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happy74827 · 9 months ago

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Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

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hollyoongs · 4 months ago

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⤷ MY BABY LIKE TO STRING ME US ON!

시놉시스┆ 𝙟ake𝗵͢oon, ─────⠀f!reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +9.9k ꒰ ⌗ smut with plot ꒱ ↷⠀ ℰditoral ! 𓂂

─────⠀cursing, kissing, protected sex, oral (male and female), choking, use of lube (lots of it), fingering (anal and vaginal), double penetration, pet names (baby, princess, pretty, doll, etc), dirty talk (brief), daddy kink, praise kink, spanking (one time, if I remember correctly), squirting and let me know if I missed anything.

You looked at your watch; you could feel the excitement going through your veins as the time went by. After months of saving every penny you could get from your part-time job, you could finally afford tickets to a rock concert of your favorite band, Crimson Eclipse.

The concert had been on your mind for months ever since you saw the post of their official account; your brain was filled with fantasies of screaming along to their songs and losing yourself in the sea of fans, recording every now and then as you could feel your throat hurt from all the singing. And here you were, front row, right in the center. The venue was packed already; people were simply taking selfies, preparing the handmade banners they held, or running to the bathroom, the muffled sound of soundchecks echoing faintly through the heavy doors that made the place more pumped up. You adjusted your outfit—a mini black dress with an oversized leather jacket. It was not the best outfit for a concert, knowing that you would be jumping, and the boots with heels you were wearing also didn’t help at all, but that actually didn’t matter. It was your favorite band’s concert, and you were going to go all out.

You shook your head to erase any negative thoughts and took a picture of the spot you were in, the screen focusing on the stage, and you smiled, already knowing how worth it it was to pay for the first-row ticket. You’ve been a fan of them ever since you saw that recommended video of them at the ripe age of fourteen doing a cover of “Welcome to the Black Parade,” and you were still here, eight, almost nine, years later. It made you proud how far they have gone, winning awards and gaining a lot of recognition and fame, but you saw how they didn’t lose themselves or start disliking what they do, music.

The lights went out, surprising everyone who thought there had been a technical failure, but soon that was cleared by the sound of an electric guitar that alerted you, followed by excited screams that made everyone look around to find the source of the sound. This was the first (and hopefully, last) time the first row was conspiring on your contrary; at least, you could get a view thanks to the heels.

Two guys appeared, and you could help but scream at the very familiar shadow of the dynamic duo, Jay and Sunghoon. The two of them were rocking a new look, black hair, standing back-to-back under a soft spotlight that made them stand out. Both of them moved in different directions, Jay—sporting his signature eyebrow piercing—heading toward the first rows, all this while playing without missing a beat, drawing cheers from the audience. Soon after that small intro, the lights on them vanished, and so did they.

A new spotlight illuminated another person, this time, Heeseung, on the stage. He also had a new hairstyle, silver hair to be exact, with his guitar slung across him. He played with the microphone in his hand, his tongue tracing his lips, a small habit he had whenever he was about to sing that you found endearing the majority of the time. Key word, majority of the time.

"Put your loving hand out, baby…" he sang, all the spotlights coming on to point at the performers.

You glanced at the stage, Jake’s shirtless body welcoming everyone as he was playing with drumsticks, the flirty smirk popping out immediately at the cheer while Jay stood on top of the speakers.

Your loose hair was brushed aside delicately, the touch of unfamiliar lips on your shoulder trailing lower beneath my jaw, making you turn, ready to yell at whoever it was to not let you peacefully check on them, but the words froze in your throat when you realized it was Sunghoon. His lips moved closer to your ear as the cameras of several cellphones were pointed at you, recording the fan service you were receiving.

"I’m beggin’……"

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was the only word running through your mind as you watched the guy walk away from your side and head to the stage with a smirk on his face, most likely pleased by your reaction.

“Fuck, you’re so lucky!” A girl next to you screamed, but you didn’t pay any attention to the glow of her phone recording your dumbfounded expression, too busy processing what just happened. Sunghoon was now standing behind the microphone, his fingers skillfully moving across the bass strings, still wearing that superior smirk that was quickly erased to focus on playing the right chords. Your gaze shifted behind him, and you were hit with a wave of surprise—and an even stronger wave of heat on your cheeks.

Jake was looking at everyone there, soon laying his eyes on you, his exposed tattoos making you trace them with your eyes; sometimes you couldn’t even see them properly because of either one, his flexed arms were moving rhythmically and passionately as he was playing the instrument, or two, that made you lose yourself in the song. His tongue peeked out slightly as he winked at someone in the crowd—or one of the members, occasionally. The piercing in the middle of his lips caught the light, a new piercing.

Yeah, they were going to be your reason to not be alive.

You could physically feel every note they played vibrate through your body—it was the reason why your body matched the energy the band radiated through jumping and singing every lyric. You had only heard the songs through your headphones at a very concerning volume, and even then, their songs caught and captivated you that another band has never done before. But now, performing right in front of you, completely live and giving their all to every song of the setlist, was like entering a whole new world.

The songs were hypnotizing, and they were unstoppable.

You couldn’t define a word to describe Heeseung, but one close to your way of thinking was striking. His black-polished nails contrasting against the silver rings on his fingers and his red microphone in his hands. The butterfly tattoo he recently got on his neck drew the eye, and his gaze never left the crowd, ensuring no one felt left out. You truly can wrap your head around the fact of someone having such charisma; it could be the fact that he was made for the stage, to project everything he had on his mind and connect with people with an ease that seemed almost otherworldly.

Jay, who was dressed in leather and chains with his dark hair falling into his eyes, was the one who brought fire to every performance. Matter of fact, everybody did, but he has this power that pulls the crowd with a single word; his guitar solos could make any room fall silent in awe due to his confidence because, to the fans, every single note he played was a piece of his past, present, and future woven into the strings of his guitar, making even the loudest venues feel intimate, letting them know that it wasn’t only technique but emotion and honesty.

Sunghoon can’t be left out, his hair slicked back, and his ripped jeans left little to the imagination, especially paired with his sleeveless shirt that showed off his defined muscles. He was a whole visual, but his passion for the music and how he can get things done was what made him him. He couldn’t simply exist in the background; he was intensity and precision incarnate, making his stage presence wasn’t about flash—it was about power. It didn’t matter if his fingers danced across the strings, if his voice was being for backup vocals or main; it was that fire in his eyes that was the proof that passion and love could be silent but deafening at the same time.

And Jake, funny enough, he was the heartbeat of the band, his hands always a blur as they commanded the drums with power and precision, channeling the rhythm that kept everything—and everyone—together. His perpetually messy blonde hair with his loose pants, low enough that they showed the ‘Calvin Klein’ elastic, and no shirt was a statement, as if he didn’t need to try hard to turn heads. He was dynamic, a force of nature on stage that was so effortless yet impactful that it made no doubt why he was one of the best artists, along with his brothers.

As you saw all of them three smiling and soaking in the moment, it popped to your mind that they were one of the few bands that weren’t just performing; they were living, breathing, and thriving under the stage lights, and their presence demanded attention, not because they forced it, but because it was impossible to look away. And you would make sure to give them all your attention with proud tears in your eyes.

You could feel your throat getting sore by the minute because of screaming along with the rest of the crowd; your feet were slightly hurting, though that was actually the least of your problems. About five—maybe eight—songs later, the band took a well-deserved break. Everyone started to take out their phones, including yourself, the moment you all saw Heeseung raising his hands to greet the crowd, flashing his perfect row of teeth that had more than a few people sighing in love.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming to our show tonight. Are you having a good time?” he asked. The crowd erupted with various affirmative responses, making the band smile. “That’s a relief to hear. If it’s your first time here, let me introduce ourselves. My name is Heeseung, and I’m the main vocalist and guitarist. To my left is our incredible bassist, Sunghoon; our star guitarist, Jay; and behind us, the best drummer I’ve ever met in my fucking life, Jake.” Each member greeted the crowd in their own way, gaining all the cheers from everyone in the venue.

You turned to see Jake leaning against a speaker with Sunghoon, both of them wiping their sweaty bodies with small towels. The Australian's eyes found yours again, his smirk widening as he caught you staring. He mouthed something—Well, hello there—before taking a swig from his water bottle, something that didn’t go unnoticed by a few fans there, and responding to him, tilting his head back in a way that made your knees weak. Sunghoon leaned in to say something to him, but Jake waved him off with a grin, his focus still locked on you.

“Before we get back to the set, this next song is really special to us; it’s really close to our hearts. Hope you all enjoy it.” Once again, the crowd cheered; now the light was slightly dimmed, leaving a soft blue glow to everyone, an unusual color to use since they only used red lights.

The moment the opening chords were heard, everyone realized it was a new song; you did a small zoom on your phone to only focus on the band, the crowd soon finding themselves swaying to the music, completely captivated by the unreleased song. In the middle of the song, Sunghoon had a bass solo where he got down to interact with the people, going from the back to the front, doing a few stops to interact with as many people as he could. By the time he approached the first row, he stopped in front of you.

Sunghoon knelt down right in front of you, the strap of his bass pressing against his chest as he played with ease, his fingers dancing over the strings and his gaze locking with yours. The corner of his lips quivered into a smirk when he saw the way your mouth hung slightly open, your awe written all over your face due to the talent he had. He leaned closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, not minding the people feeling his exposed arms or grabbing his chest, only you.

Your breath hitched as his smirk got a little wider. Before you could react, he straightened up, still playing, and gave you a wink before moving down the line to interact with other fans. The crowd around went wild, but your heart was pounding too loudly in your ears to care; you laughed in disbelief, forcing yourself back to enjoy the slow rock song. The song ended, and soon, the familiar opening riff of “Karma” blasted through the speakers.

You held your phone high, capturing snippets of the band. Jay took center stage, shredding his guitar like it was an extension of himself, his sharp features illuminated by the flashing lights. Sunghoon and Heeseung joined him at the front; Jake, meanwhile, was behind the drum kit, keeping the tempo tight.

Song after song, the setlist didn’t let anyone down. Fan favorites like “Blockbuster” and “The Walls” both had the entire venue screaming all the lyrics back at them. By the time the band announced their last song, the crowd was buzzing, their energy at its peak. In the middle of everything, you saw how Jay was now the one sitting behind the drums, and Jake picked up another guitar; the surprise on everyone was evident, but considering the fact that Jake was a guitarist who later fell in love with the drums, all of us knew he was not going to disappoint.

“We love you all,” Heeseung said into the microphone, his silver hair damp with sweat. “Thank you for making tonight unforgettable. This last one’s for you. Make some fucking noise!”

The band launched into their closing song, “Shout Out.” Jake and Sunghoon, back to back, played guitar in unison, and Heeseung jumped into the crowd; this was one of the many highlights of the concert. Confetti cannons exploding were the reason the crowd was being showered in glittering red and gold paper. The moment Heeseung went back to the stage, they did their final bows, some of them collecting presents they were being thrown at and others giving the towels they used to clean their sweat by some of the fan requests.

The house lights came on as the band exited the stage, and the crowd began to disperse. You were still on cloud nine when your phone vibrated in your pocket; you answered the call.

“Hey, Da Bi, what’s up?” you said, and you could sense from the other line that she was at a party.

“Y/N, did you forget that today is Sun Hee’s party at the Avalon Club, right?” You opened your eyes wide, already moving through the crowd to go. “Guys, she forgot! Pay me!”

“I’m so sorry; I’m already on my way; I think it’s near, right? I was at the concert.”

“Oh yeah, how was the concert?” You smiled wide at the mention of the concert that you were positive you won’t forget.

“It was incredible,” you said, your voice still hoarse from screaming along to the songs. “I can’t even explain it—everything was perfect. Sunghoon literally stopped right in front of me during his bass solo.”

Da Bi let out a dramatic gasp. “Shut up! Sunghoon? The bassist who looks like he walked straight out of a fantasy novel? You’re kidding!”

“I’m not,” you replied with a laugh. “I think I’m still in shock. And Jake kept looking at me too. I swear, I’m not imagining it.”

Da Bi’s voice rose in excitement. “Okay, now I really need all the details when you get here. You’d better hurry before we drink all the cocktails without you.”

“I’m on it,” you said, weaving your way through the dispersing crowd. “Save me something fruity, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you quickly pulled up directions to Avalon Club on your phone. It wasn’t too far—a ten-minute walk at most. You adjusted your bag, made sure your phone still had enough charge, and joined the stream of concertgoers heading toward the main exit.

The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. The streets were alive with post-concert energy, people chatting excitedly about the show or taking pictures with their newly bought merch. You caught sight of a food truck nearby and briefly considered grabbing a snack but decided against it. Sun Hee’s party wasn’t something you could casually walk into late.

As you hurried down the sidewalk, your phone buzzed again. This time it was a message from Da Bi.

Da Bi: The DJ is killing it tonight. Don’t make me send Sun Hee to drag you here!

You laughed under your breath and picked up the pace. The distant thrum of bass from Avalon Club grew louder with each step, and because your tension was too high, you were ready to make your friend happy.

When you finally reached the club, you could see a line of people waiting to get in, the neon sign glowing bright against the night sky. You spotted Da Bi near the entrance, waving frantically when she saw you.

“You made it!” she said, pulling you into a quick hug. “Come on, let’s get inside before Sun Hee loses her mind.”

“Lead the way,” you said with a grin, already feeling the infectious energy of the music pulling you in. Since it was late, about to be eleven p.m., there were more people than usual.

Now that you really took a look at the place, it was packed; the music was pounding through your chest as you and Da Bi weaved through the throng of bodies on the dance floor, the diverse color lights pulsed to the beat, casting an almost hypnotic glow over the crowd. You could see how you two were spotted almost immediately from the VIP section by the birthday girl, waving wildly at the sight of you and your—hopefully—future girlfriend. She wore a sparkly silver dress that shimmered with the minimum movement she made, a drink in her hand and a contagious smile on her face.

“Finally!” Sun Hee exclaimed as you approached, pulling you into a hug. “You’re lucky we love you, or I would’ve sent someone to drag you here myself.”

“I’m sorry, but I have an amazing excuse. The concert was insane,” you replied, laughing as Da Bi pushed a fruity cocktail into your hand and, with his free one, grabbed Da Bi’s hand.

“Drink first, details later,” Da Bi declared, already swaying to the music.

You took a sip, the sweetness and tang refreshing after the rush to get here; you greeted Da Bi’s friends to not be disrespectful. The music shifted to a more upbeat track, and soon the three of you were lost in the rhythm, dancing without a care in the world. Sun Hee’s party was in full swing, complete with a table laden with drinks and snacks for the group.

There was a moment where Sun Hee was almost grinding between you and Da Bi, already drunk enough to even grab you from your neck. Some of the party invites were doing a circle around us, enjoying the show with their own partners or some random person they met at the club. You looked to your left, and you thought that the alcohol on your head was making you create scenarios in relation to what happened at the concert, but when you saw one of them raising his hand right in your direction, you knew you were not losing your mind.

At the corner of the VIP section, you saw Jake with a girl on his lap kissing his neck, his hooded eyes locked with your body and his hand waving at you. You returned the greeting and saw Sunghoon. He was seated beside Jake, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid swirling as he tilted it slightly. His sharp gaze was piercing, trailing over your form with intensity. The shadows that the club lights created accentuated his features—his jawline sharp enough to cut, his lips pressed into a faint smirk, only looking away to some fans that recognized them and wanted a sign.

Your eyes went back to Jake, and when he realized that, his smirk deepened as he leaned back further, the girl on his lap completely unaware of the silent exchange happening between you two. Looking around, you found Heeseung and Jay playing drinking games. He whispered something into Sunghoon's ear, making him giggle, and their eyes never left yours, as if daring you to keep looking.

“Holy shit,” Da Bi whispered, her eyes wide and noticing the guys you were looking at. “Are they…?”

“Yes,” you said, barely able to get the word out, mostly because you don’t want them to have the idea that you’re stalking them.

“Okay, now you’re just living in a fantasy,” Da Bi muttered, shaking her head in disbelief as her grip tightened around Sun Hee’s waist.

You turned back to her, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I swear, I didn’t plan this!”

“Well, if this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is,” Sun Hee said, nudging you, her tipsy self still finding the way to speak. “Now, are we going to give them a show or what? Kiss me since you didn’t bring a present."

You looked at Da Bi, and she nodded, giving you the green light to grab the back of Sun Hee’s neck and put your lips together; the euphoria of the moment even made Da Bi not have a care in the world and roam with her hands over the birthday girl's body while kissing her neck.

The crowd around you was eating it up, and you were almost positive that you didn’t have to glance over to know Jake and Sunghoon were still watching—if you act cocky, it is obvious.

Sun Hee broke the kiss with a mischievous laugh, her eyes gleaming as she turned to Da Bi, pulling her into the moment as well, kissing her with passion. The three of you danced together, hands roaming, bodies swaying in sync with the beat. When you finally dared to look back at the VIP section, Jake’s expression was unreadable, and so was Sunghoon's. The girl on his lap was trying to get Jake’s attention by showing more of her cleavage with her hands caressing his chest, but his focus was solely on you. He tilted his head slightly, as if to say, ‘Keep going.’.

Sunghoon, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on his thigh while the other one played with the back of his neck. His eyes were sharp, following every move you made; he soon reached out to take another sip of his glass, his lips curling into a subtle smirk when your gaze locked with his.

Da Bi leaned close to your ear, her voice barely audible over the music. “Just in case! There are free rooms upstairs!”

You laugh, already knowing what your friend was trying to say. “You’re out of your mind.”

She grinned, nudging you playfully. “You’ve got their attention. Just in case you want to take them both.”

You rolled your eyes at Da Bi's cheeky comment, though your lips curved into a sly grin at the thought of it. "Both? That's ambitious, even for me."

"Oh, fuck off! Don't act like you don't want it. You're practically making them beg from up here." Sun Hee said, looking at you before giving a quick look to the club. "Look, the girl from Jake's lap set off! Go get them!"

"Sun Hee, they are celebrities, and they are already taking pictures of them! If they see me going with even one of them, it’s most likely that they will get my address in no time. Please forget it." You decided to give your attention to Sun Hee, who was dancing with her friends, and you joined in with the iconic Big Bang song ‘Fantastic Baby.’. From the corner of your eye, you saw how Da Bi disappeared.

You stopped dancing when you saw how drunk Sun Hee was and how she was tripping with nothing but her feet, taking her hand so she could sit down at your separate VIP section. Da Bi started looking for the two of you; you caught her attention by putting your hands up in a waving motion. She quickly came, and you decided to go to the bar, coming back soon after with a bottle of water for Sun Hee.

"Where did you go?" You screamed so she could hear you as you sat down beside Da Bi.

"I went to the person that plays with the lights; they will turn them off and play for like half an hour with the colored lights."

"Are you out of your mind?! Why did you do that?!" Da Bi rolled her eyes as her palm touched your exposed thigh; you could also see how the alcohol was getting to her as she did a small giggle and forgot what she was about to say.

"So you can get down with both of them; when was the last time you had really good sex?" Sun Hee entered the conversation. "And if I’m being honest… I want to fuck Da Bi." You opened your eyes but soon laughed about it.

"You two are insane." You laughed, and just like Da Bi said, the lights turned off to make an entrance to the colored lights, distracting people as more bottles came their way.

"Go grab those sticks and sign that NDA; make us proud!" Da Bi made you stand up and slapped your ass. You walked a few steps before looking back at them; they were already making out, so you had no other choice but to go.

You started to walk to the bar for a shot of vodka to make you even braver to do anything with them; the liquid burned, but at least it did the work to calm your nerves. You exhaled deeply; the calm came to you in contrast to the wild environment you were in. People were coming from left to right to the bar, and soon, a person sat on the free chair next to you.

"You look like you've got something on your mind." His voice was loud enough to make you listen. You knew that voice like the palm of your hand, of course you did. The nerves came back when you saw Jake, leaning casually against the bar and close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the vodka in your second glass before drinking it all, the feeling a little more tolerable than before. “It's not very often that a person of your favorite group looks at you too much and comes to talk to you. You know?"

"You grabbed my eyes at the concert. Did you enjoy the show, by the way?" The smoothness of Jake’s voice near your ear when he decided to move closer captivated you. It was not the first time you heard his voice, but having it near you was such a different thing. Because of the closure between the two of you, you could see how his shirt was open just enough to tease the edge of a tattoo on his collarbone, smirking at the memory of him being shirtless in the show.

“You guys were unforgettable. You sang my favorite songs.” Your comment made Jake chuckle, not in a funny manner, but in a proud one.

“Good. I’d hate to think all the effort went unnoticed.” You got brave enough to create a small distance between the two of you, if it was possible, noticing how his gaze dipped and looked at your lips, lingering just long enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Sorry about him; he likes to flirt a lot.” A loud voice appeared, and by the smile on Jake’s face, you could think it was Sunghoon, and sure it was, once your head turned around to the direction of the voice. Your eyes met, and Sunghoon gave a side smile, a very common gesture of his. “I’m Sunghoon.”

“I already know that, but it's really nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You grabbed his extended hand when you noticed it, his thumb caressing the top of it before letting it go. “I’m a fan since your MCR YouTube covers.”

Sunghoon’s smile now grew bigger, his characteristic shy smile with his fangs showing up and a genuine smile from Jake. “Wow, it’s been a while since we’ve heard that.”

“We’re lucky then; thank you for sticking around this long.” Jake said, and you grab another shot on your way, drinking it all at once and ordering some for Jake and Sunghoon. The moment they arrive, you point at them.

“Thank you for drinking these shots,” you teased, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. The bartender gave you six shots; the boys looked at each other before drinking three each of them. The DJ changed the music, people practically screaming when the speakers were blasting “Don’t Stop The Music” by Rihanna. You stood up and walked a few steps away before turning to them. “Wanna dance?”

“Who are you asking?” Sunghoon said, pointing at him and later, Jake.

“To both of you.” You tilted your head to look at them both, and Jake stood up from his chair. You went a little deeper into the crowd, and soon you felt a presence behind you. Jake gave you a smirk before grabbing your hips, and Sunghoon found his way in front of you, and your drunk self wrapped your arms behind his neck.

All the people were stuck together, and the sultry rhythm made you feel both of their bodies so close to you that you locked eyes with Sunghoon again, and just like Jake minutes before, his gaze went to your glossy lips and right back to your eyes.

“You don’t have to be shy,” you teased; your voice was just loud enough to be heard over the music.

One of his hands left your waist and directly moved your hair aside to speak directly through your ear. “I don’t think I am. We just don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or forced to do anything.”

“You both don’t make me feel any of those things. You two make me feel good". You gave a small laugh after the double senses of your last sentence, gaining a small smile from him as he noticed your voice steady and sure despite the alcohol.

“We can make you feel good.” Sunghoon’s hand on your waist traced imaginary figures on your sides; your right hand travelled sensually from his shoulder to the back of his head, softly grabbing some of his hair, a dominant move from your part.

“You have permission to prove it,” the words left your mouth, and his hand threw your hair back completely before giving a small bite on your ear, making you shut your eyes as you sighed. He started to pamper kisses from the back of your ear to your neck, feeling how he suctioned softly a couple of times and gaining soft moans from you, throwing your head back and falling on Jake’s chest in the process when he found a specific spot on your neck.

Jake watched everything, and you could tell how he was enjoying it fully; he saw how you opened your eyes to connect with his eyes, and you grabbed his right hand to put it right on the front of your neck, feeling the coolness of his rings making a contrast with your warm skin.

“Kiss me.” You didn’t have to tell him twice when his lips crashed with yours, and it was everything you expected as the moment was turning more intimate—intense, dirty, and needy. His hand tightened slightly around your neck as the kiss deepened, slightly limiting the oxygen you were breathing while feeling the coolness of your middle lip piercing. Sunghoon didn’t stop either; his hands went slowly to your ass, squishing the flesh of it as he was watching, slowly losing all self-control. All three had lust in their eyes.

The moment Jake left your lips, he made your head turn to Sunghoon, your hand flying to the back of his head again as he kissed you. His kiss was more sensual, he was practically savoring the moment, but when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip in a way to seek permission, it became rougher losing it when he sucked your tongue, and action that you secretly loved, his lips catching the sinful moan you gave to him. Now, you could feel Jake’s plump lips attacking the other side of your neck, and you smiled in the middle of the kiss.

Sunghoon bit your bottom lip, sighing at your state, his left hand stopping on your face to caress your cheek, watching your swollen lips and cleaning some of the saliva from the corner of your lips; you quickly wrapped your lips around his thumb when he touched your bottom lip with a teasing smirk playing on your face. The sudden move made Sunghoon's brows raise, his lips curving into a cocky grin.

“You look like a dream.” Sunghoon said, and Jake hummed in response.

“I look even better naked.” You didn’t want to sound like a ‘pick me,’ but if there was a chance to actually have them both by the end of the night, you wouldn’t waste it.

“Sunghoon, go to the manager so he can rent the room above us.” Since Jake was the oldest, he nodded and went to find him, making his way quietly in the crowd so he couldn't be seen. You and Jake made your way to a nonvisible corner following Sunghoon with the same caution as his friend, who ended up talking to one person that you recognize as the manager.

The club was still dark, green lights flashing every now and then with the beat of electronic music. Jake leaned casually against the wall of the reached corner, diving back to your lips and kissing you slowly, not trying to rush things despite having your approval. His hand was going south, handfully grabbing your ass while yours went to his shirt, undoing one button.

“All done; we can go to the room.” Sunghoon’s voice interrupted the moment, all three going through the hidden stairs to the last room of the hallway between laughs and slight touches. With a key, Sunghoon opened the door, making you enter first, the both of them joining right after.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the low thrum of the club music faded into a distant hum. Your hands were instantly placed on each side of your jacket, removing it and tossing it to an individual couch in the room, not noticing that Sunghoon was also taking his leather jacket off his body to leave it on a table as well as his rings. Jake came closer to you, his hand reaching for yours to put your chests together.

“Are you sure about this?” You could tell he asked for both of them, but you had already planted the idea in your head.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Sunghoon approaches you after a few moments, his hands finding your waist as he draws you in for another kiss, hearing Jake scoffing at the action. You felt how his kiss was slow until it became rough like the one you had on the dance floor. Despite the heat that was radiating from both of you, his hands felt cold when they went to lower the back zipper of your dress, yours going immediately to his belt.

Jake’s presence loomed behind you, his hands brushing along your arms before resting on your hips. “Don’t get greedy, Hoon.” Jake’s breath was hot against your ear, and before going down your neck, you felt the cool air touch your back when Sunghoon successfully zipped down the dress and Jake let the fabric fall to the floor in a soft heap.

Sunghoon went directly to your back, separating Jake slightly, feeling how your bra got loose in a quick motion. You took the end of his white shirt, taking it off him with his help; meeting his unknown belly button piercing, a small gasp left your mouth. Usually, men will only have the traditional piercing, the two dots, but you will never imagine seeing a silver cross-shaped, dangling belly button piercing. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. When the fuck did he get that?

“Not what you expected?” You denied it, and your hands went to his small waist, fingers lingering on the pretty jewelry.

“But it suits you.” You smiled as you made a 180° turn to face the Aussie boy, clamming his lips in a kiss. His hands softly gripping your breasts and smiling in delight with how you made them know how good they were making you feel, just like they said. You could feel Sunghoon's hand playing with the strings of your thong, snapping the elastic to your skin, making you grow desperate due to his little game.

"Fuck, just take it off," the exasperation was very noticeable by the tone you used, the sound of how SUnghoon spanked your ass resonated in unison with your gasp.

"Easy, baby." Jake guided you to sit on his lap on the edge of the bed, his erection trying to get out of his pants, but you were getting distracted by how Sunghoon kneeled in front of you. "Let me take your shoes off."

He took your heel boots easily and put them away; his hands caressed your legs from your ankles to your thighs, his lips leaving kisses in the process. You threw your head back to Jake's shoulders the moment his veiny hands grabbed once again your tits, his index and thumb playing with your nipples. All the sensations you were experiencing were embarrassingly noticeable on your underwear, sticking into your cunt.

