#and like. I guess you can reach out just to ask if they want to reconnect + discuss what happened

[igbylicious]

whichever way: crossed roads [yunwoosan x reader]

pairing: yunwoosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 15k

summary: Yunho never got to have the threesome he wanted with San and Wooyoung — but he sees no reason to complain, not when he gets to have a foursome with you instead.

note: this is a oneshot sequel to my series whichever way. imo it’s prob more fun w/ context & the start will be less confusing, but this fic is like 90% sex so if you’re just here for the smut then i’m sure you’ll still have a good time ♡(>ᴗ•)

warnings: OH BOY GET READY. foursome, dom Yunho & San, sub Wooyoung & reader, m x m, triple penetration (you have three holes for a reason), bigdick San but monstercock Yunho, voyeur reader, soft cnc play, body worship, hand kink, dirty talk, subspace, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hand-on-throat, choking, dumbification, objectification, praise & degradation kink, spanking, pussy slap, cock slap, fake sweet Yunho my beloved, reader wears a babydoll, tie as an improvised blindfold, partially clothed sex, blowjob / face fucking, cum play, footjob (reader receiving) (sorry not sorry), dacryphilia, thigh-fucking, cockwarming, vaginal/anal fingering/sex, cumshots, creampies, buttplug (for Woo), mention of fisting, lowkey marathon sex, no condom in sight, nicknames for reader (good/pretty girl, sweetheart, baby, pervert, cockslut, toy, cocksleeve), aftercare, off-screen kink negotiation

a/n: features a soft-bodied aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns & is in an established QPR w/ Woosan. she’s called ‘little’ but like cute/demeaning, not a reflection on physical size

a/n²: anyway this fic is for the readers who love their rightful place on the fujoshi throne, but also want to be worshipped in the center of attention like the royalty they are <3

“So uh… is having sex together still on the table?”

Wooyoung looks around him expectantly. The grin on his face is cheeky, but the question completely serious.

“Woo, really?” San pinches the bridge of his nose, his cheeks still flushed, but he’s slowly recovering from the the series of curve balls thrown past him in the past minute.

Meanwhile, you are struck by the most intense feeling of deja vu, a memory echoing through your head of that fated question Wooyoung once asked you:

“Did you like the view?”

…Well. You had just been staring at Yunho’s hands. You glance at him again, his handsome face and soft tousled hair, the easygoing confidence with which he holds himself — and you can’t deny that you also like this view very much indeed.

Yunho bursts out in a surprised laugh at Wooyoung’s question, hiding his mouth behind one of those distractingly large hands. “Hey now, you aren’t saying that out of pity, are you!”

“Pity?” Wooyoung snorts, offended at the suggestion. “Come on Yunho, you know me better than that.”

“Hm, I guess you’re right, I do,” Yunho hums, contemplative. His eyes, usually bright and alive with joy, are now pinned on you with dark interest, studying your reaction to all of this.

You shiver at his intense gaze, wondering if the hard glint in Yunho’s gaze is a glimpse of what he’s like as a dom.

You’ve asked San questions about his past with Yunho, of course, but never pressed beyond what he willingly shared. Instead you buried your curiosity; you always assumed you’d never experience them as a team in the bedroom anyway, so why torture yourself with impossible fantasies?

But that is where Wooyoung is different from you; the bold, wise, Wooyoung, who knows better than to make assumptions. Who knows you can always just ask.

(Fuck, you need to thank him later.)

Now all your dormant curiosity comes flooding to the surface, giving your vivid imagination free reign. You swallow and reflexively reach up to brush your hand over your throat, wondering what it’d feel like to have those long fingers there instead.

Yunho’s eyes follow the movement, burning heat into your skin. His tongue prods the inside of his cheek, so briefly you almost miss it, then he turns to San.

“Well, how about it, San-ah?” he says, a playful grin curling around his lips. “A reunion, for old time’s sake?”

San lets out a deep, slow sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. But it’s not a ‘no’; you recognise the look in his eyes for what it is. Fluster, yes — but his embarrassment is rapidly overwhelmed by something else entirely, sharp and smouldering. You’ve often seen that look on him before, for the first time right after Wooyoung asked you how you liked the view, so long ago by now.

Seems like San likes the view too.

“Fuck, you guys are unbelievable,” he breathes with a wry chuckle, biting his lip as he looks over you, Wooyoung and Yunho. “Yeah. Why the hell not? Let’s fucking do it.”

It just doesn’t seem right, but somehow life still goes on as normal after an earth-shaking conversation like that. So there you are the next afternoon, unpacking the last boxes from the move like it’s a perfectly ordinary day.

Wooyoung is already back to work at the flower store so it’s just you and San, filling up the half-empty bookcase. Each of you are going through a pile of games; you are sorting tabletop games, while San handles the console ones.

But while life might appear to go on like normal, there are definitely a few charged looks between you and San. Like you’re sizing each other up all over again, imagining all the ways he could wreck you with the help of his old partner-in-kink. A faint buzz of anticipation tingles across your skin, your mind constantly gliding away from the stack of cardgames that you’re supposed to organise.

Not much has been set in stone yet; you couldn’t exactly hash out all the dirty details on the spot, on a balcony with the door wide open and half your friends right inside. Instead Yunho promised he’d check his work calendar and text to set a date for a proper talk tomorrow, and that was the end of it for that day.

(The end of talking about it, at least. Your thoughts had still been going a thousand miles an hour, even into the night. You did have a relaxed morning with San and Wooyoung, quietly celebrating your first breakfast in the new apartment with a big spread of food, but now those thoughts are picking up speed again.)

“So. Yunho, huh?” you finally say, trying to sound casual as you speak the unspoken between you and San.

He snorts. “Yeah. Yunho. Gotta say, didn’t have that on my bingo card for our official moving in day.”

“And what a shame too,” you shake your head with a dramatic sigh. “You came so close to winning!” (But Wooyoung had taken the victory when ‘Seonghwa knocks over a pot of paint’ gave him a full column down the middle of his card.)

“Don’t remind me!” San pouts. “All I needed was you breaking a glass or a mug, I thought I had it for sure. You really let me down there.”

“Pff what? Sorry I guess??” you say, rolling your eyes, but then give him a cheeky little grin. “What are you gonna do, punish me for not being clumsy enough?”

San raises an interested eyebrow. “Could, yeah…” he says, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip in consideration. “Could even ask Yunho to lend me a hand, I suppose.”

A heat creeps up your neck. “A hand, huh?” you say, trying and failing to sound casual.

“Yeah, you like his hands, right?” he grins.

You let out an embarrassed groan. “Ugh, am I really that obvious?”

“Eh, to be fair, not many people who don’t likes Yunho’s hands,” San says, but his grin widens before you can rejoice too much. “But yes, yes you are. Totally obvious.”

You shoot him a heavy side-look. “Don’t get too cocky, mister ‘openly checked out my ass the day after he moved in next-door to me’!”

“What can I say, it’s a good ass!” he laughs, rosy blush colouring his cheeks. Still, San gives you a thoughtful once-over. “So, is that the kinda direction you’d like this to go in? Might be useful if we hash out some of that stuff among ourselves before we do any negotiation with Yunho.”

“Oh! Actually, about that…”

“Hm?” San encourages you, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

You bite your lip. A thought had struck you yesterday, after you and the guys had gone back to work. A thought that hasn’t let go of you since then.

“Well, you trust Yunho, right? As a dominant?”

“Completely,” San says without hesitation. “Wouldn’t let him in the room with you and Wooyoung if I didn’t.”

“Then… are you okay with it if I sit the negotiation out? Leave things up to you guys?”

San frowns, a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You… don’t want a say in what’ll happen?” he says, looking at you so intently that a wave of self-consciousness washes over you.

“Yeah, kinda? It’s just— It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone but you and Wooyoung, and there’s something exciting about an unknown factor in the bedroom, you know? Not that I’m bored with you!” you add quickly, not wanting San to get the wrong idea. He can be a little sensitive, sometimes. “But… I just like the idea of not knowing Yunho. What kind of dom he is, what things he’s into, what he will do. Does that makes sense?”

Even now, you absent-mindedly rub your thighs together, feeling yourself get worked up at the thrill of the unknown. To have no idea how San and Yunho plan to break you down into bite-sized pieces for their enjoyment, or all the ways you’ll get to watch them do the same to Wooyoung, fucking the brat out of him until even the insatiable is sated.

“Hmm, yeah, makes sense,” San nods, looking you over thoughtfully. “So you want me to talk with Yunho for you then? …You trust me that much?”

There is a softness to his question, touched to have your safety and pleasure placed into his hands — but the flicker of heat behind his eyes does not go unnoticed either. Trust is important to San, more than anything else, and you can tell this does something to him on multiple levels, some of which have nothing to do with softness.

You give him a crooked grin. “Hey. Wouldn’t let you in the room with me if I didn’t.”

San rolls his eyes at your teasing, but his lips can’t help a happy, pleased grin. “Okay, yeah I’m in,” he says, anticipation deepening his voice as his gaze wanders over your body, your skin prickling wherever his eyes go. “I’ll ask Yunho if he’s alright with it too.”

Excitement flutters in your stomach at his intense look. Maybe these cardgames can wait a while longer before putting them away…

Just as you’re about to super subtly suggest to take a break, both of your phones suddenly buzz in quick succession. Must be Wooyoung, you think, sending you a selfie from work or something — but no, it’s not Wooyoung.

The text is from Yunho; he has added you, San and Wooyoung to a new groupchat so you can discuss a date together.

“Woah, he’s quick,” you say, taken aback by Yunho’s reliability on the follow-through. When he said he’d text tomorrow, you figured he meant that in the traditional ‘I fully intend to text tomorrow but I’ll probably forget and get back to you in like a week or so’-way.

“You know what? I’ll try calling him right now,” San says, getting up on his feet. “Ask him how he feels about surprising you.”

You bite your lip as San heads to the balcony to make his call; tempted to stop him so he can help you out with this unrelenting heat building up in your core. Damn, maybe the men in your life are a little too reliable on the follow-through.

Undoubtedly they’ll be one hell of a pair… and you’ll have no idea of their plans for you and Wooyoung.

Wooyoung whistles lowly when you step into his and San’s bedroom, and he looks you over with an admiring grin. “Very nice,” he says, drinking in every detail of your sheer lace babydoll in the dimmed light. “Knew I made the right choice.”

The lace, a see-through deep purple, leaves very little to the imagination. Thin straps hold up the negligee, the cups snugly hugging your breasts. Wooyoung lingers on the plunging neckline, his fingers twitching when he notices how your nipples show through the lace. Then his eyes trail further down, to the skirt that barely covers your upper thighs.

You do a little twirl just for show; and it lifts the hemline even higher, giving Wooyoung an unobstructed glimpse of the matching panties underneath.

Usually you don’t fuss too much with lingerie, but it is a special occasion. Wooyoung even picked it out himself. He casually admitted a curiosity for seeing you dolled up in something sexy, after which you obviously had no other choice but to drag him into a store for some shopping.

(He’d been unexpectedly serious about the task, with not a single pervy comment during the whole shopping trip. Instead he perused the store with his brow deeply furrowed, committed to finding something that’d suit you perfectly — and that he did.)

“Now I get why you didn’t let me take a peek in the changing room,” Wooyoung hums, eyes dark. He steps in closer to run his hands over your sides, getting a feel of the textured lace. “Looks even better on you than it did on the rack. Well… the store rack.” He licks his lips, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts.

Ah, there are the pervy comments. “Lech,” you snort in amusement, but still push his hands down. San had clearly instructed you and Wooyoung to wait, and you’re not about to get into trouble just because Wooyoung can’t keep his hands to himself.

“What? I’m just being appreciative,” Wooyoung says with a wide grin, his fingers now playing with the bottom edge of the babydoll. “Don’t get to see you like this every day.”

“Hm, this isn’t a bad view either,” you admit, eyeing Wooyoung. He’s temptation itself, every inch of him seducing you to defy San’s instructions yourself.

He’s wearing black leather pants, the pair he only hoists himself into when he’s extra keen to impress, combined with an ivory white mesh shirt, oversized and clinging attractively to his shoulders. Usually Wooyoung wears another shirt underneath the mesh, but now only his tan skin peeks through the loosely woven threads. He even got a fresh haircut today — you’d been sceptical when he said he wanted ‘a mullet, kinda’, but now? Now you feel strongly compelled to write his hairdresser a passionate thankyou-note.

You didn’t think it was possible for Wooyoung to reach even higher levels of allure, but the way the long black strands curl against his neck, enough length left on the bangs to fall into his eyes… You haven’t been able to stop touching his hair all day, much to Wooyoung’s poorly-faked chagrin.

(He definitely has the worst poker face you’ve ever seen, constant smiles bullying their way onto his lips whenever you ‘nagged’ him to play with his hair.)

“So you still don’t know what’s gonna happen today, huh?” Wooyoung asks, a dangerous spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Well,” you say, tapping your bottom lip as though deep in thought, “I do have this nagging suspicion we might be having sex. Just an educated guess.”

Wooyoung lets out a breathy chuckle. His fingertips skim over your plush thighs. “Yeah. Maybe.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, looking you up-and-down like you’re a tasty morsel for his consumption. “Or maybe they’ll only let you watch. Sit back while they have their way with me.”

He tugs you a little closer, his mesh shirt brushing up against your lacy bodice. Is he trying to rile you up, or himself?

Your stomach clenches at the thought of only being a spectator. “San wouldn’t be that mean to me, that’s more his style with you,” you argue, but there is a flicker of doubt in your mind. San knows damn well how much you get out of a little voyeurism, so it’s not an impossibility. Often it’d be a source of excitement — but today you’re definitely aching for a little attention yourself.

Wooyoung ignores your objections, too caught up in his little fantasy. “Apparently Yunho is a big boy,” he breathes in your ear, raising goosebumps on your skin, “big everywhere. Sannie says I might not be able to handle him. Want to watch me prove him wrong, see how Yunho stretches me open with that monster cock?”

He giggles at your soft whine, your back involuntarily arching into him.

“Yeah, you’d like that,” Wooyoung murmurs, and presses a firm kiss on your neck. “But it’d be mean to neglect you completely, wouldn’t it? Maybe we should have some fun now, just to be sure.”

Your breath catches as his hands slip under your babydoll, squeezing the back of your thick thighs. His fingers graze against the edge of your panties, perilously close to where heat has started to pool between your legs.

“Wooyoung, no,” you say, reluctantly pushing back against his chest. “S-San told us to wait for him and Yunho.”

“Yeah, so? We can do stuff while we wait.”

Your exasperated laugh comes out as a moan when he nips at your earlobe. “Pff, come on Woo, that’s not what he meant and you know it!”

You make a noise of surprise when Wooyoung suddenly falls down to his knees. “Did he really?” Wooyoung purrs, dangerously, staring up at you with hunger burning in his eyes. “How do you know this isn’t part of today’s plan?”

Wooyoung does not give you time to think about it, pressing his face against your stomach and moaning in adoration of your curves. He mouths at your skin through the chemise, sucking at a soft stomach fold before he gives it a cheeky bite. Wooyoung has never made a secret of how much he loves your body, loves all the places he can sink his teeth into; he made that perfectly clear ever since the first time he laid his hands on you.

“F-fuck, Wooyoung…” you gasp. “I-is it? Part of their plan?”

Wooyoung just hums, continuing to worship you through the lace fabric. Nudging you to spread your legs, his mouth slowly travelling down.

It’s when his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties that you snap back into reality. “Oh my god, it totally isn’t, right?” you laugh, tangling your fingers through his long hair to pull him away. “You’re just trying to get me into trouble, you pest!”

You playfully scold him, lightly smacking at his wandering hand.

Wooyoung pulls back reluctantly, not a trace of remorse in his wicked smile. “What can I say? Damned if I do, bored if I don’t,” he grins up at you. “But in my defence… it was part of the plan.”

He tilts his head to shoot a meaningful glance past you, at the bedroom door behind.

You turn around on reflex — and startle at the sight of San leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, with Yunho towering right behind him.

“See? Told you,” San says to Yunho, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Yunho cocks his head as he studies the scene in front of him, interest shining in his eyes. “Yeah, you did,” he says, his gaze settling on you.

Both of them are dressed smartly, to the point of intimidating; San wears a crisp black dress shirt and black trousers to match. The top buttons of his shirt are opened, and a simple silver chain hangs around his neck with a small, rectangular tag that rests neatly on his bare chest. He’s rolling up his sleeves, drawing attention to his muscular forearms.

Yunho is also in black, decked out in a full suit. His slacks and fitted jacket have a subtle pinstripe that make him look even taller than he already is, with a dark tie and waistcoat underneath. Thick silver rings glitter on Yunho’s long fingers as he rubs his chin, his eyes burning into you.

“In front of the bed, Wooyoung. On your knees,” San orders sharply. “You had your fun, now it’s our turn.”

Wooyoung shoots you one last, brash grin. He pinches your thigh before he does as instructed, eager to let the others have their ‘fun’.

But San saunters over to you first. He has one hand stuffed in his pocket, running two fingertips over his bottom lip as he circles you, inspecting you almost casually.

“Pretty,” he finally says, coming to a stop right in front of you to rub the sheer fabric between his fingers. San’s arm flexes as he moves, his black shirt wrapped snugly around his biceps — and there is something maddening about the knowledge he needed to have it custom fitted, his shoulders too wide for most off-the-shelf dress shirts.

“Be nice to Yunho, hm?” he says, not even looking at your face, more interested in the generous exposure of cleavage. “Don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you just because Wooyoung’s got my cock down his throat. Best behaviour.”

“I will, Sannie,” you hum, a warm flutter in your chest at the hidden reassurance of him watching you. “I’ll behave.”

San pecks your cheek and walks past you to sit down on the bed in front of Wooyoung, legs spread as he runs his hand through Wooyoung’s long hair. Excitement sparks through you at the thought of what they’re about to do — but you’re distracted from the thought when a big, warm hand comes to rest on the small of your back.

“Come,” Yunho rasps by your ear, giving you a little push towards the bed. “Let’s get to know each other a little more.”

You follow meekly, hypnotised by the heavy gravitational pull of his aura, intense and shrouded in mystery. Everything about him is unknown, except that San trusts him implicitly; which means that you do too.

The dark sheets rustle as Yunho tugs you onto the bed with him, guiding you into his lap as he sits up against the headboard.

You settle on Yunho’s thighs, your heart thumping a little louder at the close proximity. You’ve only ever seen Yunho in casual clothes; and he’s already devastating enough like that, a walking personification of the ‘sweet boy next door’-vibe — but the fitted suit hits different.

There’s a cocky, pleased smile on Yunho’s lips at your blatant ogling. He strokes your cheek, his large palm easily cupping your face. A budding fire sparks to life under his touch, fuelled by the skitter of excited nerves at his undivided attention.

Behind you, you hear the faint wet noises of Wooyoung presumably sucking San off; San is groaning lowly, mumbling filthy encouragements to Wooyoung that you can’t quite make out. It’s more than a little distracting, your gaze threatening to drift towards them — until Yunho clasps your chin and guides you back, not as gentle as he could have been.

“Eyes on me,” Yunho warns, raising an eyebrow. He slowly rubs your leg, causing the skirt of your babydoll to bunch at your hips. “You can do that for me, can you?” His thumb digs into your inner thigh. “San told me you’re his good girl. That you listen well.”

You bite your lip at his intense gaze. The sounds behind you fade away into background noise, completely overpowered by the loudness of his thumb grazing against the lace of your panties. Your brain feels a little frazzled already.

“S-San treats me right,” you say, like you owe Yunho some kind of explanation.

Dark eyes pierce into you. “Oh? What if I don’t want to treat you right, though?” Yunho muses, reaching for your neck. “What if I want to tease you until you can’t take it anymore, and then a little more, just because I think you’ll look cute when you squirm and cry?” Ringed fingers drag over the delicate skin of your throat, like he’s testing the fit of his hand. “Would you still be good for me?”

Heat pulses through your blood, focused on where his hand rests. Your lips part to answer him, but all that comes out is a small whimper, your hips shifting in his lap through no choice of your own.

Yunho’s smile widens.

In the past, you’ve caught glimpses of something darker behind Yunho’s golden retriever brightness; but the sweet pup has now disappeared completely, leaving you face-to-face with a shadowed predator, hunger in his eyes. Ready to sink his claws into you.

“You don’t know?” he asks, tilting his head, a taunt hidden in the question. “Hm, you’re a little slow, aren’t you? Guess I’ll have to find out for myself. Let’s see if you can follow one simple instruction.”

“O-one?” You jolt when the nail of Yunho’s thumb scrapes over your panties, dangerously close to your clit.

“Just one,” Yunho hums. “San told me you like to watch him fuck Wooyoung and, well… clearly that’s true. But you’re all mine for now, and I want your full attention. You’re not allowed to look until my say-so, understand? I think you owe me that, for getting to play with them before I did.”

A flash of distress shoots through you at the thought of severing that visual line of connection with San, your trusted, familiar dominant. “But— But San—”

“I’m right here, baby,” San interrupts, his voice coming from right behind you, breath laboured. His hand brushes over the small of your back. “I’ll be here, the entire time. Told you I’d be keeping an eye out, didn’t I? Do as Yunho says.”

San’s firm tone wipes your mind blank, his order flooding through you with tingling warmth. Any illusion of control is gently taken from your hands; you are not in charge here.

“I won’t, promise,” you say, breathless already as your eyes catch Yunho’s, gleaming in dark approval. A pleasant floatiness starts to fill your head like cotton candy. “I won’t look.”

Yunho squeezes your thigh, taking in your show of submission like he’s searching for something. Whatever it is that he needs, Yunho seems to find it in the hazy smile spread across your face.

“Yeah. I’m going to kiss you now,” he says quietly, matter-of-fact; already knowing you will let him.

Despite his warning, your breath still hitches in surprise when Yunho leans forward and — instead of kissing your lips like you expected — his hot mouth presses against your neck. He cradles the back of your head, tongue darting out to taste your quickening pulse.

You whine and instinctively roll your hips into his lap, gasping a quiet “oh fuck” when you press against a sizeable bulge through Yunho’s slacks. The outline only gives you a suggestion of scale, but that is more than enough already; Wooyoung was not messing with you when he called Yunho a ‘big boy’.

Yunho huffs a laugh against your neck as you rock into him. “Needy girl,” he chides, but his hand on your thigh slides back to your ass, encouraging you to move as you please.

And what pleases you is urgency, swirling your hips in rapidly growing desperation. You moan against his mouth when Yunho’s lips finally meet yours in a series of hard, messy kisses, only spurring you on more. His cock twitches against your clothed cunt, and you’re struck with the daunting realisation that he’s not even fucking hard yet.

Behind you, Wooyoung whimpers loudly again, piercing through the fog — but this time you don’t turn around, kissing Yunho harder instead, sucking his tongue into your mouth. You grind into his lap with single-minded need, chasing sharp sparks of pleasure as Yunho matches your frantic rhythm.

Slowly, slick leaks through your panties and dirties his fancy slacks. All inhibitions gone, you push his jacket off his shoulders. Yunho temporarily breaks his hold on you to throw it aside, ignoring how the jacket lands on the floor. You fumble with his tie and the top buttons of his shirt, but eventually manage to reveal a smooth expanse of skin for you to run your hands over. Yunho groans at the touch, his head falling back.

Somewhere in a far distance you can still hear Wooyoung, his moans mingled with dirty wet squelches set in a fast, ruthless pace. You can’t help but respond to his whiny moans with your own, like a desperate call-and-answer between you, but you still don’t look away from Yunho.

“San was right,” Yunho says, eyes lidded as he smiles lazily at your resolve to obey his rule. “You are a good girl after all. So well-behaved for me, aren’t you?”

He delights at how you cry out when he grabs your waist, forcing you to stay in place. “Y-yeah, for you, only you…” you gasp, slumping in surrender of his strong grip.

