing light patterns along your back.

And for a moment, you let yourself forget everything else. The worries, the overthinking, none of it mattered. Not right now.

All that mattered was this. The warmth of him. The way your body still trembled from what he’d done. The knowledge that he had wanted to. That he had chosen to.

But then, as your breathing steadied, your mind caught onto something else, something that made your stomach twist.

You could feel him.

Hard and aching against your thigh, his body trembling ever so slightly as he held you. He hadn’t asked for anything in return. Hadn’t even hinted at it. He had done this just for you, just because he wanted to.

But now, you wanted to do something for him too.

Your face burned at the thought, nerves creeping in as you swallowed hard.

You hesitated before whispering, “I can, um…” You swallowed again, heat spreading up your neck as you forced the words out. “I can help you too. With my mouth.”

Felix stiffened instantly. His arms tightened around you for a split second before he pulled back slightly, eyes wide, face already turning red.

“I-” He shook his head, his voice breathless, uneven. “No. I… I only wanted to take care of you.”

You frowned. “But-”

“I don’t think I can handle that right now,” he admitted, voice quieter, his fingers gripping onto you as if the thought alone had overwhelmed him.

You bit your lip, staring at him. He looked so nervous, so wrecked already, and you knew he meant it. But at the same time, you could feel him, could feel how much he needed something, anything.

So you thought for a moment. Then, hesitantly, you spoke again.

“What about…” You swallowed, your heart pounding in your ears. “What about my thighs?”

Felix nearly choked on his own breath. His eyes snapped to yours, his face going impossibly red, and he let out something between a cough and a gasp, his grip on you tightening as he tried to process your words.

And honestly? That reaction only made you want to do it more.

You shifted, laying back on your elbows and letting your legs fall open slightly. He exhaled shakily, watching the way you still dripped from earlier, and suddenly, he seemed to forget how to breathe.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your skin tingling under his gaze.

He didn't move, didn't speak, just stared. And fuck, he looked like he was in absolute awe of you, like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. "Lix?"

He blinked, his eyes refocusing. "Um, are you sure?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Please."

He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your ankles. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled them together, resting your calves on his shoulder as he leaned forward.

You watched as he hesitated before fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free. He was already dripping, flushed pink, hard and straining, and the sight of him like this, so needy, made your stomach flutter.

Felix's hands were shaking slightly as he reached out, gently guiding himself between your thighs. The sudden feeling of him against you made you gasp, the sound making him whimper, his cock twitching.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice unsteady.

His hands wrapped around your ankles once more, holding them in place as he rocked his hips forward experimentally. A shaky moan broke past his lips as he dragged his cock through your folds, smearing precum across your skin.

Your eyes widened when you realized how intimate this looked and felt, your mind going hazy with arousal. You were still sensitive from before, still aching from his mouth, and the feeling of him sliding through your thighs made your head spin.

He exhaled a shaky sigh, his grip tightening on your ankles as he continued rocking his hips. The friction was delicious, hot and wet and overwhelming. You couldn't help but whimper, your skin tingling, your stomach twisting with heat.

He leaned forward, his body hovering over yours as he pressed your ankles closer together, the pressure making you gasp.

You threw your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as he fucked into you, slow and steady. You could feel every inch of him sliding between your thighs, his cock hot and heavy against your skin.

The feeling of him surrounding you like this, your legs pressed together, your thighs slick with his precum and your own wetness, was too much. A soft whimper broke past your lips as you rolled your hips, desperate for some kind of friction.

But he suddenly paused when he felt your folds rub up against him, making a sound that was way too erotic for your own good. His head fell forward, his cock twitching against your thighs.

"Shit," he moaned, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do that."

You swallowed hard, your body tensing at the sound of his voice, so low and breathless. "Sorry," you mumbled, unable to form any other words.

Felix let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your ankles as he pushed them closer together, holding your legs in place as he tried to take a moment to compose himself. But then you shifted slightly beneath him, and a choked sound broke past his lips, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

"Fuck, baby," he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as his cock slid against your folds once more, making you whimper. "You're so wet."

The words sent a wave of heat through you, your skin tingling, your muscles clenching. He was right, you were dripping, your arousal mixing with his precum, slick and hot and wet.

And then, before you could respond, he started moving again, his thrusts faster, harder this time. Each stroke dragged along your folds, his cock pressing a delicious pressure against your clit. You couldn't help but gasp, your hips rolling into the feeling, trying to get closer.

"Lixie," you breathed, your voice shaking.

Your hands fisted in the sheets as he continued fucking into you, his grip tightening on your ankles as he held them in place. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust, your skin tingling, your muscles tensing as you chased the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he gasped out, his voice breaking off into a moan. "So good."

