#I’ll add more tags if I think of anymore

[ravenpoefan]

Got my art commission of my oc Altherius from my friend @borkdork :D I love the details of this piece. The flame being see through and its warm glow. The background and the way he sits I just AAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE IT SO MUCH

[sailorsoons]

Storm Breaker (l.jh)

Pairing: Jaeger Pilot!Lee Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot! f.reader  

Summary: It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise. 

Word Count: 23,373

Genre: Pacific Rim AU, Forced Proximity, Annoyed to Lovers

Type: Smut, Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Jihoon is a bit of an asshole, action/fighting scenes, brief descriptions of blood, mentions of offscreen deaths, brief mentions of sick parents, brief mention of having no family, sexual tension, explicit language, A Lot of Pacific Rim Techincal Terms But They’re Explained, terrible humor, a hint of angst, brief depictions of Jihoon being insecure about his childhood, sexually explicit content including nipple play, biting, a total of one (1) spank, oral (f. receiving), the slightest hint of voyeurism mentioned, unprotected sex (don’t do this), multiple orgasms, a lot of spit and cum, cum eating, vaginal fingering, a lot of biting, Jihoon is emotionally constipated and then lets it all out lmfaoooo

A/N: This is a re-upload from my old blog, since this was one of the stories that got blasted to the moon. Please enjoy PacRim Uji, who I love so dearly.

A/N 2: SPECIAL THANKS TO @daechwitatamic for not only collaborating with me on our little corner of the internet, but beta reading this giant piece and constantly motivating me while writing it. I could not be anywhere without you I love u 

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

Main Masterlist | Ask | Permanent Tag List | Read Next: Cherry Bomb

Jihoon doesn’t flinch when Xander throws his helmet against the wall. The crash is loud, but the reinforced material doesn’t crack under the force of the concrete. It clatters to the floor while Jihoon tucks his helmet under his right arm. Sweat drips down the side of his neck and down his back, but he can’t get to it while in his Drivesuit. 

Just add it to his list of inconveniences.  

Everyone in the room freezes as Xander storms toward the command center and right for the Marshall in charge, his steps thunderous against the metal floor. Instead of following him, Jihoon leans against the doorframe, watching the way his co-pilot rages, imagining steam coming out of his ears. 

“I can’t fucking pilot with him,” Xander screams, stabbing an accusatory finger in Jihoon’s direction. “I refuse to do it. Reassign me.” 

Eyes drift toward Jihoon. He ignores them, watching as Xander stops at the command post where both the Marshall and the LOCCENT Mission Controller who just walked them through their kaiju fight stand. Both of them stare at Xander, who is red in the face, chest heaving. 

It’s a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesn’t matter. Xander isn’t Jihoon’s first co-pilot and he won’t be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xander’s demands. 

“Ranger-” 

Xander cuts off the Marshall. Bold, if you ask Jihoon. “I’ll leave the fucking program if that’s what I have to do. I won’t pilot with him anymore, I don’t care that we can drift. He won’t trust me, he won’t give up the reins and he refuses to let me in. He’s arrogant and pig headed!”

“Pig headed,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “That’s new.” 

The Marshall sighs heavily, eyes drifting toward Jihoon, who is still leaning against the doorframe. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, unsure what the Marshall expected. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Marshall asks Xander to follow him, gesturing toward the door at the back of the command center that leads into offices. 

Silence blankets the room at their departure. At least, as silent as it can get in the jaeger hub. The beeping of machinery and radar is a constant sound under the hum of machinery and the awkward cough of one of the workers in the room. Jihoon raises his brows as if to ask someone to say something. No one does and he nods, dismissing himself. 

Laughter trails up the stairs followed by loud steps. He looks down to see Chan and Wylie coming up the stairwell, cheeks flushed and hairlines sweaty from their battle with Dreadfury only minutes earlier. Their team had the assist on the kill, and though they hadn’t landed the final blow, their constant offense had given Jihoon and his partner the time they needed to figure out how to move in. 

Chan sees Jihoon and raises a questioning brow, pausing in the stairs. “Lose your co-pilot?” he asks, looking Jihoon up and down. 

“How’d you guess?” 

“Standard,” Chan and Wylie say at the same time. 

They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that they’re two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like he’s talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. It’s not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilot’s. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well. 

“Think they’ll just finally get rid of you?”

“Nope.” 

“Standard,” they both say in unison again. It’s Chan who says, “Must be nice to get away with murder, Woozi.” He continues up the stairs, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder as he goes. Wylie trails behind him, shooting Jihoon a grin. “One day you’re gonna end up on your ass.” 

“That’s fine. You’ll both take me in, right?” 

Both of their voices meld as they howl in laughter, passing him and going into the command center, yelling “Nope!” 

Despite their teasing, Jihoon smiles. He’s known the pair for years and despite their ability to get under his skin, he’s fond of them. They’re good jaeger pilots, scrappy as they come and vicious in the field. Unlike Jihoon, they’ve piloted their jaeger together from the start, syncing like twin flames and sticking to one another. 

It helps that they grew up together, of course. And that they’re in a relationship, one heart, one soul. 

Sighing, Jihoon jogs down the rest of the stairs, tired and sore. He needs a shower, food and a fucking nap. He and Xander had been pulling extra shifts, the kaiju activity having increased with the bad weather. He suspects it was also in an attempt to get Jihoon to bond with Xander more and get him to open up, but that hadn’t happened.

That’s the problem with piloting with Jihoon. The more time people spend with him, the less they can stomach the way he resists them in the mental bridge that connects co-pilots. It isn’t that he’s afraid for them to see what’s in his head - they haven’t earned a right to his privacy.

Privacy is important to him. 

Murmurs ripple through the cafeteria as he enters, rolling his head to the side to try and workout the kink that is formed there. He glances around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. Word spreads fast when you’re secluded in the Shatterdome with nothing but fucking ocean and giant monsters around you. 

As usual, he ignores the stares and whispering. He catches Soonyoung’s eye from afar and shrugs when his friend gives him a questioning glance, earning an eye roll. Not for the first time, Jihoon finds himself wondering why someone like Soonyoung or Wonwoo can’t be his partner. 

Drift compatibility. 

He knows that’s the answer, but he’ll never stop wishing that pairing jaeger pilots together was a little easier. So many factors go into making people drift compatible and yet he’s yet to find a partner he can tolerate - or tolerate him in return. If it were as easy as picking his friends, he’d have settled with someone long ago. 

Brushing away the thought, he heads to his room. It doesn’t matter what he wants. If wishes were horses, everyone would be a rider. He’s pretty sure that one of his former co-pilots had said that - in regard to Jihoon being impossible to work with, of course. 

The dark and quiet of his room brings the peace Jihoon craves. He feels the tension melt from his shoulders. He suddenly realizes how tired he is, feeling like parchment stretched too thin over a rough surface. He peels himself out of his clothes methodically, welcoming the chill of the room against his sweaty skin. 

He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so it’s only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day. 

Tomorrow, he’ll have a new partner. It’s a simple fact and a routine he is familiar with. That’s fine with him - they can keep assigning people to him until they find someone competent. Jihoon isn’t going anywhere. 

He has nowhere else to go anyway. 

-

“I need you to do me a favor,” Kira says before you can finish stepping out of the jaeger. The Marshall of the Sydney Shatterdome looks deadly serious. You scoff under the helmet, reaching up to unclasp it and shuck it off. Fresh air fills your lungs. It’s hot and tastes like metal in the jaeger bay, but it’s familiar. “And I need an answer quickly.”

“Ever heard of foreplay?” you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. “You really just dive in dry, huh?” 

“You know my cousin is a Marshall of a Shatterdome overseas?” 

You pause. “Yeah.” 

“They’re asking for a skilled pilot to pair with one of their Rangers. They sent over the drift profile and you’re the only pilot we have that’s a match.” You frown and she holds out a hand to stop your protest, a crease in her mouth. “Just look over the report and the profile I sent you, alright?” 

“I mean, my answer is no. I’m fine here.”

“You are. You’re one of our best teams,” Kira says earnestly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Maya. “But respectfully, your value is needed elsewhere. There isn’t enough activity here to keep a veteran of your status on shift, Blue.”

You feel a flicker of uncertainty. Rarely does Kira use your nickname. It’s too familiar for a military commander of her status, and though you’ve considered her a friend for years, she never uses your nickname on shift. Unless she really needs something from you.  

Licking your lips, you hesitate to answer. You don’t want to say she’s right about your skillset and risk insulting your coworkers and other pilots in the jaeger Program, but it’s an accurate statement. The Shatterdome you report to is old - one of the first built in the beginning. But kaiju activity is mostly unpredictable, shifting with the tides. You barely get them once a month anymore, and there are too many pilots who need the practice.

You don’t. 

You glance at Maya and she offers a soft smile. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be my co-pilot forever. Hoped, maybe. But I didn't expect it.”

“Oh come on, I’m with you for life, Maya.” 

“Romantic.” Maya’s gaze softens. “Marshall has a point, though. We’re a little… slow here.” 

It makes a pang go through your heart. Maya has been your co-pilot since your mother passed away, and though you didn’t go through the Ranger training program with her, she’s the perfect balance to you. You like having her around, and the thought of changing pilots just because someone wants your experience is… unideal. 

Sensing your unease, Maya reaches out and touches your forearm, squeezing over the metal of your Drivesuit. Her smile is soft. Knowing. Like she knew that being in the drift with you wasn’t forever, and she’s already saying bye. 

“Look,” Kira sighs, bringing your attention back to her. “My cousin really needs a skilled pilot and someone who is a leader and isn’t afraid of working with veteran pilots. They get more activity, and they need someone sharp. Skilled. Strong.” 

“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.” 

“Thank you.” She steps away. “I need to know by the end of the day, though.”

“Jesus Christ, Marshall. End of the day is in like two hours.”

Her smile is firm. “I know.” 

Waving her off, you leave your jaeger behind, Maya trailing after you. She peppers you with encouragement as you walk, steps heavy on the metal catwalk. You don’t respond right away, thoughts trying to catch up with being thrown an offer immediately after slamming a monster back into the depth of the ocean just minutes ago. 

You don’t have to ask why you. Drift compatibility alone is important enough to move jaeger pilots around the world from Shatterdome to Shatterdome in order to make the best pairs possible. There aren’t a ton of pilots - especially among the younger ones - at your base that are compatible with you.

Stubborn, Kira had always said. Finding an equally dominant co-pilot that meshes with you is difficult. You suspect that if you were not extremely talented at what you do and a veteran at your base, they might have moved you to an advisory position a long time ago.

Advising is not for you, though. The grind of metal and the heat of the fight is where you thrive, letting your mind go empty, entirely driven by instinct. Instinct was the reason you were so good at fighting kaiju. Your mom had always said you had the instinct of a warrior, and after putting down as many monsters to protect humanity’s coasts, you had to agree. 

Maya immediately goes to the shower once you reach your shared room. You dive onto the bottom bunk, snatching the tablet sitting on your night stand. Your eyes squint from the brightness, sensitive in the dim room. Clicking through your emails, you find the reporting and profile from Kira and open it, information unfurling before you. 

“Huh,” You muse, raising your brows as Lee Jihoon appears on your screen. “I know your name.” 

His profile is impeccable - and so is his skill. Chewing on your lip, you throw yourself onto your cot and flip through all of the materials provided on your potential co-pilot. Veteran Ranger. Highly skilled in combat. Top of his class in the academy. 

Clicking on the attachments, you watch the attached videos. There’s clips from his fights in and out of the suit. You find yourself hypnotized by his fighting style. There is a beauty to it, but it’s absolutely lethal. Efficient. There are no extra flourishes, no showmanship. Lee Jihoon fights to kill. 

“So why do you need me?” you mutter to yourself, pulling up his past partners. The list is extensive, stretching back to multiple co-pilots over weeks at a time. “Jesus christ. You do not play nice.”

He must not, at least. Half of the pilots assigned to him are only barely compatible. You know it takes more than just matching fight styles, but based on the history glowing at you from the screen, Jihoon’s Marshall was doing anything they could to keep him, even if it meant pairing him with someone who was scoring as low as 54% compatible. 

Pulling up your side-by-side analysis, you whistle. 98% was a good fucking number. You’d only ever had 90% with your mom, and she was genetically linked to you. Still, with as many partners as Jihoon has had in the past year alone, you don’t know that it’s worth it, even if his base has more kaiju activity and looks to be in need of veteran fighters.

Sighing, you close the tablet and throw it on the pillow. Resting your head against the metal wall, you close your eyes, thinking. You’re happy where you’re at. You’re a leader here, and you like Maya as your partner. She’s young and eager to learn - and you like your jaeger. Shadow Stalker is a good suit, though a little older. 

Biting your lip, you grab the tablet again, opening the jaeger details on Jihoon’s profile. Newer model. Built for endurance. Equipped with multiple blades, suited for pilots who prefer sword-style fighting. She’s painted gray-blue like the deepest part of a storm - blue like your mother’s first jaeger, which makes you grin. 

Storm Breaker. It’s a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. She’s built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot. 

Closing the tablet again, you stare into the distance, thinking. “What’s your deal, Lee Jihoon?” 

-

Jihoon hates sparring with Chan almost as much as he hates sparring with Wylie. Chan doesn’t scratch at Jihoon like a feral cat like Wylie might, but he does bite, which is exactly what he does when he can’t get out of Jihoon’s hold. 

“You fucker,” Jihoon hisses, letting him go. Chan slips out of Jihoon’s grasp and rolls to his feet a few feet away, crouched low and ready to go again. Despite years of being a jaeger pilot, Chan nor his co-pilot have fallen out of their scrapy upbringings, fighting like two street orphans. “What, are you going to bite a kaiju if you can?” 

“Of course not. I just don’t like losing to you.”

“Too bad.” Jihoon straightens and lifts his fists, planting his feet firmly. Sweat slicks the back of his neck, wispy pieces of hair escaping his hair tie and sticking to damp skin. “No more biting.” 

“No promises.” 

Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. “She bit me!”

Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite. 

Chan comes at Jihoon again. He’s a good fighter and he’s ruthless. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite things about him. But there’s always an opening, always a moment between fluid movements that reveals itself that Jihoon can take advantage of. 

He does exactly that, going on the defense, watching and waiting for the moment. When it reveals itself, Jihoon strikes lightning fast, catching Chan in the chest hard and taking him down to the ground. Jihoon feels the wind leave Chan’s lungs as he coughs hard, head smacking the mat. 

Behind them, Jihoon hears the collective wince. Chan is dazed for a second, groaning underneath Jihoon’s hand pressed to his chest. He can feel the hammering of Chan’s heart, a little faster than his own. When it’s clear Chan isn’t going to claw at him, Jihoon stands and offers him a hand.

With a heaving sigh, Chan takes it. Jihoon claps him on the back, grinning as Chan tries to catch his breath, rubbing the back of his head. “That hurt.”

“Oops.” Chan looks over Jihoon’s shoulder and grins, causing him to turn around and follow the younger’s gaze. Wylie sweeps her feet under Mingho’s, knocking him to the mat. She pounces like a creature from hell before he can react, pinning him down. “Well, at least one of us didn’t get our ass beat today.” 

“Stop biting, Dino,” Jihoon says as they trail off the mat, a warning. Chan has the decency to look chagrined, bowing slightly to his superior. Jihoon adores the kid, but he will not serve as a chew toy. 

Grabbing a water, Jihoon sits down on the floor with Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Seokmin as Junhui and Minghao trade places. Minghao is nursing a scratch on his neck from Wylie’s nails, muttering about her being a demon straight from hell as he sits. Wylie gives her new opponent a wicked grin, taking her place on the mat and beckoning Junhui toward her. Jihoon shakes his head, gulping down water and leaning back on his hands. 

“Fresh blood,” Soonyoung notes, gesturing toward the training room entrance as the Marshall leads a group of people in. “They’re holding trials for the two new mark fives tomorrow. Wanna go?” 

“No.” 

Soonyoung laughs. “Come on, they might be looking for another partner for you too.”

“Don’t care.” 

“You can’t keep going through partners, man.”

Jihoon doesn’t react, eyes scanning the group of cadets. They all look fresh-faced and in awe as they’re led around the mats, wide eyes glued to the sparring pilots as they go. His eyes settle on you, though, pausing. 

You don’t have the same awestruck wonder as the other cadets, trailing behind them as your eyes scan the structure, the fighters and the equipment around you. Calculating. Critical. You’re a little older than the other cadets too - not in looks but in aura, chin lifted, gaze sharp. Experienced. 

Soonyoung follows Jihoon’s line of sight and straightens. “Woah. Who is that?” 

“My new drift partner,” Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. They’re one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. “What? Look at her!” 

“You shouldn’t fuck your co-pilot,” Seungkwan mutters. “Look what happened to Seungcheol and Cherry. She’s still at that training facility in Alaska. Didn’t come back after their drift glitched.” 

A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherry’s absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little. 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung notes cryptically, eyeing Wylie. She’s managed to get Junhui off his feet, slamming him down with a rattle of mat and springs, pinning him with a savage growl. Wylie Coyote indeed, Jihoon thinks, smirking. “Seems to work for Wylie just fine. God, look at Chan, he literally has heart eyes. Disgusting.” 

It’s true. The pilot in question sits at the edge of the mat, elbows resting on top of his knees as he watches his girlfriend with his mouth open, lips upturned a little. His eyes are dazed, focused on Wylie as she holds onto a thrashing Junhui. There’s so much love in his gaze that Jihoon averts his eyes, worried he’s observing something sacred and private.  

“Not everyone is like them,” Seungkwan shoots back. “They share a brain cell.” 

“We’re literally drift partners. We basically do the same thing.” 

“And yet I don’t want to fuck you, Hoshi.” 

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. “You know, that brings up a valid question-”

“No,” the other three say at the same time, cutting him off before he can get going. 

Still, Seungkwan’s point is valid. The drift is something that is so intimate that it isn’t uncommon for copilots to have a romance or some sort of tension. The neural handshake makes you become one, unable to hide anything. It is inviting someone else into your head to see everything you see, everything you have seen. Memories, feelings, thoughts - nothing is yours anymore. 

Jihoon hides it all from his co-pilots. He knows he’s not supposed to - openness and being honest and true with your partner makes for a better drift. But the intimacy of the connection makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not ready for anyone to see him - really see him. 

So he hides in the drift. Knows how to bring nothing to it, to give only the parts of himself he has to in order for his partner to fight alongside him. Jihoon gives nothing more. And they don’t need it, frankly. 

The Marshall leads the new recruits back out of the room. He watches you go, wondering what your deal is. As though you sense his eyes on you, your eyes flicker over to his, catching his gaze. He’s unsure why, but he pauses, the room stilling for a split second. Then you’re grinning wickedly, vanishing from the room. 

He brushes it off and turns his eyes back to his friends. 

-

Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You don’t know why it’s the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. He’s dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket. 

He’s compact. Small, but toned, muscles rippling as he begins to go through a series of stretches. You know he’s a good fighter from your observations the day before. Everything about him screams efficiency. You can’t put your thumb on it, but the way he carries himself is methodical.

Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper. 

It’s the partners that he has a problem with. He’s had eight co-pilots in the last year alone, which is more than anyone has the right to. Before that, he managed to keep someone for six months before they requested a transfer to a different location. 

You sense Jihoon’s gaze, realizing he’s picked up on your staring. His expression is as neutral as it was yesterday, as though he has zero interest in whoever you are. He must not - he turns away and gets back to what he was doing, the moment passing without fanfare. 

Everyone in the room is paired with their pilots, going through fight sequences. You watch the different pairs, noting those who exhibit high-drift compatibility and others who are still learning. You note how many talented pilots this base has, likely due to the high activity. 

As though the thought summons the very creatures from the depths of the ocean, an alarm goes off. You don’t flinch, used to the kaiju alert system. It had gone off the day before, though. You look up at the screen as it flashes the names of the pilots on duty, calling them to report to the drop bridge. 

A few shouts of good luck draw your attention to the center of the room where two of the younger pilots head out. You’d seen them sparring earlier, so in time with one another that you weren’t sure where one began and one ended. The man looks at the girl and gives her a smile so full of love that you look away, startled at its intensity. 

While romantic connections between pilots aren’t totally uncommon, you’re not used to it. Most of the Rangers at your old base were family members and childhood friends, connection deep and intimate but not like that. You wonder what it must be like, if it makes love any easier to be that deeply connected. 

“So are you my new co-pilot?” a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. “You must be, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re not a cadet. And you’ve been watching me for the better part of two hours.” 

You shrug. “You can learn a lot from watching veterans.” 

“You could at least offer to spar to see if we’re any good together.”

“You mean to see if I’m good enough for you.” He lifts a shoulder, not disagreeing with you. Wiping your palms on your knees, you stand up. Even though he’s small, you’re still a little shorter than him, nearly eye level. You stick your hand out, giving him your name. “But you can call me Blue.”

Instead of taking your hand, he nods and turns on his heel, striding back to the mat he occupied earlier. You stand and stare at the newly vacated spot, hand held out in the air. “Alright,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your hand and going after him. 

Eyes follow you. You can feel them as you trail after him, watching his smooth, even gait. Everything about Jihoon is refined and controlled, even down to the minute expressions as he steps onto the mat and turns to face you. Sliding your shoes off, you join him, feeling the spring beneath your step and the softness of the floor.

Jihoon heads to a rack of bo staffs, picking one up and tossing it to you. You snatch it, spinning it lightly to test the weight. The balance is near perfect, a slight weight to the left side. You adjust accordingly, grip firm. Jihoon does the same, spinning his staff and rolling his shoulders.

“Who were those pilots called to make the drop?” you ask, conversational. 

“Dino and Wylie.” 

“Good pilots?” 

He takes his stance. “Excellent. They’re terrors. It won’t be a problem for them. Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Ambidextrous.”

“Good.” 

You don’t know why, but his assessing gaze bothers you suddenly. Like you know that even though you know you’re an excellent fighter, it still won’t be enough for him. The thought that you’ve lost before you even begun pricks a nerve and you strike first. 

It’s immediately obvious why you’re compatible. Jihoon knows your next move before you know what it is. You feel him move like an instinct, imagining his attack and defense before it happens. It isn’t a fight, but a dialogue, two skilled fighters communicating in a pattern only familiar to them. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and back. You barely register it, losing yourself in the rhythm of Jihoon’s movements. The sound of the training gym fades to the background and you barely hear the crack of your staffs as they meet over and over again. You hardly see him, vision fading to a narrow point of instinct.

This is how you fight. Muscle memory, driven by intuition.

Your intuition tells you that you’re perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that it’s hard to get a hit in - you won’t get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him. 

So you deviate. 

Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.

For a second, it’s just the two of you. His heart pounds, chest heaving in time with yours. Even your breaths are evenly matched, a tempo that is deeper than most human understanding. Drift compatible. You feel it the same way you feel the spark of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. You’re so aware of it that you don’t hear what he says at first, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.

“What?” 

“That doesn’t count,” he asserts. “I hit you first. The fight is over after that.”

You frown. “The fight doesn’t end until there’s a killing blow. A swipe to the ribs wouldn’t do it.”

“That isn’t how that works.” 

“There are no rules of engagement in the ocean.” 

He scowls. “There are basic principles to fighting. You lose when you get hit first.”

“Do you lose when a kaiju hits you first? Or do you keep fighting?” 

Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. You’ve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar.

And you’re still on top of him. 