“Then tell me,” he murmurs, hot breath fanning over your face, “which hole do you want my fingers to stretch out first?”

Something short-circuits in your brain at the word ‘first’. You whimper as Yunho nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it with his teeth. The decision comes easily, driven by a desperate need for release. “Pussy, please Yunho, need you inside me…”

Yunho’s dark smile widens.

“Good,” he rasps, and boldly cups your clothed mound, “I’ve always wondered what’s so special about this pussy. Just one look at that needy hole and those two couldn’t stay away from you, could they? Always coming back for more until they couldn’t let go of you at all.”

He absent-mindedly toys with your sodden panties through his musings, rubbing his fingertips over your covered slit. You whine and arch your back, shuddering at the indirect contact.

“So sensitive,” Yunho grins. “This’ll be fun.” Finally he pulls the lace aside, and plunges his middle finger right in your drenched cunt.

Immediately Yunho sets a hard pace. He alternates between hard thrusts and delicious curls of his finger, quickly sliding in a second. The stretch has you keening; already you feel the difference between Yunho’s fingers with his thick rings compared to San or Wooyoung’s, hitting deeper inside your twitching cunt.

Yunho keeps your chin tilted up to ply your lips with languid kisses, intense and breathtaking; and a dizzying contrast with the ruthless slam of his wrist. You match his thrusts with shameless abandon, your loud moans almost enough to drown out the wet smacking sounds coming from San and Wooyoung behind you.

Your voice cracks on a strangled cry at a press of Yunho’s fingers against your g-spot, and he giggles at the discovery. “Yeah? That feels good right there?” he asks, his voice sweetly mocking as he hones in on the bundle of nerves. “Fuck, I was right; you do look cute when you squirm. Give me a little more, you can take it. Let’s get you nice and loose for me.”

Dizzy on the burn, you pant slack-jawed against Yunho’s mouth when he adds a third finger, your throbbing walls straining against the intrusion. Your toes curl with every brush of his thumb against your clit, warmth spreading through your body as the overwhelming barrage of sensations crashes over you. Your moans go up in pitch, thighs shaking — until suddenly Yunho’s fingers slow down, shifting away from that perfect angle.

“Poor thing, were you close?” Yunho coos when you sob at the receding high. Gently he strokes your hair, like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you. “So clumsy of me, not letting you cum. Here, let me make it up to you, hm? Yeah, that’s it.”

You arch into him with a needy whine when his free hand palms your breast, squeezing harshly. Yunho bends down to suck your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the lace-covered bud. The textured fabric adds to the intensity of his attention, scraping over your skin as he sucks and bites at your tit, drenching the lace with his spittle.

He starts moving his fingers again, curling them in the exact way that had you trembling earlier, and this time he does not stop. You clutch onto his shoulders for dear life, whimpering helplessly as the sharp sparks of overstimulation set in. Your body is hypersensitive from the denial and Yunho gave you no time to come down from it, ruthlessly pushing you towards your limit.

“Too much,” you whine when a fourth finger prods at your entrance, its burn setting you aflame. “Fuck, Y-Yunho, I’m—hmn!— ‘s t-too much, ah ah ahh—”

Yunho releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet ‘pop’, looking up at you with dark, glimmering eyes. “Don’t give me that,” he chastises. “It’s not. Because when I asked San if you could handle this, he said you can. And we both know that he knows your body better than you do.” Yunho’s voice is low with a hardened edge. “So no. It’s not ‘too much’. Just be good and take one more.”

San. San said you can take it. Your brain is like mush, a dazed fog clouding your thoughts. You take it. Not your place to think about these things. It’s not too much. San said so.

You sink freely into the needling blend of pain and pleasure, surrendering yourself to it as you fuck yourself open on four of Yunho’s fingers. San was right; it’s not long before the pain fades, and the only burn left is that of pure bliss.

(There is rustling behind you, the bed sinking under added weight. San growls something inaudible, Wooyoung mewls wretchedly in response. You want to look. You don’t look.)

“See?” Yunho chuckles as you pant against his shoulder, shamelessly humping his hand. “You don’t know the first thing about what you need. Drooling on my shirt while that pretty pussy drools on my fingers. So fucking wet, what a desperate cunt you have. Fucking filthy.”

Your hips jerk when his thumb finds your clit again. The haze of pleasure coils into a tight wire, thrumming through your body. Your pace grows sloppier, erratic, but Yunho is right there, picking up the slack. His free hand kneads the nape of your neck while the other slams into you with rough snaps of his wrist. White-hot pleasure bursts in your core, flooding your system as you cry out hoarsely, your fingers clamping onto Yunho’s jacket as you clench around him with stuttered thrusts, tears brimming on your lashes.

Slowly you ride out the staggering waves, whining pitifully with every aftershock. You slump against Yunho’s chest, breathless and spent, but still moaning in dissatisfaction when his fingers slide out your cunt, stretched open beyond what you thought you could take.

Your head spins as you gasp for air — and though you and Yunho have stopped moving, the bed still creaks underneath you, with familiar whiny moans filling the bedroom. You don’t even think about it, can’t think, when you peek back over your shoulder.

Vision blurred from unshed tears, you just barely make out the forms of San and Wooyoung.

San is still mostly clothed, only his trousers undone and shirt halfway open, while Wooyoung is stark naked in contrast. San is hunched over him, grunting as he finger-fucks him hard, his free hand pinning Wooyoung’s thigh to hold him down as he jerks and cries out at the punishing pace.

He’s completely lost in the throes of pleasure, head thrown back and spine arching, his unpinned leg kicking out and spasming. His cock is hard and leaking on his stomach, his hand harshly smacked away when he reaches down for relief. San revels in his whines with a toothy grin… a grin that widens when he glances over and sees you looking at him.

“Oh baby, no.”

Your memory jolts back to life with a shock, eyes widening, but it’s too late.

A hand closes around your throat, silver rings digging into your skin, and you gasp as Yunho forces you to look at him. You whimper, fully expecting to see fury in his eyes — and are thrown completely off balance when Yunho is pouting cutely instead, an unnerving contrast to his rough hold on you.

“And you were doing so well,” he sighs. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you? What a little pervert you are, you really love watching them that much. What about me, hm?”

“I-I—” You stammer, blood rushing down your core you as his thumb slowly presses down on the side of your neck. “Yunho, ‘m so—”

Your breath goes wheezy at the pressure, all while Yunho stares you down with those big, beautiful eyes. His pout fades away, leaving nothing but cool disappointment. “I get jealous, you know,” he murmurs, leaning in to nose at your cheek, lips brushing against your jaw. “Don’t wanna share just yet. What’s a guy gotta do to keep your attention?”

You suck in a tight breath when Yunho smacks his other hand against your ass, and then again, warming the skin. You whine at every impact, reflexively arching into it. Needing more.

“Ah, so that gets your attention,” Yunho says, his eyebrows raising with interest. “You know what I think?” His fingers tighten around your neck ever so slightly. You feel dizzy, drowning in heat. “I think San has been too soft on you. A spoiled little cockslut like you gets to do whatever she wants around him, don’t you?”

You weakly shake your head ‘no’; a bald-faced lie. San is soft like whipped cream when it comes to you.

Predictably, Yunho doesn’t buy it for a second. His palm connects with your ass again, a little harder this time. “No? You really expect me to believe that?” Yunho scoffs. “I bet all it takes is one needy look from those pretty eyes and he’s right down on his knees for you.”

Wooyoung’s whines are suddenly replaced by a loud cackle of his laughter — but a smacking sound rings through the bedroom and he yelps sharply, giggling apologies to San.

San mumbles out a sulky, “Seriously, Yunho?” and you can’t help but choke out a giggle of your own. Even Yunho’s mask breaks for a split second, his cheeks lifting as he bites down a laugh.

The intense, heated atmosphere lifts for just a moment as Yunho’s grip on your throat relaxes. But the respite does not last long, his bright smile morphing into cool, mocking amusement as he looks you over.

“But I can’t let this slide,” Yunho says, smoothly putting things back on track. “You had one simple rule to follow, and you couldn’t even do that? What, did I fuck the sense out of you with just my fingers?”

You cry out when he slaps your cunt, taking a beat too long to respond for his liking.

“Well?”

“J-just felt too good, please please, Yunnie…” You weakly grasp at his rumpled shirt, fiddling with the few remaining buttons. “Didn’t mean to break the rule, I swear,” you babble, “made me feel so good, filling me up like that, I couldn’t think…”

They’re exactly the kind of pleas that would appeal to the soft gooey center hidden underneath San’s hard dominant exterior — but Yunho is unimpressed, raising an eyebrow as he watches you clumsily undo the rest of his shirt. “Couldn’t help yourself from being a dirty voyeur, is that it?”

“Y-yeah,” you pout at him. “Didn’t mean to, Yunho, please…”

He tsks. “So it’s that easy to fuck you dumb, huh? Came just once and already your head is wiped clean. Fine, if you can’t follow orders on your own,” He slides his dishevelled tie from his neck with a sharp snap of fabric, “then I’ll have to make you.”

You moan weakly when Yunho covers your eyes with his tie as an improvised blindfold, the world going dark. Your heart beats in your throat at the absence of one of your senses, while the others intensify; the heady smell of sex in the bedroom, Yunho’s arms brushing against the sides of your head. (San’s grunts, Wooyoung sobbing out his name in growing desperation. Just from the sound, you can tell he is close.)

“It’s not too tight?” Yunho checks in after he ties the knot, giving the nape of your neck an unexpectedly gentle squeeze.

You shake your head. “No, no it’s good.”

“Good,” Yunho echoes lowly. “Take your panties off.”

Seated on your knees in Yunho’s lap, with no sight to guide you, you’re forced into an awkward shuffle to slip out of the ruined lace. Yunho doesn’t lift a hand to help you — but eventually you manage to discard the panties and settle back into Yunho’s lap. You can only imagine how your cunt must be making a mess of his slacks, slick leaking into his crotch.

Your breath hitches in surprise when Yunho’s hands suddenly run up your sides, dragging along the sheer fabric of your babydoll. He makes a noise of approval when you raise your arms without a verbal prompt, and he takes off the lingerie while careful to keep the improvised blindfold in place.

Yunho’s tie is now the only scrap of fabric on you. You shudder when his hands run over bare skin, feeling exposed, unable to see his face as he takes in your nude form for the first time. But insecurity gets no chance to grab hold, not when his exploration of your body is eager and impassioned. He maps out your shape with rough squeezes, fingers digging into soft flesh, like his eyes alone can’t fully appreciate the sight of you.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groans, and you jolt at an unexpected open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder. He huffs a laugh at your surprise, raising goosebumps as his hot breath falls against the wet patch he sucked into your skin. “Now, let’s see if this next instruction is easier for you to follow. Touch my cock. Show me you’re a good girl after all.”

You obey with almost embarrassing swiftness, blindly seeking out the bulge in his crotch with your hand. It’s an easy target to find. You start to rub Yunho through his dirtied slacks — but Yunho tuts, his teeth nipping at your shoulder in admonishment. “Not like that. Touch it.”

You hesitate for a moment, but your head has cleared enough that it does not take long to catch his meaning. It takes you a little longer to fumble with the button and zipper of his trousers, but then you’re able to tug them and the waistband of his underwear down. Satisfaction coils in your abdomen at Yunho’s moaned sigh when your fingers wrap around him. With slow strokes, you finally get a proper feel of what he’s packing, and a heated rush of gratitude shoots through you for how thoroughly Yunho stretched you open. Fuck.

He’s warm under your touch, but also a little dry. You raise up a hand to your mouth, tongue darting out to messily slather your palm and fingers with saliva. Spit smears over your chin, but you don’t care. Yunho does care, hissing a swear under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re a nasty little thing,” he mutters appreciatively, grabbing your wrist to guide you back to his cock. “Both hands now, baby. Yeah, just like that. There’s a sweet girl.”

You can’t even make your fingers meet, using one hand to slide up and down his length while focusing on the tip with the other. Even without seeing it, the thought of that fat cockhead pressing inside you is both daunting and mouth-watering. Yunho lets out a deep groan as you twist your fist and you hone in on the motion, licking your lips when his cock twitches in your hands.

His breath picks up as you jerk him off, and you’re itching to tear away the blindfold, wanting to see how his face contorts in pleasure at your hands. Images flit through your head, of his heavy lidded eyes as he bites his lip, a pretty flush creeping up his neck.

Your pace falters for a moment when suddenly Yunho’s large hands press into your thighs, his thumbs slowly inching inward. One of his thumbs parts your sticky lower lips, the other teases just above your clit. Whining, you cant your hips into him, expecting Yunho to withdraw — and so you gasp in surprise when he actually obliges you, pressing his thumb firmly against the sensitive nub.

You moan in gratitude, moving your hand quicker. “P-please, Yunho…” you whine, tilting your head forward in search of his lips, shamelessly needy.

“So eager,” Yunho giggles, noses bumping into each other as he meets your lips for a clumsy kiss. “Such a sweet thing when you just listen. That’s all you need to do for me. Don’t think, just sit there and show me what an obedient little toy you are. So good to me.”

Even blindfolded, the world spins dizzingly around you. Yunho’s thumb rubs sharp sparks of electricity through your swollen clit, and you can barely parse what he’s saying. Just enough to know you are being good, and that’s all your addled mind needs, the praise swelling hotly in your chest.

You whine, just the touch of Yunho’s cock in your hands not enough. You ache to see him, taste him, hear the wet squelch of him filling up your empty, stretched cunt.

“God, you’re so fucking cute when you’re desperate,” Yunho mumbles against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip. “It really is a damn shame, I was gonna let you watch San make a mess of Wooyoung’s pretty tits, but no, you just had to get greedy. Oh, I know, sweetheart, I know,” he laughs breathlessly at your distressed whine, his thumb on your clit replaced by two fingers, teasing at your entrance. “But at least you still get to listen in on the fun. Lucky for you, Wooyoung can’t keep quiet even if he tried.”

“Could gag him,” San interjects from behind, a cocky grin folded into the suggestion. Wooyoung makes a wet, garbled noise that summons visions of his mouth stuffed with San’s fingers.

Yunho giggles darkly at the suggestion. “What’s this mean streak all of a sudden, San-ah? Trying to prove you’re not such a softie after all?”

“Don’t got a thing to prove, just ask Wooyoung,” San grunts, a sharp smack of skin on skin sounding through the bedroom, followed by a ragged gasp for air. “’Youngie, am I being soft on you?”

Wooyoung’s voice comes out hoarse. “Ngh, please, wanna cum… Sannie…”

Another smack fills the air, followed by a loud whimper as the mattress bounces underneath you. “Answer the question, Woo.”

“Mhn n-no —ah!— no! ‘S being mean, please please—” he whines, his mindless babbling searing through you.

Yunho giggles again, casually, like he isn’t sliding three fingers deep into your needy cunt. He holds them still, simply buried inside you. “Fuck, look at that mess, he’s just eating this up, isn’t he?” Yunho says, enjoying the view he’s so cruelly denying you. “What a fucking wreck. Could make him lick the dust off your boots and he’d be panting like a dog.”

Wooyoung’s whines rise in volume and pitch, dripping with blissful agony — until the noise is suddenly smothered. But San can’t silence him completely, and you quietly whine along with Wooyoung, starting to feel neglected as you gently swivel your hips to try and find some friction against Yunho’s fingers.

Instantly Yunho’s other hand connects with your ass, hard, his silver rings adding an extra bite to the impact. The pain is heavenly.

“See?” he chides, roughly groping at the sore spot as you squirm in his lap. “Not so fun when the person you’re fucking won’t pay attention to you, is it?”

You moan something that tries to be an apology but Yunho’s fingers slowly curl inside your aching cunt. He presses right against your g-spot, sending your every nerve ending on high alert, only making your body beg for more. You whine at his teasing, blindly clutching at his unbuttoned shirt in silent plea.

“Aw, there’s no need to pout,” Yunho says, that deceptive sweetness seeping back into his voice. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart, we can have some fun too. Let’s play a little game. If you can make me cum before San, then I’ll let you watch him.”

Acutely aware of San’s low groans and Wooyoung’s muffled sobs, you perk up at the opportunity. “Th-then, can I suck you off? Please?”

Yunho’s cock twitches in your hands. “Fuck, baby. I can see why San likes to spoil you so much, asking so nicely,” he grunts, filling your head with a fuzzy heat as his fingers stroke against your sweet spot. “Does your throat take cock well, pretty girl? Would you choke on it for me?”

“Yes, y-yes please, Yunho please—”

Still blindfolded, you welcome Yunho’s assistance as he helps you to settle between his thighs. Your legs are folded underneath you, your chest resting on your knees as you bend down, ass perked up. Your breath catches when Yunho’s hand returns to your throat, guiding you until something hot and sticky bumps against your cheek. Your tongue darts out, and you moan in satisfaction at the salty tang of precum.

His cockhead slides past your lips, where your mouth confirms what your hands already suspected; he is thicker than San, and every added strain to your jaw is felt at this size.

You moan at the heft of him on your tongue, taking his cock as deep as you comfortably can for the first pass. Without sight, it’s hard to judge how much of him fits in your mouth, but you try not to overthink it, simply easing yourself into a rhythm.

Yunho’s soft sighs and hissed curses burn through you, the sound mingled with Wooyoung’s muffled noises. San’s attempts to silence his moans do very little to make them less enticing, desperation dripping off every smothered whine. Still, you slowly forget the goal behind this game, distracted by the satisfying challenge of sucking Yunho off.

You take him a little deeper with every bob of your head, your hand covering what your mouth can’t manage. “A little more,” Yunho murmurs in heated encouragement. “You want me to cum, don’t you? Then work for it.”

Breathing becomes a challenge when the tip of him breaches your throat, your pharynx instinctively contracting at the intrusion. Yunho groans, his fingers tensing around your throat when you gag on his cock with a wet, lewd noise.

You faintly register a shuffling sound, weight shifting as Yunho repositions himself — and suddenly there’s an odd pressure between your thighs. Drool leaks past your stretched lips as you make a garbled noise of surprise. The ball of Yunho’s foot is pressed right against your core. He holds it still there, almost like an offer.

Experimentally, you swivel your hips into his foot. Pleasure bursts through your veins, a trickle of drool spilling down your chin as you moan at the much-needed friction. You’d been pretty worked up by Yunho earlier, and it doesn’t take much to get you back to that high. He groans at how you’re shamelessly humping against him, and he grinds the ball of his foot back into you, only spurring you on more. Your control slips away, eyes tearing up as you gag and choke on Yunho’s cock over and over again.

“F-fuck, hang on baby. Want you to look at me while I fuck that pretty mouth,” Yunho says tightly, shaky fingers releasing the tie covering your vision.

You blink away bleary tears as the dimmed bedroom light hits your eyes. Yunho throws the tie aside and cups your stuffed face, thumbs catching the tears streaming down your cheek. You glance up, moaning loudly when you see Yunho’s face.

Somehow, he looks almost exactly like you pictured him — but at the same time, the sight of him is a pale imitation of your fantasies at best. A deep flush colours his neck and ears, beautiful eyes blown and heavy-lidded, bottom lip swollen from the way he gnaws at it.

“There, that’s better,” he says, a lopsided smile gracing his lips. “Don’t wanna miss that needy look on your face. Just hit my thigh if you have to tap out, alright?”

You moan in confirmation, then Yunho puts a large hand on the back of your head, pushing himself deeper down your throat. His other hand comes to rest on your throat again, right underneath your jaw. He groans in satisfaction when the light squeeze of his fingers meets his cockhead at the back of your throat, your walls spasming around him.

Quickly Yunho sets a rough pace — rough, but still controlled; he pushes at your limits, always testing them, but never too far beyond how deep you took him before. The ball of his foot pushes against your cunt again, and you let out a garbled, wet moan at the sharply building pressure, spittle and precum forced past your lips with every obscenely loud gag of your throat.

“Oh fuck, this won’t take long,” Yunho grunts tightly. “Doing so well, what a good cocksleeve you are.”

You keen around him, light-headed from both your partially obstructed airways and his breathless praise. He’s too generous, you think; you can now see the neglected part of his dick, unwarmed by your mouth. You ache to feel him stretch out your cunt, longing to prove no inch of him will be neglected there.

But Yunho clearly does not mind. His face is contorted with sweet agony, breath picking up as he throbs in your mouth. He curses under his breath when you grind back against his foot, his jaw falling slack like your mindless rutting is getting him off as much as your warm, willing mouth is. You whimper as the coiling heat inside your abdomen overflows into intense release, flooding your system with piercing surges of pleasure, going limb in Yunho’s hold as you shake and tremble. It’s too much for him. With beautiful, ragged moans, Yunho tenses as he spills hotly down your throat, thick ropes of cum that almost make you choke all over again.

The tears prickling behind your eyes go sharp, and you give Yunho’s thigh two quick taps of your hand.

Immediately his hold on you relaxes, allowing you a dizzying pull for air as his cock slides out. You don’t let him go too far, holding him at the base while you kiss at the tip, smearing your lips with a white sheen.

“God, you’re too much,” Yunho groans, his softening cock twitching under your attentions. “C’mon, you earned your reward. Just in time to watch the end of the show.”

Yunho helps you to sit up, gathering you in his arms. First he sweetly sucks at your lips, his tongue swiping them clean of his cum, then he lets you rest against his flushed chest, rubbing a soothing hand over your back. Your jaw feels a bit sore, but you tiredly nuzzle into Yunho with a satisfied sigh, pressing a soft kiss on his sternum. He lets out a breathy laugh at the gesture, almost a little flustered.

Only then do you turn your head to look and San and Wooyoung, and this time there is no punishment; only a glorious reward.

The buttons of San’s dress shirt are completely undone — a few of them torn straight off. He has Wooyoung’s ankles thrown over one shoulder, fucking his thighs with hard thrusts, a hand splayed over Wooyoung’s mouth. San’s teeth are gritted, his tight dress shirt doing nothing to hide how his muscles flex with every slam of his pelvis against the back of Wooyoung’s legs. The wet smacking noise of San’s cock pushing between supple thighs easily overpowers Wooyoung’s weak whimpers, an angry flush to the glistening tip.

Wooyoung keens louder when he realises they have an audience, squirming against San’s hold. His cock slaps against his stomach in time with San’s thrusts, covered with crusted, dried cum. You can only guess at who came already, both of them hard and desperate.

“You can stop holding back now, San,” Yunho teases him. “She took her punishment like a good girl, just like you said she’d be. Her pretty eyes are on you now. Give her something good to look at, hm?”

San jerks his head to look at you, something wild and primal burning in his gaze. To think of his aggressive rut as ‘holding back’ feels impossible… yet he proves Yunho right all the same.

San’s hand lets go of Wooyoung’s mouth, who whines loudly when he’s released. His face is red and puffy and wet; and he sobs harder when San angles himself lower so his cock slides against Wooyoung’s with every thrust. Overwhelmed, Wooyoung’s eyes squeeze shut — but they snap back open with a cry when San harshly spanks his outer thigh.

“Look at her, Woo,” San grinds out. “Show her what a desperate wreck you are.”

Wooyoung hiccups, shakily wiping his face as he meets your eyes. The thick tears spilling down his shiny cheeks are mesmerising, causing a warmth to brew underneath your exhaustion. The heat is further stoked by Yunho’s long fingers kneading into your own thighs, like he’s contemplating the thick softness of them pressed around his own cock.

“Tell her what you want, Wooyoung,” San demands, the bed shaking underneath as he speeds up.

“W-wanna cum, mhn, need to cum so bad—”

Another smack lands on his thigh and Wooyoung cries out, his back arching pitifully. San scoffs at his whines. “Is that all? Our girl choked on Yunho’s dick so she could watch you, and that’s how you thank her? Thinking only about yourself?”

Wooyoung makes a strangled noise as he shakes his head, unable to get a word out.

