#and this one is relatively mild so it's just like i guess i have to deal with it

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

"pads are icky. it's like wearing a diaper." SHUT THE FUCK UP!! ik most of that talk came from the "cool girls" in the middle school gym locker room (yes, it's a core memory), but i only wear pads (unless absolutely necessary) and it's stuck with me for over a decade. ilke, i feel like i'm being gross every time i wear a pad :(

[venacesaur]

my hand is so weird. i've spent most of my life playing video games, including playing for hours at a time, playing button-intense fighting or rhythm games, gripping the controller way too tightly, and i've never injured my hand. but i play like 10 minutes of the stupid dappervolk typing minigame and then i injure my middle finger?? 😭i spent hours playing splatoon grand fest and i was fine. i just spent 3 hours drawing the day before and nothing happened. but this typing game....i give up

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[shixcherie]

I Really Like Your Body | Choi San ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 22 : Dry Humping

↬ [ Synopsis ] : A private gym room, an irresistibly handsome personal trainer San with his unsatible hunger to take you right then and there and a promise to show you the heights of ecstasy. Will you surrender to the temptation ?

☆Word Count : 2.9k ☆Genre : Smut, Angst, Suggestive, Personal Trainer Au, Non idol Au. ☆Pairing : Personal Trainer! San x F! Reader

☆☆☆WARNINGS : mdni!, Pure smut (18+), a lil bit of plot, mentions of weight gain, eating disorder and stress around gaining weight, angsty encounters in the gym, mild public sex ( its a gym! so ofc), neck kisses, nipple play, dry humping, suggestive, praise, pet names (our kitten San calling you kitten), unprotected sex ( be careful ppl).

NOTE : Heyaa loves, Day 22 story is here. Also I am Grinding hard to catchup as my exams had a chokehold on me so please show some love for this fic. Hope you enjoy the heck outta it ma chéries.

“Oh my god, babe, I'm so stressed!” you screamed, standing in front of the mirror as your eyes scanned your body.

“It’s just a teeny tiny bit of weight, hun. It’s not even that noticeable. You’re all good.” your best friend Yeji assured you, lying on the bed.

“And it’s not like the big event is gonna get canceled if you show up a little healthy, right?” Ryujin added, sounding a bit irritated after listening to you complain for over an hour about the small amount of weight you’d put on.

To be fair, Ryujin was right, the event wasn’t going to get canceled over this. But for you, it was a huge day, one where you wanted to look your absolute best. After all, it’s not every day that your whole family of 30, including distant relatives and cousins, comes together for such a big celebration. And that didn’t even include the friends who’d be there.

“If you’re really that worried, I can ask my cousin Hyunjin to hook you up with a personal trainer.” Yeji said, giving you a reassuring back hug and pulling you away from the mirror to stop you from stressing over your body.

“Yeah… I mean, you look absolutely adorable as you are, and you’re gonna crush that event, no doubt.” Ryujin added, giving your cheeks a playful squeeze. “But bitch! go ahead if that’s the only way you’ll stop whining my ears off!”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll go the personal trainer route… I really need it.” you replied. You loved your best friends for always having your back, supporting you through everything, and of course calling you out when you needed it.

“But for now, I’m famished. Let’s go get some tteokbokki!” Ryujin yelled, throwing her hands in the air as Yeji dragged you out the door, not giving you a chance to resist.

As promised, Hyunjin hooked you up with a personal trainer he’d worked with in the past. The trainer was supposed to meet you at your gym, Equinox, about ten minutes ago. Looks like he’s running a bit late.

A light tap on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see a tall, muscular man standing in front of you with a kittenish smile.

“Miss Y/n ?” he asks, a bit of hesitation in his eyes, as if making sure he’s got the right person.

“Yeah… umm… are you San ?” you say, standing up. He nods and gives a smile. A very cute smile.

“Hello, nice to meet you. I’ll be your personal trainer at your service ma’am… but I don’t see why you need a trainer. You seem perfectly in shape.” San says, extending his hand. You take it, smiling back.

“Nice to meet you too, San. It’s a long story, and you bet I’m gonna tell you, but for now, can we just jump into some light workouts ? I really need to get these thoughts out of my head.” you reply, trying to push the conversation along.

“Sure, we can.” With that, San guides you to the cardio machine for a warm-up, listening as you fill him in on everything from the big event coming up to your worries about gaining weight, and your past struggles with an eating disorder. San listens patiently, dropping small affirmations about body positivity here and there. Finally, he comes up with a tailored diet plan and workout schedule to help you manage your situation.

Still, he can’t help but wonder what this big event could be that has his beautiful, perfectly healthy client worrying so much.

The next day, San shows up at the gym with your diet plan and workout schedule. You scan the document he has handed you, and while you can definitely work with this diet despite your hectic schedule as the marketing head for your dad’s company, the weights in the workout schedule haunt you.

“Why do I have to lift weights, Saaannnnn?” you whine, pouting. As a child, you had a small accident with weights, which left you scarred for life.

“That’s the fastest way to get in shape,” San explains. “Given your body type and the time crunch we’re under… weights are the way to go, combined with all the other exercises.” He pauses, trying to reason with you and then adds, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you through it all.” as his warm hand gently caresses your back for reassurance.

As days pass, you settle into the routine San has planned for you. Starting your day with a healthy breakfast, accompanied by a big smoothie on your way to work, followed by a nutritious lunch and an afternoon walk, quickly becomes your routine. In the evening, after work, you’d meet San at the gym, where he would meticulously guide you through each workout, pushing you a little more every day and making sure you didn’t give up.

You warmed up to him easily, sharing childhood stories, pranks you’d both pulled on classmates, and tales of failed love affairs. You both talked about almost everything, connecting on a deeper level. You loved going to the gym, eagerly waiting for the clock to hit 7 p.m. so you could share your work stories with him.

San enjoyed your company too. He loved talking with you during each session which felt more like hanging out than working out. He adored how you pouted at the slightest discomfort, how your brows would scrunch as you lifted heavy weights, and how the sweat dripping down your body gave you an almost goddess-like glow. He loved how your workout set hugged your figure in all the right places, accentuating your beautiful curves. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way your chest filled out that tight Gymshark sports bra or the way his body responded each time you squatted, sending a hot thrill through him going straight down to his cock as his mind wandered to the filthiest fantasies of taking you right there against the weight machine.

Wow, wow, wow. What the hell am I thinking? She’s a client. Just a client, and I shouldn’t be thinking such filthy things about her. San pushed those thoughts out of his mind as he focused on you, holding you firmly in place as you did your sit-ups.

“Perfect! That’s 50! Now let’s do 20 more. San encouraged, smiling at you for hitting your goal and gently pushing you to do more.

“San! I’ll die if I do even one more sit-up.” you whined, giving him that cute pouty face that haunted him in the wet dreams he’d started having after meeting you.

“Just 20 more. Come on Y/n, you can do this. Just think of the big event, where everyone will be admiring your beautiful figure as you pass by them. And that’s only possible if you put in the hard work now.” he insisted, tapping your feet lightly to keep you going. With his hands locked so firmly on your legs, running away wasn’t an option, so you continued.

“Sixty-eight…sixty-nine… Just one more San, and I’m done.” You could see the cheeky grin on his face. You lowered yourself once more, then rose up for the final rep. “Seven-ty..” you managed to say, just as your lips accidentally brushed against San’s. You both froze, realizing how close your faces were. You could feel his breath fanning your face, and you waited for him to pull away. His eyes met yours, and what you saw in them told you he wasn’t planning to move back.

This isn’t right. He’s your trainer,your conscience warned, and you quickly pulled back, gulping and blinking the heat away. San’s hands remained firmly on your feet as he looked at you, his expression giving nothing away.

“L-Let’s get started with the ne-next one.” you stammered, and he nodded as you walked over to the cardio machine, trying to banish any dirty thoughts from your mind with San following close behind.

While you followed your usual routine on the treadmill, you could feel the tension thickening in the room. Your normally chatty trainer was unusually silent, his grip tightening around the machine bars as his eyes wandered from your head to toe. The way his gaze scanned your body made you feel hot all over again, so you tried to get him to speak to break the heavy silence that had fallen between you.

“How was your day, San ?” you asked, trying to stay composed given you still had an hour left on the schedule.

“Good.” he replied in a monotone voice, avoiding your eyes.

“Is that neighbor of yours still causing some ruckus ?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation open-ended, but his one-word answers were starting to annoy you.

“No.”

“How’s your mom ?”

“Good.”

“And your dog ?”

“Good.”

“Should we stop this ?”

“No— I mean, yes.” He finally replied, snapping back to reality as you both moved to the next workout. The most daunting one of all. The weights. Normally, San would guide you with his usual bubbly tone, easing you through each lift but today felt especially intimidating and with San's silent demeanor, you were not looking much forward to lifting.

Taking a deep breath, you moved to the weights. Getting into the right form, you lifted the heavy bar onto your shoulders and took your first squat. San stood close by... he usually stayed close to help when you struggled, but today he was a tiny bit extra close. As you stood up from the squat, your ass brushed against his crotch and you could feel his hardening member against you, sending goosebumps all over your body.

Setting the weight back on the stand, you finally spoke, “San, I think we should stop... I’mgonna go home. Not really feeling well.” you said, turning to leave.

“Y/n, wait... umm… we’re not done. Let’s finish the weights.” he urged, following you as you packed your bag on the couch.

“I… I’m not really feeling well, San… umm…” you tried to excuse your way out of the situation, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry… are you leaving because of me ?” he asked, stepping closer, leaving only inches between you. His hands slowly snaked around your waist as your eyes locked with his.

“Yes… I mean, no! I— we shouldn’t do this.” you stammered, your voice low though his grip tightened around your waist, making it clear he wasn’t letting go. You tried to speak again, squirming slightly in his hold. “San… I-I… We..we—” but he cut you off, his lips hovering close to yours as your gaze flicked between his eyes and his inviting mouth.

“Please…” he murmured, brushing his soft lips against the corner of your mouth. “...stay.”

That was it. It was as if a switch flipped in your mind, and you captured his lips, urgency and hunger taking over you. He matched your passion as his hand cradling the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Your hands gripped his arms, feeling the strength as he deepened the kiss, each movement full of supressed hunger. His lips were warm and soft moving with a rhythm that sent your heart racing. You tugged at his hair, feeling him groan softly against your lips before he drew you in deeper, his hand slipping to the small of your back to pull you close.

His tongue teased the curve of your bottom lip coaxing a moan as you opened for him. He explored slowly, savoring each second, his fingers trailing up your spine to hold you steady while his touch ignited sparks that tingled through every nerve. Just as breathless as you, he paused with his forehead resting against yours, eyes dark with longing. His thumb brushed your cheek as he murmured, “I didn’t plan this... but I don’t want to stop. Ask me to stop and I’ll end it all at once.”

Still breathless from the steamy kiss, you looked up meeting his intense, feline-like eyes where a glint of mischief danced. Running purely on impulse and adrenaline, you pulled him toward the couch. A silent and inviting yes to his question as his kitten smile you admired so much reappeared on his face.

Gently lying on the couch, San hovered over you, capturing your lips once more. Your hands snaked around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. Moans and heavy breaths filled the private gym room. Thank God it was private, you thought, relieved that no one could walk in on the two of you doing this.

Breaking the kiss, San whispered in your ear, his hot breath tingling the skin nearby, “Loving this, kitten ?” You managed a soft “yes” as your mind slowly turned to mush with the delicious friction from his clothed cock rubbing against your own clothed core, a tight knot of need building in your stomach as your toes curled from the sensation.

His lips found your neck, biting and kissing the delicate skin while he kept up that maddening rhythm. Your pretty moans filled the room as you felt a release approaching. His hands found your chest as he pulled your right breast free from your bra. He latched his mouth onto it, and his movements intensified as he dry humped against you. “Ahhh…San…damn! Keep going.” you begged, tugging his hair and urging him on.

The overwhelming sensation of his mouth sucking your breast, his cock rubbing you to the edge, and on top of all this, his fingers pushing into your mouth to quiet your moans all combined, drove you wild. You took control, gripping his hand and swirling your tongue around his fingers, enjoying the taste of him. “I really like your body, kitten. So hot and beautiful.” he murmured while sucking on your nipple, occasionally nipping at it. “Saaannn…more.” you whined, craving every bit of his attention and he knew just how and when to give it to you.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he settled between your legs, parting them to take in the wet mess you had made. The fabric of your shorts was soaked, covered in your slickness as he dragged two fingers over your clothed core. “San…please…” you begged, urgency thick in your voice as you ached to feel him fully.

In one smooth motion, he slipped off your gym shorts, greeted by the sight of your dripping, glistening core. Leaning down, he took a quick lick, savoring the taste of you which only made his mouth water for more as his hard member ached, desperate to feel your warmth. He quickly freed himself from his pants, positioning himself at your entrance.

“Ready for me…kitten ? You have no idea how much I’ve wanted thi.,” he said, flashing his signature kitten smile. Ironic, considering it was what he called you, his kitten. He pushed into you slowly, steadily, stretching your walls as you savored the sensation of his girthy length. A groan slipped from his lips as he bottomed out, then he suddenly paused, remembering, “Kitten…we forgot protection.” You reassured him you were on birth control and he was safe to continue.

With nothing holding him back, he thrust deeply, drawing a sharp gasp from you as waves of pleasure made your vision blur. His pace quickened, each movement more intense as though he was savoring every reaction he drew from you. Each deep thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you clung to him, breathless, every moan escaping your lips encouraging him more and more.

Your body tightened feeling almost there, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. Just when you felt you couldn’t hold back, you whispered for him to go faster. He did, matching your need, his fast pace pushing you over the edge. In moments, cummed around him, completely emptifying yourself on his hard cock as your cries filled the room while you surrendered to the sensation.

San slowed, his breathing heavy as he pulled out, his release spilling warmly onto your stomach. You both collapsed together, tangled and breathless.Your hearts raced as you both basked in the afterglow. For a moment, you simply lay there, savoring this quiet, shared moment, the workout you planned replaced by this unforgettable connection and intense make out session.

After catching your breath, you both shared a sweet smile before deciding it was time to clean up. A quick shower helped wash away the intensity of the moment, and soon you were both refreshed, stepping out of the gym side by side. As you gathered your things, San glanced over, a small hope flickering in his chest.

“Hey, Y/n….” he began, voice soft, “I had a really good time. Maybe—”

But his words were interrupted as a sleek BMW pulled up in front of the gym. Your face lit up instantly, and you jogged over, waving. The driver stepped out, and San’s heart sank as he watched you wrap your arms around him in a warm embrace, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Turning back towards San, you smiled and gestured to the man beside you.

“Oh! San, this is Seungcheol.” you said brightly. “My fiancé. We’re getting married soon. That’s the ‘big event’ I was stressed about.”

San’s face faltered for just a split second before he recovered, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Seungcheol.” he said, extending a hand.

Seungcheol shook it warmly. “You too, San. Thanks for looking out for her here.”

San nodded, managing a quiet, “Of course.” He watched you climb into the car, feeling that brief spark of hope dim as Seungcheol held the door open for you with a proud smile. As the car pulled away, San stood alone, the cool evening air settling around him, and he let out a soft sigh, his smile bittersweet as he turns back toward the gym.

Why had he even hoped for something to happen between the two of you?

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

Tag List : @star-my | @pixie0627 | @astuteataraxy

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I’m having too much fun with this someone stop me—

Important to note that I have wanted a speech-capable bird as a pet for pretty much my entire fcking life and have yet to have had the opportunity. Parrot, crow, raven, I care not, just. Chatty bird please.

I did get to meet a parrot one time when I took my niece trick-or-treating and I was dressed as a pirate who tf woulda guessed right not like I have a ton of clothes in my closet that I can use to throw together an impromptu pirate costume at a moment’s notice or anything hahahahaaaaanyway, and one of the people handing out candy was this older gentleman dressed as a pirate WITH AN ACTUAL FUCKING PARROT AND I GOT TO HOLD IT ISTG I ALMOST CRIED

My niece and I got extra candy out of the deal, too. Best Halloween ever.

ANYWAY. Writing a character in animal form is always a shitload of fun, and I am living for this nonsense.

And how mad this sassy mfer is going to be when he figures out what's going on SCREEEE

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch.5 of who even fcking knows,probably at least seven at this point

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time.After finally arriving at Kuraigana Island after months of training, you discover that the Red Hair Pirates are also docked there while their Log Pose syncs and they repair their ship after a small battle...and, on the verge of fighting with Mihawk after spending the past half an hour or more taunting him, Shanks is the first to notice you perched in a nearby window in your devil fruit form.

Previous chapter, First chapter

Next chapter

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

No Trigger Warnings in this chapter. Possible future Trigger Warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count:3,618

Taglist:@i-am-vita

♫♬Acid Jazz Singer- The Fratellis♬♫

And it’s one time, keep it slow, wind them up and here we go

Get it right today and you may still be here tomorrow

Your entire world slowed around you as you considered the situation you had just embedded yourself into. Not one, but three powerful pirates, two of whom were staring straight at you.

One of whom looked as though he had just won his weight in gold at the mere sight of you.

Your act, you had to remember your act, your persona, a simple pet of one of many ill-fated pirate crews on the Grand Line. Fear was surely still a reasonable enough reaction to the sight before you, then.

So, without another thought, you ruffled your feathers out into a defensive stance, throwing your head back and flapping your wings rapidly, shouting, “Danger! Danger! Danger—”

“Oh—no, no, no, no, no danger, it’s—stop that, I’m busy—”

Shanks shoved Mihawk’s sword away and slowly sheathed his own sabre, holding his hands up as he slowly inched toward the window you were perched in, as if to show that he posed you no thread.

“It’s fine, we’re all friends here,” said Shanks went on softly, hands still raised, inching ever closer to the window of the castle you remained perched in. You took a cautious step back in spite of yourself, your eyes darting around, quickly assessing the situation at hand.

Mihawk was all but gawking at Shanks in a mix of utter disbelief and quickly growing rage—Shanks had, after all, spent the past half hour antagonizing him into a fight, only to withdraw the moment he was distracted.

Beckman’s gaze remained far more level, his brow furrowed as he watched your reaction to Shanks’s approach.

So you quickly ducked backward into the darkened room of the castle behind you, hiding behind the corner.

“N—no, no, don’t hide, it’s alright—we were just having a little a fun, isn’t that right, Hawkie?”

“I swear to God, Red-Hair—” you heard the other pirate respond through gritted teeth, clinging to the wall just inside the window with your talons, your heart racing.

“See?” Shanks went on, ignoring his murderous tone. “Just a little fun, that’s all, you’re safe—”

You stared in growing trepidation as he reached his hand slowly through the window, and the moment it was an inch away from you, you bit down hard on one of his fingers.

“Ow—” He pulled his hand back in an instant, and you could practically hear him pouting when he spoke again. “...it bit me.”

“What the hell did you think it was going to do, join your damned crew?” said Mihawk, giving a derisive scoff.

“Yes,” said Shanks, defensively.

“No,” said Beckman firmly.

“But—!”

“I spend enough time cleaning up your messes, I’m not cleaning up bird shit all over the ship on top of it.”

“I’d clean up after it.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on—Hawk-Eye, you’re part bird, help me get it—”

“I’m not part bird, you complete moron,” snapped Hawk-Eye. “Get the damned thing yourself.”

Shanks was quiet for a long moment as you fought to gain control of your breathing, to calm your racing heart...and then—

“Fine, if you wanna clean up bird shit all over your castle—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

You heard quickly approaching footsteps following the irritated grumble, and part of you considered ducking further back into the castle...but you knew you couldn’t. You shouldn’t. This was your opportunity.

A moment later you let out a strangled squawk as his hand closed around your neck and he jerked you away from the wall you were clinging to. He held you out at arm’s length, still scowling. Shanks slumped back against the castle wall, still pouting. “How come it didn’t bite you?” he complained.

“Because I was smart enough not to give the damned creature a chance to,” he shot back, tossing a brief glare at Shanks before turning his yellow eyes back on you.

You steeled your nerves before tilting your head to the side and blinking a few times, and forced out in the most chipper tone you could muster, “Hiya!”

Shank’s jaw dropped in borderline outrage, but Mihawk only lifted an eyebrow. Beckman gave an amused scoff as he ashed his cigarette. “Looks like you made a friend, Hawk-Eye.”

“That’s not fair,” said Shanks, pushing away from the castle wall and approaching. “I was being nice and—”

As he drew closer, you ruffled your feathers out again, shouting, “Danger! Danger!”

“I’m not the dangerous one, he is!” Shanks shouted back, gesturing at Mihawk.

“Yelling probably isn’t going to help, Cap,” Beckman pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking at the spectacle. Mihawk was still holding you at arm’s length as you continued shouting, his yellow eyes shifting between you and Shanks. He shifted his arm, holding you further away from the redhead, and you quieted down. Then, just as slowly, with the slightest spark of interest in his expression, he shifted you closer to Shanks again.

You immediately resumed shouting.

“I don’t think it likes you very much, Red Hair,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk at the dejected look that fell over Shanks’s face. Mihawk held you further away from him again, his grip loosened around your neck now, and you expelled a sigh, your feathers smoothing back down. You still remained tense, well aware that he could easily snap your neck in a moment’s notice if you made a single wrong move...but his amusement at Shanks’s disappointment was likely a good sign. If all you had to do was continue to insult him, then you were sure you could manage.

“Stupid bird,” Shanks complained, kicking at a piece of rubble and slumping back against the pile of stone next to Beckman, crossing his arms.

“I’m fairly certain there’s only one birdbrain in the immediate vicinity, Red Hair,” said Mihawk.

“Birdbrain!” you repeated, and his eyes shot back over to you as Beckman gave a snort of laughter. You tilted your head again. “Hiya!”