Clearing your throat, you climb off of him smoothly. You offer a hand to help him up but he doesn’t take it, getting up on his own. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged peak and mouth twisted in frustration. You watch him as he gives the room around you a cutting glance, making everyone immediately turn back to what they were doing. 

Jihoon puts his staff back and you watch him. He looks minorly irritated on the surface, but you can see it rippling deeper than that. He’s unsettled and it makes you grin. 

“This won’t work,” Jihoon says as he turns back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his biceps flex and blink at him in confusion. “You can’t be my partner.”

“What? We’re compatible. That was one of the best fighting flows I’ve ever had.”

“We’re too different in principle.” 

That gets a frown from you. “I don’t think so at all. You let your instinct guide you. So do I.” 

“You deviate.” 

“I let the natural dialogue of the fight lead me.”

You let silence fall between you. You can see why so many other pilots had issues with him. Jihoon approaches every statement as though it is the absolute truth, a fact that cannot be disproven. He speaks with the authority of someone who knows he’s right often, and frequently goes unchallenged.

Instead of letting him get a rise out of you, you switch topics. “Are you hungry?”

He pauses. “What?” 

“What part of the question didn’t you understand? Are you hungry?”

Jihoon is perplexed. You’re sure that by now, mostly people have visibly grown upset with the combative dialogue. You don’t mind much, watching as he thinks on your question. You take the opportunity to appreciate the gentle slope of his nose up close, the delicate curve of his mouth, the contrast of feminine and masculine features that make an exquisite face. 

Then Jihoon unfolds his arms and walks past you. You turn to follow him but he says over his shoulder, “I don’t want to have lunch with you. We’re not friends.” 

There’s no room for argument in the way that he says it. You watch him as he leaves, never once turning back. 

-

You are vexing. 

There isn’t another word to describe you. Jihoon hasn’t the slightest idea how you’ve managed to so thoroughly irritate him at your first encounter, but he can’t stop thinking about how frustrated he is when he slams his tray down on the table. 

It’s a little early for lunch, mostly engineers and staff going on shift soon filling the room to eat quickly. The giant clock above the entryway to the cafeteria resets and Jihoon relaxes a little, confirming that Chan and Wylie are fine. He knew they would be - a Category Two kaiju is nothing for a pair like them.

Jihoon finds himself thinking of you. Of what you must be able to do in a jaeger.

Curious, Jihoon looks up your name. It rings a bell - you were pretty renowned at your homebase. Clicking through videos, he sets his phone on the table as he eats, eyes glued to the screen. Your drops are easily accessible to him, clicking through them as he eats. 

There is something hypnotizing the way you and your old co-pilot Maya Veliz fight. You’re efficient and without flashy moves, which he can appreciate. But there’s a speed at which you make decisions and take risks that has him shaking his head. 

Yet, there is something vaguely familiar. He pauses his meal to watch closer, realizing what it is. There is a brutality to your fighting that he recognizes in himself, a need to kill. You fight to win, willing to take a little damage if it means you can deal the final blow.

The thought unsettles him. Your fighting style is so similar to his that he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise. There is logic and calculation to your moves, but then there’s always that deviation. That random blip in your pattern that is unexpected and dangerous. 

“Will watching my drop footage make you like me more?”

Your voice startles him. He drops his fork and it clatters against the table, loud in the soft din of the cafeteria. You’re leaning over him, a smirk on your face and a devilish glint dancing in your eyes as you look at his phone screen where you successfully put down a kaiju. 

“Deathclaw wasn’t very impressive. It was pretty small. My mom and I took out Umbraxis my first year, though.”

Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. It’s already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-

You sit across from him and he looks up at you. His mind goes blank, staring as you unwrap your silverware picking up a fork to stab a piece of chicken and pop it into your mouth. You hum happily, totally unaware - or maybe unbothered - at his increasing irritation. 

“Tell me about your jaeger,” you demand - not ask. Your eyes find his, two pools of curiosity that have his tongue heavy, words sticky. “I want to know all about her.”

“You’re not going to make the drop with me.”

The curve of your mouth is wicked. “Tell me anyway.”

For a few minutes, Jihoon doesn’t answer. He waits to see if the silence will push you away or make you anxious. It doesn’t seem to. You keep eating without saying anything else, occasionally glancing at him with a cocked brow as if to suggest you have all the time in the world. 

“She was re-outfitted two years ago,” Jihoon says slowly. He doesn’t know why he’s answering you at all, but he continues, “Mark-5 now with the new outfitted tech - she’s still nuclear-driven to avoid any EMP attacks. Outfitted with GD6 steel-obsidian chain swords on each arm, but there are also smaller, detachable blades for hand-to-hand fighting, along with some projectiles. She’s also got a lightning strike powered by the nuclear-core but it can only be used once, and only as a last resort. It obliterates local wildlife in the water.”

“What’s the suspension look like?”

“Gyro-stabilizers to stay fluid when fighting and L-10 locks on all of the joints to strap in and withstand damage. She’s built to take a lot of blunt-force and melee attacks, but she’s top heavy if she loses footing.”

“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”

He nods. “Since my first drop.”

“She’s beautifully built.” 

Jihoon doesn’t respond. It does bring him a small sense of pride to know that you admire the jaeger he fights in, but he doesn’t thank you. He suspects you notice but doesn't say anything, which surprises him. You seem like the stubborn type who doesn't like to back down from a fight, and yet multiple times this morning you’ve conceded to him, refusing to get upset. 

It bothers him. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re a people pleaser or if you think you're gentle-parenting him, and he doesn’t like it either way. 

So he doesn’t talk to you. He lets the conversation die there, despite sensing your amusement from across the table. He feels the grip on his fork increase, metal biting into his palms as he tries to ignore you. He can smell the jasmine and amber of your perfume, which makes him feel more insane, and he can’t help but steal glances at you and dart his eyes away.

You’re pretty. He’s had attractive co-pilots before. That’s not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks it’s the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.

“Hi,” The raspy voice interrupts Jihoon’s thoughts and he looks up as Wylie slams her tray down on the table. She’s sweaty, freshly peeled from her Drivesuite and offering a hand to you as she gives her full name. “You can call me Wylie, though. Everyone does. Are you Woozi’s new co-pilot?”

“Yes,” you answer at the same time Jihoon says no. “Though I didn’t know that was the name he preferred.” 

Wylie shoots him a sly grin and sits down next to him. He curses and scoots over, the younger girl nearly on top of him as she leans her elbows on the table. “He doesn’t prefer it, which is why it stuck. He's a very cranky cat, but he’s nice once you get to know him.” 

Jihoon scowls, turning to her. “Did I invite you to sit down with us?”

“No.” 

That’s it. That’s the end of her statement. Jihoon watches as she settles happily, opening chocolate milk and chugging it back like it’s water. Jihoon cringes and readies to lob an insult her way when he’s interrupted again, another tray slamming down next to hers. 

Closing his eyes, Jihoon summons all the gods he doesn’t believe in to give him the god damn patience. Chan is wearing a shit-eating grin as he leans across the table, offering his hand in the same, chipper manner his partner had moments before. 

“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”

“Why Dino?” 

“I step on everyone.” 

You raise your brows, amused, eyes flickering to Wylie. Sensing your question, Wylie says around a mouthful of mac and cheese, “Like Wylie Coyote because I’m a menace who doesn’t stop attacking.” 

“How was your drop?” 

“Easy,” they say in unison. 

Jihoon focuses on his plate, feeling grouchy. They start to talk like he’s not even there, and though that is typically how conversations go around him, he’s suddenly bothered by it. Especially when you seem so smug that at least someone likes you. 

He wants to tell you they don’t count. Chan is one of the nicest people in the Shatterdome and will talk to anyone, if they give him the time of day. Wylie isn’t exactly nice but she’s in love with Chan and is happy to be nice to anyone who is being nice to him. The pair are relatively easy to win over. 

It only gets worse for him when Soonyoung and the others start sitting down. Everyone seems eager to ask you questions, a new shiny toy for his friends to play with. He chews on the corner of his lip, feeling stormy in the corner of the table as Seokmin peppers you with questions and exclamations at your answers. 

A shift in tension makes Jihoon look up. Seungcheol sits down at the table slowly, as though trying not to be a distraction or catch any attention. He’s three seats away from Wylie and out of her eyeshot, but Wylie is a born predator, sensing him like a hunter. Her eyes cut over to Seungcheol and she bristles, shooting up to her feet to grab her tray and storm off. 

Chan sighs, muttering a brief apology before grabbing his things and going after her. Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, watching the way his jaw ticks at the interaction. Surprisingly, you don’t ask any questions. You lean over to Soonyoung and ask him about some of their earlier fights, shifting the energy at the table from tense to light in a second.

Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesn’t introduce himself, he’s not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and he’s been unable to find someone to replace her. 

He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative. 

Jihoon does learn a little bit about you while listening to everyone talk, though. You've only had two co-pilots in your life where Jihoon has lost count. He wonders what growing up piloting with a parent feels like, and though you smile as you talk about growing up working with your mom, there’s a tightness to your mouth, a look in your eye that he can’t place.

Feeling his gaze, your eyes shift to him. Jihoon realizes he’s been staring at you. He stands and leaves the table abruptly, Seokmin’s voice apologizing on his behalf drifting after him. 

Thankfully, you don’t follow him. He dumps his tray and leaves it in the discarded pile for the cafeteria staff and immediately begins the climb to the command bridge where the Marshall’s office is. His thoughts race but go nowhere at the same time, an echochamber that he can’t untangle. 

Before Jihoon can knock on the entrance to the Marshall’s office, the military commander looks up and waves Jihoon in. “I was about to call for you. Shut the door, please.”

Jihoon does so without comment and sits down. He glances around the office, distracting himself as the Marshall finishes what he was working on. The office is orderly and tidy, every ounce the professional and uptight officer that sits in front of Jihoon, leaning back in the seat to sigh heavily and level Jihoon with a stare. 

Before Jihoon can open his mouth to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t be his pilot, the Marshall speaks. “You’re on probation.” 

“I - what?” 

“For the next three months, if you lose your co-pilot, you will be reassigned to administrative work or to a new Shatterdome.”

Jihoon opens his mouth. Closes it. The weight of the Marshall’s words don’t quite sink in, though Jihoon can tell they’re heavy. Real. “We’ve given you plenty of chances to effectively remain a pilot for Storm Breaker, but the board feels as though the trade off has become an issue.”

“The trade off?”

“You’re costing us money. And cadets. People want to train where they can potentially see themselves become a pilot. When we have open spots and jaegers coming up on retirement, it bolsters recruitment.” The Marshall levels him with a tired stare. “But when we have a pilot who no one can partner with, it puts us in a bind to send cadets where they will fit elsewhere.” 

“Look - “

“No you look, Lee. You’ve been a pilot here for six years. That’s considered a veteran in this field. But the higher ups grow tired of even veterans when they’ve been unmanageable for the last two of those six years.”

Heat flashes up the side of Jihoon’s neck, equal parts embarrassed and angry. He’d been the first in his class to suit up, selected as Haneul’s co-pilot to fill in for their partner that had retired. Jihoon remembers how proud - and nervous - he was and how easy it had been to partner with Haneul.

He didn’t have that anymore, the safety net of the only parental figure he’d ever known gone. 

“The pilots you’ve paired me with have no business being in a jaeger,” Jihoon says matter of factly. “I don’t respect them.”

“Well good thing we’ve given you someone to respect.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I can’t fight with her.”

“You can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. You’ll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me partner with her. I don’t like her.”

The Marshall stands. “One day you might learn that if you give people a chance, you’d like what you find.” 

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshall’s office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city. 

Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylie’s successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of. 

Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didn’t frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju. 

Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. He’s talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chan’s grief.

A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isn’t cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. He’s not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control. 

Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because he’s too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. He’s not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.

Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor. 

Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or he’s out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Can’t push you away like he has the others. 

And he hates you for it.

-

Music bleeds through the metal door out into the hall. You wonder how any of the neighboring rooms let him get away with it. Then again, Lee Jihoon seems like someone most jaeger pilots don’t go toe-to-toe with often, if they can help it. At least it’s classical music, the swelling sound of Mozart sweeping into the hallway as you open the door, propping it with your hip to haul the box in your arms through. 

Jihoon’s eyes snap open immediately. He’s lounging on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner of the room, face lit by the glow of the muted screen in the corner showing the rain and ocean spray beating against the Shatterdome. Nothing disturbs the seas at the moment, though you wonder in a hotspot like this how long that will last. 

A scowl twists his mouth. You let the door shut behind you, setting the box down on the media table by the doorway. “Mozart?” you ask, arching a brow. He glares at you, sitting up from where he had been lounging with his hands tucked behind his head. “A bit cliche, don’t you think?” 

“What do you know about music?”

“Enough to know that someone with balanced compositions that orchestrate total control and logic in its make is… not surprising for you.” He blinks in surprise. “I like Tchaikovsky. There’s something more mercurial to his compositions.” 

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”

“I didn’t say one was better than the other.” You smirk. “You don’t like differences of opinion, do you?”

“I always value opinions. Some more than others.”

“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

Jihoon closes his eyes and lays back on the bed. His blonde hair is undone, fanning around him in a silvery-white halo. “The trash chute, preferably.” 

“Wherever I want, got it.” 

He ignores you. You suppress a laugh and move into the room proper. It’s small, filled with only the essentials to house two people to eat, sleep, and shower. A small kitchenette sits to your left, hidden in darkness with all of the lights off. You spot a shelf filled with dry goods - mostly protein bars - and coffee. There is a sad excuse for a sitting area with a tiny table and two chairs next to the TV screen, a bunk bed with a wardrobe next to it, and a tiny bathroom.

Cozy. 

Pulling open the wardrobe, you see that there’s room for your things. You shoot Jihoon a sidelong glance. He certainly hadn’t moved his things over to take over the full wardrobe after his last pilot left. You wonder if he’s just used to being unable to use the full space or if he had made room for you.

You doubt it’s the latter. 

Ave Verum Corpus plays in the background as you unpack the tiny box that is your life. You hum along, shutting the wardrobe and padding over to the bathroom. Jihoon could be asleep for all you know, but you suspect he’s not. When you glance over at him after shutting the medicine cabinet, you see his foot tapping to the beat of the music.

“What other kind of music do you like?” His foot stops tapping at your question.

Turning off the bathroom light, you move to the door to break down the cardboard box you brought your things in. Jihoon doesn’t answer at first, his frame rigid with tension, as though he had forgotten you were there until you spoke. You suppose that’s entirely possible, if not a little unlikely. 

Just when you think he’s not going to answer, he mutters, “I like ballads.”

“Romantic.” He frowns but doesn’t say anything further. “What’s your favorite one? Or artist?”

“Go play twenty questions with someone else. I’m not interested.”

“I’m going to find out anyway.” He opens his eyes then. They’re dark, pupils blown as his face twitches in an almost snarl. “It is an inevitable fact that we will have to drift. I recommend making peace with that now.” 

“I’m going to bed,” he announces, flopping over on his side and crossing his arms.

You let Jihoon be mean. It does you no good to fight with him when you eventually need him on your side, and you can sympathize with him to a degree. He didn’t choose you as his pilot and he’s backed into a corner, a do or die situation that he can’t back out of. The only way is forward and it’s against his will. 

As he pretends to sleep, you occupy yourself on the top bunk with your tablet, sliding headphones over your ears so he doesn’t bitch you out. Flicking through online channels, you familiarize yourself with your fellow jaeger pilots at the Shatterdome, watching fight footage and interviews. 

You come across a set of popular pilots, only one of them familiar to you. You recognize the man from dinner earlier - he had sat down and the tension around the table had increased tenfold. Wylie had immediately clocked his presence and stormed off, Chan trailing behind her with an apologetic look.

Tapping on their information, you hum in interest to yourself. Seungcheol. You recognize the name, vaguely. He piloted Duellona Fury with his copilot, a woman you don’t recognize but that has a bright smile. They make a good team, totally in sync and feeding off each other’s energy. You wonder where she is now, assuming she’s the source of the tension between Wylie and Seungcheol.

You wonder what you and Jihoon will be like as drift partners. So far he seems to hate you, but he does tolerate you. It’s a start, if not ideal. You won’t start drifting right away - not for real anyway. Practicing combat drills and learning more about one another is the first step to any partnership, followed by practice drifts.

In the drift, there’s no room for hatred or enmity. Trust is paramount, but almost as important is respect. Respect for what you see in the thoughts and feelings of your partner, respect that they’re good at what they do and that they’re the best person for the job, respect that they are your equal. Too many partners get lost in trying to save the other, losing sight of being equally capable or feeling like they know better. 

Jihoon doesn’t seem capable of that. Not right now, anyway. It doesn’t matter, though. You’re his only option to stay in the jaeger program, and though he hasn’t said anything about it, you’re pretty sure he knows. 

“Can you shut the tablet off?” Jihoon grunts from below. You sigh heavily, tucking it to your chest. “The glow is fucking bright.”

“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.” 

“Yeah, so your tablet adds to the general light in the room.”

“Close your eyes.”

“It isn’t helping. Go under your covers.”

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in, you lock the tablet and shove it under your pillow. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but it’s more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude. 

You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.

-

You are not a morning person. Lee Jihoon, however, is a morning person. Which is why it takes everything inside of you not to launch your pillow at him when you hear the classical music wake you from sleep in the morning, making you lift your heavy head to look around the room, vision blurry.

Heat from a fresh shower drifts from the bathroom only a short distance away. You stare in confusion, blinking rapidly as Jihoon walks out of the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth furiously with one hand, looking at his phone with the other, blue light making him look like a phantom in the dim light. 

And he’s dressed in nothing but a towel slung low on his waist, making you nearly go catatonic. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen a body before - it’s just a body, and soon enough, you’ll be in his head. It’s important to get any weirdness out of the way because in the drift, you’ll bare everything. But for some reason the image of his small, compact body scrambles your brain this early in the morning.

Jihoon is built like a weapon, all sleek lines and hard muscles. He stands in the kitchen, setting down his phone as he opens cabinets and starts to make coffee, toothbrush still in his mouth. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, skin pale and smooth as the moon. 

“Are you a coffee person?” he asks, because he knows you’re awake. Of course he does. You don’t answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies he’s willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. “Now you shut up?” 

That brings a scowl to your face. “Yes, I drink coffee.” 

“Great.” 

He goes back to what he was doing, ignoring you entirely. Dragging your eyes away from him, feeling flushed and overwarm, you throw the covers back, scrambling from the top bunk. You land with a soft huff, feeling the chill of the concrete floor as you dart to the wardrobe to pull out clothes. 

“What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look at the TV.”

Got it, you think. He’ll make coffee for you but not do something as simple as answer what time it is. You do look at the TV, seeing the darkened feed of the churning ocean breaking against the walls of the Shatterdome. There are multiple camera angles, weather radar and Dome messages that break up the screen into sections. The time is in the top corner, flashing 5:13 am. 

“Ji, it is five in the morning.”

“Five-thirteen. And don’t call me Ji. I’m not your buddy.” 

Taking a deep breath, you mutter curses under your breath. “I’m going to shower.”

As expected, you get no response. 

The great thing about living in a billion dollar buildinding with hundreds of people is that there’s no shortage of hot water. You’re grateful as the steam fills the room, hot water making your coiled muscles melt the second you step under the shower. You let the frustration from the morning fade away, the rush of the water and the feel of it sluicing down your back-

A loud knock on the door breaks your reverie. You hear it open. Jihoon grunts, “I wasn’t done brushing my teeth. I need the sink.”

“Then use the sink.”

Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, it’s sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background. 

He’s back in the kitchen by the time you’re out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. You venture out into the main room in kind, deciding that if he is going to walk around in nothing but a towel, so will you. He barely gives you a glance from his bottom bunk, lounging around in low-slung sweats with no shirt, blonde hair splayed on his pillow. You ignore him in favor of the lone mug of coffee sitting in the kitchen steaming.

Gripping it and bringing it up, you let the ceramic warm you from your palms upward, inhaling before taking a tentative sip. It’s bitter but it helps you wake up. You glance at Jihoon from over the lip of the cup. He scrolls on a tablet mindlessly, as though he’s forgotten you’re there.

Neither one of you speaks as you finish your coffee. Turning to the sink, you start washing the cup out. You notice his used mug sitting in the bottom of the sink and pick it up, wash it and put it in the drying rack next to yours without thinking about it before returning to the bathroom to dress fully.

Once dressed and out of the bathroom, it’s almost six. Jihoon is bent over by the door, his boot on the coffee table as he laces it. Now fully dressed, his long hair is pulled back in a bun, a few silver whisps escaping and falling across his face. Again, you’re struck by how beautiful he is for a moment. 

He straightens and looks at you, raising his brows. Instead of answering him, you hurry to the wardrobe, pulling out your boots to slide them on and head to breakfast. You half expect him to leave you behind, but to your surprise, he lingers with the door open, dark eyes clocking your every movement. As soon as you’re done tying laces, he’s out the door and charging again, leaving you to scramble behind him.

Silence follows you into the cafeteria, which has the quiet atmosphere of an early morning. Workers and pilots ending their shifts sit at the table, scarfing down breakfast for dinner. Early shift workers hurry to grab a bite before heading off to the different parts of the Shatterdome. It’s not nearly as loud as lunch or dinner, but the soft din is inviting as you go through the line, following your new co-pilot wordlessly. 

None of the friendly faces from yesterday are in the cafeteria, so the two of you sit alone. Jihoon is methodical as he sets up his breakfast, each move calculated and precise. He eats the same way, finishing something entirely before moving on to the next time. 

His obsession with organization and control is almost fascinating, if not a little worrying. Instead of asking about it, you eat in silence, humming delightedly at the cheesy hashbrowns made available that morning. He casts you a single annoyed glance when he notices you enjoying your meal. 

Breakfast goes without a fight, though. Glancing at the large clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, you realize you only have a few minutes left before your day of training starts. Jihoon seems to be on the same wavelength, pulling out his phone to scroll through your schedule. 

“Meditation first,” he murmurs. He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands without preamble. “Do you think you can manage meditation?”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we haven’t spoken for over an hour.”

Confusion crosses his face, quickly followed by astonishment. He hadn’t realized that most of your morning has been spent in silence. His brows pull together, mouth turning slightly as he works over your words. It seems to make him unhappy. He narrows his eyes and his mouth twists before he turns and marches away from the table, leaving you behind. 

Mouth quirking, you follow quickly, not wanting to lose your way to wherever it is you’re supposed to report to. He walks faster this time, determined to keep you moving and on your toes. Wherever the studio designated to you for the morning feels like it’s halfway around the world. Jihoon leads you down a series of halls and stairs, never slowing his pace once.

By the time you get to a small, soundproof room, your calves are burning. 

“You need conditioning,” he mutters, noticing the way you’re a little out of breath.

“You basically just took me on a light jog,” you protest. “I think it’s fair to be a little winded this early in the morning.”

“It doesn’t matter what time it is. What will you do if we make the drop at four in the morning?” 

Jihoon doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he goes to the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, and crosses his legs. Instead of taking his bait and picking a fight with him, you sigh and stride into the room. He positions himself, ready for you to sit in front of him. Instead, you circle around him, sitting down behind him. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, twisting toward you.

“Meditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, try. It’s easier to feel your breaths and your heartbeat this way. Plus, there's less pressure if you don’t have to look directly at me.”

“Thank god for that,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like there’s a spark. 