“C’mon, we both know how much you get off on slutting yourself out like this,” San presses, relentless. “You fucking love it, love how much she loves it. How good you look like this, a depraved, flushed mess. Fucking gorgeous.”

The sudden praise jolts through Wooyoung, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “Y-yeah, that’s what I want—” he slurs, his tongue thick in his mouth. His long hair is sweaty and sticks to his face, throwing a shadow over his eyes as he pins his gaze back on you. “Want you to see, want you to watch me cum please, please—”

“I’m watching, Wooyoungie,” you say. You’re filled with something not unlike awe as you drink in his desperation, his unconditional surrender as he loses himself in the search of pleasure. “Watching everything San’s doing to you. So pretty.”

Right as you say that word, pretty, San smacks Wooyoung’s flushed cock. He sobs wretchedly, convulsing as the sudden pain sparks through his crossed wires. The first globule of sticky whiteness already forms at the tip before San wraps his fist around the darkened cockhead, forcing Wooyoung into a violent release. He mewls and spasms, jerking against San’s hold — but San doesn’t let up until his own breath falters, breaking on a whiny moan as he spills over Wooyoung’s thighs and still-leaking cock.

San slowly lets Wooyoung’s shaky legs down, ankles sliding from his shoulder. He’s panting hard, a sharp glint in his eyes as he admires the mess on Wooyoung’s torso, who basks in the attention of three pairs of eyes on him.

He stares up at San with a blissed-out, empty-headed smile, “So good… made me feel so good…”

Fondly, San chuckles and cups Wooyoung’s cheek.“You haven’t had enough yet, have you?” he hums, rubbing his thumb over Wooyoung’s swollen lips. “Yunho’s been looking forward to having his turn with you.”

Wooyoung nips at San’s thumb and grabs his wrist, his dark eyes glittering at Yunho as he presses a kiss against the palm of San’s hand. Anticipation crackles in the heady air, Wooyoung’s hungry gaze answering San’s question loud and clear. Never enough.

There is a brief moment of shuffling as San and Yunho swap places, but Yunho kisses the side of your head before he goes. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t think I’m satisfied with just my fingers in that tight hole.”

Your stretched cunt clenches around nothing at the promise, but you’re not empty for long. As soon as Yunho leaves your side, San embraces you in the comfort of his strong, familiar arms.

“Come, let’s cuddle,” he mumbles, pulling you on top of him as he lays on his back.

You let San manoeuvre you to his liking, knowing better than to object against resting your weight on him. You snuggle up against San, savouring the low, content rumble in his exposed, sweaty chest.

Both of you are a bit sluggish, but San still nudges you to lift your hips before you can settle entirely. He wraps his hand around the base of his softened cock, and you moan quietly when he presses into your waiting cunt. “Fuck, Yunho opened you up real nice,” he groans at the easy slide. “So fucking wet, baby. Just keep me warm like that for a while, ‘lright?”

With a gentle hand he strokes your hair, and you relax into him with a sigh.

San’s heart beats underneath your cheek as you turn your head to see Yunho has half-helped, half-dragged Wooyoung to lay parallel to you and San. Now he slowly crawls over Wooyoung’s prone body, drawing whines from him with even the lightest touch. Wooyoung shudders when Yunho scoops up some of the white fluids on his heaving chest, then offers it to him. He sucks on Yunho’s fingers on pure instinct, not a single thought behind his dazed eyes.

Maybe Yunho had a point when he called you a pervert earlier; your inner voyeur purrs at the meals she’s being fed tonight.

But it’s a badge you wear proudly, indulging yourself without shame. Your hungry eyes take in the way Yunho’s tall form is hunched over Wooyoung. The stark difference in their height makes Wooyoung look small, helpless, moaning at every drop of his and San’s seed that Yunho feeds him. You lick your lips every time Yunho’s fingers slip back into Wooyoung’s mouth.

Meanwhile, San runs a warm hand up and down your spine. His fingertips leave gentle sparks wherever they go. “Woo looks good like this, doesn’t he?” he says, a grin in his voice. “Can’t wait to see if our babygirl really has what it takes to handle that big cock, or if it’s just empty bragging. Yunho’s not gonna take it easy on him.”

(Wooyoung whines a little louder, his hips canting up.)

Carefully, San squeezes the nape of your neck. “Yunho didn’t take it easy on you either,” he hums, his fingers brushing over the sensitive parts of your throat where Yunho choked you earlier. “You made such pretty sounds for him… Did you have fun, hm?”

San’s gentle voice envelopes you with warmth, though it’s hard to focus on his question when Yunho curls his long fingers over Wooyoung’s thighs, the shapely muscles glistening with lube and cum.

“Yeah,” you manage to sigh out with a dopey smile. “Thank you… for holding back for me.”

You rub your cheek against his firm pec in gratitude; and you can feel as well as hear San’s abashed chuckle.

“Thought you deserved a proper reward. Did your punishment so well, what a sweet girl you were for him,” he says proudly. His praise sends a twitch through your cunt, and he lets out another breathy laugh as you clench around his cock. “So easy to work you up…” he teases fondly.

You whine, but there’s no denying the fresh slick leaking against San’s pelvis. It really can’t be helped; not when San is praising you, when Yunho pushes Wooyoung’s knees up to his chest, folding him in half. He spreads Wooyoung’s asscheeks, a pleased glint in his eyes at what he finds.

“Prepped him for you, Yun-ah,” San says, his own hands mirroring Yunho’s as he grabs at your ass, his thumb grazing over your rim. He pecks your forehead sweetly, whispering “Your turn soon.”

“Fuck, San, you sure did, he’s fucking gaping,” Yunho groans, and he turns Wooyoung at just enough of an angle to show you his loosened hole, remnants of lube glistening between his cheeks. Arousal smoulders under your skin at the brief glimpse, inflamed further when Yunho slides his half-hard cock through the crack of Wooyoung’s ass.

“Please,” Wooyoung keens, hooking his arms underneath his knees to keep his legs in place while he squirms at Yunho’s fat cockhead catching on the edge. “Please just put it in, please please—”

Yunho giggles at his impatience. “Ah San, you really got lucky, getting your hands on a pair of such cute playthings,” he says, squeezing Wooyoung’s ass. “I haven’t even lubed up yet — you so eager you’d take it dry, Woo? Don’t think that’s smart, even for a trained cocksleeve like you. Be good and wait a little longer, ‘m gonna need a second to recover from your girl’s pretty mouth.”

“Y-yeah, I get that,” Wooyoung says tightly, glancing at you with watery eyes.

Yunho grins. “I bet you do. Does she suck your dick often?”

“Wooyoungie’d rather drown in her pussy, actually,” San interjects casually, giving you a buck of his hips. “If anyone’s fucking that tight throat, it’s usually me.”

You whine as you get jostled, clutching onto San’s shoulders. Light-headed at how they’re talking about you like you’re just some toy for them to play with, passed around for their pleasure.

Yunho bites his lip, grinding a little harder against Wooyoung. “At the same time?”

San lets out a pleased hum. “Sometimes, yeah,” he says, and tips your chin up with his thumb and forefinger to meet his grin. “Remember last weekend, baby? Looked so pretty sitting on Wooyoung’s face while I fucked yours. Fuck, you were so noisy… made such a mess on him…”

Your nerve-endings ignite with pleasure at San’s reminder; your garbled moans around San’s cock while Wooyoung sucked the juices from your leaking cunt, even his nose covered with the shine of your slick after you finally pulled him away. You’re so lost in a daze that you almost miss it when Yunho asks you a question.

Did you like it?

Yunho huffs a quiet laugh at your noise of disorientation. “Did you like it, baby?” he repeats, slower this time; with the charitable patience one might have for a pet that’s cute, but not all that smart. “When Wooyoung eats you out? Is he any good, sweetheart?”

Your eyes trail up Wooyoung’s body, noting the veins bulging in his flexed forearms, still dutifully holding his legs in place. When you reach his face, he is staring right back at you, mouth fallen open and his long hair in a mess, strewn on the bed, a few sweaty strands clinging to his neck.

“The best,” you sigh sweetly.

The ‘o’ of Wooyoung’s lips stretches into a wide, fucked out smile, moaning out a breathless giggle as he preens at your answer.

“High praise,” Yunho says with a teasing glint in his eyes. He grabs for the bottle of lube that San left on the bed earlier and pops the cap. “He must’ve got one hell of a silver tongue to have earned that.”

You can’t help a moan, your clit throbbing with memories of Wooyoung’s tongue flicking and suckling at you, dissolving you into a puddle.

“She likes his nose too,” San chuckles, adding more fuel to the fire. He steadily kneads at your ass, giving it the occasional smack just to admire the bounce of his hand and the jiggle of your cheeks. “Don’t you, baby?”

“F-fuck, so much,” you whine. “Feels s-so good, riding his face… Grinding on it…”

Wooyoung suddenly trembles and gasps while Yunho runs a glistening finger down that beautifully hooked slope of his nose. It only takes you a beat to realise his strong reaction is not just because of the downpouring of praise — Yunho has forced the tip of his cock past Wooyoung’s rim.

“Ah ah ah—!”

The sound is torn from Wooyoung’s throat as his body snaps taut. His legs almost drop to the side before Yunho grabs onto his thighs, large hands kneading into the tense muscles. “Fuck,” Yunho swears, jaw clenched. “Relax for me, Woo. I’ll take it slow but— fuck.”

Wooyoung pants with hard, huffy breaths, his eyes rolling back as he struggles to take the sudden intrusion. It’s subtle, but San’s hold on you tenses for a moment, until Wooyoung’s voice breaks with an obscenely loud moan, leaving no mistake that the tears springing in his eyes are the right kind.

San relaxes again, his soft amused laugh rumbling through his chest. “Time to see if our size queen has bitten off more than he can chew,” he says; a taunt mixed with genuine fascination. “…And time for us to move on too.”

Unable to look away, your eyes are glued to Wooyoung’s face, contorted with agonised pleasure, and the slow press of Yunho’s hips, giving Wooyoung time to adjust. The idea of taking Yunho in your cunt is already daunting enough, you can’t begin to comprehend the ways Wooyoung’s body is forced to stretch and yield to his outrageous size.

Utterly transfixed, you barely register how San grabs for the lube and slicks up his own fingers — but you’re snapped back into your own reality when his index finger circles your tight hole, and quickly presses in. You moan at the slight pressure on your walls; not uncomfortable but always a little odd at the start.

Meanwhile Yunho groans tightly, a thick vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding back. “Fuck, Sannie, you weren’t kidding about his recovery time,” he grinds out, a sharp curve to his lips. “I’m barely even inside him yet and he’s getting hard again already.”

Wooyoung whines pathetically, clawing at Yunho’s thighs like he’s trying to pull him in deeper.

“Please, hah mmh, please please,” he babbles, all coherent thoughts wiped from his mind. Yunho bends over him as he pushes deeper, and Wooyoung looks tiny underneath his tall frame, sobbing with delirious pleasure.

Lazily San fingers your ass open while you watch them together, his eyes big and shiny, gleaming with curiosity. Your body is pliant and relaxed for him, the thickness of two fingers a breeze in comparison. Awestruck, you witness how Yunho finally bottoms out.

Wooyoung hiccups as he tries to catch his breath, whimpering when Yunho wipes sweaty strands of hair out of his face.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Yunho murmurs, with none of his earlier faked sweetness. “What a champ. Not many who can take me like this, fucking incredible. Ready for me to fuck you, or do you need a moment?”

“M-move, please fuck please,” Wooyoung pleads. “Moving is better, please, hmgh—”

Slowly Yunho starts to move — and you can’t help but instinctively match his pace, squirming against San. His cock twitches in your warm cunt, almost back to full hardness already. He groans softly by your ear, smoothly pushing a third finger inside your other hole.

Soon, the noise of skin slapping against skin fills the bedroom every time Yunho buries himself to the hilt, lewdly harmonising with Wooyoung’s hitched moans. Yunho’s fingers dig harshly into his thighs to keep him in place, and you salivate at the thought of kissing Wooyoung’s resulting bruises later.

The harder Yunho fucks him, the more you hump into San, leaking around his cock. He bites down a whine, using his free hand to hold you steady. “Careful baby,” he says hoarsely, “I don’t know how many more I got in me. Let me save it for later, alright?”

Reluctantly you stop moving, targeting San with a small, needy pout instead.

He chuckles fondly, promising it’ll pay off later — but your further pouting is interrupted when Wooyoung’s moans suddenly rise in pitch.

Your eyes snap back to the others, where you see Yunho has hooked Wooyoung’s leg around his waist. This way, he’s given you full view of Wooyoung’s cock, flushed a deep dark red and oozing precum. Unintelligible curses and butchered gasps of Yunho’s name tumble clumsily off Wooyoung’s tongue, until no sound leaves his lips at all. His mouth is caught in a silent cry when Yunho bucks into him at an angle, and then again, his entire body shaking as watery strings of cum soil his stomach all over again.

Yunho only needs a few more thrusts himself before he doubles over with a loud grunt, moaning sweetly as he rides it out until he stills inside Wooyoung, hunched over his smaller form.

Burning gratitude coils in your abdomen when Yunho angles them again so you can see how Wooyoung’s hole is obscenely stretched around Yunho’s big cock. It leaves him gaping open when Yunho slowly pulls out, cum bubbling at the rim and leaking down onto the bed.

Wooyoung makes a weak noise at the emptiness, but Yunho wipes up the dribble of cum with his fingers and stuffs them back inside. Then he turns to San, wordlessly holding out his free hand.

You frown in confusion, but San seems to know exactly what Yunho is asking for. He reaches for something that’d been set aside unnoticed; and you bite your lip with a quiet moan when you realise he’s grabbed a thick buttplug. He hands it over to Yunho, who gives the toy a liberal coat of lube, then easily slides inside Wooyoung.

Wooyoung moans contently at the effortless fit, and barely fusses when Yunho helps him into a sitting position against the bed’s headboard. Wooyoung lets his head fall back, covered all over in the shine of sweat and other bodily fluids. He’s still breathing heavily, eyes lidded as he watches with exhausted interest how San guides you to get up as well, his cock sliding out of your cunt. And when San instructs you to sit on Wooyoung’s lap, you obey eagerly.

As you settle in Wooyoung’s lap, you make sure not to press your stomach against his dick. “You… that was… woah,” you sigh in admiration, gently combing your fingers through a tangle in his mussed up hair. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

He just gives you a breathless giggle, too fucked out for a verbal response — a rarity. The air between you is giddy, like you’re both high on the pleasure of having your bodies pushed to their limits. But he seeks out your pussy with his fingers, four of them effortlessly pressing inside. His own silent admiration of how Yunho stretched you out too.

You grin teasingly at Wooyoung’s ruined state, pressing a light peck on the tip of his nose. “You done for tonight? You kinda look like you might be done for tonight.”

“Fuck… definitely gonna need a minute,” Wooyoung groans, but you feel the smile on his lips when he tilts his head to catch you in a kiss. It’s a tired, heady meeting of lips, closer to an exchange of breath than an actual kiss, but you savour it all the same.

“Take your time, Wooyoung,” San assures him, interrupting the moment of affection to make sure you both drink something.

He grabs a bottle of water from the bedside table that he’d readied beforehand with liquids, a few snacks, wet wipes, all the usuals — but instead of handing you the bottle, San clasps your jaw, gently coercing your lips to part.

San pours a generous sip straight from the bottle into your mouth, careful not to spill. Your head buzzes at his tender yet forceful care, glowing with a syrupy warmth when he pats your cheek in approval after you swallow the water down.

He gives Wooyoung the same treatment, until he’s satisfied you both drank enough. He asks if either of you need anything else, and bursts into a flustered, dimpled laugh when the unanimous answer is “you finally taking the rest of those clothes off.”

He obliges, of course, shucking off his dress shirt with the ripped buttons and throwing it aside, soon followed by the rest. Tan skin and firm muscle, his cock still hard from earlier. San can’t help a tiny, flustered smile when you and Wooyoung lavish him with tired attention, nipping at the corded muscle of his shoulder, palming at the swell of his tits. Your hands bump into each other when you both reach for San’s cock, leading to another shared, giddy laugh.

You glance at Yunho, wondering if he is amenable to obliging you as well — and see he’s been discreetly cleaning himself up while San took care of you and Wooyoung. Yunho lets out a little embarrassed laugh when he realises you’re watching him wipe his softened dick. But you’re not laughing anymore, remembering his words from before.

“Don’t think I’m satisfied with just my fingers in that tight hole.”

You swallow tightly, biting your lip in anticipation.

Seeing your reaction, Yunho’s embarrassment quickly fades into a slow smile. Even without your asking, he treats you to the unhurried discarding of his clothes; not built like a brick wall the way San is, but fit and lean, moving his long limbs with a controlled grace that sparks a flutter in your stomach.

He crawls back onto the bed to join you and the others, and you hum a soft moan as his chest presses against your back, arms encircling your waist. Four fingers slip back inside you and Yunho gives them a careful wiggle, like he’s checking if you’re still ready for him.

You gasp at the tight press of Yunho’s fingers with their thick rings, your head falling back on his shoulder.

Just like that, the quiet lull in the bedroom dissipates, replaced by the wet squelch of Yunho slowly sliding his long fingers in and out of your sopping hole, coaxing your body to remember the stretch of them. A whine falls past your lips while San and Wooyoung watch in rapt attention, their eyes burning into you.

Wooyoung’s dark gaze is pinned on the heave of your chest as you gyrate in his lap, rolling your hips into Yunho’s hand, pushing back into his cock. Yunho surges forward with a groan, mouthing at your neck while he grinds against your ass. You whimper when Wooyoung bends forward to latch onto a pert nipple, licking thick, hot stripes as he laps at your tits.

San takes it all in with a light flush on his cheeks, unable to look away from your stuffed cunt. It’s obscene how easily Yunho’s fingers fit now, wet and slippery. “Fuck, Yunho, I bet you could fit your whole fist in there if we really took our time with her,” San groans softly, nothing but awe dripping from his voice.

You sob desperately at the idea, clenching around Yunho — but underneath the excitement, there is a weak jolt of anxiety. Your weeping cunt is burning, pushed to new limits, and suddenly every nerve ending in your body remembers; you had no say in what’d happen tonight, all power relinquished to San.

“Mh, I— I don’t— dunno if I can, ah, ah—!” you slur out, mewling when Wooyoung picks exactly this moment to suck harshly at your nipple. He whines happily as your hand flies to his hair, yanking at the black strands.

San’s hand joins yours to pull a squirmy Wooyoung away. “Breathe baby, deep breaths,” he says, sweetly kissing a fresh tearstreak on your cheek. “You don’t have to. Already doing so well, taking so much for us.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Yunho hums, rubbing his nose against your other cheek. He takes out his fingers and gives your slicked folds a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be careful with you. A pretty thing like you needs taking care of, don’t you? Gonna stuff you full, just the way you need. God, I can’t wait to feel you clench around my cock…”

You whimper, feeling hazy from their praise. Allowing you to slide back into that fuzzy safety of subspace, no thoughts of your own; Yunho and San know what’s best for you.

“T-then do it,” you moan. “Stuff me full, please.”

Yunho lets out a soft, delighted giggle at your eagerness. “We will, don’t you worry. San, lets see if your little troublemaker can get it back up again.”

The little troublemaker in question perks up, and then hisses when San reaches between you and Wooyoung to slick up his hand with your arousal before wrapping his fingers around Wooyoung’s worn-out cock. “F-fuck, Sannie,” he gasps, his body reflexively trying to jerk away, but pinned in place by you on his lap.

Yunho nuzzles your shoulder while he watches in approval how Wooyoung’s dick plumps back up. “Doing such a good job, San-ah…” he says with a pleased smile. “Look at you, almost can’t believe you’re the same guy as that timid rookie I took under my wing. You know just what your submissives need and always give it to them, don’t you? What a good boy you are.”

San whines at the praise, stroking Wooyoung a little faster. His eyes widen in surprise when Yunho clasps his chin, but he gladly melts into the offered kiss. It’s brief but intense, San’s tongue sucked into Yunho’s mouth, a thin trail of saliva connecting them when Yunho pulls away again, leaving San panting.

“Good boy,” Yunho smiles again, brushing his thumb over San’s flushed cheek. “Time for the next part.”

Yunho helps you to turn around, sitting reverse cowgirl on Wooyoung’s lap. Even in your dazed state, you quickly realise where this is going when San slicks up Wooyoung’s cock with a coat of lube. So you’re ready and relaxed when his cockhead prods between your asscheeks, lifting your hips to help San guide him inside, your jaw falling slack as you slowly lower yourself down.

Wooyoung groans a muffled swear against your shoulder once you’re fully seated on him, tightly circling his arms around your waist. Thankfully San prepped you well — but your nerves still momentarily spike back to life when Yunho bears down on you, swallowing your mouth in a deep kiss as he lines himself up. You whine against his lips, scrambling to grab onto something as his thick cock rubs through your sticky folds, then starts to push inside. One of your hands finds Wooyoung’s wrist, nails digging into his skin, while the other delves into Yunho’s hair.

Just by himself, Yunho would already be enough to overwhelm you; but buried alongside Wooyoung, their cocks pressing against each other through the thin barrier of your inner walls, you are drowning, completely overcome before he’s even fully sheathed inside you.

“Hngh, f-fuck, Yunho, hm can’t— too much, please—” you gasp out, but this time Yunho is less receptive to your pleas.

He tuts, unyielding. “This again? Sannie, what do you think?”

San cups your cheek, intently looking you over as you nuzzle pitifully into his palm — but when he speaks, his tone is cool and dismissive. “She’s fine.”

You sob weakly as Yunho sinks deeper, unyielding, but safe-wording is the farthest thing from your mind. Your head falls back against Wooyoung’s shoulder, mouth agape and spit dribbling down your chin. There is a bliss to being pushed like this, all control stripped away from you. Your cunt greedily sucks Yunho in, gushing around him, your body so wired you almost think you could cum just like this. Almost.

San observes you with feline curiosity, tilting his head as he seems to realise the same. “See, you like it,” he says smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Isn’t that right? No, no don’t be like that,” he teases when you let out a strangled moan. “You should tell them. Let them know, baby, say you like it.”

“L-like it…” you whimper, panting for breath when Yunho’s cock is finally nested inside your snug cunt, walls twitching around him. “Like having your cocks fill me up, feels so full…”

“Not full enough yet,” San says, quirking his eyebrows. “You got one hole left that needs to get stuffed. Hold her for me, Yunho.”

He shifts on the bed to reposition himself, and you don’t have time to process his words before Yunho’s large hand suddenly wraps around your throat again. It’s not tight enough to obstruct your airway, but your brain is instantly light-headed all the same, and you’re helpless to do anything except let him guide your mouth to San’s waiting cock.

With every inch of him going down your throat, you sink deeper into that fuzzy heat, your entire sense of self melting away until there is nothing left but that blissful pressure, filling you up from the inside. Static buzzes through you, and San grunts at how you moan gutturally around his cock

“You like this too, baby?” he asks with a mocking lilt, knowing damn well you can’t tell him.

But you still try your best, muffled moans escaping past his thick girth. You cry out louder when Wooyoung suddenly makes himself known again, angling for your attention by palming your chest. He plucks at your hard nipples, his teeth grazing against the nape of your neck as he lavishes you with open-mouthed kisses. His lips brush against the tips of Yunho’s fingers, who gives your throat a light squeeze, just to hear you whine.

Then, Yunho begins to move.

He starts off with slow, deep rolls of his hips, testing how he pushes you back on Wooyoung’s cock, how you almost gag around San. He bucks a little harder, and then you do gag, your throat convulsing around San’s fat cockhead, tears springing in your eyes.

Still mocking you, San coos at the sight. He brushes your tears away as they fall, but a low groan escapes him when he feels at your stuffed cheeks. You whimper, trying to curve your tongue around the vein on the underside of his cock — but Yunho fucks you harder now. Jostled by his rough thrusts, you’re forced to feel every inch of every cock that’s shoved inside your body, until you’re losing yourself in them, seizing up as wet heat pulses through your core, a dam bursting with delirious ecstasy, overloading your senses.