The praise made you shudder, and your hips rolled into him, your breath catching in your throat.

"Please," you whimpered, the word trailing off into a gasp as he pressed your ankles closer together, holding them tighter.

Your back arched off the mattress, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock drag against you, hard and hot and heavy. It was so good, too good. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All you could do was moan, your voice breaking off into a desperate sound as he kept thrusting between your thighs.

He groaned into you, his body trembling as he fucked you, his movements starting to grow erratic, sloppy. You could feel yourself getting closer, your skin buzzing, your muscles tensing as you tried to hold on.

"Come on, Y/N," he moaned, his voice breathless. "Give it to me."

The words made you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you felt yourself slipping over the edge. Your legs tensed around him, your toes curling as pleasure shot through you, making you shiver.

Felix whimpered at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he kept thrusting into you. Your eyes rolled back, your head falling to the side as you rode out your high.

He followed soon after, his fingers digging into your ankles as he came, hot and wet and sticky. You could feel him spilling all over the uncovered skin of your lower stomach as he let out a string of beautiful moans, his voice breaking off into a gasp.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his body trembling.

For a moment, you just laid there, unable to move, unable to speak, your chest heaving. And then slowly, deliberately, you reached up, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. He whimpered in response, his face still hidden in your neck, his arms winding around you, holding you close.

"Lix," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Are you okay?"

He exhaled a slow, steady breath before nodding, his grip on you tightening slightly. You smiled at the reaction, your fingers carding through his hair.

Then he mumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like thank you.

"You're welcome," you murmured, your voice soft. "Are you okay? Was that too much?"

He shook his head, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, hooded, his cheeks flushed.

"I'm fine," he breathed, his voice still slightly shaky. "That was... so much."

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze falling to your lap. "I know. Messy too. We should probably-"

Felix cut you off by pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, silencing you instantly. The gesture made your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you.

"Let me clean you," he mumbled, his voice quiet, almost shy.

You felt yourself blush at his words, your stomach twisting. But before you could respond, he stood up, disappearing into your bathroom.

You couldn't help but stare at his back, watching as his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin glowing in the moonlight. He was so pretty, so soft, so... everything.

The sight of him like this made your chest ache, your heart hammering against your ribs as you watched him walk away.

And then, as soon as he was out of sight, you remembered the situation. You remembered that you were almost completely naked, that your thighs and stomach were coated in his cum, that you were laying in his bed after he'd fucked you with his tongue.

Oh my god.

Your face burned at the thought, your pulse quickening. You'd never felt like this before, never experienced anything like it. I mean, yeah, you've had sex before, but not sex like this. Not sex that made your entire body tingle. Not sex that felt so intimate even when it wasn't supposed to be.

You swallowed hard as you heard him return, your gaze turning to the ceiling. He paused, his eyes scanning over your body, taking in the sight of you spread out across his bed. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, before he stepped closer, a wet cloth in his hand.

He reached out, his movements slow and gentle as he wiped you down. Your stomach twisted, your breath catching in your throat as he cleaned you up, careful not to leave anything behind.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't say anything in response, only nodded before returning to the bathroom. When he returned, he crawled back into the bed, pulling the covers over you both.

"Wait- you want me to sleep here?" You asked, surprise evident in your voice.

He hummed in agreement, reaching over to turn off the light. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice low. "We've slept together before, what's the problem?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. He should really watch his words, because now all you were thinking about the fact that you'd 100% let your best friend hit if he asked. But he was talking about how you both have slept together, as in, literally, sharing a bed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to calm down. "I don't know," you finally answered, your voice quiet. "I just... wasn't expecting this."

He shrugged. "I don't mind. It's easier than you going back to your room, isn't it?"

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself.

Felix smiled softly at the gesture, shifting closer to you, resting his head on your chest. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden contact, but then relaxed, letting your fingers slide into his hair, taking out the bun he had put in prior.

Felix’s breathing evened out against your chest, warm and steady, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on your waist. You could feel the weight of him, the way his body molded so easily against yours, like he belonged there. His hair was soft beneath your fingers as you ran them gently through the strands, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You exhaled softly, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. You would tell him tomorrow.

The thought settled into your bones, a mix of nerves and certainty twisting in your stomach. No more dancing around it, no more overthinking. You were going to tell Felix how you felt.

With that thought, your eyes grew heavier, and soon enough, sleep pulled you under.

-

The next morning, the soft glow of early sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting gentle rays across Felix’s face. You blinked blearily, still groggy with sleep, only to find him nestled against you, his lips slightly parted, his hair a tousled mess against the pillow.

He looked so soft like this. So precious.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to his temple. He stirred slightly, his fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt, but he didn’t wake.