“...Hello,” he said dryly—and finally released you from his grasp without any notice, causing you to drop to the ground before you could so much as flutter your wings. You quickly hopped back up to your feet, ruffling your wings out a bit to shake the dirt off of them, and flew back over to the windowsill you had been perched in, turning your head around to preen your feathers while the three pirates watched you in bemusement.

“Strange creature,” Mihawk commented after a moment, turning and striding back over to the broken wall and taking a seat again.

“I don’t think they usually talk in wild,” said Beckman. “Probably came from a ship.”

You turned your head quickly at the word ship, squawking out, “Wind in your sails! Wind in your sails! Hard to port, boys!”

“Aaaagh!” Shanks groaned again, flopping his head back dramatically. “It’s not fair, I want it—”

“Birdbrain!”

“Oh, shut up,” he snapped, and it wasn’t entirely clear whether it was in response to your comment or Mihawk’s small chuckle of amusement.

“Well.” Beckman straightened out, stubbing out his cigarette on the crumbled stone behind him and flicking the butt away. “I think it’s pretty clear the locals don’t want us here, Captain.” Shanks tossed a glare at his first mate, but straightened out himself, arms still crossed over his chest, lips still pursed in a pout.

“Fine…” he sighed, his arms falling limp at his sides. He rolled his eyes over to Mihawk, quickly regaining his composure and giving his so-called ‘friend’ a debonair grin. “I look forward to our next little visit, Hawk-Eye.”

“That makes one of us,” Mihawk commented in his typical dry tone, laying his sword out across his lap again without so much as glancing up.

You watched from the corner of your vision as Shanks and Beckman disappeared into the shadow of the surrounding dense forest, relaxing only the slightest bit at their departure. You had managed to fool all three of them so far, and evidently made a good first impression on your target. That was good. That was progress. You turned your gaze back toward Mihawk slowly, swallowing, debating on your next move.

And froze when he lifted his head suddenly, looking directly at you as if he had sensed your gaze.

He then rolled his eyes and went back to detailing his sword.

“You’re free to leave any time,” he said.

You quickly perked up, letting out another excitable, “Hiya!” He let out a small growl of annoyance in response, grumbling something under his breath about that idiot Red-Hair, to which you responded, “Birdbrain.”

He let out another amused chuckle, before freezing and looking back up at you with a frown. “Stop that. Just—shoo.”

It seemed his annoyance stemmed more from his own reaction to you rather than toward your presence itself, from the fact that he was already interested in you and your presence seemed to threaten his solitary existence.

This could be a good thing, you decided. If nothing else, he was intrigued, and you knew you could work with that.

Once he had turned his attention back to his sword, you hopped down from the edge of the window and to the dusty ground below, keeping your eyes trained on the pirate as you inched slowly closer, sidestepping against the edge of the castle wall.

Freezing in place when his eyes shot toward you again.

Inching a little further, a little closer when he lowered his gaze again.

Freezing yet again when he looked up. He frowned at you for a long moment, standing still as a statue, your gray plumage blending you right into the stone castle wall behind you. Several tense seconds passed before he heaved a sigh, leaning back the slightest bit. “You’re a persistent little pest, aren’t you?” he said, lifting an eyebrow...and then slowly, almost reluctantly, he raised his arm, holding it out toward you.

Progress.

You fluttered your wings, flying the short distance over and landing on his forearm near his wrist, wrapping your talons around carefully to keep your balance. He lifted an eyebrow at you as you perked up and let out another enthusiastic, “Hiya!”

“Yes, hello,” he said, almost dismissively.

“Hiya!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbled, shaking his head and running his free hand back through his hair. “What are you even doing here? Lost your old crew?” He gave a small scoff as you tilted your head. “What were they? Pirates? Marines?”

As if prompted, you immediately ruffled your feathers out around your neck, flapping your wings in agitation—”Danger! Danger! Dan—”

He jerked back the slightest bit at your reaction, and you snapped your beak shut at the sudden motion. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, his expression more curious than annoyed. After a moment he spoke, almost carefully. “Pirates.”

He was testing you. You ruffled your wings a bit, and turned your head around, preening your feathers without showing the slightest sign of interest.

“...Marines—”

“Danger! Danger! Hard to port! Fire at will! Fire—”

“Alright, alright, enough,” he snapped, shaking his arm, wincing a little as you tightened your talons a bit. He heaved a sigh when you settled down. “I suppose it’s safe to assume you’re not particularly fond of...er, the bureaucracy.” He lifted an eyebrow as you loosened your talons, and inched sideways across his arm, your movements slow and cautious. “What are you doing?” You inched a bit further, keeping your eyes trained for any sign of him striking out—and you saw none.

A little closer, until you were nearly on his shoulder, deciding to push your luck to gauge his reaction.

You leaned your head back, and let out a dramatic, “Mmm-mwah! Pretty bird.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression deadpanning, blinking at you slowly.

“You’re worse than Red-Hair,” he said finally.

“Birdbrain!”

“Indeed he is,” he agreed—and then shook his head, shifting his shoulder toward you as if to shift you further away. “Why the hell am I talking to a bird—shoo already—”

You gave a startled squawk, shifting quickly back down the length of his arm, settling closer to his elbow and tilting your head to the side. His mouth fell into a frown, and he shook his arm a bit, in more an experimental manner than an aggressive one, testing your reaction again.

“Shoo,” he said once more, far less firmly.

You lifted one of your wings, ducking your head back behind it...and slowly lifting it to peak out at him, noting the small spark of interest in his gaze despite his best attempt to continue appearing annoyed.

“Pretty bird!” you exclaimed once more, a bit more quietly this time, before ducking your head back down behind your wing again.

He remained silent for some time, and you remained still, waiting for any sign of reaction from him. Finally he heaved out a long sigh, his posture relaxing again. You lifted your head to peak out over the top of your wing again as he looked at you with an irritated sort of resignation. “Yes, fine,” he said dryly. “Pretty bird.”

“Pretty bird!” You folded your wing back behind you, bobbing your head up and down a couple times, your own tension easing as he let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head. “Pretty, pretty girl,” you added, punctuating the statement with a low whistle.

“Oh, so you’re a lady, are you?” he said with a wry smirk. “I suppose I should apologize for my rudeness.” Despite his clear sarcasm, he gave another small chuckle, tentatively lifted his free hand toward you, and lightly brushed his index finger across the gray feathers at the side of your head. “You know, you’d likely have been far better off following that idiot Red Hair back to his ship.”

“Birdbrain!” you commented, tilting your head toward his hand as he gave a small snort of amusement.

“Yes, the birdbrain,” he agreed with another light chuckle, his wry smirk shifting toward a small, genuine smile. He went on stroking your feathers idly for a moment, shaking his head. “And what, precisely, am I supposed to do with you?”

If nothing else, it was comforting to know that his violent nature didn’t extend beyond humans. He was warming up to your presence far more quickly than you had anticipated he might, but your own knowledge was limited solely to the intelligence the Marines had gathered from his reign of terror and bloodshed across the vast expanse of the Grand Line. His interactions with Shanks suggested he certainly preferred a solitary existence, and that his initial dismissive attitude toward your presence may have been more for show than anything, for the very sake of keeping up his reputation.

Nothing about his present demeanor suggested any of that. The fondness in his eyes as he surveyed your own reactions was almost comforting in itself, almost familiar—you had seen the same look in you mother’s eyes when she cared for the birds at the aviary, felt the same fondness for the creatures when you helped look after them.

It took some effort for you to remind yourself that you were dealing with an incredibly dangerous pirate, dangerous enough that the World Government considered him a threat.

“Pretty bird!” you said again, cooing the words out, watching as he let out a huff of amusement.

“What a vain creature you are,” he commented, smoothing back the feathers at the top of your head. “Though I doubt you can survive on compliments alone. And if Beckman’s correct, you’re likely not suited to living in the wild...the humandrills don’t particularly take kindly to any new creature in their territory…” You only tilted your head in response as his words turned toward introspective mutterings, his mouth turning down into a thoughtful frown.

At length he let out a sigh, rolling his eyes and lying his head back for a moment. You tensed as he stood up, lifting his sword with one hand and resting it back across his shoulder, clearly making an effort to hold his opposite arm steady in front of him as you remained perched there, still frowning at you with an air of resignation.

“I suppose I have some reading to do if you aren’t going anywhere,” he said.

You could hardly believe your luck as he shook his arm out slightly, directing you to shift over to his shoulder. You followed the wordless instruction quickly, your talons grasping lightly at the fabric of his shirt to keep your balance as he stooped down to pick up his plumed hat. Rather than the obstacle that Garp and Bogard had assumed they would be, the brief presence of the Red Hair Pirates on the island had practically ensured your initial success at winning over the otherwise reclusive target of your mission.

If you managed to come out of this mission alive, you were going to be certain to rub that in both of their faces.

Minutes later you were perching in one of the high windows of the castle, watching as Mihawk drew his fingers across the rows upon rows of dusty books in the orange glow of the candlelight in the library, his head tilted and his sharp yellow eyes scanning across the titles etched into the spines of the innumerable tomes.

“Nothing about birds so far,” he said, mostly a quiet utterance to himself, but he still glanced toward your silhouette in the window as he spoke. “I do hope you don’t end up being more trouble than you’re worth, bird.”

You ruffled your feathers a bit, tucking your head down and nearly closing your eyes. He gave a small scoff at the sight of you relaxing, rolling his eyes before resuming his meticulous perusal of the books in the library.

“You’d best hope I find something if you don’t want to starve to death,” he commented. “I have no intention of going out of my way to accommodate you.”

“Pretty girl,” you responded, along with a brief series of kissing noises and a low whistle, and you would have been smirking yourself if you could have when he let out a quiet, amused chuckle in response to your commentary.

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware you’re a pretty girl,” he responded airily from behind a row of books.

Some time passed before he finally gave up, propping his sword against one of the many shelves and falling back into an armchair near the empty fireplace at the center of the room. You hesitated at your perch on the window for some time, watching him run a hand back through his dark hair in clear, stretching his arm out across an arm of the chair and strumming his fingers, his lips turned down in a thoughtful frown.

You finally decided to join him there, flapping your wings a few times to gain enough momentum to glide over and perch at the edge of one of the arms, tilting your head when he glanced over at you, waiting to see whether he would shoo you off or welcome your presence. He frowned at you for a long moment, before finally rolling his eyes and holding out his hand.

“Troublesome creature.” His tone was still light, almost affectionate, his mouth curving into a small smile as you crept from the edge of the chair to perch on his arm. “I suppose I do need to make port for supplies soon. It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to learn a bit more about you, would it, pretty bird?”

“Pretty bird,” you responded, inching closer, settling yourself just above his elbow.

He brushed his knuckles against your feathers at the side of your head, giving a small chuckle as your eyelids drooped in response to his touch, before tucking his hand behind his neck and shifting back into the chair, his eyes slipping shut.

“Yes, pretty bird,” he repeated in a resigned sigh, his tone quiet and almost gentle.

Your eyes slowly drifted back open, watching him as he relaxed, your mind racing in spite of your own exhaustion. You hadn’t expected it to be this easy. Your target was supposed to be a terrifying, murderous sociopath with no regard or concern for any life apart from his own, an enigma that the Marines regarded as an unfeeling monster. Instead you found yourself staring up at a perfectly normal, albeit somewhat reclusive man, his mouth still curved into a small, fond smile in response to your presence. His smile lingered even as his breathing grew slower and deeper as he drifted off to sleep, just as your gaze lingered on his features.

He had been far kinder to you than the vast majority of your supposed comrades even had.

He could have easily snapped your neck the moment he first touched you...but he hadn’t.

Once more you shifted up his arm, perching yourself on his shoulder, and just to test his reaction, you nuzzled against his neck.

He lifted a hand in his sleep to absently swat at the disturbance, his expression twitching toward irritation for a moment—and then softening as his hand settled lightly into your feathers, his fingertips brushing across your wings before his arm fell across his lap, still fast asleep.

Little as you liked it, you were quickly becoming as interested in finding out more about him as he seemed to be interested in learning about you.

You liked it even less that you already felt comfortable enough to let your own eyes drift shut, the sound of his own slow breathing lulling you toward sleep.

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

[darlingpwease]

I wonder if Can you write Yandere Omega Seth (from Ennead) if you okay with it

I'll find you

hide as much as you can // I'll find you

♡ fictional mythology, unhealthy behaviour, lovehate dynamic (love -> lovehate), animalistic behaviour, pet names, power exchange, mention of bloodletting (seth), hints of incestuous relationships?; beta!reader -> alpha!reader, heqet/khnum!reader implied

♡ rough treatment, mild blood kink, mild scent kink, heavy petting, dubious consent -> consensual, unprotected sex / breeding, bondage by sand, power imbalance -> power exchange; word 'womb' used once for Seth

𓂀 Contacting this omega is not the best solution — you realized when you first met him, while coming out of the Nile, the keeper of the floods of which you were.

Of course, it's not that you were obliged to communicate with any of them or even be interested in your distant relatives, who were no more than the seventh water on the jelly, but you needed to come out of the depths of the Nile at least from time to time — and when you finally come out, for the first time you meet an unusually red shade, burning like a torch against the background of burning golden sand and the sky blue as the waters of the Nile.

He was like a creature that was born from the spilled blood of all the fallen warriors who did not find their way home, but took refuge in your waters, sprinkling your waters over and over again until the river turns red like the sunset.

His name was 'SETH', he was the god of war and the desert, his parents were Geb and Nut — and when your gaze first crossed, it was as if you were hit on the head with something; almost a low cry of 'YOU WERE NOTICED' so loud that if you were human, you would turn away and run away, — under the sand, under the ground, under the water, no matter where, — but you are not a human and, even if you were weaker than him, you would not run away.

After all, who is the 'God of War and the Desert' against the Deity who keeps the Nile?

“Don't you dare look at me like that anymore.”

wolf cub.

You can guess that his behavior is probably an attempt to attract, as a fertile young omega provokes a fertile young alpha to get angry and chase after him, showing everything they can, just to prove that they are good enough to fill the womb. You know all this. After all, you were the one who created the figures of people who were illuminated by Ra, and you were more than able to watch these playtimes when the lovers went too far in their games and fell together into the coastal waters after a long chase.

And you more than know the brilliance of those eyes — and react faster than realize, like water, which acts intuitively, not relying on reason, to survive. They say that betas have a stronger intuition with understanding of the world — it's not for nothing that you are one of those gods who prefer maximum detachment, 'spirituality', achieved through refusing to accept the role of omega or alpha.

And you let your instincts dictate.

Before his cheeky mouth has time to say anything, you just have to make a wave so that the waters of the Nile aim at him like a beast that has found prey — and break against a strong, slender figure, without causing severe pain, but forcing him to take steps back, no longer bursting into your space.

SETH'S hair, dripping and darkened from the water, sticks to body — but before he has time to resist you in any way, calling to himself the sands of the desert, submissive to him like a tamed pet, you dissolve into the water, returning to your native current...

“I'll find you!”

... The waters of the Nile easily take you into themselves as a natural part, hiding you from the outside world, dissolving like everything that falls into the water abyss and stays here; it's not for nothing that people say that it was water that gave birth to life, and that water is necessary for life.

And although you are not a water Deity, you are also worth something.

𓂀 You know that this is not Ra — although the method of summoning is the same, Ra would rather strangle herself than summon you, especially so soon after the last arrival. Even if you had a... good relationship, — you both contributed to the appearance of 'humans' — it was obvious that you were still different.

Your clay figurines needed a bright fire to come to life, just as she craved worship and followers — it was an interchange where mortals became what brought you closer and pushed you away from each other.

However, SETH was looking for you for other reasons, quite different from 'worshippers'.

Although you are used to being summoned in other ways, such as sacrifices and festivals, you must admit that you clearly underestimated the son of Nut and Geb, who were no better than any of them — but at least they were smart enough not to try to find out from Ra a way to summon you without having to wait at Nila.

Because more than herself and power, Ra loved only to have fun — and sometimes you wondered if she was looking for power just to have fun.

“... Heh.”

When he looks down at you, like a child who has found a gift hidden from him, his scarlet lips stretch in a cheeky smile.

If most gods and goddesses somehow have more alpha and omega traits, then SETH looks like there are too many of these traits in him, like an omega-like alpha or alpha-like omega than beta.

“It turns out that this is the only way you can be summoned? I thought to the last that she was lying...”

The scarlet spot spreads across the water surface of the unusually calm Nile, dissolving in the streams of water that carry the particles with them, absorbing a new part of itself into its course. If people knew how much Nile water contains particles of their children, parents, friends, spouses, enemies, detractors, traitors — would they drink it?

If they knew that the same water absorbs the blood of the gods they worship, what would they look like, scooping up water like the purest gold — the same as he controls, the God of the Desert, smelling of sand dust, dry grass and heat?

“I don't care. You're here, so it was worth it.”

You don't think that the blood of God should be used for such things, like simply calling you from the river bottom, but don't say anything, giving someone to continue — and SETH continues without hearing an answer.

And although he, in fact, created a trap for you, filling the entire stone floor with his sand to make sure that you don't run away anywhere, you feel more like in the paws of a small puppy than in the cave of a mature wolf.

Wasn't it really an exaggeration to be afraid of him?

... Apparently, you have been under water for so long, absorbing the blood of warriors and animals, that you have become too sensitive to any danger...

“I promised you I'd find you.”

𓂀 SETH smells of freedom — not the freedom that has no limits or restrictions, only dead bodies that float along the Nile can have such freedom, but the freedom that is like the hot breath of the desert during the day and the icy whisper of the desert at night; it smells of heat, dry grass, the blood of soldiers and treasures captured with the help of weapons.

You pretend that you don't notice when treasures fall to the bottom of the Nile, and that, moreover, don't understand who gives you them; but it's hard for you to deny that you don't like the look of them. After all, the Nile is not just a 'river' or 'your home', but your temple and refuge, and the sight of expensive and precious things sheltering the once bare, dreary bottom undoubtedly improves the view and your mood; especially when the current of the river carries you further, and gold, like a lighthouse, shines; sprinkling the dark bottom is like the moon shining on the darkest desert night.

SETH is hot and fervent, like burning blood flowing out of him until you hand an object that can immediately contact you, instead of flooding waters, as if out of spite spending more than really needed, as if the more blood, the faster you will rise to the surface.

(in a sense, it is, but for other reasons...)

You can understand that this relationship is frowned upon, at least by his brother, but there's not much you can do — the waters of the Nile are all-encompassing and almost omnipresent, and the way SETH regularly calls you is almost charming if it wasn't so intense, as if every time he struggles with himself in the desire to devour you or to drag away, but at the same time I have to give up this need, which is close to the human need to drink water. You don't need to ask him about it to know — the way he looks at you, as if wanting to sink his teeth into your skin and take you to his cave, is more than eloquent, and even the way his smell intensifies, silently shouting that he is a strong, healthy and fertile omega, in itself is an obvious sign.

And the fact that you are just as quiet and calm, like serene dark waters, untouched by gusts of sandy wind, only further inflames his burning passion and desire, which he himself cannot describe in any way except as 'mine'.

Mine.

Mine mine mine — you give life, carry life, no matter in a running stream or standing water, watching as the surface is filled with bodies and blood, dirt and tears, bodies entwined in passion and love embraces. It doesn't matter — everything will be dissolved in your current and carried away until it becomes no more than another drop in billions of the same, carrying information that only you know.

SETH, on the other hand, carries with him the smell of something wild, giving life, — but also ruthlessly taking it for himself, strewing everything with the red-hot gold of the desert, which becomes more and more every time you rise, noticing how the waters that used to caress the fertile lands now nourish the sand.

And you know what will happen next — SETH has never been a secretive type, even if his method of hunting was closer to big cats hiding until they get close enough to bite into the throat and gnaw, taking them to their hideout. SETH is the same cat — big, red and strong, smelling of mature omega when he notices that you are more responsive to this fragrance.

SETH is not at all deeply interested in the topic of "let's mate" — are you sure that he is attracted not at all to your physical data or smell, but to how comfortable and safe he is next to you, letting him finally relax, looking for comfort in your waters, and that if he decided that you would be his, then you will be his.

He will always find you.

𓂀 SETH is persistent, stubborn and aggressive. Even if his emotions are a sphere that is easy to push and cause pain, you understand perfectly well that he is the god who will break rather than bend.

But when he asks you what happens to the bodies of those soldiers that he led to war, when they find themselves in the Nile, like bags full of blood, breathing and thinking recently, at first you don't know what to answer — not because you can't share his silent pain, looking like a scorpion that suddenly bared you have a soft vulnerable tummy, but because you have nothing to answer.

What happens to the bodies? The Nile absorbs them — everything that was dumped into the waters finds itself in the stomachs of animals or in water particles, carrying with it such an amount of memory that nothing else can contain.

“... If I die one day, will you promise that my memory will be preserved in your waters?”

You no longer know if you are talking about the waters of the Nile or something else — but you know that you will probably never find SETH like this again.

Unusually fragile, as if really an ordinary omega who just wants to have a family, a common nest and puppies. To have you as an alpha, to be in the same nest with you and to have children together.

What can you say other than consent? No matter what happens, he will always remain in your memory — as a special memory that will never be erased.

“... Thank you. I'll never forget you either. And I won't let go.”

His eyes are burning just like the sunset on the background.

“We'll be together. Always. Because I chose you and I won't let you go.”

𓂀 His power becomes stronger, and when you meet him again, you have nothing to oppose when the sand from the land and the bottom rises to grab you.