Sunghoon’s hands slid higher up your thighs, not being able to see the mischievous glint in his eyes due to Jake abusing every spot on your neck. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just enough to make you shiver. Sunghoon’s fingers hooked into the sides of your thong, pulling it down slowly, his eyes never leaving your entrance. The fabric slid down your legs, and he tossed it aside, his hands returning to your thighs to spread them gently.

He trailed kisses higher and higher, causing small shivers through your entire body, a reason why Jake's hands moved down your waist to hold you steady the moment you squirmed at the sensation of Sunghoon's tongue against your core; moans falling from your mouth when his fingers went deep in you, stretching you out.

"You're so responsive," Jake said, his left arm hugging your body as the other hand went again to one of your nipples to pinch it, trembling at the combination. "You will hold your orgasm; can you do that for us?"

“Y-yes, I can, just… don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” You could only nod since your voice caught in your throat as Sunghoon continued his work, alternating between slow, almost teasing strokes and firm fingering. "Sunghoon, let me."

You whined when Jake stood up and left you with your legs open; he lowered himself to the same level as your wet cunt and eagerly licked a long strip, collecting as much as he could of your arousal to make a stop on your clit. You laid down completely on the bed in a moaning mess, incoherent words coming from you that you couldn’t even understand when Sunghoon's tongue joined, fucking you as deep as he could. Both of your hands went to their heads to create a grip on their hairlocks; Jake hummed to your action, the vibration of it causing that familiar knot to almost snap.

“Please stop, please, please.” You were begging at this point; Sunghoon separated from you with his fingers inside you this time, curling them to touch that sweet spot that you sometimes couldn’t even reach yourself.

"You better give me a good reason," he said, nonstopping his movements and even making them faster. Your moans got higher as you tried to speak, looking for the perfect timing.

"I want to cum on your dicks." Your comment made both guys freeze for a moment, their eyes meeting over your trembling form. Jake let out a low chuckle, and his hand brushed your hair away from your face with his mouth and chin glistening from eating you out. “Please, daddies.”

You truly didn’t know what got into you; the word simply slipped out, tumbling from your lips before your brain could catch up. The room went silent, and a heavy tension hung in the air. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you froze, unsure whether to apologize or fake yourself passing out, but that last one would be too pathetic.

Jake’s hands guided you to sit down, and he walked straight to you. Your hair was formed into a messy ponytail by Jake. To make you look up, you gasped at the sweet feel of the slight pain that caused. “Be a good girl and help Daddy out, then.” Your hands travelled fast to his belt and boxers, hissing the moment he saw your doe eyes looking at his hooded ones with your hand wrapping his dick.

Sunghoon went to one of the drawers, and after some searching, he came to your spot and threw condoms and a half-empty lube.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Jake." You hand-wrapped around his length, his head being thrown back when you put a certain amount of pressure. You looked back; Sunghoon was almost naked, his black boxers still on, not helping with hiding his erection. "Let me help you so you can join."

With your free hand, you grabbed the elastic and took them down with his help. Sunghoon's dick had slightly more girth than Jake's, but the same length. He stood up next to him, your free hand positioned on Sunghoon’s hip before you left a kitty lick on his tip, being rewarded by Sunghoon’s soft groan.

You started slow movements, your hands sliding up and down their lengths, enjoying the way their breaths hitched and their eyes showed you how much they liked it. Jake’s hips bucked slightly into your touch, making you lean forward to put your lips together around Jake’s tip, swirling your tongue and earning a sharp intake of breath. Sunghoon groaned softly, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” You heard Jake moan, so you went a little bit deeper, his hand not wasting time to put it behind your head, grabbing your hair in a messy ponytail to see how you fully took him. You took him deeper, his tip touching the back of your throat and making yourself gag around him, the vibrations causing his body to shake slightly and hold Sunghoon’s shoulder, who was also losing his mind. You were bobbing your head up and down, and the hand that was on Sunghoon’s length followed the slightly fast pace you were creating.

After a few more minutes of controlling his orgasm, you turned your attention to Sunghoon, taking him into your mouth as you continued to pump Jake. And just like Jake, his hand went directly to do the same messy ponytail.

“G-God, this feels… s-so good.” An idea popped out in your brain as you took him out of your mouth; hearing him whimpering was not something you expected, but it did make you even wetter for both of them. “P-Please, go deeper.”

You let him go out of your mouth as you spat on it for extra lubrication, “You mean like this?” You focused on breathing through your nose, relaxing your throat in the process as you took him deeper; Sunghoon’s hips bucked forward, hitting that little bell that actually made your eyes water.

“Fuck, y-yes, baby. Don’t stop, please.” Time passed, and you saw Sunghoon's polite facade turning off; the back of your head still got his hand behind it, with the difference that he was going deeply and roughly, trying to release himself. He was about to speak out when you once again took him out of your mouth but soon created a small choir of moans and groans when you made his and Jake’s dicks be placed right next to each other as you pathetically tried to suck on their tips, the corners of your mouths hurting.

You were going back and forth, hearing them praising you, only motivating you to suck them off even more; their moans grew louder, and that was your cue to stop. You looked up to meet their eyes. “Someone please sit on the bed.”

Sunghoon was faster as he sat on the bed, taking the condoms and lube to his side. You crawled right on top of him, his tip touching your wet entrance at the action. You initiated a kiss; he was tasting himself through that kiss, feeling that he liked it when his hand went to the back of your neck, tongues touching and creating even more wet sounds.

“Are you going to keep sucking me, baby?” Jake’s voice made its way into the room; you looked around and grabbed the lube in your hand. He was confused at first, but soon opened his eyes when he realized what you intended to do. “Holy fuck, you want to kill me.”

Jake gave a small peck on your lips before going behind you; his hands gripped your hips, making you position yourself on all fours; the coolness of the lube touched your anus. While Jake dedicated himself to spreading and combining the lube with your arousal, Sunghoon took your face to pamper kisses. This time, they were sweet enough to distract you, locking his eyes with yours.

"How can I make you relax better, princess?" you thought about it, smiling softly at him.

"How about a 69?" The moment his lips went to your cunt at first, you could tell how much of a munch guy he was, like it was a life-or-death mission to leave you empty. Sunghoon smiled, both of you getting comfortable at the position.

You got once again his pretty dick in front of you; the red color of the base was evident, the tip shining due to the precum that you wanted to lick. You felt his kisses once again in your inner thighs, his thick fingers pushing into the skin of your ass, spreading it apart for him and Jake.

"I'm going to finger you first. Can you relax for me, baby?" Jake's voice was deeper than before. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as Jake's voice resonated in your ears.

Sunghoon was utterly absorbed, his lips and tongue working on you like a starving man, his fingers gripping behind your thighs for a moment before going back to your ass, holding you steady as you took him in your mouth.

Jake’s fingers traced teasing circles, spreading the lube evenly while ensuring you adjusted to the sensation. You sat for a moment on Sunghoon's face, and Jake took that opportunity to lean in closer, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he murmured, "Let me know if it's too much, baby. We want you to be comfortable."

You went back to being on all fours, licking Sunghoon's tip again before going all in and sucking him off, his moans vibrating right on your cunt.

"I want you to breathe for me, baby." You did what he said, feeling his fingertip barely pressing against the tight ring of muscle, giving you time to adjust. "You're doing so well, such a good girl." His praise made you wetter, arousal that Sunghoon licked every time.

"F-fuck, princess. Please take me deeper." You heard Sunghoon's whiny voice, so pretty, and you took it as you could, gagging around him and gaining a small spank. "Shit, sorry."

"Please do it again, Hoon." You said it was embarrassing how much you liked it and how you didn’t even think of what you were about to say, like you did this whole night. Your mind was out of it in pleasure. His palm spanked the plush skin of your ass again, more arousal creating on your entrance.

Jake's hand tightened on your hips, his fingers moving in a slow but deep rhythm, coaxing your body to adjust to his touch. You moaned softly around Sunghoon's length, your focus split between Jake's patient teasing and Sunghoon's growing desperation.

Sunghoon let out a deep groan, his mouth taking deep breaths to rest for a moment. “You’re doing so well, princess. Look at you, so pretty with your mouth full of me.” His voice was strained, trembling with need as your tongue worked over him.

His words sent a shiver through you as Jake's fingers finally pushed deeper, carefully allowing you to adjust once again to the sensation. Your body tensed at first, but the combination of Sunghoon’s tongue on your clit and Jake’s soothing words eased you into the moment.

“Relax, baby,” Jake whispered, “You’re taking me so well. Just breathe.”

You moaned around Sunghoon, your body relaxing as you followed Jake’s guidance. Sunghoon’s hand tightened in your ass, his breaths coming faster as he tried to hold back. “F-fuck, Y/N, you’re going to make me lose it.”

Jake chuckled softly behind you, his tone filled with both amusement and desire. “Not yet, Hoon. Let’s make this last.”

Jake added a second finger, stretching you; his other hand trailed up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake and feeling how he pushed you down, making you gag around Sunghoon. Sunghoon’s hips bucked slightly against your lips, and you responded by hollowing your cheeks, taking him even deeper.

Jake's fingers began to thrust once he saw you moving your ass towards him, and Sunghoon went back to thrusting your entrance with his tongue. You had to stop sucking Sunghoon to let all the moans and gasps free.

"Fuck, d-daddies." You put your hands on Sunghoon's thighs for support, feeling your legs shaking. "You two are so good for me, shit!"

Jake's pace quickened to drive you to the edge, and Sunghoon was unwilling to let you catch your breath as he groaned against your core as his tongue thrust deeper, his lips teasing every sensitive spot.

“Look at you,” Jake murmured, his voice husky and low as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. “Such a needy little slut for us. Tell me how much you love it.”

“I—ah—I love it so much, Daddy.” You managed to gasp, your voice shaking with pleasure. “You’re both—fuck—so good.”

Sunghoon chuckled against you as he focused on pulling every last sound out of you. “You taste so good,” he said between licks, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t hold back. We want to hear from you, baby.”

Your body trembled, your knees threatening to give you out as the sensation was consuming you. Jake’s fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust, while Sunghoon’s fingers pounded in and suctioned on your clit. You cried out, your head falling back as your pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

“Daddy, I’m so close,” you whimpered, your fingers digging into Sunghoon’s thighs as your legs quivered.

Jake’s fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. Sunghoon stopped his movements, mesmerized by how your pussy was clenching around nothing, eager to have someone inside you. Sunghoon separated you from his body; to sit properly with his back touching the bed headboard, he reached for a condom, ripping the packaging off and sliding the condom through his dick, twitching due to the sensitivity.

You crawled to him, lips kissing as you tasted yourself; your hand reached to his throat and applied pressure on it, an action that made him groan. You separate from him as you look at him.

“You also like that, huh?” Your teasing came flat as his hand went to your throat while his free one went directly to your pussy; you jumped as he inserted two fingers inside you.

“Don’t test me.” He lost his grip and kissed you back, no stopping his movements. You got on your knees on top of him when he stopped; he aligned himself in your entrance, and you slowly got lower, not holding the loud moan at feeling of finally being filled. In the meantime, Jake also put on a condom and went behind you, aligning himself as he also went inside you slowly; both of your holes were filled, and it was like all three were touching heaven in every way.

A few moments later, it was you who started to move as you could before they started thrusting into you; by their gasp of air and incoherent words that would leave from their throats, it was clear that they were enjoying it as much as you were as they moved in perfect unison, somehow synchronizing with the rhythm of your trembling form.

You were so wet that it was easy for both of them to go faster than before, touching spots that you never thought you had, their trust growing more confident, each one coaxing gasps and cries from your lips that only encouraged them further.

“Look at me, pretty,” Sunghoon's voice entered your ears, your blurry vision focusing on him as much as you could; his mullet was messy, swollen lips from the kissing and biting his lower lip, and eyes hooded from all the ecstasy he was feeling, “A pretty doll losing her mind for our cocks, right?”

“Y-yes! You fuck me so good.” you said, motivating the two of them as they went even faster, if that could be possible. “Daddy! I’m going to cum.”

Your walls unconsciously clenched around Sunghoon the moment Jake went deeper, stimulating even more the coil that they were creating. Sunghoon was now the first to stop; it took you back a little, but even more how he turned you around. You were now facing Jake’s fucked-out expression; Jake shared almost the same expression as Sunghoon, with the difference of his glossy eyes, the pleasure even being too much for him.

You felt how Sunghoon’s dick made its way to your wet ring muscle, occupying Jake’s spot. Jake could see how your eyes rolled and your mouth opened to let out the prettiest whines and moans, his mind already making scenarios of that same expression as he entered inside you.

He pumped his painfully hard dick before pushing himself inside you with ease; the double penetration was fast from the beginning. Your hands were extended behind you for support, and Sunghoon’s hands held you steady as Jake’s fast movements created friction for all of them; the bed was moving because of the mingling with the symphony of breathless moans and whispered praises.

“I—I need to cum! Please, daddies, let me cum.” You started to beg, an action that made Jake smile with cockiness.

“Let go, baby. You deserve it.” Sunghoon whispered in your ear, one of his hands going directly to your clit. “Let me help you.”

His fingers moved as fast on your bundle of nerves, and the coil inside you unraveled, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your cries filled the room, your squirt making a mess in all of you three.

“Let’s leave her empty, Jake.” And they sure did that until the last drop of squirt left your body, both of them guiding you through the overwhelming sensation. Sunghoon followed soon after, his lips on your hips tightening as he reached his peak, a deep groan escaping his lips. Jake was the last to fall, his head resting on the curve that connected your neck and shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

You felt even more empty when they let go of you, their condoms full of their semen as they threw them in the trash after they did a knot in them. The three of you collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap, the aftermath of what happened leaving you breathless and content. You passed your hands to your face, knowing that your mascara definitely was ruined and you looked a mess.

Sunghoon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as Jake’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, basking in the after in the quiet room.

“This is probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.” Jake said, making you and Sunghoon laugh.

“Glad I could make that happen,” you said, taking your hand to his cheek and leaving a small peck on his lips.

“And this is our first time having sex with a fan, or having a threesome in general.” Sunghoon’s comment shocked you, feeling a surge of pride due to his comment. You smiled shyly.

“I’m also glad to be your two firsts on that.”

Jake chuckled, pulling you closer into the warmth of his chest. “Well, you’ve definitely set the bar pretty damn high. I don’t think anyone could top this.”

Sunghoon smirked, propping himself up on one elbow as his fingers traced absentminded circles along your arm. “We should’ve done this sooner. But…” He hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with Jake. “There’s one small thing we need to take care of.”

“Signing an NDA?” you said with a smile, resting importance on it. “I can give your manager my number so he can deliver the paper. Or do you do that online?”

Sunghoon laughed softly at your comment, shaking his head. “Not exactly the romantic pillow talk I had in mind, but yeah, we need you to sign an NDA. It’s not personal, just… well, you know how things can get.”

Jake leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “We trust you, but this is more for everyone’s peace of mind. You understand, right?”

“Of course,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “I get it completely. I’d probably do the same if I were in your position.” You reached over to the bedside table for your phone, all of your phones were there thanks to Sunghoon, who stood up and grab all of them three. “So, how does this work? Should I text my info to your manager?”

Sunghoon tilted his head, clearly impressed by your level-headed response. “We’ll handle it. Our team can send it to you digitally, or if you’re comfortable, we can go over it together before you leave.”

Jake gave a lopsided grin. “Thank you for taking it well. Most people would freak out or make it awkward.”

“I don’t plan on ruining the best night of my life by overthinking,” you said, smirking. “Plus, I kind of expected this. It’s not like I can go around bragging about having a threesome with my favorite artist.”

They both laughed, and the tension in the air eased. Sunghoon leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thanks for understanding. We’ll make it quick and painless.”

Jake grabbed his phone too, scrolling through it for a moment. “I’ll shoot a message to our manager and let him know. They’ll probably have it ready in a few minutes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the surreal nature of the situation. Here you were, tangled in the sheets with two idols, discussing legal documents. “This has to be the strangest post-sex conversation I’ve ever had.”

“Well, it’s a first for us too,” Sunghoon admitted, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I think it’s safe to say this was worth it.”

Jake nodded in agreement, setting his phone down as he pulled you both closer. “Definitely worth it. And who knows? Maybe we’ll need to renegotiate the terms if we ever want to do this again.”

─── DON'T MIND ME, I <3 ROCKSTARS! I really got into it, hope this is a good enough blog to come back to enhablr, sorry if it's too long, got carried away as you saw. any grammar mistakes will be solved later!

𓄴 𝐓aglist (mostly moots!): @hheeluv @awqken @taeghi @caratstick @021894s @hees-love @heechwe @yangkkomi @dollyyun @wwooyology @ja3yun @v1rtu4ld0ll @firstclassjaylee

#𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝑦𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠! ৎ ˚⋅#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #jake x reader #jake smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines

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ihangelic · 5 months ago

Text

PAS DE PUNK ╱ h.taesan

you and taesan go together like classical music and rock: not at all. but similar to the way taesan keeps getting piercings, there’s something about the way he gets under your skin that you kind of like— and you’re too proud to admit why you keep coming back for more.

pair ; punk!taesan x ballerina!reader

genre ; smut (with plot), fluff?, rock band au, enemies to lovers

warnings ; fem!reader, taesan has piercings (including tongue), arguing (flirting), some jealousy, ‘make me shut up’ kiss, confessing of feelings, petnames (mostly princess), lots of mentions of taesan’s hands & rings, dom!taesan, bratty/sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degr*dation, bre*st play, begging, a little sp*nking, no prep, piv

wc ; 8k

playlist ; smells like teen spirit by nirvana / sugar we’re goin down by fall out boy / a little death by the neighbourhood / punk rock princess by something corporate / she’s kinda hot by 5sos / good girl by thomas larosa / s*xtape by deftones / closer by nine inch nails / all i really want is you by the marías

✉️ 𓂃 ₊��⊹ note ; happy new year!! idk if it’s unhinged to make a playlist for a smut fic but i couldn’t help myself ><. i avoided using lesser-known ballet terms for non-dancers to understand (aka me), but also tried to make it enjoyable for dancers to read. hopefully i was successful lol.

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

dancing along with the music of l’oiseau bleu is practically impossible when it sounds like a rock concert is taking place in the room just across from you.

lowering to stand flat footed in your pointe shoes, you raise your hands to your face, pinching your nose bridge in frustration as you try and resist the growing urge to pull your hair out.

the obnoxious sound of drums, a bass’s low rumble, and an electric guitar’s higher tune rings in your ears— drowning out any of your more rational thoughts until you’re left with only rage.

you try your best to block it out, to take a moment to breathe and try to get a controlled hold over your emotions— and you think it may work after you cover your ears with your own hands, the sound of the instruments still audible but sounding more distant. then the teeth gritting noise of a cymbal pierces through the barrier of your hands and it’s almost like it’s a sound effect for the way your train of thought shatters, letting out a sigh that sounds much more like an animalistic scream before stomping over to your phone and turning off the music.

power walking out of the dance studio and to the very unfortunately placed neighboring rental space, you don’t even have to turn the knob as you look through the glass door. the raging bitch face you wear is absolutely effortless as you mean-mug all three ‘problems’ in the room; ‘problems’ that drip in leather, distressed or patched fabric, spikes, and way too oversized jeans. you’re about to feel acquainted with the three men as this situation seems to occur more and more often.

foam panels are stuck to the walls; black cords are neatly coiled or in squiggly lines across the floor; and of course there’s guitars, a drum set, and microphones everywhere.

finally you catch the eyes of the long, blond haired drummer— and that gives you enough incentive to open the door and barge in like you own the place.

“could you be any louder?” you rhetorically ask, but it goes unheard as two of the men sing passionately into their microphones, eyes closed and hands working the strings of their guitars while the drummer keeps playing his drums— all while staring at you with a relaxed, barely inquisitive face.

“could you be any louder!” you shout, the end of the sentence awkwardly fading in volume when there's a screech from one of the guitars and everything goes quiet.

the two seeming vocalists turn their heads to look at you, all three men now staring while you stand, clearly bothered as your hands are on both sides of your hips and your chest heaves with deep breaths of frustration.

“well…” the dark haired, taller one begins— and your expression only sours more as you’re already familiar with how snarky and full of himself he can be. “you’re the one yelling.”

you let out an appalled scoff, unable to help the way your eyes roll as you’re angered even more by how that only seems to make the man smirk.

“if someone has to yell just for you to hear them that means you’re the loud one.”

“you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quirking a pierced brow. your impending explosive response must be visible as the shorter statured one interrupts for damage control.

“w— we’re sorry!” he starts, speaking on his friends behalves. the blond’s expression never changes as he stares at your fuming face, while the darker haired looks like he’s about to protest— but the other continues before he has the chance. “look..we got off on the wrong foot and…”

the way his hands float in front of him, bass hanging against his chest by the strap— it only adds to how lost he looks on what to do, and it makes you feel kind of bad. (for him at least.)

you’re about to start apologizing when he’s suddenly reaching his hand out towards you.

“i’m riwoo.” he introduces, then gestures over to the other two men. “this is taesan and leehan.”

“…y/n” you say somewhat sheepishly, a bit of your shame coming back at the politeness of the bassist you now know as riwoo.

previously you’d only knock aggressively at their door to ask them to shut up, a few times popping your head in when that didn’t work to snappily ask them to please try and keep it down at least a little. you’ve never actually had a full conversation with them before— or an argument...whatever this exchange of words could be classified as.

“unfortunately we can’t really be any quieter. we have to practice for a gig we got coming up—“

“isn’t your little dance school supposed to be closed now anyway?” taesan abruptly interrupts, yet again grinding your gears with the snarky way he says the words ‘dance school’.

“it’s closed for classes, but the rooms can be used for practice up until eleven pm.” you provide smartly, catching yourself before you scrunch your nose in disgust at him.

“we try to keep the noise at a minimum if we’re here at prime hours,” riwoo cuts in again, attempting to explain gently. “but past that…” he trails off, shoulders shrugging as he gives you a sympathetic look.

you process his words, how he really is seemingly trying to help you out here, before sighing softly as your hand raises to press into your increasingly aching temple.

“do you have to use your amps?” you ask, raising a hand to point at one.

“did you not hear him? we have a show to do, we need to practice as best as we can. so yes, we have to use our amps.” taesan firmly states, over enunciating like you can’t hear. his brows are slightly furrowed as his previous amusement is completely gone, a flame of annoyance now in his eyes.

you let your hand defeatedly fall and slap against your bare thigh, taesan’s eyes glancing down at your leg for the smallest of moments before looking back up to glare at you.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you bite at him, sick of his selfish attitude as you turn your body fully in his direction, crossing your arms.

“wxnder.” he dryly states, making your head tilt in confusion and absolute impatience.

“huh?”

“wonder— but like, with an ‘x’. that’s our band name.” leehan provides, throwing you off as you’re momentarily sidetracked by how deep and smooth his voice is. (are all these men vocalists? also, with an ‘x’— how cheesy can they be?)

“you should come watch us perform.” he smiles widely, eyes creasing and everything. you’re yet again thrown off as he speaks to you with such casual friendliness as though you haven’t practically yelled at all of them and continue to seethe at his guitarist like you want to rip his throat out.

“uh, i…”

“i’m sure miss priss has other things she’d rather do, like dance to swan lake in a feather tutu or something.” taesan finishes your sentence for you, conjuring a string of curses to lace your tongue.

“shut the f—“

“bye, twinkle toes.” he waves you off dismissively, grabbing the neck of his guitar by his multiple ringed fingers as he directs his attention back to his instrument and mic.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.” riwoo adds somewhat shyly, adjusting the strap of his instrument as well— though much more apologetically.

“see ya’, y/n!” leehan calls before picking up his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands, looking up to taesan for his cue. you watch him cock his chin, the sudden rhythmic pounding of leehan’s drums making you flinch before taesan and riwoo start playing their strings again.

riwoo’s voice starts out soft before slowly raising in volume and you’re shocked by his melodic vocals that contrast so satisfyingly well with the rock instrumentals.

still disgruntled but more off put than anything, you don’t know what more to do than shuffle out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you stare at the air in front of you.

well, guess it’s time to find some earbuds that are sound and pirouette proof.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you got it. you got the lead role.

all the extra (maybe slightly excessive) practicing, late nights and frustration (which would be a lot less if there wasn’t a band next door) paid off.

you’re playing as princess aurora for your dance studio’s performance of ‘the sleeping beauty’, which will be showing at a local theatre next month.

jaehyun, your good friend and fellow dancer who’s always making you smile and lightening sullen moments during classes— is your dance partner, playing as prince désiré.

the second the both of you found out you got lead roles, jaehyun was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, insisting that you go out tonight to celebrate.

which is why you find yourself by jaehyun’s side at ‘sundown lounge’, your favorite bar and hang out spot.

“you look good, by the way!” jaehyun attempts to speak over the loud karaoke, leaning a little closer to your ear as you weave through the crowd.

“thanks!” you turn your head to smile at him over your shoulder, hoping your iridescent eyeshadow twinkles under the lights how you wanted it to.

“you do too.” you compliment before someone’s elbow is jabbed into your stomach, squishing yourself against the wall as you and jaehyun try to make it to the bar to order some drinks. “why is it so busy tonight?”

“i don’t know, maybe it’s happy hour!” jaehyun suggests hopefully, but when you finally reach the counter his theory is proven wrong when you’re told everything’s its original price. regardless, you sip on a strawberry margarita while jaehyun holds a glass of something that looks like muddy water before deciding where to sit.

“wanna go there, near the stage?” he asks, pointing over to a table that’s very near the performance area. you’d rather not have to hear a drunk girl sloppily sing a britney spears song right in your ears but jaehyun finds it hilarious, often unable to resist curling in on himself while giggling uncontrollably— and that always makes you laugh. so you nod your head, jaehyun grabbing your hand to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd before leading you to the table.

there’s only two more songs played before the dj hops on the stage, speaking into the mic. “karaoke will be ending as it’s time for the band of tonight to take the stage. give us a few minutes while the performers are setting up!”

some people in the crowd hoot and holler excitedly as jaehyun turns his head to you. “i wonder what type of band will be playing tonight, last weeks was pretty good.”

“it’s punk rock!” a girl excitedly butts in from the table right next to yours, having accidentally overheard your conversation.

“a rock band?” you ask, somewhat groaned in annoyance as you now have a personal vendetta against the genre. but your tone goes completely unnoticed by the girl as her eyes continue to sparkle with enthusiasm.

“yeah! their music’s really good and they’re all super hot, my favorite one plays the electric guitar.”

“what’s their name?” jaehyun asks, curiosity evidently sparked.

“wxnder!” she answers, and your brows furrow with the familiarity of it. where have you heard that name before?

the girl’s head turns at a sound and her mouth drops open, a small uproar caused as some people in the crowd shriek and cheer. the unexpected noise has you flinching before looking towards the stage— and your jaw drops too, but not in a good way.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you say to yourself in shock, watching as riwoo sits down his amp and plugs it into the wall.

“what?…what!” jaehyun whisper-yells, grabbing onto your arm to try and get your attention.

leehan appears next, sitting down behind the drum set that’s already on stage and wagging his head to adjust his hair, causing another small wave of squeals.

then a broad back covered by a black leather jacket abstracts your view, and he doesn’t even need to turn around for you to know who he is— but he does anyway. the way taesan almost immediately catches your gaze amongst the crowd is infuriating, smirking while glancing down at how close your table is to the stage before looking teasingly into your eyes again.

and it makes you pissed, unbelievably so— yet you feel your cheeks burn as you can’t help but think about how hot he looks, the stage lights glinting off his lip ring and drawing your eyes towards them.

have his lips always been so…plump?

taesan winks at you before looking down to tune his guitar, hands gripping the neck of it. veins pop out from the contours of his knuckles; long, thick fingers adorned with silver rings picking at the strings.

fuck…

“y/n?” jaehyun tries again, and you finally respond with the shake of your head, downing the remainder of your drink like it’s a shot.