A warm feeling bloomed in your chest, but then-

Your eyes caught the time on the clock.

Panic jolted through you.

You quickly and carefully slipped out of bed, pulling your pants back on as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Felix let out a soft, sleepy sigh behind you, but you forced yourself to ignore the urge to crawl back under the covers with him.

Instead, you quietly crept out of his room, shutting the door softly behind you.

As soon as you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Jeongin was standing right there, looking like he hadn’t slept a single minute. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under them so prominent that you wondered if he had even blinked since last night.

“…What the hell?” you muttered, still groggy.

Jeongin stared at you, dead serious.

“I swear to god, I heard a ghost last night.”

You blinked. “…What?”

He ran a hand down his face, shuddering. “I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed, trying, right? But then I heard this… this noise.” His eyes darkened as he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Like a ghost moaning in pain.”

Your stomach dropped.

Oh. My god.

You suddenly wished you had stayed in Felix’s room.

Jeongin continued, oblivious to the way your face was quickly heating up. “It was awful. Like, I don’t know how to describe it, but it was this long, drawn-out, breathy sound, and I swear it came from somewhere in the dorm. I kept thinking, ‘what if it’s a spirit trying to communicate?’”

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Aha. That’s, um. That’s wild.”

Jeongin groaned, rubbing his temples. “I had to turn the lights on, man. I couldn’t deal with the dark anymore.”

You swallowed hard, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that.”

Jeongin squinted at you, suspicion written all over his face. “Wait… where were you last night?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Nowhere!” you blurted, way too quickly. “I was just- um…”

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed further, his gaze dragging over your disheveled state, your rumpled clothes, your messy hair, the clear signs that you had definitely just rolled out of someone’s bed.

Before you could scramble for a better excuse, the door behind you creaked open.

Felix stumbled out, looking just as exhausted as Jeongin, his hair a fluffy, unkempt mess. His pajama shirt was slightly askew, his eyes puffy with sleep as he rubbed at them sluggishly. He barely registered the two of you before stopping dead in his tracks.

His gaze landed on you first, then darted to Jeongin, then back to you.

And then-

His entire face turned bright red.

Oh. Oh, he just realized what this looked like.

You, standing outside his room, fresh out of bed.

Him, still in pajamas, barely awake.

At eleven in the morning.

Jeongin sighed suddenly, covering his face with his hands.

“Thank god,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “You guys heard the ghost too.”

You nearly choked.

Felix’s wide eyes flickered to you in utter confusion. You could only stare back, mirroring the same 'what the hell is he talking about?' expression.

Jeongin peeked between his fingers. “Wasn’t it awful? Like, so awful you couldn’t sleep alone?”

Your soul left your body.

You cleared your throat, forcing a stiff nod. “Yeah. So awful.”

Felix nodded so fast you were afraid he might hurt himself. “Terrible,” he added weakly.

Jeongin let out a deep sigh of relief. “Finally, someone who understands.” He shook his head. “I told Channie-hyung, but he just laughed at me. Like, what kind of reaction is that?”

Felix swallowed hard, visibly trying to keep it together. “I- I’ll make breakfast,” he blurted out suddenly. “For everyone. Just… give me a minute.”

And then, before anyone could say another word, he spun on his heel and fled back into his room, shutting the door a little too quickly behind him.

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face, realizing that you were never going to be able to walk around your apartment in peace again.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

tags for beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @velvetmoonlght, @honeyybbuubblleess, @st4rv3lly

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[laikascomet]

LAIKA'S COMET IS NOW ON HIATUS!

i've been talking about hiatus for awhile now (since about halfway through chapter 2!) but its official - laika's comet is now on hiatus! this hiatus will be a bit longer than the last, but for good reason.

my intention is to keep working until i can rebuild a buffer of finished pages that is larger than the buffer i've been working with up until this point. a photoshop update corrupting multiple pagefiles, a few challenging pages and then getting the flu for two weeks meant my entire buffer was depleted within the span of two months.

thankfully - that's what a buffer is for! i was able to finish out the main climax of the chapter so there weren't any strange pauses in the story, or stopping during a cliffhanger. that said, realizing that only two life events outside of my control was enough to leave me with no buffer has made me realize i need to be working with more than i thought. so yeah, ill be gone for a bit... but when i come back, i hopefully won't have to take a pause like this one again for awhile.

in the meantime, ill be trying to answer some asks to this blog in the #letters tag like i have been (and moreso to keep the time in between less quiet) as well as uploading art i work on for stuff outside the comic. i hope that you wont be too sad or miss laika and co too much while we're gone... and thank you again for reading/giving my comic a chance! i want to continue making a story you can all enjoy and be proud of.