Undoubtedly, it wasn't something that you 'didn't expect' — SETH was never the type who tried to hide what intentions he had if he saw that it would affect your attitude, and even if he found comfort in your touches and hugs, covering him like a blanket from the whole world, he never had this safe habit of 'being content with little'. His intentions were obvious from the first meeting and did not change at all — you were perfect, from head to toe, the only one with whom he would like to spend one heat and then make you spend thousands more, finally feeling complete, finished.

He, the god of the Desert and War, with you, Deity of the Nile flood — is not the best couple that can be?

'No'?

... Ha, does someone think that things like "imperfect couple" or "more worthy" or "more accessible" or "morally wrong" or something else will stop him?

Does he need permission? If he wants it — he will get it. And nothing can stop him.

Even if you are a beta, you smell fertile, pleasant, sweet — you smell of life, sex, from which children are born, absorbing the spilled blood and creating from it what brings birth and fertility, and SETH has always been more than gambling and ready to put everything on the line.

And you knew it.

Even if you are safe in the water, once you get out, nothing can save you — especially when you step on the sand, which immediately becomes your cage, locking you in. The waters immediately splash out of the Nile, crushing on him, but now SETH moves only a couple of steps, becoming much more powerful — and when palms grab by the wrists while teeth close on neck, everything inside you starts screaming again that you need to run right now.

Now the sand turns out to be decorated with spots of the deity's blood.

His mark pulsates on never-marked neck — and although it is not the same among deities as among people, you clearly see that for him it was not at all 'just a bite' or a 'mating mark', but a sign of possession, while the pupils in the blood-red iris, the shade of red-hot metal, expand, and a nimble pink tongue licks the blood from scarlet lips.

Red.

RED RED RED.

Nails are no worse than the claws of a wolf, and even fangs look like they can easily tear apart a dozen other people who decide to intervene.

The sand squeezes your feet so tightly that you can't even twitch.

This is all completely wrong.

You cowardly escape into the waters — betas are not capable of mating, are not created for this, closer to 'asexual beings' who do not have a biological task in the form of giving birth, much closer to the primordial asexual matter than to the omegas and alphas giving birth, but for some reason a mark with an imprint burns on his neck which didn't exist before.

Was it you? Or was it the part of you that you denied? You didn't know. It is easier to plunge into the native waters than to try to figure out why for the first time its fragrance was so dizzying, or why you went for something like this. You're not like that at all — not like that at all. It's not normal.

But you'll have to get out soon anyway.

You don't want your omega to get hurt while calling you, right, alpha?

Interlude

“I'm surprised you decided to step in anyway, dear.”

When the sand almost gently wraps around your hands, you realize that the biggest stupidity you can do is to try to escape.

Even if there is water in things like vases in the room, this is too little to create the necessary amount — and even to make sand soft and heavy, such a meager amount is not enough, except to pour it on him and break a vase on this face.

“Wasn't it you who liked to be constantly huddled in your little shell? Hiding there from any danger and thinking that it will help you?”

His hands are not the same as before — slightly rough, wide palms that easily slide over your cool skin, leaving warm traces, slightly scratching with sharp nails, as if hinting that you should not do rash things; if he did not smell like a blooming omega, you would think that he was alpha or alpha-like beta.

“But it turns out that if it's not me, but someone else, then you're ready to help them! No matter how much blood I shed, you didn't come out — but as soon as it was Isis, you immediately got out to help.”

His mark on your neck has not been pulsating for a long time, but when his fingers touch your neck, he freezes for a moment, assessing the scar left, which is almost impossible to notice — and from something, your body again feels this soreness, fettering for a moment from the realization of what happened before the brain began to work feverishly.

Then.

Now you are experiencing phantom pain until you realize that it is not 'phantom' — SETH shamelessly licks your blood from his fingers when he realizes that he scratched the old mark.

“This is wrong.”

Even when blood drips down from the shoulder, you know that's not what you need to worry about — his body is hot as the desert during the day, especially when his hips easily sit on top of yours, taking care that the sand does not let go of your hands.

“I promised you I'd always be there for you; although it was you who avoided me all these years, not appearing even when the corpses filled the entire Nile, while the other gods were terrified of what was happening — but I understand. A lot to do, yes? You've always been busy and strict, ever since our first meeting, when you doused me like some kind of animal.”

The thick scent of omega is so strong that you are not sure if it smells from him or if it is something else — the same thing that made you bite his neck then; your bite is also still burning on his skin, although it looks much more noticeable on him, although you are sure that you bit weaker than him.

The sweet bloody fragrance makes you dizzy.

“And when I saw you, I realized that you didn't live well either; after all, who but me could take care of a hermit like you?”

His hands, in spite of everything, are omeganine soft and pleasant, even if he uses them to look even more wrongly charming, as if he did not sneak into your bedroom — in which you were definitely expecting this meeting — to "talk heart to heart" while his hot wet slippery thighs touch your hips,

obviously.

“I was doing the wrong thing. I gave you the 'right to choose', thinking that this is what lovers should do — but, you know, people around me explained to me what I did wrong. By own example. And I'm ready to show you what I should have done back then, instead of this idiotic thought that you'd think it over and make a nest with me...”

He purrs — deep in his throat, like a big cat, when a strong flexible hand gently rests on your chest while the second one uses the surface behind as a support, rubs against your thighs, leaving sticky wet traces of juice on your bare skin, from touching which your skin burns, and you don't look at him, making sure not to do anything you might regret,

“Look at your omega.”

but it's hard to do when his hand moves from your chest to your throat, not squeezing, but feeling quite threatening, even if you are sure that it will not cause any harm.

“Don't you dare take your eyes off me or I'll scratch them out. You can only look at me and see only me. No one else and nothing else.”

The way he hovers feels almost the same as when he was able to summon you for the first time — his hair hangs down freely, like the flames of candles burning around you, and the same abnormally bright glow burns in his eyes, like the eyes of a cat. Or a wolf.

An abandoned, starved wolf.

“... Like I said, no one cares about you but me — you can fight this idea all you want, but we both know it's true.”

It's wet, wet, hot, sticky, tight between SETH'S thighs — you didn't consider yourself a 'virgin', but when the smell gets stronger and sharper, even you need time to get rid of the veil of excitement that covers eyes in the basest way, looking at his strong thighs while red hair falls over his shoulders, revealing a view of the most handsome omega in your life.

“Therefore...”

His lips are scarlet, thin, beautiful, and when he bends over you, you can't feel the inarticulate delight and the misunderstanding that follows it, associated with the simultaneous desire to pull away from repeated unusual stimulation and the desire to take this stimulation, grab by the hair and breed until it becomes clear that you will need a joint nest, in which he will keep the puppies while you fill him again and again.

Over and over, until his belly is rounded.

This is wrong.

His legs are slender and strong, ideal so that you don't have to do anything while SETH is able to at least move his knees — but you are sure that if you just wrap your hands around his hips and squeeze, you will get much more pleasure and delight, hammering into him with the basest this is wrong in a way.

It's the smell of omega. Definitely the smell of omega.

You yourself can't feel like this for him — for omega, who first marked you, then pursued you for many years and now, finally getting a chance, immediately pounced like an overexcited wolf, to such an extent that you can see the juice flowing down his thighs, although you are sure that even he does not realize it himself, considering it nothing more than a 'punishment'.

“... let me take care of–”

Of course you will.

Everything happens in the blink of an eye — the water, the sand, astonished expression on his face and how it takes you no more than a couple of minutes to find yourself in a deliciously tight heat, from which his claws immediately scratch your hands holding him on his back until it bleed, but nothing in him tries to escape, even if SETH growls mixed with purring, choking on words as you snuggle tighter, allowing something more animal, dirty to take control.

You smell of life, passion, sex — 'the very sex from which children are born', the very life that gave rise to mortals, and you know that you have something to fill this womb with.

When his cheeks are covered with a bright blush, reminiscent of the shade of his eyes and hair; you can't help but reach out to burrow into his neck, not caring about the sand that is wrapped around your ankle — and not caring about the aggressive imperiousness with which SETH squeezes you while sharp fangs bite your lips almost to the point of blood, greedily kissing, almost devouring.

If you leave me again, I'll find you and kill you.

[visualtaehyun]

Pronouns, curses, and cake crimes 🍰

Finally here with the in-depth version of my rambles plain reactions from the other day. Title brought to you by @jeffsatyr cause I love that turn of phrase in his post here so much!

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏 color-coding characters again: Mut, Rak, Prin, Meena

Rak's lovely relatives

คุณเพิ่งด่าไอ้เด็กเหี้ยนั่นว่า เอาเวลาว่างไปหาอะไรใส่หัว ดีกว่าเสือกเรื่องของคนอื่น ผมไม่อยากเ��็นคนเหี้ยครับ /khun pheerng daa ai dek hiia nan waa ao wehlaa waang bpai haa a rai sai hua dee gwaa seuuak reuuang khaawng khohn euun. pom mai yaak bpen khohn hiia khrap/ = You just told off that nasty brat, that [she should] use her free time to find and put something in her head instead of prying into other people's business. I don't want to be someone nasty.

My translation is probably too mild but I wanted to highlight these two aspects: 1) He continues to call her a child (เด็ก /dek/), even though Rak told him last episode that Prin is older than Mut lol and 2) he uses the same curse word twice (เหี้ย /hiia/), once to describe her despicable behavior and then to distance himself from it - and hilariously ends that statement with a polite ครับ /khrap/! -> เหี้ย /hiia/ is used as a curse word but originally refers to a type of lizard

แมงดา /maaeng daa/ = can mean pimp or (male) prostitute or gigolo; lit. a horseshoe crab

It comes from how male horseshoe crabs will cling onto a female's back during mating season, taking advantage of its mate, and is therefore used to disparage men who benefit off of women financially.

Pronouns galore!

Connor and Rak use ฉัน /chan/ and นาย /naai/ in both directions -

Kom uses ผม /pom/ and apparently just คอนเนอร์ /Connor/ -> polite formal 1st pers. pronoun as Kom is younger but he seems to call his older boyfriend just by name which could indicate familiarity, equal standing in their relationship, or maybe it's just because Connor is a foreigner and thus prefers having his name used??

with Rak, Kom uses ผม /pom/ and พี่รัก /phi Rak/ -> polite yet familiar

Mut and Kom use กู /guu/ and มึง /meung/ in both directions, same as Vi and Rak -> rude, familiar pronouns; they're around the same age and have been friends for ages

Mut calls the girls คุณ(ไข่)มุก /khun (Khai)Mook/ and พี่วี /phi Vi/ -> really shows the difference in closeness!

Special interlude

I've seen enough people talk about this inspired subbing choice here to figure it might be interesting to read about:

โคตรพ่อโคตรแม่รู้สึกดีเลย /khoht por khoht mae ruu seuk dee loei/ = It feels fanfuckingtastically good [...]

-> โคตร /khoht/ refers to one's ancestors or lineage but is used as a vulgar intensifier. Adding พ่อ /por/ = father, and แม่ /mae/ = mother, onto that just makes it stronger by swearing on both sides of the family tree I guess lol (A translation in the same vein might then yield you something like 'It feels so motherfucking good' but I love what MMY's translator went with!)

Rak's actually-lovely relative

ตาเค้าเอง /dtaa khao eng/

-> เค้า /khao/ is a cute informal 1st pers. pronoun, her friend Ing-Ing uses it as well For context, it's most often used in Thai QL by 1) characters who wanna be cutesy with their partner, like Sun once or twice in 23.5 or Tan, consistently lol, in We Are, or 2) by characters who are sweet and cute to begin with (mostly women tbh). Anueng in Blank or Pleng and Wan in the upcoming GL Affair also come to mind.

ว่าไง สาวน้อยของน้า /waa ngai, saao noi khaawng naa/

-> น้า /naa/ = uncle or aunt, specifically the mother's younger sibling 'Uncle' only shows up in the subs here but he always uses it as a 1st pers. pronoun with Meena. Also spot the sweet and soft tone he uses here with his niece uwu

แต่น้ารักห้ามเอาน้ารักตอนที่น้ารักอายุ 13 มาเทียบกับมีนาตอนนี้ /dtaae naa Rak haam ao naa Rak dtaawn thee naa Rak aayu 13 maa thiiap gap Meena dtaawn nee/

For her age, she is quite perceptive and clever and it seems her mom and/or uncle (and maybe grandma too?) made sure she understands the full scope of their family drama. Nina, the actress, is a few years younger than that and looks it too tbh so I'm glad she mentions Meena's age for us. She calls herself by name and him uncle Rak น้ารัก /naa Rak/ which, adorably, sounds close to น่ารัก /naa rak/ = cute/lovable, there's a difference in tone though!

พี่จะทำให้เขา ต้องรัก พี่ /phi ja tham hai khao 'dtaawng rak' phi/

-> ต้องรัก /dtaawng rak/ = must/have to love; Tongrak's name He's said this several times in previous episodes but it specifically threw me back to this scene from ep. 3 🥺

คนอย่างผม ใครจะไปกล้าขอคุณต้องรัก /khohn yaang pom, khrai ja bpai glaa khaaw khun dtaawng rak/ = Someone like me, who would dare to ask Khun Tongrak (/you). ...which could also be read as: = Someone like me, who would dare ask you to have to love [me?].

The word she uses is หน้าด้าน /naa daan/ = boldfaced, shameless, which is surprisingly rude lmaooo

The พี่ /phi/ came and went and now she addresses him exactly the same way as her uncle Rak - น้าหมุด /naa Mut/ hehe

Oh and hey, here's a crazy thought-- Mut and Meena have about the same age gap as Mut and Rak, he might even be closer in age to her than to Rak! In the novel, Rak is 30 going on 31 and judging by Kom being 19 in Love Sand, Mut can't be much older than 20, maybe early 20s.

Submission

วันนี้คุณว่าง่ายกว่าปกตินะ /wan nee, khun waa ngaai gwaa bohk-ga-dti na/ = Today you're more docile than usual.

-> ว่าง่าย /waa ngaai/ = docile, obedient, submissive, compliant, to listen If you've seen more than one Thai drama, I expect you've encountered the word ดื้อ /deuu/ before which is most often subbed as 'stubborn' but can mean 'to not listen, disobedient, obstinate, defiant, resistant' so this word here is just about the opposite of it!

อยากทำก็ทำ ผมเป็นของคุณอยู่แล้ว /yaak tham gaaw tham. pom bpen khaawng khun yuu laaeo/ = [If you] want to do it then do it. I'm all yours.

-> อยู่แล้ว /yuu laaeo/ at the end there can express certainty or completion so this could also be translated as 'I'm already yours' if that makes any difference to anyone but me lol

[melodygatesauthor]

The Best Kept Secrets - Marc's Story

dbf!Marc Spector X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - AO3 Link

Suggested reading order - Marc -> Steven -> Jake -

Steven's Story - Jake's Story

Summary:

You've just graduated college and you find yourself developing feelings for your dad's best friend after your graduation party. Three different versions of the same story all with different boys.

Tags/Warnings (for all three fics):

NSFW, age gap (reader is about 22 - boys are 40), reader is not race-coded, reader graduated college in America but isn't necessarily American, p in v creampie, unprotected sex, dbf trope, oral sex, coercion (sort of on both sides), Jake being Jake, Marc being Marc, Steven being Steven, forbidden relationship, forbidden sex, blowjob, mild bondage, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, car sex, bad puns

Word Count: 9.4k (apparently I can't write anything short anymore)

You got out of the Uber when it stopped in front of your childhood home. Your dad was already waiting for you by the front door, smiling wide. He came over with his arms out, pulling you into a big hug. You grunted from the tight squeeze.

“Hi dad.” You choked out.

“I sweetie.” He let go of you and looked you over. “How was the ride from the airport?” He started taking two of your bags out of the trunk and walking back toward the house with you in tow.

“Long,” you said with a tired laugh.

“Well, hope you’re not too tired cause there’s a few people here to see you.”

He opened the front door and you were greeted by several relatives and family friends in the kitchen. They all shouted, congratulations! at once, holding up an assortment of beer bottles and glasses of wine. Knowing your dad, the drinking had been going on for a couple of hours before you arrived.

“Thanks everyone,” you said with a big smile, feeling a little shy having all those eyes on you.

You noticed the black and gold, congrats graduate, banner adorning the wall above the table in the dining area. With the initial excitement over, the crowd dissipated and you watched everyone start mingling once again. Your cousins came up to you and started exchanging quick updates on their lives while everyone else chattered around you throughout the house.

“What do you think, huh?” Your dad asked, coming up behind you while you admired the cake in the center of the dining table. He handed you a mixed drink.

“Dad, this is really great. There’s so many people! I really wasn’t expecting this when you said we were having a graduation barbecue. Thought maybe only a couple people would show up.” You looked to see your aunt talking with one of your dad’s friends in the living room.

“You know me better than that. Not everyday your kid graduates college,” he patted your back proudly, “shit, gotta go check the grill. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, you watched your aunt and your dad’s friend finish their conversation. You’d known Marc since you were a kid, but it had been a long time since you’d seen each other. He came over to you and held up his beer as if to say cheers. He still looked so rough around the edges, just how you always remembered him. You looked him up and down, trying not to make it seem too obvious.

Has he been working out?

“Congrats. College…wow.” He took a swig off his beer bottle, “all grown up.”

You gave him a nervous giggle, “yeah, I guess.” You felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden, you tried to make small talk, “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

He shrugged, “been keeping busy, staying out of trouble,” he gulped some of his beer down and then looked at you with those brown eyes that seemed to sparkle when the light hit them just right.

You felt your cheeks getting flush for what felt like, at the time, nothing worth getting flustered over. Marc was handsome, anyone could see that, but you’d never looked at him that way. He’d always just been your dad’s best friend. Then again, he’d never looked at you like that. Were you imagining things? He seemed to be sneaking glances at different parts of your body. His eyes trekked over your neck, down to the crevice of your slightly low cut shirt, beyond your denim jeans and finally onto the floor which is when he rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous.

“Still fixing toilets?” You sipped your drink, trying to change the subject quickly.

“Yeah…well…sort of. I do all kinds of handyman stuff, not just toilets. I also do home inspections.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it over to you.

You read the print and huffed out a laugh at the obvious pun.

Marc Spector

The Home In-Spector

“It’s dumb I know.” He rolled his eyes, taking another drink.

You raised an eyebrow, “I think it’s clever. Definitely memorable.” Someone called your name from outside, interrupting the casual conversation. “Oh, I gotta go, see you around, Marc.”

“Yeah…you too.”

After several hours and a few drinks later, you were sitting around the firepit with only your dad, one of your cousins and Marc. You remembered the roaring laughter over a dumb joke that Marc made at your expense. You grumbled and gave him the finger. You weren’t actually upset, and had a hard time keeping yourself from bursting out into laughter as well. Marc flipped you off in return and smiled at you. Marc’s smile was so fucking beautiful. Why hadn’t you noticed before tonight how good looking he was? This feeling you had was so wrong…but you wanted him so badly all of a sudden. It had to be the alcohol, that was the only explanation.

A little while later, you were tipsy and felt your eyelids closing involuntarily, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

They closed again, and when you opened them this time, it was only you and Marc left around the fire.

Closed again.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sudden movement stirred you awake. You were being carried by a set of strong arms. Did your dad come back to get you? No. He would’ve woken you up so you could walk to bed. You wrapped your arms around the man’s shoulders and buried your face in his neck. Marc, you thought.

He smelled warm, like he’d been in the sun all day. Your lips brushed the soft skin there, and you felt a strong sense of comfort wash over you. Alcohol had a way of making you forget to filter your emotions, and right now you were hoping Marc would never let go. You didn’t know why you felt that way. None of it made sense. It’s not like he’d made any sort of pass at you during your growing up, and he had certainly been respectful all night.

So why did you feel like you wanted him to fill you up with everything he had?

It had to be the alcohol. You drank too much, and it was making you feel flirty, and foolish, like you didn’t care about the consequences of any bad decisions you might be inclined to make. Marc sat you down on your bed. You didn’t lay down yet, you just sat there, clutching his shirt so he couldn’t walk away. He grabbed your wrist and looked down at you through his own hooded and intoxicated gaze.

“Marc,” you said softly.

He knelt down, eyes level with yours, “what?”

You looked between his eyes. What did you want from him? Did you expect him to throw away a friendship that was older than you’d been on the planet so that you could fulfill this seemingly random and new feeling? If you would just let go of his damn shirt, he could leave and you would go to bed. It was so simple, but you felt an ache between your legs and a burning desire for him that you couldn’t make sense of.

“Don’t go, please.”

He gave you a gentle smirk, “I have to go to bed,” his smile almost killed you, “you gotta let go of my–”

“Take care of me first…don’t you know what you did to me?”

You were both breathing so heavily, and his eyes kept darting to your lips. You weren’t sure who dove in first, but you both started kissing each other hungrily, motions made sloppier from the alcoholic influence you were both under. Marc continued to claim every moan that left your mouth while you guided his hand down to the waist of your pants. He tucked his thick fingers in and felt between your soaking wet folds.

“Holy shit,” he commented in a breathy rasp, “did I really make you that fuckin’ wet? How long have you felt this way about me?”

“A long time,” you lied.

You always had found him attractive. Objectively speaking, Marc was a good looking man. Regarding wanting to let him take you on every surface in your childhood home? That feeling was brand new to you. Something between the drunken fogginess and the sweet way he carried you changed something in your DNA. You needed him…badly.

All too suddenly, Marc gained a conscience. He pulled his hand free from your pants, and backed away from you quickly. He looked you up and down, running a hand through his hair, eyes plagued with guilt. It was all too clear that this fantasy of yours was over. Whatever this moment was that the intoxication had afforded you, ended with some sense of clarity that tore through Marc.

“No, no.”