“it’s nothing.” you insist.

after a few minutes of setting up, tuning, and making sure everything’s in order; taesan introduces the group (not that he exactly needs to, since it seems the bar is full of their fans), saying that their opening song will be ‘take my tears’, a song he wrote himself.

usually you and jaehyun talk throughout a band's live performance, as they’ll be playing all night— but you can’t seem to look away as you listen to the lyrics and how they perform.

it’s entrancing— much different than when you’re trying to ignore them through the studio walls. the song is somewhat emotional, beautiful; yet it also has such a fun and freeing feel. or maybe it’s just the way they sing it— how taesan sings it, his body grooving and head nodding to the beat of their sound. the lyrics aren’t what you’d expect from him— the guy you thought he was, and it leaves you wondering what more there is to him that you wouldn’t expect.

your heart skips a beat, and you’re not sure if it’s just the thrill of the rock music or if it’s because of him; the annoying, pompous punk who suddenly looks so sexy when he’s performing. (and never any other time. definitely not.)

you’ve just finished your second margarita and are a little buzzed by the time their set is finished, the night passing faster than you realized.

jaehyun is eating on a basket of fries, yapping away so fervently that he doesn’t even notice how you’ve gotten up from the table and are approaching taesan— who again locks eyes with you as he walks down the steps of the stage to meet you halfway.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from the long performance, having had no breaks in between songs.

he stands closely so you can hear him— and it’s enough for you to smell his cologne; to see the way sweat clings to the skin of his neck; deep breaths coming out in puffs as his chest expands. something about it all has an effect on you— or maybe it’s something in the air, because taesan doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, admiring your legs in your denim mini skirt.

“you..you guys were amazing.” you compliment, sounding a little out of breath yourself.

taesan makes a ‘hm’ sound, faintly smiling at you while biting his lip— and you swear you see the glint of metal on his tongue.

your body heats up as you wonder if his tongue is pierced too, what kind of things he could do to you with it, what it would feel like against your skin— before you frantically try and dismiss the increasingly dirty thoughts, reminding yourself that the man you’re fantasizing about is right in front of you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” taesan says, speaking in a teasing tone that you swear seems flirty paired with the slight quirk of his brow.

“how’d you even know we’d be here? did you stalk us, princess?”

okay, surely that was flirting, right?

you’re about to playfully roll your eyes, paired with a smart little comment and deny that’d you’d ever be interested enough to ‘stalk’ them— until the girl that spoke to you about wxnder earlier suddenly appears, putting herself between you and taesan.

“you were absolutely amazing, taesan.” the girl croons, confidently placing her hand on his forearm as she leans all up in his personal space.

and you expect him to shrug her off, either politely or not-so politely establish some distance between them. but again, he surprises you— in a way you absolutely hate.

he smirks at her, in just the same way he did to you just moments ago— and leans even closer to her face, unneededly close.

“aren’t you sweet. thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl smiles cattily, clearly enjoying the attention.

something in your heart burns, and that familiar feeling of uncontrollable annoyance comes back even worse than before.

“do you think i could get your autograph?”

“sure, princess.” taesan answers lowly— and that does it.

without even feeling the urge to look back and see that girl all over him, you’re gone, picking up a drunk jaehyun by his arm.

“wh— where are we going?” jaehyun drunkenly slurs, eyes glossed over as they look at you.

“to get an uber home.” you answer firmly, eyes hard as you once again weave through the crowd.

you feel eyes on your back, but you ignore it until you get to the door, turning your head as jaehyun leans half of his body weight against you. even amongst all the faces, you and taesan’s eyes meet easily, his arm now slung around the girl’s waist as she whispers something in his ear.

his lips are in that same smirk— like he’s taunting you, and you scoff, dragging jaehyun and yourself out of the bar.

you can’t believe you were actually feeling into him— but you surely don’t have to worry about that now.

he’s just confirmed that he is in fact what you thought he was: an absolute ass and a cocky player who sings on stage to get girls in his bed.

well, fuck him. he can get his dick wet with anyone he wants but it sure as hell won’t be you.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the very next day you’re back at the dance studio, rehearsing for the upcoming performance.

jaehyun whines the whole day, saying that it’s somehow your fault that he got drunk off his ass— but despite that, he does incredibly well during class. you do also, but unbeknownst to you, your friend wonders why you seem so tense— like something has been bothering you all day.

“shouldn’t you go home and rest, y/n?” jaehyun asks you at the end of class hours. everyone else is packing up their totes and leaving, yet you’re stood at the ballet barre doing leg exercises.

“i’ll be fine. practice makes perfect.” you insist, keeping your eyes on your form in the mirrored wall.

“well..just don’t overwork yourself, okay?” jaehyun sweetly tells you, and you flash him a thankful smile through the mirror.

“don’t worry, yunie, i wont. see you tomorrow.”

if it weren’t for the absolute beast you’re known to be in the studio, jaehyun would force you out of your pointe shoes and drag you home himself— but you don’t seem even a little bit tired, and it appears as though you have some steam to blow off.

so jaehyun and you exchange goodbyes before he leaves you in the empty classroom. (yes, completely empty— aside from the lady at the front desk. no one is as obsessive as you to want to stay even another second practicing when you already have for the whole day— on a saturday night, no less.)

you spend the next thirty minutes going over the steps you learned today that you don’t have down perfectly yet, having small cool downs in the form of stretching in between.

‘entrée d’aurore’ is still playing on your phone when you hear the distant voices of what must be the front desk lady and someone else speaking. you wonder if somebody has returned to get some extra practice in as well, and as you hear footsteps approaching, you remain sitting on the floor doing toe touches.

the door to the classroom opens, echoing slightly in the big, empty space— you lift your head to see someone who definitely is not a part of the sleeping beauty cast.

“y/n?” taesan says somewhat quietly, eyes looking around the big room that only holds one ballerina, who looks small in comparison to the high ceilings and vacant space.

your eyebrows furrow, somewhat irritated to see him while also being surprised— not only by his presence but by the unfamiliar way he almost looks sheepish: barely taking a few steps inside the classroom, looking around like he expects someone or yourself to scold him and kick him out.

“…don’t tell me you auditioned.” you joke, although it’s said casually. your eyes only scrutinize him for a second before you look back down to your own hands as you stretch them across your straightened legs and to your toes.

taesan has seen you a handful of times when you’re in your casual practice wear, but what you’re clad in for an official performance class is a little different. you’re wearing a black leotard with a little mesh skirt, a cropped shirt overtop, tights, and black leg warmers.

you look..really cute. even when you’re pretending to ignore him.

“no. the lady at the front desk said you were in here.” he explains lamely, all his usual snarky remarks not coming to his thoughts as he watches you in your element.

“good. i don’t want to see you in tights anyway. not your aesthetic.”

“sure you don’t.”

your head snaps to look at him before you can think not to react, cheeks heating up as you see the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile he tries to conceal by pressing down his lips.

you sigh as though you’re bothered— because you are— obviously…and get up from your floor stretches to walk over to the ballet barre again. taesan follows you.

“i don’t know why you’re here but i’m practicing. you should leave.”

“who was that with you at the bar last night?”

your cold indifference is broken at the unexpected question, your expression clearly confused as you look at the man standing beside you in the mirrored wall.

“what, jaehyun? he’s my friend. he wanted to go out to celebrate our castings. y’know, for the performance i’m trying to practice for right now?”

“so it was a date.” taesan remarks, eyes hardening right in front of you— and there’s that angered burn in your chest again, your hands squeaking from how tightly they hold onto the barre as your expression turns sour.

“who i date isn’t any of your business to speculate. i haven’t asked you what you and that fangirl got up to last night, have i?” you snap, raising a challenging brow at him— but it only makes him shake his head in unbelief, staring at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“what? y/n, i don’t even know her name.”

“yes, well, i’m not surprised over that. i’m guessing it’s not very important for you to learn a girl’s name— as long as you’re in between her legs by the end of the night.”

his hand is on your shoulder, turning you around to face him abruptly as he stands closely, right in front of you.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you think i fucked her?”

“i don’t want to know what you di—“

“shut the fuck up.” taesan orders, his fingers curling over your wrists making you wonder when they got there in the first place.

“make me.” someone (you?) says, and then you feel the cold press of taesan’s lip ring against your mouth.

it’s firm at first: the way his lips slam into yours, how both of your expressions still look pissed off at each other, even with both of your eyes closed. but eventually you seem to realize that taesan is actually kissing you— and then you’re melting into him, sighing as you feel his touch soften in response.

his kiss quickly turns demanding, lips moving against yours in pursuit of your taste. you squeak when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, not knowing you’ve fallen right into his trap until his tongue has already seized the opportunity and invaded your mouth. turns out you weren’t wrong when you thought you spotted a ball stud piercing on taesan’s tongue, you can most definitely feel it when he brushes it against your own appendage.

your head is pushed against the mirror from his vigor and you whimper, never having felt so dominated simply by a man’s kiss; taesan explores your mouth like he owns it, like it’s his, and it makes your core pulse, a flicker of neediness growing.

the rough groan he lets out as his hands move to roam and grasp at your waist hints at his possessiveness, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin material of your leotard.

“didn’t fuck her. didn’t want to.” he murmurs between the eager movements of his lips. “just wanted to make you jealous.”

“wh— why?” you manage breathily, taesan pressing his body against yours as your hands move to brace yourself on the barre.

“because i like you, y/n.” he smiles and huffs in disbelief at your denseness.

“i want to take you on a date— whether you let me between your legs or not.” he smirks, referring to your earlier harsh remark and making you cringe at the reference.

“i…i’d like that.” you say shyly, looking at him through your lashes. “the date— and..and the other thing too.”

“the other thing?” taesan repeats, confused as you only avoid his gaze, not further explaining— but funnily enough, your sudden bashful attitude is what makes it click in his mind.

“princess?” he experimentally calls, pleased when you automatically lift your head to look at him. his tongue unconsciously peaks out to play with his lip ring as he cockily grins, hand creeping up from your waist to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“why don’t you be a big girl and tell me what you mean?”

your nose crinkles, a pathetic attempt at defiance amidst your embarrassment. taesan’s other hand pinches the tender skin of your thigh, causing you to flinch and whimper at the slight pain as he makes a disapproving sound under his breath.

“come on, y/n. be good or i won’t give you what you want.”

“i— i want you...i meant—”

taesan does anything but go easy on you, eyes dark with mischief as he lowers his head to nibble at your neck. you squeeze your thighs together, looking for relief from the way your pussy now pulses prominently.

his hands move in tandem, one cradling along your jawline while the other brushes up and down your thigh, making you annoyed at your tights with how they keep you from feeling the cold brush of his rings against your skin.

you want them off. you want taesan to take them off. so you admit it.

“want you to fuck me. please, taesan.”

“awe,” he coos. “aren’t you a sweet one.”

you swear the tone in which he says those words turn you into goo, your hands releasing the barre to desperately hold onto his shirt.

“please.” you beg, finding yourself only wanting more praise— more of him— just anything he’s willing to give you.

taesan is able to identify the look in your eyes, staring at your lips and leaning down so slowly, making you whine at his teasing until he finally grants you mercy and kisses you again.

it’s dirtier than before: a lot more spit, moans, and movement from both of your tongues. taesan’s leg leans against the wall between your thighs, and whether it was his purpose to give you relief or not, you take the opportunity and hesitantly grind your core against his ripped jeans.

the pleasure is immediate, sending a tingle up your spine that has you arching against his chest, forgetting any shame as you begin to earnestly grind your hips against him. the thin layers covering your core paired with the roughness of taesan’s denim creates a wonderful friction, feeling how wet you’ve become in your panties.

“shit, you’re such a slut for it.” taesan remarks in genuine awe after breaking the kiss to watch the little show you’re putting on. his eyes take in every movement, from the way you rock against him to how your eyes squeeze shut and you tilt your head back.

the previous song playing on your phone has long since finished as some other tune now plays from your playlist— taesan suddenly becoming aware of it and that he has a girl whimpering and riding his thigh in the middle of a dance classroom.

he abruptly pulls away, the presence between your legs disappearing as you conjure a bratty sound from your throat.

“y/n,” taesan scolds in a harsh whisper. “did you forget where we are?”

“thought you said you’d fuck me if i was good?” you argue, flashing him a defiant expression.

“you think using my thigh to get yourself off without my permission is being good?”

your eyes widen, not expecting him to call you out on it.

looking to the floor and hearing taesan’s responding laugh at your childishness, it only makes the desire to act out against him stronger— you’re just not sure how you can do it in this moment.

“get your things. we can go to my place.” taesan offers, your stomach fluttering at the idea as you do what he says— moving to grab your phone, bag, and change out of your ballet wear.

your heart is pounding out of your chest and what’s between your legs hasn’t calmed down at all either by the time you walk out of the dance studio and sit in the passenger seat of taesan’s car.

and the drive is just as excruciating.

the man seems hellbent on teasing you by not giving you a drop of attention, keeping his eyes on the road while some rock song plays through the speakers. and you know he knows what he’s doing, how you can’t keep his eyes off of him, because the corner of his mouth is subtly turned.

you see no reason to hide it since he’s already aware, so you stare at him— once again admiring how hot his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel, the contours of his jawline and perfect side profile illuminated by the low hanging sun.

your eyes keep wandering— down, down, down until you get to his lap, where you see the large bulge tenting his pants.

your mouth waters and your hands twitch, wondering if he’s really as big as he looks and hoping you’ll get to find out by the end of tonight.

then you’re struck with an idea, recognizing the perfect opportunity you have right now— and you reach your hand out confidently to grope him over his pants.

you’re so proud at the way it makes taesan softly gasp under his breath, back stiffening at the unexpected touch. you mold your hand over his clothed dick, rubbing and gently squeezing— in all the right ways apparently, as you feel him twitch in your hands— even through the thick denim fabric.

“y/n, stop it.” taesan grits, and you hear the squeak of what you guess is his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel. you don’t look at him until after you’ve located the head of his cock, rubbing over it with your thumb and meeting his fiery glare with a teasing bite to your lip— clearly pleased with yourself.

taesan is visibly pissed at your blatant act of defiance, but he gives you one more chance in the form of a threat.

“you’re not very patient, are you, princess? keep touching my dick like that and you won’t even get to see it out of my pants.”

your hand immediately stills— the man releasing a huff of disbelief when you pull your hand away completely to lay both of your hands on your lap, avoiding his gaze as you stare ahead.

not another word is shared, taesan enjoying the way you nervously squirm in your seat as he finally pulls into his apartment’s parking lot.

“stay.” he simply orders once he’s parked, and you’re left confused as he exits the car, only to watch him come around and open your door for you— even going as far to unbuckle your seatbelt and keep a firm hold around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs of his building. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach yet your insides twist with nervous anticipation— because he does it all with the same stern eyes he spoke to you with as he threatened not to fuck you.

when the key is twisted and his front door lightly squeaks open— his residence somehow looks exactly how you thought; dark, moody, vintage rock posters and memorabilia hanging on the walls.

you expect him to be cheesy and press you against his door the moment it’s closed, but he doesn’t— instead walking over leisurely to his couch and sitting down, legs widely spread in an oddly commanding and powerful way.

your eyes widen at the arousing image, feeling yourself become sheepish as taesan lets his eyes roam over your form without shame.

“why do you look so shy now? you were such a disobedient little slut in the car.”

you swallow, hardly able but trying to hold eye contact with him as your face heats up in a delicious sort of shame.

taesan sighs as though he’s annoyed with your silence, patting one thigh with his hand.

“come here.”

“…h— huh?”

“don’t make me say it again, y/n.” he orders— and next thing you know, your body is moving to straddle the leg he’s directed you to sit on.

“there we go. guess princesses can take orders sometimes, hm?” he rhetorically asks, but you’re nodding your head anyway.

taesan just stares at you for a bit, admiring how pretty you look sitting and waiting for what he’ll do next, so different from the bratty attitude you had during the car ride.

then his hands rest on your bare waist, giving him easy access as you had disregarded your leotard before leaving the studio, now only wearing your cropped shirt and athletic shorts.

you’re unable to conceal the shuddered inhale you take as taesan’s hands creep upward, seeing him smirk at the sound before his hands slip under your shirt and reach your tits.

“no bra?” he teases, biting his lip as his fingers pinch at your hard nipples.

“n— no,” you struggle out, flinching lightly as taesan plays with your tits without any restraint, like your body is his toy. the contrast of his cool rings against your heated skin causes goosebumps to rise on the surface of your arms, chest pushing further into his hands. “didn’t think there was any p—..point.”

you watch as taesan shakes his head like he’s disappointed, yet he’s smiling darkly.

“dirty girl.” he remarks, giving a firmer pinched tug to your hard bud and forcing a whimper to escape from between your lips. “just take everything off then.”

you’re quicker to do what he says this time, only letting your sudden shy attitude make you hesitate for a moment before getting up from his lap to discard your clothing to his floor, keeping eye contact with taesan as best as you can manage— as he seems pleased when you do. he lets out a hungry exhale when you take off your shirt and your tits are revealed to his eyes, hand leisurely jerking himself off over his pants by the time your shorts are removed— leaving you only in your underwear.

“is that a thong, princess?” taesan asks breathily, eyes slightly widening in what you think might be surprise.

“yeah? it’s…it’s what i always wear underneath my leotard.” you confirm, somewhat confused— until taesan speaks again, hand moving up and down his dick faster.

“fuck, just— just didn’t expect such a prissy girl like you to— shit, i don’t know. you’re so hot.”

you smile— and it’s equally sexy and cute in a way that makes taesan feel like he’s going to go insane if you don’t get back on his lap right away. your fingers slip beneath the band of your panties to tug them off, but he stops you before you can.

“don’t. keep them on, wanna see you make a mess in them for me.”

a part of you— the bratty side— wants to say you already have, the dark spot from your leaking arousal evidence of it. but you don’t, the desire to listen actually winning over as you remove your hands from your hips and straddle his thigh again. you hover this time, not fully sitting down as you’re embarrassed for him to feel your wetness directly against his bare skin, which are revealed through the large holes in his jeans.

but taesan catches on immediately, tutting fondly as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“all the way.” he drawls, like he’s giving a ditzy dog a command they’re struggling to understand— and it makes your stomach flip, hurrying to do as he says.

you know he feels it, how your panties clinging to your wet pussy lips press against his thigh— and as he bites at his lip, drawing your eyes to his twinkling piercing yet again— your face burns as you’re sure he’s probably looking at the glistening residue you’ve surely left on his skin.

“good girl.” he mutters roughly, you whining in response as your hands fist into the material of his shirt.

you feel like such a slut, sitting on a man’s lap almost completely bare while he’s fully clothed, your needy pussy slowly drenching his thigh in your juices; and you sound like one too as taesan leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

you gasp and stutter— unsure of what you’re even trying to say as taesan chuckles around your bud, continuing to flick and roll his pierced tongue over you. the contrast of his warm appendage and the occasional brush of round metal against your skin makes you sensitive, hole clenching around nothing with every other swipe of his tongue.

“like that?” he whispers before switching to give your other breast attention.

“yes,” you quietly moan, wrapping your arms around to grip and play with the hair at the nape of his neck, subsequently pushing his face deeper into your tits.

he likes that— if his responding groan is anything to judge by, his hands pulling your hips forward and drawing a more unabashed sound from your lips at the movement.

“use me. get your little pussy off on my thigh.”

“fuck— yes,” you obey, rocking your hips and finding a rhythm.

“shit. that’s it, baby.” he coos, his hand suddenly reigning down against your ass a contrast to his soft tone as it leaves your skin tingling with heat. “just a few little touches is all it takes to get the brat out of you, huh?”

you scoff at that— though it’s interrupted by a moan when taesan flexes his thigh. shame burns your skin and his little remark makes you want to act out again, but all you can do is grind your pussy against him, gasping and going faster whenever your covered clit gets brushed over just right.

your hands that are still tangled in his hair pull to disconnect his mouth from your tits, leaning down to kiss him instead. taesan doesn’t scold you for the demanding gesture— but he does lift a hand to grasp it over your throat. he doesn’t squeeze, but the simple act makes you feel so good and dominated— and his other hand which gropes at your ass and snaps the string waistband of your thong has you falling further into delirium.

“please— please, tae. wanna cum.”

“then cum.” he says simply, and when you finally open your squeezed shut eyes, he’s staring at your desperate face with amusement— and just like that, you’re pissed.

“taesan! i can’t! not— not enough!” you whine, not even able to think about how pathetic you sound.

“you’re cumming by my thigh or not at all. this is what you get for acting like a fucking whore while i was driving.”

you whisper out a sigh, and it’s so broken and helpless as you rock your hips earnestly against him that he almost feels bad— but the bigger part of him is proud; proud in a dark and twisted way at how he’s dwindled the ballerina down to nothing but a mindless slut that’s practically crying with the need to cum.

another spank is delivered to your ass and you flinch, taesan’s hand around your neck getting a little firmer as he forces your teary eyes to look up at him— and you feel like a dog in heat as your hips never stop their efforts to bring you to release.

“please.” you beg, and taesan’s eyes turn hazey at the beautiful sound.

“come on, princess. i know you can do it for me.” he encourages— and turns out that’s all you needed.

taesan gets an up close view as your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he feels you ruin your panties even further.

his thigh is dripping as you keep rutting your hips against him, letting out small whimpers as you work yourself through your high. taesan grants you mercy at the very end, helping you grind your hips before eventually slowing you to a stop.

then he’s picking you up and carrying you into what you can only assume is his bedroom— because in the next moment he’s laying you down on a black comforter-covered mattress and stripping off his clothes.

you’re panting, still catching your breath— but you still manage to make a somewhat teasing comment as the man’s bare chest is revealed to you.

“no tattoos?”

taesan looks up at you right after pulling his shirt over his head, black hair disheveled and brushing over his eyes as he smirks silently at you and combs it out of his face.

“i thought all emo’s had tattoos.” you tack on— and that gets him to respond.

“emo?! i’m not emo, i’m fucking punk!” he argues, somewhat offended but mostly amused as he works on removing his jeans.

“emo, punk, metalhead. it’s all the same thing.” you offhandedly say.

“…i’m about to go soft.” taesan threatens.

“kidding!” you laugh, sitting up on your elbows— and the smile is completely wiped off your face when taesan removes his boxers and his dick is finally freed, slapping against his abs.

“shit..” you whisper to yourself, watching as taesan rolls a condom on before climbing on the bed and caging you underneath him with his body.

“need me to stretch you first, princess?” taesan sweetly asks after peeling off your drenched panties, hand brushing up and down your hip soothingly.

as much as you want his sexy fingers in your cunt— you can’t wait any longer, spreading your legs for him as you flash him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“no. please just fuck me, taesanie. need you.”

“god…” taesan sighs, not making you wait anymore as he lines his head to your entrance before pushing in slowly. “oh, fuck. you’re so tight, princess.”

your chest heaves as he pushes into the hilt, your hands gripping against the sheets.

“move. fuck me hard, please. want it rough.”

you think you hear taesan mutter something about you being a dream before his pulling out till just the tip is stretching your hole— and slamming back inside.

you both turn a little animalistic and desperate, learning how the other feels and bodies being taken over by the pleasure of it. taesan’s cock stretches you out so good— he fucks you so good. the rocking of his bed frame hits against his wall, and you have a fleeting thought about if the walls are thin and if he’ll get a noise complaint— before all that is forgotten as taesan takes hold of one of your thighs and bends it against your chest.

“feel it, baby? feel how fucking bad i want you?” taesan groans between his teeth, hand squeezing tightly around your leg unconsciously— and you secretly hope it leaves mark indentations from his rings; tiny bruises from his fingers you can admire the next day.

you only can respond so his deeply uttered words with a broken moan, and taesan only fucks you harder.

“that’s it, princess got what she wanted.” he coos, eyes surprising you by how they turn a little soft— though the movement of his hips certainly never do. “always give my princess what she wants.”

you whine at that, grabbing him by the shoulders to ask for a kiss.

“fuck, you drive me crazy, y/n.” he breathes before leaning down to yet again give you what you ask for.

“but i like that about you.” he finishes between kisses.

your thighs are trembling in pleasure, sweat is lining your hairline and glistening from taesan’s chest— and you can’t take it anymore, wrapping your legs around taesan’s waist as your nails dig into his back.

“can i come, please? oh, fff— please?”

“such a good fucking slut when you got a cock in you, huh? can’t believe my princess likes it rough.”

his hand manages to squeeze between your bodies despite how tightly you cling to him, his fingers finding your clit and tracing shapes over it.

“cum, baby. get it all over my sheets.”

your body going stiff before trembling uncontrollably against him, all while your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock— it brings taesan to release as well, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow each other's cries of pleasure.

the come down is slow, taesan rolling over and pulling your body on top of his so he doesn’t accidentally fall against you in exhaustion.

your deep breaths puff warmly against his neck as he cradles you on his chest, hands swirling patterns over your back absentmindedly.

“that was…amazing.” you say around a sigh, enjoying the comforting aroma of taesan’s cologne imbedded into his sheets.

“yeah…are you done?” taesan asks, still breathy yet curious— and you raise your head to look at his face.

“you want to go again?”

“well,” taesan starts, somewhat sheepishly— yet his eyes hold that constant playful sparkle. “just thought you might be curious what it feels like to get eaten out with a piercing.”

your eyes widen, clearly shocked by not only the question but at how correct he is.

“come on, princess. you’re not slick. don’t think i didn’t notice you staring at it when we were at the bar. plus, you did say you wanted me between your legs—“

“can you stop bringing that up!?”

note ; and for anyone wondering, yes, taesan went to reader’s ballet performance. (and yes, he got jealous watching her and jaehyun dancing on stage together…part two material?🤭)

all taglists (perm/fluff/smut) are open if anyone would like to be added! age must be in bio/somewhere on pinned post if you want to be tagged in perm/smut taglist.

#ihangelic smut #taesan smut #taesan x reader #taesan imagines #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #bnd smut #bnd imagines #bnd x reader #kpop smut #kpop imagines #han taesan #han dongmin #bonedo #hard thoughts #hard hours

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softspokendove · 6 months ago

Text

Sit on my lap

parings: innocent!reader x rafe cameron

summary: you’ve always had a thing for Rafes thighs, but you can’t control it anymore.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, hickeys, reader is super horny, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, pretty girl), and a lot of wetness.

a/n: this is my first time writing anything like this so hopefully you enjoy!

“Hey baby.” You feel Rafes arms wrap around your waist and pull you towards him, the rest of his body spread out and sitting down on your white couch. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbles his words into your tummy as he presses his face into your shirt, inhaling your smell.

You’ve been out all day running your errands, which Rafe had practically begged you to allow him to come. you just responded with it being a girls day and you wanted some time alone with your girls. He reluctantly agreed and has been waiting alone at your house all day. To say he was excited when he heard your key turning in the keyhole was an understatement. He felt like a dog.

You run your fingers through his hair feeling him sigh against you, “I’ve missed you too. I got a new dress.” He lifts his head slightly so his blue eyes can meet yours. A small smile appears on his face, “really? let me see it baby, go try it on.”

You happily agree and run into the bathroom to step out of your shirt and shorts, into the newly bought clothing. You look into the mirror at the white dress with colorful designs splattered onto it. The dress ends right before your mid thigh and has an open back. The straps being very thin.

You walk back into your living room and see Rafe comfortably leaning back into the couch with his legs spread apart, causing your eyes to stare at his thighs for a little too long. His face lights up at the scene of you in a pretty dress all for his view.

“You look so pretty.” He gestures with his finger to do twirl, you listen and move swiftly around in a circle giving him everything to see. When you stand still again straight in front of him his eyes wander everywhere before they land back on your face.

“My pretty girl, come here.” He pats his right thigh and opens his arms, welcoming you onto his body. You put one leg on either side of his, now straddling his thigh. He rests his right hand on your hip to keep you steady and his left hand comes up to your face, caressing your cheek.

“Do you like it?” You could tell from his face as soon as you walked in the room that he loved it, but there’s nothing you love more than hearing your boyfriend approve of you and praise you.

“It’s beautiful, you have good taste.” His hand drops from your face and fiddles with the material of the dress. Moving his pointing finger and thumb in a circle motion around it.

Your gaze drops down again and onto his thighs that are strained against the confinements of his jeans. There’s always been something with you and your boyfriend’s thighs. Your tummy would get twisted every time Rafe would ask you to sit on his lap. Whenever he wore shorts you couldn’t help but stare, especially when he’d sit down and they would expand. You’ve never told him about the attraction, too embarrassed of it.