[jjenthusee]

Like The Sun

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: As your relationship deepens, you have to face some unsolved feelings. It can be frightening, but a little bit of honesty can take you far.

Tags: no y/n, slight miscommunication but nothing too painful (i hope), fluff, hurt/comfort, jason is learning to communicate, reader is also bad at communicating lol, trigger warning: grief

Word Count: 5.0k

Ten days.

Ten full days since you went completely silent on Jason. No contact, no phone calls, just a couple messages to make sure you were alive, but nothing more.

Ten full days and he hadn’t burst through the front door by tracking your phone and coming up with thirty-four complete ways you could possibly be tied limb-to-limb in an abandoned warehouse.

And it took one message. A single text to start the pitfall of a week.

You: Hey Jay, I’m gonna stay home tonight, just need the evening to myself.

Sending the message was difficult enough, but there was no use in pushing yourself outside your apartment door that day.

Everything felt off from the morning.

The way your water tasted, the breakfast you tried to stomach, the feel of your clothes on your skin.

It didn’t make it any better that your hair wasn’t styling right, your washer was acting up, and it was your last straw when you stained your kitchen counter.

But nothing made your heart drop like seeing Jason read your message. There was the same three dots reappearing and disappearing until it left the screen completely.

Jason was thinking most likely. Maybe analyzing how this possibly surfaced.

He was very keen on your behaviors, your mannerisms, and he knew the words you tended to use the most. He knew how you couldn’t remember specific words when you were excitedly telling him a story. He also knew you picked at your nails when you were deep in thought.

You knew he was analyzing.

And it was just your luck that he was a damn good detective.

You could picture the way his eyebrows would downcast far enough to shield over his eyelids as he looked over his phone. It was likely he would be radiating, building an intensity around him as he focused to understand what was happening.

It was a new habit he was picking up the longer he knew you. A habit developed from his effort to not jump from one extreme to another. He started to deeply consider his next moves, what words wouldn’t give off the wrong impression, and how to get even a thread closer to knowing what you needed.

It was the most thought he had given to his personal relationships in a long time.

Then one thumbs up emoji later, you felt a weird sense of relief and guilt for the alone time you asked for because you knew better than to go completely silent.

But you were even more surprised that he was allowing you to be this silent. It was almost funny that he had reasoned with himself to send a single emoji after all that build up.

Last year, one dead phone and multiple missed calls had him ready to tear down Gotham City for an entire evening. You thought he wouldn’t do such a thing, but he had done it before, so—just maybe, a second time wasn’t impossible.

But this behavior was new. For him and for you.

But it also was a time of change in your relationship. A major shift from just platonic to understanding where romance was going to take the two of you.

He must’ve been holding back because you asked him directly for it. He was complying and only tried to contact you back with only a single phone call you didn’t answer and a couple messages that you managed to respond, ironically, with a thumbs up.

This would hurt Jason and you knew for sure it was hurting you.

But words are easier to sugarcoat and your actions were too honest, too raw to cover up with excuses.

Now, ten long days later, you had sent no new messages to him in two days because there was just a lot of time where you let your mind blankly go through the week.

You hoped this would end soon, but you needed some time to sit in your apartment with no rush to think about anything else.

And sometimes that started with boiling some water for a quick meal of some decently made pasta.

You watched as the water start to slowly boil with the steam radiating off the top of the pot. You stood from the side of the kitchen counter, pausing from chopping some veggies for the sauce.

Everything felt so eerily quiet. The usual busy street outside the window felt weirdly muted. It was late, but even this much silence for Gotham felt unusual in an unsettling way.

Less cars were honking and the city lights protruded the thin curtains over your windows. The warmest light that was let in was from the lamp near your couch and the overhead stove light.

Your blank mind kept coming in waves. But you started to realize that grief was like that. It was hard on your mind and body despite having a good day because something always reminds you—it makes you remember the deep, ingrained loss.

If the torture of grief was already hard enough for losing one person, it wasn’t easy that it brought you back to the heart-wrenching night of also losing Jason.

It was a twisted game that life repeatedly stabbed you with and you were the player they decided to pick on.

Since Jason came back to life, to Gotham, and to you, you never knew what to do with the unresolved mixed emotions. There wasn’t many people to ask for advice on how to deal with this healthily. You already felt crazy enough trying to google it.

Fsshhh.

The water you were supposed to be watching was boiling over quickly and broke you out of your depressing thoughts. You had to lean over just enough to not burn your skin from the sloshing water while adjusting the switch on the stove to turn off the burner as the water simmered down.

“Crap.” You turned to try to grab the kitchen towel but realized you had thrown it near the cutting board you were using.

With one swoop of the fabric, you hadn’t realized the rag was inched enough below the handle of the knife that it flung the entire blade to the floor, nearly missing cutting your foot.