That was all he could say, not one word more before he left your room in haste. He didn’t need to say anything else. You knew deep down you were dumb for thinking Marc would actually do anything with you. You knew that was a one-time thing, and that he would want to go about as though it never happened. For your father’s sake, you would take an oath of silence, despite the feelings you were keeping buried deep.

----

The next morning at breakfast, Marc had flat out refused to make eye contact with you. Even when you asked him to pass the orange juice, he kept his head down when handing it to you over the turntable. You scowled when you took it from him, but took the bottle without added drama. Of course you understood that things were awkward, but if he kept treating you like you didn’t exist, that was even weirder. If he thought blatantly avoiding you in front of your dad wasn’t suspicious, he was sorely mistaken.

The moment your father went up to use the bathroom, you took the opportunity to talk to Marc who, at that moment, was clenching his jaw and pretending to look at his phone. The man still used a Motorola flip phone. You couldn’t imagine there was anything very interesting on a phone without internet access, unless he was trying to avoid you deliberately.

“Marc, I’m not going to say anything to him or anyone, but you acting like this is more suspicious than if we fucked on the table in front of him so–”

“Can you please watch your mouth. Don’t say things like that.” He said in a harsh whisper, “I just don’t want to think about it, alright?” His thick Chicago accent always came out when he got irritated.

“I’m fine with that, I just mean…you’re not being very subtle. Just pretend nothing happened and treat me like I exist…please.”

When your dad came back downstairs, Marc seemed to make a better effort to act like he always did around you, and it worked. Even you had a couple moments where you almost forgot that there was something awkward between you two. You kept reminding yourself it was only a kiss, and it was only a kiss, but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want so much more.

----

For two weeks you fought off thoughts about your dad’s best friend. You tried so hard not to think about the way his arms felt carrying you up to bed the other night; so hard not to think about the way he smelled when you had your face buried in his neck; you tried so fucking hard not to think about the way his fingers felt brushing over your clit while he kissed you so passionately.

You were surprised when your father left for work and only a couple of hours later, Marc arrived. You didn’t know he was there, and nearly screamed when you heard him whistling downstairs as you were stepping out of the shower. You peered out the window and saw his truck with his company logo on the side. You let out a sigh of relief, realizing that there wasn’t a burglar in your home, but that initial fear was quickly replaced with an anxiety that you couldn’t shake. The only thing you could think about was how badly you wanted to feel his lips on yours again.

After you changed into your shorts and a tanktop, you decided to make your way downstairs to see why he was there in the first place. Marc was laying under the sink, cabinet doors open on either side of him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his biceps flexed under the tight t-shirt he wore, and the dark trail of hair that disappeared under the waist of his pants on his exposed abdomen.

“Marc.” You said gently, as though hearing your voice any volume higher might send him into a rage.

He froze, letting out an exasperated sigh that split through the room. He clanked some of his tools and grunted as he sat up to look at you. He held a furrowed brow, daring you to say something about the night you shared two weeks ago; daring you to bring the memory of that deep shame back to the forefront of his mind. You found yourself having a hard time speaking all of a sudden.

“Look, your dad asked me to come by and fix a few things, just stay out of my way and–”

“M-my air conditioner isn’t working and I was hoping you could take a look at it.” You spat your words out so fast you weren’t sure if he would even be able to understand you.

There was, of course, nothing wrong with your air conditioner, but you wanted to get Marc in your room, alone again, if only for a second. He stood up, aggravation still apparent in his furrowed brow.

“Your ac is broken?” He crossed his arms over his chest, “what’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know, isn’t that your job? I just need you to look at it.”

He grabbed his toolbelt off the ground and followed you up the stairs with a look that told you he was unimpressed, and hardly believed that you needed him to actually fix something. When you got to your room, he went to the window where your perfectly functioning air conditioner sat, and you silently latched the door behind yourself. You felt it getting harder to breathe.

He turned the air conditioner on to test it, learning immediately that he’d been tricked into going up there. He turned slowly, brow furrowed in frustration. Despite his obvious aggravation, you noticed the quick shift of his eyes taking in your frame before looking back at your face. He crossed his arms tightly, scowling at you.

“The hell are you trying to pull huh?” His accent came out in his peeved tone. He walked up to you, but you stayed firmly in front of the door. “Move.”

You looked up at him, “Marc please, I can’t stop thinking about you since we kissed.”

He grabbed your shoulders roughly and you thought he might slot his lips over yours in a flurry of breathless kisses, but he didn’t. Instead he turned to scolding you as though you were a child, which only served to piss you off.

“It was a drunk mistake that never should’ve happened. I let it go, you should too,” his voice was low and harsh.

It was crushing to hear that he wasn’t even going to entertain the thought, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise. You weren’t sure what you’d expected. Marc was always trying to do what he considered to be the right thing, and now was no different. You were his best friend’s daughter. Of course he wasn’t going to do anything with you. But when you looked over at his flexing biceps on either side of you, and felt the strength in the way his hands held onto your shoulders, you couldn’t help the way you wanted him.

“I can’t. I…I think about you almost every night.”

There was another cold silence, save for the hum of the air conditioner that was still working exceptionally well. You weren’t normally so forward, but it was true. Despite your attempts to not think about him since your encounter, you’d failed. Most nights since then were spent with your fingers two knuckles deep in your soaking wet cunt, thinking about all the ways you wanted Marc to take you under your father’s roof.

“You’re stupid you know that? Just stop, you’re my friend’s kid. He know you act like this? Huh?”

If his tone wasn’t evidence enough that he was through with the conversation, his actions were. Marc moved you aside by force and then made a quick escape from your house. He hadn’t even finished working on the sink downstairs. You wondered if Marc was going to tell your dad about your conversation that day, but when your dad got home that night, he never said a word about it. You tried to move on, despite the ache in your chest.

----

You wondered if Marc would ever come back to your house again, until your dad was on his way out the door for work and told you he was coming back to finish the sink. Your cheeks grew hot immediately when you thought about it. Your dad left, and you rushed around getting ready for Marc to show up. You knew he’d told you to back off, but thoughts of him continued to plague your mind and you couldn’t seem to help yourself.

What the hell am I gonna wear, you asked yourself.

It was foolish to think about what you were going to wear in a silly attempt at seducing your dad’s best friend. You couldn’t even begin to understand why you were attempting to seduce your dad’s best friend. It was obvious that he didn’t want you, he’d pushed you out of the way the other day. That didn’t stop you from wondering what it would feel like to brush your lips over the soft skin of his throat again. It didn’t stop you from thinking about what his thick fingers would feel like stretching out your pussy while you dug your nails into his toned shoulders.

When he finally arrived, you waited to make sure he was working before you went downstairs. You were silent, knowing that alerting him to your presence might make him run off. You’d chosen to wear a short little skirt, a tank-top, and you opted out of your bra and panties. You needed to make it as easy as you could for him to take what he wanted from you. Despite the way he pushed you away, you knew he wanted you.

He was working hard, twisting a wrench around one of the pipes. His arm obstructed his view so he didn’t see you coming. Without a word, and without his knowing, you walked over to him, standing on either side of his thighs. He noticed you when you dropped to your knees, straddling him. He looked at you with that signatured furrowed brow.

“What the…you’re starting to be a real fuckin’ problem, you know that?” His voice was dark and threatening.

“Am I?” You asked in a coy tone, dragging your cunt over his crotch, feeling the brush of the denim against your clit.

He sat up fast, and you thought he might shove you off of him, but he didn’t. Instead, his hand grabbed your hip firmly. You gasped when his face got close to yours, eyes narrowed and wracked with guilt. His nose brushed against yours. You felt your hips involuntarily rock against the growing bulge behind his jeans.

“What’s it gonna take for you to let this go, huh?” He used one hand to push your skirt back while the other slid up your inner thigh. “What’s it gonna take for you to stop this shit?”

You put both of your hands on his shoulders for stability. His fingers found your folds and you felt your entire body surge with desire. Marc’s chest rumbled when he leaned in to steal your moans in a mess of deep kisses. His grasp on your thigh was so tight it left divots in your skin. He pulled you forward, sliding his middle finger deep into your channel.

“Fuck, I get you that worked up?” He said against your lips.

You hummed an affirmative into his mouth. He slid another finger in, and already you felt the delicious stretch of his thick digits testing your hole. It was a tight fit, two that is, and it felt better than you could’ve dreamed. If you’d known it was going to be like this, you might’ve been more persistent when he came up to your room the week before. He curved them, touching that sweet spot that made you whine in response.

“Where are all the boys your age? Why aren’t you going after them, hm? You like pissing me off?”

You didn’t want to answer him, because the truth was stupid. You didn’t care about the “boys your age”. Most of them wouldn’t know their way around a pussy if you had an arrow pointing to all the important parts for them. They also didn’t know you like Marc did. Marc was there to talk to you on the late nights after a family barbecue when you couldn’t sleep and your dad was already in bed. He was there to judge your prom date with a threatening glare if the guy ever tried to hurt you, and he was there when you left for college, making sure you knew how to properly use your pepper spray keychain.

He was there for you now when you were wet and dripping down his wrist while moaning one desperately hungry kiss after another over his lips. The third finger hurt a little, but the ache of the burn became more bearable the more he worked in and out of you. Marc brought his face to your throat, leaving soft kisses there that had your cunt fluttering over his thick fingers.

“M-Marc I’m…I’m so close I–”

“Sh, just shut up. Don’t want to hear it.”

You didn’t know if it was the guilt causing him to act so cruel, but it didn’t matter to you at that moment. You were there, seconds from sweet release, but the beep of a car door locking froze you both to your core. Marc pulled his hand from you, leaving you feeling empty. You stood fast and ran up the stairs quickly, leaving Marc down there to deal with your father. You felt bad, but knew he could handle it.

When you got to your room, you could hear them start talking downstairs.

“Hey Marc!” Your dad said as he walked in, “how’s it coming?”

You heard Marc huff out a laugh, “it’s not.”

----

It would be a lie to say you weren’t thrilled at the prospect of Marc coming by to check on you while your dad was out of town for the week. You wondered if he was excited too, or if he wished that he’d never met your dad now that things had become more complicated between the two of you. Complicated wasn’t even the right word for it, it wasn’t like this was something you did regularly. You hadn’t even seen him since he fingered you by the sink two weeks ago. He seemed to be limiting his time spent at your house those days.

You understood, you weren’t stupid, but at the same time it didn’t change how badly you wanted to see him again. In fact, most days, he was all you thought about. Something about him was intoxicating. Maybe it was the danger of getting caught? Or perhaps it was the thrill of something new? It could also be the fact that he was older, and you had a feeling he knew exactly how to make you come undone like no one ever had before.

When he finally showed up, it was after dinner. You were sitting on the couch watching some crappy movie about five guys taking down a Columbian drug lord. You paused the movie and turned around to see him standing there. He ran his hand over his face and crossed his arms over his chest. You felt your heart rate picking up.

“I’m just here to check in on you, I don’t want any funny business.” He said firmly.

You gulped, and nodded, “okay, yeah that’s…I understand.”

He dropped his hands to his pockets. You watched his entire body relax before your eyes. While you understood that he didn’t want to continue the little thing you two had going on, it didn’t change the fact that you still wanted him, badly. Marc’s face looked irritated, nothing new there, but there was a mild softness to his brow.

“Well, I’m just watching this dumb movie…do you wanna watch with me?” You gestured to the other side of the couch.

Marc sighed before nodding and walking over to sit as far from you as possible on the other side of the couch. You pressed play and sat in silence for some time. Just being in his presence was making your mind buzz. You couldn’t stop replaying him fingering you by the sink on repeat in your head. When you looked over at him, his eyes were trained on the television, not because he was interested, no, it was painfully clear that he was trying to avoid eye contact with you. You couldn’t sit there anymore. The ache between your legs was growing and if you didn’t go take care of it, you were going to do something to upset him.

“I have to use the bathroom, you don’t need to pause, I'll be right back.”

You went upstairs and closed the bathroom door behind yourself. You knew it would be suspicious if you spent too much time in there, but at the very least you needed to clean yourself up. You were soaked, so wet that you probably left a mark on the couch downstairs and you didn’t know what to do. What if he saw it? Surely he’d be upset if he thought you might be thinking about him again.

When you were finished wiping up, you opened the door. You were fully prepared to go down there and tell him to leave, but you didn’t make it that far. He was standing right outside the bathroom door, eyes looking you over like he might devour you.

“Marc I–”

He stole your next words when he slotted his lips over yours. Your mind went blank, focusing only on the way his tongue tasted when it entangled with yours. His hands grabbed your shoulders, sliding down until he found purchase on your hips. A soft moan slipped through your lips while you brought your hands to the waistband of his pants. You weren’t going to beat around the bush this time, you knew exactly what you wanted and you intended to take it. 

You brushed your fingers over his pubic hair, relishing the way it felt against your skin. Marc lifted you by your rear, and you were forced to grab his broad shoulders for stability. He carried you to your room and gently laid you down on the bed, never disconnecting his lips from yours. Marc started grinding his hips against you, the hard prod of his erection apparent through his jeans.

“This what you wanted from me?” He looked at you with a combination of anger, guilt, and lust, “think you can even handle it?”

You whined, “yes, I need it, please Marc.”

In a blur, you and Marc got your clothes off so your bare chests were against each other. His skin was deceptively soft. The feeling of his thick cock gliding over your inner thigh was maddening. You arched your back upward and brought your hands around the base of Marc’s neck. He used both of his hands to pin your wrists down above your head.

“You turned out to be such a fuckin’ brat you know that?” He was almost growling out his words.

“Guess you’ll have to put me in my place-OH SHIT!”

Marc thrust himself into you and buried his face in your neck. You weren’t quiet while he moved at an unforgiving pace. His lips dragged over your throat, leaving soft kisses in their wake. The juxtaposition of between his harsh fucking and tender kissing was making your mind go blank. Everything he did felt so good, better than you could’ve imagined. You still couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Marc-feels so good fuck-yes!” You shouted through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I bet it does honey, bet it feels really fucking good. You happy now? You glad you got me to fuck you? Hm?!”

Marc was taking his guilty conscience out on you. He picked his head up and looked down at you, grabbing your jaw tightly in his hand. You whimpered at his firm grip, but you were enjoying the way he manhandled you. His lips were pulled together in a thin line while he huffed in tandem with his thrusts. A few stray hairs fell down from their normally slicked back place and into his eyes. Fuck he’s so pretty.

“Yeah, I am,” you taunted, knowing it would only serve to piss him off even more. “Are you really going to act like-oh shit-like it doesn’t feel good? You make me so wet-fuck!”

He was slamming your bed against the wall with how hard he would pull back and then snap his hips forward into you. You were writhing underneath him from the sensations all over your body, but you couldn’t move your arms still. He went back to sucking on your neck, and you were surprised when his hands slid off of your wrists and moved to intertwine your fingers in his.

Marc was being intimate with you.

Just when you thought it couldn’t feel any better, he was starting to nuzzle his nose behind your ear, taking a deep breath and inhaling your scent. His movements slowed to a more even pace, as though he were trying to savor every delicious movement, rather than fuck the guilt away. You turned your head to the side, meeting with Marc’s lusty and hooded gaze. Electricity sparked in your stomach at the sight of him.

“Marc–”

He started kissing you again, as though the sound of your voice was going to cause him harm if he had to hear you speak any longer. You wondered if it reminded him of who he was sleeping with. You didn’t care that he was your dad’s best friend anymore, you hadn’t for a while. Nothing had ever felt so good in every way. His hands squeezed around you tighter, and you heard him start moaning louder into you.

“Gonna fill your little pussy up baby, then we’ll see how mouthy you are.”

You couldn’t speak as your climax approached faster than you’d anticipated. All you could do was let your eyes roll back and your body melt into the bed. You felt your cunt squeezing around his thick cock as he filled you with his hot spend. Fuck he sounds so good. He was moaning deep rasps into your ear while he fucked his cum into you.

When his thrusts finally slowed and you were both a sated and panting mess, he pulled out of you. You mumbled about the towel on your dresser that he used to clean himself off and then toss to you. You wiped yourself up and then slowly stood, starting to change into your clothes.

“You can stay,” you said to Marc, hoping that he wasn’t going to just fuck you and leave, but you knew better.

Marc finished getting dressed and then he looked at you, brows furrowed and guilt etched into every pore on his face. You knew that he was going to say no, so when the words left his lips you weren’t surprised. That didn’t change the disappointment that you took with you downstairs while saying goodbye.

“We can’t do this again,” Marc said coldly in the doorway, “it’s done…alright?”

You nodded sullenly. He nodded in return and left. You were alone again.

You weren’t sure why it made you emotional to hear him say the words ‘it’s done…alright?’, but you felt a pit in your stomach. Was it because he’d been so intimate with you not ten minutes ago? Was it because he made you feel like no one else ever had? Perhaps it was a combination of both. Either way, you spent the evening finishing that terrible movie with your face buried in a box of tissues, just begging for sleep to take you away from your overwhelming feelings.

----

You didn’t see Marc again for three weeks. So much happened in three weeks and you were determined to act normal when you saw him again after that time had passed. When your dad had told you he was coming over for dinner, you froze. It had been a while since you and Marc had been in the same room, and even longer since you’d been in the same room together with your father present. The pit in your stomach was already forming.

Your phone buzzed on the counter and you picked it up. Joey, the guy you’d met last week at the local coffee shop was asking if you were still on for tomorrow night. You replied, ‘yes’, and then put your phone in your pocket. As hard as it was, going out with someone else was a necessary step in getting things back to normal. What were you holding out for anyway? For Marc to come in and sweep you off your feet? To tell your dad that he’d been sleeping with you and that you were going to be together now? Maybe if you both had a death wish, that would be a perfect plan.

When he walked into the house, burgundy shirt hugging his chest a little too tight for your sanity, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was still so handsome. It’s not like you expected that to change, but you’d hoped that maybe you would’ve stopped mentally putting him on a pedestal by now so you could move on. But you didn’t, and you couldn’t.

“Hey, Marc.” You said softly as he made his way to the dining room.

“Hey.” He actually looked at you this time, as if he wasn’t going to burn alive by meeting your gaze.

The heat rose to your cheeks in a rush, making you feel lightheaded. You sat down at the table and both Marc and your father joined. The small talk was just what you needed; your dad asking Marc how business was going and Marc asking you about your job hunt. Marc was making a career out of drinking his wine. If anything was a sign of his nervousness it was that. You were glad that you weren’t the only one feeling the awkward weight in the air.

“So, why don’t you tell Marc about…you know,” your dad gave you a knowing look.

You shifted nervously, “um, well…” you looked into Marc’s dark brown eyes. His brow was knitted together tightly, “I’m going on a date tomorrow with a guy I met at the coffee shop up the road.”

You swigged your own wine down in one gulp. It was quiet except for the ticking clock above the archway to the kitchen. Your silverware clanked on the plate while you poked the lettuce from your salad. You looked back up at Marc.

“You like this guy?” Marc finally asked, never taking his gaze off of you.

“I don’t know,” you tried to sound indifferent, “only talked to him a couple of times.”

Marc paused before responding, “good…it will be good for you to find someone you can spend time with.”

This conversation wasn’t about you and Joey.

“Yes…and someone who isn’t going to just take advantage of me,” you stabbed your fork into your food harshly.

“Oh definitely,” he sounded sarcastic, “and make sure you’re careful with what you wear and how you act, some guys your age might get the wrong idea about the kind of girl you are.”

Asshole.

“He’s right, you know.” Your dad chimed in, seemingly oblivious to the private conversation you and Marc were having right under his nose.

“So are you saying I dress like a slut?” You stared at him, waiting to see how he planned to answer that one.

“Alright now you’re just acting like a brat, I never said–”

“Who wants more wine?” You asked, getting up and going to the kitchen and trying to end the awkward back and forth that you, admittedly, started.

The glasses of wine were filled while you and Marc continued your eternal staredown that your dad seemed oblivious to. You both guzzled down three more glasses each while your father and he entertained more small talk. When dinner concluded, he got up and went outside to start putting together a fire, and your dad asked you to do the dishes and join them when you were finished.

You did the dishes, but you didn’t join them. You told your dad you weren’t feeling well and instead retreated to your room. The last thing you wanted to do was continue the awkwardness that transpired at the dinner table. You thought that would be the end of it, that Marc would’ve had enough of your attitude and never want to speak to you again.

You were wrong.

Your father had gone to bed almost a half hour before you heard Marc working his way upstairs. You thought for sure he would walk right by your room and go to the guest room, but he didn’t. Marc twisted your door handle and walked in, closing the door quickly while he stepped inside. You sat up and looked at him quizzically, rubbing the fatigue from your eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked.

Marc sat down next to you, leaning over so his face was close. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. He reached a hand up to cup your cheek, you felt him pulling you closer.

“You know exactly what I’m doing in here,” he said in a low whisper.

Of course you did. His lips were soft and tasting of liquor when he pressed them to yours. His tongue tasted even more like alcohol, but you didn’t mind. Whether it was the intoxication, or maybe he was just more comfortable with you now, his tongue felt soft while it melted against yours.

“So you have a date? Hm?” Marc looked at you, eyes dark and brow furrowed.

So that’s what this was about.

You nodded, “mhm.”

“He can’t do for you what I can do honey.” He dropped his hand from your cheek and rested it on your waist. He kissed your neck right by your ear and said, “I know just what you like.”

“I can go on a date with him…in public.” A breathy moan escaped your lips as he sucked on your skin more.

He stopped and looked at you again, “that’s not fair.”

“Nope it’s not.”

“I could take you out if–”

“But you can’t so–”

“-so, he can’t make you feel the way–”

“Maybe he can–”

“Shut the hell up.” Marc’s mouth covered yours, rendering you silent save for the moans escaping you.