You move to adjust your spot on his lap to get more comfortable, but feel your panties cling to your cunt. Your folds and panties already being covered in your slick. You feel your face get hot at the thought of Rafe finding out about your little secret, but he picks up on your behavior.

“hey sweetheart, look at me.”

You hear him and you do want to listen, but your eyes can’t pull away from his thigh being trapped between yours. You know that if you look him in the eye he’ll know something’s up. He knows you too well.

You feel his hand cup your chin and tilt your face up himself. You look away for a moment but give in to the need to look at him. His eyes are already piercing into yours. He sees the state that you’re in. Your rosy cheeks, dilated eyes, lips open a gap as your breathing is uneven.

“Rafe.”

The need in your stomach starting to become too much to handle, you rock yourself slightly upward and let out a sigh at the friction. Rafe moves the bottom of your dress away from where your pussy meets his thigh, getting a perfect view of your drenched pink underwear.

“Fuck baby you’ve ruined your underwear.” His voice is now a tone deeper and that mixed with his words make you let out a small moan. “Here let’s get you out of these.” Rafe hooks his fingers into the waistband of your undies and starts to pull them down, you lift your body off of his to help.

“There we go.” He tosses the pink clothing to the floor and try’s to place you higher up near his waist but you whine and push against his strength, moving back to his right thigh when he loosens up. The feeling of his jeans touching your bare cunt gives you a rush of euphoria. Rafe gives you a confused look until you start subtly rocking back and forth on his thigh. Trying to keep it as unnoticeable as possible but having no luck when Rafe starts to feel the dampness moving on his leg.

A smirk then plays on his face, “do you like rubbing yourself on my thigh?” A whine escapes your throat at his dirty words.

“Please.” You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for, all you know is that you need him. You need to feel his thigh harder against your pussy. You need to cum.

“Please what baby? What do you want?”

You huff out, “you. I need you, Rafe. Please.”

You feel his hand that’s on your waist move down to your hip and tighten, he then starts helping you move yourself back and forth. You moan at the new feeling. Your clit being rubbed back and forth by the material of his pants. “Hold your dress up for me sweetheart, I wanna see the mess you’re making.” You oblige and hold up the bottom of your dress, giving your boyfriend the show that he wanted.

Rafe wets his lips at the sight of your pussy leaving a dark stain on his pants, starting to feel it go through the jeans and onto his skin. He brings up his other hand to the other side of your hip and pushes you further down onto his thigh. This causes you to squeal and put a hand on his bicep to stabilize you, the other hand still holding up your dress.

“God you look so good.” He increases the speed, dragging you from the top of his thigh to the bottom then back to the top. You feel your eyes roll back into your head as your moans become more and more desperate. You crane your neck back towards the ceiling and Rafe takes this to his advantage and brings his lips to your neck. He gives you a few light kisses before applying more pressure and then sucking slightly before moving on to the next spot.

He goes further down to the neck of your dress, pulling down the material with his teeth, still keeping you moving on his thigh. Your tits fall freely and he takes one nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirly his tongue around. You moan in response to the abuse he applies to one nipple and then moves to the next doing the same thing. “R-Rafe, ‘feels so good.”

He moans against your boob as a reply before moving back up and marking your neck. When he feels you have enough hickeys he sits back in his spot and feels his dick pulse rapidly by seeing the look of bliss on your face. Your eyes are dark, cheeks even more red than earlier, and you’re biting your lip trying to reduce how loud you are. “Baby what did I say about doing that?” He pulls your lip down and out of your reach to bite down on it, “I want to hear all the noises you make. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Your mouth drops open as you hit your clit just right and let moans slip past your lips. “Faster, please.” Rafe follows your command and helps guide you faster on his body. The couch creaking with each move. His whole thigh now covered in your slick. “Look at that, you like this baby?” You nod your head rapidly. Your mind turning blank all you can think about is your boyfriend’s thigh and how good it’s making you feel.

“I love it. I’ve always wanted to do this. feels so good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at your honesty. “You’ve been wanting to ride my thigh like this? Do you like my thighs?” You whine loudly and nod your head again. Unable to respond with words at the increasing feeling in your lower stomach.

“Such a needy girl.”

Rafe can tell you’re getting close, he starts shaking his thigh up and down to match your movement. “Please, please, I’m gonna cum.” Your grip tightens on Rafes bicep and your eyes drop down onto the mess you’re making on your boyfriend. “Cum on my thigh pretty girl, I wanna feel your cum drip all over me.” The sight alone pushes you closer to the edge but that mixed with Rafes deep voice and the constant pleasure being applied to your clit sends you falling off of it hard. You scream out in pleasure as your orgasm rips through you, making your body tremble as you ride out the high.

The room gets quiet the only noise to be heard is your heaving breathing as you come down. Rafe lifts you up and sees strings of your release clinging to his pants and your cunt. His pants are horribly ruined but he doesn’t even care, “holy shit. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“More.”

He furrows his eyebrows, “what baby?”

“I want more of you.” You bend down and start to undo his jeans.

He sighs in satisfaction of his cock not being restrained anymore. Fuck is he thankful that he waited for you to come home.

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satoruxx · 1 year ago

Text

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice.

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone.

"who's the rookie?"

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes.

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei.

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care.

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons."

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit."

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around.

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace.

"maybe she's strong?"

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities."

ii. routine

"can i ask you guys a question?"

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching.

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile.

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue.

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?"

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another.

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could.

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him.

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness."

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him.

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it.

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there.

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you.

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment.

but you can't.

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—"

"—so that makes you her family then."

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles.

"…yes."

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat.

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him.

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims.

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?"

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe."

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?"

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably.

"we'll do things the way she wants us to."

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him.

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge.

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen.

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko.

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you.

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?"

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh.

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot."

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest.

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him.

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face.

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined.

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands.

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?"

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always."

"me too."

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle.

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream.

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru."

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!"

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty."

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours."

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room."

"oh? and why's that?"

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home."

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest.

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room."

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?"

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!"

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist.

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears.

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you.

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!"

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape.

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait:

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you?

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell.

"shoko?"

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you.

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before.

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices.

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively.

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing.

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut.

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?"

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows.

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man.

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him.

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry.

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips.

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?"

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers."

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both.

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind.

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that."

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you.

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time.

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway.

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while.

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you.

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies.

"i know."

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks.

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!"

there's an odd note of glee in his voice.

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around."

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!"

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak.

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?"

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?"

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all."

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?"

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense.

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it.

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself.

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse.

that's what everything came down to, right? curses.

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one.

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye.

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression.

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now.

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome."

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now.

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?"

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap.

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders.

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true."

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?"

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please."

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again.

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true."

"suguru—"

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it."

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully."

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—"

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…"

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?"

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot."

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either.

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing.

nobody has laughed in a while now.

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him.

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand."

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him.

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left."

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions."

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost.

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…"

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair.

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel.

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then."

"better late than never, right?"

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death.

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls.

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head.

"'m not crying."

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more.

he doesn't.

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…"

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears.

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go.

you accept your fate then and there.

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again.

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable.

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read:

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled:

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added:

both of you stfu you're failing too

you had drawn a heart next to her name.

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away.

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off."

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades.

"want help?"

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed.

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful.

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…"

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist.

"…are all of suguru's things."

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there.

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that."

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face.

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble.

"guess not."

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward.

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale.

"let's get started then, hotshot."

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either.

but it's enough for the two of you.

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him.

"so do you."

"i am," you admit honestly.

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here."

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more.

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections.

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up.

"hey."

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention.

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind."

you frown. "what are you talking about?"

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that."

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?"

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?"

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips.

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

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juletheghoul · 1 month ago

Text

father figure

a/n: Clint got me big time, and originally I wanted to write one hot scene but I am who I am and now I have 21 pages written lol. Thanks to @foli-vora & @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me about this and for letting me scream at them about it too, hopefully you enjoy the first chapter. I'm still on a little break from Tumblr but with the movie out I really wanted to share. xoxo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, shitty dad (neglect), absent mother, allusions to illegal activity, daddy kink, secret relationship, period piece - takes place in 1987, Clint being a big guard dog for you, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader

Ko-fi link 🥲💕

word count: 5.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series Masterlist

It’s so cold, the breath from your lungs steams a little. With an angry sigh, and the comforter from your bed wrapped tightly around your shoulders you descend the dark steps into the living room. It’s late, past midnight but the neighbourhood is still buzzing with life.

The dial on the thermostat still shows what the temperature should be set to and then what the actual temperature is and they don’t align, that can only mean the heating bill hasn't been paid again. Your teeth clench, anger swirls like a sudden squall, a heavy sigh pushed roughly through your lips.

The kitchen door opens and the object of your ire walks in, speaking loudly to someone and the annoyance only climbs. On any regular day you’d be asleep by this time, not that he’d care, based on his fucking volume.

Your mouth is open, the scathing words already in the chamber when the bulk of him blocks the kitchen light and the words die in your throat; Clint, neighbourhood thug and overall goon. He follows your dad in, his leather jacket covered frame too big for the dingy little kitchen, his big boots squeaking against the linoleum.

“Fuck, it’s cold in here—“ you dad frowns, pulling two glasses from the cupboard, “Clint, can I get you a drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He shifts on his feet, the bulk of him moves slowly towards the too-small kitchen table, “Thanks.”

“You didn’t pay the heating bill.” The shock of Clint in your house doesn’t stop you from giving your dad a hard stare, his wide-eyed, mooncalf expression doesn’t inspire shame or regret at letting him know. He frowns after a few seconds, an angry huff leaving his lips before laughing, it annoys you that he meets Clint’s eyes before answering you.

“Yeah yeah, I sent it in, must be another mail fuck-up, you know how it is.” He shakes his head but the pulse in your ear only quickens with anger.

“When?” With more force than is necessary, you pull the blanket tighter, “When did you mail it in?” The clench in his jaw only compounds your suspicion.

“You didn’t send in shit, and now you’re here in the middle of the night with—“ your eyes find Clint, and what meets you isn’t what you expect. The perpetual scowl you’ve come to expect to see on his face, whether he was walking down the street, idling in his car at a stoplight, or even sitting in the diner having coffee is gone. What’s there is a piercing gaze, a knowing expression, pride?

“You’re here, getting mixed up in God knows what instead of getting a fucking job—“

“I am getting a job. A good one, one that’s going to change our—“ Clint clears his throat, and the words die, his expression shifts from angry determination to a pleasant, paternal—yeah fucking right—blankness.

“Go to bed, I’ll make a few calls tomorrow and get the heating turned back on.”

The disgust is hard to hide, so you don’t even try. They both call out a soft goodnight when you turn and walk back up the stairs. You don’t respond.

The bell jingles, but your eyes stay on the pile of returned tapes in the bin under the window. The weekend crowd would be in soon, just like every other Friday, all of them flooding towards the new releases section to pick their movies for the weekend. The box is heavy, but you lug it over anyway.

“Let me help you with that—“ his voice cuts through the mental list flickering through your mind, startling you enough that you practically jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He's taller than you remember, greyer, hotter.

“You didn’t,” you lie, “just caught me off guard.” The step back is involuntary.

“Where did you need it?” He holds the heavy box without trouble, it barely seems to register, a testament to at least one of the rumours you’ve heard about him, that everyone has heard about him—his strength. Seemingly just to compound the thought, he shifts it to get a better grip, and for a moment holds it with one hand.

“Yeah uh, just there is fine. Thanks.”

He gives you a tight smile after putting down the box, highlighting the deep scar that begins from the top of one eyebrow and runs down his nose, ending just under the other eye. It’s jarring enough to see it healed. Unwanted images of what it must have looked like fresh, of having a bloody slash across his face fills your mind's eye. It sends a chill up your spine.

Clint's smile evaporates under your gaze, the usual scowl takes over while a curious guilt burns within you.

“Thank you.” You repeat yourself, giving him a smile of your own. A tiny, silent apology. He nods.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Your dad asked me to meet him, I forgot you work here.”

“Forgot? I didn’t know you knew it in the first place.” You mumble it mostly to yourself as you begin the process of filling the shelves with the returned tapes.

“I’ve seen you here before.” He leans against a bare space on the wall, the leather in his jacket creaking as he crosses his arms. You’re not sure what to do with that information, and the easy assumption is that he’d been in the store before, or that he’d walked by enough times, seen you during a shift enough times to recognize you as the video store girl. You accept this assumption.

“Been here a few years.”

“I know—“

“Look, whatever bullshit my dad is trying to get involved in, can you please just tell him to stop?” The words bubble up, spilling out as you slide tape after tape behind the corresponding case. He frowns, you continue.

“He doesn’t need to be getting himself mixed up in things he shouldn’t be getting mixed up in.” His expression is cold when your eyes lock, the reminder of who he is, of his reputation makes your stomach drop.

“It’s not my business, it’s not anything I want to know, but it shouldn’t be his business either.”

“Your dads a big boy sweetheart, not up to me to tell him what to do.”

The bell chimes over the door, ripping your attention away from the endearment. Your father walks in. Something curdles in your gut that he smiles at the sight of Clint, smiles in a way that spells trouble.

“You’re late.” Clint’s tone is icy, the warmth that curled around the syllables he’d directed at you has frozen over into something unwelcoming. It served to highlight a warmth you hadn’t noticed. That curdled thing shifts to a warmth of your own to see the smile die on your fathers face, to see him chastised. Shame eclipses it however, you focus on your task and leave them to their business.

Your father leaves without a word once their meeting is done, Clint doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes find yours, they linger longer than necessary before he walks out of the store. Thoughts of him linger, of his strength, of his voice, of the shape of the word sweetheart in his mouth until the rush comes and you forget all about him.

It’s not until a week later that you see him again, another unofficial meeting at the video store. They stand in the x-rated section, the two of them speaking in hushed tones while half-heartedly pretending to look at the cheap pornos lined up on the shelf. The curtains for the section aren't completely closed off, giving you a clear view of them from where you stand at the aisle just outside of it, and you’ve stacked those shelves enough times to know exactly what Clint is looking at. Something inside jumps at the thought of knowing which tape caught his attention, however superficially. Barely legal babysitters, a girl that Bobby, your shithead coworker has taunted you with by saying she looked an awful lot like you.

Your brow creases when you see him idly pick up the case, watch him study the image of the bubbly girl smiling cheekily. He puts it down, and then looks back at you. Your stomach drops, but you don’t look away. Heat floods the whole of you, a cold drop of sweat following the line of your spine. They leave without a word, but the look in his eye stays with you.

The heat turns on a week after that, blessed warmth blows steadily through the vent in your room, chasing away the chill that’s haunted the whole of your house. Clint walks in with your father that night, a tight smile greeting you in the kitchen.

“Shit, I didn’t know you were home tonight.” Your dad frowns, take-out bags in his hands and something burns clean through. Anger, annoyance, embarrassment when Clint frowns in understanding.

“I never work on Thursdays.”

“Fuck. Okay well—“

“You serve yourself a full plate, and we’ll make do with the rest.” Clint speaks over your dad, that same tone you’ve heard a few times, the one that leaves no room for argument fills the tiny kitchen but you protest anyway.

“It’s fine. I can just go out and get myself something.” It should make you happy that he wants you to have some, but all you can focus on is the fact that it’s him that offers it and not your dad.

“Get yourself a plate, and fill it. Come on.” Your feet bring you to him, your hands reach for the cupboard and obey while your dad says nothing.

“That’s it sweetheart, go on, grab as much as you like.” He opens the containers and urges you, his tone softening up into something warm, something almost nurturing. You smile up at him, taking a little bit of the sticky sweet orange chicken, you huff out a laugh when he tuts at how little you take.

“That’s not enough. Don’t be shy, there you go.” He slides a few more pieces onto your plate before opening up another container.

“You want fried rice? Or just the steamed one?” His hands are scarred, his knuckles littered with the tiny silver lines of stitched over skin. His fingers are deft when they open the containers, for a second you imagine how they’d look opening up the button of your jeans, or the tiny ones on your favourite cardigan.

“Veggies too, here have some broccoli.” He tips another container, piling the shiny, bright green vegetables onto your plate while you reign your thoughts back in.

“That’s more than enough, I won’t eat all of this.” He waves you away.

“Eat.” He urges, and with a shy, tight lipped smile and less than wholesome thoughts, you sit at the table and eat.

Your dad serves himself after Clint, silently. His plate has perhaps half the food that yours does.

“I won’t eat this all, you—“

“No, that’s yours. He should’ve considered his daughter before coming home without enough food. Next time he will.” Clint eats, impervious to the sulk on your dads face.

The strangeness of it all isn’t lost on you, to have someone who is for all intents and purposes a criminal, going to bat for you against your own father. If this had happened a few years ago, if you’d been younger, more naive, you might have felt bad for your dad, you might have stuck up for him and defended his actions, but you aren’t that person. The shut off heat comes to mind, the unpaid bills over the years, the endless schemes to make a quick buck, the general neglect moves your fork across your plate.

Clint catches your eye and winks, a cheeky thing that fills your body with heat, shoos away the very idea of neglect.

Undeterred, your dad continues a previous conversation you tune out. Your eyes are fixed on the man across from you, on the breadth of his shoulders and the flex in the muscles of his jaw and neck as he chews through his bites of food.

When they leave, the thought of him lingers. The sound of his voice fills your ears when you tuck yourself in, the heat of his form beside you fills your bed like a ghost, until you fall asleep and dream of that wink.

It doesn’t register at first, but after the take-out fiasco, the meetings at your house tend to take place on Thursdays. They fill out the kitchen, talking about things you have no reference for, coded language regarding God knows what while you make yourself dinner, or tidy up, while you fold laundry on the couch. Little things pop up too, the fridge is full of food, a rare occurrence and part of you suspects that Clint is responsible. How novel, that the neighbourhood goon would push your father into providing.

It shifts eventually, from an influence on your father, to him providing directly. It starts with a coffee, a warm, sweet one from the diner down the street given to you without a word before another video store meeting. Fresh donuts on another night, breakfast before a shift on another morning and although completely confusing, it feels a bit like a feral cat bringing dead mice to your door. An offering, a courtship? You shake your head, eat the food, drink the coffee, and enjoy the donuts.

Rain pours, heavy and relentless as you finish up vacuuming the musty old carpet of the store. A loud sigh leaves your mouth, already shivering in anticipation of the short walk home in what is quickly turning into a fucking monsoon. A car pulls up in front of the store, idling just outside the door and you recognize it as Clints.

“Get in!” He shouts from the open window when you open the door, pressing yourself as close as you can to lock it without getting drenched.

With a frown you stare at him, noting the lack of your father.

“Come on, get in sweetheart, I’ll drive you home!” He reaches over, unlocking the door and you jump in as fast as you can. You don’t escape the water, despite it only being a few seconds your jacket is soaked, water droplets run down the back of your neck. He turns the heat up full blast and you’re more grateful that you know what to do with.

“Thanks, what are you doing here?” You rub your hands together in front of the vent, soaking up the warmth.

“I didn’t want you walking home in this.” His tone is simple, matter of fact. He drives slowly, the windshield wipers are working as hard as they can but the visibility is still trash.

“Why?”

“It’s pouring, you shouldn’t have to walk home in this, you shouldn’t have to walk home at all.”

“And why shouldn’t I–”

“Because.” The word comes out in a huff, almost annoyed–no, not annoyed, passionate, “If it were up to me you wouldn’t even need to work.”

Your mouth clamps shut, your mind races. Thoughts swirl as he turns slowly down your street. Heat that has nothing to do with the air blowing through the vents claws at your chest, curls in your gut and trickles to the place between your legs.

He parks outside your house, dark and lifeless, coming up out of the concrete like a rotten tooth.

“Why are you saying that?” The car rumbles, the rain pelts against everything. His eyes are hungry when they meet yours and the air in the car, in your lungs is gone.

“Because you deserve to be spoiled. You deserve to be taken care of and loved–” the words are a tide, a great big wave on the horizon of a barren desert.

“You definitely shouldn’t have to worry about bills or whether there will be heat in your house, you shouldn’t be taking care of your dad, he should be taking care of you.” A crack spreads through the veneer of the fantasy and clarity comes through. Where you thought he was confessing his feelings for you, it was actually a paternal worry.

Embarrassment burns so much hotter than desire.

“I’m fine–”

“I know, I know you’re fine but I don’t want you to just be fine. I want you to be happy, I want you to smile.” He frowns, his big hand engulfing yours and it only makes you feel worse, until he pulls you in and presses his mouth to yours. He swallows the gasp, along with an unintentional whimper. His kiss is softer than you'd ever expected, a delicate, plush press of his lips to yours until your arms drift up to slip along his neck. He feeds you a sound of his own, a low, rumbling thing as he deepens the kiss. He tilts his head and slips his tongue past your slightly open mouth, slides along yours, licks deep until you moan.

When he pulls away the world is on its ass, your heart races and your pulse pounds both in your ears and in your cunt.

His jacket thwacks onto the ground of your tiny bedroom. It’s accompanied by your soaked jacket, the discarded items surrounded by tiny pools of rainwater but you couldn’t care any less. His hands squeeze at the meat of your hips, they slide around to the small of your back, press you close to feel the heavy weight of his cock against your hip as he presses you down onto your tiny bed.

The lust, the want is so intense it drips onto your inner thighs. It clouds any and all thoughts that aren’t about his tongue licking a hot stripe up your neck, or the look on his face when he kneels between your legs, when he sees the glossy lips of your sex, the wet spread of you begging for any part of him.

His cock barely bobs, it lands like a brand against your cunt when he settles in the cradle of your hips, bracketed by your thighs. His lips engulf a nipple, his tongue swirls mercilessly around the sensitive peak and liquid fire burns clean through you. With a steady suck and a life-altering flick of that tongue he rocks his hips. His cock spreads your seam wide, coating himself in your arousal, the fat tip of it bumping your clit with every push and pull.

There isn’t enough air, there isn’t enough room in your lungs.

“So fucking wet for me huh baby?” He nudges at your nipple with his nose, his tongue licking at it again and again before he moves to the other breast. He sounds almost pained as he worships your chest, breathing hard through his nose as you stare in horny silence.

It’s so hard to focus on anything but the all-consuming heat of his mouth on your nipple, or the heavy weight of his cock against your mound but you try to take in the details of him. The scars on his golden skin, the freckles on his shoulders, the size of him on top of you, so broad he blocks the light when he moves up towards your mouth. He’s an eclipse, a dark, welcome shadow across your sky, across your life. Until him, you hadn’t realized how fucking bright everything had been, how blinding, how exposed.

“Gonna take care of you.” He kisses a path up to your neck, leaving both nipples wet and puffy. “Gonna fuck you how you deserved to be fucked, you want that?” He reaches down, pressing himself harder against your clit.

An inhuman sound comes from somewhere in your throat, the part of your brain that forms words has left the building.

He laughs, a cocky, self-assured thing.

“Come on, pretty baby, tell me. You want my dick don’t you? Because I really wanna give it to you, but I gotta hear it. You gonna be my good girl and tell me?” The tip of his dick slides deliciously over your clit and it’s so good you might come just from the stimulation, it’s already building at the base of your spine, spreading through your hips like a warm bath.

“Oh yeah, she wants me so fucking bad huh? Look at her, all wet, trying to pull me in, greedy little thing.” He moans almost to himself, looking down to watch himself tease you halfway to madness,

“Please Daddy–” It slips out, unbidden, unmistakable and panic hits like a bucket of cold water.

His eyes shoot up, silently pinning you to your bed and for a split second, you can almost pinpoint every single drop that hits your window.

“I–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I–” You scramble for a second, trying and failing to get out from underneath him. You don’t make it far, his grip tightens, his eyes dilate, a grin spreads across his handsome face.

“Oh baby, that’s what you need huh? Just a daddy to take care of you. A real one.” His lips drift across your skin as the rain pelts harder, the soft glow of your lamp casts his face in shadows at this angle, the scar on his face looks more pronounced, his normally slicked back hair falls in soft tendrils. Something swells, an emotion you can’t really parse, it lodges itself in the back of your throat.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” His kiss is gentle, his hands too, hitching your legs high on his hips. You’re wet enough that he slides right in, but the size of him bottoming out inside you makes you gasp out a surprised moan.

“Holy fuck–” You swallow thickly, breathing deep despite feeling like his dick is in your lungs.

He lets out a deep sigh, licking his lips before he looks down to see himself stretching you open on his length.

“That’s so fucking pretty, Daddy’s in there nice and deep.” His words send a shock of pleasure through your body, like a lightning strike pulling more and more liquid arousal to seep out around him. He sees it, and smiles big.

“Oh you like that, you just wanna be my baby don’t you?”

You want to answer, you want to use your words and pull him apart, make his heart race the way yours does but he pulls his hips back and thrusts in deep and every word falls out of your head, leaks out around his cock, comes out as a breathy pant.

Your inner thighs burn, sweat beads on your skin and his, the slick rhythmic noise between your legs fills the space between you along with your heavy breaths. Rain pelts outside, lightning flashes, shining a spotlight on the vulgar tableau like a spotlight, like a camera flash for an image you never want to forget.

He’s so fucking beautiful, so warm against you, so fucking hard inside you. His eyes take in the no doubt cock-dumb expression on your face and there is only desire in his gaze. The rest of the world falls away under the weight of it. One big palm skates up, squeezing at the weight of your breast, his thumb brushes against the sensitive peak before sliding up and pressing gently against the base of your throat. There is no threat, only the comforting feel of him holding you down, the reassuring feel of just how much of your skin his hand can touch at once. It sends a hot lick of desire up your spine.

“Harder–” You pull him closer, canting your hips up to meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, the blunt ends of your nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders and he pulls his lip into his mouth at the sound of your voice.

There is no preamble, no teasing, in a moment he’s up and kneeling between your legs. Those big hands are holding onto your hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting, and pulling you towards him at the same time. Your bed rocks, your breasts bounce, and your brain runs celebratory laps around itself on just how lucky you are to have found this man.

His face is a frown of concentration, mouth open, dark eyes fixed on the way you leak around him, on the way your hands scramble for purchase on anything they can reach. He grunts, moving one thigh up so your calf rests against his shoulder and the other reaches down to swirl mind-blanking circles at your clit.

“Oh god–” Your stomach tenses at the threat of pleasure looming, heat spreads and he doesn’t alter his movements, he doesn’t speed up.

“That’s it baby, come on, you can do it.” He nods at you, his eyes guiding you into the abyss, his thumb in place and it’s almost there, you can taste it.

“Come on, pretty baby–” He leans forward a little while keeping his rhythm, lining himself up and then he lets a glob of spit fall slowly over the target of his thumb and the thought, the act, the feel of that extra hot slip sends you over the edge.

Your voice breaks with it. Your body clenches tight as a bowstring, and he only grips tighter, fucks you harder, swirls his wet thumb faster. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you ride out the high, the vulgar sounds between your legs only get louder, more obscene until he pulls out, and tugs at himself in tight, fast movements. The sight of him over you, bathed in shadows and silhouetted by the streetlamp outside, his arm flexing, muscles shining with exertion while he strokes himself above you is enough to reignite that desire in your belly.

It’s only compounded when he lets out his own unadulterated moans, when he leans forward again and palms your breast, squeezing as he paints you in himself.

He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him after he comes. That constant tension you’ve come to recognize in his shoulders is gone, the scowl he wears in the video store is replaced with a serene, soft expression as he wipes his cooling come away from your skin after making his way naked and unbothered to your bathroom next door. A shyness creeps in along with the clarity of what you’ve done. Any stress you’ve leached away from him, seeps into your body the longer you lay there, naked and hyper aware of the shift in who he is to you.

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He tosses the damp washcloth into your laundry basket, but lingers beside you, sitting at the edge while you lay there, naked, damp and fidgeting.

“No, no, not at all.” You take a deep breath, try to smile but he frowns, his warm hand settles softly, lightly on your belly. You can see the way he draws up, shoulders rising with the growing tension.

“Are you upset that this happened?” There’s something slithering through the tone, through the undercurrent of his question and you can see it clear as day, doubt that you wanted this, doubt that you wanted him.