The hum of the air condition is the only sound in the room. You close your eyes, leaning into Jihoon so that you fit flush together. You match your breaths with his, feeling your breathing slow down. Your heart slows to, like it’s trying to let him catch up, both of you melting into the same rhythm. 

Behind you, Jihoon relaxes. The back of his head rests against yours, both of you leaning into the touch, becoming the equal opposing force holding the other up. 

Balance is imperative in co-pilots. Jihoon needed to bring to the fight what you lacked and vice versa, the two of you making something whole, something complete. It’s a balance that’s not easily achieved, and though you’d always been a good pair with your mother and then maya, you know instinctively that it’s nothing compared to Jihoon’s counterbalance. 

A timer goes off in the room, startling you with how quickly time has passed. You blink your eyes rapidly, letting the room swim back into focus. For a second, neither one of you moves, content to lean against the other until Jihoon seems to realize he’s still pressed against you. He scrambles to his feet unexpectedly and you fall backward, losing his counterweight immediately. 

Thunking against the floor, you glare up at him. He smirks, looking down at you as he wipes dust from the back of his pants. “You should never let a co-pilot fall,” you huff, hauling yourself to your feet. 

“Good thing we’re not really co-pilots.”

“Yet,” you supply. You get up, stretching and feeling your joints pop. “Even you can’t deny that it was a great first meditation session.”

“Let’s go. We have sparring.” 

-

Jihoon doesn’t like you. 

He doesn’t like you, but he has to admit you are a perfect fit for him. You are loud where he is quiet, you make light when he remains serious, and you deviate when he’s planned. Yet somehow, you manage to mesh with him in your training, the perfect opposite force to him.

For the most part, you leave him alone. He can tell you’ve figured out when to bite back and when to eat your words. It’s become a game to him, throwing insults your way to watch whether you’ll riposte back or swallow your pride. 

The amount of times you swallow your pride impresses him, unfortunately. His original assessment that you are unpredictable and uncontrolled was wrong. He can see the way you actively meet his cold winter with warm summer, trying to melt him. 

He doesn't like giving you credit for your control, but he does so begrudgingly. 

Worst of all, he realizes that it’s not you he dislikes. It’s his situation, it’s knowing that you’re his lifeline and he has to accept you, and it’s knowing that despite his initial dislike, you’re a mirror that he can’t look away from. It doesn’t help that you live two feet away from him at all times, occupying every moment of his life just a reach-of-a-hand away. 

Training is tiring. It feels like he’s a rookie all over again, going through the exercises as the two of you learn to fight together, moving through meditation sessions, sparring, talking sessions - which don't really involve a lot of talking on his part as much as yours - and drop simulations. 

Drop simulations are the most exhausting for him. You bring everything to the drift. It’s nearly overwhelming at first how much you’re willing to show him. From the moment the mental bridge connects the two of you through the simulation software, Jihoon is shocked at the way you lay yourself bare. You hide nothing from him, letting him roam around your thoughts at his leisure. 

He feels everything you’ve ever felt. Elation when you make your first real drop with your first co-pilot, your mom. Sore ribs after a particularly difficult sparring match when you were a teeager in the training program. Pride when you finish the top of your training program. Terror when a fight goes awry and your mother overwhelms you in the drift, taking the full neural load of the jaeger to protect you. Rage at her doing so. 

“What happened here?” he finds himself asking, sticking near the memory. 

He thinks you won’t answer him, but of course you do. Unlike him, you’re open for the taking. “The hull was breached in my first year of fighting. My mother panicked because it was on my side of the jaeger and she tried to take on the neural load.” 

Jihoon says nothing. Piloting a jaeger alone overwhelms the nervous system and the brain, which is why each jaeger has two pilots in the first place. It can be done, but the risk for damage is always present. He senses where your conversation is going.

“We only piloted together for three more years after that. She was starting to struggle to make the drift, so we paused to get her examined. They discovered lesions on her brain and linked it to the damage from that day she tried to pilot alone.”

“She wanted to protect you.”

“She did, but it doesn’t make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.” You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. “I am deserving of treated like an equal.” 

He understands what you’re really saying, that he should treat you like an equal too. Instead of responding, he busies himself with studying other parts of you that you let him have. 

There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though he’ll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while. 

Every drift, you remain open to him, your thoughts for the taking. You don’t even hide the moments you’ve thought of him - both in occasional attraction and irritation. Irritation at him bringing nothing to drift, opening no part of himself to you. Irritation when he’s mean to you. Hesitant fondness when he does something nice. Confused attraction when he walks around in just a towel. 

Water sluices down his back. Jihoon’s thoughts are still foggy from three weeks of nothing but practice and drills. He also finds it harder to sleep sometimes in the room, his dreams filled with the scent of your amber and jasmine and the lively sound of Tchaikovsky acting as the soundtrack to his dreams.

You’re still asleep when he exits the bathroom. He’s made sure to turn the light off before opening the door, steam billowing out after him. He scoops headphones from the nightstand as he heads to the kitchen, towel snug around his waist. He pops the earbuds in, the sound of Mozart starting his morning as he begins to make coffee. 

Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until he’s made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine. 

On the way to the bathroom, he stops by your bunk. He hesitates for a second, drinking you in as you sleep. Nestled in that top bunk is the only place you’re as peaceful as you are in the drift. Your features are smoothed out as you slumber, mouth open a little, drool sticky on the corner of your mouth. Jihoon’s lips twitch a little and he shakes his head before reaching out to tap the ankle hanging off your bed. You mumble in response. 

“Get up,” he says gruffly. “You’ve slept long enough.”

He returns to the bathroom and shuts the door to get fully dressed. He knows you’ll be standing in the kitchen looking dazed and confused sipping coffee until he comes out and frees the bathroom for you to shower. 

The alarm for a kaiju alert goes off. He hears it blaring over his music and he pulls the earbuds out, opening the door half dressed in just pants as he looks at the screen flashing red. A Category Four kaiju has been sighted in the bay. His heart skips, knowing that Cat-4 kaiju are dangerous even for the most skilled pilots at the Dome. 

Assignments flash across the screen. Solar Saber and Fang Striker have been summoned to drop. Nervousness flutters in Jihoon’s stomach. He snatches a shirt and yanks it over his head, moving quickly around the room to grab boots. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, leaning off the counter. 

“Heading to the command deck. Come or don’t.”

“I’ll come.” 

You dump your coffee in the sink, jumping to action as you peel off your pajama pants, searching for cargos. Jihoon hardly realizes you’re changing in front of him - he’s seen it all in your head anyway - as he laces his boots. He doesn’t know why, but he starts to explain himself, “Dino and Wylie have a… history with Cat-4 kaiju.” 

“You want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.” He nods at the accurate assessment. “Got it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.”

Jihoon does. He fires off what he knows about the team. Their stats are fine, but a Category Four kaiju is new for them. They have a good jaeger. It’s on the newer side, nuclear powered with plasma cannons and a massive plasma sword that burns brighter than the sun, earning the machine its name. It’s piloted by a set of twins, which produce some of the best drifts in the jaeger program.

But there’s a nervousness in Jihoon’s stomach that he can’t place. Everytime his friends drop, he knows they’ll be okay - but he also knows the level of danger. Perhaps it’s because of Chan and Wylie’s accident last year or because they’re dropping with a team Jihoon doesn’t trust, but he suddenly wants to tell the Marshall to let Storm Breaker do the drop.

A hand brings him out of his thoughts. Your gaze is as calm as the surface of a lake, piercing. “We’re ready, if we need to be.” 

Of course you know what he’s thinking. Despite his best efforts, you seem particularly good at stitching the tiny threads that escape through Jihoon’s wall of ice.  

You drop your hand and grab the room keys, heading toward the door with top speed. His arm is warm where your fingers were a moment ago, burning like a brand. He shakes it off as he follows you out, both of you jogging up to the top level of the Shatterdome to observe. 

Crew races around the dome. Jihoon sees Seungkwan and Vernon rushing up the stairs to the command deck. He follows suit, you quick on his heels. People fill the room, talking over one another as they shout into headsets and screens flash different camera angles. 

The Marshall stands in the center of it all behind the LOCCENT Mission Controller who will walk the pilots through the fight. Jihoon doesn’t recognize the man giving them instructions, but he joins the wall of people standing behind him to observe the screens, taking a place next to Vernon and Seungkwan. 

You glance at Vernon and back to Jihoon, a question in your gaze. “This is Vernon,” Jihoon says in response. “He’s currently a jumphawk pilot. Could be a jaeger pilot if he could figure out the drift but he’s too screwy up top.” 

“Thanks, man.”

“You can call me Blue,” you offer. Your eyes drift to the screens. “Friends of the pilots out there?”

“Wylie is one of my best friends.” 

Instead of telling him something like they’ll be alright or offering words of comfort, all you do is nod. Jihoon respects that. Anything comforting would be a potential lie and useless in a world of blood and metal, salt and fire. 

The entire room falls into a steady cadence. Jihoon crosses his arms as he focuses on the screen. He’s mutely aware that you’re standing so close to him he can feel the heat of your arm, hands shoved in your pockets as you watch the screens, brows furrowed in concentration. 

On screen, Solar Saber churns the water toward a towering kaiju in the bay. The creature is straight out of a nightmare, a barbed tail whipping across the surface of the ocean, misting water as it does. From what Jihoon can tell, it’s got four legs, each equipped with long talons. Rows and rows of teeth reveal itself as the kaiju opens its mouth and roars, the vibration from the sound so deep that it vibrates underneath his feet. 

“I don’t like that tail,” Vernon mutters next to Jihoon. 

“It’s like a manticore.” Jihoon glances at you. You’re not looking at them, but your head is tilted in curiosity as you point to the screen. “Four legs, a curved tail with a barb. The webbing around its neck suggests it might have a frill.”

“Strike teams, confirm positions,” the LOCCENT controller says into the mic. 

“Fang Striker in position two miles north of kaiju and Solar Saber.” It’s Wylie’s raspy voice that crackles over the shared radiowave with the jaeger teams. “Perimeter is set.”

“Solar Saber ready to engage,” a female voice comes over the speaker. Jihoon recognizes it as one of the twin co-pilots, Jezzi. 

“Permission to engage.” 

As Solar Saber engages with the kaiju, the command deck goes quiet. People guiding the helicopters and ground teams speak softly into their mics, a level of tense calm washing over as everyone watches the fight ensue.

Solar Saber is beautiful to watch fight. The armor is painted radiant gold and the glow of the sword is magnificent against the stormy waters as it slashes at the kaiju. Jezzi and her sister Yaz are calm throughout their bout, their voices clear and communicative as the kaiju batters them. 

“Cut off the tail,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s going to-”

Jihoon sees what you do as soon as you say it. While trying to kill the kaiju with a direct blow, Solar Saber has forgotten about the tail. The tip of the tail shivers, reminding Jihoon of a cat ready to strike, and it does. One moment, Solar Saber and the kaiju are locked in a wrestling match. Next, the tail is hammering the hull of the jaeger, striking over and over again like a scorpion.

Chaos explodes on the screens. Jihoon holds his breath as red flashes across the screens as the tail breaches the hull of Solar Saber. A tingle settles over him, the buzz of nerves as he watches Solar Saber take a knee, ocean water surging around the jaeger as the kaiju’s tail continues to hammer the jaeger’s head open. 

Jihoon grabs the LOCCENT Controller’s chair and yanks him backward out of the way, jamming his finger against the button to speak. “Don’t let it force you under the waterline,” he barks. “Cut off that tail, Solar Saber. If it forces you down, you’re going to take on water and drown.” 

“The right panel is damaged from acid from the tail,” Jezzi yells over the comes. “Sword arm cannot engage.” 

“Then disengage, Solar Saber. Do not let it force you down another knee.” 

Yaz screams back something incomprehensible over the comms. The left arm of Solar Saber lurches, reaching for the kaiju’s tail. It catches, yanking at the appendage hard. The kaiju screams as the tail breaks where Solar Saber has it gripped. The kaiju frenzies, screaming wildly as frills - just like you’d predicted - shake to life by its head, vibrating back and forth in a threat display as its dismembered tail whips back and forth, spraying ichor. 

“Fang Striker engaging,” Chan’s voice comes over the comms.

It’s the Marshall who answers. “Fang Striker, hold the perimeter.” 

“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes. 

The Marshall turns to you and Jihoon. “We’re ready,” Jihoon says at the same time as you.

A string of curses leaves Marshall’s mouth. “Fang Striker, assist Solar Saber with the intent to disengage. Storm Breaker dropping in ten.” 

Heart hammering, Jihoon turns to follow you out of the command center, footsteps like thunder as you sprint to the jaeger bay. He doesn’t even think twice about dropping with you, any reservations about you vanishing as the fighting instinct takes over. 

You’re an entirely different person when you step onto the catwalk, your team already scrambling with pieces of your Drivesuit. There is an eerie calm about you. You meet his gaze head on as your team fits armored pieces of Drivesuit onto your arms. Jihoon sees himself reflected so clearly that he’s startled. 

“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment. 

“Show me what you’re made of,” he says simply. 

Your mouth curves in a wicked grin and you nod once, understanding. 

Storm Breaker is beautiful. The fondness for her sweeps over him as he steps into the cockpit. The screens come to life, casting blue and red glow all over as he steps into the Conn-pod. He sheds any reservations he has as the team helps him connect. You’re only a few feet away, stepping into the left side of the Conn-pod. 

Jihoon’s world shifts to screens and canned voices in his headset as the shield of his helmet closes. It’s Seungkwan he hears over comms saying, “Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.” 

“Do the pilots always take over the LOCCENT Controller’s here?” you muse, just to Jihoon. 

His lips twitch. “What can I say? Seungkwan knows I’m a control freak.” 

“Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…” 

The world around him goes mute for a moment. Jihoon’s vision flashes white for a second. He feels you then, your thoughts and feelings becoming his. They’re not overwhelming though. He feels focus and determination from you with an undercurrent of ferocity. All of your memories and other feelings are there too, but they exist in the background. You’re a seasoned pilot, Jihoon doesn’t have to worry about you chasing the rabbit and falling down a hole of memories. 

“Neural handshake holding and strong,” Seungkwan calls. “Initiating drop in three… two… one…”

Jihoon’s stomach flies into his throat as he falls away from the world. The world is nothing but freefall for a few seconds. He feels the thrill that shoots through you and smiles - he can’t help it. Bending at the knee, he braces for impact. You do the same, and the cockpit lands on the jaeger’s mainframe with a metallic clang.

“Calibrating right hemisphere,” Jihoon announces, feeling the machine start to power to life. “Calibrated.” 

You repeat on the left side, the full machine powered on and ready with both hemispheres locked in.

“Storm Breaker ready to pursue,” Jihoon says. He looks up at the screen where Fang Striker is engaging the kaiju. Outside of Storm Breaker, he might feel his heart race with panic. Solar Saber is overturned and he has no idea if the pilots are inside of it as it takes on water. “Two miles out from contact.” 

“Pursue.” 

Your first step as a team is perfect. Fluid. Jihoon knew it would be. He hates to admit that he was wrong, but he knows it is. There is a thread of satisfaction bleeding over from you as Storm Breaker charges into the ocean, water rising rapidly around the waist. 

Ocean water slams against Storm Breaker’s chest as you charge toward the fighting. Fang Striker’s comms are patched in, but Wylie and Chan are silent as they rip at the kaiju, pulling at one of its wings that it unfolded from its back. Fang Striker looks tiny against the hulking mass of the monster, but its team is doing what it does best, savaging the creature a little at a time.

“Storm Breaker half a mile out,” you announce, voice like steel. “Ready to engage.” 

“Engage at your discretion.”

“Storm Breaker,” Chan says over comms. “Try and restrain this motherfucker. We’ve got a loose plate in its armor to exploit but it keeps shaking us off.”

“Heard.” 

As if hearing Chan, the kaiju flings Fang Striker off. Fang Striker’s red body crashes into the ocean, Wylie cursing the kaiju straight to hell and about fifty other foul places. 

Storm Breaker engages, both you and Jihoon plunging into the fight. The kaiju swipes at you but you both duck together, dodging the swing as you punch hard from the left in tandem. You knock it hard, it’s head snapping to the side. As a team, you use the opening to wrap the right arm around the kaiju’s neck, squeezing it toward Storm Breaker’s chest in a headlock. 

Stabilizers and locks click into place. He grits his teeth, as though feeling the actual strength it takes as the kaiju roars and claws at Storm Breaker, trying to free itself from the headlock. Together, you put the left arm around it, adding to the force to keep the kaiju from slipping from your grip. 

Clawed blows hammer down on Storm Breaker. Neither of you gives way, tightening your grip on the creature and ignoring the way the talons scratch against the hull. Storm Breaker is built to withstand, and neither one of you flinches as furious blows rain down on you, fists hammering. 

“It looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,” Wylie’s voice comes over comms. “Hey Woozi, do you feel like it’s composing one of those songs you like?”

“Oh sure,” he shoots back. “Take your time, Wylie. It’s not like it’s trying to crack us like an egg.” 

“Ugh,” you sigh. “Don’t talk about food. I didn’t eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? He’s always at the cafeteria first.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.” 

Fang Striker appears from the sky like a creature from hell, a red streak of death as it falls. They land on the kaiju’s back, the force of the landing vibrating through Storm Breaker’s frame. The kaiju tries to twist in Storm Breaker’s arms, but you and Jihoon tighten even further. Fang Striker’s sword glints in the sunlight as it unsheathes. 

“Don’t stab us,” you say at the same exact time that Jihoon has the thought.

They almost do. Fang Striker buries the sword through the back of the kaiju, the tip of the blade peaking through its chest, almost scraping against Storm Breaker’s stomach. The monster thrashes wildly for a few minutes, clawing at Storm Breaker’s hull. Fang Striker hits the release on their sword, leaving it embedded in the kaiju’s back to stand and fire into the kaiju with plasma cannons. 

Jihoon feels the tremor of the shots land. There’s a final kick from the kaiju before it slumps, putting all of its deadweight on Storm Breaker. In unison, you and Jihoon throw the creature off of you. It lands with a crash, water surging around the creature as its weight drags it down before buoyancy pulls it back up.

Storm Breaker straightens, standing in the open water with a battered Fang Striker a couple of yards away. Panting, Jihoon looks across the Conn-pod where you’re already looking at him, shield on your helmet up as you grin at him. There is unguarded happiness there, nearly as bright as the sun that glints off Storm Breaker’s helm. 

“So,” you ask the group. “Can we get hashbrowns now?”

Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesn’t dislike you at all. 

-

“Would you slow down?” Jihoon asks, setting his tray down next to you roughly. He plops in the seat next to you, giving you a severe side eye. “You’re going to throw up the second you hit the treadmill eating that fast.”

“I want to get more bacon before they run out,” you whine. “They won’t make more once it’s gone.”

Uncovering the top of his tray, Jihoon reveals a heap of bacon slices. You oggle as he sets it between the two of you, shaking his head and scoffing. “Yeah,” he huffs. “I know. I brought more, so slow down.”

Affection for your co-pilot warms you. The affection is certainly one-sided, but you don’t mind. In the four months you’ve been co-piloting with Jihoon, he still hasn’t opened up to you.

Despite having made the drop five times together, Jihoon still brings almost nothing to the drift. You catch pieces of him, tiny snippets of memories or emotions or thoughts as you become one. You slowly use them to fit together the pieces of the Jihoon puzzle you’ve been working on every day. 

It helps that you live in such close proximity, too. Jihoon’s habits speak far more for them than his words ever could. Like the way he wakes up at the same exact time every day and tries to be asleep at the same time every night, or the way he meticulously cleans your shared living space every Sunday, or the way he starts every sparring session with the same eight-stretch sequence.

He still doesn’t talk about him in your time slotted for getting to know one another. It’s not therapy exactly, but every pilot team has designated time daily to talk things out. To work through things that are bothering them, or to talk about themselves. The more pilots know one another, the better they fight.

You know virtually nothing about Jihoon. He doesn’t talk about himself during sessions, so you talk for him. You tell him about your childhood, about piloting with your mom, about how much you miss Maya. He eventually starts asking questions. Provides responses.

“We’re on the drop schedule tomorrow,” Jihoon notes, flicking through his tablet on the table next to him. “It’s graveyard shift. Do you want me to ask Mingyu and Wonwoo to switch to the day shift?” 

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a critical look. “You’re awful in the mornings.” 

“Not when I’m fighting.” You snatch more bacon. “Would you rather me or Mingyu in a jaeger at two in the morning?”

“Point taken.” Both of you know the only person more miserable than you in the morning is Kim Mingyu. Jihoon nudges you with your elbow and gestures to the bacon. “Finish up. We have to workout soon.” 

“Ugh.”

He smirks. “Cardio day.”

“Ji, no.”

He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”

Now you know he’s doing it on purpose. There are few things in your training schedule that bring Jihoon joy like torturing you during scheduled workouts. He had started slating them each day, determined to harden your conditioning despite the fact that you’re already in decent shape.

Decent is a word in his vocabulary. He only expects perfection and even then, you’re pretty sure it’s unattainable. Still, you finish your breakfast and let him lead you to the gym, peppering him with whining and protests the entire way. He ignores them with a placid smile, hands linked behind his back as he walks. 

When you get to the gym, there are other pilots and workers using their free time to exercise. There’s only a single treadmill open, which Jihoon gets on easily. You start to edge your way toward yoga mats with the intention of not working out at all when he leans over to look at the time on the treadmill next to him. 

“You’ve been on it for an hour,” he grunts at some boy who looks like a cadet. “Off you go.”

The cadet scrambles off, almost forgetting to turn the treadmill off before he does. He bows in respect before shooting off like a frightened school of fish. Jihoon turns to you, grinning as he pats the machine. “For you.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpan. “Just what I’ve always wanted.” 

Jihoon’s grin only grows when you step onto the treadmill as he leans over the rail and turns it on, pressing the incline and speed buttons until you’re walking at a warm up pace. Which, for Jihoon, is a solid jog. 

As you jog, you fish out headphones from your pocket. You pop them in your ears, careful not to trip as the sound of classical fills your ears. You’ve taken to using Jihoon’s playlists, despite originally making fun of him for it. You find that it distracts you more than you thought it would, and it helps that you feel like a character in a fantasy movie running to an epic soundtrack.

You’ve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect. 

Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You don’t think you’re quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence. 

After your workout, you go through the same day you have everyday: meditate back to back, sparring, and your talking session, which mostly consists of you both sitting next to one another looking over your drop footage and noting areas for improvement. 

Jihoon’s shoulder is pressed against yours, his eyes focused on the tablet in your hands, tracking the slowed down movement of the video. He taps the screen, pointing to the right side of the jaeger that he pilots. “I was a bit slow here.” 

“It’s not your reaction time, you’d never punch that slow. That’s the arm that took damage two fights ago against Razorbill. Let’s talk to the J-Tech team and see if there’s a delay in the receptor. It might be a split second off.” He snorts and you glance sidelong at him. “What?”

“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”

“No.” 

Jihoon raises his brows. You can feel his surprise at your seriousness to his question. He obviously expected you to turn it into a harmless jab, but you mean it when you say, “Your reaction time has been perfect for the last sixteen drops you’ve made. If there’s a delay, it’s the machinery. Not you.”

He looks away from you, nodding once. The tips of his ears are red and he mutters, “Thanks.” 

Instead of pressing the matter like you want to, you smile and hit play again, both of you focusing on the screen once more to talk through the remainder of your allotted bonding time. 