He slid you forward so you were laying down and then pulled your covers off your body. That’s when he noticed that you were in nothing but a t-shirt and your underwear. His mouth closed over yours, and his hand trekked over your lower abdomen and tucked into the hem of your panties. You felt the pad of his thick middle finger brush against your clit. You could hear the wet sound it made when he started circling there.

“You’re such a little brat, you know that?” He was so breathless.

“I know,” you said just above a whisper. You arched your cunt toward him, chasing the feeling his fingers gave you .”You sound like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not, you can do whatever you want, not gonna stop you.”

“I want you, and you do keep stopping me.”

Marc sounded like an animal the way he grumbled and pulled your panties down to your ankles. You grabbed his pants and worked on getting them off, hearing his belt clank against the floor when he tossed them aside. You writhed under him, feeling the way his fat cock brushed your inner thigh. You could’ve cried it felt so fucking good to just have him touching you. Marc was right…that other guy would never be able to give you what he did. He could never make you feel the way Marc made you feel.

His erection was prodding at your hole, the leaking tip testing to make sure you were ready to take him. You grabbed his hip, pulling forward while arching into him, feeling it go in just a little further. You were feeling needy and impatient.

“Marc please,” you begged, “please.”

He dropped down to his elbows, resting on either side of your head and caging you in. You leaned up and kissed him. One of his large hands cupped your clothed breast as he thrusted full to the hilt inside of you. If not for his mouth covering yours, you would’ve screamed and awoken your father who was sleeping only two doors down in the hall. He pumped slowly, being careful not to make the bed creak.

“Better be quiet, keep your pretty little mouth shut honey.” Marc was whispering harshly while glaring down at you.

The head of his cock dragged against that spot deep inside that you could never quite reach on your own. You choked on the cries that your lungs tried to punch out of you. You wondered if this other guy would make you feel like your guts were being pushed aside every time he plunged his length deep inside of you. You wondered if he would make it hard for you to breathe every time his girth twitched in response to your fluttering walls. Mostly, you wondered if he would act like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen every time his eyes landed on yours.

A gasp fell from your lips.

“You trying to wake up daddy? Hm? Want him to hear his little girl getting railed out of her mind?”

“N-no it just…it feels so good,” you whined. 

“I know baby, oh yes I know,” his voice was low, “no one else can make you feel like I do, right?” His voice was rough and wrecked.

“No one…n-no one, Marc.” You were struggling to keep your voice down so he covered your mouth with a large hand.

“That’s my girl.”

My girl, you thought. He said you were his girl…you wondered if he meant those words or if it was the alcohol talking.

“I’m always going to know what you need. I’m always going to know how to make you cry and squirm and fucking-fuck-baby-squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight-shit.” He started moving faster, you heard the bed creaking and you began to panic.

“Mmmm!” You couldn’t get a word out.

You felt numb, and at some point his hand became slick over your lips with the drool that leaked out beyond your control. Your mind was gone, and all you could focus on was the pleasure rolling through you with every smooth glide of his cock through your channel. Your body trembled beneath him. Your knuckles ached from how hard you grabbed his hips.

“Are you going to be a good and quiet little girl for me when you come? Or are you going to embarrass yourself, hm?” Marc’s grunts were getting louder and you started to feel nervous. “Oh honey, you feel so good. Such a tight little pussy baby-f-fuck.”

You both came at the same time, bodies pressed into each other as tight as you could so you could feel it. You noticed the way his abdomen flexed against your tummy with every pleasured groan that escaped him. You noticed how his lips tightened along with his closed eyelids; you noticed the way his cock pulsated, stretching you out while filling you to the brim with his hot cum as your cunt clenched around him firmly.

God you just wished he could stay. You wished so badly that he could just lay there in your arms when he was done and the two of you could drift off to sleep together. There was hope though. He called you his girl. He would only say that if it meant…

“Marc,” you said finally as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“Yeah?” He slid his underwear on over each leg.

“If you’re saying I’m your girl, does that mean we’re…you know?”

He looked at you with a raised brow, “what? Oh…no it’s…it’s not a thing.”

You couldn’t help the heartbreak that fell over you. You weren’t sure what you were honestly expecting. It was dumb to think anything else would’ve come from this. What were you thinking? That Marc really meant he was going to…what…go into your dad’s room and tell him that you were dating now? That he was just going to hold your hand in public and shout to the world that you two were seeing each other despite him being your dad’s best friend?

Of course not. Marc would never. The guilt would eat him alive more than it already had. You were stupid for even suggesting such a thing. He probably wished he’d never slept with you in the first place.

“Oh.”

He sighed and put his hand on the door handle.

“You have a date tomorrow, you should go on it and enjoy it.” He opened the door, letting the light from the hall pour into your bedroom. “Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

“That’s it then? You’re done with this?”

“Never should’ve started this in the first place. Try to have fun. I’m sorry.”

The door closed, and you just felt empty inside. 

----

You’d never felt so stupid.

There you were, standing in the rain outside of the restaurant where you’d been stood up. Your dad was gone for the weekend on business, and you didn’t know who else to call, that’s why you called him. He’d always be there for you, you knew that. No matter the situation, no matter the time, he would always come to your rescue.

Marc.

He pulled up to you, stopping fast by the sidewalk and getting out of the car. He ran over to you and immediately took off his jacket to put it around your bare arms, but not before muttering about how dumb it was for you to wear something so impractical in the first place. You pulled the coat closer to your body as he opened the passenger’s side door for you and you sat down inside.

You looked like a drowned rat as you observed yourself in the mirror. Your makeup was running down your cheeks and your tight red dress was soaked through. He was right, you were dumb, but not just for your clothing choices. You were dumb for thinking you could avoid him, for thinking you didn’t want him, and for thinking even for a second that you could possibly grow to love anyone besides him…but he didn’t love you. He’d made that abundantly clear.

The ride to your house was silent, awkwardly so. You felt a pang in your chest over the fact that Marc wasn’t talking. It meant, to you, that he was serious about his words the night before.

“Thanks,” you said as he pulled into the driveway.

He put the car in park and turned off the engine, “couldn’t leave you out there in the rain. Your dad woulda killed me.”

“You can come inside if you want. Dad has some extra beers in the fridge.” You opened your door.

“I probably shouldn’t I–”

You paused for a moment and then muttered, “fine.” You took off his coat and shoved it in his lap. “Goodnight, thanks again for the ride.”

You tried to wait until you got inside to start sobbing, feeling vulnerable and rejected, but you failed, feeling the tears coming down along with the rain. You never should’ve made all those moves on him over the course of the last couple months. It was all a huge mistake, and deep down you’d always known that, but now after your failed date, and Marc’s refusal to comfort you, you felt the weight of your stupidity on your shoulders. The rain drowned out his footsteps, so it shocked you when you turned to close the door and he was holding it open, pushing through to follow you inside. That’s when he noticed the fresh tears escaping you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, furrowing his brow, eyes darting rapidly between yours.

“No, Marc, no I’m not okay!” You walked to the living room and stood with your back to him. “Just go,” you said when you heard him coming in behind you.

“Why are you doing this? Huh?” He was raising his voice at you.

You flipped around and looked at him incredulously, “excuse me? Why am I doing this? You are just as guilty as I am! I am sick of you acting like the victim here.”

He stepped closer, “I know I kissed you that first night, alright? I know I shouldn’t have done that but everything else is on you.”

“Oh so I’m the one who made you walk into my bedroom last night? I’m pretty sure I went to bed and avoided you.” You prodded his heaving chest with your index finger, “you’re the one who came into my room to torture me last night.”

“Oh really? You call that torture?” He stepped closer, chest brushing against yours. “Didn’t sound like torture honey, sounded like you were having the time of your fuckin’ life! You know what’s torture? When your best friend’s kid acts like a goddamn tease and he’s expected to keep his hands to himself.”

“Oh poor YOU! Big strong guy getting seduced by a little girl? Fuck you Marc! You didn’t have to do anything and you know it!” You shoved him with your arms, but he stood like a brick wall, “get the hell out of my house.”

“That what you want? You want me to go?”

His face was close, nose brushing against yours. You were mad at him. You had half a mind to slap him and push him away again, but you didn’t. You stupidly kissed him, letting his body melt into yours. You were crying even harder now, and Marc stopped, pulling back to look at you and cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, I don’t ever want you to go, I don’t know what to do but I don’t ever want to be without you.” You said finally, letting your feelings come out.

Marc nodded, breathing heavily while he scooped you up, holding you against him and walking you to the couch with his lips over yours. In under a minute he had his pants around his thighs, and your panties pulled aside so he could plunge his cock into your wet heat once more. You both let out a pleasured cry into the living room.

“Marc please,” you looked at him, not really sure what you were begging for, but you were begging. 

“Please what?” He rolled his hips forward, never taking his eyes off you, “say it honey.”

“Please don’t push me away again, I can’t take it.”

You had more tears trickling down your face. Marc brushed them away with his thumbs. He kissed you softly, moving his hips at a slow, sensual pace. He looked at you with a forlorn expression. He was filled with pain, guilt, and something you couldn’t put your finger on.

“I won’t. I promise.”

He grabbed your hip and started moving faster, pulling you in as he pushed forward. You’d never felt anything like it, the unseen but warm comfort that filled you with his words. You brought your lips to his again, tangling one hand in his hair while the other squeezed the meat of his behind.

His moans made your body feel soft and made you pliant for him. You would’ve given him even more of yourself if it were at all possible. He rested his forehead on yours, eyes boring into you while he continued his smooth glides deep into your cunt. You’d never felt so connected to anyone, you’d never felt so special to anyone.

“Are you ok?” He asked, moving to kiss your cheek.

“Y-yes, mm, yes. Better now.”

“There’s my girl.” He cooed, forcing your stomach to flutter.

“Oh, Marc.” You whined in his ear.

He hummed into your neck, brushing his lips there gently. You felt him thrusting harder, stuffing you and stretching you wider with every forward snap of his hips. His breath was punching out of his lungs right into your skin. You felt an overwhelming swell in your chest, a desire to hold onto him and never let go. You felt him getting harder as he moved. His breathing was heavy and rough against your neck.

“Gonna make you feel good all the time honey, always gonna fill you up,” he started moving faster. “It’s insane how-fuck-how good you feel.”

“Good enough to make a good boy misbehave?” Your giggle was followed by a sharp gasp when Marc nipped the skin on the side of your neck.

He started really fucking you, skipping over the part where he gradually ramped up his speed and moving straight into the skin slapping thrusts you craved. You could tell he was getting close, forcing you so roughly into the couch you thought you might become one with it.

“I think if anyone’s been misbehaving, it’s been you honey, couldn’t just let me be could you? Needed to feel me that bad? You’re always so wet. S-so fucking wet for me.”

“Always so hard for me,” you dug your nails into the flesh of his rear.

“Hear that?” He stopped, sliding back until his cock was about to fall out of you. As he pushed back into you, painstakingly slow, you heard the sound of his cock moving along your slick coated walls until he was flush against you again, “such a wet little girl.”

You were never going to last if he kept talking to you like that. Your pointless contest of who was harder or who was wetter ended with his display. He’d won, and that was fine with you. He was right anyway, you were soaking wet, slick coating your thighs and probably his too. You brought both hands to his cheeks and made him face you, lips pressing to yours while you both approached your climax.

“Are you gonna come for me? Make a mess all over your daddy’s couch?”

“Yes, oh fuck yes!” You kissed him deeper, feeding him your heavy groans while your orgasm overcame you.

You arched into him, feeling his mouth while he kissed through your pleasured cries. He huffed loudly while he came, holding you closely as his cock pulsated hot ropes into you. You felt like, when you were finished, your bodies let out an exhale of relief. All the emotions, feelings and physical desires pent up inside of you both were released with that one moment you shared. You’d come to an agreement, you were going to be together.

“Where do we go from here?” You asked, looking deep into Marc’s eyes while he grew soft inside of you.

He sighed heavily, “we’re going to have to find a way to tell your dad.”

No matter how tough things would be, you knew everything would work out now that you had Marc, and Marc had you.

Moon Knight DBF Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

As a friendly reminder, I don't have a taglist anymore. You can follow @melodygatesupdates and turn on notifications for updates.

[slutfactory]

‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄 18O ,, haikyuu salt pillars + m!reader

‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌featuring ,, rintarou, sakusa, tsukishima ✦ author's note ,, decided to keep it short cuz i was taking too long. ignore any mistakes and sorry for not posting aaaaa

✦ tsukki was, is, and always will be a brat. but compared to the others, he's relatively easier to tame; and he's quite salty about it. <3

✦ he doesn't outwardly express that he wants to have sex, but instead keeps pushing your buttons until you decide to punish him. since kei likes to run his mouth, what better punishment is there than to throatfuck him until he's on the knife's edge of consciousness?

✦ kei loves having you destroy his throat. his pride won't allow him to say it, but you can make an educated guess purely based on how often it happens. luckily, he doesn't talk much, so kanji and kyotani don't question his silence.

✦ btw, make sure to take off his glasses before sex. he says that he's worried about breaking them, but never takes them off himself.

✦ rintarou is by far the worst of the three. he knows exactly what makes you mad and uses that to his advantage to get what he wants. ‘what does he want?’ you might be asking—. he wants to be fucked silly like the attention-craving whore you both know he is.

✦ he loves having you manhandle him and treat him like a fuckdoll. just the thought of it could make him cream himself. to put it simply, suna is a masochist. a kinky one at that. spanking, degradation, feminization, bondage/any kind of restraint play, hair pulling, pet play, food play, mild knife or gunplay—there's no end to it. (or none that you've seen, anyway.)

✦ rin is definitely a biter/scratcher. if someone were to look at your shoulder and upper back, they'd think you were attacked by a wild animal. by technicality, they wouldn't be wrong.

✦ it's almost funny how hypocritical sakusa is. the way he'd be a moaning mess, covered in his cum, and call you filthy; it's more impressive than anything.

✦ only sakusa could ride someone and deny feeling any pleasure despite cumming more than once. or greedily swallow cum after saying he didn't like when you ‘violate’ his mouth with your ‘filthy semen’. plus, when you don't do what he secretly wants, he'll wait until you fall asleep and then literally deep-throat you. not even joking.

✦ omi likes being marked, so leave bites n hickeys all over him. he doesn't undress in front of others, so no one else will see them.. hopefully.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

NERD!MIGUEL IS SO REAL I LUV HIM <3333

NERD!MIGUEL IS THERE I KNOW IT

Like...You saw what he said to Gwen when she called it a watch (which IT IS).

[omg she's so tiny small next to him]

He's a NERD. He thinks this stuff is COOL. He's WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK.

Like I imagine he's used to it by now - people's eyes glazing over when he begins to explain something technical or program-y, like Lyla's algorithms or the Multiverse Anti-Glitch feature of the watches.

He's put SO much work into all of this, the whole facility and the tech.

He made Lyla himself, but he knows that most people aren't really interested in that. So he's learned to simplify things.

If you ask a question, like how he made Lyla - he'll answer it basic and to the point.

_-_ 'She's an AI. She's my assistant and the notification system within your watch.'

He probably won't even look up from his work, thinking it's just the routine questions everyone asks before moving on to the next thing.

BUT IF YOU ASK FURTHER - Miguel's like

Because it's not often someone actually like...does that.

It's probably very rare that someone shows interest in his technological, engineering, or physics studies - all of which he's INCREDIBLY talented at and actively working on

You ask him how long it took him to make her, he says a year or two.

You tell him how impressive that is and BOOM NERD!Miguel.

He's telling you how her voice detection took the longest, and how her multiverse-monitoring probability algorithm was something he had to tweak twenty thousand times.

You compliment him about the design of the watch, he's like

_-_ 'I still have the protypes.' And he's ready to show you different ones, different shapes and materials he considered using, but eventually ruled out through experiments and tests

AND DON'T GET HIM STARTED ON THEORIES OH GODDDD

You mention the words 'String Theory' or 'Time Dilation' around him and you will NEVER hear the end of it.

He has so many opinions on it he's never had the chance to share.

Ideas and theories about things like fourth dimensions, worm holes, black holes, and dozens of other theoretical scientific concepts.

I mean, he MADE time travel. He is an EXPERT in that stuff.

I would KILL to have a Time Travel Movie Marathon with Miguel.

Sitting on the couch and watching things like Back to the Future, and he describes what they got right, what would be impossible, how it could work in theory.

He probably talks through the whole movie, and picks each one apart. You watch Doctor Who and he WILL NOT SHUT UP.

He's probably AMAZIINNGG at math.

Like math IS science. It's the answer for science. So he's probably a natural master.

You can be like 'Miguel, What's 34% of 12,967?' - Without blinking he'd be like

_-_'...I'm guessing 4408, or something? I don't know, am I right? Ask Lyla, don't ask me.'

But you don't need to ask Lyla cause HE'S RIGHT

HISTORY TOO!

I mean... the man time-travels. I think he'd have at least a good grasp on history, and time periods. Thinks like ancient roman historians and how their thoughts effect modern science, and how certain events effected the flow of time throughout history.

I imagine he finds it so fascinating, seeing the vast differences that can span in universes, just from one small change. Maybe he even finds comfort in it, seeing how histories and stories have a natural flow in a way fiction can only hope to imitate.

I love me some Nerd!Miguel.

I wanna get in bed with Miguel and by that I mean I want to sit next to him as he sits in bed reading a book on the Theory of Relativity with reading spectacles and a mug of sleepytime tea okay

A Miguel who runs up to his partner like 'Read this,' and he's all proud as he hands you a notepad full of numbers. But to him it's a formula he's been working WEEKS on, one that'll make Lyla run smoother, and everything much easier and he wants you to think he's cool for it

A Miguel who spends date nights watching NatGeo documentaries for fun

NERDY NERD MIGUEL DORKY MILD NERDY MIGUEL

[crosshairlovebot]

a tender homecoming / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: in which a tired crosshair returns home to you.

word count: 3,334

warnings: non-explicit nudity (i guess), mild sexual references. otherwise, this is just soft domestic fluff with crosshair.

seeing crosshair on mount tantiss broke my heart, and i couldn’t get the idea of crosshair loving having his hair washed out of my head either. so i wrote this <3 there are also not enough soft crosshair fics out there, so i’m on a mission to remedy that. 

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

The sun had just set on Coruscant, and a holo was playing in the background as you did the dishes, humming quietly. It had been a long day, your boss had been breathing down your neck all day, and it was nice to finally be home in your little apartment, relaxing. You’d gotten home a couple of hours ago, had a shower, made yourself dinner, poured a drink, and caught up on some of your favourite holodramas.

Spending time alone was something you’d grown used to. You enjoyed it, but it was hard to ignore the moments when you missed him.

He was gone a lot. More than he was here. For the nature of his job meant that he was off with his brothers, fighting for the Republic. It was hard not to worry about him; not to worry if he was okay, whether he was hurt. He would send short messages when he could, but if he was on a sensitive mission, you might not hear from him for days, even a week. Those were the days your heart truly ached, the loneliness harder to bear.

Those days, you would lie in bed, unable to sleep, the soft hum of speeders unable to soothe you into a slumber. Staring up at the ceiling, wondering where he was. You would toss and turn, unable to get comfortable and longing for the one thing that would fix it.

Him.

You'd get up and grab one of his blacks he’d left here from the drawer and bring it to bed. Balling it up and holding it in your arms, imagining you were holding him instead. Your nose against the soft fabric and breathing in the smoky scent that lingered there. Only then were you able to drift off and dream of him.

It was a constant feeling; the aching, the longing, the wanting. A dull throbbing in your chest that remained there, unmoving. You carried it with you always, a reminder that he wasn’t here right now.

A constant reminder that you missed him.

Laughter rang out from the holo, filling the apartment as you washed your cup. There was a knock at the door, and you frowned. You weren’t expecting anybody.

You turned the water off and placed the cup on the rack, drying your hands, skeptically.

You didn’t live in the best neighbourhood. It was relatively safe, but there was the odd mugging every so often. So you were always weary of unexpected visitors or suspicious-looking people – especially since you lived alone.

Walking quietly to the door, you pressed the blue button on the panel next to it, and the screen lit up, revealing your unexpected guest. Your heart skipped several beats as you pressed the green button, opening the door.

“Crosshair?” you were unable to hide the shock and happiness from your voice, a grin exploding on your face at the sight of him.

“Hey, ca’tra,” he greeted with a small smile before you launched yourself into his arms. He grunted as he caught you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body. To hear that endearment from his lips, night sky, after so many weeks, you felt your heart expand and ache. You buried your face into his neck, breathing him in, and the vibrations of his words thrummed against your skin. “Good to see you.”

You gently drew back, your arms still holding him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home today.”

A ghost of a smile graced his face at the mention of this tiny apartment being his home. “I didn’t know. We were rerouted at the last minute.”

You smiled at him. It was like the galaxy knew; like the galaxy how much you were missing him and delivered him right to you. “Come inside,” you pulled away and moved to let him in. “I can’t tell you how much I missed you.”

Crosshair turned to you and smirked as you closed the door. “You don’t wanna try?”

You rolled your eyes, his familiar snark so comforting it was almost like he had never been gone. “I can show you how much later.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and drew your hips to his, he hummed. “Well then, I’m looking forward to that,” he squeezed your hips in his hands, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Mmhmm, I’m sure you are,” you bit back a smile as he inched his face closer to yours, his lips brushing gently against your jaw before they slowly moved to capture yours in a long-awaited kiss.

The kiss was like taking a breath after being without air, where the pain in your lungs disappears and your chest expands and fills with relief. The kiss was like warmth from a fire thawing cold skin, the heat moving through veins and bringing life back into them. The kiss was like waking up in the morning and letting your body stretch out across the sheets, waking up your limbs after sleeping for hours and they have that tingly feeling that tells you they’re awake now too.