“No! No, this was, it was great, really.” Your smile is real, and his eyes are intense, trying to decipher your words and your body language. You rise, shoving down that self-conscious chatter about your body, about the fact that he can see everything.

“I–Clint, it was really good…I’m just, I’m nervous about what happens now.” Your hand holds his arm, breathing through and ignoring the mean little voice that focuses on his hand on your belly.

“What do you mean?” His thumb rubs at your skin, frown in place.

“Well, what is this?” You gesture to the two of you, “not to be that girl, but what are we? You’re working with my dad, are we dating? Was this just a one night thing? Are we going to pretend nothing happened–?” Questions spill out, word vomit in his lap like a sick cat.

“Okay, okay–” His hands land on your arms, sliding up to cup your cheeks and the tension leaves him again, a smile replaces the frown and you mirror the expression back, embarrassed.

“I am happy with whatever you want. I would prefer this wasn’t a one-time-thing, at this point I don’t even think my dick would get hard for anyone but you, sweetheart.” He pulls you forward softly, but firmly to straddle him.

“As for your dad,” He lets out an annoyed sigh against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there before shaking his head.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure he has a future in what I do.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t give you any details and you don’t ask. Your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers thread through the damp hair at the base of his skull.

“So what happens now?” he pulls you closer, his strong arms make you swoon but you focus.

“I’d like to keep seeing you. I’d like to take you out on a real date, show you off.”

“Really?” Your teeth dig into the plump of your lower lip, heat spreads through every inch of you, pooling in the parts of you that are pressed up against the parts of him.

“Yeah baby, of course, if you’d let me.” His smile is so soft, so sincere it bolsters you enough to pull you forward, his mouth begs for yours and you have no choice but to obey. It’s soft and sweet, and when you pull away your face is warm with the feelings swirling within.

“I want that too, but–”

“What is it?” His hands stroke your back, soothing, strong, reassuring.

“Can we just keep it to ourselves for a little bit? I don’t want to deal with the drama of my dad. Not just yet.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Your dad shoves himself into the kitchen an hour later, shaking himself off like a wet dog. Clint sits at your table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands and the smile, the pleasant conversation between you is gone and it’s like he’s another person.

“I��ve been looking everywhere for you.” Your dad speaks to Clint, ignoring you completely, it doesn't phase you. The clench in Clint's jaw though, that makes you smile to yourself.

“Why? I told you I would come find you.” He frowns, rising and putting his cup into the sink.

“This isn’t going to work if you aren’t going to listen to me.” He leans against the counter, pointedly staring your father down. Your father crumbles.

You rise, knowing whatever they have to speak about is none of your business.

“Thank you for the coffee, sweetheart.” He says it as you walk away, tone cold but you smile anyway. His smell lingers in your room, in your sheets, wraps itself around you as you fall asleep.

Your heart leaps, a staccato, tachycardic thing that would worry you if weren't for the recognizable shape of him entering the video store. He smiles a private smile, hands you another sweet coffee he knows you like from the diner. His fingers linger on yours when you take it from him. He pulls a warm pastry from one of the big pockets in his jacket, and gives it to you with a wink. Your face warms and suddenly, keeping this whole thing a secret seems so stupid. Every molecule of you wants nothing more than to jump over the counter and climb him like a tree, wanting to feel those strong arms wrapped around you.

Your dad walks in, and the urge dies. The thought of his expression if he saw that is enough to curdle milk.

“You busy on Thursday?” Clint asks low, uncaring and you shake your head no. “Don’t make plans.” He winks again, and then turns, and leaves you with the sweet taste of coffee in your mouth, wishing it was his tongue instead.

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timewillpasssoon · 2 days ago

Text

ETERNAMENTE !

PAIRING — bob reynolds x gen neutral!thunderbolt!reader , + family!thunderbolts

SUMMARY — ten months have passed since the thunderbolts/new avengers grouped up. a few days ago you got badly injured during one of the group missions, making you have to stay in the compound with bob- who also is staying at the tower, practicing gaining control of his powers.

WARNINGS — you/your, spoilers for thunderbolts*, mentions of abuse, child abuse, reader and bob’s poor mental health, alcohol, fighting and stabbing, knife and guns, injuries, blood, mutual pinging, suggestive, kissing/making out, hair pulling (bob receiving), no full on smut though (soon dw,,,), swearing, reader has no superpowers but has enhanced senses, lmk if i missed any !

WORDS — 9.0k

NOTE — inspired by eternamente by gal costa !!! sorry if there is spelling errors,,, also happy one year to this account ! i have like two other large Bob fics and one Bucky fic in the works, hopefully i don't lose motivation </3 anyways enjoy

this was honestly bullshit. at least that’s what you thought. you’ve haven’t been able to participate in missions for the past week since this damn injury. during a mission, your task was to make sure all civilians in and near the crumbling building were safe and sound. when entering the very large establishment, you managed to get lost while looking for more innocents lingering. then you saw someone in your peripherals, hiding, trying to attack you when you were oblivious to their presence.

having extremely enchanted reaction time, you were able to defend yourself when they tried to strike you. your arm shot up just as the pipe was about to strike your skull. pain shot through your upper arm, but with the adrenaline now pumping throughout your entire body, that pain only felt like a medium sensation. you twisted their wrist making them drop the pipe that was once held in their hand. you were quite busy kicking the metal away from them that you didn’t notice the knife they pulled out of their pocket.

with a very swift motion, the unknown person stabs your right shoulder with all their might. you scrum out a piercing roar, the pain being too much to handle. you ducked down, your right knee making contact with the dusty floor while your other leg was still bottom shoe–floor contact. your sudden movement made them dig the knife deeper into your skin. with all the panic and momentum stored inside, you grabbed their arm mid swing and twisted until their shoulder popped. their grab on the knife was none as they screamed out for help, yet that gave you more courage to continue the fight.

with them crying like a little baby you were able to sweep them off their feet (in a literal sense) and have them over your shoulder. with all the strength you had, the action of throwing their body on a nearby desk was accomplished. the wooden structure broke in half due to impact. with a knife still stuck on your shoulder you pulled out a gun on them, “you done?” was all you handled to say.

the next couple of seconds were a blur. you were going to comm Yelena and Bucky about the person who was obviously in the gang you were catching, but they quickly kicked the gun off your hands. you stammered in pain as they tried to reach for the gun now on the ground and succeed. without a second thought, they aimed it towards your head. with only half a second of reaction time, you moved to the right so the bullet wouldn’t go through your chin. yet, this movement only made the small life ending copper go through your shoulder.

immediately once the mission was complete, you were rushed to the med bay. you don’t remember much due to you automatically spacing out when the doctors and nurses were trying to stop the bleeding. once the stitching and bandaging was down, you were ordered to rest for at least a week and a half. despite all your protests, the full week and a half agenda was pushed. the guilt of having an unplanned and unprompted rest was starting to get in your head. you swore to the rest of the team that the stabbing and bullet wound didn’t affect you anymore, but Bucky wasn’t having any of that. “just a couple more days.” he would constantly say to shut down your attempts of persuasion.

although, you couldn’t really complain about your free little vacation. you got to finally relax- even if you thought it was undeserved- and Bob was there to keep you company. after the whole press announcement about the group being the “new avengers” Bob was put on hold. he decided to train so he could figure out how to control his powers and intrusive thoughts. so, that meant being stuck in the compound. whenever you asked how he thought about it, he would never complain about it. he was too perfect. quiet, shy, observant, but had those few little moments where he would shine during group hangouts. and whenever those tiny scenes played out, you couldn’t help but smile.

you distinctly this one time that pulled your heart strings.

this happened three months after the Void incident and it was finally game night. it was one of those rare days where there was no training, missions, and chores to do. so of course with all of you bored out of your minds. Alexei sat everyone down in the living room for ‘family bonding’. everyone protested in their own ways. Yelena said she was too tired to stay up, Ava saying straight up no, John being slightly intrigued despite saying “I don’t do games”.

Alexei still tries to lift their spirits up! “bah! you all complain now but soon you will laugh! bond, cry maybe.” Bucky and you are the first ones to give up the tough guy acts and just get the board games over with. Bob is soon to join the two of you, placing his half read book down and getting up from his comfortable chair, now sitting right beside you on the floor in a swift motion. your hands were placed behind your view, letting yourself lean back against your palms.

while Bob was about to sit down, he placed a hand on the ground to give himself more balance. doing that he was obviously reckless with his hand placement and next thing you know his fingers glazed on top of yours. you didn’t retreat your hand though. no, instead you darted your head at the now more nervous man beside you. finally completing his motion of sitting down, he quickly apologized in his usual scrambled manner. the way he backed away made you somewhat frown at his action. “it’s alright, don’t worry.”

the reassurance was needed to be honest. yet, you weren’t sure if he was afraid about the possibility of making you face your past or if he was genuinely appalled by the touch of you.

it had taken what felt like hours (it was really like four minutes), multiple threats to Walker, a shit load of Alexei’s persistence, and snacks for the rest of the thunderbolts to join. they either sat on the couch or floor. Alexei cheers in excitement, “that’s what i’m talking about! family!” Ava picked out the Monopoly, which should’ve been the first sign of a chaotic night, to be the game of the night.

with the group being knee deep into the game, everyone was either gaining headaches from screaming at each other, or laughing their asses off. first it was property wars. Yelena scoffed at Walker, “you bought boardwalk? so predictable.” and temu Captain America clapping back with a “it’s called strategy, Yelena. you should try it sometime.” then it was Ava being on everyone’s ass whenever they landed on her property, saying the amount they owned her with too much glee. “you know you could say it with less joy.” Bucky mumbled at her as he gave her $750 of his play money.

the next phase was getting the rules confused. well, it was mainly Walker but that was only because he was trying to cheat. occasionally Alexei would mix rules together so he could justify why he was giving himself money (he fought for the banker position). Bob with his hefty debt to you and Ava. “you owe me $750!” Ava deadpanned at Bob, which made him widen his eyes. he stammered on his words “uh- i um… i’m retired!!!” he played off a cute little smile.

you looked at him because of his change of voice tone. but his toothy smile made you continue your staring. with him being somewhat close, the distance made you really look at him.

his posture was slightly hunched forward, eyes darting between you and Ava as he gave out his excuse on why he couldn’t pay either of you. there was a softness to his features despite the obvious anxious expression. his hair was messy, mainly due to his fingers running through his own locks. the dorky smile he had plastered on his face grew slightly as he peeked at you, catching your goggling. the sudden eye contact made your chest feel weirdly warm. as half a second went by, your eyes widened, trying to respond to his response. Ava interfered with the very uncomfortable eye contact (it was only uncomfortable to the rest of the group), “you’re not retired-“

“could be,” he shrugged, his smile shrieking but it was still visible. “early retirement… because of um- emotional distress!” you squint your eyes at him, disregarding his answer once again and demanding he payed you and Ava back- mainly you. he nodded aggressively, mumbling the words “got it” under his breath and looking back at the board. yet his eyes still lingered on you for a short period of time that everyone saw. Walker makes a face and calls the two of you out, “are we playing the game or flirting?” which resulted in more arguments.

you will never forget that moment because that was the day you realized how Bob was your exact type. he was always there, yeah sure, but you never really gave it a second thought until that night. ever since then, you would steal glances his way. you liked the way he would blabber about a topic he knew too much about. or when small pieces of hair would fall on his face when he did the dishes. what you didn’t know was Bob felt your pair of eyes on him twenty-four-seven. he didn’t mind at all though. yes, it made him nervous but a good type of nervous, you know?

throughout the entirety of your small break you managed to get mildly closer with Bob. you were already close to him already, but there was still this barrier between the two of you. though, the other thunderbolts could tell there was a small lingering feeling. they noticed way before the two of you did. so, at the start of your break, the both of you were too shy to make a move. you guys would pass by in the kitchen and have that awkward moment where the two of you are facing each other and stepping on the same side thinking the other would move the other way. whenever you entered the living room and Bob was already there, he would stammer to himself before existing the large room.

it was so frustrating that you didn’t have the courage to talk to him. you could do a one versus three but you couldn’t ask a man to go get coffee with you? it made you feel pathetic. this weird feeling you were experiencing was sickening- no, straight up cruel. and it was all because of Bob.

on day four you managed to gather up the courage and go up to Bob. he was in the living room space reading a book peacefully. his eyebrows furrowed as he got more invested into the book. the way he would mouth out the words he was reading was somehow cute to you. shaking your head mentally, you cleared your throat loud enough for him to shoot his attention at you. “uh. are you hungry? do you want to go get something- anything with me?” you asked in a mild tone, pointing at the door behind yourself so your hand doesn’t awkwardly sit at your side. he takes a moment to himself before remembering to answer.

Bob’s mouth is left slightly gaped, “you should be restin-“ without a thought you interrupt his shirt sentence, stumbling on your own words now. the words ‘i’m okay now’ or something along those lines leaving your quivering lips. despite the cold stoic expression on your face, mentally you were freaking out. you face palmed yourself for the unnecessary hesitation laced in your words.

“i mean it. a walk outside won’t break my shoulders, would it?” Bob nodded at your statement. he didn’t like the thought of you being hurt- or any of the other thunderbolts! the determination on your face that seeped out made him feel that you were telling the truth. i mean, you were right. no harm in a simple snack run!

”yeah. okay...” his soft smile that you could stare at for hours appears on his face. he jolts up and follows you outside the building and the two of you head to the nearest coffee shop after a few moments of thinking what to get.

the two of you began walking in silence. although the quiet was comforting to Bob, it wasn’t to you since you were trying to start a conversation. with a topic idea finally coming to you, you ask him what he was reading. he plays it off, the tone of his voice soft and quiet. he gives you the book title, and with you obviously wanting the conversation to move forward, ask what it’s about. he hadn’t expected that follow-up question.

he thought you only wanted to make small talk, but the way you gazed at him, that assumption was out the window. his shoulders relaxed a bit, explaining the book in the best way possible. his arms flopping around as he made little features that completed his words. “honestly it’s… kind of beautiful. sad, yeah- but not in a hopeless way!” you hummed quietly, still enchanted by his wittiness. the way he explained the book piqued your curiosity, making you ask questions here and there. he, obviously, answered them in the most gentle way.

Bob gave a small soft smile your way. once his eyes met yours, he was stunned that you were actually listening and engaged in this conversation. there was a familiar flicker in his eyes. the same emotion that you had.

“you can have it- the book- i already read it two times!” you smiled at the gesture, and without realizing you nodded at his request. “i’m down.” your guys’ steps synchronized with one another’s. the silence washed over you guys once more, but this time the silence was comfortable- easier to sit on.

the small bakery’s door was in front of you. being a person with basic manners, you open the door for the nervous tall man that accompanied you on this journey. he muttered a thankful “thank you”. once the both of you entered the cozy room establishment, the two of you looked at the menu on top of the cashier. the worker welcomed the two of you, letting the both of you have a moment to yourselves.

“do you know what you want?” your head tilted towards his body, your sight still fixated on the options ahead of you. Bob let out a muffled whimper, “mmh- i think so…” you nodded at his answer and headed towards the worker. Bob quickly followed you like a lost puppy. placing your own order, you step to the side so Bob can choose for himself. after paying and waiting, the two of you decide to eat at the tower- there being more known to the both of you.

the empty living room was expected. Bucky, Ava, and Walker were on a mission while Alexei and Yelena were on another. you speed walk to the couch, placing the bag or pastries on the coffee table as well as your drink right beside it. today felt too peaceful. the low ruckus of the city outside, the warm orangey-yellow glow of the lamps, and Bob’s quiet footsteps behind you.

he hovered awkwardly near the arm of the couch, unsure whether to sit or wait for permission to do so.

you plopped down and leaned back with a soft sigh. “wanna watch a movie?” you glanced up at him, a spark of boldness slipping past your usual self. Bob blinked, surprised. he shifted from foot to foot, the hesitation practically oozing off him. “uh… yeah. i mean, if you want. i’d-… yeah.” you cracked a smile at his yes, also because of his nervous structure. patting the empty spot beside you, the remote was now in your hand after a quick search for it. The smile remained on your face as he shattered on the couch, “you get to pick.” Bob’s mouth slightly opened yet no sound came out, then lowered himself onto the other end of the couch as if it might crumble beneath him. he reached for the remote, your fingertips grazing each other. quietly scrolling through the options while you stole little glances at his profile. the soft slope of his nose and the way his brows furrowed as he read the movie titles. there was something so careful about the way he moved, like he was always afraid of taking up too much space. you found it cute.

you shifted slightly, not enough to startle him, just enough to nudge your leg a little closer to his. he noticed. of course he did. you caught the way his eyes flicked down, the subtle inhale through his nose, the quick return of his gaze to the screen. He picked out a random movie. the both of you had no idea of its existence.

the once empty screen was now broadcasting the opening scene of this unknown movie. you leaned forward, offering Bob another bite of your pastry, out of habit. he gave you a sheepish smile, shaking his head. “i’m good. uh- thanks, though.” trying to mirror his smile you accepted his rejection. with the gentlest lean, under the idea of getting more comfortable, your shoulder now brushing just slightly against the edge of his. yes, it did slightly sting, but it was going to be worth it. the silence stretched.

still, Bob said nothing.

you let the warmth of the moment settle around you like a blanket, your fingers inching a little closer to his on the cushion between you. and Bob… didn’t move his hand away. just as you were about to make a move on Bob, by trying to interlock your fingers with his, Alexei and Yelena burst through. it was mostly Alexei who rushed in. he let out a loud “WOOH!” alongside a bunch of small laughing fits. a concerned Yelena was behind him, “you need to go to the med bay.” her tone was harsh, but genuinely uneasy about his physical state. Bob, who gets started whenever Walker smacks the fridge door shut a little too hard, obviously got freaked out by this sudden nuisance.

his hand that was once on the couch cushion is now interlocked with his other hand… great! Alexei stumbled a little but held his arms up in victory. he made eye contact with you and Bob, ignoring Yelena’s concerns entirely. “you should’ve seen it! i threw a guy into a dumpster. headfirst!” his iconic dad laugh piercing everyone’s ears. Yelena, unimpressed and exasperated, pressed a hand to his side. “you are bleeding, you idiot.”

Alexei waved her off like she was being dramatic. a somewhat hurt expression on his face. “that's no way to talk to your father!” he pointed at himself while the last word left his mouth. then, noticing the way you and Bob practically split apart like guilty teenagers, Alexei paused. his eyes narrowed. interrupting Yelena’s pestering, he loudy asked “-wait a second… did i interrupt something?” everyone but his own eyes were on the giant bloody gash on his right arm.

you and Bob immediately shot up in sync, voices overlapping in awkward unison. “no!”

you glanced at Bob, who looked just as horrified to have blurted it as you felt. clearing your throat to recover your composure, you motioned vaguely toward the TV. “we were about to watch a movie,” you muttered, tone overly casual. Yelena, hands on her hips, arched a brow and gave Alexei a knowing look. Alexei grinned, practically glowing with glee. “ohhh, were you now?” he teased, eyes twinkling with mischief. “young love is in the air, eh Yelena?”

Yelena sighed, but her smirk betrayed her amusement. “mmhmm.” she said, voice deadpan as she gave you both one last glance, then turned Alexei around by the shoulders. “let’s go. before you bleed on the nice furniture.”

as Alexei stumbled forward with Yelena guiding him, he turned over his shoulder to shout, “don’t let us stop you! just pretend we were never here!” the door finally closed behind them, but the silence that followed was no longer soft and inviting. it was fragile… like glass was between the two of you. glass that was easily breakable, yet the both of you didn’t dare to break it- even touch it.

you both now stared at the screen. the movie played on, the main character now on screen doing god knows what. you shifted, slightly, settling back into the cushions with a hush exhale. Bob didn’t say anything. he kept his eyes on the screen, hands folded in his lap like he was in a business meeting. the space between you wasn’t that wide, but it felt like miles. the warmth from before was extremely cooled from that little show Alexei and Yelena preformed. no shoulder brushing. no hands creeping closer.. just two people, trying to pretend like they hadn’t just almost held hands like squeaky teenagers.

day five was alright. it was the morning after your little movie night. remember? the one where you and Bob sat too close? yet you didn’t touch nor speak about it. pretended the movie was the highlight of the night when, really it was the almost-moment you shared before it crashed and burned. do you remember?

existing your barely refurbished room. the smell of sweet breakfast croissants and warm syrup drifted throughout your hallway. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, feet dragging on the floor. as you walk towards the kitchen, plastic bags could be seen on the kitchen island. you automatically assumed that someone ordered breakfast.

your tired gaze landed on Yelena, who leaned against the counter, a smug smirk plastered on her face, while Bob stood awkwardly across from the cocky woman. his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. he had an embarrassed look on his face anyone could decode. Bob’s head turned when he heard your rushed footsteps. his shoulders perked up.

“good morning!” he said with that soft smile of his. the same one that makes you melt inside. your heart skipped- of course it did. “ mornin’.” you replied, trying to sound chill, but it came out a little breathless… real smooth. Yelena snorted into her iced coffee like she’d just read both your minds. “i was just asking Bob,” she said, pointing a finger at the man in front of her, “that i am heading to those pet stores to buy stuff for my baby. want to join us?” her baby obviously being the guinea pig she found before we knew Bob. Yelena had a look of ‘go with my lie’ that was daggered onto Bob. his confused face now turned into an obvious cover up. He mumbled a ‘yeah’. the finger once pointing at Bob, now pointing to one of the plastic bags on the counter, her eyes had a look saying ‘help yourself’.

you covered your mouth, yawning right after, nodding as you did so. “sure, i don't have a mission to go on, so...” making your way to the plastic bags to grab one of the boxes. as your fingers brushed one of the styrofoam covers, Bob leaned forward instinctively to help, but your hands met halfway. a light touch. nothing major. barely a second. you both froze. just like the night before, there was that moment. unspoken, electric, warm. Bob gave you a soft look. one that said he wasn’t sure if this was allowed, but hoped it was.

you pulled your hand back gently, not too fast.

Yelena squinted at the both of you, then grinned so smugly. “i’m just gonna… take this food to my room. far from whatever this weird thing is,” she muttered, “were leaving at two.” and walked off, sipping loudly from her straw.

that left just you and Bob.

you stared at the box in your hands like it was going to offer advice.

“so…” you said, glancing up at him.

“so,” he echoed, already fidgeting with the string on his hoodie.

the silence stretched, but not in an awkward way.

you both just… stood there for a beat, clutching your respective food containers. neither of you spoke, but you weren’t exactly avoiding each other’s eyes either.

Bob’s lashes were longer than they had any right to be. his hair was still a little messy from sleep. floppy, kind of soft looking, like he’d just rolled out of bed. there was a faint flush on his cheeks. the yellow and orange tones radiating from the morning sun casted onto his tall figure. he looked good in the morning light.

Bob’s eyes flicked over your features too. they were lingering a bit too long on the corner of your mouth. he was mentally bookmarking everything about you. he opened his mouth once. a brief moment of courage sparked in his face-

“ayy! what’d i miss?”

-Bob’s spark dimmed almost immediately. the loud, screechy voice of Walker barreled through the hallway as he marched into the room. behind him came Ava, tying her hair up in a messy ponytail, looking more awake than either of the three. she nodded in your direction, then squinted at the two of you seated side by side.

Bob blinked like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. his once gaped mouth was completely shut now. Walker made his way to the plastic bags in front of the two flushed humans. he furrowed his eyes, pointing his head up so he could face Bob and you while his hands grabbed a styrofoam box filled with breakfast. “why does this feel weird in here?” he asked, looking between you two. “you guys fight or something?”

“no?” you said too quickly.

“no!” Bob added, way too in sync with you.

Ava gave you both a long, slow look, then leaned on the island, clearly amused. “oh. i get it,” she said, “you sat too close during your little movie night, didn’t you? almost kissed or some dumb crap like that?” her voice was light but teasing, the kind that made your stomach flip for all the wrong reasons. Yelena definitely told her what happened when she and Alexei barged in. you’ll have to remember to get back at her. Bob nearly choked on his own breath. “wha- no, that’s not-”

you accidentally cut Bob off, “excuse me?” Ava just laughed in both of your faces. “you so did..”

Walker squinted, chewing on a piece of croissant, his mouth too full to make a comment. Bob looked like he wanted to disappear into his hoodie. he was trying to keep his cool, but the tips of his ears were visibly red now. “we were just... watching a movie.”

“sure,” Ava said, dragging out the word. she held her box in one hand, a drink in the other, and gave you both a mock salute. “well. we’re taking this to the training room. the silence here is giving me second hand tension.”

Walker was already halfway to the door. “you guys figure your stuff out or whatever.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but Ava held up a hand without turning around. “don’t care. bye, lovebirds.”

the door shut behind them. leaving you and Bob alone, with nothing but a comfortable- yet anxious- conversation about to arise.

the rest of the day was a breeze. Yelena picking and choosing what her little baby needed- more like what she wanted, but you weren’t going to tell her that- while you and Bob were just yes men when she needed two second opinions.

oh but day six. oh lord day six was heavenly for your eyes.

the training room was fairly quiet despite a breathless Bob training in there. you hadn’t really planned to go in. honestly, you were just passing because you had to go to the med bay so you could re-wrap your shoulder wounds. strolling through the hall, you see the door wide open, a wooden door wedding stopping it from closing. once your body was directly blocking the door, you saw Bob inside. he was already mid-workout, a focused expression etched on his face. he hadn’t noticed you at first. his back was towards you, muscles flexing with every movement as he practiced strikes on one of the padded dummies. you stepped in silently, leaning on the edge of the door frame, eyes glued to the way he moved.

he soon stopped his punching, his breath out of control. in a swift motion, he faced his whole body towards the door- where you were at-, tugging the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his forehead. that damn shirt. it lifted enough to show the cut of his abs, the glisten of sweat trailing down his toned torso. your gaze lingered maybe a second too long and Bob finally noticed you once the cloth was out of his clutch. his smile twitched, a little embarrassed expression could be seen on his face.

he paused, chest rising and falling with deep breaths you were too familiar with. the faint smile on his lips is still visible. “oh! i didn’t notice you! ” he spoke out, voice a little breathless.

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks betrayed you. “i was... passing by. sorry.”

he nodded, clearly not believing you. “right.” neither of you said anything after that. he went back to punching the dummy. you didn’t leave.

day seven and eight were just as special to the both of you. the warmth and comfortable silence between you guys was impeccable. you talked about anything that came to your minds. and the other would engage in said conversation.

something had shifted, softly, naturally. the tension that once sat heavy between you and Bob, awkward and skittish, had melted into something quieter. something safer. eight months ago, every accidental touch was followed by a quick retreat, with Bob frantically saying sorry, being scared that he may send you back to cursed memories. but now… now it is different. now, when your hands brushed when the both of you tried to grab a cup, or walking side by side with your knuckles brushing against the other’s, it didn’t feel like a mistake.

there was a moment, on day seven, in the hallway outside the armory. you had both reached for the same door handle while being too carried away in the conversation. your fingers met, overlapped. but this time, neither of you moved away. his thumb grazed your knuckle, slow and warm, and you didn’t flinch. you didn’t even look away. Bob gave you a soft, almost sheepish smile, like he was still surprised he was allowed to linger. but you moved through the door together. the conversation did not stop one bit. this felt normal. you liked when he stood a little closer now, like it was natural to take up space next to you. the way his laugh softened when it was just the two of you. something was building- something good.

day nine.

it was another regular fun day. the morning was utter chaos because Alexei decided to cook breakfast for everybody. flour was everywhere, Yelena trying to read the instructions of the pancake mix box, Ava bumping her head on the kitchen counter when trying to pick up the falling eggs, and Walker yelling, “i swear to god if someone throws another spatula-” just before someone did throw another spatula. everybody was laughing. this was a family. the family you never got to have- the one you deserved.

the pancakes ended up looking like abstract art and tasting a bit too salty- for some odd reason, but everyone still ate them. you were sitting on the counter, legs swinging slightly as you watched the group argue over whether or not the pancakes were edible. Bob stood beside you, plate in hand, picking at a lumpy one.