Their sweet moans fill your ears as you clench and spasm around them with intense release, low grunts and high whines, their arms holding you upright as the high passes through you, your body starting to sag.

It takes you a moment, still coming down to earth, to realise Wooyoung is clinging onto you desperately, his fingers digging into your sides. He whines and trembles, a faint buzzing reaching your ears. Confusion fights through your pleasure-addled brain — until you see the small remote in San’s hand, and a memory makes its way through of Yunho putting a buttplug in Wooyoung’s used hole. A vibrating plug, as it turns out.

“F-fuck,” Wooyoung grinds out, his sweat-slicked forehead pressed against your shoulder as his nails leave crescents in the soft meat of your waist. “I— I—”

“Gonna cum, Woo?” San asks, looking unimpressed, but the words come out tightly. He runs his hand through Wooyoung’s hair, forcing his head back. “Hold back, as long as you can. Understood?”

Wooyoung’s answer is nothing but a strangled sob, but it’s enough for San. He releases Wooyoung’s hair, cupping the back of your head instead, making sure he always stays good and deep in your mouth even while Yunho brutally fucks into you.

You’re burning, barely come down from your last orgasm when you feel the next one creeping up on you. Wooyoung is on the brink, San throbbing inside you, while Yunho never lets up on his punishing pace, a vein popped in his neck from the exertion of pistoning that obscenely big cock into your sopping cunt.

Sweat beads down Yunho’s temple, and a faint wish flits through your mind to suck at that bulging vein in his neck — but his hand is still firm around your throat while San uses it for his own pleasure, and the wish fades away.

“Touch her, Wooyoungie,” Yunho grunts. “Touch her clit. Wanna feel her cum again while we stuff her full.”

Wooyoung mewls weakly, but obeys with a shaky hand. The touch is directionless, weak swipes without clear purpose, but you’re on the edge in a second, not needing much at this point — and neither does San. His low moans choke up into a whine when you keen around him, sticky heat bursting on your tongue as he curses, almost doubling over. Wooyoung follows him in seconds, like San’s release was the permission he needed to finally let go, biting into your shoulder while he shudders and spills deep inside you.

Wooyoung pinches your clit just as Yunho hits right against that sweet spot, and you topple over again, toes curling, arching into him, a soundless cry reverberating around San’s cock as pleasure ripples through your body. Yunho swears hoarsely as you clamp down on him, pulling him over with you. It’s slightly weaker than the last one but the release lingers, quaking through you and elongated by every spurt of seed that the three men give you.

The buzzing of the buttplug stops in the wake of silence that follows, and San unceremoniously drops the remote onto the bed, his sweaty chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. Gently he frees your mouth, and you let out a weak cough at the sudden free pull of air. The lower half of your face is absolutely drenched with spittle and now, unable to swallow it all down, a trickle of cum leaks past the corner of your lips — just like it dribbles past Yunho and Wooyoung’s cocks, every hole leaking.

Wooyoung slumps against you, his arms still around your waist, and his weight forces you to slump into Yunho in turn. Yunho chuckles tiredly, helped by San to stay upright under your combined weights while they let you catch your breath. Pressed between their solid bodies, you can’t even tell whose hand runs over your arm, sighing contently. Exhausted to complete satisfaction.

Afterwards, San and Yunho both took a shower while you shared a long bath with Wooyoung; and now you’re bundled up in a soft bathrobe and San’s strong arms, curled up against him on the couch. He’s dozing off behind you, his chin nodding onto your shoulder, his drowsiness undeterred by the movie that’s playing on the TV.

(It’s Yunho’s favourite way to wind down after a long scene, so here you are, watching Into the Spider-Verse together.)

On the other end of the couch, Wooyoung is nestled comfortably between Yunho’s legs. The two of them frequently burst out into giggles, either from a joke in the movie or one shared between them. The atmosphere is easy, bright, all pieces slotted into place. You can’t help a smile, snuggling deeper against San, watching Yunho and Wooyoung’s antics, a simple thought settling warmly in your stomach as the four of you fit into this comfortable space together. This feels good.

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 1

I am not well versed in DC knowledge. I've read a bunch of the older comics but, honestly, these timelines are too confusing to say I have a firm grasp on what the fuck is happening at any given point.

Anyways, this is my story, I made a tumbler for it. I'll definitely upload again..

When the fly on the wall starts to spin webs of their own, can the bats catch on? Or will they be left to dangle in the web they've tangled?

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

You're hardly school aged when you wake in a strange place, vague memories of someone patting your head as you fall asleep. Then it was all blurry and you went from cold hard ground, suddenly, to a warm bed worth more than you've ever seen.

Laying still, staring up at the ceiling, you lay dazed until you hear the door starting to creak open. Quickly shutting your eyes you wait for the suspect to peak inside.

When his voice sounds, back on the other side of the door, you perk up, "Who's this? They're kinda cute." A boy, most likely a few years older than you.

When that deep, fear inducing voice reaches for you, you jump out of bed after it. "Apparently, my child." He couldn't possibly be talking about you, right?

You make your way silently to the creaked door. Peeping through to watch them. "Huh? What?? Like seriously???" Hands resting on his hips, a boy of black hair and lean physique gapes.

A tall man with a build as intimidating as his voice, "Yes, I've run a DNA test and everything." His large arms cross over his broad chest.

Mirroring the older man's stance, the boy questions, "So, who's the mom?"

"I'm still working on that.."

"Have you.. asked them?"

There's a heaviness lingering in the hall around them. "We don't know if they'll talk yet, not till they wake up." He doesn't like not having answers, clearly.

"Can they?"

Swinging the door open, you bark out at your own defense, "I knew how'd to talk!"

His shoulder shot up, face blossoming in embarrassment, "Oh, sorry." Sighing, he tries to appear nonchalant. "Well, heyyy.. kid.. My name's Dick.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he smiles, “Guess I'll be like, your, uh, big brother?"

Eyes widening, you step away from his grasp. Being in a strange place with strange people claiming to be your family was concerning. Even in your young mind, alarm bells rang loud and clear.

Like a light shining through your darkest times, his voice cut through the tension. “This may be all too much for,” A man, much older than either, rests his hand on your back, “the newly young master Wayne.” He ushers you gently back into the room. All gentle pats and kind smiles as he insists on you resting.

You never spoke about who or where you came from. It hurts to try, to think of the cold, the dark, the pain, the fear. Push out all the bad. Make it just go away. You just wanted it to go away. Wanted to take every memory of before and lock it up, never to be found. So, that's what you did, burying every painful memory. After some time, your young mind turned repression into suppression. Now, left with only bits and pieces, you couldn't remember even if you wanted to.

So, you’ll need to fill in the emptiness with this fresh start.

Life in the Wayne house started off joyfully. You found serenity in the solitude of the manor, disconnected from the rest of Gotham. When Alfred wasn't pushing tedious homeschooling work, you explored the massive house you'd be calling home. The quietude of empty ballrooms, winding halls and stodgy gardens was your respite. While it wasn't a place made for children, you felt at peace for the first time. The perfect home for a ghost with plenty of walls for flies and flowers alike.

Coming from unknown origins with no paperwork to speak of left you in a peculiar predicament. As a child was low grasp on the passage of time, you couldn't exactly say how old you were. Let alone when your birth date was. No one has ever bothered to tell you and if they have you certainly weren't going to remember. Infact, at Alfreds insists on a celebration, he comes to find you've never truly experienced a birthday of any kind. He had to correct this at once, give you a proper one with cake, singing and presents. It makes him wonder what sort of childhood you've been plucked from.

“Well, young master.” Alfred takes your hands as you climb the step stool next to him, “It's been a year now since you've joined us at the manor.”

Your hands slap onto the counter when you finally reach it. “Yeah, I like it.” Smiling wide up at the old butler, you babble on, “everything is so big and warm and it smells nice and I like when you cook and I wanna cook too and-” Alfred hushes your ramblings with a hand on your head.

“Yes, that's lovely, my child.” The other hand opens a draw nearby. “And that's what we'll be doing today.”

You tilt your head as the hand on it brushes over it and falls away, “Cooking?” Craning your neck, you try to peek at the cards he flips through.

“Well, baking, but yes.” He confirms, offering you a smile that's warm and sweet like his cookies, “Today was the day you joined the family, it's as good a day as any for a party.”

Your eyes light up, “A party for what?”

“Your birthday, my dear.” He chuckles softly at your look of awe,“Today will be your birthday, and every year I shall make you a cake.”

“Woah, every year?” You gasp as he hafs you the small stack of cards, each a handwritten cake recipe. While you can't read them yet, there are pictures of each cake pasted alongside the words. “That's a lot of cakes.. Can I help?”

“Whichever you like most we'll bake.” You're quick to pick one, waving the card around frantically, “I would be honored to have your help as well, young master.”

Alfred got to work with measurements, letting you pour everything into the bowls. He shows you how to mix, guiding you hand over hand when you struggle. You can't help spilling half of you what you're given, covering the counters. Sliding the pan batter into the oven, Alfred has you assist by wiping away your mess.

As he begins readying ingredients for frosting you ask, “Are those guys gonna join us?”

You're too busy scrubbing batter from your stool to see the way he deflates. “Unfortunately, your father and brother are tied up in something.” He sighs, taking the rag and finishing your job. With a sullen smile he hands you a measuring cup of sugar, “Perhaps next year.”

The night is spent merrily celebrating. When it cools Alfred frosts and decorates your cake. He places a number of candles, It's the first of many birthdays spent with just you and Alfred.

The next years were your first time in true schooling, a prestigious boarding school to boot. You couldn't remember seeing so many other children before. The eyes you received from strangers when given your new last name made your skin crawl. Deciding to forgo it in most encounters. Yet, for some reason to a great number of your fellow classmates, that fact seemed to matter greatly. If you met someone who insisted or withheld their friendship without, then you'd simply roll your eyes, never speaking to them.

You decided friends weren't important, instead making it your goal to not just succeed but to exceed. If this was your shot of a real family, you wanted to show them you were something capable. Worthy. You were hopeful, determined in getting close.

Only to be pushed aside at every opportunity.

“I got’ perfect score!” The words burst from you with such excitement you're bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Bruce doesn't even bother to look at the paper you're frantically waving at him. Simply mumbling as he places his mug in the sink, “Very nice.” Before turning to Dick, “Come on, son. It's time to go.” You thought maybe this was how a father was supposed to be. Cold, distant and hardly ever around for someone so small.

Alfred steps up from behind your slumped form. Plucking the paper from your dejected gaze. He hums softly before you hear a rap on the fridge beside you. “Wonderful job young master.” You smile for him as he pats your head. Happy to have at least someone’s acknowledgement.

From what your classmates say, a big brother will either pick on you or support you. Soon you came to find that living with Dick Grayson didn't guarantee you any of his time. Good or bad.

So, despite the terror that being center stage fills you with, you entered your school's spelling bee. The thought that maybe you could possibly impress them gave you just enough nerve.

“Hey, um, Dickie...” When you catch his sleeve, your teeth skin into your cheeks. He peeks over his shoulder at you, “Here, it's a competition.”

His nose wrinkles slightly before he smiles. “Spelling bee?” Not a real smile, you don't get those. It's a empty, meaningless thing that hardly lifts his lips.

“If you're not busy.” You clasp your fingers together, steeling your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.” It’s thinly masked disgust if anything.

Time came to discuss bringing you into the public eye, an official declaration of your relationship with the Wayne's. Just the thought of it was unsettling, like placing a target on your back. The last place you want to be is the spot light.

“I don't wanna go. I won't go.” It was then in that moment, when the words left your lips, you could see it in his eyes.

A wave of relief Dick couldn't quite stifle, lip touching at the corner before turning to Bruce, “Maybe they're just scared of all those new people. With everyone looking at them, seeing them as your..” That uptick in his features falters slightly, “first child, technically.” Back then, you thought he cared. That this was actually for your protection. “It's a lot of pressure, maybe it would be better. For them, to stay safe.”

Bruce crosses his arms, examining his older child before looking back to the younger. “You have a point there, Dick.” You've twisted your fingers into Alfreds pant leg, half hidden behind him. “Fine. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. It might even be for the better.” Neither of them wanted you there, thinly veiled behind words of care, never quit saying it.

Not once then did you realize. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say, nothing you could show for. Nothing to make them see you, the real you. You couldn't provide them with anything, that made you useless.

“Very well, Master Bruce.” With a sigh, Alfred guides you away as the two leave. He was always the one in your corner. Before you even know this life would be a battle.

This give on the topic began your gradual slope into obscurity. In the hectic years of adolescence, you'd come to the conclusion that private schools are for snobs. You manage to convince the old butler, with baked goods, to allow a change of schools. Not wanting to slow your studies yet overwhelmed by your known family reputation. Public school seemed viable, no one had to know who you really were. There seemed to be no object, or real acknowledgment of this decision.

You used to believe, despite how they act, this was it, this would be your family and you could be happy. Surely, you thought, it's because you're new to them. It must be hard to connect, you found it quite difficult yourself.

So, you decided, you'll just need to put in more effort. Show them that there is something that you and they can do together. You took up everything you Alfred offered to teach you when he was around. You learned to cook, sew and clean the whole manor faster than the master butler himself.

Of course, he had other priorities, not just as your caretaker. Try as he might to keep you at the top of that list, he still has duties to attend. So, you would take your days, even weeks, alone with stride. A good time to build your skills on your own, finding new ways to utilize them. Hoping for something, anything, to bridge the gap with your new family.

“I'll be home late today, Al.” While you had gotten away from uptight private schooling, Alfred still set into a well funded school.

He gives a light chuckle of disbelief over the phone, “You have plans, young master?” Pinching the device between your shoulder and ear, you fumble through your first ever locker.

“It's just a club, I'll still need you to pick me up after.” With all your free time, you thought you'd use more of your growing skills.

“At your service my dear.”

You took time to catch on, years of peeling away from the background. Picking and pulling apart from the inside out, finding something that could peak their interest. Hoping to think twice, even once to turn their heads back to the lone manner.

That's how you found them, their secrets; and the life that pulled them as taunt in one direction as the other did. Digging for a way that you could connect from beyond the twice eye catching lives they live day and night. You were piled with reasoning when you found that special place in the library they all seemed to love. The idea of passing the security felt out of reach at the time.

Walking along the dark water line, looking out to the misty sky. You don't wish for misfortune, but you wait. When that light flickers on and that familiar symbol reflects on the dark Gotham clouds, your breath catches. Ducking alonge the rocky cliff wall by the large alcove, you listen to the rumble. You brace yourself as something in the shallow cave opens, the rumble growing.

Then you have your answer. The Batmobile comes billowing out of the cave, in its wake you hide. Long after its departure from the property, you emerge from your hiding spot. Slipping through the closing doors and wandering down into the bat cave.

Despite how they see through you most times, you're sure Alfred knows when you sneak in. So, appreciating this to be Alfred throwing his hand up and hiding his eyes for your sake.

It's awe inspiring to say the least, especially knowing you live above it every day. It felt like peeking through the lives of strangers and you couldn't look away. You don't know why he kept it from you but you didn't want to be shut out for knowing. Yet, you couldn't satiate your curiosity with just this visit.

You had told Alfred you had a meeting after a club and that you would be home late. For some strange reason he promised Dick would pick you up.

Water splashes up from a speeding tire as you walk along the misty Gotham streets, “Aw man, come on!” Of course Dick didn't show! Why would he? When has he ever?

Now, in this situation, Alfred would wish for you to call him for assistance.

“Over there! Look, look!” Across the intersection a pair gasps and squeals, fingers pointed up at the Boy Wonder. The last thing on his mind as he leapt through the night sky, was an unwanted sister.

If only Alfead could get everything he's ever wished for, but you're not a fairy.

Following gunshot and bangs you skirt around chaos, nearly avoiding an obvious outbreak of costumed thugs. You watch in ired fascination as they beat down each threat thoroughly. As the moon starts to sit lower again and the bad guys are carted away, you realize how long you've been gone.

You arrive at the gates in tune to be blown past by the Batmobile. Inside, Alfred gives you a look as if he knows every secret you've even kept. Thankfully he doesn't say a word, You're out of your damp clothes by the time the dynamic duo ascend to the manor.

For people of the shadows, they never could seem to see you creeping through them.

It's through this that you managed to learn about Barbra Gordon. The commissioner's daughter was someone you could only catch glimpses of from time to time. It was rare for you to catch her attention. Much too preoccupied with her work for the Bat, your father.

The batgirl's skill inspired your own delve into tech. Hacking, coding and even trying your hand at tinkering with new devices. Creations that you've jerry-rigged and hoped against hope that she would even glance at.

She's coming over today, you overheard dick say so. You've poked your head over the banister as you wait to spot the red head. Yet, once she's there, you freeze. Dick and Barbara push through the front doors together. Light rain chasing them inside from the sturing storm. Their foot falls followed by light laughter and easy chitchat. If only it was so easy for you.

You watch as your brother scurries off, promising to grab a towel. This is your shot. “Oh, um!” Words are coming from you before you even know what to say. Stumbling over yourself, you bumble over, haltung in front of her. “B-Barbra?”

“Huh, who?” At the ruckus you've made, she whips around. Head on a swivel 'till green eyes locking on you. “Oh! It's you.. uh..” looking you up and down she stumbles as well.

You have to give her your name, again.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Barbra looks off sheepishly, carting a hand through her hair. Hand flicking droplets from the ginger ringlets.

“It's okay..” that's alright, that's normal Even. You don't see each other all that often.. even though you remembered her name just fine. “I just want to ask you about some-” Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, she cuts you off before you can pull out what you want to share with her.

“I've actually got to-” Her mouth snaps shut before she thinks better of words, “Well, um, talk with Bruce.” She finishes with an awkward chuckle and mumbled “Y'know how it is. Always something with the Wayne's.”

No, “Yeah..” You didn't know.

You've never shared more than a last name with the Wayne's.

Patting your head she smiles, “Sorry again, hun. Maybe later?” turning away down the hall Dick had disappeared to. Even to the all seeing eye you were nothing but a mere fly on the wall.

Gothams streets were dark, dangerous, and the only place you could see them for more than a minute. You loved nights like this, when you could slip from the manor. Undetected by the inattentive gazes that should have kept a preteen like you home.

With this habit of bird watching, you found yourself looking more into your subpar self defense. Living in Gotham has given you a natural caution but all too often you've wound up in tight situations. All because you couldn't keep your eyes off them. Maybe if you show them you could do that, fight back, they might see you.

You put yourself out there over and over, “Uh, d-dad?” Alfred insisted you call him that, but it never felt right, “I've been doing, um, I have this..” taking a breath you force it out, “It's martial arts, could you come see me?”

Another paper half glance at before the typical, “I'll see what I can do.”

Apparently, there are some things even Batman can't do.

“H-hey.. I, uh, am doing..” You pull out the flier for your competition. inspecting it over before looking to see him. Half-heartedly glancing up from his comic, Dick gives you a once over before continuing to read, “Gymnastics.”

Finally his eyes hold yours when the word shoots from your mouth. For a second you think this is it. This is when you’ll finally have his attention. Finally make that long awaited connection with your big brother. “I'll see, why don't you ask Bruce?” Dick lays the paper on the living room table in front of him.

“I did... he said the same thing.”

The paper is still there when you come back later.

[shina913]

A Very Patient Man | LJH

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: F2L; FWB; smut; pwp

Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; PIV sex; riding; ass smacking; dirty talk; creampie

Word count: 4.6k words

Summary: You’re frustrated because it takes you longer to reach an orgasm during sex. This has made you feel insecure, and you started to accept the fact you’d never meet someone patient enough to give you the attention you need. Your friend, Jihoon, casually offers a solution.

A/N: Idk. I slipped and fell onto my keyboard and all this horny word vomit spilled out. Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs 🤣

This is also un-beta'd so...it is what it is.

Anyway! Here’s something filthy to end the year! 💜

It started innocently enough at Jihoon’s studio. You were sitting on his couch, venting about your dating life, and as always, he listened attentively just as you do when he shares his own experiences.

However, today’s visit was different. He’s letting you ramble on about a very specific topic.

“I feel like there’s an invisible time limit on foreplay.”

Jihoon’s chair creaks as he leans back, laughing at your incredulous claim. “No, there isn’t!”

“But I really think there is!” you argue. “My last date got visibly impatient, even though I...” you inhale through your teeth, “clearly asked him for more time down there. Instead, he just said, ‘It’s been five minutes, it’s my turn now.’” You huff in annoyance.

“Well, that sucks. Did you get rid of him?”

You grimace before replying. “Please don’t judge me. He was cute, so we still fucked. My vibrator finished the job,” you admit guiltily. “I blocked him on the app afterward though.”

He sighs, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “You shouldn’t compromise on your needs. If you want more time, say so and stick with it.”

You huffed wistfully. “I just take too long. I get all panicky when someone’s been down there for longer than 5 minutes.”

“You can’t rush pleasure,” he comments.

“I know that, but now, it makes me think—how long is too long before you come? Is there a play clock winding down on the field? Do I need to call out an audible?”

He doubles over again, laughing when you start using sports metaphors.

“How can some women summon an orgasm—” you snap your fingers, “just like that?”

His laughs subside, turning more serious now. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to other people. Everybody’s different.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” you remark sarcastically.

He turns away to face his screen, adding more edits to a track he’s working on.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, shrugging in defeat. “I guess my vibrator and I are destined to spend the rest of our lives together. Might as well reserve matching burial plots.”

Jihoon snorts. “You just haven’t found the right partner. A really patient one, I might add,” he says, half-joking.

You smack him on his bicep, and your hand stings from the unexpected firmness under his oversized shirt. Has his arm always been this solid? When was the last time you touched his bicep? Wait—why are you even thinking of his bicep?

You and Jihoon have been close friends since college, maintaining a purely platonic relationship—never a hint of romance or sexual tension between you. On rare nights out, you even act as each other’s wingman, helping one another find potential dates. You two simply click on a different level—easy and no complications.

He looked up from his mixing board, turning to you with a slight smirk. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I happen to be very patient.”

The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. It was the kind of tone he used when chatting up potential conquests on your nights out.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t you dare use that Joey Tribbiani move on me.”

“It’s not a move.” He keeps his face serious, looking genuinely hurt by your comment. “You’re my friend. I wouldn’t do that to you,” he says softly. “I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to try, I’m game.” He tilts his head, giving a casual shrug. “No judgment.”

You stare at him, stunned, as his offer hangs in the air. You try to laugh it off, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

Was he seriously proposing that you two—nope! You refuse to go there. Jihoon is a great friend, and although you trust him, you’re not sure you’d be comfortable with the idea of...

You shake your head. You can’t even finish the thought. You glance at your watch for no reason at all.

“You know, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh? I thought you wanted to grab dinner?” He’s surprised and confused at your sudden change of plans.

“It’s getting late.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t that late. You feel guilty lying to your friend, but you need to escape this conversation—and this situation—as quickly as possible.

“I just got a notification from work. I need to come in early, yada-yada…You know how it is.”

He looks disappointed but doesn’t push. You gather your things, slipping your puffer jacket on, despite the room feeling several degrees warmer.

“Alright. If you’re sure—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. That came out more tersely than you initially intended. “I’m sure,” you add with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes to try and make up for it.

He rises from his seat when you do and moves in for a hug—just like he usually does. But this time, the hug feels different; you’re suddenly hyperaware of his touch, your skin tingling all over. You return his hug stiffly, without your usual warmth, then hurry out of his studio and immediately tear off your too-hot jacket.

That night, your dreams were filled with visions—his hands tracing paths across your skin, his dark head dipping between your thighs, his intense gaze meeting yours as you hovered on the edge of unbridled pleasure. The dream felt so vivid you could have sworn you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. It wasn’t until your alarm began blaring, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat, that reality came crashing back.