The kiss was like returning home.

Melting into each other; there was nothing close enough, as he pulled your chest against his, his signature black and red plastoid armour pressing against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clutched at the grey hair at the nape of it, scratching there with your nails.

Crosshair moaned into your mouth, and you smiled before gently pulling away. You looked into those amber eyes that you’d memorised, their familiar patterns lit up with a soft kind of joy that told you without words how much he was happy to see you. Just in case you missed it in the kiss he’d just given you.

You rubbed an invisible spot on his jaw, the beginnings of stubble scratching against the pad of your thumb. “Have you eaten?”

Crosshair shook his head and moved his lips to your ear, nipping at the skin there gently. “Not yet.”

You brought your shoulder to your ear to move his attention away, his touch tickling you. “I’ll put some leftovers in the oven.” You extricated yourself from his arms. “If I had known you were coming, I would’ve cooked something nice.”

Crosshair bent and leant his forearms on the island, watching you move around the kitchen, assembling the leftovers on a tray. “I don’t need something nice, ca’tra. Just you.”

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You really missed me, huh?”

Crosshair only smiled in response, the one corner of his lips quirking up as he gazed at you.

You placed the tray in the oven and walked over to him. His whole body sagged against the counter, and you could see the tiredness he’d tried to hide in his eyes. When you reached him, he stands upright and places his hands on your hips almost immediately. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” you questioned.

He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he lied. You were good at reading him now.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” you looked up at him, tilting your head. Crosshair didn’t say anything, he only bent down and rested his forehead on your shoulder and drew you closer into his arms. You chuckled. “Why don’t I draw you a bath? The warm water will be nice,” you moved your hands to his hair again. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Crosshair groaned into your shoulder. “Kriff, that would be amazing,” he lifted his head up and meets your gaze. “Will you really?”

You smiled. “I will,” you gently push him away as the oven timer goes off, letting you both know the food is reheated. “Have your dinner and I’ll get the bath ready.”

Crosshair nodded and quickly dips down to give you one more chaste kiss before he moved over to the oven. You watched him as he grabbed his food, and swore under his breath as he pulled it out without oven mitts. You shook your head and made your way down the corridor to the bathroom attached to your bedroom.

The bath isn’t massive and is technically just a large shower bath that would barely fit Crosshair’s long legs, but it would do.

You pushed the curtain away and wipe the bath down with a wet cloth before turning on the water. Placing your fingertips in the stream, you adjust the temperature so it’s nice and warm before putting in the plug and letting it fill.

You rifle under your sink for some bath salts you splurged on and place a handful in the water, not too many, but enough to soothe his no doubt aching muscles. You then, in lieu of an actual bubble mixture, grabbed a bar of soap and held it under the stream of water so there would be some bubbles.

Just as the bath had filled and you turned off the water, Crosshair made his way in, now no longer attempting to hide his tiredness. A surprised look etched on his angular features once he saw what you had done.

“Did you eat?” you asked.

Crosshair nodded and looked at the bath longingly. You nodded at his armour. “Take that off.”

He smirked and started removing this armour. “Sir, yes, sir."

You rolled your eyes and retested the temperature of the water with your hand. Perfect.

Once Crosshair had removed his armour, he approached the bath. He removed the upper half of his blacks and placed the shirt in a pile with his armour. “Smells nice,” he remarked, his body brushing against yours in the small space.

You nodded, gaze lingering on his bare chest. It had been so long since you saw him shirtless. You studied the scars that were drawn on the skin, the small amount of grey hair nestled into his sternum; you wanted to run your hands over it, rake them over the skin. You swallowed. It wasn’t the time for that yet. “Take off your pants, the water’s getting cold.”

Crosshair arched a brow. “Somebody’s bossy tonight,” he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and then paused.

“What?”

“I don’t have the energy to remove them myself. You have to do it for me,” his lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh my god, Cross,” you laughed and shook your head and reached out to pull them down, his bare fingertips running over your collarbones.

You loved this side of Crosshair; the one that joked in this way. You so rarely saw it. You always felt special knowing he felt comfortable enough to show this side of him to you, and that it was yours and yours alone.

“Hmm, looks like you definitely missed me,” you remarked as he stood bare before you. Crosshair barked out a laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flip over.

Crosshair stepped inside the bath, one foot at a time. He groaned as he sat down in the water, the warmth enveloping his skin. He sat back against the tub and closed his eyes. His legs were too long for the bath, but it didn’t seem to faze him – he just sat his heels on the lip of the bath.

Leaning on the sink, you watched his body completely relax, his face softening. The perpetual crease between his brow disappeared and you smiled. “Nice?”

Crosshair hummed and reached a hand out to you, the water dripping over the tiles. You pushed off the sink with your hip and took his hand, moving to the side of the tub, and sitting on the tiles next to it.

With the other hand, you grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the water before running it down his arm, down to the hand you were still holding. His head had lulled to the side, leaning against the wall as he watched you. You gently scrubbed his skin, wiping away all the remnants of his perils and missions. You felt him relax in your grip, and when you looked up, his eyes were closed. You placed his arm back in the bath and then moved onto your knees to grab his other arm, gently repeating the process.

You did this silently, just letting him bask in the feeling of just being. You knew he so rarely had time to himself, almost always in the presence of his brothers. And although he was not alone now, it was quiet. The only sound was that of the water dripping from the tap, and of you placing the cloth in the water and drawing it back out.

You heard his breathing slow and deepen. He had needed this more than he had let on.

When you whispered that were done, he cracked open his eyes and pulled his hand out of yours, and lifted it to your chin, placing a finger there wordlessly. You let him study you, his steely eyes were soft as they roamed your face.

He was being extra touchy tonight. He always touched you, but these touches were different. These were savouring touches, and you wondered what he had seen on those missions with his squad, what had made him come back and be so openly tender? You dared not ask. This was not the moment. And you would not ruin his ease.

You grabbed his hand and kissed it. “Should I wash your hair now?”

Crosshair hummed again. He seemed to have lost all of his words in his relaxation. You chuckled and grabbed the shampoo bottle before taking off your socks. You were already wearing your pyjama shorts, so you stepped into the tub. Crosshair looked up at you, blinking as if taking a second to register what it was you were doing.

“I need to sit behind you, on the edge,” you explained. Crosshair frowned in confusion as he sat forward, and you stepped so you were sitting on the small lip of the bath where his head was, your back flat against the tiles with your feet inside the water on either side of his shoulders. You cupped your hands in the water and wet his hair. “Now lean back for me,” you said, and Crosshair did as he was told.

He looked back at you, and a smile graced his face. “You could just get in with me.”

You chuckled. “Next time,” you promised before you squirted some shampoo in your palms and lathered it up. “Ready?”

When Crosshair nodded and moved his head forward, you placed your fingers on his head and started slowly moving them in circular motions, massaging his scalp as well as washing his hair. You smiled when he moaned softly, his eyes closing and his arms wrapping around your calves.

“Kriff, ca’tra, that feels so good,” he strained out.

You smiled, insides going warm. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve it.”

Crosshair shook his head, silently disagreeing with you. He’s too relaxed to argue with you. You go from circular motions to long-drawn ones, moving from the front of his hairline, down to the nape of his neck. You circle your thumbs there before you slowly circle them up. Crosshair hums as he enjoys your touches, he opens his eyes and looks up at you, a look on his face you couldn’t decipher.

“What?” you smiled.

“Nothing,” he said after a moment, then closed his eyes again and a soft smile etched on his face. Warmth bloomed in your chest for him.

After a few minutes, you pulled your hands away. Crosshair’s eyes opened and he looked back at you, so you leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. “Okay, move forward, so I can grab some water to rinse this out.”

Crosshair sat up, no longer leaning, and you cupped your hands to grab some water, and let it fall over the back of his head, the shampoo running down his back. You repeated the action several times until all the shampoo was out.

And because you knew it would be funny, you smirked and took one last scoop of water and released it over the front of Crosshair’s head, so it ran down over his face.

He sputtered and gasped before he turned around, gripping the edge of the bath with a glare on his face. You laughed, but when he starts to smirk too, you knew you were in trouble. “Cross, no—!”

But it was too late. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you into the bath, pyjama shorts and all. You squealed as water sloshes over the sides and onto the bathroom floor. He then cupped his hands and splashed a handful of water onto your head. “Crosshair!” you gasped as you wiped your face.

Crosshair laughed, such a lovely sound it made your heart ache. He pulled you closer, moving the hair from your face. “That’s what you get,” a grin etched into his voice.

“My pyjamas are all wet now,” you pouted, pulling the wet material between your thumb and forefinger.

“Such a shame, guess you’ll have to take them off.”

You scoffed teasingly. “Oh, so that’s why you did it.”

He just shook his head. “Like I was going to have a bath without you in it with me.”

Crosshair helped you out of your pyjamas, plopping the wet garments on the floor.  You both manoeuvred so he’s resumed his previous position, but this time you were sat between his legs, your back against his chest. Crosshair grabbed the cloth you'd used on him, and he swiped it up and down your arms and your chest. You sunk into him, the comfort of his skin against yours was everything.

It was your turn to close your eyes as he drew patterns with soapy water over your arms. And then when he’d finished his painting, you traced circles on his palms as you talked about anything and everything.

You caught up on everything; telling each other things that you both already spoke about via messages but pretending it was the first time you’d heard it. He tells you about his brothers and their antics. You tell him about work and your boss who you think has a vendetta against you.

“Do you want me to take care of him? Because I can,” Crosshair said in such a serious voice as you played with his fingers that you collapsed into giggles – knowing that he was only half joking; knowing that if you asked, he would.

You both sat in content silence for a while. The water was growing cold, and you lifted your fingertips from the water, so they dripped in front of you. The sound echoed in the room. It was so peaceful, just lying here with him. To feel his solid chest behind you, to feel it move as he breathed in and out. To be caged in his limbs, his legs intertwined with yours, his fingertips dancing up and down your wet skin.

The water may be going cold, but your heart was not. Your heart was warm and full. You'd been hollow all these weeks without him, and now with him back, it was like he'd slotted back into you, completing everything and filling every crevice of you again. The emptiness was gone, consumed with Crosshair's return. You weren't sure how long he would be staying, but you were going to savour every moment of it. Every word, every touch. You'd memorise it all so you could file it away in your brain, and pull it out when he was gone again. These homecomings were precious, and you'd live in them for as long as you could.

“Crosshair?” You thought he may have fallen asleep when his hands had stilled, but he hummed in response, and you felt it vibrate against your back. You smiled. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Crosshair shifted underneath you, and his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close to him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Me too, ca’tra. Me too.”

incase it wasn’t clear, ca’tra means night sky :’) it feels like a nickname crosshair would use, and i feel like he loves nighttime so the fact that he uses it...well, you know :’)

thank you for reading <3

taglist (please let me know if you would like to be removed/added): @32rotations @crosshairs-wife @seriowan @fives-girlfriend @starrylothcat​ @crosshairsnose​ @solitaryclone

[blorb-el]

Psssst does the au superbat fic exist bc I waaaaaaaaant it

I want it too 😭 tragically it only exists in about........4.5k scattered scenes which I try to poke at in between working on my main project rn!

misc worldbuilding scraps that are currently rotating on the back burner:

(omegaverse) human instinct relies on scent > hearing > taste > sight to find compatible partners, kryptonian instincts lean on sight > hearing > scent > taste, hence the mating markings

omegaverse humans have a much higher degree of face blindness than we normal humans do lmao

helps clark pass, the more he pulls his scent back the more it fades away, clark kent smells so dull/insignificant/mild that it seems like he's got a medical condition (hypomyrodia). jonathan kent had this. when jonathan and martha found bby kal, he was scared and tried to match scents to the two humans who found him, which caused his kryptonian scent to quickly fade. a hypomyrodic pup would probably face high abandonment rates and low adoption rates, so it was probably a relief that two willing parents brought the pup in

kryptonians all pretty much exist along a relatively smooth spectrum of sexual characteristics and can transition somewhat like clownfish if there's a hormonal imbalance in their community. having zero (0) other kryptonians around does things to clark before he grows the fortress and is able to synthesize hormone stabilizers

humans meanwhile have ten major sexes because betas can be true beta, alpha-leaning, or omega-leaning depending on their recessive genes

poison ivy is x100 more horrifying in any omegaverse world. she only manages to zop clark though bc the pollen is enchanted. however it's enchanted to induce primal alpha hindbrain, which means something very different to lone kryptonians than packbonded humans

it would have been the norm on krypton to have one's facial markings out. kryptonians would pull them back if they were sick, or perhaps terrified... primal hindbrain clark looking around and seeing nothing but non-glowing faces, and it coming across as everyone around him fucking terrified of him

for the first few months of their acquaintance clark is like. im not sure what gender batman is and at this point i'm not sure its ok to ask (he can smell past the concealing patches to bruce's strong omega scent but the patches could also be doubling as, like, the equivalent of binders, could be that batman's gender is null, but he mixes in diluted alpha cologne, but that could just be for concealment/intimidation....???)

sun-powered kryptonians have a strong, distinctively alien but somewhat alpha-smelling scent (when they're not pulling it back) but barely leave any on people they try to scent with, and scents barely stick to them. when clark politely explains this to bb dickie hes just like well i guess ill just have to scent you for longer! and clark goes 🥺

at this early point in the timeline barry is the only known omega superhero so the tabloids are huge into superflash

anyway all that's just kind of fluff/details... the core theme i've been rotating around is overcoming real and genuine barriers to intimacy. the loneliness of knowing you're a square peg in a world of round holes, the necessary compromises of sanding away your corners, the joy of meeting someone who will stretch to meet you where you are. there's a fair few excellent fics of bruce uncomfortable in an omega's role and body, i want to come at it from a perspective where a xenomegaverse clark has to define what gender means to him, in the heightened roles of the omegaverse. we are looking also at layers of passing. when parts of your closet become your armor that protects but encumbers you, and other parts become your exoskeleton, which grow into who you are. we are looking at that comic about the orchid that has the pattern on it meant to appeal to an extinct species of bee. we are looking at compromise made of love and compromise made of fear. and we are looking at tentacles baby.................

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

Hi! Just wanna say real quick before i get to the point that i really love ur blog! Its been REALLY COOL to be able to scroll through and learn so much! Especially because you post a fair amount about western hognoses and garter snakes, wich are both some of my absolute favorites!

Uh, to the actial point of this ask though, i have a desision i need to make, and i know you cant/shouldnt make it for me, but i would really apreciate some advice if you can offer any.

See, my mum, brother, and I just bred our garter snakes for the first time, and while most of the babies were healthy, one of them has quite a few kinks in her spine. At first we only saw a couple, but as she got bigger we noticed more - at this point i think its about eleven kinks.

Even still though, she eats great, she does struggle to move around a bit but ive never seen her get somewhere she couldnt get out of, she's one of the bigger members of her clutter, she moves perhaps slightly less than the others and doesnt climb often if ever, but she does move around the tank throughout the day and at least occasionally climbs into the shallow water dish. Also, we know for a fact that she is passing food, as we put her in a seperate enclosure for about a week, and she definetly didnt seem to have any trouble with bowel movements.

Tbh i guess im not really asking for help to make a choice - honestly i probably made it a couple months ago - so much as your - an outsider's - opinion as to wether it was a good one, and wether or not we should stick to it.

Also uuhhhh hes a picture of her (my lil brother named her Ruby)

Thank you!

She's very cute, and from this picture, her body condition looks very good.

When it comes to snakes with spinal kinks, especially in cases like this where it looks like she's got a lot of relatively mild ones, the biggest thing is making consistent and honest quality of life checks. I've met snakes who look just like her who've lived long and happy lives; I've met snakes like her who started having a lot of pain a couple years in. As long as she's eating, passing waste, and can get around without pain, her quality of life is good.

If I were you, I'd just keep a close eye on her and keep a journal of her QoL. Be on the lookout for any signs of pain, like not wanting to move or holding herself funny. Sometimes kinks get better or worse with age - with snakes like her, I always say to just live in the now and be happy with the time you get together right now.

[voxofthevoid]

More sukuita for Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #3 🤘

I wanted to post the rimming scene I hinted at here this week, but I haven't managed to write that far—partly because Chapter 4 turned into an 8.2k beast. It also spiraled out of control in another way or three. I was intending on building up to the (relatively mild) monsterfucking over 6–8 chapters, but uh...Sukuna had other ideas. I can make him a demon instead of a sorcerer, but I can't make him not a whore, I guess!

Anyway, as per the results of yesterday's poll, have some eldritch hole! This is new to me—never messed around much with orifices before. It's nothing wild: precise control over anal muscles, more powerful constrictions, and...many mouths/tongues inside the anal cavity. Nothing to see here, folks.

CWs for dubcon, overstimulation, and inhuman anatomy of the aforementioned nature.

More pressure sinks into Yuuji—his wrists, his jaw, his stomach. It hurts, threatening to bruise him down to the bone, but the pain is drowned out by the rippling flesh dragging itself up his cock, as excoriatingly slowly as it took him. Yuuji’s eyes roll back, dark swapped out for dark, except the nothingness behind his eyes is normal in a way the church isn’t. A piercing pain he wasn’t even aware of vanishes from his mind, and it’s sweet and soothing for half a second before his entire being is narrowed to the movement on his cock.

And it’s movement like nothing else—a riot of it, not just the slow drag upward but also the lashing flesh inside. It’s like it’s battering Yuuji’s cock as it leaves him, those wet muscles clenching and clawing at every inch of flesh they release, and by the time only the head is still inside, Yuuji’s cock feels like an open wound, pulsing with a raw hurt that’s still so sweet.

The hand on his jaw smothers every cry, but they still writhe in his aching throat.

Sukuna slides off his cock with a wet noise that cuts through the roaring in Yuuji’s ears, making him shiver. His cock’s throbbing in the open air, and it feels wrong to be so exposed, even though Yuuji’s more used to that than the brutal clutch of a body, and before the loss can really dig its teeth in, it’s back—just pressure at first, solid warmth grazing the tip of his cock.

Yuuji bucks up helplessly, but it moves away, and there’s a rumbling noise, like a growl, and the hand on Yuuji’s jaw shifts, the thumb drifting down to dig into his throat. The warning doesn’t stop Yuuji from trying to bury himself back in that body, but it doesn’t let him, arching out of reach when he fucks up and then lowering itself to tease his cock. It drips on it too, thin little lines that eat a burning path down Yuuji’s cock—

That’s…weird. Isn’t it?

Sukuna’s a guy. Yuuji saw his parts too. He shouldn’t be dripping wet. He shouldn’t have anything to drip wet. Yuuji definitely would’ve noticed it if he had a pussy stashed under his cock.

And butts don’t work like that. Yuuji’s got one. The only times it spews out anything this wet and hot is when he’s having diarrhea, and he really doesn’t want to think about that right now, but he does, and this time, the shudder that goes through him has nothing to do with pleasure.

But that doesn’t fit either. Yuuji can feel it all over him, and it’s not—

Sukuna takes him back into his body, and Yuuji stops thinking about why and how, stops thinking at all, all of him reduced to feeling—savage heat, slick flesh, shuddering constriction.

Sukuna bottoms out with a wet noise, grinding his ass into Yuuji’s groin. The plain warmth of his skin is swallowed by the vicious clench of his body around Yuuji’s cock, muscles digging into every inch of it like it’s massaging it, and there’s a hint of the same confusion as earlier, but Sukuna moves again before Yuuji can really think, dragging his body up his cock and dropping back down in a violent rush, only to do it again and again and again, faster and more furious every time, and it’s not just that he’s riding Yuuji, he’s also rippling around his cock, his insides moving with their own twisted rhythm.

It lashes at Yuuji’s cock, but he chases it anyway, bucking his hips with muffled whines every time Sukuna pulls off, and he’s slammed back against the floor every time for his trouble, but it’s that tight hole that does it, sheathing Yuuji in heat and squeezing all around him, and the pain is worth the pleasure that melts his bones, liquid fire pouring down his cock to spread through him like a fever.

His knuckles scrape the gouged marble. Pieces of the floor turn into dust in his fists.

Sukuna grinds him down into the floor, his hole convulsing around Yuuji’s cock.

Something claws its way up his gut, splattering against the palm plastered to his mouth. The flesh around him tightens in a rippling wave, from base to tip, and the heat there surges like it’s following a call, tearing through Yuuji to make him spill hot and howling into the man on top of him.

He shudders on the floor, still pinned in place. Everywhere Sukuna’s touching throbs like a fresh bruise, but the rest of him burns hotter, a few endless seconds of violent bliss.

There’s a wet touch on his cock, right over the slit—then another, then another.

And Yuuji’s only felt this once, but he’ll never forget what it’s like to have a tongue lap at his cock, and it’s insane, it’s impossible, but it’s there anyway—tongues on his cock, laving over the head and down the sides.

Licking up his come.

The realization tears out a weak noise and a weaker twitch of his cock, and then it’s slipping out, wet only with whatever is inside Sukuna, and Yuuji feels cold and hot and everything in between.

It’s surreal.

There’s a low grunt, distinctly displeased.

Yuuji blinks, and it’s not all dark anymore, but only because there are little white fish swimming in his vision. He can’t get enough air. His lips are smeared shut by the palm over them, and the air he sucks in through his nose isn’t enough to soothe his burning lungs. He heaves desperately, his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

Sukuna makes another unhappy noise.

“Still so pathetic,” he says, his voice rough and raspy—still recognizable, but with an edge to it that cuts into Yuuji despite all his focus being on just breathing. “You’re here to please, brat, and you can’t even do that.”

Yuuji spares enough air to make an incredulous noise against Sukuna’s own damn palm.

There’s a huff. “Fine then. The lesson may yet stick.”