You gasped a moment too late as you witnessed too many bad things happening one after another.

Everything felt even worse once you remembered it was your only clean knife. You hadn’t bothered washing any of the dirty dishes from the past week of staying home from work.

Not a breath later, you startled at your phone buzzing on the counter and a light knock echoing from your window.

——

Silence.

It scared the hell out of Jason.

It reminded him of how alone he felt and was.

It left too much room to think and to get one step closer to spiraling.

That’s why Gotham, as shit as it was some days, had him glad for how busy the place was. He could hide in its chaos that never wavered even for all the masked vigilantes of the night.

It wasn’t in his interest to follow the caped family and he easily fixed the bothersome brothers with a good block on his phone and wiping his existence as much as he could. It also didn’t hurt to make a deal with the Oracle, so it left one less person capable of helping the others find him.

Sometimes it was easier when they gave up on some days. Like how they were busy with their own lives to try to meddle in his for a couple hours.

Luckily, this was just another night of opportunity to get his business done without domino masks blocking his way. Then he would grapple back to your familiar path to see if you were up for an early walk up the emergency stairs to your apartment rooftop.

He always looked forward to watching the way the sun reflected in your eyes and that intense feeling in his chest had Jason wanting to drag you out every morning if he could.

As much as Jason wanted to zero in on his daydreams of sunrises and the chaos of letting Gotham seep back into his skin, he was looking at his locked phone screen on the top of a run-down movie theater he was patrolling on. He was trying to investigate a drug drop to see who he was going to put a couple holes in for the evening, but the wind that invaded his leather jacket felt chilling and the vibration from his pocket had him wondering.

Suddenly the chill in his bones was blurring the message you sent and struck his nerves almost as badly as the nights he spent locked and surrounded by screeching metal, but he smacked his helmet with the back of his pistol before he could start a painful hallucination back to those times.

Pain rung in his wrist, but that wouldn’t get in his way of clearing up the punching bags walking below his feet, unaware of what was in store for them.

But the most surprising thing he’d seen that night was from the tiny screen illuminating the dark alley he stood in as the knocked-out bodies of the men he was tailing laid around his feet.

It was confusing.

Jason had thought there was progress in whatever relationship he was developing with you, but like an axe had been taken to his heart, reality hit him that maybe that was too good to be true.

The sensation of his buzzing helmet that knocked him from bad memories to reality was starting to strain his neck.

But he wouldn’t be able to solve the problem in his hand with another swing of his pistol.

Jason was trying not to sway, to not let the words spin and double from the phone.

“An evening…to myself.” Jason mumbled as he read the end of the message out loud.

What the hell could he say to this?

His eyebrows lowered the more he tried to think, but his overthinking tendencies were besting him.

It was out of the question that he was going to tell you ‘no.’ How could he refuse you some alone time?

He’d done enough of bailing on you over the last couple months when he felt overwhelmed, so Jason felt in no position to stop you from this.

He had improved that horrible behavior from the moment your affection was becoming more bolder, but he didn’t think it was worthy enough of a change to prevent something you wanted.

He had gotten a stern lecture from you the last time he raided the entire underground criminal ring to see if someone had taken you.

Once he realized an uncharged phone almost had him eliminating the entire criminal population of Gotham City, he realized he didn’t understand the extent of his feelings.

Jason was letting himself get deeper into the relationship you allowed him to build with you and now it scared the hell out of him that you were gone before he could tell you about any of it.

And like the continuing coward he knew he was, you still didn’t know about it.

Jason dragged a glove down his face, but hit the metal of his helmet and it smoothly glided down before he could not let himself think about this anymore.

It would have gone smoothly if Jason had the emotional intelligence skills to handle this, but not only did he realize he was a coward, he was also just stupid.

“A thumbs-up?”

The sudden voice coming from Jason’s helmet had him jumping out of his skin. On instinct, he readily held his pistol with his finger ready on the trigger.

His hands were faster than his mind because he realized that annoying voice was from Oracle herself.

“I have to reprogram this damn helmet again.” Jason groaned, putting his weapon back into his holster and putting his phone away fully from the prying eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re fine, Ja—“

“Red. Hood. We’ve been over this. It’s Red Hood.”

The silence from his helmet had Jason feeling somewhat guilty for the attitude he was giving the one person who tried to have patience with him, but she always struck a nerve of boundaries with him.

“Why are you tracking me and seeing my camera feed? This was off limits according to our deal.” Jason picked up the bodies of the men he knocked out and dragged them against the nearest dirtied brick wall.

“We also agreed on no casualties.” Babs argued back.

“Relax, you hacker. They’re still alive…for the night.” Jason lowered his voice when it reached the truth.