In your room, Jihoon turns on the speakers, the sound of Pas de Deux from the Nutcracker floods the room. You pause by the wardrobe where you’re shucking your boots off, gazing at Jihoon as he moves into the kitchen silently, taking out two mugs, a box of peppermint tea and a kettle. 

He doesn’t feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you don’t know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you don’t know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds. 

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You turn away from him, busying yourself with your boots to spare him from making an excuse as to why he’s making you tea. Because you’ll know he’ll give one, provide you with some sort of excuse that it isn’t a favor or because you’re friends, but rather something like the tea bags are too large for one or I have to boil the water anyway. 

When you’re done changing for bed, he’s standing next to you, mug extended. He doesn’t look at you, instead finding interest in the cameras outside the Shatterdome. You take the mug from him and say nothing, knowing he’d rather you not thank him. 

Mug in hand, you climb carefully into the top bunk, crossing your legs as you nestle the mug next to you, pulling out your tablet to read. He gets into bed without a word, both of you existing in comfortable silence, just like Jihoon prefers. 

-

Alarms wrench you from sleep. You’re thrown forward in your bed, red flashing on the TV as the kaiju alert system wails. You wipe sleep from your face as you haul yourself over the edge of the bunk, landing next to Jihoon who is pulling off his sweats in favor of cargo pants as quickly as he can. You feel dizzy and off balance as you do the same, shoving one foot in your pants and hopping on one leg as your foot catches while trying to shove in the other.

Jihoon grabs you by the elbow, holding you steady as you shove your foot through the leg of your pants and shoot him a grateful look. He nods, letting you go to finish zipping his pants and digging around for a shirt. He can’t seem to find one, cursing under his breath as he roots around. You toss him one of yours instead, grabbing a pair of socks and throwing yourself onto his bunk to yank them on, quickly followed by shoes. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon mutters as he looks up at the screen, the red painting him in hellish light. “We’ve got a Cat-4. They’re dropping Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker with us.” 

“Dino and Wylie weren’t even on rotation.” 

“They’re not making the same mistake they did with Solar Saber.” He pulls out a tablet, squinting against the glow. “We're the last line of defense. Hao and Jun will take point with Fang Striker.” 

“Got it. Let’s go.”

You take off at a jog, easily keeping pace with one another as you go. There are jaeger teams moving about the building getting ready, the alarms still sounding as you navigate to the jaeger bay. Your team is already there and ready to fit you into Drivesuits, sliding each piece of armor on with practiced care. 

Jihoon catches your eyes from where he stands across from you, letting a team member slide his hand into a metal glove. His eyes are dark as the stormy sea outside, a bottomless well that you can’t seem to dive down into, but want to. His lips twitch a little and he gives you a nod, which you’ve come to understand is Jihoon for I trust you. 

Screens blink to life as you enter the Conn-Pod. Closing the front shield of your helmet, you immediately turn on open comms, listening as the Marshall and LOCCENT Controller on duty - you think it’s Nainsi - talking Minghao and Junhui through their neural handshake. 

The spine of your Drivesuit connects to the Conn-pod, your heads up display coming to life. You feel the metal whirring and clicking into place, rotating your shoulders and flexing your fingers as your jaeger team finishes connecting Jihoon to the Conn-pod before exciting and shutting the door firmly.

“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces. 

“Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence,” Nainsi answers. “Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”

It’s like jumping off a cliff into freezing cold water. You feel the flash of cold, vision going white for a split second before you feel Jihoon’s calm flow through you. He’s steady like an icy river, his thoughts, feelings and emotions hidden down in their dark depth where they can’t bother either of you.

You’re like rapids, rushing thoughts and feelings, pouring everything through the drift at him. He takes it in stride, used to the white-capped rush of information he gets from you each time you connect. Jihoon adjusts easily, already hitting buttons on his screen as images from your day flash through your mind - including you watching him make you tea in the kitchen.

Jihoon says nothing about that. He says nothing about the gentle wave of your embarrassment either as Nainsi says, “Neural handshake strong and holding.”

Chan’s voice crackles through comms. “Fang Striker on standby for neural handshake.”

“Copy. Storm Breaker prepare for drop in three… two… one.”

Dropping feels like falling through the core of the earth. For a few moments, it’s a flightless feeling as you fall through the Shatterdome. Then you land, knees absorbing impact as the head of the jaeger falls into the neck socket, locking in.

“Calibrating right side,” Jihoon announces. “Calibrated.”

“Calibrating left side. Calibrated. Ready to engage.” 

Nainsi confirms calibration and directs, “Storm Breaker, take north point defense two miles from the shoreline. Hold that line. Fang Striker, engaging in pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence in three… two… one.” 

You tune out the rest of Fang Striker’s drop as you and Jihoon behind to charge into the bay. The windshield in front of you immediately froths with sea salt and wind, battering down on the jaeger as the night sea surges against Storm Breaker’s legs. You cut through the water like a knife, carving your way toward the defense line as the jumphawk team flies into place. 

“Five minutes until surface breach.” 

“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp. 

“Sup?”

“Would kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?” 

Vernon groans. “Mood.” 

Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghao’s voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. “Blue, everytime I drop with you you’re talking about food.” 

“Have you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?” 

“So it’s Ji now, huh?”

“Don’t get her started,” Jihoon grunts at Minghao’s teasing. “One mile out from the line of defense.”

Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. “Fang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!” 

Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylie’s voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, “Be nice to him.” 

Everyone greets Chan after that. Jihoon shakes his head, amused. “Fang Striker, escort Emperor’s Mandate to engage. Four minutes until surface breach.” 

Black ocean ripples outward in front of Storm Breaker as you move. You near the defense line, the city lights like a sea of stars at Storm Breaker’s back. Air support circles overhead, monitoring kaiju activity and helping with positioning. You see the spotlights glinting on the surface, waiting for a kaiju to surface. 

To the east of your position, Fang Striker and Emperor’s Mandate cut through the water. Fang Striker’s red paint is violent against the night, but her build is small next to the towering white fury of Minghao and Junhui’s jaeger. 

“Storm Breaker in position,” Jihoon calls. You both stop moving, your jaeger coming to a standstill as the water sloshes around your waist. 

“Standby, Storm Breaker. Kaiju breach in one minute.” 

“Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker in position. Ready to engage.” 

“Engage at your discretion.” 

Comms go silent as the strike team waits for the kaiju to appear. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence pregnant with tension. You feel a tentative brush of Jihoon’s thoughts against you. You turn and glance at him, surprised. 

Jihoon is watching you with a stormy expression, thoughtful. “You thinking about letting me in that big ass head of yours?” You tease, just in your personal comms. 

He smirks and shakes his head, breaking eye contact to look out the front of Storm Breakers cockpit. “Not a chance.” 

It’s a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that he’s thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction. 

Your satisfaction only lasts a second as the kaiju breaches the surface in front of Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker. You watch in strained silence as the jumphawk team begins reporting what they can about the makeup of the kaiju.

Emperor’s Mandate engages immediately, their metal saber chain shooting from the right arm and punching through the shoulder of the kaiju. An electromagnetic pulse goes down the chain and it goes taught like a sword as Junhui slices upward, attempting to sever the kaiju’s arm. 

The kaiju lands a hard punch to Emperor’s Mandate in the middle, sending them backward into the ocean as the chain-turned-sword pulls out as they fall. Fang Striker is there before the kaiju can attack again, charging and tackling the kaiju at the waist. She’s not built for heavy fighting, but Chan and Wylie are vicious, clawing at the kaiju with their metal claws. 

“Fang Striker, roll!” Minghao orders. Fang Stricker does, using the kaiju as weight to rock themselves over and under the creature, vanishing beneath the water’s surface as Emperor’s Mandate lands a punch to the kaiju’s back with a plasmacaster, turning the night blue as the sparks flare. “Push and we’ll pull.”

Salt spray mists the windshield as you and Jihoon watch in silence. The kaiju is a massive, hulking beast with spikes down its spine and a nasty club tail that catches Fang Striker in the knees, taking her down. The two jaeger teams work in flawless tandem, punching when the other ducks, tackling with the other falls. 

In a way, it’s beautiful to watch the fury of what a jaeger can do. Your lips twitch upward as the fight starts to go their way, Emperor’s Mandate severing the leg of the monster as Fang Striker pounces on it, sinking both clawed hands into its shoulder blades and tearing through its hide. 

“Storm Breaker-” Vernon’s panicked voice gets cut off as your world turns upside down. 

You feel yourself slam against the restraints of the Conn-pod connecting you to the jaeger. A surprised shriek escapes you as you flip head-over-feet in Storm Breaker, crashing into the ocean with a violent slam. A kaiju raises itself from the water, rearing its head like a cobra as it shrieks, the sound shaking the entire hull. 

“What the fuck?” Jihoon screams over comms. Storm Breaker rolls as the kaiju strikes like a snake, barely missing you as it hits empty water. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“There was no reading!” Vernon yells back. “The signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!” 

“Kaiju don’t have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!”

“Maybe it got an iOS update man, I don’t know!” 

There’s no time to care about why or how a kaiju isn’t appearing on the reporting team’s screen. Whatever level it is, it’s fast. You and Jihoon get to your feet just as it strikes again, fangs striking at the windshield. It doesn’t crack, but the sound of kaiju bone against the glass isn’t promising.

Storm Breaker stumbles back a few steps before regaining footing. You both strike with your right fist, slamming into the neck area of the beast as it winds up to strike again. It looks like a massive cobra, coils and coils of kaiju body gathering each time it tries. 

A shudder vibrates through the jaeger as the punch lands, sending the kaiju back several hundred yards. You don’t give it a moment to recover, both of you charging as you equip short swords perfect for close-combat fighting and slicing. 

“I think it’s too fast to pick up a reading,” you shout over comms. “It moves so quickly!”

Fighting is a careful rhythm. You and Jihoon find it immediately, tuning out the sound of the other fight as you zero in on your target. It doesn’t matter that the kaiju took you by surprise, it doesn’t matter that Jihoon still hasn’t let you in, it doesn’t matter that somewhere, you have other friends in just as much danger.

What matters is this. The feeling of rage that flows from Jihoon - or maybe it’s you - as you both savagely plunge a sword in the serpent body of your enemy. What matters is the way you and Jihoon flow, two rivers with the same curves and dips, sliding around the kaiju as you strike again, spraying ichor into the sea. 

Storm Breaker’s sword extends from the right arm, reflecting the city lights briefly before you cut sideways. The blade slides clean through like a knife through paper. You and Jihoon both scream savagely in unison as the head flies separate from the body, sailing in the air for a moment before crashing into the surface as blood spurts from the main body. 

It flails for a moment longer before crashing under ocean froth and water. Victory surges through you and you look across the Conn-pod where Jihoon is grinning at you, stars in his eyes. You feel a moment of elation, laughter bubbling to your lips as Nainsi recalls you to the Dome, Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker standing victorious.

“That’s kill number six?” Jihoon asks, voice delighted. “We’re on a fucking roll.” 

“I guess I’m not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?” He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. “Come on, Ji. Tell me I’m a good co-pilot.”

“No way.”

“Come onnnn.”

He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, “Can I show you instead?” 

The left foot of Storm Breaker is yanked from under you. You go down screaming, feeling the impact of the seafloor as you go down in the shallows hard. Pain shoots up your left arm as you slam against the restraints keeping you attached to the Conn-pod. Lights flash in your heads up display and a sensor starts going off, the left arm of the jaeger going dead as it loses connection. 

Jihoon is screaming your name over comms as you grit your teeth, and gather your bearings. You suck in a sharp breath as you both scramble to get Storm Breaker on her feet. “Left arms gone cold,” Jihoon yells over comms. You manage to get Storm Breaker to her feet as you both throw out your right arm, bracing for impact as the kaiju’s head strikes again. “It grew back two fucking heads!” 

“Fang Striker pursuing!” It’s Chan voice over the comms. “Three miles out from contact.” 

One of the heads strikes at the helm again, knocking into Storm Breaker hard. Your world rocks as you shove with the full force of the right side of the jaeger, thrusters turning on as you launch the kaiju and its twin heads backward. 

“How the fuck do we kill this thing?” you screech, charging toward the creature as it slides through the water, coiling to strike again. “If we cut off its head again, it’s just going to grow another.”

“Stab it through the head? I don’t fucking know!”

Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize it’s not, Jihoon’s feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoon’s worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you don’t lift yours. 

Storm Breaker stalls, filled with mechanic screeching as the two of you clash in the drift in a moment of indecision. A storm of emotions batters down on you. Your lungs squeeze as you feel yourself torn away from the fight and into Jihoon’s memories, each one flitting by so fast you can barely resonate with them. 

A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoon’s scars. 

“... out of alignment!” 

Words crash through you as you feel a tremor go through Storm Breaker. Jihoon’s thoughts are like a hurricane tearing at your foundation. 

Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when he’s reassigned to a new pilot. 

Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoon’s emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent.

Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls. 

“Emperor’s Mandate two miles out. Preparing to engage!” 

Bitter coffee. Celebrating Haneul’s birthday. The sting of Chan biting him mid spar. Pretending he didn’t hate his childhood. Hiding the scared little boy behind a controlled exterior. 

“She’s chasing the rabbit!” 

Chasing the rabbit. You hear the word and vaguely realize you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Jihoon’s memories and emotions, completely unused to them in a space where you’re connected intimately. You try to gather your bearings, shutting down the images flashing across your mind that don’t belong to you as Storm Breaker gets rocked again. 

“Shit,” Jihoon swears. “Blue, come on. Come back to me. I’m sorry. Don’t chase my memories!”

A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year. 

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. “Come back.”

You can do this. You can withstand the storm of Jihoon’s consciousness. You shake him out of your head, sorting out your thoughts and his. It’s nearly impossible to understand where you end and he begins, but you manage to hold back the wake of his uncontrolled consciousness.

Blinking, you come back to the present. There are lights and warnings going off as Storm Breaker takes another strike from the kaiju. Fang Striker is taking on its other head, the kaiju splitting focus between two jaeger teams as it tries to split open the top of your jaeger. Wylie and Chan are yelling in comms and Emperor’s Mandate is in pursuit to help you disengage. 

The left arm of your jaeger is still cold, totally disconnected from the rest of the machinery. You run through a list of fighting options with one arm down. The right side of the jaeger is fitted with a sword, explosive and a plasma caster in the first of the hand. But the jaeger overall- 

“Light it up,” you tell Jihoon. His relief crashing into you like a tidal wave. He understands what you want to do immediately. You feel his agreement rather than see it as you both start to tap controls on your control panels. “Fang Striker, prepare for lighting strike!” 

“Fry this motherfucker!” Wylie screams. “I fucking hate snakes!”

The nuclear reactor at the core of your jaeger starts to charge. From the top down, your jaeger begins to power down, lights flickering out and screens going dead. Your heart hammers as the kaiju slams into the head of the jaeger over and over again, trying to crack the helm wide open. Storm Breaker takes the savage blows as all but the nuclear core shuts off.

A low hum begins to sound at the heart of the machine. You feel the vibration tingle in your spine as all of the energy flow focuses in the center of the jaeger, slowly charging and pulling electricity from everywhere else. It’s a slow process, the kaiju beating down on you as the core winds up. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon swears at a particularly harsh strike. “This fucking bitch!”

“We’ve got it,” you tell him. You look across the Conn-pod at him, his face pale behind the shield of his helmet. “She’s not going to break, Ji.” 

You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought he’s ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didn’t dislike you at all - it’s all there for you to see. His soul laid bare. 

“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!” 

Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder. 

Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.

You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes. 

Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”

-

Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry. 

“So she’ll be okay?” he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. “You’re sure it’s not broken? It better not be broken.”

“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”

“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”

He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think. 

Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.

Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.

He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine. 

“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”

“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”

“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”

He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.” 

Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot. 

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”

His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.” 

Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry. 

You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.

Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. He’s brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.

One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat. 

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.” 

“So crumble.” 

“Fuck.”

Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you. 

Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs. 

Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head. 

He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.

“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.

“Mmmf - difficult.”

This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.

Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest. 

“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.” 

Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.” 

So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there. 

“Having a hard time?”

“Jihoon.”

One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue. 

“Jihoon.” 

He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently. 

Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest. 

“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.” 

He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again. 

“Try now,” he pants. 

His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking. 

You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug. 

A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.

He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear. 

“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.” 

His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real. 

The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace. 

When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically. 

You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.

Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm. 

He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”

It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.

Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.

Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy. 

“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.” 

“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.” 

“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.” 

“How stupid of you.”

Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in. 

His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt. 

Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight. 

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”

Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.” 

Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you. 

His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.

“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless. 

Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong. 

His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy. 

“Oh shit,” you wheeze. 

He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath. 

His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”

“So come again.” 

You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips. 

Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard. 

He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.

With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.

Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders. 

“Thank you.” 

You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”

“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I hope so. I want to be.” 

With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.

“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?” 

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.” 

“Come on, we’re showering.” 

“No way, I am not moving right now.”

“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”

“Ji,” you whine. 

He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.” 

TAG LIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @kwonshiho @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @Burnt-horizons @Ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @fxckinbreathe @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[deer-diary-from-hell]

Redesigned all of the Dandy world (+my take on the game)

”But Liam/deer didn’t you alr posted these-“

you didn’t see anything.

HEADCANONING TIME WWOOOOO

I like to think that ALMOST all of the toons just think they’re just playing a game of tag while collecting ichor like it’s a “capture the flag” thing. It’s in their blood (or ichor) to just be a bunch of childish and playful creatures, they are MADE for kids so it’s not really out of character of them to NOT think that twisteds are dangerous let alone kill them which cause them to see things differently (literally)

(still talking about this👆) If you start the game at first it’s all bright and colorful like something you would see out of a kid’s show, there’s happy music playing in the background all fun and games! Until you get hit by a twisted and lose a heart. Thats when the reality kicks in. Music stops as the colors slowly go back to the sad reality of an abandoned studio/daycare. These twisteds weren’t playing.. they were trying to kill you. This effect is irreversible even if you go back to full health. The shine in their eyes are gone. They aren’t laughing anymore, this isn’t funny. They’re scared.

(Note to self, each toon will have a traumatized look on their face after getting injured and will stay traumatized even after being healed+also applies to a toon when they witness a death of another toon)

I like to think that the twisted are like a “Failed” version of a toon, a toon that wasn’t the exact replica of itself so, it was locked away in the underground as it contorts into it’s biggest flaw(s) might design the twisteds if I feel like it.

If a toon witnessed another toon getting hit they’ll still be oblivious but concerned for their fellow friend

The twisteds prob growls and snarls due to their throats being filled with nothing but ichor, constantly leaking from their mouths as they try to kill you out of jealousy that YOU don’t get to be thrown away like a broken toy and instead cherished by children while they were called a mistake and now you’re going to experience the same pain they went through.

on a lighter note, the toons stole the clothes they’re wearing from the lost and found shortly after being abandoned and threw away their old clothes.

dandy needs those tapes so he doesn’t turn into a twisted. He wants to protect his friends from himself.

Ichor while being dangerous can be used to bring back a dead toon, only dandy knows this. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the toon doesn’t remember how they died after being revived

All toons are asexual. (Gets booed off the stage)

Do you think toons are desperate for interactions after being abandoned for god knows how long.

Astro, Vee and Shelly are the ones who don’t have the “fake reality” sight going on and knows that they’re actually in danger although for Shelly she’s sorta in denial (and ig Teagan and Rodger too? But the both of them just thinks that the twisteds aren’t really that dangerous and thought they wont kill their fellow toons)

might add more hcs soon but prob in later posts

Guys please ask for hcs for any toons you like please I’m begging on my knees I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the End - Post-Apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - One knot down, three more to go

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. SMUT, dub-con, fingering knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader

Get it early next time

Masterlist

Kyle looks shocked for only a moment before he settles between your legs, your slick cunt still pulsing around nothing as your heat forces your orgasm to prolong itself, seeking a knot that only he could give you at this moment. You reach out and grab onto his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it with shaky hands. He puts his hands over yours and helps you unbuckle it then unbutton his pants. His straining cock finally getting a little bit of relief as he pulls his pants down. Your mouth waters at the sight of the tent in his boxers and you palm the hardened cock eliciting a hiss from Kyle as pleasure shoots up his spine.

He takes your hand and pushes it away before he pulls down his boxers at long last. Much like the rest of him, his cock is unfairly attractive. Uncut and leaking precum from just the small touch you gave it, girthy and long but not too much of either. You prop yourself up on your elbows, prepared to move and take it in your mouth when he slips two fingers back into your cunt. You gasp out, dropping back down onto your back, “Good omega,” he purrs as he adds a third finger and resumes pumping them in and out of you while you gasp and moan whenever the heel of his hand grinds against your clit.

“Kyle,” you moan and he groans through gritted teeth, “please Kyle,” you beg a little hysterically. “Please fuck me, please?”

“Fuck-” Kyle curses as he removes his slick covered fingers from your and coats his cock in your arousal. “Needy,” Kyle mutters teasingly as he leans over you, blocking your view of the others completely which makes your inner omega whine for some reason. “Don’t worry pretty omega, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs in your ear as he teasingly grinds his cock up against your clit sending little shockwaves of pleasure through you.

Finally he notches the head of his cock as your entrance before he says through gritted teeth to the one of the others called Price who you can’t see, “Stop me if I try to mark, we’re not to mark until the heat is over,” he says and one of them rumbles their agreement. Finally, finally, he pushes in and the stretch is like nothing you’ve experienced before. His body heat warms you as he pushes further into you and just when you think you can’t take anymore he bottoms out with a groan and his head on your shoulder. “Fuck,” he drawls out, “you’re so tight.”

You whine and wiggle your hips, your body easily adapting to the girth of him thanks to your heat making you more pliable. He grabs a pillow from the nest and situates it under your hips to keep you fully connected to him as he sits back and looks down at you through his own haze induced by your scent. Finally you can see the three others again, the one with a skull balaclava stares right into your eyes sending a shiver down your spine and the one with a boonie hat on looks ready to tear you apart and put you back together again.

And you can’t see the other one which makes you whine. You can sense the bond between all of them and want to see all of them as well. You want them to watch as their pack mate takes your first with them.

“Where's the Scottish one?” You ask quietly and Kyle chuckles as the Scottish one pushes forward between the other two and you relax even more into your nest, turning into something more like putty. “There you are,” you murmur before gasping when Kyle slides out and then back into you.

He leans back over you, trapping you and restricting your view of the others. Not that it would have mattered as he takes your chin between his hand and forces you to look at him as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace. Pulling out and then pushing back in just as slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours to catch your clit and make you clench down on him. “Focus on me love,” he coos but you can feel the command of an alpha in his voice. Your eyes snap to his pretty brown ones and he picks up the pace, leaving you gasping and moaning, one hand clawing at his shoulder and the other at his arm. “Yeah, does that feel good? Just needed some good cock and you’re all soft for me,” he mutters and you bare your teeth in retaliation, wishing his arm were closer so you could bite it.

“There you are,” he whispers and leans down a little further, his pace never faltering as he captures your lips with his. The sound of skin on skin fills the cellar, mixing with your moans and occasionally his own groans. You open your mouth and when he does the same you lick in to taste him on your tongue. His tongue entangles with yours as you both taste each other for the first time. Your nails leave claw marks and indents in his skin as he fucks into you and finally one of his hands reaches and starts to play with your clit.

Electricity shoots up your spine and you jolt underneath his touch making him chuckle. He pins you down with his weight as he circles your clit while fucking you unmercifully. You gasp and writhe underneath him, moaning each time he bottoms out in your again all while a tightness builds within you. You start to panic at the thought of not being knotted by him and begs between moans, “Please Kyle,” you moan and he nods.