Yuuji doesn’t understand and then he does, and all he can do is groan like a gutted thing as the hand on his stomach shifts to his spent cock, pulling it taut to guide it into a body that’s wet and warm and vicious, somehow tightening around Yuuji’s limp flesh till it feels like he can’t breathe with the fury of it, and then it ripples, the same wave of shifting pressure that tore his pleasure out of him earlier, but this time, it just hurts, every flex of muscle sinking into his cock like fish hooks.

The white spots in his vision grow big and splotchy. His breaths feel like ice.

Sukuna rolls his hips, rubbing his ass on Yuuji without letting go of his cock. It pulses weakly, too sensitive.

It’d have been okay in a bit. Yuuji knows his body. It’s too trigger-happy.

Sukuna doesn’t give him a minute.

Yuuji claws at crushed marble and whines into that unyielding palm as he’s fucked back to hardness, every clench and ripple of Sukuna’s body pulling blood back into Yuuji’s cock in a way that hollows out his bones, like it’s filling his cock with something vital, now lost, and he never gets enough air, but his breaths grow thicker and hotter, filling his throat and his lungs with a strange heat that clings to places he shouldn’t feel but can, and there’s the wild thought that he’s breathing in the darkness, soaking himself in its filth, but it feels right, the logic slotting neatly into the space between the throat that’s sore from a cock that dug into its lining and the cock that’s throbbing like a fresh wound inside a shuddering sheath.  

By the time Sukuna starts to move in earnest, all of Yuuji is red-hot hurt.

But there’s pleasure too, snaking down his cock to pool in his gut and seep into his muscles. It’s all Yuuji can do to lie there and breathe and not pass out, but he flinches every time Sukuna’s insides constrict around the tip, the heat there biting into his oversensitive cockhead, and it’s not much kinder down the rest of it, and a part of him is remembering the tongues, his gut clenching painfully every time. It’s only filthy wet flesh there now, but it devours him anyway.

Coming hurts too, his muscles sore with climbing tension and his cock scorched clean through by the spill, and a part of Yuuji’s expecting the first wet touch, but it still makes him jolt violently, a desperate noise lashing in his throat and cutting through the air, and Sukuna digs his nails into his face like he’s punishing Yuuji for being loud, but the real punishment is the slick strokes down his cock, lapping all over its pulsing length and licking up the come.

Yuuji can’t make sense of it, the distinct muscle digging into his slit nothing that fits anything he knows about bodies, but he’s feeling it, over and over and over, and it’s even nice for a little while, stoking his pleasure into something that makes his cock throb and spurt sweeter, hotter, but then he’s done and spent, except the tongues aren’t, still lapping and curling around his cock where it’s buried to the hilt inside Sukuna.

He’s not allowed to slip out. He’s not even allowed to soften.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 2: #78866B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[I sacrificed Damian's POV for more time of Jazz, and everything jumps around a little, but I refuse to feel regret. Notes on the timeline are at the bottom.]

-

Two hours went by way faster than Jazz thought. Between gathering the emergency bags, counting cash, and raiding the lab, she barely managed to herd her parents out the front door on time. Luckily, the two doctors didn't put up a fight, so she still had ten minutes to lock up. Like she said, Jazz hadn't touched the portal besides locking it down. The portal's power supply had been re-routed to an emergency shield, blocking anything from getting in or out. As long as it was still on, that shield would hold.

Jazz blew a strand of hair out of her face as she sat on the front porch for a moment. The door was locked, she had everything, and her parents were waiting like scared kids for her a few feet away. All she had to do was arm the security system using the bug Tucker had sent her. It was relatively easy; she had to take off the casing to the alarm next to their doorbell and use a connector to plug her phone in. It took her a moment, admittedly. It wasn't easy to mash tiny buttons when her hands shook with adrenaline.

While she waited for the virus to load, Jazz glanced at her parents, watching them. They looked lost. A little guilty, perhaps? They both looked gaunt and had unshed tears in their eyes, looking positively miserable for all the world to see. They hadn't said a peep after she had stormed off. Not even when she came back to clamp 'Shade Shackles' onto their wrists, hissing something to them about behaving. The shackles were heavy and bulky, restricting them from their wrists to their elbows and locking their arms together.

The shackles wouldn't hold Jack for long, she knew. Not if he was actually trying to escape. But honestly, the man was probably worse off than his wife. He just kept staring into space, dissociating.

Jazz thought they deserved it. After a few more seconds of fiddling, her phone finally beeped, indicating the upload was complete. She unplugged her phone, packed the cord into one of her bags, and stood again to close the alarm casing. Shutters slammed shut over every entrance into Fentonworks. Maddie flinched at the loud noise.

"And now," Jazz muttered, picking up her bat. "We can't go back." The redhead swung like a professional, slamming her weapon into the alarm, setting it off like a loud pig. She took her anger out on the plastic, smashing the buttons and hardware to bits, sending wires flying. Even the brick beneath the alarm was chipped in many places. Well, if there was one thing her parents did right, it was make a decent bat. The creep stick didn't have a scratch when she finally stepped back.

Wiping sweat from her brow, Jazz took in her handiwork. Getting some extra aggression out of her system slightly cleared her head, and she smiled at the ruined building. The alarm was going off at max volume, and some of the floodlights her parents had installed a few years ago lit up the whole neighborhood with flashing red. If the Fentons hadn't had people’s attention before, they sure as hell did now.

"What'd you do that for?" Maddie said, horrified. Guess she was breaking her silence.

Jazz scoffed, turning to pick her bags up and sling them over one shoulder. "Because while I'd love to burn this place to the fucking ground-"

"You can't!"

"Shut up. It's not up to you, Maddie." Jazz spat. "And it's not up to me. Danny gets to decide what happens to Fentonworks. Whether you like it or not, this is his final resting place. I'm not going to rob him of closure."

Maddie snapped her mouth shut.

"Final resting place?" Jack finally returned to himself as he cried at his daughter's words. Thick tears dripped down his face. Jazz had never seen her father so distraught, not even when Vlad moved away to Europe last year. He looked heartbroken.

Jazz sneered, poking her father in the chest with her bat. "You heard me. That fucking portal, your goddamn pride and joy, is what got Danny killed in the first place. That lab is where he died in front of his friends because you two are idiots who refuse to follow any sort of rule."

"No, that's not-"

"Not what?" Jazz rounded on her mother, who shrunk back in the face of her fury. "Not right? That's not what happened? Is that what you were going to say?"

They were attracting a crowd. People were being drawn out of their houses by the alarms and shouting, staring at the two Fenton parents with mild distaste. Everyone knew their children put up with a lot, even if the doctors were well-meaning. Did they finally cross the line?

"It was hard for us too!" Maddie insisted. "All those late nights, his avoidance of us, how he looked at us! It was horrible."

"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM!" Jazz roared. She was as red as her hair now, and the little ectoplasm that ran in her veins made the edges of her form blurry. As if she was a heat mirage. "YOU KILLED HIM, AND NOW YOU'RE KILLING HIM AGAIN BY HANDING HIM TO THE GHOST INVESTIGATION WARD!"

"Th-they just wanted to study him," Jack sobbed. "T-to avoid and prevent any ghost disease breakouts."

"BULLSHIT!" Her voice echoed down the street. It boomed unnaturally, drowning out the sound of sirens that were a few blocks away. A few neighbors were going pale as they realized the severity of the situation. "You two are doctors! You know how science works! You two built and sold weapons to them! Don't pretend to be ignorant and blame it on the fucking ghost flu."

"You disgust me," Jazz continued. She descended the steps and shoved past her parents. Maddie landed on the ground with an oof! "I hope I never have to see you two ever again." She adjusted her bags and started marching toward Nasty Burger, cutting through the crowd like she was fucking Moses. The police were a block away now. She didn't want to be there when they got to the house.

"Where are you going?" Her mother called. Pleaded, really. "We can talk this out!"

Jazz ignored her calls and walked on. When they spotted the murderous look in her eyes, everyone on the sidewalks quickly got out of her way. She had two minutes now, but the others probably wouldn't mind her tardiness. Her phone buzzed, and she snapped it open.

From: TheFuck

4:12pm yo ms evie just blasted ur rant 2 myspace and yt

4:13pm for an old lady she sure has quick fingers

4:13pm dani just showed up at nb we just waitin on u

Rather than replying, Jazz pushed the door to Nasty Burger open and beelined towards the trio's usual table. Tucker was glued to his phone while Sam and Dani mumbled, pouring over several sheets of paper. She tapped Tucker on the head, making him jump.

"I'm already here."

Tucker spun around. "Nocturn's starry underwear, Jazz!" He whined. "You could have just texted me!"

"Didn't feel like it," she shrugged, suddenly feeling very tired. The restaurant was mostly empty, so she threw her stuff into the booth beside them and slid in next to Tucker. The Fenton creep-stick was rested against the edge of the table, acting as a warning. The others had already set aside their bags and weapons in the other booth. Not a single Nasty Burger employee came over to tell them they couldn't have swords at the table, so Jazz didn't bother thinking about it.

Danielle, her free-spirited youngest sister, glanced up at her with a weary smile. She looked rough. The wind had tangled her shorter hair, and her clothes seemed horribly displaced and damp. (She'd passed through a tropical storm half an hour ago.) Dani was swaying where she sat, desperately trying to stay engaged with Sam even though exhaustion was no doubt clawing at her mind.

Jazz felt her mood soften. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that Dani was only a few years old by human and ghost standards. While Danny was also a baby ghost, he had a lot more stamina as a human to make up for it. Flying from New Zealand had taken its toll on the girl.

"Here, Danielle, switch me." Jazz stepped out of the booth, guiding her little sister to sit next to Tucker, who wouldn't mind if the girl fell asleep on his shoulder. Dani didn't protest and conked out almost immediately, soft snores being the only indication she was alive. Sam nodded her greeting and shuffled some papers Jazz's way.

"Here's everything so far," she stated. "We're doing this on paper until Tucker can set up a server."

Jazz flipped through the pages. Each one had a little tab in the corner sticking out so things wouldn't get mixed up. The pages were even color coordinated, just how she liked it. She scanned through sheets of numbers, reports on agent activity, stolen research, manufacturing contracts, and so on. Everything she saw was dated back at least a year, and Sam had taken the time to highlight the discrepancies between all the paperwork. It was the very definition of thorough.

Time for business, I guess, she thought. "To start with, how's the town?"

Tucker got right into it. He turned his PDA around to show her the screen. A tiny map of the town was displayed, with red dots pinned to random spots. "All the monoliths Danny set up are primed and ready. They'll tap into the ley lines in the area to power the ghost shield we set up. I'll set it off when we leave the city borders."

"I called Cujo and Wulf," Sam added. She had a paper version of the town map with more random spots marked in green. "They are rounding up the ghost animals, and I got Grandma Ida to scare a few more human ones into helping. Some of the A-listers are doing a sweep to drive out anyone who stays behind."

"What about the GIW equipment?"

"Dash is getting his football and baseball teams together. Wes is going to load them with a virus before they smash it all to bits."

"Teenage boys are always destructive no matter the species." Jazz remarked dryly. Sam gave her a Look, but she ignored it. Yeah, she was being hypocritical. Who cared? "How's the tracking going?"

Tucker patted the sleeping Danielle on her head. "Thanks to a little miss, I got a lock on his ecto-signature much faster this time. But his aura is big, and we'll still need to raid at least four locations before I can pinpoint him."

Jazz sighed in relief, tilting her head back. Everything was falling into place, and soon, Danny would be safe by her side.

-

Danny woke up with a knife in his chest.

He choked, breathing in the air for the first time in a while. He couldn't feel a heartbeat, but the knife was too close to his core. It was too close to his fractured core. The weapon twisted, digging itself deeper, and he screamed silently in fear. His limbs spasmed, knocking into whoever was standing over him and throwing them across the room with a thud.

Free of the pressing weight, Danny rolled to the side, dropping to the floor and scrabbling at the knife still in his chest. Fabric was tangled with his legs, making it difficult to stand. Had he been placed in a bed? He jerked the knife out, letting it clatter to the ground.

Danny keened as precious ectoplasm leaked from his chest. From his core. Flaps of skin that hadn't healed yet tore back open, ripping fresh scabs and making him lightheaded. Half-formed organs were trying to slip free of his body, and he could barely scoop them back in. His fingers felt thick, and the task seemed endless. What if his core slipped out? How would he know? Could he catch it?

Was this how Dani felt when she was melting? He briefly wondered. A sob tore its way out of his throat. God, everything hurt so much. He tried to inhale, to breathe through the panic attack, but his lungs were either shriveled from disuse or missing. He couldn't breathe. Oh god, he couldn't breathe. The fabric felt like shackles against his legs, stiffing and trapping him further as ice crept through the room. He couldn't feel his lungs, he couldn't feel his heart, he couldn't feel his core. His core was here; he knew it. Where was it? Where was his soul?

Danny curled in on himself, letting go of his skin in favor of shoving a hand into his chest, searching for his tiny core amongst all the ectoplasm and body parts. It was like trying to find a ping pong ball in a pool of Oobleck. The base of his head felt heavy, and he just wanted to cry even more than he already was.

where is it where is it where is it

His body shuddered as Danny started folding in on himself. The heavy feeling got worse. Bones slipped from his joints and pressed oddly against his skin, making it poke out in strange positions. He screwed his eyes further shut as he kept reaching past his ribs. His fingers were ice cold and sent shocks up his spine, making him spasm again. Flimsy organs were slipping past his arm; he tried not to pierce them as they landed back onto the floor with an ugly splat.

Danny kept crying, even as he felt the tips of his fingers finally brush his core. It was ice cold, colder than his skin. He could feel a deep crack in the surface, and he mourned for himself as he pulled his arm back out of his body. He wanted to scream so bad. To yell. To wail. To call for his family and friends and heal in his haunt surrounded by love.

But he didn't have any of that right now. His parents had given him away to the GIW, saying he just needed help, that he just needed to be fixed. That he needed healing. His haunt wasn't safe anymore, and Sam and Tucker had to stay behind to protect the other ghosts. Jazz wasn't even home the last time he checked. And now he was somewhere new, having a meltdown as he lost more blood than he cared to think about. He felt so goopy.

Danny's ears twitched as footsteps rushed towards his room. Was he underground? Everything was echoing. The person he'd tossed sat patiently against the far wall, probably staring at the mess he'd made. He was still whining in a high-pitched kind of way, which was his version of a ghost sob. The door burst open, making him flinch, but he was too weak to defend himself with ice. Danny could only lay there and try to pull himself back together.

-

"The boy is awake."

One of Ra's messengers bowed deeply to him, eyes cast to the floor. The papers he'd been going over were forgotten as he shoved them aside and focused on the messenger.

"I heard he was not due to wake until his organs regrew." Ra's commented lightly.

The messenger's frame tightened up a fraction. "The Demon's Thumb has returned," they intoned. "And has decided to greet the new Demon's Heir."

Ra's hummed, standing up. "I suppose I should have expected this. News does travel quite fast these days." He gestured for the messenger to lead the way, and they stood to do so. The walk from his main office to the medical wing was short as more of his retainers gathered around him. Dr. Vanessa, a thin woman with a vicious fire in her eyes, rushed to join his little circle as they passed the research hall.

"I apologize, sir." She seemed harried, if not a little ticked off. "My calculations must have been off. I-"

"It was not your fault, doctor." Ra's cut her off. "My granddaughter seems to have stopped by for a visit and wanted to pay her respects to the new heir, it seems."

"Ah." Dr. Vanessa's anger at herself vanished, and her face was carefully blank. "In that case, I shall adjust the boy's treatment plan accordingly."

They said nothing else as they approached the boy's room, admittedly at a quick pace. The bind around Ra's heart was urging him forward, to be faster and be by the boy's side when he awoke. The mere knowledge that the boy was in danger made his blood boil as his body revolted against this mind. By the heavens, he couldn't wait for this contract to be fulfilled. He hated magic so much.

Turning the final corner, a loud, keening cry assaulted everyone's ears. Dr. Vanessa flinched. A few guards pulled out their weapons, adopting a more defensive position. Ra's could barely stop himself from rushing through the group during the last few steps. He grits his teeth as another opens the door.

They were treated to the sight of a frost-covered room. The boy was on the floor, tangled in his blankets as he tried to shove unfinished organs, which was a gaping hole that led to nothing. Lazarus water was leaking from his body in copious amounts. His skin was practically translucent, and Ra's could spy his bones shifting unnaturally underneath it all, creating strange angles and planes that did not belong to a human. The boy's eyes were screwed shut, and he was crying even more Lazarus water, but Ra's would bet that his eyes were glowing that same bright green. The keening noise seemed to be coming from him, even though his mouth was shut tight.

Ra's glanced around again. A knife was on the floor next to the boy's head, covered in his blood. Mara al Ghul, his granddaughter and leader of the Demon's Fist, was sitting against the far wall with thick sheets of ice covering her from the neck down, trapping her in place. She was still wearing her mask, so Ra's couldn't see her face, but he knew she wasn't happy. Foolish girl.

Dr. Vanessa glanced at him. "May I approach the patient?" She asked. Ra's nodded his approval, and she cautiously stepped forward, trying to avoid the puddles of bodily fluids.

The doctor knelt, and she adopted a soft look to soothe the boy. "Hello, young man." Her voice dripped with honey. She reached out to tap the boy on his shoulder. "My name is Dr. Vanessa, and I'm-" She got cut off as soon as she made contact. A flash of light blinded everyone, and suddenly, Vanessa was encased with ice. She was essentially a statue now, still with a sweet look on her face.

Interesting. Ra's thought. One of his attendants moved the frozen doctor out of the way so he could walk forward, stopping right at the edge of the Lazarus water.

"Boy," he ordered. "Listen."

The boy's cry petered off at the sound of a human voice and he cracked his eyes open, staring straight at Ra's unblinkingly. He warbled something in a language that grated on everyone's minds. Ra's understood him, though, and switched tongues as easily as he would clothes.

"Boy," he repeated. His voice cracked, and Ra's could feel his granddaughter's burning questions engraved into his back. No one had heard him speak like this before. However, the boy finally opened both eyes wide, which he counted as a win. His interest was piqued. "Boy, listen to me."

The boy's mouth didn't move as he replied, "Hurts..."

"I know. But you are hurting others, and hurting yourself. Let us help."

The boy shivered. "Hurts. Can't. Pain."

"My people will not harm you," Ra's promised. The weight of the promise hung in the air like a bird, and the boy's eyes widened. Making promises in the tongue of the dead was a serious thing. "Calm yourself, and let us help you into bed. You are losing lifeblood. We cannot help if you freeze my people."

A humorless laugh was his reply. "Already dead." The boy informed him. "Almost dead again. It hurts. Please?"

Ra's motioned for the assassins to pick the boy up. He squeezed his eyes shut as hands touched his body but relaxed as one of them handed him his liver like it was a stuffed toy. The ice in the room started melting, releasing the two ladies from their bonds. The attending nurse quickly got to work collecting all the extra things that had fallen out of his body and placing them gently back inside the boy's gaping chest like he was playing Operation.

Once he was situated with all his goopy organs back in his body, the boy tried apologizing to Mara and Vanessa. "Sorry for the cold." He rasped.

Mara glanced at her grandfather, who didn't bother to translate. "I will be informing Mother Soul of this development," she said stiffly before turning and marching out of the room, two assassins at her heel. Dr. Vanessa was likewise escorted out to be taken care of.

Ra's stepped closer to the boy's bed. He didn't pay any mind to the blood, Lazarus goop, and now melting ice that stained his robes; they could be replaced. But he needed answers. He needed to figure out how to get out of this deal with the Gardener. And he needed to know how much power one child could offer him.

"Child." The boy looked lazily up at him. The effort of being awake was taking its toll. "I am Ra's al Ghul, the leader here. May I have your name?"

"Mmm." Some of the boy's bones shifted as he wiggled around, trying to relieve the weird pressure pressing against his skin. Ra's reckoned his whole skeleton might be out of place. "Call me Phantom," he eventually hummed.

Ra's knew that wasn't the boy's true name, but he'd work with it for now. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgment, watching as Phantom started nodding back off to sleep. Oh dear. He couldn't let him rest yet; Ra's needed answers.

"Do you know why you are here, Phantom?"

The boy licked his cracked lips, but still couldn't use his voice. His words were just echoing into the air like he was projecting his thoughts for everyone to hear. "No..."

"You were given to me. By a being who called themselves the Gardener. I am to take care of you."

"In exchange for what?" Phantom was struggling to stay awake. But he instantly caught onto the double meaning, which proved he had a brain somewhere.

Ra's considered his words. "Power," he said simply. "I care for you as if you were my own, and in exchange, you would be the key to granting unimaginable power and knowledge."

Phantom wrinkled his nose but seemed to accept that answer. "Undergrowth is so shady sometimes. But I'll acknowledge the deal between you two. Let me take a quick nap, and then you can let me know what you need..." He trailed off as sleep finally claimed him.

The Demon's Head wasn't pleased that the conversation was cut short, but the bind around his heart had loosened its noose, and he felt it was unavoidable. Now that his foolish granddaughter was out of the way, he would leave and return later. Phantom, while boyish in nature, seemed quite mature once he was lucid enough to talk. Perhaps Ra's wouldn't regret making him the Heir.

-

Jazz was getting antsy. It had been weeks, and they still hadn't found Danny. Raiding GIW bases with just the four of them took a toll on the group, especially since they kept losing supplies (like her beloved creep-stick, RIP). A few times, Danielle had to fly off and keep the peace in other cities, as the ghosts were finding different ways into the mortal realm now that Amity was shut off from the world. She'd taken up Danny's name as Phantom and was exhausted from flying across the country constantly. So, really, it was mostly the three of them.