“these taste like salt water…” he said, chewing slowly. you tried not to laugh but failed, covering your mouth with your hand. “you’re being dramatic.” Bob looked at you with that soft, amused expression you were starting to know too well. “he’s being honest! who put salt in this!?” Walker busted out as he tried his best to swallow the big piece in his mouth. Yelena whipped around from the stove with a wooden spoon in hand, wiggling it as she spoke. “you try making pancakes while Alexei’s screaming about protein and Ava’s throwing eggs at the wall!”

“it was one egg!” Ava shouted from the floor, still rubbing her forehead. “and my hand slipped!” no one believed her, obviously. Alexei puffed his chest proudly. “in Soviet Russia, pancakes eat you!” Bucky scoffed, not daring to touch another salty pancake.

“yeah ‘cause no one in their right mind would eat these.”

the afternoon was filled to the brim with training. you had to beg Bucky to let you join the rest of the group. “my shoulders are FINE!” and after pestering him for a decent amount of time, he budged. although you knew everyone would go easy on you, that didn’t matter.

the sky outside had dimmed to that deep navy blue, the compound settled into a calm, tired hum. everyone had broken off after training to shower, change, and unwind. Walker had declared himself starving three times before the group finally agreed on takeout. a debate about which place to order from led to a chaotic argument before they all shuffled out the door. Ava making a snide comment with a pointed glance at you and Bob, Yelena grinning knowingly. Alexei offered a dramatic thumbs-up. and just like that, the door shut behind them.

you and Bob were left behind. not a purpose, definitely. the poor excuse Yelena made was that someone needed to take care of her baby- and that someone was you and Bob.

you both migrated to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with soft sighs. the air between you wasn’t heavy or awkward. it was warm. the TV played something neither of you were really watching, and conversation picked up like it always did. something dumb, lighthearted. “that was back when i was getting used to this whole ‘being in the spotlight’ thing.” you said, smirking as you leaned back on the couch. “but now that i look back on it… it’s very cringy.” Bob laughed, the sound being very genuine.

you were mid-laugh when the sharp sting flared through your shoulder. your body tensed, face twisting as you accidentally pressed too much weight against the injury. the laughter died on your lips, and you winced. you drew in a slow breath through your nose as you tried to be nonchalant.

Bob immediately became alerted, an alarm flickering across his face. “hey- hey, are you okay?” you nodded quickly, biting down the discomfort. “yeah. yeah, just leaned on it too hard. It’s not much of a stresser, i've been through worse.” trying to lighten up the mood once again. the comfortable air immediately dimmed once the small whimper left your mouth.

he blinked, frowning. “worse? like what?” the word echoed softly, almost unsure. his brows furrowed, curious about your past. he never knew about, didn’t cross his mind since he was so scared of triggering a horrible memory lane when touching you. and then he seemed to catch himself. “i mean- i shouldn’t have asked that. sorry. i didn’t mean to,”

“it’s okay,” you cut in gently, your voice softer now. you said a little more confident, hand pressed against the sore spot. you didn’t look at him right away. “you can ask.” Bob didn’t speak, but he stayed close. he didn’t want to push your boundaries. after a beat of silence, you started to talk. at first, it was just vague words. the kind that circled around the truth without landing on it. you mentioned the pain that started all of this. you mentioned places you would never forget. with a tone Bob understood too well. his eyes never left yours. they were soft and sad. not with pity, but with that kind of deep, quiet empathy that comes from knowing.

you already knew Bob’s story. the Void rooms made sure of that. you knew the weight he carried, the things that broke him. you knew more unfortunate details than the rest of the group.

three months ago.

it had been one of those rare nights where everyone let their guard down. the mission was successful so everyone was relieved. the mood was unusually good. someone, probably Yelena, suggested drinks in the common room, and no one fought her on it. bottles were passed around, music played low from someone's phone speaker, and everyone fell into soft laughter and slurred confessions. Ava and Walker were in the middle of a heated debate about what counted as a sandwich. Alexei was passed out on a bean bag with a half-empty beer still loosely in hand. the night was soaked in the kind of hazy comfort that made even the haunted feel a little human again.

you and Bob had drifted toward a quieter corner of the room, the lights dimmer there, shadows softer. you sat cross-legged on the floor, your back to the wall, with your third drink still untouched beside you. Bob sat across from you, knees bent, arms resting on them casually. he looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in a while. maybe it was just the moment.

he was the one who broke the silence first.

“i used to sit like this under my porch when i was a kid,” he said quietly, looking down at the floor like it was somewhere far away. you rose your head once sounds came out his mouth. he continued, “i’d sneak out at night and just… sit. pretend i was somewhere else.”

you tilted your head. the alcohol consuming your voice, “why under the porch?”

he shrugged, his expression faintly amused, faintly sad. “it was the only place nobody bothered me. ’m dad didn’t care enough to come looking. house was small. loud. angry.”

you stayed quiet, letting him keep going if he wanted. and he did.

“sometimes i’d just lay there, listening to the world and pretending i wasn’t in mine… until my dad would come and force me back inside. dragin’ me inside..”

your fingers fidgeted slightly, heart softening with every word. he was drunk. already on his fourth drink and the consumption was making him speak his mind. you thought that he wouldn’t want to share this in a sober state, but you were wrong. he wanted to be… open. honest.

Bob’s shoulders dropped slightly, not with defeat but with a strange kind of relief. he kept going, the toxic liquid making it easier to swallow the words he’s been dying to tell someone else. the sad details whenever his father would abuse him or his mother. it caused him pain, so you listened. all your attention on him and his story.

he stopped speaking after his background got to the part where he moved to Malaysia. his shoulder stiffened, “i didn’t talk about it for a long time. thought if i buried it deep enough, it wouldn’t matter. then the Void rooms…” he trailed off, eyes flicking up to meet yours. he had that tiny smile he would always do whenever he was at a loss for words. “you saw it too.”

you gave a slow nod. “i did.”

“you didn’t look at me any different afterward… did you?” you still gave him those smiley eyes you gave him back at the vault Valentina sent you in.

“i never would.”

he paused for a moment, remembering all the pain his father caused him. all the built up anger he had because of the man who hit him every chance he got. yet, he released the tension in his shoulders. his eyes filled with terrible nostalgia. “…’m sorry.” you shook your head at his apology. “you don’t have to be.”

you reached out his hand, which was on the floor to make sure he didn’t tumble down. he was too indulged in his mind to notice. or to care.

and that was it. he didn’t say thank you. he didn’t need to. the air between you was already filled with understanding. two people, each with their share of dark stories, sitting quietly in the middle of the night while the rest of the world carried on in laughter and debate.

you won’t forget the look he gave you… so gentle, like you were something precious he didn’t know how to hold yet. that stayed with you for days.

that’s why it was easy to speak now. because he wouldn’t try to fix you. he would just listen, like how you listened to him. his torso angled towards you, his hand resting between you two on the couch, close but not touching. when you finally stopped talking, the silence wasn’t empty. it was full of things neither of you needed to say. Bob’s face had contorted somewhere in the middle of your explanation. his brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight, something raw in his eyes. as if he wanted to take every wound from your past and carry it himself.

you gave him a small, tired smile. “you don’t have to say anything,” you said. “just… being here’s enough. sorry.”

Bob moved slowly, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. his hand finally reached for yours, the backs of his fingers brushing gently against your skin, testing the waters. when you didn’t pull away, he threaded his fingers through yours properly, his positioning more comfortable. secure but gentle. there was something so patient about him, like he’d wait forever if you needed him to. the silence between you two wasn’t awkward… it was full of understanding. full of everything that didn’t need words.

you shifted closer without really thinking. something in you just wanted to be near him, physically, emotionally, in every way you’d been too scared to admit. Bob noticed, opening his arms slightly, an unspoken offer. and you went in, resting your head against his right shoulder, your good arm draped across his chest as his arms circled you in return. you both just held on, unmoving, like that stillness was the only thing holding you both together. you felt the weight in his breathing. two people broken into half, trying to hold each other together.

“we’ll get through it,” you murmured, your voice small but sure. “all of it. you, me… the others too.” you smiled against the fabric of his shirt. “even if the therapy bill’s gonna be astronomical.” that made him laugh, really laugh. sincere and something in you bloomed. you laughed too, maybe because he did, but it didn’t matter- that warmth was real.

after a moment, the laughter faded into a soft, quiet moment. he pulled back from the hug. not fully, just enough so your faces hovered inches apart. so close you could see the pure blue in his eyes, the way his expression softened just for you. his hand cupped your cheek like he wasn’t sure he could. your breath caught, not because you were nervous, but because you wanted this. you’d wanted this for so long it hurt.

his voice was just above a whisper. “can… uh- can i kiss you?”

you didn’t speak. you looked at him, memorizing his soft lips. the way his gaze traveled from your eyes to your lips. the tracking was slow, he was giving you every second to pull away. but you didn’t, couldn’t. all you could do was slightly nod at his questions.

Bob gulped, barely audible, but visible in the tight movement of his throat. his breath hitched just enough for you to notice. his eyes searched your face once more. it was as if he wasn’t sure this moment was real or if he would wake up from a dream. his thumb brushed your cheek so gently it made you ache. you could feel the hesitation in him, the way his body wanted to close the distance but his mind was still asking if this is okay. if he deserves this.

then, slowly… so slowly, you watched the uncertainty in his eyes flicker into something else. not confidence exactly, but a quiet uplight. his head tilted just slightly, and his lips brushed yours with the kind of softness that made your chest squeeze. a light touch, almost like he didn’t believe he was allowed it, but the moment your lips met, something in him exhaled. Bob’s hand curled a little firmer against your cheek. the kiss deepened, not in intensity, but in presence. there was a growing certainty in the way he leaned into you. like he was realizing that yes, this was real. and you weren’t going anywhere.

it wasn’t a quick kiss. it wasn’t frantic or uncertain. it was deep, slow, and emotional. as if he meant it to tell you something words never could. his lips were warm against yours, the contact tender but solid, like he was grounding you both in that exact moment. yet when he leaned in, and your lips met… something in you hesitated. you didn’t lunge in right away.

your lips stayed just barely there, your body still as your thoughts caught up to you all at once. not because you didn’t want this. fuck, you wanted it. had wanted it for longer than you were ever brave enough to admit. but suddenly, panic whispered in the back of your mind. what if this ruins things? what if this kiss turns all the warmth between you into something awkward? you and Bob had become something so rare… so safe. comforting. real. what if one kiss cracked it apart? you felt like you weren’t ready for a relationship. your state of mind being in shamble, you couldn’t bear hurting Bob.

and underneath that fear was another, heavier truth: you weren’t okay. not completely… your mind was still a mess of cracked mirrors and half-healed wounds. you were still walking through the smoke of everything you’d survived, still trying to convince yourself it wasn’t your fault, that healing didn’t make you weak. and Bob. he wasn’t okay either. you could see it in his eyes every time someone brought up the past. you were both survivors of different hells, still bleeding in ways no one could see. and the idea of starting something that required vulnerability, balance, effort. it terrified you. so yeah. it was not because you didn’t want him, but because you did.

Bob noticed your absence. his lips stilled against yours, then slowly pulled back, just an inch. his eyes opened, searching your face with a flicker of concern, maybe even regret. the worry in his expression wasn’t about himself, but you. it was written all over him, in the slight tension of his jaw, the retreat of his touch. he thought you’d changed your mind. that he crossed a line.

but the moment you saw that flicker in his expression, saw him start to fold in on himself, you snapped out of it. you surged forward before he could retreat any further, placing a hand on each side of his face, cradling him with a kind of urgency that felt like it had been building in your chest for months.

you kissed him back just as carefully, your fingers tightening around his. the ache in your shoulder dulled beneath the rush of warmth curling in your chest. your lips moved against his with more weight, more heat, more emotion. Bob let out the softest exhale, like he’d been holding his breath. and this time, there was no hesitation in him. it was intimate in a way that made your heart clench.

this wasn’t just a kiss. it was everything you’d both buried beneath late-night conversations, shared glances, unspoken understanding. there was longing in it. not just for each other, but for connection. for a future that didn’t feel so lonely. Bob’s hands came up to your waist, grounding you as he deepened the kiss, pulling you just a little closer until your foreheads nearly touched. his lips slowed again, dragging gently against yours like he didn’t want to let go.

you shifted again, getting almost unbearably close to him now. Bob didn’t move as you nudged closer.

his hand splayed out on your back, twitching against the fabric that covered it as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. you angled your head to the side, deepening the kiss. your eagerness encourages him, syncing with the way you moved against him. the kiss broke apart, that being your choice. his hair was splattered around even more than before this mess happened.

when your hand slid further into his hair, and tugging the strands, he let out the smallest, softest moan. it was so quiet and desperate it sounded like it had been buried within him for centuries. it only made you shift yourself towards him even more. the sound settled low in your stomach, warm and aching, and without thinking, you shifted closer. your knees brushed his thighs, and you climbed into his lap, straddling him slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of a choice you couldn’t take back. his hands found your waist instinctively, holding you there like he’d been waiting for this, for you, and wasn’t sure he was allowed to ask. the space between the both of you vanished entirely now, breaths mingling, your forehead brushing his. being this close, feeling the solidness of him beneath you, was grounding, safe.

his eyes never left yours, he kept every ounce of attention on you, waiting for your next action, hanging on every moment. his breath hitched when you finally closed the gap once more.

Bob’s hand slid beneath the bottom of your shirt, his fingers traced small shapes on your skin that managed to send shivers through your body. you felt the muscles in his arm shift as he pulled you even closer than you already were. the gap can't even be called a gap. now, you two were chest-to-chest. to the point that you felt his literal heartbeat pulse through your own chest. his hand tensed against your soft skin.

without thinking, you moved your hips to test the friction. Bob noticed this sudden reaction and leaned towards it. he spoke, a worried and questionable tone noticeable, “is this right?” you nodded, not pulling away from this crime scene. “yes-”

his lips returned to yours with new urgency, not rough or greedy, just deeper. like he was pouring something sacred into the space between you. his tongue brushed yours and you moaned into his mouth this time, your hands tugging again at his hair. you felt like your whole body was humming, pulsing with something electric and raw.

you could taste his breath, warm and a little shaky, could feel the slight tremble in his hands where they gripped your waist. when he sucked your bottom lip, your fingers continued to tug his hair, and the groan that left his throat was sinful. soft but devastating. you felt dizzy, drunk on the heat building between you, the tension that had stretched for months finally snapping, unraveling like it never wanted to end.

then. footsteps. loud ones.

a group of voices followed. Yelena’s unmistakable laugh carried through the corridor, loud and chaotic and startlingly close. you both froze, lips still pressed together but unmoving, breath lodged somewhere between your lungs and your throat. another voice followed. someone else from the group, joking, teasing, unaware of what they were about to stumble into if they came any closer.

you pulled back with a sharp inhale, Bob’s lips were swollen and wet with your saliva, his pupils blown wide with want. he was breathless, like he’d just come up from deep underwater, and you mirrored the same sentiment: gasping, flushed, chest rising and falling in uneven patterns. your hands remained on either side of his face, and he blinked at you like he couldn’t process how the world was still spinning outside of this.

“shit-” you breathed, your voice a mix of panic and disbelief.

you scrambled off of Bob’s lap, nearly tripping over yourself as you grabbed a pillow and sat beside him instead, trying to act casual while your heart was still sprinting inside your chest. Bob ran a hand through his hair, making it worse, and shifted on the couch to sit up straighter, trying to regulate his breathing. your hair was tousled, cheeks flushed, and you didn’t need a mirror to know exactly how wrecked you looked.

the door flung open a second later, and the group filed into the room. Yelena first, still laughing from something John had said. but the second they laid eyes on the two of you, everything slowed. their eyes did a quick sweep.

Bob’s ruffled hair, your flushed face, the heat still radiating between you both like static. no one said anything at first. the room filled with a charged silence, and then…

“oooh,” Yelena sang, narrowing her eyes with an enormous smirk. “what did we interr-”

Bob turned bright red, stammering as he leaned forward, elbows on knees like he was trying to act normal. “nothing. we were just… talking.”

“talking?” John echoed with a snort. “man, if that’s what talking looks like, i need to have more conversations.”

you tried to hide behind the pillow you’d grabbed earlier, biting back a mortified grunt. your lips still tingled, and your heart refused to slow. Bob peeked at you from the corner of his eye, and even with the embarrassment thick in the air, there was something incredibly warm beneath it all. like whatever just happened between you didn’t feel like a mistake, no matter how messy the timing had been.

but the teasing that was about to happen would be a death sentence to you both.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob thunderbolts #bob thunderbolts x reader #robert “bob” reynolds x reader #thunderbolts imagine #thunderbolts + reader #family!thunderbolts #thunderbolts #lewis pullman x reader #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts fluff #this is lowk buns #bob reynolds fic #bob reynolds fluff #bob reynolds x y/n #bob reynolds imagine #robert reynolds imagine

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hayw1res · 9 months ago

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𖦹 ` 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝅄 ; synopsis : von lycaon is a true gentleman, he would never act on his selfish desires on his master. that is until mating season rolls around…

𝅄 ; warnings : 18+ , knotting , mating press , mentions of breeding “pregnancy and pups” , p in v , unprotected sex , light predator x prey , slight dubcon but everything is consensual , animalistic urges , slight fluff at the end

𝅄 ; a/n : my first fic on this account, i do hope you enjoy! my requests are open of course. not proofread ; sorry for any errors!

NEW ERIDU, is home to many individuals and home to many different factions. One of those being Victoria Housekeeping . You found yourself at the mercy of those individuals from time to time, especially the ever so proper Von Lycaon. A gentleman through and through , who isn’t afraid of protecting his dear master from the depths of the hollows where you often find yourself after conducting research.

Now, you knew better not to get too involved in any of his personal business, but when he sent a sudden notice of absence it worried you. Why on earth would he need to leave? For how long? What was wrong with him? You had to know, as his close friend and well.. esteemed patron. That’s what lead you to meet at the place you knew would have your answers. Strangely enough, none of the girls were home either, not even Ms Alexandrina.

It sent a shiver down your spine as you crept through the empty halls, it was silent..eerie. It was almost perfect for their faction at least but even for them this seemed a little far fetched. A little too silent for your liking. You could hear the way your heel clicked and clacked against the concrete floor beneath you. It was dark, the sun set a while ago..the moon shined bright through one of the cracked windows, the cold hair caused your hairs to raise and goosebumps to form. Why was everything suddenly so much scarier?

You just needed to find Lycaon and deliver the basket of treats you made for him , to hopefully quell whatever illness he described in his latest message as to why he had to be distant for a while. You turned the corner, only a few feet away from the room of the wolf thiren when you heard a growling. It pierced through your ears as the only thing breaking the eerie silence, that and now your increased heartbeat. You gasp, It sounded like he was in pain.. you didnt want him to feel pain anymore! You were just here to help.

You pick up the pace almost speed walking to his door, it was locked. You turn the handle again and again, calling out to him to let you in! To let you cure his sickness. Oh how naive and ignorant you are. The wolf was no longer the pristine and well groomed man you usually met , but more an untamed beast of pure and undeniable lust. The door swung open, almost off its hinges as he towered above you. Did he get taller? His chest was exposed, his once clean attire was discarded in rags behind him. He panted , his fangs almost dripping in saliva as he looked at you like you were his meal.

You didnt know why your legs burned as you ran away from the beast, you didn’t even know why you were running to begin with. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you heard his heavy footsteps behind you, no less giving you a lead. You knew Lycaon could catch up to you if he truly wanted to. But this wasn’t Lycaon this was someone—something else. You blanked, which way did you come from? Where were you? You made the mistake of standing idle while an animal hunted you. His breathing was ragged in your ear as his clawed hand tightened around you waist yet he didnt hurt you, in fact it was the opposite.

“Stay.” He finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable as the rest of his appearance. His fur was unkept, his eyes were almost completely black as he stared down at you..but the small part of him was still there- that still wanted to protect you, his master. He knew exactly how to, he knew how to protect you from everyone else, everyone who wasn’t him—every other thiren or human out there who dared to claim you. No. He would do it first before them all.

Completely compromised, you’re almost forced in position with your face touching the hard cold floor and his hands forcibly tearing apart your garments. You squeal, you try and break free and tell Lycaon to calm down! Your pleads fall deaf to his ears, the only sense he can make out is your scent. Arousal, fear.. it was a deadly mix for a wolf, it made him crave you more. His hands were somehow soft against your plush skin, playing with the fat of your thighs as he forced your body in every position he could until he was satisfied. You couldn’t help but feel your core leak at the sight of him when you’re finally on your back. His cock was large and swelling, pulsing over your entrance as he tried to hold back every urge he could until he knew you were ready.

His long digits found way into your core, it stun as he dragged them in and out, you knew you needed more than this you needed him. “Ly—Lycaon” You’d call, forcing him to throw out every thought telling him to take his time. You needed him as he needed you, and who was he to deny his master their desire? He almost couldn’t resist when your walls clamped around his thick member, his saliva dripped down onto your exposed chest- coating your mounds with the liquid as his hand came up to massage it in. His pace began slowly, he still cared of course. You could feel everything, every thrust, every twitch—you could feel it all.

Gradually he sped up, he started to thrust at an unforgiving pace, his moans breathless and mixing with your downright pornographic voice, he never felt so much pleasure in his life—all that buildup truly meant something now that he can unload everything he had into you, yes, yes hed give you his all. He would fill you to the brim and get you nice and pregnant with his kin—with his pups. You could do that right?

“you-you will mother..mother my kin—wont you master?” He purred, his tongue lapping at your neck as he started to fuck you like an animal- like the beast he truly was. You could barely speak back, your brain was practically mush at this point. You could only cling to the little you could as your poor cunt got abused by his unforgiving pace. His knot began to swell against the base of his cock, you could feel it prodding at your entrance— no, you couldn’t take this! Not when you could barely take his cock. That didn’t matter to Lycaon though, you would take it whether you liked it or not. His hands came to your thighs yet again but this time to force them beside your head, your teary eyed fucked out face only urged him on.

“yes—yes! take my knot.. my beloved-! my master—please, please let me in..” He’d growl before biting down on your neck , you scream as you feel that familiar burst of energy shock through you- the slick from your cum and arousal created the perfect substance for his knot to slide inside of you..filing you to the brim with his cum. He licked at your neck as his tail wagged behind him furiously.. he finally found someone suitable for his kin.. for his love..for his desires to be fulfilled.

He couldn’t let you go now, not even long after he calmed down. In reality, he was terrified on seeing you now that he was in the right state of mind..what an idiot he was. “Master—I deeply apologize for my behavior. This is why I notified everyone about the full moon” His voice made you chuckle, of course.. the damn moon. “Master-?” He called again, afraid he may have broken you. You surely were “broken” at least that’s how your body felt.

“Lycaon”

“Yes Master-?”

“Carry me to bed”

“Of course..I am at your service”

#zzz #zzzero #zzz lycaon #von lycaon #zenless zone zero lycaon #lycaon x reader #lycaon smut #von lycaon x reader #hoyoverse #genshin impact #honkai star rail #smut writer #zenless zone zero #von lycaon smut #zzz x reader #zzz smut #zenless zone zero x reader #𖦹⠀⠀ ˖ haywires ! ~

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pascalpvnk · 1 year ago

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take it from me

pairing: bilingual!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: joel is a simple man who simply finds pleasure in pleasing you.

warnings: moodboard used for aesthetic purposes - does not represent the reader description, 18+ MDNI, no timeline, no specified ages, no mention of sarah or ellie, LATINO JOEL (most translations within the text except for some reused pet names/common phrases). This is porn with minimal plot (but unrelated plot I canon—his favorite artist is Linda Ronstadt and I stand by it.), Joel maneuvers reader, manhandling essentially, no other descriptions of reader other than nipple piercings, body worship(?), Joel’s filthy fucking mouth, mention of thigh riding, oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, mentions of intense emotions, aftercare.

word count: 3.3k

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

a/n: fun fact, I’m a virgin, so if it seems far fetched it’s probably because it is. anyways, a special shoutout to ramon nomar for being the muse for this piece, another to @mrsswilliams for beta-ing and fueling my horny antics, thank you to my spanish teachers for guiding me to this moment (probably not your intention but I digress), and to you for taking the time to be here and hopefully enjoying! happy reading xx (banners & dividers by @saradika-graphics)

Addicting is the only word Joel Miller can muster up to describe you as his mind clouds with lust each night he’s alone, bucking into his own fist and spilling his sins after he’d met you. Of course you’re beautiful and charming above all things, but he can’t help the way his cock stirs after simply a phone call from you describing your day. How you miss him and want to meet up again soon.

Joel isn’t the brightest man, which he is very self aware of. But what he craves to learn about you, what your favorite flower is, favorite ice cream, your desires, outranks any level of intelligence a man could hold. He wants to please you, not for a superficial reason to use against you down the line. He enjoys your smile and the way your eyes crinkle, your dimple making an appearance on occasion, and it makes him feel good. The little things shine a light in his chest, ever the people pleaser.

However, he finds a red, hot desire to rouse you, make you squirm under his tender touch. To watch every fiber of control and tension dissipate from your being.

But he’s cautious.

He’s treading on thin ice within himself. He wants to give and give and give, but he’d never forgive himself if he overwhelmed and alarmed you. Your wit keeps him on his toes, tempting and trying his willpower to take things at a palatable pace.

But he’s just a man at his simplest form, a glutton for pleasure wanting to carve himself a home within you and give everything he has to please you.

You found yourself perched upon his lap, a forgotten movie droning in the background as hands and lips explore new territory. Joel firmly guided your hips, firstly against his own, then he aided you across his denim clad thigh after you wriggled your pants to the floor.

Choruses of Spanish praises, filth, ‘mamita, use me’, and phrases alike rolled off his tongue effortlessly as he found pleasure within your own. Consuming every moan, gasp, and ‘don’t stop’ you were so eager to give.

He struggled to deny your beautiful pleas to get him off as he had for you. You knew he wanted you to, there was no doubt in your mind considering the prominent bulge straining and begging you to. He reassured you, or rather made excuses for himself to ease the guilt he felt at your subtle disappointment.

I’m not coming in my jeans in front of the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.

You said you had work in the morning, anyhow. We outta get’cha home, preciosa.

Joel kissed you softly as he pulled up your pants, grabbed his keys, opened his truck door for you, waited at red lights, and finally as he dropped you off at your apartment building, sealing the night with melted wax, branding himself on your heart until you meet next.

Made it home okay, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.

And he does.

His head is already spinning at the thought of going out with you again. He’s showered, trimmed, even ironed his flannel before making sure it’s buttoned and tucked properly. Well rested is not one of the qualities he’s adorning—no thanks to you running his imagination rampant—but the adrenaline he feels, and the coffee he drank at noon, make up for his lack of preparedness.

At the end of the day, those things don’t even matter. Joel Miller makes it as far as his front door when you ring, bringing you inside with the intention of grabbing his own keys. His hands find you instead, your face in a gentle caress as he compliments your attire, your appearance as a whole, and your waist as he kisses you with increasing fervor. You don’t stop him, and he doesn’t stop himself.

“Ay dios. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you all day,” he mumbles against your neck, walking you backwards to his bedroom. His shirt wrinkles under your tight grip, suffocating him until you pop each button open one by one. You leave him in his black undershirt, half untucked in his dark washed jeans.

The back of your knees find his mattress before you even realize, forcing you to sit parallel with his waist. He takes his time, always calculated with his hands on every sweet spot he can reach. Joel cups your jaw, admiring your blown out pupils and the raw lust overtaking your features.

“Wanna take good care of ya, now,” he soothes. “Just say the word and I’ll stop, you know I’ll stop for ya, promise.”

It’s half of a promise to you, half of him asking you to promise to tell him if it becomes too much. You nod, reaching for him once again.

“No, chiquita,” he holds your hand to his chest. “¿Me prometes? You promise me?”

“I promise,” you say clearly and wholeheartedly. “On my life.”

With your renewed consent, he folds himself over to kiss you deeply. His tongue dances with yours, similarly to a few nights prior but with increased desperation. Fingertips graze up your sides, nerves twitching under his subtle touch, only unlatching your lips to lift your top over your head. His eyes fixate on the pebbled flesh and metal protruding your bra, making quick work of the clasp before removing it.