********************************************

A couple of days passed, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Jihoon. This wasn’t your usual “hope he remembered to eat lunch” thoughts or impulse to send him funny memes that popped up on your algorithm.

After your NSFW dream about him, you started noticing little things about him you’d never paid attention to before—the adorable way he’d scrunch up his nose while concentrating on work, how his muscles moved when he reached for something, or how the warm red studio lights perfectly highlighted his features.

You shake your head. It’s not that deep. Jihoon’s suggestion was only practical. There’s no reason to go down this rabbit hole.

Still, you can’t deny the growing curiosity gnawing at the back of your mind. You hadn’t expected his offer to affect you this way, but it does.

After days of avoiding him, you decide to invite him to dinner at your place. Maybe if you discussed this with him, the dreams and inappropriate thoughts would stop.

The moment he walks through your door, everything falls apart. You become hyper-aware of his every move. You catch yourself stealing glances when you think he isn’t looking, and you flinch whenever he gets too close.

Finally, he’s had enough.

“Okay,” he says firmly. “What’s with you? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” you lie, your heart racing. You reach for your drink and take a hefty gulp.

“Have I said or done something? You’ve flaked on me the last couple of times I asked you to go out, you’ve left me on ‘read’ more than you’ve responded...”

You felt guilty for avoiding him, but you needed that space to sort out your thoughts. Though you wanted to have this conversation, you couldn’t find the right moment to broach the topic.

“Then you invite me over, barely talk—” he continues to rant.

“It’s... it’s really more of a me-problem,” you stammer.

“Just talk to me! I can take it.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

You inwardly groan, before finally coming clean. “Remember the last time we were at your studio? I was whining about...something.”

He squinted for a bit, then you could see the recognition slowly dawning in his eyes before lowering his voice. “You mean, how you take a long time to reach an orgasm?”

You shut your eyes, mortified when he articulates it. “Yes…”

“What about it?”

“It’s not exactly about that, but it’s more about what you said after. You know—your offer to help?”

His face visibly relaxes, prompting you to continue. “Okay.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, but you push through. “Did you mean it, or were you just messing with me?”

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head, the corner of his lips quirking up. “The offer still stands, if you want it.”

You sit there chewing the inside of your cheek, feeling torn. Your brain tells you to be careful—fucking your best friend could make things weird. But your body has other ideas. The warmth pooling between your legs makes it harder to think straight.

“Are you considering it?” His voice is gentle, giving you space to choose.

You deflect, buying time to sort through your tumbling thoughts. “I’m curious... have you thought about this before? About us?”

“The idea has crossed my mind from time to time.”

His candor sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“What about you? Have you thought about us...doing things?”

You draw in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be equally honest. “I never thought of us that way before you mentioned it. But now...” you trail off, unable to verbalize how his suggestion has shifted something between you.

He inches closer, but maintains enough distance to keep you comfortable. His expression grows serious, earnest. “Listen, I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. You’re one of my best friends, and that matters more to me than anything else. If I’m out of line, just say the word and we won’t talk about it ever again.” The sincerity in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart ache. You’ve always known him to be considerate of your feelings.

“You weren’t out of line.” Hearing you say this was a huge relief to him. “But you can’t really un-ring that bell,” you add wryly.

You also couldn’t get past an earlier comment he made. “So…you’ve thought about us before?”

He takes a moment before answering. “Yeah. I mean, you’re beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you?”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment.

Your best friend has always had this effortless way about him—you’ve seen firsthand how easily he charms people during your nights out together.

Your resolve crumbles, and honestly, you’re tired of fighting it. “How are you so chill about all this?”

He laughs. “It’s sex, not rocket science.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Things won’t get weird afterward, will they?”

“Afterward? So...you’re saying you want to have sex? With me?” His eyebrows raise slightly.

You already knew the answer to that question the moment you asked him to come over. “I guess I do,” you say softly with a nervous smile, “for science?”

His sexy, throaty laugh echoes through the room.

********

You sit nervously on your couch facing each other. Since this is completely new territory for both of you, you know you need to take things slow and make sure you’re both comfortable. Gathering up the courage to agree to this experiment is the easy part, but actually getting into it?

“Just to be clear—this is a one-time thing, right?”

“Of course,” he confirms. “This is purely for educational purposes. And your pleasure.”

You scrunch your nose in protest. “That doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.” The idea of him seeing this as one-sided doesn’t sit right with you. “Shouldn’t this be mutually beneficial?”

“I never said I had to get something out of this. You want to experience an orgasm from foreplay alone, without mechanical assistance, right?”

You nod.

“Okay. So, let me focus on making that happen for you. You don’t need to think about anything else.”

You didn’t want to be selfish, but his offer was difficult to refuse.

“This is about you, not me,” he insists. His decision is firm and he wasn’t budging.

“Okay,” you relent. Fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt, you take in a deep breath and release it before muttering, “How should we do this...”

When Jihoon doesn’t immediately offer any suggestions, you think of the most natural way to start.

“Maybe we could start with kissing?”

“Right, good idea.” His voice wavers slightly, betraying that he’s just as nervous as you are despite his attempts to stay composed. Oddly, this puts you at ease—knowing you’re both on the same page, figuring this out as you go.

You both move in closer together, and time seems to slow as he leans in. Your eyes flutter shut, then his lips meet yours. They’re exactly as you’d imagined—soft, warm, and unexpectedly gentle. The kiss starts tentatively, but as your lips find their rhythm, everything feels natural.

When you break apart for a moment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re a good kisser.” You barely finish the sentence before being drawn back to his lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against your lips as you both laugh, the sounds melting into your kisses.

Your kisses grow more intense, your mouth sucking on his top lip while his tongue traces delicately along yours, building a warmth that spreads through your entire body. You fist at his shirt, bunching the fabric between your knuckles, while his hand cradles your neck, his thumb gently stroking along your pulse point.

Gradually, his kisses move from your lips, following a path along the curve of your jawline, down to the slope of your neck. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation.

He instantly pulls back, a worried look on his face. “Sorry, are you not into that?”

“No, no—I mean—Yes, I am into it. I’m just a little bit ticklish there, that’s all,” you explain.

“Oh... okay. Do you want to keep going?”

You nod, and as he leans in for another kiss but pauses when you place a hand on his chest. “You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this because we’ve been friends for so long, but I have to admit that I like it.”

“Yeah?” A smirk plays across his lips. “Tell me what else you like.” He nips at your jawline. “Or show me.”

Desire spreads through you like wildfire. This was the point of no return. You take his hands and guide them under your shirt until they cup your breasts.

“What do you want me to do?” He murmurs through your lips.

“Play with them.”

His lips capture yours again as he squeezes your breast gently.

He eases you down onto the couch, his lips trailing from yours down your neck to your sternum. When he lifts your shirt to your chest, you feel constrained and pull it off completely, tossing it aside. He follows your lead, removing his own shirt.

His skilled fingers unhook your bra and takes a nipple into his mouth while his thumb teases the other, drawing a sharp breath from you.

You run your fingers through his hair as his kisses trace down your stomach, making your back arch at the sensation against your skin.

His hands glide down your sides until they reach your jeans, where he carefully undoes the button. You hook your fingers into your waistband and start pushing your bottoms down. He helps slide them off, his touch remaining gentle but with a hint of urgency as he pulls the fabric from your legs. As the last piece of clothing falls away, the cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shiver.

One of his hands pushed between your legs, making them fall open shamelessly. His other hand continued to massage your breasts, making them unbearably sensitive. You can’t believe how slick you’d gotten in a short span of time. To think he hadn’t done much to you yet, apart from kissing you and squeezing your tits.

His gaze traveled down your body, lingering where his fingertips teased your sensitive folds. His feather-light touches made your inner walls clench with need. This only heightened your arousal, making you squirm beneath him, silently begging for more.

He slid one finger carefully into you. Your eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by your friend, kneeling on the floor beside you. “Don’t think…just feel.” You keened as Jihoon pulled out and thrust gently back into you with two fingers. You couldn’t hold back a moan.

It’s probably been a few minutes now, you’re not sure as you’ve completely lost track of time. You blink furiously in a mild panic and stare down at him, still leisurely finger-fucking you. What he was doing felt so good, but you weren’t even halfway to your peak yet. By this point, other partners would be coming up for air, wanting you to return the favor or just ready to stick their cock in to get their fill.

“Relax...” he cooed, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh. Each deliberate dip and languid curl of his skilled fingers inside you made you wetter, gradually coaxing your muscles to yield. “It’s not a race,” he reassured you softly, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll keep going until you come.”

His words of encouragement sent waves of arousal coursing through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Kiss me,” you choked out desperately, needing to feel his lips against yours. Without hesitation, he obliged, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep kiss that made you dizzy.

Your fingers clutched desperately at the edges of your cushions, knuckles turning white from your grip as you felt that familiar sensation between your legs. “Right there. Don’t stop,” you gasped between heavy breaths, your hips bucking against his steadily thrusting fingers. The pleasure was building to an unbearable level, making you feel like you might shatter to pieces if he didn’t push you over the edge soon.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things—words you’d never heard him say to you. They revealed previously unspoken fantasies that ignited your body and overwhelmed your senses. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, wondering if this was his usual bedroom talk. But that thought slipped away as his words and actions consumed you completely. Before you realized it, you were peaking.

“I want to see what you look like when you come,” he purred. “Do you look as pretty as you do right now?” Everything tightened in your core while he kept up his ministrations in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming…”

“Don’t hold back. Let me hear you,” he urged.

You let out a strangled cry, your mind far beyond the depths of euphoria to care about being quiet or demure about this. He was mesmerized, unable to look away at the sheer pleasure that washed over you. Before you could even process what just happened, he’d already hooked your leg over the back of the couch and covered your cleft with his mouth.

He stroked your clit with his tongue, fluttering over it, building your hunger back up again. He teased your slick folds, taunting you with the promise of another orgasm—something you thought impossible to achieve so soon, yet your body responded eagerly. When his fingers pushed inside you at the same time, you had to bite your lip to stifle a scream.

You came again, your thighs trembling, tender muscles pulsing around his touch. His growl vibrated through you. You didn’t have the strength to push him away when he returned to your clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…but now you wanted more. You needed to feel him.

You manage to sit up and squeeze his shoulder to get his attention. He peers up at you from between your thighs.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Already?” He smiles, teasing you with painfully slow strokes of his fingers. “Pretty sure I can get another one out of you,” he says cockily.

“Lee Jihoon—I. Am asking you. To fuck. Me,” you punctuated. “Will you do it or not?”

He sits up, turning sheepish all of a sudden. “I, uhm…didn’t expect us to be doing this, so I didn’t bring any condoms.”

It’s not like he was some random guy. Although you appreciated his caution, you just wanted him inside you. “I trust you,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to him.

After he settles on the couch, you shift unsteadily to straddle his hips, pressing your bodies together. Reaching between you, you fumble with his jeans until he helps, lifting his hips in a fluid motion to pull them down just enough to free himself. Bracing yourself, you let him guide you as you slowly sink down onto him. Your lips part with an involuntary sigh that turns into a soft moan as he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

When you begin to roll your hips, the friction sends sparks of pleasure through your core.

“Fuck, your pussy feels good,” he breathes out roughly, his fingers digging into your hips before worry suddenly crosses his face. His cheeks flush as he stammers, “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

You giggle at his compliment, causing your muscles to clamp around his length. “I’m not mad at it,” you reassure him. “You make me feel really good, too.”

“Yeah?” His brow quirks. “You like when I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you moan, dipping your head to his lips in another kiss as you find your rhythm together.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer as you rock against him with increasing urgency. Before this, you’ve resigned yourself to never experiencing an orgasm from penetrative sex, and yet here was another brewing and there was nothing you could do but let it happen.

You gasp as his hand makes sudden contact with your ass, the unexpected sting making you freeze in place. You stare at him dumbfounded.

“What are you going to do about it?” he challenges. Before you can answer, his hand comes down again with another firm smack that rings through the room. “What?” The sound of provocation in his voice makes your pulse quicken.

You hover over him, eyes narrowing as you lean closer. Through gritted teeth, your voice emerges as a heated whisper. “Harder.”

“I thought so.” He smiles slyly before your lips crash in a fierce kiss that leaves you both breathless.

With a firm grip, he holds your hips still as he thrusts into you with deliberate, measured strokes. You clutch at him, the rhythmic sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Jihoon buries his face between your breasts, his rough groans reverberating against your flesh.

You whine helplessly, overwhelmed by the building pressure as the familiar coil of tension in your belly winds impossibly tight. Your thighs burn as you teeter on the edge of release.

“Yes...d-don’t...stop...hm...so close,” you pant.

He slows his movements to an agonizing pace, drawing out each thrust to drive you insane. He pulls out completely before sinking back into you with one deep thrust that makes you see stars. Your jaw drops, unintelligible sounds tumbling out your mouth as you come hard.

You hold onto him for dear life, your nails leaving a trail of crescent marks on his skin as he picks up the pace once again, his own rhythm becoming more erratic as he chases his own orgasm. A deep groan rumbles from his chest as your walls pulse and clench around him.

“I’m close,” he warns, his usually calm and collected face now twisted with agonizing need.

“Don’t pull out,” you manage to choke out between strained, ragged breaths.

“You…s-sure…?”

You nod eagerly. With your permission, he thrusts deeper and harder, making your neck loll in ecstasy. He draws you back into a rough, hungry kiss that muffles your shared moans as he reaches the end of his rope, his hips jerking against yours while he spurts inside.

Pressing your sweat-slicked forehead against his, you wait for your heart rate to return to normal. There’s no doubt in your mind—no previous partner could compare to Jihoon.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sigh. “We’ve been missing out all this time.”

He laughs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “It was worth the wait though!”

********

After a quick shower and a necessary trip to the pharmacy down the block, you and Jihoon return to your apartment with bags of late-night snacks. All that sexual activity had certainly worked up an appetite, and you found yourself craving something sweet. An ice cream waffle cone hit the spot for you.

“Are you okay?”

You smile, endeared at his worrying. “You know, you’ve asked me that same question multiple times now, and I’ll keep giving you the same answer—I’m fine. Great, actually!”

“I know, I know,” he responds sheepishly. “I just hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

“Trust me, I don’t feel awkward about any of this at all,” you respond with complete sincerity before facing him to find out if he felt the same way you did. “Do you?”

He shakes his head, tilting the bag of Skittles into his mouth. “Nope,” he answers between chews. “To be honest, I thought that was fucking mind-blowing!”

You inhale sharply at his candid comment, nodding in agreement. “Same. Absolutely no complaints from me!”

He gets up from the couch, takes out a small box from the shopping bag to set it aside, and stuffs your discarded candy wrappers into it before heading to the kitchen to throw them away.

When he returns from the kitchen, your eyes linger on him. “Thanks, Jihoonie,” you whisper. “For…everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a wink before sinking back into the couch beside you.

This turned out to be the complete opposite of your initial fears. Not only did this one-off experiment exceed all your expectations, but it seems your friendship remained the same. Though you never would have guessed that your best friend would end up giving you the best orgasms of your life.

As you continue to enjoy your treat, you notice Jihoon’s eyes fixed on your tongue as it swirls around the chocolate ice cream. His dark eyes watching you with the same intensity as when you came undone with his touch earlier.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “Quit staring at me like that,” you cautioned, though your tone suggested otherwise.

“Then don’t ever eat an ice cream cone in front of me,” he responds with a chuckle as he subtly adjusts himself beneath his pants.

You bite your lip, feeling a warmth between your legs again. “You know...” you clear your throat, reaching for the box of condoms he left on the coffee table, “I wonder if these things really live up to the ‘raw’ feel.”

He clicks his teeth dismissively before responding. “I think it’s false advertising.”

“You think so?”

He takes the box from you, examining the label. “I mean, we do have a perfect point of comparison,” he reasons, a smile ghosting his lips. “Should we find out?”

You stare at each other for a moment before breaking into grins and exclaiming in unison, “For science!”

Main SVT Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading!

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[lizzie-boo]

Christmas Party

Steve Harrington x Reader

Ficmas Day 9

Summary: When your best friend Steve overhears you joking with Nancy it changes the course of your friendship forever.

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Happy last day of ficmas. I wanted to write 12 stories but that never happened. Honestly, though, I'm really happy with writing 9 becuase I never intended to do ficmas at all this year. Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Are we sure this is a good idea, what if someone calls the cops?” You ask, still not fully onboard with the idea of throwing a Christmas party. 

“Don’t worry it’s just for our group of friends plus if the cops get called we’re fine. Remember Chief Hopper is Jonathan and Will’s stepdad and he’d never bust them for having a party,” Steve reassures you as he hands you another box of decorations. 

Removing the lid from the box you grab out a couple strands of garland and begin to place them around the living room. Steve follows behind you stringing up lights as he goes. 

“You’re sure we won’t get in trouble?” 

“It’s just a casual Christmas party, not a rager I promise. Plus half the people coming are practically children. It’s just gonna be us hanging out and eating snacks for a few hours.” 

You knew Steve put his old habits behind him years ago but you were always nervous he would revert to his old ways. That this party would snap him back to who he used to be and what would start as an innocent group hang out would spiral into the party of the century. The fears that if he went back to his old ways he would drop you and you would be without a best friend once more rattled around your brain. As his words finally sink in you let your shoulders relax.

“Plus, Dustin is bringing Suzie and I don’t want to scare her off. He seems to really like her so as surrogate mom I need to make a good impression,” Steve jokes and the last of your reservations disappear. 

You continue to joke and talk as you finish putting up the last of the decorations. Every so often stopping to sneak a glance at your best friend wondering if there would ever be a chance for the two of you to be more. 

The doorbell rings right at seven and you make your way to the entryway. You open the door for Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin ushering them in from the cold. Nancy pulls you into a quick hug as Jonathan offers a quiet hello. 

“So where is the dingus?” Robin asks as she wiggles her eyebrows at you. 

Pushing her shoulder lightly you respond, “He’s in the kitchen finishing up getting snacks ready.” 

“I’ll go help him,” Robin announces before rushing off to the kitchen. 

“I’m guessing this means you haven’t talked to him about how you feel yet,” Nancy says as she loops her arm with yours and pulls you into the living room leaving Jonathan to get the door for the kids. 

You take a seat next to her on the couch. “I don’t wanna screw up what we have. He’s my best friend. Why risk losing him when I can just stay his friend forever and at least have him in my life.” 

Nancy pats your arm giving you the same sad look her and Robin use everytime they bring up the topic and you and Steve being something more. You reach out and tap her nose breaking the awkward tension forming. Just then the kids, Jonathan, and Eddie file into the living room taking up all the available seats. 

Glancing over your shoulder you look for any sign of Steve or Robin, wondering what is taking them so long. Turning your attention back to the room you smile at Eddie as he tries to mediate a fight between Lucas and Dustin about what Christmas movie everyone should watch. 

Steve and Robin make their way toward the living room right as Nancy leans over, “Maybe some alone time with Eddie could help you forget about your feelings for Steve,” she jokes. 

“I don’t doubt that, he could probably make me forget my own name,” you joke back, bumping your shoulder into hers and you both laugh. 

Behind you Steve shoves the tray of snacks he’s holding into Robin’s hands and rushes back into the kitchen needing some time to think. Robin takes it in stride and sets it on the coffee table with a loud thud. 

“I think I hurt my wrist carrying the tray. Do you think you can go help Steve with the rest?” Robin asks as she plops down on the couch between you and Nancy. Before you can even answer her and Nancy are already chatting away about something one of the kids said. 

Pushing off the couch you make your way into the kitchen to find Steve with his palms pushed against the countertop. His head hangs and his eyes are screwed shut. The sight of him sends a pang of panic to your chest. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you place a hand on his back. 

“Do you actually wanna fuck Munson?” he bites out as he curls a hand into a fist. 

Your hand drops to your side as quickly as your mouth falls open. You hadn’t realized that he heard your joke. If you knew he was standing there you never would have said anything. 

You take a moment to assess the situation before settling on your response, “It was just a dumb joke between me and Nancy. Plus I never said that I wanted to fuck him, just that he would probably be good at it.” 

“So you don’t wanna get under him?” His tone is gentler this time as he turns to look at you. 

“No, never. It was just a joke.” You run a hand along his arm hoping to calm him down so you can head back to the party in the other room. 

His hand reaches out and grabs your free hand holding you in place. “So do you still want to forget about your feelings for me?” His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to figure out what you are going to say. 

“Only if you want me to,” you whisper, now realizing the space between you had lessened. 

He drops your hand, stepping in to cup your cheek. “That’s the last thing I want baby” he mumbles before crashing his lips to yours. Your hands tangle in his hair as your lips move in sync. Taking a step back he presses you into the counter. The cool press against your back sends a shiver down your spine and you tug at his hair in an attempt to deepen the kiss. 

He pulls back and you drop your hands to his shoulders. You both take a moment to catch your breaths. He shoots you a smile before hoisting you onto the counter. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and he wastes no time diving back in for another kiss. 

This time when he pulls away it’s to trail a line of kisses down your neck. He works his way back up and gently nips at your earlobe causing you to let out a moan that you try to muffle with your hand. His lips press against your ear and he whispers, “The only one who is allowed to make you forget your name from now on is me.” You pull him back into another searing kiss completely forgetting about the party in the other room. 

[kiryoutann]

i feel like this was wayyy too cute not to share now, so… sneak peek??? and i'm convinced simon is the most patient girl dad out there.

Walking over slowly so as not to scare her, he then asked, “What’s goin’ on ‘ere then?”

Gianna whipped around in a flash like a criminal caught in the act, her big brown eyes gleaming with a touch of guilt but not a trace of fear. "I dropped my cereal," she confessed succinctly, mirroring a trait she had unquestionably inherited from her father.

He crouched down next to her. “’Ere, let me help you with that,” then reached out, taking the paper towel from her tiny hands and started cleaning up.

Gianna just watched him until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“’S alright, darlin’. Accidents ‘appen.” Simon stated, rising to his feet and tossing the used tissues into the trash can. He then turned his attention back to his daughter. “But you could’ve woke me up. I’d ‘ave helped you clean it up straight away.”

“I know, but you were sleeping. An’ mum says you sleep like a… like a… clog?”

At that, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I think you mean a log, love.” He corrected.

“Oh right!” The little girl exclaims, nodding her head. “Tha’s the word. You sleep like a log.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever yer mum says.” He glanced at the box of cereal still sitting on the kitchen counter, then decided to keep himself and his daughter away from it. “So cereal is no option then. What d’you want for breakfast instead?”

Without missing a beat, Gianna chirps, “Ice cream!”

Simon snorts, shaking his head. “Can’t ‘ave ice cream for breakfast, darlin’.”

Gianna tilts her head to the side, eyes looking up at him questioningly. "Why not?" she asked. “Mummy 'as coffee for breakfast, alllll the time!” she spreads her arms out for dramatic effect—he chuckles at that. Definitely got it from mommy.

“Yeah, don’t be like yer mum, alright?”

The girl frowns slightly. “But why not? Mummy’s pretty, an’ she cooks good food.”

Something he couldn’t disagree with. He nodded, reaching out to ruffle her blonde hair. “That she does, darlin’. But we still don’t want you havin’ coffee or ice cream for breakfast, alright?”

"Okay, then can we go to Uncle John's house?" she asked.

“An’ why’s that?”

Gianna bounced on her toes, her arms swinging. “I miss Buddy an’ Daisy!”

Simon groaned inwardly. Should’ve known she’d bring that up. Ever since that one time he brought her to Price’s place and she met his dogs, Gianna has been begging to go back. Every time after school—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” Every weekend—“Can we go to Uncle John’s house?” And the thing is, the bloody mutts aren’t even there anymore, not since Price and his missus divorced.

“The dogs ain't there anymore, love.” He watched her face fall.