“Yeah? Yeah, what is it love?” He asks with a knowing smile, barely containing his own throaty groans.

“Please knot me, please please please. I need it. I need it so bad,” you babble as you grow closer to your own earth shaking orgasm.

“Yeah? Want me to knot you love? Want me to pump you full and make sure you give us some pups?” And you nod to each of his questions, willing to agree to anything for his knot. Then you feel it, the start of his knot as he pauses, already caught inside of you. Instead he grinds up into you, circling your clit more urgently and dragging up whatever slick dripped out of you then back up to your hardened pearl.

Your legs grow tense as the tightness within you finally snaps and releases. You cry out at the pleasure slams in you, leaving you twitching as his cum fills you up with a warmth you haven’t had since the world ended and even before then. He groans as he goes still, your cunt clenching down on him even tighter ensuring he wouldn’t have been able to pull out even if he wasn’t knotted in you.

After a long while his knot finally deflates and when he pulls out a dribble of cum follows. He presses a kiss to your temple, seeing your eyes closed and assuming you had fallen asleep. As he pulls up boxers and pants back up he hears the rustle of sheets and looks behind him to see yourself presenting perfectly towards the other three men. Price steps forward and feels your ass appreciatively. “All this for me dove?” He asks and you nod your head quickly. “Want me to fuck this pretty cunt? Want me to knot it like Kyle did?”

“Yes!” You cry out as he pushes a finger into you.

“Names John, dove. I want to hear you scream it while I fuck you.”

[lomlhwa]

intern (ot8) [volume three]

pairing: free use intern!reader x office workers!ateez

preview: getting this type of job feels so wrong. but you need money and hey, they're all hot.

tags/warnings: fem!reader, free use, perv!ateez, monster cocks for all of ateez i fear, it's pretty much all dom!ateez but woosan do like to beg to cum so do with that what you will, ties as restraints, hair pulling, spit kink, spanking (with hands and belts), degrading, praise, pet names (slut, whore, cumdump, doll, baby, princess), throat/stomach bulge, sometimes it's one at a time and sometimes it's five, voyeurism, hand jobs, oral (f+m receiving), vibrator torture, crying, anal, two cocks in one hole who cheered, so many creampies [these are general tags for all parts, not all of these will be in every part]

trigger warnings: if i forgot tags, don't kill me

wc: 3.0k

song recs for this fic: moonstruck by enhypen

a/n: woosan girlies be gentle when knocking my door down

previous - next

san carries you out of the lunch room, strutting straight over to your desk. he acts like your weight is nothing more than that of a cat who has decided to sit on his shoulder. he plops you down onto your comfy office chair (the one you had yet to sit in) and you land with a small “hmf.” you look up at san as he admires you, running his tongue over his teeth. wooyoung appears suddenly behind you, basically breathing down your neck. “don’t get too comfy, princess. i think san has something fun planned for you,” he looks up at san with a mischievous look, lust dripping from his smile. 

you have gone through so many different positions in one day that honestly, nothing would surprise you anymore. well, except the fact that you’re learning right now that your chair reclines all the way back like a bed. san drops to his knees and places your legs on his shoulders. he shoves your skirt up so it rests on your waist all bunched up. wooyoung grabs your chin and forces you to look at him towering over you. “sannie is gonna eat your pretty pussy until you can’t remember what day it is. i’m gonna fill your tight throat to the brim until you forget your name. how does that sound?” you don’t even know how to respond to such dirty words leaving such a pretty mouth.

“your speechlessness is full of excitement, so i’m gonna just assume you’re dripping right now. is that about right, san?” wooyoung asks, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of your sopping core. san groans, drinking in the way that your body twitches. “i’ll take that as a yes. do you wanna know what else we’re gonna do to you?” wooyoung says as san connects his tongue to the skin of your inner thigh. you shudder and nod, wooyoung’s grin growing wider. 

“we’re gonna get you on the floor and get you spread wide open,” san says as he trails his tongue higher. “san’s gonna fill you up with his fat cock that has been begging for your hole all day,” wooyoung adds in a whiny tone as san kisses your other thigh, and you whimper. “and i’m gonna reward you with extra stimulation by treating your puffy clit like a lollipop.” wooyoung concludes as san finally connects his tongue to your core and your whole body jerks. your hands race to grab something, or rather someone, since you ended up gripping wooyoung’s thighs like a vice. 

wooyoung looks down at you with fake pity before wrestling with his belt and dress pants. he drops them to the floor and smirks at you. “open wide, make me feel good like a well behaved whore,” he demands. you obey immediately, your throat welcoming him as he slides past your lips. your head upside down makes for a smooth entrance for wooyoung’s long cock. he lets out a small whine as he watches the bulge of his dick appear in your throat. he gets harder, if possible, watching the bulge move in and out. “o-oh fuck, it’s like your throat was m-made for my cock,” wooyoung’s whole body shakes slightly in reaction. “wooyo, you’re so talkative today,” you hear from a deep voice across the room. mingi. this is the first time you’ve ever heard him speak. 

wooyoung chuckles at his comment. “judging by the way her hips jerk every time i open my mouth, i think she prefers a talkative man. don’t you, my little cumdump?” you attempt at garbling a small ‘yes’ in response but wooyoung is completely blocking your airway. “fair enough. what the whore wants, the whore gets,” mingi replies before going back to typing away at his desk. wooyoung leans down a little to wrap both hands around your throat to feel the way the bulge moves. san and wooyoung act in sync; wooyoung pushes into your throat and san licks a stripe up your core. the whole ordeal is positively mind-numbing. 

san dips his middle and ring fingers into your wet heat, scissoring them to spread you out. you roll your eyes back and cough around wooyoung, your legs beginning to shake. wooyoung whines and whimpers as he uses your throat, catching his lip between his teeth and looking at you with teary eyes. “ah fuck, san, i’m gonna cum,” wooyoung announces and san pulls away from your core to glare at him. “if she can hold it when instructed, so can you. you’re not done until i say you are. the pretty baby gets to cum before you do,” san says in a firm tone. you hear a high pitched whimper leave wooyoung’s throat as his cock twitches in your throat. you can feel just how close to his peak he is and you really can’t tell if he’s gonna be able to hold it. 

san reconnects his mouth to your core and devours you like you’re the last meal he’s ever going to have. your legs shake and spasm around his head, encouraging him to bring you closer to the edge. your back arches as san adds a third finger into your core, digging at the gummy spot inside you. you move your hands from wooyoung’s thighs to san’s hair. your fingers wrap around his black locks, pulling his head further between your legs. you hear a low chuckle from san as your movements become more desperate, rutting your hips against his face to get more friction. 

“san, fuck, i seriously c-can’t hold it much longer,” wooyoung says again. he had stopped abusing your throat and had begun slowly rocking his hips back and forth to try and savour his close orgasm building. you give san’s hair a harsh tug to tell him you’re about to cum and he gives you a nod. “i can’t deny the pretty girl anymore. i want both of you to cum,” san says in a demanding tone. you whole body fills with lighting as you reach your orgasm, pleasure making your vision go white. wooyoung fills your throat at almost the exact same moment, causing you to cough up a mix of semen and saliva. 

wooyoung pulls out of your mouth and san pulls your head by your neck to kiss you. the saliva swapped between you is full of a mix of your release and wooyoung’s. san lifts you up off your chair and places you on all fours, your knees still sore from being like this for yeosang and jongho. you feel wooyoung run his fingers over your slit, collecting remnants of your release, before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. “god, you taste like heaven. i could eat you forever,” he comments as your whole body shudders. you hear the sound of san’s pants and belt hitting the floor, signaling to you that you’re not going to be empty for much longer. 

wooyoung grabs your chin and tilts your head to make you look at him. his hair falls over his eyes and sticks to his face so beautifully that even just his gaze has you clenching. “you remember what i said we’d do?” he asks, and you nod expectantly. “good girl. i’m gonna leave you alone with san for a bit so he can really enjoy you. i promise i’ll come back soon,” he says before kissing your forehead and wandering away. where the hell was he going? you had no time to consider options before san used one hand to spread you open and align the tip of his cock with your entrance.

you gasp at the sudden contact, turning slightly to stare at him. he had completely unbuttoned his white dress shirt, leaving his defined muscle completely exposed. parts of his shirt were becoming see-through from the sweat dripping down his body. his arms flexed as one hand gripped your waist and the other guided his cock into you. his eyelashes fluttered and his face contorted into the most blissful look as he bottomed out. his appearance alone was making you clench around him like a vice.

you lower yourself down from your hands onto your elbows, arching your back even more. san ghosts his fingers down your spine, goosebumps appearing in his wake. he enjoys the feeling of you clenching and unclenching around him for a while before pulling out to the tip and slamming back in. his actions send your whole body jolting forward, your eyes rolling back into your head. your fingers scratch at the floor, trying to find something to grip onto, and finding nothing. 

san starts slowly grinding into you, his strokes slow and deep. the feeling is mind-numbing. you can feel every inch of him rubbing against the sweetest part of you. you hear some shuffling behind you and you turn your head to find that san has completely taken his shirt off, his honey golden skin covered in a sheen of sweat. he has discarded his shirt a few feet away, his focus returning to you. he places both hands on your waist, pulling your hips to his in tandem with his thrusts. 

“you're too quiet, make some pretty noises, my angel,” san demands, landing a harsh smack to your ass. you squeal, your body shuddering. “there you go. so fucking beautiful.” he begins to thrust more intensely, more sounds leaving your throat. he was so far in you that you were convinced he was kissing your cervix. 

you reach one arm behind you to grip his forearm, your nails digging into the harshly flexed muscle. “looks like someone's enjoying herself,” you hear wooyoung finally speak. he had finally returned from god knows where. wooyoung sits cross-legged on the floor in front of you, lifting your head to look at him. he leans down to kiss you, passion and aggression filling his movements. you bite and suck on his bottom lip as his tongue darts out to catch yours.

he tangles his hand in your hair, pulling your head to follow his movements. he whines against your mouth, his cock throbbing in his pants. wooyoung pulls away from your mouth, his eyes darting up to look at san. “san, do you think she's earned what i promised?” you look back at san in a frenzy, your eyes begging him to say yes. you'd been well behaved and done everything he wanted. san smiles at you, his perfect eyes disappearing into crescents.

“i think she deserves it. she's been such a good fucking girl, haven't you sweetheart?” san taunts you, leaning over you to stroke your hair. you nod excitedly, raising yourself back onto your palms so wooyoung could slide under you. wooyoung’s pupils are blown as he watches you get ready for him. “oh, so eager. what a dirty girl,” he drops to the floor and lays on his back before sliding underneath you. he comes face to face with your already filled core, a soft moan leaving his mouth at the sight. 

san begins his slow movements in and out of you once again, your arms already shaking from holding yourself up. wooyoung runs his hands up your thighs, and you shudder at the feeling. he ghosts his fingers over your clit, his fingers brushing san’s cock as it moves inside of you. “i’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you being pleasured, slut,” wooyoung comments as he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your thigh. you squeal, the surge of pain that shoots through your body shocking you a little. “the bulge of san’s cock in your stomach could make me cum just looking at it,” he runs his hand over the part of your stomach that is protruding, san lets out a shaky breath behind you. “fuck, don’t talk about it, i’ll cum.”

wooyoung slowly moves his mouth from the skin of your inner thigh towards your core. he gives your clit kitten licks, your jaw falling open in a silent moan. san speeds up his thrusts, drawing your hips back against his to match his pace. wooyoung wraps his pretty, puffy lips around your clit, sucking on it. wooyoung moves his hands to your waist, holding your body up for you. “come on baby, you know you want my cock back in your mouth,” wooyoung pulls away from your core and waits for you to do what he wants. 

your hands fiddle with the button on his pants, pulling at them urgently once you get it open. he lifts his hips off the floor so you can help him tug his clothes off. you get them off just enough to get access to his leaking cock, wrapping your hands around it immediately. your hands move quickly, wooyoung whining under you. “s-slow down, it’s s-still sensitive,” he whines, you ignore his comment. his hips buck up into your hands, seeking more pleasure despite his pleas for you to slow down. he matches your energy by wrapping his lips around your clit again, sucking and licking at it with intense vigor.

wooyoung wraps hair arms around your hips, holding onto you for dear life. “wooyo, i need to fuck her harder,” san says, sounding out of breath. “she’s a slut, so we have to treat her as such.” san’s face contorts into a sinister grin before drawing his hips back and slamming into you. his thrusts are sloppy and desperate for pleasure. wooyoung teases your already full hole with his fingers. “can you take some more, baby? your desperate little hole is desperate to be stretched,” he teases you. you tug on his cock harder in response, a small squeal leaving his throat. “i’ll take that as a yes,” he retorts before shoving a finger in to follow san’s movements.

you squeeze the base of wooyoung’s cock as he thrusts his finger inside you. “fuck, wooyo, be gentle,” you beg, the stretch burning between your legs. “aww poor baby. you didn’t listen when wooyoung told you to be nice, so why should he listen to you?” san smacks your ass a few times in a row, your skin turning red. “add another finger, wooyoung. it’s what she deserves.” wooyoung wiggles another finger into your hole, your whole body trembling. “it’s good that you’re stretching her out now, she’s gonna need it for us,” mingi raises his hand for a hi-five from yunho and finds him glaring at him. “don’t be so vulgar,” yunho comments before going back to his work. “says you?” mingi responds before huffing and crossing his arms. 

you hear san chuckle behind you, finding the interaction to be amusing. san regains his composure and begins thrusting into you like a wild animal. wooyoung scissors his fingers inside you, stretching you out even more than you already were. you do your best to tug on his cock while he adds to your pleasure, but your mind is so foggy that you can barely even remember to breathe. you take small gasps of air every few seconds when your brain decides to work. 

suddenly, your whole body ignites when wooyoung wraps his pretty lips around your clit again, sucking harder than before, and desperately licking at you to taste you more. “remember how you came for yeosang and jongho? do it again. i know wooyoung wants to drown in you,” san squeezes your hips to give his statement that extra umph. wooyoung responds with a high pitched ‘mhm’ his tongue darting out over your folds in a frenzy. your hands move up and down on wooyoung’s dick faster, wanting to get a release out of him too. “okay, keep going, i-i’m so close,” you say, despite being out of breath.

as if they had spoken to each other telepathically, san and wooyoung focus all of their energy on getting you off. you slap the floor beside wooyoung’s thigh repeatedly, the pleasure making your body move uncontrollably. wooyoung digs his nails into your thigh, moaning and whimpering louder under you. “wooyo, honey, please cum with me,” you say breathlessly and his hips jerk in response. finally, you let the chord in your abdomen snap, san pulling out of you to let your release splash out of you. his jaw falls slack, watching you writhe in pleasure, while wooyoung drinks up your release. he finishes in your hand swiftly after, coating your hand in his cum. 

without warning, san shoves back into you, his thrusts fast and sharp. “let me fill you up, baby. i wanna see my cum dripping out of your perfect cunt,” wooyoung slides out from under you to observe the end of your pleasurable ordeal. san leans over you to whisper sweet praises in your ear. “you’re so pretty. so, so good to me,” he kisses the shell of your ear gently. “nothing will ever feel better than you. fuck, your cunt was made for my cock,” you nod along to his words as you feel another, less intense orgasm building. “i can feel you clenching. do i make you feel so good that you wanna cum again? my cock slut, cum whenever you want. i’m almost there,” his cock twitches inside of you, leaking pre-cum all over your walls. 

“please, cum with me, pretty baby,” he pleads and you can’t help but obey. he fills you up so perfectly, and you cling to him for dear life. you hear some shuffling around behind you as san pulls out and goes to collect his shirt. you collapse onto the floor, completely worn out. you press your cheek to the cold floor, your whole body feeling sore and spent. you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“don’t get comfy. we’ve been waiting.”

© lomlhwa 2024

taglist:

@nopension @cursedeastern @certifiedmoa @tunafishyfishylike @4ngel-f4ngzz @mingisdimple @anxiousskylar @sanhwalvr @querencieaz @vtyb23 @dawn-iscozy

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

The last drop in The Last Drop🍺✨

Here is my self indulging fic set in the Arcane series because I miss Vander a lot and I need to cope with the ending somehow -> Basically a fic where I add an og character (a little girl named Luna) who becomes Vander's fifth adopted child (shoutout to the single dad of the year)

Disclaimer: I haven't played LOL and english isn't my first language, so yeah, and oh I've got daddy issues (reason for which I'm writing this lol)

Mi main Masterlist: here!

Pre-Act 1.1

It's alright, little one

Luna liked Vander's hands. They made her feel safe. He made her feel safe

She's got us now

The Last Drop was a loud place, and Vander's kids were also loud, but Luna slowly begins to fit in within the chaos with her new family

You're not by yourself anymore, Lu

Luna has nightmares, but Vander will always be there for her. She just has to learn that.

I like being close to you

Luna likes to hang out behind the counter because she likes being close to Vander.

It's nice to make new friends

Luna meets Ekko for the first time.

We're having a game night!

When Vander realizes Luna is scared of thunderstorms, he thinks of something to help distract her from the next storm.

To protect something precious one must be willing to do anything

As Luna keeps Vander company while he cleans up for the night, an unexpected visitor arrives: a man with a long coat, black hair, and a scarred eye.

And I'll keep choosing you, every single day

Vander had been called many things in his life, but no one had ever said 'Dad' to him. Until now.

You're my family. Every single one of you.

Mylo, Vi and Claggor get frustrated because they are grounded for a week, and they get angry because Vander doesn't seem to get as angry with Powder and Luna when they do wrong. It's time for him to remind them that he doesn't have any favourites (this one follows directly the one shot/chapter before "And I'll keep choosing you, every single day").

This is somethin' special, kid

On a rare sunny day in the Lanes, all the kids go outside to have fun and play, but not Luna. She stays in the basement all day working on a super secret project that she reveals at the end of the day to her family.

Takes one to know one

Luna makes a new friend, except he isn't from the Lanes, but from Piltover. A boy named Seb.

... more to come!

Drabbles pre Act 1.1.

Told you sprinkles are important!

Vander, Powder and Luna bake Vi a birthday cake.

'Guess the tooth fairy knows her stuff

About a tooth fairy named Claggor.

He's so going to kill us

Luna tags along Vi and Claggor to complete an assignment for Vander, however, she loses them and ends up alone (scaring the sh*t out of her siblings and dad).

... more to come!

Act 1.1

I’ll still fight every day. For them.

Vander wakes up after being taken by Singed for his experiments.

... more to come!

If you have any requests or want to see something happen let me know! I do have a few things mapped out, but as this is a very self indulging fic, I'll probably don't follow a concrete order posting (maybe one day I post a one shot set when they were all kids and the next day one set in season 2, idk depends on the mood ig)

Tell me if you want to be tagged!

[krewekreep]

Baby Daddy Red Flags: Bleach Edition (😜🤍)

This one…this one for the sluts! 😭💕 I’m an old anime bitch like lemme get it out my system! (We gonna tag this #ToxicTalk lmaoo, this is a safe space)

(If you wanna know who we share 😒, I’ll add an asterisk or whatever. ((They still mine first 😂💝🫡)) (will update and repost with new additions, semi-live post)

***ICHIGO: Lemme get my baby daddy out the way. Biggest issues would be his availability before and after the kid. Probably got pregnant in a makeup sex situation anyway. Ichigo doesn’t seem to type to breakup but will say let’s break. Based on how selfless he is it also can be seen coming from him not being able to save his mom—so he may have a savior complex. It may seem valiant at first like “oh wow you became friends with Chad helping him with bullies? You became closer to Orihime (😒) after helping her grieve her brother? You’re such a good person!” Til you realize seniority is in place and when his friends call he drops whatever he is doing to go help. It’s been time, money, etc and increasingly his selflessness comes off as codependent. Like he can’t stop trying to make up for something that wasn’t his fault.

He will also randomly reserve to right to become reclusive. Not necessarily secretive but less energetic, talkative, or engaged. (You def realize your baby got some functional depression going on. Iykyk). Might not annoy you but the random times he doesn’t want to be touched or seemingly avoids you does hurt…but he sincerely comes back letting you know he was in a weird space etc.

Ichigo’s biggest yes or no is if you’ll be able to sometimes come second or third (likely til you marry and/or have kids with him.) His father and sisters are absolutely #1, his friends are #2, and his oath to the Soul Society and humanity at large is a consequence of him protecting the first two so that’s of course #3. See where I’m going? Even on your best days you might be upset he runs off to Rukia’s or Orihime’s aid. That he has to “save the world,”to save you too. Jealous types might really become frustrated with Ichigo. And tbh I don’t see him breaking out of his ways. He won’t see a need to because there’s real results of his good deeds in his life. He knows he’s saved lives, so he knows he can continue to—so will you be able to handle the fact his duty and mindset will be self sacrificing? I don’t know I think I’d tie him down with a baby and move on.

**KENPACHI: I fully accept and am attracted to his animalistic tendencies. I absolutely can admit that about myself 😭 but…realistically you’d def have to tell him he’s too rough during sessions. He’s grown up wayward, defensive, survival mode, stomach touching his back— during a time so seemingly historical and old who knows how bad the conditions of poverty were—most kids died if they simply weren’t rich and able to eat. Or turned to crime at extremely young ages or exploited….That’s just global history in real life. And the soul society is that much more complex and arduous. Kenpachi will be a man of few words but immense action. If you want someone who will open up even eventually that is not Kenpachi Zaraki. You will highly likely never know of his past because he will never say he is excruciatingly doing everything to never have to. And no, he won’t communicate ever if anything terrible is on his mind. Although kenpachi is coded as barbaric he really is just that protective—he’s as angry as he will be based solely upon someone’s proximity to him emotionally. You and Yaru will be so exclusively held in a regard he won’t even understand. Just the black hole of his awareness he’ll surpass anything to save y’all. He won’t speak on why Lady Unohana isn’t around anymore (new anime, manga lore). But again, when he ends up rough too many nights in a row you distance yourself from him. He can’t admit to you he disassociates and goes back to bad times. He can’t tell you your comfort and warmth makes him remember the times he needed it before—he doesn’t mean to hurt you but he lives for a fight. But he wants to stop making everything and everyone something to “conquer.” He’ll be a real deal handful and it will solely up to you to either tell him you can’t be with him until he figure shit out or you’ll stick beside him and work through it together. (In this case Yaru is the “kid” yall share, I see him being weary of birthing a child and being a dad in such a “visceral” way. Will have total abandonment trauma and just can’t see him getting over it completely to bring new life into a world he already sees the worst in tbh.) but in terms of “baby momma” treatment? Or your prioritized and protected best believe. 💕 he also will force you to learn combat cause you should be able to take care yourself too. Which might either be hot or burdensome. You’re gonna know how to fight. And tbh he might try to bring it into the bedroom on some weird let’s play fight shit so watch yourself. That’s a BIG MAN! 😭😂💕 “HA! Now that you know how do a few things why don’t you test it on me?” Big cheeky sneaky ass grin girl don’t fall for it!