“I knew you had something hiding underneath this,” he muses, toying with the fabric of your bra between his first two fingers. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier, hm?”

Joel skims his thumbs on the underside of both of your breasts, attaching his mouth to your collarbone. He suckles your delicate skin, committing the taste of your sweet musk and desire to his memory. He softly licks over one of your nipples, taking in how your head tips back with a sigh. He brings it into his mouth, nipping and assuaging the pierced bud until you manage to free his shirt out of his waistline.

“Paciencia, amor. Patience, sweetheart, please,” he pacifies as he guides your hand out of reach from his belt. “Just wanna savor you. Can I?”

You nod and opt to tangle your fingers in his curls. Approval seeps through his smirk as he continues his ministrations for as long as he pleases, feeling accomplished each time your hips chase his.

Joel stands up straight, running his calloused hands over one of your clothed legs, meticulously pulling each shoe and sock off and tossing them to the side to find later.

“Do I need a condom, baby?” He mutters against your knee, toying with the hemline of your pants.

You tell him no and quickly explain you’re clean and protected. Something in him visibly switches, desire becoming carnal. He clings tight to his sense of control, desperately willing himself to give himself to you, not give into himself.

Joel drags both layers of bottoms down your legs, watching you challenge him by keeping them clamped together. He exhales heavily through his nose, your limbs relaxing slightly, but just enough for him to retake control.

“Christ, looks like I was wrong again,” he sighs, smoothing his flattened palms over your open thighs. You can get prettier. “Oh she’s pretty, mamita. All this for me?”

A gasp falls between your lips as you’re tugged closer to the edge of the mattress. Your head spins, the only thought crossing it is Joel. His hands. His words. His filthy mouth and how it’s mere centimeters from where you want him to be. Need him to be.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling the scratch of his blunt facial hair on your inner thighs. His lips tease the sensitive skin around your pussy.

“What?” He coos, fingernails biting your flesh. “Dime, baby. Tell me what you want.”

It feels pathetic, you’re completely at his mercy, stripped down on his bed while he remains fully clothed over you. He has you in the palm of his hand, putty waiting to be molded and shaped however he pleases. Bliss has already warped your features, the anticipation of what’s to come already numbing your brain.

“I want you,” you cry simply.

“You have me, don’t ya? I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

Frustration bubbles in your belly. You’re truly not annoyed, but the tension might snap you in half before he gets the chance to.

“Want you to touch me,” you plead. “Want you to make me come, please.”

Joel hums with content, thumbs pulling your cunt open from the outer lips. A slick, sticky mess you are, hardly touched and begging to come. Arousal seeps from you, finding its way to your tight hole. You watch Joel wet his lips, the self restraint slowly dwindling from his gaze.

“Show me,” he huffs. “Be good and fuck your hand f’me. Wanna see how you like it.”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clanking against itself is enough for your hand to fly below your hips. Relief floods your nervous system the moment you circle your clit, hips lifting and chasing the friction. Sighs leave your parted lips, eyelids falling shut with pleasure.

“Ah ah,” he corrects. “Eyes on me, beba. Sigue jugando con esa flor bonita. Mírame.” Keep playing with that pretty flower. Look at me.

You comply with his request, half lidded but maintaining eye contact nonetheless. Your fingers toy with your cunt lazily, eyes settling between his burning gaze and his taut boxers. His length strains beneath the thin fabric and his hand twitches at his side.

“I love watching you, mami,” Joel purrs. “Wish y’could see how perfect you look right now…perfectly wrecked just for me.”

His words egg you on, pace quickening on your throbbing clit. Moans spill from you as you watch Joel squeeze at his seemingly uncomfortable erection for his own relief. His other palm keeps your legs spread for him, kneading desperately at your thighs as you work yourself towards the edge.

“¿Quieres que te ayude, mamita?” Do you want me to help you?

Joel settles on his knees, both palms splayed against your skin to keep you pinned down. He licks a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit, sucking harshly on your labia before diving into your weeping cunt, all while audibly sighing with delight at your taste. Your hand instinctively rushes to grip his curls.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he grumbles while putting your hand back where he says it belongs. “Keep playing with yourself. Make this pretty pussy cry all over my face, cosa dulce.” Sweet thing.

Your digits pulse against the nerve bundle, shocked by the sensation of his tongue swirling inside of you. It’s absolutely obscene. He slurps up everything you have to give, edging you until your legs clamp over his ears. Joel sings into your cunt, a delicious melody that sends you into a frenzy. Your walls flutter around him as he guides you through your orgasm, nose nudging your hand out of the way to make more room for himself.

Your gaze drops from the ceiling to his blissful face, thick eyelashes brushing his flushed cheeks as he savors you. It all begins to feel like too much as you grip onto his shirt. You pull the cloth towards you and he gets the hint, dragging his mouth away from your pussy and removing his top.

“So desperate to come, mamita, already finished with me?” He cants, smoothing a thumb over your kneecap.

“No- just need a breath,” you pant. You take in his features, broad shoulders with a strong chest, thick arms. His hair alone has you running laps, the sparseness of it littered on his torso and below his belly button, his curls tousled already from your hands, and his beard—fuck his beard—is absolutely soaked with your arousal. He makes no attempt to wipe it clean before kissing you. The taste of your cunt dances on your tongue as he licks into your mouth.

“Joel,” you sigh, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your neck. “I wanna suck your cock, please.”

“You wanna suck it?” He smirks, slipping his hand beneath his boxers before shoving them off of his thighs. His fingers slip through your folds briefly before he deposits your cum onto the tip of his dick. Mischief plays on his expression as he opens your legs once more.

Joel slowly stuffs his cock into you, not your mouth but your pussy. A gasp escapes you, morphing itself into a moan. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him in deeper.

“Thought you wanted to suck it,” he grunts with a devilish grin, grinding his hips down into yours.

“Hmm, I’ll suck it later,” you draw out with a smile.

He leans down to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, gently nibbling on the sensitive skin before pulling off.

“God, mamita,” he exhales. “Love fucking this pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

His hips drive into yours at a devastating pace, only using a portion of his length to massage your pussy. You quickly adjust to him, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. You cry his name while simultaneously having all of the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Joel swallows your wails whole, moaning against your lips in return.

Your legs tense around his body, face twisting up with pleasure under the weight of his. Lips drag against your skin, anywhere he can reach. The room spins around you, eyes rolling back into your head as his hand snakes down to play with your clit. You desperately claw at Joel, gripping his curls in one hand and bruising his back with the other.

“Dámelo. Give it to me like I want, sugar,” Joel coaxes.

The bundles of twine prickling your flesh and holding you together in one piece snap, your body completely shattering into a million fragments underneath him. He stays buried inside you as you pulse around his cock, humming into your neck and soothing his hands over your burning skin.

Joel gently settles onto his side near you, cupping your jaw and kissing you feverishly. You shift your body to face away from him, pushing back against his soaked erection. His eyebrows furrow, grunts of detest coming from him.

“No, mami, I want to look at you while I fuck you. Ven aquí, come here,” he corrects, grasping your arm to guide you to press up chest to chest with him. A brief hiss escapes him as the cool jewelry brushes up against his nipples.

“These’ll be the death of me,” he sighs, latching his mouth to yours once more as he maneuvers you the way he wants.

His cock slips easily back into your wet heat, arms trapping your upper half against his as his legs anchor to the bed to buck into you. He grips onto your ass for leverage and you find yourself holding onto it with your own palm. It’s slower, intimate, reeling you in to take more, to take it all.

He draws another orgasm from you. Your heart thrums against his hardened chest, his pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He collapses on his back with a breathy groan, sweat perspiring on his forehead. You push back his sticky curls as he catches his breath this time.

“You still wanna suck it?” He chuckles cheekily, offering but not forcing.

He’s surprised as you eagerly crawl down his body, curling over his thigh while taking his cock in your fist. Your back is to him once more, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially while he’s stuffed in your mouth so perfectly. His fingers drag along your spine, palm splaying flat to soothe the sensation quickly after. His hand stills and stomach flexes as you take as much of him as you can, pumping your tight fist over the remainder of his length.

“Fuck me,” he shutters mindlessly, “feels so good, amor. Treating me so good.”

The praises fuel you, moaning around his tip as he continues to trace shapeless trails onto your back. Your mind feels cloudy, not thunderstorms and impending doom cloudy, but rather a sunny, breezy, nothing could ever go wrong kind of cloudy. You feel taken care of for once, free to slip into a warm, blissful state with Joel. He feels safe.

“Come back, preciosa,” he grins as you make your way back up his body. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you deeply once more, running his hands gently all over your skin as you settle on top of him.

“Missed ya,” he chuckles, kissing your swollen pout a few more times before wetting his fingertips with his spit. He reaches down, circling your clit as his cock twitches against your seam. Your head falls beside his, feeling too heavy to hold up on your own.

Joel protrudes your cunt once more, nestling into you carefully at first. You writhe over him at the push and pull of his cock inside your fluttering walls, hips snapping down against his with subtle slaps of skin rejoicing. He picks up his pace beneath you, overwhelming your senses a bit too quickly.

You work your core to sit up, fully sheathed with his length as you grind against him. He grips onto your hips, watching you use him for your own pleasure.

“Tan bonita, amor,” he hums smugly, his fingertips dancing along your bare thigh, his other hand tucked behind his head to prop himself up. “So pretty, mami, fuck.”

He tweaks his fingers against your nipples, pinching the pebbled flesh carefully as you ride his lap. Tufts of his neat pubic hair scratch at your clit, the friction of everything causing you to soak his lap further. You’re being pushed to your limits, throat dry and voice hoarse. Joel wishes to have put water on his bedside table, he would’ve had he’d known you’d end up here so quickly.

“Doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He checks in, toying with your fingers that have found a home on his chest. You silently nod, eyelids low and face contoured with bliss.

“Think you can give me one more, bebita? Come on my cock one more time and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Your voice hardly sounds like your own, but you mean it when you tell him yes, please. He feels it when you clamp down on his length, his thighs tensing so tight they almost cramp. His legs hinge at the knee, body pivoting you forward into his chest. Joel grabs fistfuls of your ass as he fucks up into you, all of the air leaving your lungs.

His grunts and groans become less calculated and intentional, thrusts becoming sloppier and instinctual. You squeeze him tight, toes curling as you already tumble towards your impending high.

“Mierda,” he hisses, strong arms pressing your torso firmly to his. His lips consume your every breath, whine and borderline scream.

“Take it, use me, amor. Dámelo, cariño, and I’ll give you my cum. Take it from me,” he grunts sharply, pressing into you impossibly deeper and faster. Your skin bursts into flames, embers showering your body as he pulls that final high from you. You shutter above him, dead weight against his body as he uses you to finish himself off. He evacuates your warmth and pumps out his load between your sticky, worn out figures with a drawn out groan.

Joel makes the first move to stand up, cock softening and hanging between his legs. He starts to step towards his en suite bathroom to find a towel, but you reach for him.

“I’m just gettin’ somethin’ to clean you up, honey,” he smiles before seeing a sadness in your eyes, longing for him to come back. Tears prickle your eyes and Joel quickly makes his way back to the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay, baby, cálmate,” he hushes carefully, holding you close to him. “We’ll getcha cleaned up in a little bit, I’ll make you whatever you fancy for supper and relax with you, sound good?”

A nod suffices his question, knowing you trust him enough to stay rather than run off eases him as he grounds you back to reality with his warm embrace.

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#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: take it from me

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

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Love Always, Your Best 🥀 (Eren x Black!F!Reader 18+ V-Day One Shot)

“Five years later, and I’m still your best, baby. Let me remind you why.

Pairing: Toxic Ex!Eren Jaeger x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which the person you loath most in this world and the best lover you’ve ever had, your very toxic ex-boyfriend Eren, suddenly shows up out of the blue one random night at the same restaurant you happen to be at with your new man on Valentine’s Day. He is newly single and on his bullshit. Unfortunately for you, that means he’ll stop at nothing to remind you of how his bedroom skills make up for his lack of relationship skills….hopefully.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Possessive & Obsessive!Eren; Sexual Tension; Alcohol & Marijuana Use; Drunk/High Sex; Dubcon/R*pe; Coercion; Cheating; MDom!Eren x fsub!Reader; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Messy Pussy-Eating; Doggystyle; Mating Press; Eren Got A Big Ol' Dick; Tattoos & Piercings Kink; (a little) Plug!Eren; Dirty Talk; Reader Cums 3x; Daddy Kink; Cum-Drunk!Reader; Eren Dickmatizes You; Dumbification; Cumshot; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: MY FIRST EREN FIC!!! EVERYBODY GET UP & CLAP!!! This is some very nasty, manipulative, lowdown, dirty, toxic sh!t as a warning. Something about Eren being a total dick is kinda hot to me lol. Enjoy!! 😘😘 -Jazz

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‘Oh, no,’ you think. The only thought you’ve had since you laid eyes on him seconds before.

Out of all of the places you would think of running into him, you never thought it would be here on this day of all days.

Your ex. Sitting at the bar. And not just any ex: your very toxic ex whom you broke up with five years ago because of his said ‘toxicity’. He is also the man you used to be head over heels for. Like completely head-in-the-clouds, singing-in-the-mirror in love with this man who happens to be the most obsessive, jealous, and emotionally unavailable man you have ever met.

And unfortunately for you, also the man who gave you the best dick you have ever had in your life.

As soon as you see him sitting at the bar nursing a Gin & Tonic, his veiny hand adorned with rings and ink that he always thought looked so much better wrapped around your neck, it is like being smacked dead in the face. Every one of the features that you adored–his shoulder-length black hair; his angular side profile; the piercings glittering in his ears, pink bottom lip, and right eyebrow–is like being shell-shocked over and over again.

“Oh, my God,” you blurt. You cannot stop yourself from saying it as you sit four tables away from him in the expensive restaurant you both occupy. The decor is adorned with red, pink, and white flowers, fine white tablecloths, and hanging lamps that glow a dim, romantic red for Valentine’s Day. You wore your favorite slim, sexy red dress for the occasion, but right now, you feel anything but sexy.

Your date and long-term boyfriend looks up from his menu, his forest-green eyes etched in concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

He, too, wore his Valentine’s Day best–a red sweater paired with an Armani blazer, designer slacks, and red bottom shoes. His hair, black and curly, is slicked back to show off his handsome features fit for a model…or a male nurse. Kaido is well-wanted at his job by almost every woman working in his hospital due to his dashing good looks and body worthy of drooling over, but as far as you’re concerned, he is tied down to you.

“O-Oh, nothing!” you immediately squeak, nervously laughing it off. Quickly, you come up with a lie to avoid explaining to Kaido about your ex whom you never told him about. “Sorry, I just saw a coworker and I can’t believe he’s here. He’s always an asshole to me.” You giggle again, hoping that this will help make things light, easy, and not at all awkward even though your body feels like it’s in fight or flight mode.

But it has the opposite effect. Immediately, Kaido begins looking around for him. “Really? Where is he? Maybe he needs to meet me.” You resist the urge to lurch across the table and cover his eyes. “No, no, Kaido, don’t! He’s an asshole to everyone.”

Kaido tuts, angrily taking a sip of the complimentary champagne you were given prior to sitting down before getting up, causing his chair to skid across the floor. The old couple sitting behind him stares at him in irritation. “Well, nobody treats my girl like that. You both work together, so—“

“Kaido, please stop,” you quietly huff, flushing with embarrassment. “You always do this.” Your boyfriend stares at you, alarmed. “Always do what?”

“Try to prove yourself to me,” you answer, irritation evident in your tone. “You don’t have to go out of your way to do that all the time.” You know it isn’t fair to get upset with him. It isn’t his fault that your ex-boyfriend has left you so shaken.

Kaido, still standing, scowls at you, offended. “So you’re mad because I want to defend you and be a good boyfriend to you?”

“No, that’s not…” Your words die in your throat, your heart pounding furiously in your chest. Now you feel horrible though there aren’t lies in your statement. Since you’ve been dating for over two years, Kaido has always gone out of his way to prove to you and himself that he is a great partner, somehow upping the last thing every single time.

Expensive gifts that you feel obligated to take. Romantic dates that you feel guilty for him taking you on. Constant phone calls and text messages that you often find yourself getting tired of receiving. You feel horrible for all of it because Kaido is such a sweet man. You couldn’t ask for anything more…could you?

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, moving your hand across the table to grab his. “I don’t wanna fight. I just don’t want to ruin tonight with bullshit like….him.” Your eyes flit across the room at Eren who licks the contents of his drink off of his upper lip, his tongue ring glinting in the dim, red light. The venom in your tone is evident.

Kaido’s eyes soften and he interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry too. I just love you, Y/N, y’know?” He gives you a smile that is so adoring that it pains you. “I really do.”

You feel that familiar lump at the mention of the L-word fill your throat, making it hard to even smile. “I—“

“And here are your drinks!” The waitress has returned with your drinks, acting as an angel who has come to save you in your hour of need. “A Moscow Mule and a glass of our finest wine.” She lowers your Moscato down in front of you, crisp and ready to be consumed. “Are you ready to order?” she asks, taking her notepad out.

“Yes!” you immediately chirp, digging into your menu for appetizers and a main course. It is the perfect distraction from having to lie to Kaido and say “I love you”.

Though you and Kaido have been together for two years, first meeting when you came in for nausea pills after a stomach flu, you haven’t said the L-word to him yet. He said it last year after he took you to your city’s annual Christmas lights festival and confessed under the most beautiful blue and white lights you’ve seen in your life. It was magical. It was romantic. It was the absolute wrong time.

“You don’t have to say it back yet,” he said, noticing your saddened and guilty expression. “Just tell me when you’re ready.” But you haven’t been ready for over two years now. And you’re not sure if you ever will. You care so deeply for Kaido, but you don’t think you’re in love with him. You can’t see him in your life forever the way you should.

Not like a certain someone. After you order your food, Kaido is busy putting in his order when you take a sip of your Moscato. You already had a glass of champagne, so maybe more alcohol isn’t a good idea because your eyes begin trailing. And they trail right over to Eren.

He looks so different yet the same. It is an odd mixture, but regardless, he still gives you the same butterflies that feel so new to you. You don’t think you even got butterflies when you first started dating Kaido. They are the same stupid, annoying, fluttery tingles that you got when you met Eren for the first time.

And then he turns and looks at you. Those intoxicating, enchanting, sinful teal eyes lock onto yours from across the restaurant. And instantly, you are taken back to five years ago when it was just him and you, and nothing else.

You were young and naive as one is during their first year of college. You were overworked and underpaid at your little part-time job to pay for school, so your friend introduced you to her plug. She walked you to Eren’s dorm where he answered his door in nothing but gray sweats with Paramore blasting in the background. He had less tattoos then, but was still everything your parents didn’t like: cool, aloof, didn’t give a single fuck, and sold weed to put himself through college and fund his tattoo business.

“Hey, Eren!” your friend greeted. “This is my friend, Y/N. She’s looking to buy a dime bag.” Her plug took one lazy look at you, his eyes rolling up your body, and you felt supremely exposed in your thin cardigan and hip-hugging jeans. As if noticing he got you, he smiled his award-winning Eren smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice silky. “Lemme get you two a drink.”

After that day, he was in your phone as your personal weed plug. The more you started visiting his dorm and the more he showed up at yours delivering personal baggies of weed, the more you got to know each other. It didn’t take long for the attraction to bloom and soon, you were falling hard for the boy.

He was your first love. The one you wanted to be with forever. You felt so safe in his arms, snuggled up in his dorm during free periods, catching the smoke rings he would make with his mouth between your lips. He gave you your first tattoo–a tiny heart between your breasts. “So I’m there forever,” he whispered, kissing you gently as he laid numbing cream on the fresh tattoo.

Eren was always has good of a dick plug as he was a weed plug and tattoo artist. He gave you the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. There were plenty times you skipped classes to get put into his mattress instead, filling his walls with the sound of your moans and the headboard knocking against the wall. When you broke up, your nights were filled with endless fantasies of his long, fat dick in your mouth and filling up your aching pussy, making you delirious enough to want to call him.

But Eren was also very toxic, jealous, and possessive. All to the point where it drove you crazy. He hated when you wore revealing clothes. He shot shady glances at men that even looked your way. He couldn’t stand any of your male friends and made it clear that you were his by leaving love bites on your neck. He would show up to your job or while you were out with friends, completely unannounced and uninvited.

You often got into fights over this which ended up hot, mindblowing sex that often fizzled out all of your anger…until one night a month before you graduated uni. After dating on and off for four years throughout school, you and Eren came to a standstill as graduation approached and you snagged your dream position in a city two hours away from home.

That was the night you broke up with Eren after a dick appointment. You didn’t tell him the news until after you got your nut. In retrospect, that probably wasn’t a good idea because of course, Eren was pissed. “You didn’t think to tell me this before the sex?” he scoffed, sitting on the edge of your bed in his boxers.

“I didn’t know how, Eren,” you argued, sitting naked under your sheets. “As soon as you got here, you had your dick out!” That’s when the argument started, heated and loud, and that’s when you realized that you had to end your chapter with him right there.

That made Eren even angrier. “You’re actin’ like I can’t come over there to visit you,” he snapped as you hastily got dressed. “Or I can just move there! Do you not want me there?” He gave you that hurt look that often got you feeling guilty, but you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Don’t do that, Eren, please,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I just don’t want for you to have to give up your life here just for something that may not work.”

Realizing your mistake, your stomach lurched. But it was too late: Eren was wounded. “Why wouldn’t it?” he asked, his voice small and distant. You hurt him. You stood there, feeling like you were holding the gun and he was the target. “Because….because….”

Because you’re toxic. Possessive. Jealous. Dangerous for me because of that dick.

“Because I want a fresh start,” you lied. “And I can’t do that if I’m tied to you.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened, the anger radiating off of him in waves. “Tied to me?” he parroted, scoffing with a dry laugh. “So what? I’m like some kind of dead weight you need to get rid of?” You looked away, unable to see the hurt in his eyes. “Fine then,” he deadpaned, “but you know you won’t forget me. And I won’t forget you either, Y/N.”

And you never did. When he left that night, he took all of the joy and love with him. Even though he called and texted you for days after, you never answered, instead drowning yourself in finals and arrangements to move. After some time, the contact stopped and you went your separate ways. You never heard from or saw Eren again…until now. Now that you’ve moved back home and met a new man, here he is again.

“Let’s exchange gifts!” Kaido suddenly exclaims. You blink, pulled out of your memories, and look down to see a white box in front of you. Quickly, you fish his gift out of your bag and pass it to him with the brightest smile you can muster. “You can open yours first.”

Kaido grins and opens the tiny red gift bag, fishing the digital Amazon watch out of it. “It’s not quite an Apple Watch, but it’s close! You can download apps on it and it checks your blood pressure.” You wanted to buy the most pricey gift you could afford, hoping to accommodate for all of the expensive gifts he has given you.

Kaido cocks his head to the side like you’re a cute little puppy. “You’re too cute,” he tuts. “Now open mine!” You take a sip of wine before doing so and your smile drops at the sight of the 24k gold chain sitting inside the box. “Kaido,” you gasp. “Is it–”

“Real?” he chuckles, smiling proudly at you. “Yes, baby, it is. Let me put it on you.” He moves from his seat and comes behind you, gingerly taking the chain from the box to fasten it around your neck. As he does, Eren turns in his stool and watches, sipping on his Gin & Tonic. His face is unreadable and that angers you. Why is he even looking? Why is he even here?

And why the hell do you care?

Kaido’s hands brush your neck as he finishes and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gorgeous,” he whispers. “Just like I knew it’d be. Now, everyone knows that you’re mine.” Eren sips his drink again and the corner of his lips lift in a crooked smile. The same smirk that melted you.

Suddenly, you are overwhelmed. The restaurant has become too hot and too small. You feel like a giant Alice in a too-small room after eating the wrong cookie. Once Kaido sits down, you stand up like your ass is on fire. “U-Um…I’m gonna go pee real quick,” you say. “This wine is goin’ right through me.” You give Kaido a quick reassuring kiss on the lips before you make a beeline to the bathroom…but you don’t go in.

Instead, you find the nearest exit and go out for some much-needed fresh air. The air is bitter cold, tinged with winter, but you let it cool your clammy skin in your red cocktail dress. Standing on the restaurant’s patio, you breathe in and out slowly, calming yourself. In and out…in and out…in–

“Cold out here,” a familiar voice comments. “Where’s your coat?” The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Of course, Eren follows you the very moment you’re alone. Of course, you’re the only two out here.

You shouldn’t turn around, but you do. Like some kind of dark angel, he stands in the silvery glow of the moonlight, the light washing over his porcelain skin, black sweater, and jeans.

His name is inked on your tongue just like the tattoo he gave you, still implanted between your cleave: “Eren.” You don’t say it happily or with venom. You just say it.

But it’s enough to get Eren to smile. “Hey, you,” he greets you. “It’s been a long time.” You hate that he speaks to you as if you’re old friends. You’re not. “Why are you out here?” you scoff. Eren’s handsome face turns cold. “So that’s how you’re gonna talk to me after five years and actin’ like you ain’t know me in there?”

Here we fucking go. “You shouldn’t have followed me out here,” you say, your tone firm.

He shrugs, placing one inked hand in his pocket. “Just wanted to see if you were okay. You looked…startled, ‘specially when dude gave you that pretty chain.” He digs a Marbolo box out of his pocket. He still smokes after all of this time. When he lights that damn thing and his pink lips form an O around a smoke ring, you realize that you still find it attractive after all of this time as well.

The air is silent yet tense between you with unsaid words. “So you’re back in the city,” he states, his eyes gleaming at you. “When’d you come back? I thought you left for that big girl job.”

“I did, but it didn’t work out, so I came home last year.” You notice that his jaw is tight. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” you accusingly ask, squinting at him.

Eren scoffs as if the idea is preposterous. “Why would I be? We haven’t talked in, like, five years. Things changed…clearly.” He takes another drag of his smoke, blowing a steady stream out into the cold air.

“What does that mean?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from becoming agitated. What the hell is he getting at here? He passively shrugs like it should be obvious. “I just meant you’ve got a new man. He seems nice.” You sense bitterness, but you don’t comment on it. You don’t feel like turning this into something heated.

“So what of you?” you question, leaning against the wooden bar of the patio. “You still at the tattoo shop? Are you seein’ anyone new now?”

Eren smirks at you, quirking his pierced brow. “Well, aren’t you interested?” he chuckles. Still a teasing shit. You turn to leave, but he stops you with a hand on your elbow. “Hey, hey, I’m just kidding! I own the shop now and no, nobody new. I was seein’ someone for about two years, but it didn’t work out.”

You stare at him closely, trying to decode if he’s telling the truth or not…but then again, Eren was never a liar. A toxic asshole, yes, but never a liar. “So what happened?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest to hide yourself (and your hard nipples from the frigid air). “Did you do something? Did she?”

Eren shakes his head like you got it wrong and flicks his cig down on the ground. “Nah, it was a joint decision.” Knowing you need more meat than that, he sighs and snubs his cigarette out under his foot. “She thought I wasn’t the relationship type,” he explains with a dry smile on his face.

‘You weren’t,’ you think. ‘You still aren’t. That was why we broke up.’ You wonder briefly if he was as toxic with the mystery ex as he was with you. You wonder if he was as possessive and damn near yandere with her as he was with you the entirety of your relationship.

Eren gives you a strange look, his teal eyes turning into slits as he squints at you. You lean back a bit, alarmed and confused by his sudden interest in your face. “I’m detecting somethin’,” he points out. “You wanna talk about this?” He doesn’t elaborate on what he means by ‘this’, but he doesn’t have to. The last thing you want to talk about is anything about your or his new relationships. “Not really,” you huff. “Sorry, but I need to go.”

You know the more you are out here with him, the worse this situation will get. But as you go to pass him to enter the restaurant again, Eren gently grabs your hand. You whip around, trying to tug yourself away. “What are you doing?” you demand. “Eren, don’t.”