“Ja—Red Hood, this isn’t in the deal either.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll give ‘em something to survive into tomorrow. Now stop snooping.” Jason grabbed some medical supplies from his utility belt.

“I didn’t mean to read your messages, I just noticed the lack of movement from you for the night. I wanted to check in.”

“From my helmet feed?”

“Okay, it was going to be a quick look because I know how much you avoid these chats.” Babs sighed, rubbing her temple above her headset. “And I must say, a thumbs up wasn’t a better idea than what I did.”

“That’s enough.” Jason felt a headache forming.

“Wait—“

The call was over as Jason powered off his helmet’s extensive features and opted for no settings, but a plain red helmet.

“I don’t have time for this.” He mumbled, fighting the itch to just run back to your place, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

As he stood from the dark alley, Jason couldn’t hear anything, but an eery quiet.

He knew it was going to be a long night, but he didn’t realize it would be much longer than that.

A long silence.

God, Jason hated it, but your silence was all he wanted right now, he needed it.

——

You reached for the bright screen illuminating the muted kitchen and read the familiar name you had been avoiding.

Jay: brought some food Alfred dropped by for me earlier, thought you would want a piece since it’s your favorite.

Jay: left it outside the window, leaving now

You hopped over the knife still on the floor, running toward the closed window. In one motion, you were throwing aside the blinds, holding on to your phone, and prying open the curtains while trying to open the window.

You had tangled up the blinds, but you didn’t care in your rush to see a glimpse of the vigilante possibly still outside on the emergency exit ledge.

When you managed to peek out to feel the cold evening air, your eyes searched for the red helmet. For any sort of glint of light that bounced off his patrol gear, but nothing caught your eye.

It was like searching for a shadow in the dark, but like hell did you give everything in you to try to search for him.

When you gave up, your eyebrows crinkled in disappointment as your breaths caught in warm puffs from the rapid exhales. Then as you looked down to calm yourself, you saw the familiar lunch bag that Alfred used for deliveries. It struck something deep in your chest.

All this avoiding was hurting you.

You wanted Jason.

You needed him right now.

It was so simple, but you didn’t realize it until you saw the warm meal, the clumsy but patient silence from Jason to respect your space, and how completely exhausted you were of being alone in such a painful time.

You wanted the one man that you knew would lay with you through the hell of your mind.

You: how long until patrol is over?

You: i’ll wait for you

Within seconds, a response popped up.

Jay: On my way

With half your body still outside your window, you felt your arms shiver and your skin prick, but you lightly smiled into the brightness of your phone. A dry laugh almost came out at the relief that he was coming back.

In one soft leap and the release of a grapple wire, you finally saw the red helmet meet your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did someone break in? Did I say something wrong?” Jason’s voice broke out of the modulated voice, morphing into his usual raspy one as he pulled off the helmet. His domino mask stuck to his face still blocking his eyes from you, but you perfectly watched how his eyes moved to the phone in your hand down to the untouched lunch bag. “Oh no, did I accidentally smush the food? Maybe I swung it too hard on my way here—“

You reached forward, your stomach digging into the window stool, but you didn’t care as you gripped the collar of his leather jacket. Pulling him toward you as he let you maneuver his body into your arms.

You squeezed him, pushing your face into the crevice of his neck and feeling his soft touch of his skin against yours, the slight smell of his sweat from the exertion he puts his body through every night on patrol, and the shared shampoo you bought together.

It just felt right.

A cloudy night sky, the moon barely peaking out to brighten the late night, all to grace the outline of the man held tightly in your arms.

“I missed you.” You whispered, as lightly as possible, so just you and the moon would hear what you said, but Jason rested his hands on your back and squeezed, crinkling your shirt in between his fingers.

“I’m right here.”

After a couple moments of breathing in his scent, Jason gently pulled you out of the safety of his neck and looked at you. You traced his arms and shoulders, to trail his neck with your fingers. Lightly sending shivers up his skin as you reached his stubble on his jaw.

The prick on your skin felt too good as you kept moving your hands to the edges of the mask.

You felt the smooth edge, ready to press your fingers to remove it to see Jason’s clear eyes. Before you could begin to peel it off, Jason held your wrists, halting them from doing anything more than what you planned.

“Please. Please, not out here.” He pleaded, heavily breathing into the minimal space between your faces.

You nodded in response, your throat too closed up in emotions to say anything.

You moved your body from the window and Jason moved one foot inside, taking the lunch bag and his helmet with him.

You stood closely to him, not giving him enough space to freely pull himself comfortably inside, but you wanted to try to push your luck tonight in being as physically close as you could without making him feel uncomfortable.

Once Jason closed the window and attempted to straighten the tangled blinds, he noted the clear mess you left in a hurry.