BYAKUYA: This is the guy who will match your freak everywhere but in public. No PDA—actually don’t even look at him or try to talk to him in public…be professional. He will be joking with others and you’ll get upset saying “Hey! You let the other members of the society tease you?” And in private he’ll admit it’s just to keep up appearances and he hates it all. 😭 I think his biggest issue will be coming off fake or disingenuous or you’ll have a hard time sincerely seeing him cause he’ll be so different depending on where y’all are. People wouldn’t know he’s like a mom boyfriend who makes sure you eat, sleep, and keep up with yourself. Yes, he will absolutely unintentionally say something insulting like “This doesn’t suit you. Find something else.” And yes he will be very clearly on guard when in public. People will openly wonder why you’re with him tbh. Which will frustrate the both of you of which neither of you ever bring up to the other. Byakuya has lost a love before—he won’t talk about it ever. You MIGHT get something out of Rukia about it cause it was her sister but I doubt she’ll go super intimate about THEIR relationship cause she respects both his and her sister’s privacy. So you might be stuck on an eavesdropping side quest with Renji that amounts to nothing cause he’ll sense yall. He’ll be amused and somewhat touched you wanted to watch him work though. He’s usually the one keeping check or track of things so he’ll never say he likes that you peep on him and mind his business. You care about him and he knows he’s a bit unfair not allowing any PDA. But he so openly loved on Rukia’s sister he couldn’t help the shameful self imposed embarrassment once he had to walk the halls alone…Byakuya will be a very intentional, quiet lover. I doubt he’ll moan very much tbh unless he’s exhausted and allowing you to take care of him. Sometimes he’ll absolutely disappear all day into work. Other times he’ll be sure to direct his underlings to wait on you in his stead. He’s more manageable if you can accept his sometimes snarky, distant, super private ways. As a father he’ll be annoyingly big on exceptionalism and them being smart and talented. You’ll have to be sure he isn’t burdening your kid when you aren’t around. And you’ll have to be sure he doesn’t inadvertently impart his insensitive habits too. Likewise, you’ll ABSOLUTELY have to “deal or no deal” him about giving affection to your kid in public. You will absolutely have to go off and tell him it’s y’all or his image. And yeah now he’s holding both yall hands albeit defeated. 💕😭

AIZEN: Shit…girl (im black my “girl…” is gender neutral don’t be annoying 💕) you already know what it is. Yandare, selfish, self righteous, MEAN, EVIL…but fine and rich as fuck. 😔🫤 it will be a doozy to be with this one. You literally have to know and accept what you getting into bestie. I can’t even warn you, you know! 😭 but seriously if your an aizen bias you accept him as is 😭 psycho ass. So I wanna just write how’d he be as a baby daddy. Now not to get…too mature…but if you happened to be someone captured/kidnapped by him and pregnant…baby you is a victim! BUT ITS FANFIC SOOO if you were the captured baby momma that’s in his realm with him…well girl you in the realm lord you stuck. “Can I go to the human world?” “For what?” “Uh, sun?” “Humph what do you need sun for…” He’ll look down at your crying child and be like “Ugh okay whatever but Grimmjow is your chaperone.” And you won’t care cause Grimmjow lets you run off and live life. Which Aizen knows but the minute you aren’t overtly scared and submissive to him he’ll lose his weird sense of “power.” You’re man crazy bestie. He’s definitely someone you won’t talk back to until you’re a parent and equally going to advocate for your kid. He’ll realize and laugh to himself “Their not really submissive at all…little minx…” and hold you in completely new regard. “So you took me as is because you wanted to?” He’ll start thinking shit that confuses him and decide to randomly kill a grunt to distract himself like no he’s not gonna reflect into a better person. 😂 you’ll have everything you want cause you can’t go nowhere 😭. Mind you yes the sex is mind blowing so you sadly do take what positives are there…his eyes don’t fall sexually to anyone but you. His body doesn’t respond certain ways to anyone but you. And as you stand next to him more and more he’s leaning into you and your baby’s energy rather than tryna to overtake yall with his. Just don’t speak about the change and it’ll be fine. The minute you tease or openly acknowledge his becoming softer and less controlling you’ll ruin all the progress you made. Let him feel like he’s in control or whatever.

New Additions (1):

Hitsugaya: (adult of course) Hitsu will be a blend of Byakuya and Ichigo. The best aspects of him will be how attentive and actionable he is about his love for you. But — he will shy away from PDA and sometimes have moments of separated solitude. Unlike Byakuya, he will absolutely open up to PDA, just will never be the initiator of it. Maybe grab your hand at the end of the day to hurry back home or stare at you as long as he can while he observes your dutiful working. He’ll be shy always which keeps your love feeling young and refreshed. You’ll always be able to make him blush and unlike Ichigo, he’ll warm up to you imposing yourself on his alone time. He’ll be big on love making and planning when to have a child so it will be less spontaneous. He’ll have the baby registry and wishlists prepared, printed, and passed out to members of the Soul Society. He’ll enjoy trips to the human world to acquire new toys and trinkets for your baby.

As a baby daddy he’s almost too protective. You wonder what he’s been through as he’ll have a firm grip of your hips as you cradle your child. He’ll have a habit of looking at your baby and then between the both of you stunned at how he can see the perfect blend of your features on your child’s face. He’ll be very close to a simp honestly (which I’m a fan of) and be at your beck & call no matter the hour. Definitely the dad to tell you don’t worry about tending to the little one, keep resting cause he knows how tired you get. He’s honestly the perfect idea of a new father as he’ll be bumbling a bit but with so much to prove. I realize I kinda didn’t write red flags cause I truly see Hitsu adjusting to parenthood and a long term relationship the best. Only thing I can think is that he’ll be overtly willing to sacrifice himself for your family’s safety. So any massive issue in the Soul Society will make your heart sink a little because while he’s capable he’s been in enough life threatening predicaments to cause ample, appropriate worry. He’ll be hard to break out of working I think until your child starts schooling which could be frustrating cause he’ll overcompensate parenting in lieu of his work commitments. Overall, I think he’d be the baby daddy with the least to really worry about.

Renji: Oh lord— all tea, all shade this man will STRUGGLE. « What do you mean the baby is hungry AGAIN ? You just breastfed! WAIT DO NOT PULL YOUR TIT OUT IN PUBLIC WOMAN ! » He’ll have a hard time adjusting to your freedom as a breastfeeding mom for sure (if you choose to). Work ? What’s work? One thing you can count on is that he will absolutely commit to being a family man and even a stay at home dad. He’ll take all his PTO or even « quit » (basically will say don’t call me to help unless the Soul Society is about to die.) He will wait on you hand & foot because he can’t imagine how much your body and mind has gone through and the strength it takes to be so tired but smile and laugh with him and your kiddo. But, he may end up a bit controlling about you leaving the house without him. He’ll either become a sad puppy or an angry old man. « Baby…what do you mean you want me to stay home ? 😓🥺 » or «  Woman, what did I tell you about going out without me ? What if a crazy person tried to rob you ? » You laugh at him always being some level of dramatic but it may get annoying how clingy and worried he’ll become. You’ll have to remind him you lived this long for a reason…and plan to live longer, so he can chill out sometimes cause his worried nature worries you…you might benefit from guilt tripping him into apologizing and giving you a breather on leaving the house. But just know someone is watching over you. Renji would be a great cook or a terrible cook who improves over time. He might be great at catching the baby right when they poop or…end up shat on rushing to a sink. I really see him either being weirdly good at being a dad or definitely suffering from the learning curve.

Your baby will definitely be conceived in a wild love making, (maybe rough, passionate sex) session. And you’ll catch him blushing when he holds your baby and looks at you remembering the night you had. You’ll be the type to walk in on them sleeping crazily on the sofa, his arm instinctively holding your baby firm. He’ll be grateful to not have to jump up to go to work honestly. His biggest red flags will be being overbearing, needy, and likely requiring a lot of overt reassurance. (Which isn’t necessarily a red flag given he just will want to be a really good dad and partner.) Otherwise he’ll become a stubborn dad who will try (and fail) to « put his foot down. » Which will likely result in him sleeping on the sofa…💕

[intoanotherworld23]

Caught And Taught

Summary: Joel catches you touching yourself while watching porn, and he decides that he’ll play along too

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Warnings: smut, female masturbation, use of porn, fingering, daddy kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, soft dom Joel, minor spanking

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Authors note: Let me know in the comments what you think, and if you like it be sure to reblog so others can enjoy it too! My tag list is always open so please be sure to ask and I’ll be more than happy to add you. Thanks everyone! Enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

"Turn it on."

"Joel please-"

"I said turn it on." Joel says sternly his eyes squinting at you on the bed.

Feeling like you were going to throw up as your hands shook turning on the laptop to the video you were watching before he came home. Joel smirking as he watches you then get comfortable on the bed.

Of all the intimate things that have gone on in this bedroom something like this has never happened. Not once has he ever seen you touch yourself, and he was getting excited at the thought.

Soon as you press play on the video you were watching minutes ago. He gives you this mischievous look that makes you swallow a lump forming in your throat.

"Well," he starts off as he unbuttons his shirt. "Keep doing what you were doing."

Taking a huge intake of breath as your hand drops down between your legs. Touching your incredibly wet folds not sure what to do with Joel standing basically between your legs.

Moving your fingers up and down to gather the juices on your own fingers lubing yourself up. Gathering up some confidence as you pushed them inside of yourself. Opening your mouth open slightly already use to the feeling of your own fingers.

Hearing the over exaggerated moans on the computer screen. Feeling slightly embarrassed for being caught watching this while Joel was away. Joel however was focused on you and not the porn right in front of him.

Looking down to what you were doing ashamed to even look at him. Thrusting your fingers in and out a small moan escaping your lips. Straightening up as you cleared your throat awkwardly.

Quickly glancing at Joel to see him grinning devilishly. The only clothing he had left on were his underwear. He was eagerly waiting in anticipation to when he could jump in.

He was intrigued watching you like this. It was almost like he was on the edge of his seat waiting to see what happens next. Your cheeks become warm as you hold his gaze.

"Just like that baby girl." His hand rubbing himself through his boxers hoping to ease the pressure.

Your fingers stopping their movements for the slightest second. Joel saw this and groaned with disapproval.

"Did I say to stop?" Taking another deep breath as you keep going.

Joel couldn't keep his hands to himself anymore as you feel him grasp onto your ankle. The sudden touch had you jump. That didn't stop him though as he moved his hand up your leg. Massaging the flesh smoothly and in a comforting way that didn't intimidate you too much.

As you looked over quickly to the screen the woman was being fingered by some buff male. Her body writhing on the bed as the camera panned in on his fingers thrusting into her violently.

"I want you to come apart on your fingers." His hand pushed your thighs further apart so he could get a better look. "I know you can do it baby girl."

That was more than enough motivation for you as your fingers were slamming into you. The palm of your hand smacking against your pelvis. It felt good but it wasn't enough for you, and you needed Joel.

"Joel." Whining as you ground your hips into the mattress.

"What baby?" His hands now on your upper thigh so close yet so far away.

"Joel please." Begging him without saying anything he knew what you needed.

Joel moves closer to you as his hand touches your pussy. Softly rubbing his thumb back and forth on your clit. The powerful sensation had your toes curling and your back arching off the bed. All you needed was his touch on yours, and Joel secretly knew that.

Looking up at Joel to see his jaw clench, and his eyes wide with lust. Seeing this look on his face your now glad that Joel caught you watching porn otherwise this wouldn't have happened.

"Keep fucking yourself." Joel grunts as he kisses the top of your knee. "I know you're so close."

You nod in obedience. A soft smile glistening on his hips for your full submission. He could see you like this all the time. It was the hottest thing he's ever bared witness to.

Eyes glancing over at the screen again the man was now thrusting into the woman not waiting or anything. Her moans were turning into wails as he railed her into the mattress. The sounds alone had your ears feeling like they were on fire from embarrassment.

"Is that what you like?" You had to make sure to answer him carefully.

"I want you Joel." Shaking your head hoping your words would sway him. "Only you."

"Good." The pace of his fingers in match with your fingers inside of yourself.

It felt like your vision was getting hazy between your fingers and his. Any second now you could cum around your fingers, and Joel knew this judging by the look on your face.

"It hurts." Joel hums at your words as he licks his lips.

"Does it?" Cocking his head to the side.

"Yes daddy it does." Hearing you call him daddy sends him over the edge. He had a weakness whenever you'd whisper that name. It always did something to him.

Not wasting another second in taking off his boxers tossing them somewhere in the room. Your fingers removing themselves as you laid back legs spread waiting for him with a slight glimmer in your eye.

"Does my baby want me to fuck her?" Joel says as he waits for your response.

"Yes daddy I need to feel you inside me."

Joel then crawls up your body his mouth kissing up your trembling stomach. His mustache brushing against your skin making your body jolt. A trail of saliva follows the movements of his mouth. Your hands on either side of your head as your chest rose up and down heavily.

"Are you ready for me?" He asked against your breast biting down on your nipple making you cry out.

"Mhm." Breathing out harshly.

"What's that?" Cocking his head to the side not accepting that reply.

"Yes daddy."

Before you could say anything else his mouth is right on yours. Taking your lips against his like they were the last drop of water. He was thirsty for you, and planned on swallowing every last drop of you.

His tongue feels so incredible against yours. The sensation for both of you is becoming insatiable. He craves every inch of you. His hand reaches up and holds your jaw in his hands. The warmth of his hand pressed against your skin gave you a comforting feeling. Almost like he was telling you that you were safe with him.

"Don't think we need this anymore." Quickly turning the computer off so you could solely focus on each other.

"You won't be needing to watch porn like this anymore." His words more like a command than a request. "I wanna show you how much better the real thing is."

Joel watches your face as he nudges his cock towards your now dripping pussy, his large and swollen head disappearing between your folds. Finally moving forward even more.

Bracing himself against your hips as the air seems to leave your lungs. Both of you watching as his cock stretches you out. Silently cursing to himself when he sees how you welcome him. Gritting his teeth as his hands on either side of you grip on the sheets beneath him.

Joel would never get used to the feeling of how tight you felt around him. It was almost like a soft velvety feeling he wanted to wrap himself around.

"No more of this shit I mean it." He growled kissing you hard. "You will only fucking cum for me and nobody else."

Mumbling his name with a whine, but that seemed to only delay his actions.

"Do you understand me sweetheart?" His cock still inside of you as he waited for your response.

"Yes daddy." That was good enough for him.

Moving his hips back as he pushed forward to fill you to the brim. Your head feeling back against the pillows reaching forward to grab onto his butt. His cheeks clenching as they flexed when he pressed into you.

"For now." Mumbling just under a whisper.

"Excuse me?"

Before you could repeat what you just said he's already flipped you over so that your on your stomach. Pulling your hips up so your on your hands and knees. Smacking your ass leaving a slight sting.

Unable to catch your breath he pushes back into you. Without another hesitation he's thrusting with the same rhythm and motion as before. Hands glued to your sides as he pulled you back to meet his hips.

"What did you fucking say?" He hissed each word being spoke along with a thrust.

His hand coming down on your ass again. Your skin felt like it was on fire the way he was controlling your body. He loved seeing you like this though.

"Nothing." Stuttering as you buried your head into the pillow.

"Uh Uh Uh." He tsked at you.

"Nothing daddy." Responding as you wiggled your hips teasing him even further.

"That's what I thought. That's better."

Joel wasn't going to have that though. He wanted you to know that he was in charge, and wasn't going to put up with your back talking. All he wanted was to hear your words to him, and how badly you wanted it.

"Beg." Was all he said making you whine as he stopped his movements. "Beg for me."

Feeling suddenly shy and embarrassed to know you've gotta beg for him like a pathetic desperate whore.

"Beg for my cock and I'll give you what you want." His voice a touch softer as he pleaded with you. "I want to hear those pretty lips beg for me."

"Joel I want your cock so badly please." You started off but he wanted more. "It hurts so much please I want you and only you. Nobody can make me feel the way that you do."

He was loving this more than he should.

"Fuck me so hard with your cock I can't walk for a week."

With that he begins such a unmerciful pace that has your body and the bed rocking. He wants you to know he's in charge, and that he's the only man you ever need in your life.

He's drinking in every detail. The way your ass jiggles each time he pushes forward, the way your pussy clenches when he pulls out, and the sounds coming from your lips. He wants to savor each moment like it's the last time.

"Such a good girl for me letting me fuck you like this." He praised sweating dripping down his forehead.

Joel knows by your body that you aren't far, and your so close to the heavens he wants to help bring you to it. Wants to hear you scream his name as you cream around his cock.

"Joel." The way you said his name was like a warning.

"What baby?" He made fun as he kissed your shoulder blade. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so close." Is all you can say which is the truth. Any moment now and you'd be drenching his cock with your juices.

Weaving his fingers through your hair slightly tugging pulling your neck back. Mouth hanging open as you waited to see what he would do next. You never knew with Joel. One minute he could be cool and collected, and then next thing he's red with rage and unable to control his actions.

"Don't you want to cum around my cock?" He questioned with a grin on his face.

"Yes Joel please so badly." You mewl pathetically.

Your body is beyond spent, and your arms and legs are trembling and shaking to the point you become numb. A tear rolling down your cheek, and Joel is able to glance a peek.

"So fucking good for me baby." Clenching his jaw as a hand reached forward to grab your shoulder to have more leverage.

You can feel his breath on the back of your shoulder as he hovers over your body. His hips connecting with yours as your cheeks jiggle back and forth with each powerful thrust.

Joel wants to watch your face. He loves seeing the expression you make when you orgasm. To know that he's the reason behind that gives him pride.

The pressure is building faster and faster. It feel so close yet so far away. Within arms reach and Joel isn't letting you grab it. He just grins wickedly down at your mewling and pathetic cries to him.

"I'm right there with you baby girl." A hand slips under your body to attach to your clit.

A squeak slipping past your lips at the sudden and rough touch. It hurts but it a very good way that almost heightens the pleasure you're feeling. Turning your head your mouth finds the pillow and you bite down on it to muffle your sounds.

"You're doing good baby," he coos kissing your shoulder blade tenderly. "You're doing so good for me. You're okay you're almost there."

He pinches your clit between his fingers, and the small action sends you right over the edge. A shock running through your body almost like you were being brought back to life.

He rotates his fingers slowly and gingerly on your clit to help ease you through your orgasm. His thrusting had slowed down, but he hasn't stopped. He simply keeps going and keeps his eyes glued to the side of your face. Spent and fucked.

"Oh fuck I'm right there." Nodding your head back at him as your able to see him from the corner of your eye.

Noticing you were trying to look at him his cock twitches violently as he fills you completely and utterly. His head resting against the top of your back. His arms shaking trying to hold himself up so he doesn't hurt your already sore body.

"That went way better than I expected." He chirps as he pulls out with a hiss your sensitive clenching as he did.

Feeling the mix of your cum and his dribbling out of you and onto the sheets. Your eyes fluttering with relief knowing it was over, but sad that he was done. Joel could keep going until he passes out, but he didn't want to do that to your poor body.

Joel's hand massaging up and down your spine all the way to your ass. Hoping his touch would help sooth you and comfort you. He knew you had to be tired, and wanted to help ease you into slumber.

"I'm serious though." He says making you lift your head to fully look at him.

Taking note of how red and sweaty his face is. His lips were swollen from kissing you, and biting down on his lips. His pupils were dilated like he just took something or he was high off of you.

"No more fucking porn. You can watch only my cock." That seemed a little extreme not letting you be able to watch porn. "So I guess we'll just have to make our own."

[fanfics4all]

Knife Play

Request: Yes / No Kinktober Day 11

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

F.P Jones x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1234

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and your boyfriend are in your twenties and decide to role-play

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I sat in the comfort of my bedroom, which had a soft glow from my lamp. I was finishing some paperwork as I talked to my friend on my phone. I reached out to my nightstand to grab a pen when I heard the sound of a door closing. I froze, I lived alone… 

My heart started to race and I quickly excused myself from my friend. I walked over to my door, pressing my ear to it. All I heard was silence, so I shrugged. I played it off that it was my mind playing tricks on me. My phone started to ring, thinking it was just my friend calling me back, I picked it up. 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Hey babe.” I heard and my eyes widened. 

“FP?” I asked, quietly. 

“You look so pretty in that nightgown… Are you wearing anything underneath?” He asked and I gulped. 

“W-What?” I stuttered and he chuckled. 

“You really think you could just walk away?” He asked and I gulped. 

“I-I’ll call the police.” I said and he laughed. 

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, you’re gonna walk down to the living room slowly. You’re gonna run and I’m gonna catch you. If you don’t come down, I’ll just come up and get you.” He said then hung up. My heart was pounding and I could feel tears start to form in my eyes. I thought about climbing out the window, but I knew he’d find me. The next best thing is to block the door and call the cops. I step towards my desk chair, but suddenly felt a blade pressed against my neck. 

“Shhhh, behave now.” He shushed me before I could scream. 

“I told you to listen.” He cooed in my ear. 

“Please, don’t.” I begged. 

“Listen to me, alright?” He said and I slowly nodded my head. 

“Good girl. I want you to lie down on your bed and stay there. Don’t you move, scream, talk, nothin’ unless I tell you to.” I nodded once again and he slowly removed the knife from my neck. I did as he asked and lay on the bed, but didn’t let the tears fall. I looked up at FP and watched him get on the bed, tossing the knife to the side as he pinned me down. 

“You really shouldn’t have fuckin’ left.” He mumbled as he ran his rough hands up and down my thighs. He stopped at the hem of my underwear. 

“You wear this just for me?” He asked as he pulled them down. I was trying to get him off me by pushing his shoulder, but he was stronger. 

“I have a-” 

“Not anymore, I took care of him for ya.” He cut me off with a smile. 

“What are you doing this?” I sobbed, trying to get away from his touch. 

“I love you, so much and you just had to leave. I knew I’d find ya, but it’s still annoyin’” He said and I kept trying to push him off. He flipped me onto my stomach and lifted my waist so my face was pushed into my pillows and my ass was in the air. 

“You’re bein’ a fuckin’ brat.” He growled. He pulled my underwear down and smacked my ass with one hand while holding my waist still with the other. He forcefully spread my legs and smacked my wet pussy hard. I let out a yelp, but he rubbed my clit with his thumb to soothe me. He pressed kisses to my cheek and I tried to move my face away. 

“You don’t like my kisses?” He asked, leaning in again to give me a few more. I scrunched up my face and tried to move away. 

“Gonna make you feel real good baby. I’m gonna make my little pussy cream all over my cock.” He said, grabbing the knife and bringing it back to my neck. He pulled himself out of his boxers and started to line himself up. 

“I would stretch you out a bit first, but you’ve been a naughty little bitch and you’re already drippin’ for me.” He said, I could hear the smile in his voice. I screamed as I felt his fat tip press against my entrance. 

“Shhh, it’s only the tip.” He muttered, slowly easing himself in. I finally felt his tip pressing against my cervix. 

“It’s too big! Too much… Too big…” I hissed, squeezing down on his cock. I could hardly move since the knife was at my throat. 

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, fuck I missed this pussy.” He grits through his teeth as he starts to thrust. I whined and tried to pull away from his grip. 

“Keep cryin’ baby, it’s only making me harder.” He grunted, and my tears continued to stream down my cheeks.

He was pounding into me now. He was going hard and fast, I wished I could grab onto his shoulders or hair as he repeatedly hit my sweet spot. 

“Stop FP!” I whined. He hushed me, by tossing the knife onto the bed against and covering my mouth. 

“I should cum inside you, knock you up that way you’ll never leave me again.” He breathed out, letting go of my face only to wrap it around my neck. 

“No! No, please! Don’t FP!” I cried out.

He let go of my neck and threw me back down so I was pushed into the mattress again. He gripped my sheets and grabbed the knife again. 