"Why not?" she asked, eyes wide in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “Cause,” he trailed off, not really wanting to explain the whole messy divorce situation to a five-year-old. “Nevermind that. What d’you want for breakfast?”

Instead of answering, Gianna crossed her arms while frowning. “I don’t want breakfast. I want Buddy an’ Daisy!

A sigh escaped Simon as the results of his parenting bit him in the ass. Bloody hell, he had to stop surrendering to her big eyes and pouting lips—just like her mum. She had learned from the best, hadn’t she? Got him wrapped around her tiny finger. There was only one trick up his sleeve to get her to cooperate.

“If you don’t eat breakfast, then then we won’t be able to go an’ watch yer mum later.”

And sure enough, Gianna’s whole expression lit up, renewed. She gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth in an exaggerated gesture. Seems like he got himself a drama queen.

“We’re gonna watch Mum?!” she asked, full of hope.

Simon nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression but always failing because of her antics. “As long as you behave an’ eat breakfast.”

The five-year-old was cheering, jumping, and doing her little dances in unbridled energy—just like her mum. He guessed it was true what Garrick said that day the lads visited the two of you at the hospital after Gianna was born—“She’s a perfect blend of the both of you.”

[sunsburns]

this came to me in a dream last night but imagine bsf!vi spying on you and your date (fem!reader, hints of caitvi x reader)

clearly, violet isn’t the jealous type, there wasn’t much that she was usually up against anyway. she was just… looking out for you—it was hard to trust some random date you met on an app or through some mutual friend.

“you don’t trust anyone, vi,” you said, smoothing the last stray pieces of hair in the mirror. vi stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame like she had nothing better to do, her arms crossed over her chest.

“i trust people,” she shot back. her tone was defensive like you’d accused her of something worse. “i do!”

“right,” you replied, your smile a little too knowing for her liking.

your phone buzzed on the counter, and vi’s gaze flickered to the screen. here, it read. she watched as your expression shifted—nerves and excitement mixed together in a way she didn’t see often.

“they’re outside,” you said, glancing at her. vi didn’t budge, just gave a small nod like she wasn’t planning to leave her spot anytime soon.

“have fun,” she said after a beat,

you grabbed your jacket and stepped past her, pausing just long enough to catch her eye. “don’t wait up.”

vi smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “sure. i’ve got better things to do than babysit your bad decisions.”

and by better things, she meant standing there, riling herself up for no reason. vi lingered in the doorway long after you left, her arms now loosely hanging at her sides. she could picture it too clearly: you sitting at some café, that soft, nervous smile you got when you weren’t sure what to say, your fingers brushing over the edge of your cup, looking as good as you always did. only this time, that smile wasn’t for her. it was for some fucking stranger.

her jaw tightened as the thought settled in. what kind of person even asks you out like this? who were they to deserve your attention, your time? vi didn’t even know their name, let alone what they looked like, but the image of some faceless jerk talking too much, maybe trying to impress you with something lame, was enough to make her roll her eyes.

she wasn’t jealous. she wasn’t.

jealousy was messy, and vi didn’t do messy. she wasn’t the type to get all worked up over something that wasn’t her business. this wasn’t her business. except—what if this person turned out to be trouble? what if they hurt you?

shit, what if you liked them?

“sounds like jealousy to me,” caitlyn’s voice chimed through her phone’s speaker a few minutes later.

vi’s jaw tightened as she paced the room, staring at the faint reflection of herself in the window. hooded sweatshirt, messy hair, no real plan—she looked like someone gearing up for trouble. “shut up, it’s not.”

“uh-huh,” caitlyn said, entirely unconvinced.

vi exhaled heavily, tugging her hood up like it might smother the heat creeping up her neck. “i just… wish i knew what was going on. that’s all.” her voice was quieter this time, almost an admission.

she hated not knowing. not knowing who this person was, what they wanted with you, what you were saying to them right now. were you laughing? leaning in close?

“you just gotta chill,” caitlyn said, her tone softening slightly. “you’ll hear all about it when the date’s over, i’m sure. you’re overthinking this.”

“i have an idea,” vi said suddenly, the words spilling out before she’d fully thought them through.

“oh no.”

a slow, mischievous grin pulled at vi’s lips, and her pacing stopped. her fingers flexed at her side as a plan began to form. it wasn’t smart. it wasn’t subtle. it was terrible. “how quickly can you come over?”

“vi, whatever you’re thinking—”

“just get here.”

——

“i can’t believe you’ve dragged me into this,” caitlyn muttered, her voice low and filled with annoyance as she tugged the brim of her cap down further over her face. the fabric shadowed her sharp eyes, which were darting toward the café window like she was already second-guessing her decision to come.

“you love this,” vi said casually, fiddling with the drawstrings of her hoodie.

“no, vi, i really don’t,” caitlyn shot back, her words pointed but softened by a resigned sigh.

as they approached the café entrance, vi glanced inside, her eyes instantly locking onto you. there you were, seated across from somone who smiled at you. vi hated them already.

caitlyn slipped into a barstool near the window, unfolding a newspaper she’d grabbed from the stand out front. her face was completely hidden behind the thin pages. vi, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as subtle.

her hood was yanked low over her face, and the sunglasses perched on her nose were oversized and crooked, like she’d grabbed them in a hurry. vi hovered awkwardly by the counter, pretending to study the menu even though her eyes kept flicking over to you.

“you’re staring,” caitlyn hissed from behind the paper.

“am not,” vi muttered back, but she didn’t look away.

you were laughing now, that light, effortless kind of laugh that vi rarely saw unless she was the one making you smile. her chest tightened as she watched you tilt your head toward your date, your expression so open, so trusting.

“they’re not even funny,” vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes at your date.

“oh, please,” caitlyn whispered harshly, her exasperation cutting through vi’s muttering. “you’re acting ridiculous. do you even have a plan?”

“i’m working on it,” vi mumbled, finally tearing her eyes away to stare at the drink options on the board. she wasn’t working on anything. she just knew she had to be here—close enough to hear the cadence of your voice.

your date said something else, and you laughed again, this time louder, brighter. vi’s fists curled at her sides as her gut twisted uncomfortably.

“this is a terrible idea,” caitlyn said, sighing heavily as she lowered the paper just enough to glance at vi. “you’re a disaster.”

“shut up,” vi shot back under her breath. but deep down, she knew caitlyn was right.

disaster or not, she wasn’t leaving until your date was over.

[insomniadreamzz]

Request: So I have a naughty or nice thingy with Top sevika x brat reader where the reader is teasing her and sevika decides whether you are naughty or nice. maybe a little prey predator kink chase and if readers caught shes fucked ... 10/10 if G!p.

———

Naughty or Nice?

Mentions of G!P, spanking, brat fem!Reader getting punished

G!P Sevika x Fem!Reader

Of course you and Sevika were spending Christmas eve at the Last Drop. You couldn’t say no to her idea even though you preferred a more cozy evening with your girlfriend together. But well…Sevika just loved hanging out there and spending time with her is always beautiful no matter where.

So like every evening Sevika was gambling and drinking and you sat beside her, not into that kind of game she played but you watched and drinked your own drink.

A few hours passed and you began to feel really bored. And this boredom will make you be in trouble later.

Your hand moved to her thigh under the table, gently caressing her as you rest your head against Sevika‘s shoulder, you can feel her side eyeing you but that didn’t stop you. You continued, your hand slowly reaching to her inner thighs near her crotch and you can feel her shift a little, a grumble leaving her lips. „Baby…stop that.“ She said after exhaling her smoke, focused on her cards. „But I am not doing anything…focus on your game before the guys you playin with will notice.“ You said, hand brushing over her crotch and then going back to her thigh again, making Sevika get clearly nervous. „Ugh…I told you to stop.“

„What’s going on? Is your girlfriend distracting you?“ One of the guys playing with her mocked her with a disgusting grin, making Sevika roll her eyes. „At least I have a girlfriend.“ She mocked him back, making him look down at his cards again with a grunt. You already knew your teasing will have consequences but you didn’t care.

Later at home you walked happily in your living room, seeing Sevika sitting on the couch as she looked at you with a raised eyebrow. „So? What was that before?“ She asked you and you played innocent, straddling her lap. „I don’t know what you mean. Everything was fine, you won.“ You chuckled, leaning down to her, your lips almost touched but you didn’t kiss her, you wanted to let her chase for what she wanted. „And by the way…its a beautiful day today. Tomorrow is Christmas!“ You cheered, leaning back as you placed a christmas hat on Sevika, chuckling at the sight of her looking at you confused. She definitely expected a kiss and not that. Her strong hand grabbing your hip as her patience got thinner, a grin on her face. „So?? I guess Santa has to decide now if you have been naughty or nice.“ She said with a more lustful low voice, making you shiver but you didn’t give in that fast.

Well…you jumped off her lap, with a wide grin, it happened so sudden she didn’t have time to process it and keep you right where you were. „Then you need to get me first.“ You stuck out your tongue before running away, making her follow you. You expected her to stay there in confusion but she was close behind you as you stood in the bedroom, chuckling to yourself. Your breath hitched as you felt hers on your neck before she whispered into your ear. „A prey should never run from a predator…it makes it only more exciting to catch you.“

You turn around in shock, not expecting that at all but you didn’t show her that you were surprised. „Is that so?“ You kept with your teasing before Sevika pushed you, making you fall on the bed, your back hitting the mattress as you whined softly, more with excitement. „Hnn…I guess you catched me here…poor me.“

You watched as she unbuckled her pants, exposing her hard member in front of you which drove you already crazy, making it only better when she hovers over you, both her hands, human and mechanic one resting beside your head. „You have been very very naughty…I think you need a lesson.“ She purred out, clearly not being able anymore to hold back as she closed the gap between you two, kissing you deeply meanwhile her hands move down to take off your pants and panties, revealing your excitement towards her as she pulled back, looking at your lustful expression, she knew she had you and you only wondered how she could look this cute and hot at the same time, not sure if she still knows about the Christmas hat but you didn’t mention it, finally wanting her to punish you for being so naughty.

„You think you will just get what you want so badly after being this bad? Come on, don’t be silly. Turn around.“ She commanded, knowing you loved looking at her during sex but that she won’t give you today. „What if I don’t want to?“ You got back to your previous behavior, making her sigh before she made you turn, Sevika was so much stronger you had no chance. In seconds you were on all fours, ass up for her. „I gave you a chance, you won’t get a second chance.“

You felt her hand squeezing your ass before spanking it, making you whine in response and grab the bed sheets under you. „Fuck!…“ You didn’t think she would really punish you but Sevika made sure you will remember this night very well. After a few more spanks, your legs were already shaking from the good pain, your ass cheeks being all red. „That’s a good girl…now you deserve a little more.“ She cooed, moving her arm around you to reach your dripping pussy, running her fingers gently along your wet folds and plays a little bit with your clit, making you squirm. „F-Fuck me already…“ You mumbled with a little whine, removing her fingers as she shoved them into your mouth, letting you suck her fingers and taste yourself on them, making you moan. „What was that?“ She asked, removing her finger from your mouth before giving your ass another slap, gaining another whine from you. „F-fuck me already! Please…“ You couldn’t take it anymore so you obeyed and that made Sevika smirk, having you right there where she wanted you.

Finally she moved her cock inside if you, beginning to thrust into you as she held your hips, keeping you in place. Both of you ending up being a moaning mess, the way she went so deep into you making you feel every inch of her, it was just driving you almost over the edge, you secretly wanted this all evening and finally you got it.

Her movements became harder and faster, making you reach your orgasm with her deep thrusts, your legs shaking as you lift up your feet, her cumming right after you as she felt you clench around her cock, of course not pulling out, she wanted to fill you up with everything she had, her grip getting tighter on you as she came, probably leaving marks there. „Ughh! Fuck! Good girl…“ She moaned out and that was everything you wanted to hear.

After you ride out your orgasm, she pulled out, watching a little of her cum dripping out of you before you collapsed in the bed, panting heavily.

Sevika made sure to keep you close in her arms until you fully calmed down, placing a kiss on your lips. „Good girl…you were so nice for me…“

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs. 

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.” 

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this. 

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark. 

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.” 

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was. 

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s. 

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red. 

Like She’s been crying. 

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood. 

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“ 

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin�� about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more. 

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious. 

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand. 

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go. 

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this. 

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours. 

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips. 

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you. 

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you. 

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over. 

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire.  You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too. 

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs. 

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants. 

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.” 

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go. 

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak. 

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan. 

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.  

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans. 

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?” 

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut. 

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@tcedenslash

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Teach a bot to Kiss: Metroplex

Shout out to my friend TBean for sending me a Hal900 fic that clearly inspired me. I also made a little reference to a First aid x Metroplex fic that I read awhile ago. If anyone knows of it, Please link me ToT

Metroplex loves when you read aloud to him. It could be a lonely experience as a living city, often forgotten by its residents. It had been no surprise when the news of first contact reached Metroplex, and he requested to meet one of these humans. Being brought into a city, only to be told the city is who wanted to meet you had been an eye opener to just how big Cybertronians could be.

Introducing yourself to a nearly empty room had felt odd and Scamper, an extension of Metroplex, had been offered as a way to adjust. The autonomous troops had made the transition easy once you understood they were simultaneously separate and connected to the Titan. The giant of few words surprised his fellow Autobots with how chatty he was with you. Requests from both of you for visits were frequent, leading to your placement as Ambassador to him and the bots that resided within. Now you lived inside him, and reminded yourself not to word it like that cause it sounded wrong on so many levels.

Friendship blossomed into a crush on what was essentially a faceless living city. Sure, other bots told you he could transform and indeed had a face, but it was very unlikely you would ever see it. The Titan typically remaining dormant. How could you explain to other humans how long conversations about history and reading aloud led to such feelings. Perhaps Cybertronians would better understand. Or not. You keep this crush to yourself, content in being an ambassador. Between you and the Titan, Ambassador was just a fancy way to say friend.

The command center-like space was empty save for you and some observation drones. His brain took up the middle of the room, surrounded by different panels and screens. Some for communication, some for... you weren't going to try and guess. It was a place you were commonly found, performing "ambassador duties". Sitting on one of these empty panels and speaking or like today, reading to him. Metroplex would sometimes interrupt, asking you to explain a concept or word that did not translate well.

"My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." You pause to take a breath and Metroplex interrupts.

"What is a kiss?" The voice has no origin, but you can feel it around you. that had taken more time than the rest to get used to. Voices from nowhere.

Explaining things very rarely gave you reason to pause, but this time you hold the open book to your mouth, thinking, feeling cheeks warm as you stall.

"A kiss is a form of affection. Pressing lips together. Like a hug of the mouths." Hugging had been something you explained somewhat recently after he witnessed you and another human hug in greeting. The fact these being, so similar in the value of relationships and connections, had such different ways of expressing it. His auto-troop, Scramble, stood in as a body to demonstrate a hug, and was promptly put to use hugging other autobots. The troops often hugged you when bumping into each other around the Titan's internal routes. You were never sure if it was their own actions or his. Not that you minded. They were always careful with you.

Metroplex often asked for demonstrations, so it was no surprise when the voice, almost timidly, asks for a demonstration of a kiss. Six-gun was nearby, seemingly on standby. Waiting for your answer. Calling out to the bot, he steps closer and kneels to your level. Six-Gun had a permanent battle mask, so you think for a moment.

"Well… Something acceptable between friends is a cheek kiss. In some cultures it is even a common greeting." A small peck to the side of his battle mask. Taking a few steps, you kiss the other side. It felt like kissing a friend.

The visor of Six-Gun lights up, "Well hello to you too!" The extension of Metroplex bumps his battle mask into you gently. A mimicry of your own greeting kiss. You give a smile, and a pat to his face before he moves off again. A quick simple lesson.

"You know Metroplex, I don't feel like I gave you a kiss." You comment as you sit back down, grabbing the book. It was a thought that slipped out.

"Please elaborate."

"It didn't feel like I gave you a kiss. It felt like I kissed Six-gun," Tapping your fingers on the book, rereading the line that made him ask. "I'm not sure where I could even give you a kiss unless you transform." You tried to picture how big he would be. First aid had once told you he was able to stand on the glass over the Titans optics. You would be ant sized!

"The main panel beside you." He speaks after a moment of thought.

You glance over and see a panel that differs from the others. It had never stood out to you before, full of the same buttons and lights everywhere, save for the large one in the center.

"it is a direct interface." He explains, sensing your questioning, "Typically used by my Autonomous troops and drones. Sometimes city speakers."

You slip down from your perch and onto the one indicated. Metroplex speaks again, the lights blinking in time with his words, "I am unsure how to better explain it, but similar to how I see and feel your movements inside of me, but with direct touch with the center."

"I see." Stepping carefully around the smaller lights and buttons, you make way to that center light and kneel in front of it. It pulsates steadily. Placing your hand on it causes the light to ripple. A warmth spreads upwards, the hairs on your arm sticking up.

"I feel you." His voice sounds closer, yet there is still no specific source. "Can you feel me?"

A pulse of light, a pulse of sensation up your arm. Barely there, like a spider crawling up. He was reaching back.

"I think so. Yes, yes I can feel you Metroplex." A sense of giddiness takes over you. You had interreacted with him through various proxies, but this was direct. As face to face as you thought you could be. "I feel you Metroplex."

The pulsing quickens. "I feel you."

The smile can't be helped. Neither can the giggling. "Hello friend."

"Hello friend."

You deduce that it is a sort of feedback loop, or connection. You can feel the edges of his mind. The pleasant curiosity he feels getting to observe you a new way, the glimmer of comfort he feels with you near. Would it be stronger if you were Cybertronian?

Could he feel how you felt about him?

"You are distressed." He states, as if reading your mind, "If it distresses you to kiss me, do not feel obligated."

The way Metroplex says it makes you laugh, "I don't feel obligated. I worry cause-" You run your palm across the glass, watching light follow the motion, "- I shouldn't kiss you. Not without telling you some things." He is silent, waiting for you to continue. "I like you MP."

"I enjoy your presence as well."

"More than friends Metro," You knew that Cybertronians had relationships and love in their own way, "I shouldn't kiss you when I feel this way. Not unless you want to."

"I do want to."

"I mean, feel the same way as me."

"I enjoy your presence greatly, y/n."

The light pulses quickly, and you look up at his brain. It's light, not a solid grasp but you feel it through the connection. A great affection, like a blossom. A reflection of your own heart.

"Oh. Oh!" It's followed by more giddiness as you lean closer. The pulsing quickens, like your own heart beat. Lips against the warm glass. Like the cheek kiss you gave Six-shot. A single chaste peck that leaves a slight smudge. You rub it away with your thumb, watching the light ripple from your touch. His own pulse is slower now.

"May I have another?"

Smiling, hands sliding over the glass, your kiss him again. Slower press of your lips. Followed by a burst of joy, your own and his. Tremors make you pull away, thinking your own excitement was the cause.

It was Metroplex.

His frame shaking, nothing violent, but very notable. Comms started going off, asking the Titan what was going on and if he was okay. You feel his embarrassment, replying to each one and sending out the all clear. You can't resist pressing another kiss to the panel.

[shuavez]

2:58am — j.ww

tags/warnings — waiter!wonwoo x reader. no warnings!

a/n — i love pancake parlour. that’s it that’s the fic.

The diner is quiet, save for the soft hum of the company Spotify playlist filling the air and the occasional sound of banter drifting from the kitchen, where the cooks are talking about anything but the food. The bright lights above cast a muted glow over the half-empty tables, the remnants of late-night customers already cleared away.

You’re finishing up wiping down already-clean tables, the cloth warm and damp in your hands, the rhythmic motion soothing after hours of not much happening. The clock on the wall ticks lazily toward 3 a.m., and it’s just you and Wonwoo left.

“God, it’s dead tonight,” you mutter, pushing the last of the crumbs off a booth with a sigh. You glance over at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

He looks up at you, his lips curling into a smile. “At least we have a place to ourselves.” He’s always so calm, always managing to make even the dullest hours feel comfortable.

“True,” you reply, leaning on the counter next to him. “I’m almost too comfortable. I feel like we should start a podcast or something. ‘Pancake Philosophy.’ I mean, we have all the time in the world for deep, philosophical conversations, right?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I’m not sure you’re ready for my thoughts. Some of them are too deep for you.” His voice is playful, but you catch the hint of affection behind the teasing.

“Too deep, huh?” you tease back, grinning. “I bet you’re the type of guy to have a secret stash of journals filled with all your musings.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but his smile lingers, as it always does when you’re around. “If I had a secret stash, I’d probably burn it. Who needs to remember all that nonsense?”

“I think you secretly want to be a philosopher. Bet you’ve thought about it,” you poke, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Maybe.” He looks at you, his expression softening a little. “Maybe I just want to be good at something.”

“Pretty sure you’re already good at everything, Wonwoo,” you reply, giving him a half-hearted eye roll. “I can barely get my one job done, and you’re over here making pancakes look like art and being wise at the same time.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic. But you do have a point. I’m good at pancakes.”

“You’re the best at pancakes,” you affirm, nudging him with your shoulder. It’s playful, easy—like it’s always been between you two. There’s a smoothness to your friendship, a shared understanding without needing to say much. You’ve both been here countless times before, these quiet hours at the end of the night, and it’s always felt like home.

From the back, you hear Jeonghan’s voice echoing out to the front of the diner. “You two still here? I’m done with you. Go home already.”

You glance up at the clock—it’s almost 3 a.m., and he’s right. You’ve been finished with your shift for a while now, but there’s something nice about hanging around with Wonwoo, the air light and comfortable.

“Well, guess we’re done,” you say, gathering your stuff and heading toward your usual booth. “I’m not gonna complain about leaving early, but I swear, one of these days, I’m going to be too good at this job.”

Wonwoo falls in step beside you, nursing a stack of pancakes the cooks had kindly prepared for your knockoff. “I’m sure you’ll make it to employee of the month eventually. Don’t worry.”

“You’re really gonna stick with that ‘employee of the month’ thing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “At this rate, I’m more likely to get ‘most likely to break something before the end of my shift.’”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you’ve already won that award. Multiple times.”

“Rude.” You give him a playful shove as you both walk to the far booth in the corner of the diner, slipping into your usual seats. “I’m not that bad.”

Wonwoo chuckles, reaching immediately for a fork. “Let’s be real—if anyone’s gonna break something, it’s you.” He smirks, poking idly at the edge of a pancake.

You roll your eyes again, grabbing the syrup and drizzling it over the pancakes that still sit between you two. “I’m not that clumsy, alright? I can handle a few spatulas and a knife without causing a catastrophe.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his smile widening. “If you say so.”

You settle into a comfortable silence after that, just the sound of your forks scraping against plates filling the air. It’s a simple, ordinary moment, but it’s perfect in its own way. You’re used to this—eating pancakes at 3 a.m., laughing over the stupidest things, making fun of each other like friends do. But tonight, something’s different.

After a while, Wonwoo finally speaks again, his voice a little softer, more serious. “Hey, uh… I was thinking.”

You glance up at him. “That’s dangerous. You thinking always leads to something weird.”

He laughs, but there’s something nervous in it. “Maybe. But, uh… you wanna go out sometime? Like, outside of work?” His words stumble over each other, but you catch the sincerity in them, the way his gaze lingers just a little longer than usual.

You freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth, and blink. Wonwoo’s never been the type to make bold moves—he’s always been the quiet one, the one who observes more than speaks. The idea of him asking you out feels like something out of a dream.

“Like a date?” you ask, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he confirms, voice quiet but earnest. “I mean… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Just didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

You stare at him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, and a slow smile spreads across your face. “I’d like that,” you say softly. “I think I’d really like that.”

Wonwoo visibly relaxes, his smile returning, this time warmer. The tension that was there just a moment ago melts away, and the air between you two feels lighter. He looks down at his half-empty plate, suddenly unsure again. “I’ll… figure out when and where. I’ll make it good, I promise.”