Before he could comment on it, you stepped toward him. Resting your forehead onto his chest plate.

It was so cold, but it also brought relief to how heated your face was getting in your unusual clingy behavior.

But this was Jason. Your Jay.

You looked up. Looking into the white eyes of the mask irritated you. You regained your motivation to remove it, he wouldn’t stop you now that you were inside the apartment.

With dim lights and a warm glow on one side of his face, you retraced your steps, feeling his chest rise under your palms.

It felt magnificent to watch the way your touch and gaze made him react. It touched you how willing and clumsily he tried to hide these unconscious responses.

You felt the edge of the domino mask again, feeling your finger try to part the specially made material from his skin. Once you got a good grip, you took it off his face, watching his eyes open to see you.

It was breathtaking how much you missed his presence despite you wanting to be away from it.

You used your thumbs to trace his eye bags. They looked much darker than the last time you saw them.

“You’re not mad?” Jason hesitantly asked, grabbing the loose fabric of your shirt again, smoothing out any wrinkles.

“I was never mad.” You let him continue to pick at your shirt.

“It's been ten days. I’ve been worried out of my mind trying to not barge in here.” Jason leaned into your hand still on his face. “But the last time I did that you were pissed.” He dryly chuckled, less amused, but sadly letting his voice out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain anything. It’s just another case of…grief.” You breathed out the confession. ��It’s not an excuse, but it hasn’t been easy on me right now.”

Jason silently grabbed your hand to kiss the inside of your palm, it made the pain of making him wait for you worse, but also eased your worries.

“I feel so pathetic telling you all of this.” You exhaustedly admitted to the man lovingly holding your hands over his face.

“No, no, please don’t say that, I would never want you to feel like that.” He worriedly looked down at you. Trying his best to read your thoughts through his eyes. “I only want to be right here, even if you feel at your lowest.”

As he continued to read you, he hesitated, trying to determine his next words.

“I admit that I asked Alfred to make his signature dish for you. I know how much you like it and it was the only way I could think to get close enough to your apartment without disturbing you.” His hair drooped with his words. It was almost comical how in tune his hair was with his frowning expression.

You smiled.

“Thank you for doing that. It actually helped me to realize how much I wanted you next to me, but I was too stubborn about it.” You pushed Jason’s droopy hair out of his eyes, watching the dark and white strands mix together. “You know me too well.”

“Don’t be too forgiving, I might have completely ruined your dinner.” Jason finally smiled.

God, you missed that look.

“You saved it actually, I made a complete mess before I got your message.”

“That explains the knife on the floor.” Jason locked onto the blade, not at all pleased at the danger it became.

“Nearly sliced my toe.”

“That’s actually really bad.”

“We can worry about that later, I want to eat the meal Alfred packed. Can you eat with me?” You asked, trying to get his attention back on you.

“Okay, let me take my gear off.”

Within moments you sat at your dining table when Jason reappeared in comfortable clothes. He had changed into a hoodie he left previously and some sweats.

You didn’t bother turning on more lights when Jason picked up the knife on your kitchen floor and lightly cleaned the counters before he felt content enough to sit next to you.

You didn’t say much during your meal. The light awkwardness was settling when you realized you never cleared up what was going on inside your mind and led to your disappearance.

He must have had questions. He was being very careful in approaching you today.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He said nonchalantly.

“What?”

“You don’t have to say anything. At least if you don’t feel like it today.” Jason picked at his food. Moving the pieces around rather than trying to pick up something. “I didn’t come here to ask you for anything. But…I won’t go anywhere.”

You stared at him, watching his side profile relieve the doubt in your mind.

“When I turned around…she wasn’t there.” You spoke. Finally letting the truth out as Jason perked his head to you. “I always turned around before I left, so when I turned around this time to see her, I wasn’t prepared to not meet her eyes. When she wasn’t right there, it was just…so painful.”

Jason put down his eating utensil, listening and watching you do the opposite and focus in on the metal in your hands.

“It was so random. I was at the grocery store when I was buying ingredients for dinner and unconsciously, I started buying stuff she liked. Y’know, I barely cried through the funeral service, but I saw everything in her. I remembered sharing meals with her and when I realized I had everything she enjoyed in my basket, I left before I could cry in the aisles.”

Jason grabbed your hand, squeezing every time you tried to blink back tears, but the burn in your eyes wouldn’t go away.

“I can’t have meals with her anymore.” You shakily said out loud like the still waves of grief were finally crashing down onto you as you spoke into existence what you ran from.

“But, despite all the pain I was feeling, I also thought of you, Jay. It was so hard to grasp my love for you after you left me when we were kids. You lived with so much love and I’m glad you shared that with me—“

“No, I didn’t live anything like that—“ Jason refused your words, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“But, you did. I felt it and many other people did. I realized I never properly mourned you that day and I just pushed it down until the two of us were in a dark alley entangled back into each other’s lives.”