“That’s the knife I used to take care of that boyfriend of yours.” He said, gently scraping it down my back. He used his other hand to start rubbing my clit. 

“I’m Cumming!” I moaned, my body arching as I gave into his touch. I could feel my skin breaking under the knife. 

“That’s it, baby, cum all over my cock.” He encouraged. I shut my eyes tightly as the white-hot explosion consumes me. 

“Atta girl, see? I knew you could be so good for me.” He thrusted once more hard and deep, shooting his load inside me. I whined at the feeling and he groaned. 

He pulled out of me, pushing two fingers inside to keep his cum inside. He leaned down and bit my right ass cheek. I let out a little scream then he flipped me onto my back. He gently dragged his knife down to my thighs and started carving a little FP into my inner thigh. I tried now to move around too much, but I let out a little whimper of pain. 

“There we go, all mine.” He smiled. I could feel the exhaustion taking over, but he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. I heard him toss the knife to the floor and he moved to cuddle me. 

“How ya feelin’ darlin’?” He asked and I gave a small smile. 

“So good, the killing of the boyfriend was a nice touch this time.” I said and he chuckled. 

“Glad you liked it.” He said and kissed my temple. 

“Now you relax, we gotta take care of that little mark I gave you.” He said and I groaned. 

“But I’m tired.” I said and he chuckled again. 

“I know. You just lay there and look pretty, I’ll do all the work.” He said and I smiled, letting the tiredness win and my eyes gently shut.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @emo-godess-loves-you @hiya-imthatgirl @mindsetjupiter @averysinclaire @mittelerde1999 @sweetest-peas @rousewriter @camiconfessions-blog @thecaptainsgingersnap @cenyddtheunicorn @jacksxsouthsideserpents @lover2448 @mamacobie13 @adamsbubblegumbitch

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Spooky Season | Halloween Event 2024

Hidden Secrets | Joshua

🧡 Pairing: Serial Killer!Joshua Hong x Oblivious-Wife!Reader.

🖤 Requested by: anon

🧡 Prompt: 13 - There's a killer on the loose. It just so happens to be Readers loving husband.

🖤 Warnings: Murder, serial murders, 'psychopathy gene' is mentioned, there's a silly woman who thinks she can come between the couple. this is loosely based on the start of the first episode of the k-drama Mouse. Watch it if you haven't already, I loved it, especially the first half of the series.

🧡 Word Count: 1,885

🖤 Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form. Please note that the halloween event taglist is included in the general taglist.

Spooky Season 2024 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Joshua stands at his front door, his face void of any emotion as he takes a moment to himself before putting on a cheerful smile and entering the home he shares with his pregnant wife.  

“Hi, honey,” he beams, wrapping her in a warm embrace and planting a gentle kiss on her cheek. “How was your day? I hope the little one didn’t give you too much trouble.” He places a hand on her belly, feeling the baby shift inside. With just three weeks to go until the due date, the little guy has been more active than ever.  

“It was good! He’s been a little angel,” she replies with a smile. “Just really active. I think he’s – did you get hurt today?” She asks noticing a red mark on his shirt collar and leans in for a closer look.  

He glances down at the spot she’s inspecting. “Oh, it’s nothing, just a little nosebleed,” he says casually, thinking to himself, ‘I did it again.’ “Really, it’s nothing to worry about,” he reassures her with a soft smile. He takes her hand, which is still on his collar, and kisses her back of her fingers softly. “I’m going to take a shower now.”  

“I’ll warm up some food for you,” she replies, her cheeks flushing from his sweet gesture. He gives her another kiss before heading to the bathroom while she moves to the kitchen.  

Once inside the bathroom, Joshua turns on the shower and removes his shirt, the small blood stain capturing his eye. Standing in front of the mirror, his thoughts drift back to earlier in the night.  

“Just a little nosebleed,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at his own carelessness. He can’t get caught now, not when Y/N’s so close to having his child. The thought of what she might do, especially to his offspring, if she discovers the truth about him sends a shiver down his spine. 

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the TV in the living room hums softly as Y/N stirs the soup she prepared for dinner. She’s only half-listening until a breaking news alert interrupts her thoughts. Another body has been found in the nearby park.  

“Authorities have not confirmed if this murder is connected to the four serial killings that have occurred in the last three months. Residents are advised to stay safe, remain vigilant, and report any suspicious behavior.”  

Y/N’s heart races as she listens to the news. A chill runs through her, and she can’t shake the thought of moving to a safer neighborhood, not wanting to bring her child into a place where a serial killer is on the loose.  

“What are you watching?” Joshua asks, entering the kitchen with a towel around his neck, his hair still damp from the shower. He looks relaxed, as if the weight his job doesn’t rest on his shoulders anymore. 

“They found another body,” she replies, her voice tense.  

He glances at the TV, his back to her, a sinister smile creeping onto his face as he listens to the reporter’s monotone voice go on about the very little information that they have right now. “Oh, that’s terrible,” he says, his voice filled with faux sympathy and sadness. “Maybe it’s time for us to move,” he adds, as if he can read her thoughts, turning to face her. 

Switching off the stove, she ladles some soup into a bowl for him. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. It doesn’t feel safe here anymore.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, taking the bowl from her. After grabbing some utensils, he sits at the table. “I’m working late again tomorrow but I’ll have Saturday off so we can start looking for a new house outside the area then.” 

“You’re working late again tomorrow?” she asks, her voice filled with confusion and something he hasn’t heard before, unsureness.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Do we have something planned?” 

“No,” she shakes her head. “Duri called earlier, something about needing a ride to and from work tomorrow, something about her car being serviced. She thought since you finish and start at the same time and that she lives on the way to work, that she would ask you for a ride,” she explains as she sits in the chair across from him. Y/N had been surprised when her husband’s new co-worker called their home. She was pretty sure only his superiors had their home phone number. “Apparently you were supposed to give her a ride home today but left without her.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “She never asked me for a ride home today and I will never be giving her a ride anywhere. She lives on the other side of town,” he tries to assure her but the last part is a lie. Duri lives four blocks from them. “Did she try to imply anything?” he asks his wife, wanting to know why she sounded so unsure. 

She nods. “Her whole tone was smug, like the cat that caught the canary. It just didn’t sound genuine.” 

“You trust me right,” he asks. 

She nods again, fiddling with his fingers. “Of course, I do,” she replies, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her lingering worries. Being heavily pregnant brought about her insecurities about whether Joshua still finds her attractive and still sees her as the woman he fell in love with. It's made worse when a younger more attractive woman has her sights set on her husband and planting seeds of doubt in her mind. 

“Look, Duri, is mad that I made it known that I am a happily married man who loves his beautiful, smart and loving wife more than anything in this world," he states, his voice firm yet loving and soft. He leans closer, his gaze unwavering, as if to make sure she can see the truth in his words. “And I’m not about to risk what we have for some girl who won't take a hint and already has a boyfriend.” ‘I might be a killer but I’d never cheat on you,’ his voice echoes in his mind. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin, “You are everything to me, Y/N. No one can come between us. I want you to remember that.” 

As he speaks, he watches her expression shift, the tension in her shoulders easing. “I wasn’t doubting you,” she admits. “I’m sorry for letting my insecurities get the better of me.” 

“I’m sorry that Duri put them there,” he sighs, his voice sounding a little angry. “I’ll talks to her tomorrow and make sure she never does it again,” he continues as an image of him killing her flashes in her mind. “Until then, is there anything I can do for you.” 

“A foot massage would be nice,” she smiles. “But I’m also out of the chocolate ice cream mochi’s that I love and the convenience store that we usually go to for them is all out.”  

"Do you want me to go find you some?" he asks, finishing his soup. 

"If you don't mind," she says standing up from the chair and picks up his bowl and utensils, taking them to the sink.  

Joshua stands up, following her and takes them from his hand. "I'll go once I've finished cleaning the dishes. You go sit down, put your feet up and put something fun and happy on. I don't want you or our boy listening to talks of dead bodies and serial killers, okay?" 

Not arguing with him, she exits the kitchen and walks into the living room, leaving him to clean his dishes. She sits down on the couch and starts flicking through the channels and eventually stops on a variety show she enjoys watching. 

Once the dishes are washed, dried and put away, Joshua grabs his coat and gives Y/N a quick peck on the lips on his way out the door. On his search to chocolate ice cream mochi, he decides to take a detour, driving the few blocks to Duri’s home. He parks a street away, puts on his ball cap, making sure to hide his face and makes his way to the apartment complex his co-worker lives in with her boyfriend. 

As he approaches the building, his mind races with thoughts of his earlier conversation with Y/N. Duri had always been a pain in his side. He can't shake the feeling of irritation that bubbles beneath the surface. He’s always prided himself on being the one who can handle any situation without resorting to anger. But the idea of her planting seeds of doubt in his wife’s mind triggers a part of him that he cannot ignore. 

He steps into the lobby of the apartment complex and makes his way to the elevator, thankful for his curiosity in finding out where she lived just in case it came to this.  

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and he steps inside, pressing the button for Duri's floor. As the elevator ascends, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He thinks about his unborn child and wonders if he will turn out just like him. Will he be born with the killer instinct, the so-called “psychopathy gene” or will he be weak and easily manipulated like his mother. 

The elevator dings again, and the doors slide open on Duri's floor. Joshua steps into the dimly lit corridor, his determination solidifying as he pushes thoughts of his son and wife aside. He approaches Duri's apartment door, retrieves the hammer from his bag, and knocks firmly. As soon as the door swings open to reveal Duri, he swings the hammer, sending her stumbling backward. 

The shock on her face is almost satisfying, a fleeting moment of triumph that quickly dissipates as he steps inside, closing the door behind him with his foot before he swings the hammer, hitting her over and over again. 

It’s almost an hour later when Joshua walks back through the front door of his home. The first thing he sees as he steps into the living room is Y/N, curled up a sleep on the couch, the TV playing lowly in the background. The glow of the screen casts gentle shadows across her face, illuminating her innocence.  

He quietly moves into the kitchen, placing the chocolate ice cream mochi in the freezer and walks back to his wife. Crouching down beside her, he gently places his hand on her belly, once again feeling his son moving around inside her. 

Y/N stirs slightly, her eyelids fluttering as she begins to wake. He forces a smile once again. “Hey, love,” he whispers, his voice soft and loving. “Let’s get you to bed. You’ll be more comfortable there.”  

“Did you find the mochi ice cream?” she asks as he helps her up from the couch and guides her to their bedroom. 

“It took me an hour but it’s in the freezer, ready for you to eat tomorrow,” he tells her, helping her into bed. 

She smiles, her eyes closing as soon as her head hits the pillow, heavy with sleep. “I love you.” 

He kisses her forehead, “I love you, too.” 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

@rainydayteacups - @staytiny2000 - @forever-atiny - @shuaserendipity95 - @do-you-remember-summer-127

@catzachvsvt - @lemur46 - @ateez-atiny380 - @lovrehani - @lixisoul99

@satoruifys

[rory-multifandom-mess]

I mentioned this au in the tags of a post like… Yesterday I think I don’t remember. Anyway.

In this AU, Thad’s universe had a bad ending, aka Solver managed to wipe out the whole universe.

Before the finale, Thad located this time machine thingy that looked like DD ships and taught himself to work it. During the finale, after Lizzy, Khan, and Nori died, Thad, V, N, and Uzi realized there was no winning. They started to flee toward the pod, fighting off solver; V gets killed on the way, but Uzi, N, and Thad make it to the pod. N and Uzi then realize that no one would make it out alive if they went with Thad. So while they were arguing, Uzi shoved her jacket and N’s hat logo at Thad, which shoved him in.

Thad stumbles back with a yelp, hitting his elbow on the emergency start button. The door slams and he panics, rushing forward and slamming his fists on the door, screaming and begging for them to come with him, to please don’t do this!

They turn back to him and smile. N starts to tear up. Uzi’s visor changes to text. “Survive. For us.” N’s visor also changes to text. “We’re sorry. And we’ll miss you.”

Thad begs, but the pod shakes, falling into his back as it takes off. He scrambles to his feet again, looking down at them.

He watches as Cynessa lunges at them and they’re consumed by dust. He sees oil splatter and heads fly. Yellow tendrils shoot out of the core of Copper 9 and at him. Moments before it reaches the pod, the pod enters hyperdrive, which knocks him out.

When he wakes up again, he tries to use the pod to go back to his universe, but it gives him an error message.

[[:Error: Universe Unavailable. We are sorry.]]

Yeah he’s not ok.

Anyway, all of that was 3 years ago. Here’s some extra info about the AU under the cut!

- He occasionally visits the og Universe, partly to rummage for scrap metal, partly to make sure it’s still healthy (if something bad happens to it, there goes the rest of the universes) and partly to hang with Uzi, V, and N. He physically cannot go near Lizzy because he will have a breakdown

- Hanging with the gang kind of hurts his heart but he’s coping it’s ok

- V and Uzi don’t fully trust him which also hurts but he fully understands it

- He taught himself a lot of skills like mechanics, engineering, coding, and some quantum physics, etc so he could repair himself and the pod

- Obviously, he goes around the universes saving others from total destruction like his, even if it does obstruct things. Moral dilemma pov u know how it is

- Oh also his upgrades make him 5’1

-=-=-=-=-=-

Here’s Uzi’s og design in the universe Thad is from

I was gonna draw V, Lizzy, and N’s lil design differences but i don’t have the motivation anymore, so I’ll write them.

TT! Thad’s OG Universe - SD-V

- Has the original red bandana/scarf from her concept art

- Permanent glasses

- Hair is longer, tied into a spikey bun

- “Fingerless gloves” on her normal drone hands

- Shorts, like the ones she wore in episode 4, except black and permanent

TT! Thad’s OG Universe - SD-N

- Back of hair looks more like a mullet cause it’s longer

- White T-shirt under jacket

- Gave the pilot hat logo to Uzi so she can put it on her beanie (i forgot to add that to her ref)

- Snaggleteeths

- Pilot “coat” thingy is slightly longer like a trench coat

TT! Thad’s OG Universe - Lizzy

- Instead of her hair all being up in a ponytail, she has a half up, half down look, and her ponytail isn’t as long. Medium length hair girlie

- Jacket that she wears off her shoulders so they rest around her elbows

- Streaks of pink in her hair

- Tights. don’t ask me how that works

- Obvious eyelashes added to her eyelights

- Not a physical change, but she’s slightly smarter than canon Lizzy. When she got Thad between Episodes 6 and 7, she gave him her hair ribbon, because she knew he is far more agile than she is. And she was right.

Uuuuh. Kay that’s it. send asks with questions if you have any. Yes you can draw stuff for this/draw the designs. I don’t have the motivation </3

[iovebarca]

One Tap - Pau Cubarsi

Authors note: sorry for dissapearing lol ive had a whole ass situationship and like other things

WC: 1500+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, fluff!

It all started with a random tap.

You can’t even remember where you saw his username. Maybe it popped up on your “Quick Add” list, or perhaps you had seen him tagged in one of your friend’s stories. Either way, it was a quiet night, and out of sheer boredom, you tapped “Add.” It wasn’t a big deal—you added people on Snapchat all the time. But this time was different.

This time, the guy you added was Pau.

At first, you didn’t really expect anything to come from it. He was just another random addition to your Snapchat feed—a footballer from Barcelona you vaguely recognized from TV or headlines. You sent a snap of something silly, probably your dog or whatever show you were watching, and forgot about it. But then, he snapped back.

A picture of him after training, his messy hair sticking to his forehead, with a lazy grin and a “How’s it going?” scrawled across the screen in simple white text.

That’s how it all began.

You didn’t think much of it at first—just harmless snaps exchanged throughout the day, keeping things casual. But over time, it turned into something more. The randomness of it faded, and you found yourself looking forward to his snaps. His smile, the goofy faces he’d send when he was tired after training, and the way he’d always ask about your day even if he was exhausted from practice in Barcelona, far away from your home in Córdoba.

There was an easy connection between you two, the kind that felt so natural you didn’t even realize how close you were getting. It wasn’t just about streaks anymore or sending photos of sunsets or what you were eating for dinner. It became long conversations over Snapchat, then texts, and eventually video calls late into the night.

You’d talk about anything and everything. He told you what it was like to balance life as a footballer, the highs of being on the field and the lows of dealing with pressure. You’d share stories about school, your life in Córdoba, and how you’d sneak in time to watch him play whenever you could catch the games on TV.

He’d laugh at your stories, always making you feel like you were the most interesting person in the world. And his laugh—it was addictive. It came out in bursts, sometimes making his whole face light up through the screen, and every time you heard it, you’d feel a little warmer inside.

You didn’t know exactly when your feelings shifted, but suddenly, he wasn’t just a footballer in Barcelona anymore. He was Pau, the guy who made you laugh, who would send you a picture of his breakfast with a silly caption just to brighten your day, who always seemed to know exactly what to say when you were feeling low.

It was innocent, sweet, and yet a little bittersweet too. He was there, on the other side of the screen, but also miles away.

You were in Córdoba. He was in Barcelona.

Still, you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Every morning, you’d wake up to a sleepy selfie from Pau—his hair a mess, his eyes half-closed, but always with a “Buenos días” just for you. And at night, you’d talk until one of you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, ending the conversation with a quiet “Goodnight.”

One night, after months of this back-and-forth, Pau brought it up.

“I really want to see you,” he said softly over the phone. It was late, and you were both lying in bed, the only sound being his quiet voice and the occasional rustle of sheets as he shifted.

You felt your heart skip a beat, that warm, nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. You’d been thinking about it too—about what it would be like to see him in person. But it felt impossible. “I want to see you too,” you whispered, a smile pulling at your lips. “But I mean... how? You’re there, I’m here…”

“I’ll come to Córdoba,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t care. I want to see you.”

You laughed softly, not entirely sure if he was serious. “Yeah? You’re just going to show up at my door?”

“Maybe I will,” he teased. “You never know.”

You brushed it off, not thinking much of it. But in the following days, Pau became a little quieter, not snapping as much, not calling as often. He mentioned being busy with training and travel, and you tried not to worry. Still, you missed him, and the distance felt heavier without your daily chats.

A few days later, you were home alone, lounging on the couch and flipping through your phone. The day had been long, and you felt restless, wishing Pau would call or at least send one of his usual goofy snaps to cheer you up.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Not a snap—your doorbell.

Confused, you got up and made your way to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and when you peeked out of the window, your heart stopped.

Pau was standing on your doorstep.

It didn’t seem real at first. Your brain struggled to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. He was just standing there, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of his jacket, looking a little nervous but with that familiar, lopsided grin on his face. He gave a small wave, as if he wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft but filled with that quiet confidence you knew so well.

You stood there, speechless, for what felt like forever. How was he here? He was supposed to be in Barcelona. Was this a dream? It had to be a dream.

But it wasn’t. This was real. He was real.

“Pau…” you finally whispered, your voice shaky. “What… how…”

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I told you I’d show up at your door.”

Before you could say anything else, you threw your arms around him. The second you felt his solid, warm presence against you, everything else melted away. He hugged you back immediately, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

It was the first time you’d ever felt him, really felt him, and it was overwhelming. His heartbeat against your chest, the way he smelled like fresh air and the faint hint of cologne, the warmth of his embrace—it all felt like everything had fallen into place. He held you like he didn’t want to let go, and for the longest time, neither of you moved, just standing there in each other’s arms.

You finally pulled back, just enough to look up at him. His face was inches from yours, his eyes soft and searching as he studied you. He looked nervous, almost shy, like he couldn’t quite believe he was really standing in front of you.

“You’re actually here,” you breathed, still trying to wrap your head around it.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “I told you I couldn’t wait anymore.”

And then, before either of you could second-guess it, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative, like neither of you were sure how to handle the moment. But when your lips met his, everything just clicked. His hands cradled your face as he kissed you, his touch gentle but firm, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel you, to know you were real.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more—sweet, slow, a little awkward in the best way possible. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly as his lips moved softly against yours, your heart pounding in your chest. It was a kiss that felt like the culmination of months of waiting, of longing, of wanting something more than just a screen between you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. His eyes were soft, his lips still curled into that small, shy smile you adored.

“That was… better than I thought it’d be,” he whispered, his voice low and a little shaky, like he was just as overwhelmed as you were.

You laughed softly, your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his jacket. “Same.”

He laughed too, the sound light and warm, and suddenly, the nervousness that had been hanging between you disappeared. You felt at ease with him, like you had always known you would.

“So,” you asked, smiling up at him, “how long are you staying?”

“As long as you’ll have me,” he said with a grin, his arms tightening around your waist. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

“Good,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him again, “because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

And as you stood there, wrapped up in each other, everything felt right. The distance didn’t matter anymore. It was just you and Pau, together at last, and you knew this was only the beginning of something incredible.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Vomiting 🤮

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: Jade's been trying to get into your head about Bucky, but he assured you she was just trying to cause trouble between the two of you.

A/N: We are officially half way through the story, lovelies! I'm so happy to be on this journey with all of you! NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The day you and Bucky were scheduled to leave for Moscow, you went to the dining room to say your goodbyes before boarding the Quinjet. The team was gathered around the large dining table when you walked in, plates of Thai food spread across the space. 

“You ordered Thai?” you moaned. “Knowing that I’m about to spend hours in a tin can, stuck eating MREs for who knows how long, risking my life for truth, justice, and freedom, and you order Thai just as I’m leaving? I thought you were my friends! My family! Do I mean nothing to the lot of you?!”

“Relax, drama queen,” Nat said. “I’ll fix you a to-go container.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” you said. “You are a true friend.” You glared around the room at everyone else, pointing an accusing finger. “The rest of you, however… I will remember this.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around you and squeezed your shoulders. “Maybe we can make a detour in Thailand and get it straight from the source, doll,” he said with a laugh.

“I like your way of thinking, Barnes,” you said. Natasha handed you the to-go container and you did a little happy dance. “Thank you, Natty!” you squealed, opening up the container to take a sniff of the deliciousness contained within. 

As soon as the scent of Khao Soi hit your nostrils, you were overcome with a wave of nausea. “Oh my God,” you groaned, shoving the container into Bucky’s arms and throwing your hands over your mouth. You sprinted toward the nearest bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before you were vomiting into the bowl.

As you heaved, you felt a cool, metal hand pull your hair away from your face and a warm flesh hand rubbing circles on your back. “You okay, doll?” Bucky asked, his voice full of concern as you heaved up the contents of your stomach. 

“I think there’s something wrong with that Khao Soi,” you told him once your stomach muscles had stopped spasming. “Maybe the coconut was bad?”

Bucky grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped at the sides of your mouth. “Gotta say, it smelled all right to me.” He placed a palm to your forehead. “You’re feeling a little warm. You sure you’re not comin’ down with something?”

“Maybe,” you said, giving it some thought. “I have been feeling really tired lately.” 

“If you’re sick, you know can’t I can’t let you go on this mission,” Steve’s voice came from where he was standing in the doorway. “It’s a liability.”

This was the first time Steve had spoken to you in ages, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the fact that you and Bucky weren’t technically in a relationship anymore. 

“I’m fine, Steve,” you said, but before you could further protest in favor of your good health, another wave of nausea overtook you and you were once again vomiting into the toilet bowl. 

“It’s alright, baby,” Bucky said. “I can do the mission solo. It’s more important for you to rest and get better.”

You nodded, feeling miserable and completely drained now. “Will you help me back to my room, Buck?”