After a few minutes, you finish the last bite of your pancakes, and you both slide out of the booth. The night air hits you both as you walk toward your car, the cool breeze stirring the stillness around you. There’s a slight unease in the air, but it’s not bad—just new.

There’s a pause—an almost awkward silence, but it’s filled with the weight of unspoken feelings, the kind that have been lingering in the air for far too long. Wonwoo shifts on his feet, then looks at you, his voice low and careful. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

The question, so polite and sincere, takes you by surprise. It’s almost as if he’s asking for permission to release something that’s been building between you two. You nod, a little breathless, and his hand comes to rest gently at your side.

He leans in slowly, cautiously, like he’s afraid he might break the fragile tension between you. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft at first—tentative, almost awkward, as if both of you are learning how to fit together in this new way. But then, with a shift of his weight, a soft sigh against your lips, it changes.

The kiss deepens, the rhythm coming naturally now as you both move in sync. It’s a release, an exhale of everything unsaid, and you lose yourself in the warmth of it. His lips are gentle yet insistent, his hand tentatively brushing the side of your face, and you can feel the quiet urgency that’s been hidden beneath the surface.

Just when you’re beginning to lose track of time, a voice breaks through the moment.

Jeonghan’s leaning against the door, holding a trash bag. “Well, look at that,” he says with a sly grin, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been counting down the days until Wonwoo grew a pair.”

You laugh, pulling away from Wonwoo with a grin, and Jeonghan’s teasing only makes the moment feel more real.

“I’ll text you,” you say to Wonwoo, quickly pulling out your phone and setting a time and place. The promise of a real date, outside of work, feels like something new and exciting.

As you drive away, the taste of hot fudge and maple syrup lingers on your lips, mixing with the sweet anticipation of what’s to come.

[judesmoonbeauty]

2025 Mystery Bag Prologue: Lucky Man Competition

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

It’s the end of the year, it's condemnation, after condemnation, after condemnation.

The busy Crown members also seem to get worn out by the end of the year.

Roger: Ah- I’ve worked hard this year. I don’t feel like lifting a finger anymore.

Harrison: I get what ya mean, the end of the year’s…..gotten worse.

Harrison: Well, Jude’s seems crappier though.

Jude: Those damned average employees makin’ stupid mistakes durin’ the shittiest busiest time.

Ellis: It's true that the busier you are, the more mistakes you make and the more work you have to do.

Alfons: I’ve also been rather busy what with attending parties with Elbie, greeting people, drinking parties, and caring for the cat!

Elbert: I didn’t ask him to care for the cat….but, you saved it. Thank you.

Liam: We’re all exhausted. But we’ve finished our duties for the year, so now we can take it easy to our heart’s content.

William: I agree with Liam.

William: That’s what I want to say, but at times like this,

Victor: My cutie Crown members are all gathered together ~~!

William: This man stirs up a perpetual storm at Crown.

Jude & Harrison: I’m dyin’.

Victor: This is a marvelous and amazing event. Let’s APPLAUSE!

Liam & Ellis: Yay! Clapping!

Jude: If it’s somethin’ stupid, I’ll sink ya in the sea today.

Victor: You’re the stars of 2025! The Lucky Man competition will be held in the UK, WHOOOOOO!

Jude: Tch.

Ellis: Jude, your blood vessel’s about to burst.

Victor: I see, I see! I’m delighted you’re so happy that your blood vessels could burst!

William: This is the first event where Jude is so excited about it that his blood vessels pop, isn’t it?

Victor: This is a project her Majesty has been working on for many years, and it’s being held for the first time.

Victor: Here, let me explain the rules. They’re simple.

Victor: The person who runs the designated course, and reaches the goal first will be chosen as the Lucky Man.

Victor: The Lucky Man is said to be brought to various events throughout the year for good luck.

Alfons: Essentially, it’s a race to determine first place.

Victor: It’s exactly that!

Victor: First, there is a qualifying round. Those whom make it through, will be able to participate in the final match. This means that everyone has an equal chance to participate.

Victor: It’s fun, it’s exciting! Now, all of Crown should join!

Jude: How stupid. Why should I be runnin’ ‘round in this cold ass weather?

Harrison: Yeah, I’ll pass too. Gimme a break, I’m already exhausted.

Roger: I agree. If there were some benefit like money or something, I wouldn’t hesitate to think it over—

Victor: What if, Her Majesty would grant any one wish to the one chosen as the Lucky Man?

Alfons & Roger: Anything?

Roger: Her Majesty’s really stepped up. Victor, I’ll join.

Ellis: Roger’s participating? Guess I will too if that’s the case.

Ellis: Jude?

Jude: If yer sayin’ “anythin’” then that changes thin’s.

Alfons: Just look at everyone declaring their participation one after the other. Elbie, what of you?

Elbert: …..I don’t compete very often.

Victor: Ahhh! Come to think of it, Kate said something like this,

Victor: “The Lucky Man is amazing! I respect anyone tries their best at anything” —

Elbert: Victor, I’ll join too.

Alfons: For cash. I’ll participate too. I adore reveling in drinking sprees.

Liam: Me too, me too! Win or lose, it’ll be a great memory.

Liam: C’mon, Harry you too! I’m sure Kate will come to cheer us on.

Harrison: Don’t hit my arm, Liam. Good grief, I get it……I’ll tag along too.

Victor: Now, that just leaves William. Although I don’t think I need to ask.

William: Of course, I’ll join. The real pleasure of one’s life is to enjoy everything.

Victor: All of Crown, including myself will participate by entering the qualifying round.

Victor: Crown, the townspeople, and the rest I’m certain —

[Transitions to Vogel]

Darius: — Apparently, an event like that is taking place. We three Vogel’s have announced our participation as well.

Nica & Ring: ….Huh?

Darius: Ahaha, your surprised looks are exactly the same.

Darius: It’s at times like this I think you really are twins.

Nica: Your eccentricities are nothing new Dari, but is there any reason for us to participate in this?

Darius: Do you really feel I always say such outlandish things?

Darius: Simply put, choosing a Lucky Man seems amusing, doesn’t it?

Nica: That’s it? Just the king’s whim.

Nica: So, why does my little brother look so happy?

Ring: Oh, um….

Ring: ….Because I’ve always wanted to get excited along with a large group of people.

Darius: See, my lovely Ring feels the same way. Don’t you think?

Nica: Fine, I enter too. Frankly, a wish that’ll come true sounds delicious.

Darius: You’re such good boys Nica and Ring. Oh, just one thing….

Darius: Usage of our abilities are prohibited since we cursed are currently confidential information.

Nica & Ring: Verstanden [Got it] • Understood.

Darius: I wonder who’ll be chosen as the Lucky Man? Hehe, I look forward to it.

[Story Set Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @drachonia @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

[neocitylights]

LOVERS ROCK — a rockstar galaxy short story

“Our story is more complicated than this, I was basically crushing on you before even knowing who you were.” GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 2.5k

NOTES: A little follow-up on our favorite neighbors! Can be read as a standalone but it references a few things from the main story. Please let me know what you think, it’s gonna make my day!

Pushing the shop’s door open, you’re immediately greeted by the rich, strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the comforting warmth of the cozy place, momentarily shielding you from a chilly late afternoon.

An easy glance at the counter is more than enough for you to quickly spot Mark. Even through his back, the little details are unmistakable—the dark blue cap backwards, his beloved wired earphones around his neck and the out-of-place Sonny Angel keyring you’d put on his bag months ago making him stand out.

Grateful that the faculty meeting had ended earlier than expected, you decided to crash his plans. 

Every other Friday, you and Mark take turns buying dinner for each other, spending most of your nights as neighbors paying a visit next-door. Today, as it was his turn, you’d specifically mentioned craving the peanut butter cup cookies from your favorite coffee shop instead, Mark immediately taking the mission of buying them for you.

After taking a wild guess at his schedule—with a little help from Johnny—you hoped to catch him just in time to accompany him home as he’s done a million times for you.

Holding a giggle at your usual barista’s surprised eyes, you finally approach Mark, furtively slipping your arms around his waist before reaching over to rest your chin on his shoulder. 

As you feel him tense under your touch, visibly startled, the laugh escapes before you can stop it. “Baby, it’s me!”

He immediately whips his head around, the frown on his face melting to a softer expression upon seeing you. “Oh my God,” Mark starts, a groan escaping from his lips as his body immediately relaxes. “You scared the shit out of me just now.”

Still laughing, you squeeze him tighter, pressing a kiss his shoulder. “Are you surprised?”

“Jisung looked so shocked out of a sudden, I thought it was a creep or something,” he says, rolling his eyes in a mix of exasperation and confusion. “Damn, my heart’s beating so fast.”

At his words, you step around to face him and press a hand to Mark’s chest. “I just wanted to surprise you,” you say half-heartedly, amused at his rapid heartbeat. “It’s good to know I still have an effect on you, though.”

“You’ve always had it, baby.” Mark chuckles fondly, finally greeting you with his usual kiss to your cheek. “What’s up? Did you skip your work meeting today?”

“I’m a responsible faculty member now, I would never do that,” you argue, shooting him a playful eye-roll. “It just started a little earlier than usual, that’s all.”

As he pulls you against his side, Mark’s attention turns back to the shop’s menu again. “You’re just in time, I was just about to order,” he explains, scanning the list of drinks. “Jisung says the peanut butter cookies are coming out in a bit.”

No longer sidetracked by your boyfriend’s reaction, you glance over the counter just in time to spot Jisung now approaching with a fresh tray of your cookies, the barista looking nothing but amused at the way your face lights up at it. 

“Jisungie! Sorry for ignoring you!” you apologize, immediately extending a hand for a high-five. “Thank you for being my partner in crime just now, by the way.”

The boy laughs, reciprocating your motion with a satisfied nod. “That was really funny. I’ve never seen someone so scared over a hug before.”

“What about you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as Jisung frowns in confusion, pointing at himself for a second. “Did you ask that girl out already or what?”

Mark gasps at your side, a smile instantly growing on his face as he looks between you and Jisung. “What the—? Jisung likes someone? How come you’ve never told me? Who is it?”

“A girl from his class,” you explain to Mark, side-eyeing the boy with a giddy chuckle. “She’s really pretty and I’m 100% sure that she likes him back.”

“How do you know?”

“—I don’t think she does.”

As Mark and Jisung speak at the same time, you can’t help a laugh, the pair exchanging shocked glances with each other. 

“He showed me some of her texts,” you clarify, giving the blushing boy a pointed look. “I know the signs of an interested girl because I’ve been one too, you know. She definitely likes him too.”

Your boyfriend frowns, offering you a hesitant look. “I... don’t think I realized you were interested in me through your texts, though.”

“Our story is more complicated than this, I was basically crushing on you before even knowing who you were,” you counter, rolling your eyes at the grin growing on Mark’s face. “Besides, you haven’t seen the way she looks at him, baby.”

Looking nothing but betrayed, Mark feigns a pained look. “ You’ve already met her and I’m only hearing about this now?”

“It was an accident,” Jisung interrupts rushedly, offering an apologetic look at your boyfriend. “It wasn’t really a meeting, she was just around studying for her test—”

“Studying for her test here, instead of the university’s library,” you point out, grinning as the barista groans, having heard your argument a million times by now. “It’s not a coincidence she chose to study here out of all places after you specifically told her you worked here, Ji.”

Mark suddenly whistles after a second, both you and Jisung turning to him. 

As he raises an eyebrow at the boy, your boyfriend nods solemnly, almost as if he’s had a sudden epiphany. “Damn. She likes you, dude.”

The sound of the door interrupts the conversation, startling Jisung into work mode again as a couple of clients enter the shop. 

Watching in amusement as the barista knowingly prepares your favorite cookies to-go before rushing around between the drinks and taking Mark’s card, soon enough you’re bidding him goodbye, under his shy promise of asking his girl out until your next visit.

Outside, Mark immediately holds his hand out as he falls into step beside you. “Hey, I forgot to ask you how’d you know I was here.”

“Johnny,” you answer, chuckling at the look of realization that settles on his face. “I called him earlier, said that I wanted to surprise you but didn’t know the time you’d leave work.”

“So that’s why he was being so weird today,” he says, shaking his head with a chuckle. “He kept asking me when I was leaving, I almost thought he was mad at me or something.”

“Sorry.” You grimace, giving him a half-hearted grin before squeezing his hand. “I’ll ask Hyuck next time, then.”

Mark rolls his eyes, still smiling. “That’s just worse for both of us, you’re better off with Johnny.”

At the mention of his friends, he shares a few tidbits of work while you walk home—the girl Johnny accidentally ended up scooping at a bar is doing wonders as their newest artist, Jaehyun’s concert at a big venue in California sold-out in a few hours, and Haechan’s just... doing Haechan things, apparently having roped his girlfriend into an impromptu trip to Las Vegas.

Everything feels like second nature when you finally step into the building. At the elevator, Mark presses the button for his floor without a second thought, too occupied with the way you’re cozied up against his side. 

Now that you’re more than familiar with his apartment, you feel welcomed almost as if it’s your own.

Sometimes, it’s funny to think that the place was a mystery to you once, holding the very secret that ultimately led Mark into your life. Very few things have changed since then—his vinyls and CDs are still filling every inch of the shelves, instruments propped at every corner, a few figurines here and there. 

A little guilty for leaving your own stuff around too, your boyfriend might now also have piles of books in addition to his albums, too much make-up products in his vanity and a pair or two of heels now forgotten somewhere between his sneakers.

As Mark unlocks the door, holding it open as you step into the hallway, a soft laugh escapes from his lips. “We were matching today.”

Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you pause mid-step inside. “What?”

He gestures down at your feet, toeing his own shoes off with a playful look on his face. “Our shoes were matching today.”

Following Mark’s eyes, your confusion immediately shifts to amusement at the sight of your identical Converses, earning a laugh from you. “Are we becoming one of those couples?”

“I mean, we could,” he teases, settling his shoes neatly at the rack before a grin tugs at his lips. “Are we going full outfits next time?”

You snort playfully, taking his hand for balance while slipping out of your own shoes. ”Please, that would be just you copying me, baby.”

Mark nods, sighing to hold back a smile when you coo at his pouty, sulky expression. “Alright, I see how it is.”

As you pull him into the living room, shoes and jackets properly settled, something else catches your attention before you can tease Mark again—on the coffee table, rests a copy of your latest read, the book’s familiar cover unmistakable to your eyes as you reach for it.

Your eyebrows knit together while you flick through the pages for a moment. “I could’ve sworn this book was at my place?” you say, looking up at your boyfriend in doubt. “Did I leave it here?”

A timid smile pulls at his lips, Mark quickly tossing the keys onto the counter alongside the café’s bag before approaching you. “You didn’t leave it here.”

“I don’t get it.” You frown confusedly, blinking at him. “Are you sure I didn’t leave it here? There’s so many of my books around here now—”

He shakes his head, interrupting gently. “I bought this one, actually.”

“You bought it?” you repeat, a little too dazed at the missing dots. “Why? I could’ve given you mine, if you wanted.”

“We were kinda reading at the same time?” Mark starts, chuckling sheepishly at the way your face changes at his explanation. “You were so excited about it the other day, so I thought I could... you know, read it so I can know what you’re talking about.”

You blink, fingers tightening around the book as warmth spreads through your chest. “Mark...” you mutter, voice softer. “Are you serious?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugs lightly. “It’s no big deal, I just thought it’d be fun to see what’s got you so hooked.”

Caught in between amusement and endearment at his attentiveness, you give Mark a look before fisting his t-shirt, pulling him closer to press a kiss to his lips. With his arms closed around your waist, you resist pulling away for a moment, a sound of protest escaping from your lips once Mark breaks away for a breath.

As he exhales, a flustered chuckle slips through. “Man, you’re definitely killing me one of these days.”

You burst into laughter at his unexpected reaction, escaping from his hold before heading off to the kitchen with a grin at his direction. “I’m hungry now! What are we choosing for dinner?”

Bending the Friday rules over your sudden request, the scent of take-out soon fills the living-room as Mark sets the bags on the coffee table. With the cookies saved for later, both of you settle on the couch, sharing bites of each other’s choices between bits of conversation.

With both of you sharing an unconscious routine, it doesn’t take long until the TV is playing the latest episode of a show you’re currently watching together, Mark indulging your cookies whenever you feed him one in between sips of your lukewarm coffees after dinner.

In the brief pause between the episodes, you suddenly turn around to look at him, almost pouting when pulling back from his arms holding you close. “Why are you so quiet out of a sudden?” 

Seemingly surprised, Mark’s eyes widen for a second before he chuckles awkwardly. “Am I?”

“You’re not even reacting to my little comments,” you start, voice somewhere between confusion and curiosity. “You haven’t laughed at all during the last episode. What’s wrong, baby?”

As he smiles at the nickname, fingers tenderly brushing your cheek, Mark exhales. “I was just thinking... we could talk for a bit?”

The words are all you need to turn off the TV, focusing on him as you sit up. “I’m all ears, Mark Lee.”

He can’t help laughing at the way you say it, reaching for your hand before pressing a kiss to it. “You’re such a dork, sometimes,” Mark teases, shaking his head. “It’s nothing crazy... I think.”

“Well, now I’m curious,” you answer, frowning despite your amusement. “I hope you’re not breaking up with me right now. Are you?”

Though there’s not a single doubt about Mark’s commitment to your relationship in your mind, the quip is mostly to break your boyfriend out of his own mind. Johnny always says he’s come a long way from being an absolute overthinker, but being the naturally sensible, critical person that he is, Mark still hangs onto his thoughts every now and then. 

His face falls for a second at your words, eyes widening in panic. “Fuck no, baby, no way,” he counters, squeezing your hand harder with a pleading look. “I’m not breaking up with you, sorry if I gave you that impression.”

You smile at his puppy eyes, resisting the urge to kiss him by intertwining your fingers instead. “If you’re not planning to break up with me, then...”

“You move in with me,” Mark says, a hint of concern briefly flashing in his eyes over your expression, a mix of shock and something else he doesn’t seem to catch on. “It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“Mark, I want to,” you interrupt right away, not resisting pressing a quick kiss to his lips over the endearing relief on his face. “Obviously I want to... but are you sure about it?”

“I’m sure, baby.” He nods firmly, huffing a quiet laugh before taking a look around the living room. “It doesn’t need to be my apartment, though. I can bring my stuff down to yours, if you want.”

“We can decide that with a Halli Galli match,” you joke, laughing at his groan before glancing knowingly at him. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

With a chuckle, Mark runs a hand through his hair,  looking a little taken aback. “A few months, give or take,” he answers, a sigh following. “You’ve been leaving some of your stuff around whenever you sleep over and I... didn’t mind it. It actually felt like I was coming home to you even when you weren’t here, you know?”

There’s nothing that can stop you from jumping on him, your lips kissing every inch of his face as Mark laughs, wrapping his arms around you before falling on his back against the couch. Between a few kisses to his mouth and a few more to his face, you might’ve struggled a little bit to pull back from him.

As both of you sit up again, your arms wrap his shoulders in final a hug. “You belong in a love song, Mark.” 

“That’s a yes, right?” Mark suddenly asks, hands immediately cupping your face as soon you pull away from the embrace, his cheeks still flushed from your words. “Are we really doing this?”

The familiarity isn’t lost on you, a smile growing on your face. With your heart still full and completely assured, there’s no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

[calitears]

sessions

2. iconic duo

story masterlist

tw/notes: cursing, drinking/smoking, drug/alcohol mention, unserious itafushi (?), sexual jokes mentioned

“aren’t you gonna be cold though?” maki asked leaning back on your bed

“but the jacket ruins the point of the outfit, doesn’t it?”

she sighed and looked over her glasses at where you were standing in front of the mirror, “throw on a red one then, red and yellow were already a choice to begin with.”

fake pouting at her you just went ahead and laid down next to her. “it’s just having fun- it’s not even obnoxiously red and yellow! i made it cute,” you sighed dramatically, looking up at her, “don’t push it, i’m still mad you’re not coming with us, who’s gonna be the one degrading the nasty guys that approach us?”

she just rolled her eyes and flicked your forehead in response, “don’t sit here and act like you aren’t capable of being evil.” she stood up from the bed, tugging your arm, “c’mon, i’ve got this red jacket you can take, might even do the outfit a favor, red baby tee and those shorts aren’t enough even if you made cute, you’re still gonna get hypothermia when walking outside.”

you followed her sitting up, letting her take you to her room to dig for the jacket, “if you had decided to go we could’ve been needy and jennifer…”

“aw, well that’s too bad.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

you wandered through the crowded living space, bright colored lighting shading the walls and furnitures. you dragged toge to where yuji had texted you he was, panda following shortly behind you both, wearing some cheap dollar store blonde wig after you both decided to include him into the ‘duo’ by making him juno’s best friend leah. some people gave you weird looks when seeing the taped bowl under your friend’s shirt resembling a ‘stomach’, but most were caught up in there own worlds.

once you reached the dinning room it was hard to miss the guy’s pink hair, wearing some variation of a tyler durden fit. he was leaning against the table smiling, the round sunglasses sliding down his nose as he seemed to examine something on the table, only to look up when he felt your finger flick against his shoulder. his smile only getting brighter once he took in you and toge’s outfits.

“y/n! wait- you guys actually did it-!” he exclaimed.

“heyyyy- you look great! fight club-” you started only to be cut off by him bringing his finger up to his lips. “first rule, never talk about about fight club.”

you just rolled your eyes, watching him bring his attention to toge next. “hey, this is our friend panda,” he said, pointing to the obvious.

“awesome! i love panda’s!” he exclaimed, turning back to you for a moment before he forgot. “oh hey- remind me one of my friends wanted to meet you, she started listening to you and said she’s a fan!”

“always up for meeting a hot girl,” but as yuji moved out the way, you caught sight of the guy who had been standing behind him.

white button up with a ‘hello my name is’ sticker on it, black pants, loosened tie and fake busted lip and nose, the blood drawn on with what’d you guess was some kind of lipstick or colored makeup pencil. No doubt as the narrator and the other half of yuji’s pair, but holy shit was he hot.

“oh yeah- hey this is my no heart ex-roomate-” yuji started only to get slapped on the back of his head.

“Fushiguro, nice meeting you…”

outside the studio…

debated making megumi and yuji ennis and jack but i alr made a reference 1st chap had to limit myself

megumi stole nobara’s lipstick to draw the blood on in the car and was jumpscared when she got into the passenger seat

toge went around and kept rubbing his stomach and telling everyone y/n was the father

yuji was looking down at the table at a printed out minion meme someone that was a fan had given him

yuta and maki went to go watch nosferatu together, maki kept thinking ‘trench coat buttoned up to the TOP”

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[loving-family-poll]

Omg we can send you weirdcest confessions? I have a little classic codependent dynamic with my younger brother which might tickle some people.

Soooo, I moved half way across the country many years ago because prior to that I had been sharing a 1 room apartment (a bed too but very kosher I promise, rent is just expensive) with my brother for years as I pushed him to finish highschool and start college classes and just looked out for him so that he didn't get lost in the shuffle when my parents divorced because he was the youngest.

The thing is that by the time he was an adult, I never wanted to give him up. Like, if we could go to old age as a duo, I would have been happy. I had a lot of angst that I wouldn't let him mature so I did something weird and dramatic - I moved the fuck across the country, pretty much dropped out of his life just when he had reached adulthood and left him.

It was kind of a stone cold thing to do, but I moved in with someone I was dating online and went through a whole relationship till that ended. On the other hand, it was none too soon because at that point he kept trying to share his porn collection with me and mentally I was like, dude, i know this trope, I invented it.

tbh he really missed me so much and vice versa. I think both of us experienced a level of loneliness we never would have felt if I hadn't just arbitrarily decided it was bad if I let us stay co-dependent. I don't really know if it was justified. The few times we visited each other over the years, we basically just cuddled and missed each other and moped about being sad.