But he doesn’t let go and his firm yet burning expression tells you that he isn’t letting anything go. “You don’t really love that guy,” he says, accusingly so. “I can tell. The minute he put that necklace on you, you looked like you wanted to hide under the table and never come back out.”

You glare daggers at him, angered. “How dare you?” you hiss, ripping your hand from his. “You don’t know me anymore, Eren, and you clearly didn’t know me back then! I was looking for real, genuine love, but you clearly couldn’t give me that ‘cause of your shit. You’ve got issues.”

Eren’s eyes flash with something that you can’t decipher, but you know it ain’t nice. “And you don’t?” he scoffs. “You’re sittin’ there pretendin’ to play ‘love-struck girlfriend’ with a dude you ain’t even in love with. I could see it a mile away.” He moves closer to you until he is practically looming over you, making your heart jump. “You forget I know you, Y/N: I know your body too well.”

He gently traces a finger down your arm, sending goose pimples all over you. “Get off,” you whisper-hiss. You shove him by his chest and he lets you, stepping away to allow you space. “I’m not doing this with you. Ever.” Quickly, you yank open the door and head back into the restaurant, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You know he is still staring at you as you retreat, but you don’t dare look back.

Even when you sit back down with Kaido, your body won’t relax and you still feel on edge. You barely even notice that your food is here. Kaido looks up from his sea bass, worried. “Hey, that was a long trip,” he comments. “You alright?” You grip your wine and take a much-needed sip to calm your nerves. “Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “I just–”

And then suddenly, your ex is there again. You see his tatted hand by your shoulder, holding the arm of your chair, and you nearly jump out of your skin. His arrival is like a damn jumpscare in a horror movie, smile and all. “Don’t mean to interrupt the V-Day date here,” he chuckles, standing among you and Kaido. “Just wanted to say it’s nice to see you again, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re happy.”

His smile is supposed to be kind and warm, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know: he still isn’t over you and he intends to make himself known to your new man. You sit as rigid as a board, unable to breathe properly. Kaido confusedly looks between you and Eren. “Who’s this, babe?” he asks, all innocent and cluseless. But you can’t say it. You can’t even breathe. “I’m Eren,” your ex replies, holding a hand out to Kaido. “An old friend of hers.” The two men firmly shake. “We go waaay back, don’t we, Y/N?”

Eren turns to you, his smile turning into a crooked, teasing smirk that makes you want to toss your Moscato in his face. “Uh…yeah,” you squeak. “It was nice to see you again.” You offer him a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He slowly moves towards you and bends down, making your blood pressure shoot through the roof.

“You too,” he whispers and his lips ghost your cheek in a slight kiss. His hand rests somewhere at his side, undetectable. Though you try to fight it, his lips and the closeness of his body brings your entire body to life and you suddenly feel things that Kaido–your Kaido–has never made you feel before.

Eren then straightens and gives a respectful nod to Kaido. “Enjoy your dinner.” And like a thief in the night, he is gone, walking towards the bar to grab his leather jacket and leaving the restaurant. You watch him, your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame, as your body burns…and your pussy aches. “Well, he had some cool ink,” Kaido laughs. “Those gages were gruesome though.”

He goes back to eating his dinner like everything is normal while his girlfriend is sitting across from him, aroused for another man. Roughly swallowing more wine, you take your napkin from the table and unfold it to lay in your lap. As you do, a folded piece of paper tumbles out of your napkin and into your lap.

You already know how it got there. With shaky hands, you unfold it and read the note written there for you, including a phone number:

If you decide you want a real romantic night, call me. I know you deleted my number. – Love Always, Your Best

You nearly throw up the rest of your dinner as you stare at Eren’s handwriting. You barely can swallow your food despite the tiny pieces you cut it up in. Luckily, dinner ends abruptly because Kaido gets irritated by the drunk businessmen sitting at the bar behind him and pays the tab.

By the this time, you’ve drunk more than you chewed, so the wine and champagne are making you feel bubbly, light, and sexy. You hang onto Kaido’s shoulder as he walks you outside, your trench wrapped tightly around you. “Thank you for dinner tonight,” you purr. “I have dessert back at my place…and ice cream.”

Kaido turns to you, his eyes alight from your secret meaning. You smile and lean in for a kiss to coax him back to your apartment, but his ringtone stops you. Irritated, Kaido swears and pulls it out of his pocket, becoming more agitated at the message there. “Shit,” he huffs. “M’sorry, babe, but that’s the office. They want me to come in for a last-minute triage.”

You blink at him, confused. “But I thought you were free tonight. You took off for the day, right?” That is what he told you at the beginning of the week when he made the reservations. Kaido gives you a sheepish look and you realize he “bended” the truth. “Only for a few hours,” he sighs. “I didn’t think they’d need me.”

You can already feel disappointment twisting in your gut. “But it’s Valentine’s Day,” you argue. “Why are you going to work on a day meant for us?”

Kaido sighs, already sounding irritated with you. “Babe, I’m sorry, but don’t get so worked up. You shouldn’t feel too bad…I mean, things are still one-sided between us.”

You detect the switch-up in his tone immediately. “What does that mean?” you scoff. Kaido looks away, refusing to look at you, but that sour expression stays locked on his face. “What?” you push. “Because I haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet?” Kaido doesn’t answer nor does he look at you. Those actions are all the answers you need: he is angry you haven’t uttered those three little words yet.

Suddenly, tonight feels like shit and so do you. “Kaido, I told you before: I care about you so deeply, but it’s too early for me,” you say, exasperated. “I’ll only say it when I’m ready.”

“Then when will that be?” he demands, finally looking at you. The hurt in them is clear. “It’s been a year, Y/N! How long do you need to know that you love someone?” You are stunned into silence and suddenly, you feel like crying. How could he spur this on you now of all nights?

Kaido’s phone rings again and he sighs, running a hand through his curly hair. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to him, too afraid of breaking out into sobs or cussing him out. Instead, you stay quiet as he drives you home and it is by far the most uncomfortable moment you’ve ever experienced. You’ve never been so happy to be in your crib alone when Kaido leaves after dropping you off.

You kick off your heels, drape your coat over the couch, and slump on the couch. You feel trashy. Unsexy. Lonely. The alcohol only intensifies your shitty feelings until you want to crawl out of yourself and hide. So what do you do instead of taking your ass to bed? You dig Eren’s note out of your pocket, which you kept instead of throwing away, and get your phone…but you stop from dialing his number.

‘Don’t do it,’ a tiny voice in your head says. The voice of reason. Your thumb hovers above your phone screen as you teeter-totter between right and wrong.

In the end, you ignore the voice of reason, the loneliness and wine speaking for you, and dial his number. You put your phone on speaker, not wanting to fuck up your makeup and wait in anticipation for the ringing to stop. After the fourth one, it does. “Hello?” he asks. His silky voice fills your living space.

“It’s me,” you exhale. You can’t even speak properly. After all of these years, he has this effect on you still? “I know,” he replies and you wonder if he’s been anticipating your call. “How you doin’? You okay?” You pause for a moment, your muddled mind not processing the situation properly.

“You wanna come over?” The words fly out of you before you can stop yourself. Eren pauses for a moment and the silence is so damn loud. “Do you want me to come over, Y/N?” he asks. Once again, the very dangerous word flies out of you: “Yes.”

Eren inhales slightly as if he can’t believe you’re agreeing to this. You can’t believe it either. “Tell me the address,” he demands, his tone heady with need. You tell him and you can hear his car keys jingling. “I’ll be there in ten.” And then the call is done. You sit there, wondering what the hell just happened, and what the hell you just did.

You just invited your very toxic ex over to your place. On Valentine’s Day. The reality about how bad you fucked up hits you like a truck. You need to stop this. You need to call him back right now and–

Ding-dong! Your Ring alerts you to someone at your door and your pulse jumps. Ten minutes passed already? Slowly, you get up from the couch and walk over to the door, your feet softly padding across the hardwood. “Who is it?” you ask.

“Who do you think?” Eren replies, a smile in his voice. “I’m here to rob you.” You briefly contemplate leaving the door shut, but you open it anyway. There he stands in his clothes from tonight, holding a bottle of watermelon margarita mix. “I brought some stuff for the occasion.” He slips a Ziploc bag out of his pocket. Inside it are papers, a lighter, and a small baggie of marijuana.

You stare nervously at the smoke contents and then at him. Noticing your reluctance, Eren frowns. “I’m not gon’ do anythin’, Y/N. I’m not here for none of that…just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He patiently stands there, letting you decide for yourself whether to let him in or not. Finally, against your better judgment, you open your door wider and allow him to step inside, his cologne curling into your nostrils.

For the next thirty minutes, you and Eren drink and get high as kites. He places his shoes by the door and makes himself at home on your couch before rolling a blunt on your coffee table. You watch his expert fingers roll, twist, and pinch as you sip on a glass of the sweet, tequila-infused margarita mix, becoming drunker and drunker with every sip and suddenly wanting Eren to lick you the way he licks the blunt closed.

After that, you pass the blunt back and forth between one another, talking about the past and giggling about stupid shit. The tension in the room ebbs as the air becomes thick with the scent of pungent weed and the sound of Daniel Caesar playing from your Amazon Echo sitting in your kitchen. It is as if things never changed between you two. Things are still the same, but better because you’re both adults now.

Eren sits back into the cushions, puffing on the blunt. “So what happened?” he asks. His teal eyes are slitted and slightly red from the smoke fumes. You know you’re not that much hotter. You feel like you’re falling out of your dress. “He went to work tonight, so I got mad, so we had a public fight.” You shrug, sipping your drink while Eren pulls a disgusted face. “He went to work on Valentine’s Day? I’ve never done that to anyone before.” Smoke billows from between his pierced lips as he passes you the blunt. “How’d you even meet him?”

You roll your eyes, but tell him anyway as you take a puff of the blunt. The smoke and the alcohol have begun to make you feel looser. So loose that you could lose the dress if you wanted to. “That’s so clichè,” he laughs. “Super corny…but you always did like that cutesy shit. It’s one of the reasons why I loved you so much.”

You don’t stumble on the L-word like you would’ve if you were sober. “That was a looong time ago,” you chuckle. You go to pass the blunt to him but nearly spill your glass on yourself. “Whoops, careful, baby,” he says, laying a hand on your back to help you. “You nearly spilled that on your couch.”

You make the mistake of looking at him then and suddenly, you realize just how handsome Eren is: a sharp jawline with an angular-shaped face, soft lips, and intoxicating eyes. He’s so close. His gaze falls to your lips as his Adam’s Apple bobs and it snaps you back into reality.

“No,” you gasp, pushing yourself away from him. “This was a bad idea. You should go.” you nearly stumble as you stand, but you manage to save yourself. “What?” he asks, confused. “But I just got here. I thought we were talkin’.”

“We did talk,” you snap, moving to the door. “Now you need to go before…” You stop talking before you say something that will get you in trouble. Instead, you turn the knob to your door, but Eren’s hand stops you. You gasp and turn around, realizing that he somehow transitioned from the couch to you in a few seconds. “Before what?” he pushes. “Before you do somethin’ you know you wanna do?”

He looms over you, his hand on your wrist, completely in your personal space. “Eren, don’t,” you whisper. “Please leave.” You try to twist yourself away from him, but his other hand holds your waist. “I can’t,” he murmurs. “Not until you admit that I’m what you need. You know you don’t love that guy.” Because you’re so short, he bends his knees slightly to reach you, his lips ghosting your cheek. “He can’t make you feel how I can.”

He presses a kiss there that electrifies you. Those electric kisses travel down to your neck, sensitive and personal. “Eren,” you weakly moan. “Don’t do this.” You press your hands to his chest, wanting to push him away, but your body is too weak. Too tired. “Don’t push me away, baby,” he sighs. “Don’t deny yourself.”

And then his lips, soft and slightly cold from lip piercing, are on yours. His kiss is deep. Passionate. Personal. It makes your heart explode and your mind melt into a puddle—not at all how Kaido’s kisses are. They are just as addictive as they were in the past. And so you kiss him back. Your fingers clench his shoulders as his hands caress your ass, squeezing the globes over the fabric.

“I fucking hate you,” you growl. He smirks against your lips, gently sucking on your bottom lip.

“No, you don’t,” he replies. And you don’t. You can’t. And you hate that. Despite all of his bullshit, you still love his kiss. His touch. His sex.

He pulls you close to him, making you feel the bulge pressing against his jeans. You gasp against his lips, a spark of pleasure exploding in your core. “Tell me what you want,” he demands, his lips coating your throat. His teeth graze there, leaving little lovebites that you’ll surely cuss him out for later. “Fuck me,” you beg. “And then leave.”

He pulls away, his eyes ablaze with lust, and slams his mouth against yours again. “Where the fuck is your bedroom?” he mutters against your lips.

Suddenly, your legs are wrapped around his waist and your arms are intertwined around his shoulders as he carries you to your bedroom, his footsteps quick in stride. Your tongues swirl and your lips caress one another as you kiss, indulging in each other’s taste and the moans you give and receive. Finally, Eren makes it to your bedroom and slams the door shut with the back of his foot before placing you on the edge of your bed.

Everything moves in flashes like some kind of movie with scenes missing: your dress comes off; your bra is unclasped and replaced with Eren’s hands massaging and molding your tits; his shirt comes off, exposing his muscles, pierced, tan nipples, and scatterings of tattoos adoring his porcelain skin. His eyes are ablaze with lust as he kneels before you between your thighs, his big hands massaging them. “Lemme see you,” he murmurs.

Slowly, your knees part, and your pussy is exposed to him. A slow smirk stretches across his lips as he gazes up at you. No panties. You were planning this but Kaido, but you guess your ex works too. “God, I’ve missed this,” he sighs. “Look how wet she is fa’ me.”

He takes two fingers and swirls them over your clit before moving down over your slit, gentle yet effective. You gasp at the soft contact, pleasure exploding all over your body. “Eren, c’mon,” you whine. “Please.” His gaze darkens, damn near feral, as he opens your legs wider, pinning them apart. “Don’t move,” he demands and then he’s diving down between your thighs.

One thing about Eren that you always loved is how he eats pussy. He goes crazy with your shit, alternating between long, slow licks and quick lashes against your clit that make your eyes roll back and your toes curl. His magical, wet mouth and soft lips suckle on the needy button of your clit, soaking your pussy in his saliva that he slurps back up with no problem or disgust. When his tongue finally dips back between your slit, you nearly lose it. “F-Fuck!” you gasp. “Eren, yes! Go deeper!”

Your fingers grasp his long, black locks for dear life, pushing him deeper into your pussy. But he manages to look up to give you a cocky smile. “If you’re louder for me, sure.” Smug motherfucker.

He continues to give you long strokes of his tongue, the cold metal of his piercing melting against the hot, wet, spongy walls of your pussy and somehow making everything more sensitive. “Fuck, please!” you sob. “Please, please fuckin’ give it to me!”

Tears soak your lashes, threatening to fall down your cheeks. This feels too good. It’s almost painful. Eren smiles and proceeds to tongue-fuck you, his nose nuzzling against your clit as he dips his tongue in and out of your hole.

Your moans bounce off of the walls, loud and brazen, unable to be contained. Eren pulls away with a moan as he gazes down at your glittering, sobbing wet pussy. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he groans against your clit. “She’s mine, isn’t she? Only mine?”

Smack! “Oh!” you gasp as his hand comes down onto your clit, smacking it hard. “Fuckin’ tell me what I wanna hear,” he growls. “Tell me that this pussy is mine.” Smack! Smack! You buck from the pleasurable sting, nearly cumming from his calloused palm wetly smacking your cunt.

“I-It’s yours!” you gasp. “It’s yours, Daddy, I swear!”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Good girl,” he coos. “Now cum for me so I can finally fuck that mouth.” He goes right back to tonguing you down with a mission, swiping his nose against your clit as he eats you out so good that you see stars. He moves his jaw with every intention of making you cum. “Do it, mama,” he begs, his words slightly muffled by your sticky cunt. “Cum for me. Give it all to me.”

And you do. You can’t help it. You are controlled by him like a puppet is by her master and with every string he pulls, he makes you gush around his tongue. He greedily moans and laps at all of the cream you give him, gulping it down like a starved man as you moan and call his name to the ceiling, massaging your tits in the throes of your pleasure as you do.

When you finally calm and your back straightens from its arch, Eren pulls away, his lips shining with your juices. “Missed that shit,” he sighs. “Missed you so much.” He bends down to swoop you up in a deep, messy kiss, forcing you to taste yourself. When he pulls away, he is as feral and demanding as he was before. “Sit up, take off my clothes, and open that pretty mouth up fa’ me.”

Despite your brain still trying to reboot from that orgasm and your limbs feeling like spaghetti, you still do as he says. You sit up on the bed and allow him to kneel in front of you, his crotch right in your face. He watches as you peel off his pants and underwear while he toes off his socks, soon leaving himself completely naked. You admire his toned muscles, your hands gliding down his stomach to his V-line and muscular thighs. Oh, how you’ve missed his body.

And how you’ve really missed his cock. He is so hung. So long. So curved, the tip nearly kissing his lower stomach. With a crooked smile, he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock and gently taps it against your chin. Just how you like it. Your jaw falls open and your tongue rolls out, allowing him to tap his head, sticky with pre, against it.

“You remember how I like it, mama?” he asks. “Or do I need to refresh your memory?”

More or less, you do need a memory jogger. But once he’s got that big, long, beautiful cock in your mouth, you are taken back to your dorm years when you used to bob your head for your life giving him top between free periods. His dick stretches out your mouth just the way you remember as he settles on your tongue, his hips slowly rolling against your chin.

“Fuck yes, that’s it,” he moans. “Fuckin’ fuck, I’ve missed this pretty mouth.” He peers down at you with those teal eyes, one hand in your hair while the other cascades down between your open thighs. “Wanna take me deeper, ma? Think my fingers will help you?”

You feel his long fingers prying your pussy lips open and slipping between them to glide along your slit. You moan around Eren’s cock as your pussy pulses and throbs in pleasure, the act somehow making your jaw stretch wider. His fingers then slip into your slippery, velvety-soft pussy while he sinks his cock deep into your throat. “Mmmm!” you moan, the pathetic sound muffled by his cock.

He grins as he begins to fuck your face, ruining your makeup and causing spit to drip down your chin as he fingers you. “That’s it: moan around my cock, baby. I can hear you just fine.” He smirks, curling his fingers upward and making your toes curl as pleasure shocks you to your core. “I can hear somethin’ else too. You’re so fuckin’ wet…”

You concur, your ears perking at the sound of his fingers squelching inside of your sloppy pussy that just keeps drooling and creaming around his long, inked fingers. His cock is just as drenched in your mouth, making wet sounds every time he plunges into your throat, his balls flush against your chin. Every saccharine moan and grunt that leaves his lips pushes you closer to the edge of another orgasm that ripples on the surface.

Eren slips his cock out of your mouth to stroke it furiously in your face, entranced by your moans as he finger-fucks you. “E-Eren!” you warn. “Eren, baby, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!”

Suddenly, the pleasure ceases as he slips his fingers, slick with your juices, out of you. “Uh-uh,” he growls. “Not yet. Not till I’m inside of you.” He brings his fingers up to your mouth and you obediently suck on them, rolling your tongue around his digits. “I’m not finished with you yet, baby, and I know you’re not finished with me.”

He takes you and tosses you back onto the bed, making you bounce against the mattress. Then he is yanking you close by your ankles and hiking your thighs up over his hips, your pretty toes contrasting with his lighter skin tone. “After all, I’ve gotta remind you who fucks you the best. Five years later, and I’m still your best, baby. Let me remind you why. ”

He gives you a shit-eating smile before he takes his cock and–

“Oh, my God!” you gasp, your eyes blown and your mouth agape. As soon as he is inside of you, stretching you, bottoming out in your pussy, you feel like you’re soaring and flying through the heavens. The ecstasy is monumental, opening up your senses in a way where you feel like you were just bit by a radioactive spider. You can taste the sweat on Eren’s tongue; hear every ragged breath he takes as he pumps himself into you; see every vein pulse in his pecs and neck; feel his body throb as you grip his forearms, pectorales, and shoulders.

He stares deep into your eyes as he drills your cunt into the bed, giving you deep, long strokes that make your toes curl and your body writhe in need for more. “And who fucks you the best?” he breathlessly asks. His hand snatches out to grab your throat, massaging it in time with his strokes. “Say it to me nice an’ clear, baby. Tell Daddy who owns you.”

He squeezes your throat a little harder, applying extra pressure to intensify the pleasure you’re swimming in. “You!” you loudly sob. “You do, Daddy! Fuck, just like that, Eren! Please keep fucking me just like that!” You would gladly tell him anything for him to keep fucking you so good. Fat tears soak your lashes sticky with ruined mascara as moans, whimpers, and gasps pass your lips wiped clean of lipgloss.

Eren gives you that very Eren grin–cocky and prideful. Because he knows he’s killing that shit. He releases your throat and applies both hands beside your head to give himself support before thrusting a little faster, his hips rolling in a way that makes his pelvis brush against your clit. “Just like this?” he teases, his hair and chain tickling your face. “Is that good for you, babe?”

You can’t even answer him. The entire English language has been wiped clean from your brain. All because of his cock. His sex. His everything. The way sounds he makes, the heady scent of his cologne, and the lewd sounds of his skin slapping against yours pull you over the edge into the abyss of ecstasy, making your eyes flutter shut and your jaw grow slack. “Cum for me,” he demands. “C’mon, baby, do it again. Gimme that fuckin’ cum.”

He goes faster, harder, drilling your pussy into the bed as if he is trying to win an award doing so. The award is your orgasm which is explosive and intense. “OH!” you shout as you unravel around Eren’s cock. Your moans are loud and desperate as your pussy squeezes around the cock inside of you, your walls clenching and pulsing, giving Eren a hard time trying to hold himself back from a nut.

But not yet. He can’t leave this here. His face flushed and his hair in his face, he pulls his slick cock out of you as you buck and twitch from your orgasm. “Not done,” he growls. “Not done with you yet.”

Suddenly, as quick as a flash, you are on your stomach and Eren is behind you, forcing you onto your hands and knees. Your arms feel like jelly, so all you can do is press your face into the bed as your ass is hiked up for him. He gives it a couple of harsh smacks–Smack! Smack! Smack!–before his cock is slowly sinking back inside of you. “E-Eren, wait!” you squeak. “I’m t-too sensitive!”

His laugh is breathless and enraging. He loves seeing you in agony. “Don’t worry: I won’t go fast.” He presses kisses to your back as he begins to slowly roll his hips into your ass. “Just relax for me, mama. You’re in good hands.”

And then plap-plap-plap go the sounds in the room as he fucks you from behind. Your ass jiggles and claps against his thighs as he gives you deep thrusts that make your pussy melt around him and your clit excitedly jump from the stimulation. “Eren,” you whimper. “Please, please, please!”

Evidently, you’re louder than you thought you were, causing Eren to tut. “You’re so loud, baby…I’ll have to fix that.” He yanks you up and his hand pushes your face to turn to the side, allowing him to give you a deep kiss that steals all of the air out of your lungs just as his cock does. “That’s it,” he coos. “Just enjoy this for me, baby. Lemme give you what you need.”

Then you’re back onto the bed, your face in the mattress and your moans swallowed by the sheets as the man above you fucks you absolutely dumb. You don’t know which way is up and which is down. The world spins around you, dizzying yet intoxicating, the sex you’re receiving turning you inside out.

“So slutty,” Eren chuckles above you, rolling his hips as he sinks his cock deep inside of your wet, heavenly hole. “Just listen to all the sounds you’re makin’ for me. Bet your man couldn’t make you sound like this.” He leans down to press himself fully against you, his pelvis brushing against your ass. “Y’know, I never forgot about you,” he whispers. “I never stopped lovin’ you, Y/N.”

His soft lips begin to caress your neck and shoulders before he picks both himself and you up, giving himself a chance to prop his leg up. The new position leaves you a moaning, sobbing mess, your pussy suddenly having no choice in the matter of cumming again. You grab the sheets so tight that your knuckles turn white as you feel your third orgasm cresting. “Eren,” you moan. “Oh, fuck, m’gonna…gonna…!”

“Yeah?” he teasingly asks. “You wanna cum all over this dick again, huh?” He wrenches your head back with his hand on your chin. “Then tell me that you love me. Tell me you love it when I fuck you.”

“I-I…” Your mind is moving a million miles a second, the pleasure leaving a thick fog in front of your sense of reality. You know you shouldn’t, but the way Eren fucks you is too good to resist telling him anything he doesn’t wish to hear: “I love you,” you whisper, the forbidden words passing your lips. “I love you so much, Daddy! I love it when you fuck me! You do it so good!”

You feel him smile against your cheek, his other hand gripping your ass as you begin to furiously rub at your clit, your fingers slipping and sliding along the rosebud. “Now tell me that you’re gonna leave that asshat for me.”

The fog clears a bit and it is enough for you to process what he just said. “W-What?” you stammer. “Eren–”

He roughly bends you over, cutting you off, and gives your ass a harsh smack that sends your clit into a frenzy. “Say it,” he orders. “Say it and I’ll let you cum. Tell me you’re gonna break up with him as soon as tonight is over.” Harder. Faster. His thrusts grow more intense than ever, making it a point to make you so insane and so desperate that you fall apart at the seams.

“Say it!” he bellows. “Fuckin’ say it!”

Tears soak the sheets and officially ruin your makeup as your self-control leaves you. You know that you are about to commit the ultimate betrayal just to get your nut. “I’ll leave!” you sob. “I’ll leave him for you, Daddy! I love you so, so much!”

The laugh that leaves Eren’s mouth is evil, damn near entering villain territory. “I love you too, baby,” he laughs. “Now cum for me like a good girl.” All it takes is a few more of those luscious, mind-blowing thrusts until you are cumming uncontrollably around his cock once more, screaming into the bed as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

Eren moves faster, fucking your cum-soaked pussy with vigor to chase his own high, massaging and palming your ass as he does. He then pulls himself out of you and furiously strokes his dick against your butt, the sounds of his hand stroking his wet cock drifting in the air. “Fuck, fuck!” he grunts before he lets out a series of luscious moans as ropes of cum spurt from his cock and onto your asscheeks.

You tiredly whimper as you feel warm spurts of his spunk hit your skin, signaling the end for the both of you. Your body and pussy throb in tandem from the session, your skin soaked in sweat, the air heedy with the scent of sex. Eren raggedly exhales and collapses next to you onto his stomach. His hand slides across your back, running gently down your spine. “That’s my sexy fuckin’ baby,” he coos.

You can’t say anything back. Exhaustion has taken over and suddenly, so has sleep. You don’t make a fuss as Eren pulls you up the bed and helps you under the covers, the cool sheets settling across your damp skin. You feel his body next to yours, the scent of his sweat and cologne filling your nostrils. Your cheek rests against his chest as his hand tangles in your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp. “Sleep now. I’ll be seein’ you soon.”

You don’t answer because sleep has made her arrival and has swept you away to quiet and serene nothingness.

When you awaken the next morning to the winter sun pouring in through your bedroom window, you are alone. The bed is made and your dress is neatly folded at your feet. It is as if nothing happened last night and you slept alone.

But the delicious ache in your body tells you differently. And the note sitting by your lamp along with a glass of orange juice and an Aspirin definitely tells you differently.

With your head clearing from the sleep and the reality of your horrible situation hitting you (along with a hangover), you pick up the note and read Eren’s messy handwriting:

Thanks for last night. Hit me up again soon. xxxx

-Love Always, Your Best

Putting the note down, you grab your house phone from the nightstand and dial Kaido’s number. It is the one thought you have to do first to start your morning. Not stretching. Not getting a glass of water. Not showering or brushing your teeth or contemplating whether or not to kill yourself because you slept with your toxic ex-boyfriend.

Instead, you face reality head-on like a real bitch as Kaido’s voicemail enters your eardrum: “Hi, this is Kaido Ashida! I’m not here right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

Beep. Your mouth opens. “Kaido,” you automatically say. “Hi…it’s me. I think we need to talk after last night.”

And then the guilt sets in as you stare down at Eren’s note, your body teeming for another night with him soon. “I don’t think this is gonna work,” you sigh.

THE END.

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