“Of course, sweets.” You flushed the toilet and Bucky helped you stand up. In an instant, he’d scooped you up, carrying you, bridal-style, back down to your room. He deposited you gently on the edge of the tub in your bathroom and poured you a cup of water.

“Here, rinse your mouth,” he said, offering you the glass, and you accepted gratefully. You swished the liquid through your mouth, rinsing away the acidic taste of bile before you spat the water out in the sink. While you were doing that, Bucky brought you a change of clothes, helping you out of your tac-suit and into one of his tee shirts and a pair of pajama pants. 

“Better?” he asked as he tucked you into your bed. 

You nodded, burrowing down into your scarlet comforter. Wanda had been right– it had been permanent, and it was now your favorite bedding. “Thanks, Buck,” you murmured. “I’m sorry we won’t be going on the mission together. I was really looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “But you’ve got nothing to apologize for. I just want you gettin’ better.” You smiled at him as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. “I hate leaving you like this.”

You laughed. “It’s just a stomach bug, Buck,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “I’ll be right as rain when you get back, promise. But you better go before Steve comes banging the door down for you.”

“Is there anything I can get you before I go?” he asked, brows furrowed with worry. “I could make you some tea.”

“No,” you stifled a yawn. “But thank you. I’m wiped; I think I’m just going to take a nap. Puking is exhausting. We gonna do our calls?” you asked him. Each time one of you was away on a mission, you would call the other once a day, a kind of proof-of-life to ensure to the other you were safe. If a call wasn’t possible, you’d make sure to at least send a text, never wanting the other to worry more than necessary.

“Of course,” he said. He leaned down to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“Buck,” you whined, “I just threw up. You don’t want to kiss me right now.”

“Always wanna kiss you, Pocket,” he said, leaning in again. This time you let him, though you kept it from getting too deep. Yes, you knew you were blurring the lines of the new parameters you had set up for your relationship, but successful missions were never something to be taken for granted, so you would never pass up the opportunity for what could possibly be a last kiss.

“Alright, Barnes,” you said when the kiss broke, “get outta here before Steve comes in and drags your ass out.”

With a final wave, Bucky departed, leaving you alone to drift off, the discomfort in your stomach temporarily forgotten.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[yeonbinwyd]

been away

pairing: sub fem!reader x softdom!yeonjun

synopsis: you and yeonjun had been fwb for while. It’s one of those nights he needed a fix although you’re trying to cut him off but you might be addicted too

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni, aggressive sex

word count: 2,218 words

“hey” is the text that you received. It was 1:50 am and your bright phone screen woke you up. You look and it was none other than him. The same him that always texts you at this time of night. Half awake, you glance over at your phone. “u up?” A second one comes in. You roll your eyes and turn away from your phone. You didn’t want to keep indulging in these activities with jun but it was a habit you couldn’t break. Maybe not paying attention to them would answer your problems. A few minutes had passed and you felt a bit of relief. Your phone started to ring and panic started to rush over you. Do you pick it up? Deep down inside, you wanted to see him again. To feel his touch again. To feel his embrace again. Even for just a short encounter. He made it clear that he can’t commit to you. At first, it was fine. It was just. Nothing more nothing less. It’s been going on for months though. How much longer can you tolerate being one of his girls. It felt degrading but you would much rather just drop him than even express how you’ve been feeling towards him. In a bit of a spiral, you realize the phone stops ringing. You take a look at the screen just to see his unnamed contact show up. You know that number but you refused to add a name to it. It would mean something to you. While glancing at the missed call, you gain your senses and find yourself fully awake. Without a second to think, the phone rings again. He knows he can get you. He knows you’ll pick up and you do.

“Hello?” You manage to answer.

“Hey baby girl. You awake?” He asks. You take a long pause before responding.

“You should stop calling this late” you say with a bit of hesitation.

“Why? You sick of me now? You know I can’t get enough of you and you can’t stay away.” He says with much confidence. It drives you nuts but he’s right. You couldn’t get enough of him and it made you crazy. You pause again, trying to find the right words to say.

“Should I come over?” He questions. He knows you’ll say yes and is already ready to leave. He just needs you to say the word and he’ll be there.

“Come on. I miss you. It’s been a while and I’ve been away” he tries to convince you.

“Ok. You can come by” you finally respond to him.

“I’ll be there soon” he disconnects and doesn’t waste any time. Your gut filed with utter confusion. Deep down inside, you were excited and couldn’t wait to see him but also you thought,

Nothing would change

Not even fifteen minutes had passed and you heard a knock on your door.

You opened the door to see Yeonjun standing there, towering over you and taking in your body. You wearing a thin, simple tank and tight shorts. What you always sleep in but he always found a way to sexualize everything you do. Whether it would be you bending over to pick something up or even brushing your teeth, he would be staring. It almost felt uncomfortable how entranced he was with you. Not wasting any time he pushed you up against the wall leaning down to look you in the eye.

“Hey baby. You missed me?” He looked you dead in the eye with the biggest smirk. You can tell he came from being out. There was eyeliner on his eyes still and he smelled of alcohol.

“Why is your first thought to hit me up when you finish drinking?” You glared back.

“Aww you’re mad at me huh? I missed you though.” He tilted his head to one side, his arm still keeping you trapped under him. You remained unshaken while frowning your brows. He softens his gaze and takes a step back

“Ok I’m sorry. I won’t call you this late anymore.” He says while holding his hands up while backing away and admitting guilt. You rolled your eyes

and cross your arms as you turn from him. You lead him into the living room. He trails behind you, watching your every step, mesmerized by the sheer movement of your body. As the two of you take a seat, he sits down and grabs your thigh. One of his favorite parts of you.

“So where did you come from?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Yeonjun asked, reacting slowly to the question.

“Where’d you come from?” You ask again. He scoots a bit closer to you and grips your thigh tight.

“Oh just drinking with some friends. I had a show too” he responds with confidence. He moves his hand to trap it in between your closed legs. He could feel your warmth building up. He’s testing the waters and doesn’t want to make you more mad than you already are. He noticed that you weren’t reacting to his touch which gave him the go ahead.

“Did you miss me since I’ve been away?” He asked. You didn’t respond but instead looked the other way.

“I get it. You’ve got your own thing and have your own life. You don’t have time to miss me.” He starts. His hand wanders under your shirt. His cold hand make you jump a bit as he feels up you stomach. After that you relax a bit and he continues moving upward. He makes eye contact with you. “But you miss this…” he continues. His hand now cupping your breast. Yeonjun gives it a gentle squeeze. You wince while biting your lip. Satisfied, he continues by pinching your nipple, giving it a flick. He waits for your reaction but you refuse to be responsive. He decides to pinch a bit hard to get something out of you. A small moan escapes your mouth. He smirks then shakes his head. Now pulling away, he chuckles a bit at your despair.

“I knew you missed me.”

He pulls you on his lap. His hard on pressed against you. You’re now facing him and his precious lips. It’s obvious he has a lip stain from the makeup early in the day but it still drew you in. Both hands trail along your spine and draws circles on your back. “You can’t escape me now” he grips your waist and leans in close. So close for a kiss but he just takes you in. He sees the want in your eyes but you’re hiding it well. He presses light kisses along your necks and collarbone. He won’t kiss you first. He wants you to beg for it or make the first move. He locks eyes with you. What will your move be ?

Eyes locked. His hands moving from your back now to your thighs. He sits back taking you in again.

What is she thinking? He thought.

You caved and placed both hands on his chest, leaning forward. You kiss him on the mouth which leaves him a bit shocked. He gets it together kissing you back. Small kisses turn into a tongue war as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He shifts his focus to your neck while leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone. He finds a spot where his lips can stay muzzled into your skin. He takes the chance and leaves small bites and tugs a bit at the exposed skin. You cry out with a moan so loud he didn’t expect it. It fuels him, tightening his grip around your waist, shifting his kisses from your shoulder to your breasts. Yeonjun can’t contain himself and buries his face in your chest. You start to moan and he raises his hand up to cup your mouth. He looks up at you. Excited and ready for more.

“We’re just getting started.” He lifts you and switches to be on top of you. As you’re lying down flat, he pins your arms above your head. He has an even better view of you. Every curve. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Without wasting any time, he slides his hand down your shorts to feel your wet pussy, just grazing it. You gasp a bit at his cold hand. He smiles even bigger grin than before. He’s proud of how wet he’s already made you. His finger flicks your clit a bit causing you to fidget a bit. His other hand still pinning both of yours down hard so there’s no fighting back. You kick your legs a bit but it causes him to flick more aggressively.

“Nuh uh ah. No fighting back.” He slips his finger in between your folds to feel your wetness. His eyes widen a bit and he takes his hand out. He licks his fingers in amazement.

“You did miss me. Mmmm you taste so good.” He quickly puts his hand back in your shorts. This time with wet fingers. Without hesitation, he sticks his fingers inside. You thrust your head back in pleasure,biting your lower lip. He can’t help but chuckle leaning in close to your face. You release your lips to adjust to him getting close to your face, making eye contact now. He applies more pressure to his hand inside your hole. At this point he’s teasing you like he’s just keeping his hand warm. He starts palming your clit. You moan under your breath then sigh.

“Come on beg. I wanna hear you ask for it” he demands. You shake your head and refuse.

“Ok that’s fine” he takes his hand out and removes his other hand from holding your wrists back. Yeonjun smirks while leaning back. The abrupt halt is brought to your attention. You sit up on your forearms to meet eye to eye with him. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity. The eye contact is so intense, it’s silent between you two. You knew he wouldn’t continue if you didn’t corporate.

“Ok please.” You beg.

“Like you mean it .” He retorts. You sigh.

“Please keep going. I miss you.” You enthuse.

“That’s a good girl. I miss you too” Yeonjun coos. He pushes your legs up, spreading them at the same time giving himself the best view. It pushes you back flat on your back. He licks his lips before diving in. Yeonjun licks your clit. He doesn’t waste any time. He flicks his tongue rapidly to really stimulate you. He begins leaning in to push your legs forward so you can’t fight back.

The pressure started building making your legs shake.

“Oh god” you cry out. He begins to suck on it forcefully. Yeonjun would take glances at you. Seeing you whimpering and almost in tears was driving him insane. He would get harder by the second. He slipped his tongue inside your cunt, taking in all the wetness coming from you. Trembling, you grip the pillow you had nearby, muffling your screams. Yeonjun, himself, couldn’t stand the teasing any longer. He lets your legs go and stands to his feet. In a swift motion he unbuckles his jeans and boxers in one go. His raging hard on, standing tall before you. You sit up once more but he meets you with a kiss. He grips the back of your head, pushing his tongue, forcing you to get a taste of yourself.

“Don’t you taste good?” He whispers into the kiss. He takes shirt off next then positions himself at your entrance. Every time you see him, you’re surprised at how big he is. Without any warning he plunges inside of you. You’re taken back a bit. Yeonjun moans lowly, gripping your hips. Your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrusts. Very fluid movement as he keeps at a steady pace, he’s been craving you for a while. He can’t stop, he won’t stop. Yeonjun presses his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes tight. You’re overwhelmed with how aggressive he’s being. Tears began building up in your eyes. He sees your tears and kisses them away but isn’t letting up.

“It’s ok baby. I’ll take care of you” he comforts mid kisses. Sitting back up, he grips your ankles. He’s much deeper now and can feel himself getting close but he shifts his focus so he can last longer. He looks to the ceiling but you grab one of his hands to start sucking on his finger. The sight along was putting him over the top. You could feel it too, clenching around him tight.

“Yes please.” You beg. He wraps that same hand around your neck and chokes you lightly. More tears leave your eyes as you cum. He feels you climax, unable to contain himself. He yells out y/n, spilling himself inside you. He collapses beside you while the two of you breathing heavy, in a trance. You manage to come down from your high first to sit up.

“Round two?” You ask.

[kqulitz]

HI HELLO BEFORE ANYTHING I MUST SAY YOUR WRITING IS AH, SO SO SO GOOD I LOVE IT SM 🖤 the smuts are to die for while at it oooh myyyy ~ This will be a bit of a cheesy request because I’m not braining anything spicy right now but! Here you go; It starts off with Bill and reader doing the deed, I have a soft spot for sub Bill but you can do what you think fits right, and it is quite the passionate session yk, either after not seing one another for a long time or reconciliation sex. Thing is halfway through Bill breaks down and the reader believes she did something wrong and tries to fix it, turns out Bill was simply emotional and euphoric over how much reader and their moments mean to him. He’s always been so open about wanting to live that big love and he just seems to be like such a passionate lover, it’s sweet 🖤 Have a good day/night!! And keep up the good work you’re doing so well!!

a/n: TYSM FOR THE KIND WORDS 🫶🫶🫶

passion

bill kaulitz x reader

summary: your boyfriend gets a little overwhelmed.

tags: platonic tom/reader, both reader and bill are 18, smut!!, sub! bill/dom!reader, arguments, make-up sex, soft/gentle sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding/fem on top, hand holding, crying, aftercare, brief talks of marriage at the end 🫶

smut under cut, minors dni!!!

lowercase intended

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re silently fuming on tom’s bed, arm tossed over your eyes as he hits beside you. he’s unsure of what to say, through the wall he can hear bill’s furious rearranging of things in his room. inhaling slowly, he glances at you, hand patting your leg. “go talk to him.” he mumbles. “no.” you deadpan, not moving your arm. “y/n.” he states sternly, watching you huff and roll over, your back facing him. “i know you’re upset, but you can’t hide in my room forever..!” tom adds on, watching you for a moment. “whatever you two said to each other, you don’t mean it. go tell him that.” tom pats your side. “i… can’t.” you sigh, using your forearm as a pillow.

“why not..?” tom asks cautiously. “we said we hated each other, tom. i… i can’t right now.” you respond. the pit in tom’s stomach deepens. “but you don’t hate him. i don’t even think bill is even capable of hating you..! he loves you too much.” the other twin tells you. silently, you wipe your eyes. “i just… i don’t know what to say to him.” you mumble. “anything..! it will be better than sitting in my room sulking.” tom exasperates, nudging your back. “i’m not sulking..!” you complain, yet his silence says everything. “fine, maybe a little… but i’m upset!” you argue, sighing. “look, just go talk to him. if it doesn’t come we’ll come back and we’ll order some pizza and let things cool down; then you can try again later.” tom suggests. you mull over his idea silently before nodding. “okay… fine i’ll talk to him.” you sigh, getting up. “das ist mein mädchen..!” (that’s my girl..!) tom encourages, smiling as you leave his room.

slowly, you open the door to bill’s bedroom, peering inside. his back is facing you as he rearranges everything in his closet, removing some of your clothes. your heart sinks at the possible reason, yet you push it aside. “schätzchen…” (baby) you mutter softly, closing the door. bill ignores you, hanging up one of his jackets. you walk closer, letting your arms carefully hug your boyfriend, your head resting against his shoulder as your chest presses to his back. “es tut mir leid.” (i’m sorry) you mumble, refraining from squeezing him in case he was still upset. bill exhales through his nose, it’s heavy. “sag etwas..? bitte?” (say something..? please?) you can’t help but beg, this time letting your arms hug him more firmly.

“thanks for apologising.” he shrugs a little, hanging up more of his clothes. your heart squeezes at his cold response- your breath catching a little. you can’t find anymore words, so you cling to bill tightly, hiding your face in his shoulder. bill doesn’t remove you, so you take it that he’s not entirely mad with you. “where should this go..?” he mutters, you raise your head. it’s one of you favourite shirts, he’s running his hand over it to get rid of creases. “uh- i don’t mind…” you mumble, watching as he hangs it up. you sit and think for a moment, your thumb idly stroking bill’s hip as you do so. bill’s sudden movement catches you off guard as he turns around, hugging you tightly. you squeeze him, letting him bury his face into your neck. “i’m sorry too… i shouldn’t of said some of those things.” he whines, arms squeezing you desperately. “it’s okay- i’m sorry too.” you respond, your heart fluttering with relief. you pull away slowly, looking at the pile of clothes on the bed. “want some help?” you ask sheepishly, watching him nod. now he was facing you, you could see how badly his makeup was smudged- he had been crying…

you cup his face carefully, wiping under his eyes before giving him a soft kiss. bill melts a little, hands grabbing your sides. a small knock interrupts your moment, and you turn to see tom. “i take it you two have made up?” he asks, a cheeky smile on his lips. “yes, tom- we’re fine… what’s up?” you respond, letting bill cling onto you tightly, his head resting on your shoulder. “i’m ordering pizza, what do you guys want?” he asks, watching you shrug. “just get us the usual, please.” you request, he nods. “okay. i’ll be downstairs if you need me.” he closes the door behind him, and so you turn your attention back to bill. his lips are on yours once more, it’s needy and hard. “let’s get these clothes put away, yeah?” you suggest as he pulls away. “okay.” bill smiles, turning back to the pile of clothes.

after roughly five minutes of you both putting stuff back, bill flops down onto his bed, raising his arms to you. you smile at his lazy grabby hands, getting onto his bed with him as you lean down, lips pressing to his. bill’s hands grab at your waist, guiding you on top of him. you immediately know what he’s hinting at, grinding a little as he moans into your mouth. you let your hands push his shirt up, tracing over your boyfriend’s soft skin. “let me take care of you tonight, okay?” you whisper, watching him nod with excitement. “good boy.” you add on, kissing him again. bill’s back arches into your gentle touches, whimpering against your lips as your finger tips trail down his abdomen. “hurry up..!” he whines, sensitive muscles twitching against your feathery touch. you chuckle, kissing along his jaw gently. “do we still have lube?” you ask, voice hushed as you seal your lips over a spot on his neck, leaving a dark hickey behind as you help him out of his pants. “yeah- in the drawer.” bill squirms under the feeling of your teeth, grabbing the lube for you.

you smile, pouring a generous amount on your hand. the cold sensation against his cock makes him gasp, his back arching. “mmh- fuck..!” his mouth has fallen agape as his head leans back against his pillow, soft pants leaving his lips as you stroke along his shaft. you smile, leaning down to kiss him; feeling him whimper and moan into your mouth. you shimmy out of your shorts, throwing them away as you lean down to kiss him once more. your boyfriend’s hips buck against you as you line him up, letting him push his tip inside of you. bill whines loudly, you silence him with gentle kisses, whispering soft praises between each one. bill’s chest pushes against yours as he whines, grabbing your hips tightly to help you move. it’s slow, sensual and loving, which is uncharacteristic for the two of you.

bill moans, it’s slightly choked as his hips buck up against yours. tangling your fingers between his, you steady yourself, speeding up your pace. “you feel so good..!” bill groans, eyes closed. you moan, hips grinding down against his, squeezing his hands a little. bill squeezes back, his hips stuttering upwards. “guter junge, du fickst mich so gut.” (good boy, you fuck me so good.) you praise between breathy moans. bill’s cock twitches at your words, his chest heaving with each heavy pant, his moans growing louder. you hush him, helping him sit up. bill’s face buries into your shoulder, hiding his whimpers and moans. “guter junge.” (good boy.) you whisper to him, hips rolling down against his as he chokes out a groan. “mph-! fuck, i’m gonna..-“ you let bill lay down again, letting him squeeze your hands tightly as he whimpers under you. “go ahead, my sweet boy.” you coo, your own orgasm growing closer.

bill’s moans are stutter-y and soft, his brows knitted together as he grows closer and closer; hips bucking up to meet your short thrusts. “good boy, fuck- you’re so precious.” you whisper to him, watching his cheeks tint red. he whimpers, back arching as he cums inside you. the sensation has you cumming around him, slowly riding out both your highs. “that’s my good boy. well done.” you tell him watching bill’s soft moans crumble into sobs instead- your eyes widen. “fuck, baby are you okay? i’m sorry..!” you panic, moving off of him. “no- i’m okay..!” he whimpers, letting you hug him tightly. “are you sure..?” you frown, kissing away his tears. “mhm. i’m okay…” he smiles, hugging you tightly. “i didn’t mean to make you cry.” you whine, cradling his head to your shoulder. “it’s not that- i just… i love you so much..!” he replies, tears still falling down his face. “awh, baby…!” you can’t help the gentle laugh that falls from your lips. “i mean it..! you’re so special to me! i love everything about you.” bill responds, kissing your lips gently.

“bill, you had me so worried for a second.” you giggle, kissing him back. “sorry..!” he responds, arms clinging to your torso as he curls closer. “i love you too, sweetheart.” you respond after a few seconds. bill sniffles. “i know..!” he croaks. “oh my god, babe…” you laugh, leaning down to kiss his wet cheeks. “sorry- i just love you so much..!” he whines, you laugh. “i know you do, just take a deep breath for me.” you grin, kissing his lips softly before letting him breathe. bill inhales slowly, letting out a rather shaky exhale before breaking into a smile. “i’m so lucky to have you.” he mumbles, kissing you again. “i think i’m the lucky one.” you respond. “no- you have no idea how blessed i feel whenever i wake up next to you- whether it’s on tour or here or in a hotel- i love you so much. you brighten every single one of my days, i would be lost without you.” he gushes, hugging you again.

“bill- if you don’t stop then i’ll cry..!” you half joke, squeezing him tightly. “sorry, sorry. but it’s true! i love you so much.” he responds, pulling away to kiss you. “i love you too.” you purr, moving away to dress yourself. bill does the same, his glossy eyes slowly drying as he does so. “let’s get cleaned up.” you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom. bill hums gently, letting you pamper him a little, adding sweet kisses in between each action. you can’t help the way you smile as his adoring brown eyes meet yours just before he kisses you again and again. you wipe the smudged makeup from his face, fluttering kisses along his skin afterwards. “pizza’s here!” tom calls from downstairs, you pull away. “come on then, baby. we can watch a movie.” you respond, grasping his hand and giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. bill laughs softly, following you out the door and downstairs.

tom raises his brows at the sight of you both, the hickey on his brother’s neck not going unnoticed. “i didn’t think you’d hear me.” he half jokes, putting the pizza boxes on the counter of the kitchen. “we heard you.” you roll your eyes playfully, poking tom’s side as you pass him to get yourself a drink. “alright, alright.” he mutters, smiling a little. “you two doing better?” he asks, taking a slice from his own pizza. “much better.” bill smiles at you, leaning his head on his palm as he gazed at you shamelessly. tom fakes a gag. “ring the fucking wedding bells.” he jokes, taking his pizza and moving to the living room. “maybe we will!” you shout back, listening to him fake a gag. bill’s eyes soften. “y’mean that?” he asks, stealing a slice of pizza. “maybe in the future, it’s something to consider…” you mumble, shrugging a little as you give him a glass of coke. “we still have a lot of time to think it over…”

“i would do it.” bill deadpans, making you choke on your own drink. “bill-!” you splutter, hitting your chest a little. “warn a girl.” you half joke, kind of shocked by his words. “what? i would..! i love you.” he shrugs. “marriage… marriage is a big thing- we wouldn’t want to rush it..!” you fluster, taking the pizza box. “for now, let’s decide on what movie we’re gonna watch.” you tell him, listening as he follows you into the kitchen. “don’t tell me he just proposed in the fucking kitchen.” tom exasperates as he sees your flustered face. “no, he didn’t. don’t worry.” you laugh, getting onto the couch next to the other twin. bill flops down next to you, curling close as tom stretches his arms overhead. “good, i’d lose my shit if he did. you deserve better than that.” tom half jokes, nudging you. “we aren’t getting married anytime soon..!” you sigh, watching tom’s eyebrows raise. “but you would?” he asks. “tom-! let’s just pick a movie…” you sigh, giving up on the topic.