But it worked? He stuck like glue to a large group of friends and even started dating one of them, the girl who would eventually become his fiance.

This woman. I hated her for years. I thought she was terrible for him. She was too attractive and too cool tempered and too intelligent, and I just thought she was going to break his heart eventually. But, somehow they worked out, and when I moved back to my hometown she lured me in like a scared alley cat by making me feel welcome in the gentlest of ways, never overwhelming, an introvert's overture to another introvert.

My brother and I used to mildly flirt with each other pretty often as a joke, and he still does, although I try not to encourage it. It's a little too on the nose, right? If you scratch me, I bleed incest fandom. But these days its usually his fiance making jokes that I should be the filling in a them sandwhich (sit between them) because they want to "share me" My brother's fiance is ace or I would be a lot more freaked out about that tbh. I think they just both like to make me blush, which I can't blame them for.

NGL, I think she is pleased to have achieved two brothers for the price of one.

I thank god she is ace, because she is a menace - in one afternoon she will ask me to lather her back with sunscreen, invite me to check out at her bottom (for ticks) and cheerfully command me to smack her boob (there was a fly,) all while my brother is there watching and laughing as I flounder in queer panic.

In a more concrete fashion, they want me to move in with them when they buy their house and cosign on it and everything. So I guess I am getting what I wanted, but it's a trio instead of a duo.

Bruh I think they want to fuck you

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 35 - All Blends 6

Summary: Shanks and Mihawk re-familiarize themselves with you and get interrupted

Warnings: Smut Ahead!

Peppermint Tea Masterlist -> HERE

“I guess all it takes for you to admit your feelings is a life-threatening situation, huh, Mihawk,” Shanks teases, and Mihawk turns to glare over his shoulder at the redhead. You can’t help but laugh, finally feeling at ease with your boys after the admission of love and the easy way that Shanks poked fun at the other man. 

“Be quiet, Red,” Mihawk grumbled and then focused back on you. You can see the amusement that dances in his ringed gaze, “We’re having a moment.” 

Shanks scoffs, lips pulling up in a pout, “Ugh, can’t even wait for me. So selfish. I’m a part of this too, Hawkeye.” 

Mihawk rolls his eyes, “Do you hear anything, love? Because I don’t.”

You laugh again, cheeks hurting from how widely you are smiling. It felt wonderful to be surrounded by them again. You had missed their scathy attitudes and harness banter. You reach out, winding your arms around Mihawk’s neck, and pull him in for a much-needed kiss, lips moving against his own as you sag against the warlord. You feel Shanks slide up behind you, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your neck, peppering your flesh with little kitten kisses that make you shiver. 

“I love you, too, Shanks,” You assure the redhead when Mihawk allows you up from the kiss. You lean back to rest your weight against the man behind you, sighing in relief when the distribution of weight makes your feet ache less. You look down when a hand curls around your stomach, heart softening at the sight. 

“How’s snowflake?” Shanks asks quietly, and you can’t help but huff at the nickname. 

“She’s doing good. Won’t be much longer until we get to meet her.” 

Both men catch on to your pronoun usage and share a look over your head. Mihawk had already heard this from you before, but Shanks hadn’t. The redhead turns you around with a careful hand and then drops to his knees, pressing his cheek to your stomach and grinning when he is kicked in the face for his troubles, “Well, she’s strong already, just like her daddies.” 

You smile, hand dropping down to thread your fingers through his hair, gently tugging the strands this way and that as you play with them. Mihawk wraps his arms around your middle, long fingers spread wide on either side of your stomach. He can’t help but the tiny smile that curls his lips when he feels the movement inside. 

“We need to find you a reliable doctor, darling. Nothing but the best for you,” He murmurs. They’ve talked about this before, and giving birth to your child had been the only thing that would have gotten you off your island, “How far along do you think you are?” 

You shiver when Shanks rusks your shirt up, pressing kisses to the underside of your stomach, and your grip tightens warningly in his hair. As much as you wanted your boys to lavish you with attention, you’ve had a very long, very stressful month away from your home and even longer away from them. You wanted a scalding shower and then to lay down with them wrapped around you. 

“Around 34 weeks, I think? Like I said, it won’t be much longer.” 

Shanks and Mihawk share another look, the redhead’s eyes wide as he slowly pulls away, though he keeps his hand tucked close, “Then we should hurry. Crocus will be able to take care of you.”

Mihawk frowns and licks his lips in thought, “He is at the very beginning of the Grand Line. Do you think you could get us there in time?” 

It’d taken Shanks three weeks and some odd days to make it from your island to Whole Cake, and that had been with him taking shortcuts. Mihawk didn’t think it would be possible for them to get to the lighthouse keeper before it was time for you to give birth. They could contact the Straw Hats, but neither man was ready to see Zoro or Luffy right now, nor did Mihawk think that the little raccoon dog had enough experience to help them. They could contact Marco the Phoenix, but last they heard, the man had holed himself off on Sphinx Island, but that was at least closer than Crocus. 

“Marco?” Shanks suggests. He would trust the other man with his most valuable treasure, and trust him to keep his mouth shut about why they needed him. No one needed to know that Shanks now had two weaknesses out there. The same could be said for the warlord. 

Mihawk purses his lips. He didn’t have as much experience with the other man, but they didn’t have a lot of options right now, “He’ll do.” 

You grunt suddenly, brows furrowing when you are kicked in the spleen, and decide that you are ready for your shower now, thank you very much. 

“I want it steaming,” you demand after they have detached themselves from you, and Shanks has left to go start the shower for you. The redhead sends you a lazy salute, a grin on his lips as he lopes away to do as you ask. Mihawk reaches for your shirt, carefully pulling the bright garment off your head and tossing it behind him. His eyes rake over your exposed front once you are bare to him, and his hand finds one of your perky breasts, cupping it gently and smoothing his thumb over a perked nipple. 

You hiss at the feeling, heat pooling between your legs, and Mihawk gives you a playful smirk before he does it again. Your toes curl in your socks, knees feeling like jelly just from the simple touch. 

“So sensitive, from the pregnancy, no doubt,” He murmurs and raises his other hand to cup your free breast, gently pushing against your nipple. Your hands find his shirt, teeth bared in pleasure as you grip the fabric tightly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You jump when you feel lips pressed against the middle of your back, and then a hot tongue laving at the thin skin just below your ear, and know that Shanks has come back from the bathroom. 

“Boys,” you whine quietly, and have to bite your lip to keep yourself from making any more embarrassing sounds, “Please.” 

Shanks grins against your throat, hand dipping low to dance his fingertips just above the panties you still wear, “Please what, baby? Please stop. Or please keep going?” 

He knows what he’d like to do. He wants you on your back, legs spread so that he could bury his face in your cunt and show you just how much he’d missed you. Mihawk is having similar thoughts, though he wants to see you atop him, hovering over him with his cock buried inside your pussy as you seek pleasure from him. 

You curse them both softly, bottom lip throbbing from how harshly you have bitten it, and crack your eyes open to meet molten golden eyes that are watching your every move. He gives you a small, teasing grin, tilting his head to the side with a soft hum. His thumbs massage your breasts, pressing and dragging along your nipples, and his voice is husky when he speaks, “Use your words, dear one. You must tell us what you want.” 

KA-BOOM!

The moment is shattered by the sound of cannon fire, and it is a good thing that you were stuck between the two men, or you would have fallen to the floor. Their haki spills forth, lashing and whipping like a hurricane, but you have never been safer sandwiched between them. Shanks pulls away, grabbing up your shirt and Mihawk takes it from him to slide it over your shoulders. 

“I’ll stay here, you go and find out who’s attacking us,” Mihawk orders and the redhead disappears after giving both of his treasures a quick kiss. You watch him leave, your heart in your chest as you look back at Mihawk. 

“It’s Big Mom, isn’t it?” 

The warlord leads you over to a chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of your chair, “Most likely, love. Shanks will deal with them, so do not worry.” 

You smile at your lover and take the hand that he offers you, “I know he will. I know that you’ll keep me safe, too.” 

Behind them, the door is ripped open and Perona comes stumbling in, Hank and Sukuna trailing behind her. Hank whines and drops low when another cannon goes off, crawling forward so that he lays under your chair. Sukuna takes up the spot in your lap, glaring at the warlord until Mihawk huffs and rises from his crouch. 

“Shanks looked pissed,” Perona comments and throws herself into a free chair. She had passed the redhead on the way to the captain’s quarters and had spotted the murderous look on his face. 

The warlord huffs a laugh and shares a look with you, “I’m sure he is.” 

Topside, Shanks glared at the approaching ships. There were three of them, all gaudy with bright colors and big sails. They obviously came from Big Mom, the woman most likely furious after finding out that he and Mihawk had found you, and he wondered which one of her children had cried wolf to her over Katakuri’s actions. 

“Yasoop, take out their main sails,” Shanks ordered his second mate, and the Red Force shook in answer. The captain watched in vicious satisfaction as a single cannonball sailed through the air and hit the main sail’s mast on the ship to the right. It tilted dangerously and then fell, hitting the foremast and causing the massive sails to fold into one another. The ship veered to the right and hit the vessel next to it, puncturing the stern and causing water to flood the inside of the second ship.

A tailwind catches the last ship and launches it forward, bringing it close enough to the Red Force that Shanks could see the terrified looks on the pirates faces when they realized who they had chased after. Shanks unleashes his haki, flaring it to the point that places on his own ship splintered and cracked as he step forward. The redhead stands on the railing at the bow, and once the other vessel is close enough, Shanks launches himself forward, sword drawn and intent to kill. 

Big Mom’s ship crumbles under his will, wood splintering, and the pirates hit the deck with a dazed look upon their faces. Shanks arches his sword up, and it comes crashing down with a boom, severing the vessel in half like a hot knife through butter. He listens to the pirates scream and plead, but it all falls on deaf ears. They had signed their death warrant the second they thought that they could even try and take you away from him. 

Once the commotion seems to have died down, Mihawk leads the way up to the deck, and you take in the destruction with wide eyes. You’d yet to see what your boys could do with the power that practically bleeds from them, but it was still more than you expected. You find yourself blushing, and shift your weight, not having expected that the sight of their strength would turn you on so much. 

You shove the feeling down for now and look around for your redheaded lover, and laugh when you find him standing in the very tip of the stern of the sinking ship, hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and a smug look painting his face. Benn swings the Red Force closer to the wreckage and Shanks leaps up and back on the deck, loping over to you and sweeping you up for a kiss that takes your breath away. 

“Took care of ‘em,” Shanks says, and then notices the way your face is still flushed with arousal. He grins down at you like the pirate he is and then looks up to meet Mihawk’s gaze, winking at the other man as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. He cuts his eyes at Benn, and his first mates nod at him. 

“I'll get us out of here, Captain,” Benn assures him and then you are shuffled back down below deck, Mihawk following close behind the two of you. Once behind closed doors, Shanks pulls you to the bed where he snags your waistband and tugs your pants down, gently pushing you back on the bed after he drops them to the floor. You look at him with wide, desire-filled eyes, lip wrapped between your teeth in anticipation. 

You watch as Mihawk toes off his boots and coat before he climbs behind you on the bed, those golden eyes molten and heavy as he stares down at you. He pulls you further up the bed, your back resting against his chest as Shanks shuffles forward until your legs drape over his shoulders. You shiver when he smooths his hand up your exposed tight, leaning forward to press a kiss to your sensitive flesh, a smirk on his lips as he flicks his eyes up at you.

“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart. I saw that look in your eyes on deck. Didn't think you would like that kinda thing.” 

You flush and look away from Shanks, but a hand on your cheek turns you back to face the redhead. Mihawk strokes his thumb along your jaw, blunt nails gently scraping against your skin. 

“Well… it's new to me, too,” you mutter and feel their warlord chuckle behind you. 

“Nothing wrong with that, love. Red is quite striking when he wants to be,” Dracule rumbles and you give a distracted nod, eyes already eating up the way Shanks leans in to kiss up your thighs, tongue darting out to delve under the seam of your panties. He trails kisses up the fabric, humming when he notices the damp patch that only grows larger the longer he continues his teasing. 

Shanks slips his thumb under the elastic, tugging it lightly until you lift your hips and he can slip them off of you, and he grins when your cunt is finally exposed to him. You suck in a sharp breath when Mihawk gathers your arms and slides them up and around his neck, urging you to lock your fingers together. His hands delve under your shirt, one hand splaying over your stomach and the other cupping a swollen breast, fingers tweaking a peaked nipple. 

A soft curse falls from your lips at the touch, and you can't help but shift your hips, feeling greedy for the touch of both of your lovers after so long apart. You had tried once to pleasure yourself while they'd been gone, but you had gotten so frustrated when you couldn't because your touch wasn't near as good as theirs. You'd lain there, tears streaming down your face and stomach cramping with arousal for a long time, missing your boys. 

Your despondent thoughts are cut off when Shanks leans forward and licks between your folds, a gasp tearing from your throat and your eyes snapping down to watch the redhead. Shanks groans, eyes shuttering at finally being able to taste you again after so long. He licks up your cunt again, pushing forward to bury his face between your legs, lips kissing and sucks your folds and up to your clit until you are a whining mess. Your legs clench around his head, dragging Shanks even closer and he lifts his arm to wrap around your thigh, keeping you still when your hips jump. 

Mihawk watches with heavy eyes, his cock hard and aching in his pants. He wants to feel your cold hands wrap around his length, feel your mouth swallow him down until you're choking and teary eyed, but that would have to wait. Right now all of this was for you. You'd been alone so long, had become so spoiled from their touch and attention that you had to be pent up, and he wasn't wrong. You changed their names like a mantra, moans and huffs spilling from between your lips like the most lovely song. The warlord couldn't get enough. 

It doesn't take much more before you are wailing in their arms, pussy fluttering and coating Shanks’ face in slick as you come on his tongue. Your voice is rough, curses and hisses falling from your lips when Shanks snakes his hand between your legs, thumb dragging along your folds and pushing them apart so that he can drink you down like a man lost in the desert. He keeps going, tongue sliding through the cream that coats your folds and up to your clit when he gently teases the throbbing bud with the tip of his tongue. 

“Shanks- honey, please,” you whine and jerk your arms, but Mihawk keeps them pinned with ease, a mean smile on his lips as he leans forward to press them against your neck. 

“What's wrong, darling?” He coos softly, and pinches your nipple, delighted by the sound that you make, “Is it too much?” 

You jerk your head in a nod, lips raw from being bitten, head feeling heavy with endorphins as you try to weakly shift away from Shanks. The redhead isn't stopping though, not until he had his fill. 

He shifts his hand, his index finger circling your entrance before gently pressing inside and groaning at the soft heat that clenches around it. Shanks wants to bury his cock inside you and never leave, wants to feel you pulse and shiver around him while he fills you up with his seed. The sight of you rounded with their child already ignited a need so great that Shanks thought it might ruin him, and he thinks he would keep you this way if he could. 

Mihawk strokes his hand over your stomach, up to the other breast when he pinches and rolls both of your nipples between his fingers, mouth leaving behind open-mouth kisses along your neck. His voice is airy, full of want and devotion when he speaks. 

“You'll never send us away again, right, angel? We're everything that you will ever need, no one else will ever make you feel the way we do.” 

You nod wildly, eyes filling with tears as their touch doesn't let up. Your cunt feels over-sensitive and raw, folds puffy from Shanks’ stubble and the way he delves two of his fingers into you over and over. The pace is maddening, the feel of his tongue stroking your clit too much, the rough pads of Mihawk’s fingers on your nipples electrifying. 

“N-never again. Can't live without you,” you stumble through your words, vision going blurry as tears spill down your cheeks. You are overwhelmed with pleasure and the knowledge that you are surrounded by your boys, and it's seconds later that you come undone for the second time, clenching around Shanks’ fingers and coming with a tired whine. 

Mind blank, you feel yourself being released and then positioned to lay down on the bed, and then two warm bodies shifting to lay on either side of you in the too-small bed. You snuggle up to the closest chest, and Shanks snickers when you bury your face against him. Mihawk tosses his arm across both of you, hand on the redhead's hip and keeping you trapped between them. You feel content and jelly-legged for the first time in over a month, so relaxed that it doesn't take long for you to pass out with a sleepy I love you. 

The two men share a look over your head, and both quietly agree that after today, all of you deserve to have a good night's rest. They would wake tomorrow and see about getting into contact with Marco, but for now, they would rest with their treasure tucked secured between them.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom @mfreedomstuff @caniseethefourthsword @olenoname @glitterystarfishfestival

[toxycodone]

you should most definitely do a ‘dad’ curly body inspection fic,,, I mean whart who said that…

ship. captain curly x favorite crewmate reader

cw. power imbalance, fauxcest, you call curly “dad” but he’s not your dad.

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, really. You know Curly would brush off any protest from you. Anya’s busy with something. Apparently Daisuke slipped, fell, almost sent a nail straight through his foot—you didn’t pay much attention to the excuse. What followed after was what caught your favor.

“And to help her avoid getting behind schedule, I offered to conduct your body inspection in Nurse Anya’s place.”

You remember yours eyes widening in disbelief. It seemed like a joke at first. A weird one at that, but not something you’d put behind him.

“Guess you should call me Nurse Curly, huh?” He winks to punctuate the sentence.

And so it wasn’t a joke.

You’re here now. In his quarters, of all places. It’s definitely bigger than the broom closet Pony Express is legally obligated to provide you with as room and board, but not much so. Definitely less than captain-like.

“So,” He claps his hands together, smile bright as ever. “Shall we get started?”

Your captain’s eyes are bright, shining with enthusiasm. The predatory gleam that hides beneath them doesn’t go unmissed.

You simply nod. You’ve been here before, done this before. Anya’s inspections aren’t extremely invasive. Mainly just to ensure you’re in proper working order. Pony Express doesn’t take any chances when it comes to personal health as they want to avoid lawsuits, but also, any notation you’re unable to complete your tasks gives them excuse to dock credits.

They’re a necessary part of your routine health checkups. Nothing to be afraid of. Honestly, having Curly conducting it is good, right? Maybe even better than Anya, when you really think about it. He’s the most trustworthy one on the ship. The one who’s almost like family. It still feels awkward calling him dad the way he likes, but it’s starting to grow on you. You can trust him. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“This is just a routine checkup. Don’t think too hard about it.” He’s putting on those blue latex gloves. He must be serious about this. “I know it’s unorthodox for me to conduct this, but it’s a favor for Anya. Captain’s gotta fill in to keep this ship running properly, y’know?”

You hums in agreement. He takes a few steps forward. You never really realized just how large Curly is. His presence is imposing, a stark contrast from his personality. The sheer closeness of him is intimating. You wonder if he notices that too.

He then asks for you to take off your shirt. You oblige. Hesitation shoots through your fingertips, but it’s brushed away by a shake of the head. This is typical. Routine. With shaky fingers, you relinquish the garment.

Curly seems to drink in the sight of the newly exposed skin. Or is he just studying it? Doing his job? That’s it.

Your captain seems to notice the way you shuffle awkwardly under his gaze. He places a hand on your shoulder, giving you a comforting smile.

“It’s okay to be embarrassed. I know it’s awkward, but it’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod. Then he steps closer, curiously eyeing your chest. His hands reach out to touch you, only hesitating for a split second, before ghosting up your ribcage. You hold back and noises. Anya touches you too, this isn’t odd, per se. However, it’s usually with you lying on a medical bed. And with a medical gown on, at least.

She also doesn’t smile in satisfaction like that. Your eyes don’t linger on Curly’s face long.

He has the audacity to be demure at first, maiming some guise that this contact is supposed to be professional. His hands prod your sides, then your stomach area.

“Is there any pain when I touch you here?” Finally, there’s a line ripped from Anya’s script. “Or any pain elsewhere I should be aware of?”

You shake your head, then give a brief answer. Curly nods, then moves to take a couple notes on the clipboard set on at his desk.

There’s a sense of relief at the back of your mind, happy he’s taking this seriously.

He moves on. Now Curly’s hand move up your ribcage again, cupping your chest, thumbs stroking over your areolas and nipples—causing them to harden at the contact.

Your cheeks flush. Good God, your captain should not be touching you like this. Anya has never done this. And you shouldn’t be fucking enjoying it, either. You jump when he gives one a flick.

Curly seems to notice this. He lets out a soft chuckle.

“Seems your reflexes are in good shape.”

Well, there goes any notion that this is purely professional. He gives a last squeeze to your chest, then removes his hands. Curly takes a couple steps back, then starts to circle around you.

“Your pants.” He makes the request almost sheepishly. “Can’t keep those on, unfortunately…” You want believe his shyness, that he wants to preserve your modesty, but he just can’t. It’s out of his hands. But that would be too obvious a lie.

You shuffle those off too. His presence is behind you now, his eyes definitely glued to your ass and thighs. He is, however, scribbling something down on a clipboard. So he has to be doing some sort of work, right?

“Underwear, too.”

Wait. What?

You glance over your shoulder at him, brow raised in confusion. This isn’t part of routine, and you’re not dumb enough to fall for it. Curly’s still standing there, smiling as if he didn’t say anything remotely weird.

“Just being thorough.” He answers before you can ask. “Do it for your captain’s sake? Please?”

Curly’s choice in words is particular. He doesn’t often feel the need to flex his title as captain, but he’ll pull rank when need be. This is one of those times. An indirect reminder of who’s the one with power here.

And so, you oblige. Fingers link under the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down. You’re exposed fully in front of him now. After a few seconds of silence (which you’re sure is spent by Curly committing your body to memory), he places a hand on your shoulder, urging you towards his neatly made bed.

“On the bed, please.”

You’re sat down before you can protest. Curly pushes you onto your back, slowly guiding your thighs open.

There? Of all places, he’s looking there? Panic shoots through you, and it’s not just because there’s a grown man taking advantage of his role getting on eye level with your pussy. It’s the fact he’s going to notice just how wet you are.

His pupils dilate when he gets full view of you. Your thighs are spread wide open by Curly’s thick, gloved fingers. They’re warm despite the barrier and press into the supple flesh. The way he grabs you is as if he’s trying to restrain himself.

Curiosity beckons him on. Still ensuring your thighs are pressed open, Curly allows one hand to delve between your thighs and explore.

He cups your mound with unexpected gentleness, relishing the warmth. You have to hold yourself back from grinding against his hand. Wetness leaks out of your hole at the contact. It’s sick. Totally embarrassing how you’re dying to felt up by your captain, as dubiously consenting as it is. You close your eyes, an attempt at avoiding any eye contact Curly might sneak in.

One thumb carefully traces up your slit. A breathy gasp is elicited from your lips. Curly’s own breathing, the only sound in the room you can make out aside from the ship’s constant humming, is shaky. His thumb gathers wetness without even needing to press into you. Your clit twitches at the contact, causing your hole to flutter, clenching around nothing.

God, you hope he notices. Hope he slides a finger in. Fuck all the professionalism, the way he tries to mask his feelings for you by constantly infantilizing your and calling you his family. You want to feel those thick digits spreading you open. Then his cock, which you’re sure is far more girthy. Maybe if you took him down to the base, rode him like he deserved, he’d see you for the grown up you really are. Could he still call you kiddo after you made him moan your name and milked him dry? You doubt it.

“Alright, I think we’re done here.” Curly retreats from your form, as if you suddenly combust into flames. “You can go now.”

Huh?

You snap from your fantasies, looking up at Curly. His broad back is facing you now, hunched over as he picks up your clothing. You’re clouded by a mix of feelings—relief, confusion, anticipation for more—but you start to dress as he asked. Something sits wrong in your stomach about all this, but you’re unsure if it’s nausea or butterflies.

“I think we’re all done here. I’m gonna write up that report for Anya.” He ushers you out of his quarters with a sense of urgency. The delusional part of you admires how serious he takes his work, but that unmistakeable tent in his pants alludes to this inspection being cut for less professional reasons.

“See you at dinner, kiddo.”

And you’re back in the hallway, left alone with your thoughts.