Jason couldn’t think of anything to say, so he let you continue to speak.

“We handled too much as kids and I can’t imagine the pressures that you had to go through. Bruce, Robin, the trauma. I know you try not to think much about the past, but you deserve to grieve who you were and the kid you could’ve been.”

You finally looked up, feeling worked up enough to fully face Jason. You saw his wide eyes as he couldn’t say anything despite his mouth trying to move. To voice something to you.

Then his eyes calmed as he started to organize his thoughts, taking in the vulnerability you so willingly placed in front of him.

Fighting the bile and tears he was trying to fiercely push down, he could only handle so much at a time.

Maybe you were right.

Maybe he could grieve, but he didn’t know how yet.

So, he would focus on the first thing he decided to do. It was to speak the truth.

“But…I wouldn’t take back that first life I had. I met you, we faced some horrible people because of Robin, but the fact is…that I spent my first life loving you. Sometimes that thought is the only thing that can get me through those days—when time really feels like it’ll stop again. It scares the absolute shit outta me.”

“Jay…”

“Who would’ve thought that I lost all of that, but how did I still get lucky enough to get a second chance with you? I honestly can’t believe it some—most days.”

He wouldn’t look at you, the heavy air of vulnerability surrounding the space between you. A lovely grip that kept your eyes focused on the man next to you.

“I just…I debated whether we should even be in contact. But some part of me also wanted to take back this part of the old me. To let me have something. Even if that is just staying next to you. I think it’s why I freak out when I don’t hear from you.”

You got up to stand next to Jason’s chair. You reached out to test touching his shoulder, lightly threading your fingers over his hoodie. When he didn’t back away, you moved to hug him, to hold his head against your chest. As you laid your head on top of his, Jason moved into your warmth. Wrapping his arms around your waist.

It hurt to hear that Jason felt like nothing of who he was before his death, but you could see the ingrained part of him that never changed.

Sure, he was growing up and being influenced by not only Bruce anymore, but you were there to stay.

“I won’t leave you in the dark again, I learned that I can’t do this alone. I know we can’t change over night, but I want you to know that your presence right now is enough. You are enough, Jay.” You rubbed his head and back.

Jason felt his eyes sting, so he held you against him a little harder, squeezing you as desperately as he felt. Trying to cover his face and let himself sink into your body.

It was silent again.

But Jason didn’t hate it. At all.

——

“My eyes are so puffy. I can’t believe you dragged me up here. I haven’t gotten an ounce of sleep.” You complained as you trudge up the steps to the roof.

Jason followed right behind making sure to hold onto the railing and watching your every step. Then he started to rub your lower back to soothe your complaints.

He didn’t feel guilty about it any of it though.

“You’re carrying me down ‘cause I’m not making the same trip down.” You grumbled along to your steps.

“That’s not a good idea, I don’t want to risk it.” Jason easily paced next to you.

Vigilante stamina was something else.

“Says the guy who grapples everywhere. Why can’t we grapple down?”

“The sun’s almost out. We missed the chance.” Jason smiled as he helped gently push you up the final steps.

When you made it up the final climb, you felt the slight sweat prickle your skin and Jason’s lips touch your forehead.

Within seconds, you plopped onto the ledge, feeling Jason securely wrap himself around you and ready for any sort of emergency.

“You must really like sunrises.” You exhaled to catch your breath and leaned your head onto his shoulder, the muscle was perfect to put your weight on.

“Not really.” Jason intertwined your hand with his.

“I’m too tired to get mad at you. I’ll do it after we have a nap.” You sleepily yawned.

“Heh, alright.” Jason held you tight.

It was a quiet morning. The rare weather allowed a clear sky to watch the sky change colors and illuminate.

And Jason was focused on none of it.

——

A/N: wow! this was longer than i imagined it would be and i waited to have a little space for me to talk :) but im back after being silent for a while. it wasn’t planned and sadly before the year ended, i lost my grandma and it was a lot to deal with. grief is no joke on how it works, BUT i’ve set some time to really take a step back and focus on myself. i didn’t mean for this writing to go in that direction, but i tend to get inspiration from parts of my life to make the writing feel more genuine. This page has made me laugh, talk to amazing people, and share these writing when I thought they wouldn’t go anywhere but my phone. it’s such a comforting thought that some ppl look forward to seeing something new from jjenthusee! 🤍 ik the world isn’t the best right now, it’s hard to deal with, but please take care of yourselves and enjoy a little bit of jason for yours truly 😊 please leave positive comments, spam a like or two, and have some flowers 💐