Luckily, Kitty and Johnny showed up recently, and Dani got them to spread the word about Danny's disappearance and the group's country-wide manhunt. No ghosts had shown up since then.

"We're here," Tucker snapped her out of her thoughts, pulling her to an instant stop. This was one of the four bases Tucker had narrowed their search to. They'd destroyed the other three, gathering evidence and doing what was necessary to defeat the agents inside. And now they were standing in front of the final one, deep inside Yellowstone National Park. It looked like a rest stop with a bathroom, but Jazz knew that the compound was actually underground and most likely ten times the size of the shack.

Sam wrinkled her nose. "This place looks abandoned," She noticed. "At least the others had a front going on. I don't want to ride in a dirty bathroom that's really an elevator. I'd rather go back and fight those creepy clown performers from the pizza place."

"I can just phase us down." Danielle offered.

Jazz shook her head. "Nah, you need to save your energy, kiddo. Who knows how deep this one is."

Tucker crouched, fiddling with his PDA. "This spot does have a front," he told Sam. "It's a rare geocache spot. The only hint for it online that I can find is a shitty riddle that was posted, like, last week."

"Oh, what is it?"

"Uh, here. It says:

Below the keep, just six feet deep, lays a weathered path, born from wrath. A white beast rests, who troubles his guests, so find the key, and beware the banshee."

Danielle snorted. "You're right. That riddle sucks. Who wrote that? Skulker?"

Jazz smiled but considered the words seriously. "I mean, it seems pretty literal if you know the context behind it. Why not search for the cache and see if it has a key?"

"Good idea."

With that plan in mind, the four split up to scan the terrain. None of them had ever been geocaching before, but it was a popular tourist activity around Amity. It shouldn't be that hard, could it?

The answer was yes, it was. The group searched for an hour before Tucker finally gave in and sat on a log to take a break. The log promptly crumbled in half, and Tucker shouted in surprise as he landed ass-first on a hard tackle box.

"Oh, come on!" He groaned. "This log isn't even made of plastic! It's cardboard! Who makes a geocache out of cardboard?? It literally rained last night, my ass is wet now!"

Danielle giggled for the first time in weeks. Jazz ruffled her hair, earning a swat of protest, and then walked over to help Tucker to his feet. Sam swooped in to claim the first dibs on the box as soon as he was clear.

The lock was no issue for her as she simply bashed it open with a sharp rock. Sam seemed eager to find more clues and crowed triumphantly when she dug out a key card still attached to a GIW lanyard. "Fucking finally!"

"Good job, Sam." The four gathered around the tackle box. The card seemed legit, right down to the near-invisible security numbers engraved on the back. Their enhanced eyesight allowed them to spot that detail, which was a blessing when sniffing out fake leads.

Dani shot up excitedly. The fact that they were so close to finding Danny renewed the spark in her eyes. "I'll go look for the entrance!" She sped off, turning invisible to avoid any inside cameras. She found it within minutes, and returned to share the good news.

It was, indeed, in the tiny bathroom.

Sam groaned. "I need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

"I'm fine with that, honestly. You loud-mouthed mother-OW!" Tucker stumbled through the doorway to the bathroom, too slow to avoid the whack Sam had given him.

"That's 'loud-mouthed BITCH' to you," she scolded playfully.

The eldest shook her head and ignored them. The bathroom truly was tiny, and hadn't seen the loving touch of a mop in years. Spiders were making webs in the corners and Jazz was pretty sure something had been using the toilet as a litter box. It looked awful and smelled even worse. A smug look from Danielle told her that the girl had simply stopped breathing, and therefore didn't have to deal with the scent of actual bear shit.

She ignored Danielle, too. Jazz could feel her little sister's smugness radiating as they searched everywhere for the secret card scanner. Jazz couldn't stop her organs at will yet, and the twins always took full advantage of that to mess with her. They eventually figured out that the empty soap dispenser was what they were looking for, and the scanner beeped when they swiped the card. The whole room started to shake as they moved down.

Sam and Tucker stopped their petty back-and-forth as they heard the grinding of the elevator cable. "When was the last time this was used?" Tucker sounded alarmed.

"Probably when they built it." Sam grimaced at the sight of the dirty toilet water moving and pointedly moved to stare at the wall. "I want to set myself on fire right now. This is so gross."

"I'll hand you the match."

"I will douse you in gasoline, Tucker."

"Not the time, guys!" Jazz glanced at the ceiling, where she imagined the cable would connect. It squealed and screeched, but eventually, the world's worst elevator trip came to an end, and the one wall with nothing attached to it split open to reveal the pristine tunnel of a GIW facility. All four of them bolted for the hallway, and not just because they were eager to start trashing the place.

"Danny better fucking be here because I do not want to ride that thing ever again." Gasping, Sam rested her arms on her legs, breathing in stale, underground air. At least it didn't stink.

Danielle giggled again (that was twice now!!) and changed forms. "I'll go scout ahead," she informed them. Jazz bid her good luck before she faded from visibility. She wasn't too worried about the girl. Dani had her radio and knew to avoid GIW sensors as a ghost.

Tucker lay on the ground, staring into nothing while they waited. "My ass is still wet," he commented after a few moments of silence.

"No one needs to know that, Tucker."

"Too bad. I might get a rash from this. Did you know I ran out of underwear last week? I'm on my last pair, and now I'm gonna get a fucking diaper rash from them."

Sam gagged. "That's disgusting. Don't tell me this shit. I'm cursing your bloodline just for that."

"You gotta tell me these things," Jazz chided. "I would have gotten you a new set."

Tucker waved his arm in a 'whatever' motion. "Eh, honestly, it isn't that bad right now. I've done worse. Danny and I once tried to see how long we could go without showering or changing in middle school. I went two weeks before my parents hog-tied me and hosed me down in the front yard. Danny managed to go a full month before you did the same."

Realization struck Jazz and her eyes widened. "That's what that was about? Oh my god, he was yowling like a cat when I caught him, and it took three rounds of shampoo just to wash his hair! He's never forgiven me for it!"

"Sounds about right." Tucker shrugged. "I promised him a ticket to the observatory if he won, but you caught him the day of the showing, and he missed it."

"Why don't I remember this?" Sam demanded.

"It was right before y'all moved to town. It's the incident that caused the 'Fenturd' nickname."

Jazz put her head in her hands and groaned. Sometimes, she really wanted to smack her brother.

Danielle popped back into existence, making all three of them jump. Her mood had drastically changed, and she seemed really uncomfortable. "As interesting as that story is, and I definitely want to hear about it later," she said nervously. "This whole place has already been raided. There's no one here except a couple of soulless bodies. And an open portal. Someone was here before us."

All three shot up. "Lead the way," Jazz demanded. Everyone ran down the still-pristine hallway. Barely any dust had settled, and none of them smelled blood. Who had gotten here first?

They slid to a stop before a big metal door. Dani ducked through it to open it from the other side, and everyone was assaulted with the smell of rotting bodies and days-old blood as soon as it started moving. The door was literally so thick it had trapped everything inside. Including some agents, it seemed. A few bodies were pressed against the door and fell toward them when it opened. Tucker screeched and jumped back.

Sam, a true crime girlie at heart, crouched to examine the closest one. "Their fingers are worn through, almost to the bone," she noticed. "I bet if we closed the door again, we'd find scratch marks."

Dani floated above the corpses. "Yeah, it looks like something cut off all the exits and hunted them one by one."

"But what killed them?"

Sam toed a body until it flipped over. The eyes of the agent had been ripped from their skull, and frostbite warped their skin so bad she couldn't tell what their original features were. Danielle floated closer to Jazz, looking highly uncomfortable. "Danny's ecto is all over the place," she whispered. "He was definitely here."

"Right." Jazz hardened her heart. She was here to find her brother, not feel sorry for brutally mutilated government agents. "Let's get going. Stick to the battle buddy system, and keep your comms on."

They proceeded cautiously, only touching a body if it blocked their path or to find a key card. Tucker remarked that if this was a horror game, he probably would have played it, but living it was so much worse. Every single corpse had its eyes removed, and it was starting to wear on Jazz's mind. Dani mentioned their souls were gone, too.

Eventually, after some detours and backtracking, they reached the labs where Danny would have been held. Rage filled Jazz's chest as she saw ectoplasm mixed in with the bloodstains. A table had been set up to restrain a ghost with specialized handcuffs that had FENTONWORKS printed across them in bright green letters. Shattered glass was scattered across the floor and a few organs were decaying quite rapidly. A scientist was slumped across the table, a small knife still in hand. Jazz kicked the corpse.

Without Danielle telling her, she could feel it. This is where Danny had been tortured. Probably vivisected, too. Those were his organs that were rotting on the floor. His blood stains the ceiling. She was seeing red. She wanted to scream. Her baby brother had been tortured by these horrible people, and she didn't even get to kill them??

Danielle tugged on her arm, quietly bringing her back to herself. "The portal," she reminded Jazz. "It's in the next room."

"Sam, Tucker, see what you can recover from in here." Jazz gritted her teeth and let Dani guide her away from that room. "Dani's gonna show me the portal. Scream if you need us."

"Be careful!" Sam called back.

They left the room, going two doors down to what looked like a near-perfect copy of the Fenton's lab. She stiffened as she spied the portal. It wasn't set into the wall like the original but rather floated a few feet in the air in front of it. It looked like a tear in reality, similar to something Wulf could make, but on a much larger scale. She felt dwarfed by it, and dreaded to think about what could come through a portal this size.

Dani pointed out some blinking computers, the only ones still with power inside the entire compound. "They were working on a new portal," she said. "The Fentons sold their research. I'm not sure how we missed it, but they were really close to getting it figured out."

"This isn't from the GIW?" Jazz asked, gesturing to the behemoth of a disaster still swirling next to them.

"No, I don't think so," Danielle zoned out. Her eyes glowed, and she looked at things Jazz couldn't see. "This was opened from the other side. I think someone broke in, took Danny, and left after killing everyone."

"Someone from the Ghost Zone?" Jazz frowned. She bent over the computer, trying to click around for security footage. "But who do we know that is strong enough to kill everyone so physically? Vlad swore to never interact with us again, even if it was life or death. Undergrowth would have left plants behind, Nocturn doesn't like killing in the mortal realm, and Vortex can't sustain himself underground. None of the normal rogues are strong enough, either. Unless they got Desiree to help?"

"Nah, she may be a bitch, but she refuses to participate in murder of any kind. Plus, she's a neat freak. This isn't her work. It isn't Ghost Writer either; he doesn't like writing horror stories."

"What about Frostbite or Pandora?"

Dani wrinkled her nose. "Maybe? Frostbite is a pacifist who is more likely to rescue Danny without killing anyone. And the portal is too small to let Pandora through. She could've sent her warriors, though."

"It was Danny."

Jazz glanced up from the computer. Sam and Tucker were standing in the door, looking pale.

"We pulled recordings from the labs dating back two months. Danny was the one who killed everyone."

"...Pardon? It's only been a few weeks since he disappeared."

"I don't know." Tucker frantically typed away at his PDA, pulling up the downloaded footage and shoving it in Jazz's face. "But it's definitely him. I pulled their files, too. They were looking into time travel, Jazz. The day Danny showed up in their records, Operative K and Operative O were also logged in, even though they were 100% still in Amity during that time. They suddenly added on the time travel stuff a day later."

Jazz zoned out, numb to Tucker's near-hysterical rant. She just watched the tiny screen blankly as Danny was tortured over and over again but refused to give up the secrets the agents were asking for. Every time he refused, he was punished by having his organs taken away and put into jars for study. Then he'd be pumped full of pure ectoplasm, and just like Prometheus, he was back the next day with fresh organs for harvest. The dates in the recording went back weeks. Way before Danny disappeared.

Dani sobbed and looked away from the screen. Jazz couldn't even blink. The turning point in the experiments was when they brought in a little girl, a human girl, in front of Danny. The girl was about five, probably homeless or kidnapped, with pretty blonde hair done up in pigtails. Jazz noted she had been crying and had the number '27' pinned to her shirt. Danny was wary, sure it was a trick until he spotted something off-screen that they couldn't see. He jerked forward, straining to reach the girl, panic in his eyes.

But he couldn't reach her. Two scientists simply wrote down some observations before nodding in the same direction Danny was looking. Without asking a single question, the agents killed the little girl in front of Danny.

Jazz's hands shook as tears filled her eyes. Danny, her sweet baby brother, looked on in horrified shock as the cameras switched. Agents dumped the girl's body in a barrel of ectoplasm and waited patiently until a blue wisp rose from it. Then, using a Fenton peeler, they zapped the child's soul without mercy. Normally, the peeler stripped the disguise off a ghost to reveal their real form. But to a fresh soul as weak as that?

Her soul was burned into nothing.

Danny started screaming and imploded in on himself like a star.

The camera blacked out for a few moments, flickering between glimpses of her brother and blackness. She barely recognized him. His form had warped into something unrealistic. Something straight out of a movie. He was impossibly large now, barely able to walk on two legs when he stood amongst his broken restraints. His chest was a gaping cavern, and when he turned towards the camera, she could spy his tiny core exposed to the world. It was acting like a black hole, pulling at Danny's own skin and flesh like it was trying to suck him in. It was beautiful and strange in a horrible way.

He was too fast for the camera to really keep up with, but Tucker had doctored it to slow down each frame. Danny's face was splitting in two from a silent scream. His hair was flowing wildly, falling over his body, so it looked like he had a white, shaggy cloak.

His hunt never stopped. He didn't slow or hesitate to pounce on everyone he saw. His body was stained red from the gouging of people's eyes, which was the fastest way to reach a human soul. The group watched in horror as Danny leaned over his victims, opening his splitting maw even wider and devouring every soul he could, ensuring that they wouldn't even get peace in death. The churning of his core was getting worse, and at some point, he was spreading ice with every step he took. It looked like he was really struggling to stay standing by the time a few scientists were the only ones left in the compound. Jazz was afraid of what would happen if he collapsed completely. Would his core devour him?

At some point, the cameras really did die, and the screen went dark. Jazz realized she was crying, and moved to give the PDA back to Tucker.

"There's more," he shook his head. "But we didn't watch that far ahead because an outside force added it when I downloaded everything."

Like he said, the screen crackled back to life after a moment. The group realized it was from Danny's point of view. All the agents were dead, and he was stumbling through the halls in a daze, unable to keep his bigger form. He finally made it to the room they were in now, probably drawn to the familiarity of the lab layout. Before he could reach the unfinished portal, however, the freestanding one opened and out stepped a very familiar figure.

"Clockwork?" Jazz muttered, surprised.

As if hearing his name, Clockwork looked directly through Danny, straight at her. "The flow of time has been disrupted." He said softly. "I'll take our young Guardian here to a safe place. We have much to talk about, Miss Jasmine. You, too, Samantha, Tucker, and Danielle. I'll see you soon."

Then, the older ghost's focus switched back to Danny, and it was like he'd never spoken to them at all.

"Daniel," he coaxed. "It's time to go."

Danny groaned but stumbled forward and passed out in Clockwork's arms, promptly ending the video.

Silence descended over the room. Jazz could hear blood rushing through her body, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She thought over what they'd found in the facility, about the state of Amity Park, her parents, and most importantly, her brother. About how he was tortured to the brink of insanity and how he still found it in his heart to love others. To protect them. To care and grieve for someone he'd never met. He must be feeling so much hurt.

Deciding on the next step was easy.

"We need to find Clockwork."

-

[I realized the timeline is kinda confusing, and I promise it'll all match up in the next chapter, but here's a chart on what it looks like right now so it's easier to understand.]

[The top one is the timeline Ra's and the rest of the DC characters are on. The middle is Jazz and the others. Danny is separate from both timelines right now because of the Time Medallion that Dan forced into his core. Right before the start of the story, which is marked in bright colors, Danny and the agents he's traveling with get involved in a time anomaly and are transported two months into the past. The agents still take him to the Yellowstone compound, but the incident makes the GIW speed-run their research on the Ghost Zone and, now, time travel. The timelines sync up again when Tucker finds the video from Clockwork. The total amount of time that has passed since the start of the story to the sync-up is about three weeks.]

[melodygatesauthor]

The Best Kept Secrets - Steven's Story

dbf!Steven Grant X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - AO3 Link

Suggested reading order - Marc -> Steven -> Jake -

Marc's Story - Jake's Story

Summary:

You've just graduated college and you find yourself developing feelings for your dad's best friend after your graduation party. Three different versions of the same story all with different boys.

Tags/Warnings (for all three fics):

NSFW, age gap (reader is about 22 - boys are 40), reader is not race-coded, reader graduated college in America but isn't necessarily American, p in v creampie, unprotected sex, dbf trope, oral sex, coercion (sort of on both sides), Jake being Jake, Marc being Marc, Steven being Steven, forbidden relationship, forbidden sex, blowjob, mild bondage, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, car sex, bad puns

Word Count: 8.6k

You got out of the Uber when it stopped in front of your childhood home. Your dad was already waiting for you by the front door, smiling wide. He came over with his arms out, pulling you into a big hug. You grunted from the tight squeeze.

“Hi dad.” You choked out.

“I sweetie.” He let go of you and looked you over. “How was the ride from the airport?” He started taking two of your bags out of the trunk and walking back toward the house with you in tow.

“Long,” you said with a tired laugh.

“Well, hope you’re not too tired cause there’s a few people here to see you.”

He opened the front door and you were greeted by several relatives and family friends in the kitchen. They all shouted, congratulations! at once, holding up an assortment of beer bottles and glasses of wine. Knowing your dad, the drinking had been going on for a couple of hours before you arrived.

“Thanks everyone,” you said with a big smile, feeling a little shy having all those eyes on you.

You noticed the black and gold, congrats graduate, banner adorning the wall above the table in the dining area. With the initial excitement over, the crowd dissipated and you watched everyone start mingling once again. Your cousins came up to you and started exchanging quick updates on their lives while everyone else chattered around you throughout the house.

“What do you think, huh?” Your dad asked, coming up behind you while you admired the cake in the center of the dining table. He handed you a mixed drink.

“Dad, this is really great. There’s so many people! I really wasn’t expecting this when you said we were having a graduation barbecue. Thought maybe only a couple people would show up.” You looked to see your aunt talking with one of your dad’s friends in the living room.

“You know me better than that. Not everyday your kid graduates college,” he patted your back proudly, “shit, gotta go check the grill. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, you watched your aunt and your dad’s friend finish their conversation. You’d known Steven since you were a kid, but it had been a long time since you’d seen each other. He came over to you and held up his drink as if to say cheers. He still looked nervous as you remembered, and you wondered if that would ever change. Looking at him now though, you found it a little endearing, the way he stood awkwardly next to you. He gestured to the cake.

“Looks like someone’s a genius,” he sniffed out a laugh, “you. Can’t believe you’ve graduated, seems like only yesterday you were leavin’ to go on your big college adventure.”

You pulled your lips into a tight smile, “yeah, I guess I’m a pretty big deal,” you giggled at your attempt to sound conceited, “heard the job market sucks though. Not looking forward to that.”

“Well, as long as you’ve got a good resume, shouldn’t be a problem for someone smart as you, right?” He gulped some of his wine down and then looked at you with those brown eyes that seemed to sparkle sometimes when the light hit them just right.

You felt your cheeks get flush over Steven endlessly complimenting your intelligence. This was the first time you’d really looked at Steven. He’d always just been your dad’s best friend. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he always had a disheveled appearance, oversized clothes, and a nervous demeanor that didn’t exactly scream ‘lady's man’. The way he looked at you now though had your stomach fluttering with excitement. You noticed the way his eyes went half lidded as he looked you over too, as though you were the thing making him buzzed instead of the wine.

You cleared your throat, breaking the awkwardly silent trance you were both under.

“I actually don’t have a resume,” you said softly, realizing that he was probably going to think you were an idiot for not having the most basic thing you needed for a job in the first place.

“Oh we can’t have that can we? Tell you what,” his eyes seemed to light up, “I’m going to be gone two weeks on holiday after tomorrow, but when I get back, why don’t we go over that resume together? I’ve had to make one or two in my career.” Steven gave you his usual dopey smile, but this time you felt your stomach flutter.

You nodded, sipping your drink, “that would actually be amazing.” Someone called your name from outside, interrupting the casual conversation. “I gotta go, see you around, Steven.”

“Yeah…you too, love.”

After several hours and a few drinks later, you were sitting around the firepit with only your dad, one of your cousins and Steven. Steven was always telling fascinating mythological tales around the fire that had apparently bored everyone else in the audience. Your father was struggling to keep his eyes open while Steven rambled on about Khonshu, the moon god. Truth be told, you found it all extremely fascinating. You leaned on your hand, watching him and listening intently. He looked over at you and smiled. Steven’s smile was so fucking beautiful. Why hadn’t you noticed before tonight how good looking he was? This feeling you had was so wrong…but you wanted him so badly all of a sudden. It had to be the alcohol talking, that was the only logical explanation.

A little while later, you were tipsy and felt your eyelids closing involuntarily, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

They closed again, and when you opened them this time, it was only you and Steven left around the fire.

Closed again.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sudden movement stirred you awake. You were being carried by a set of strong arms. Did your dad come back to get you? No. He would’ve woken you up so you could walk to bed. You wrapped your arms around the man’s shoulders and buried your face in his neck. Steven, you thought.

He smelled like fresh linen sheets that had been on a clothesline all day. Your lips brushed the soft skin there, and you felt a strong sense of comfort wash over you. Alcohol had a way of making you forget to filter your emotions, and right now you were hoping Steven would never let go. You didn’t know why you felt that way. None of it made sense. It’s not like he’d made any sort of pass at you during your growing up. He certainly had been respectful all night.

When you got to your room, you stirred and looked up at him. He put you down gently, one foot at a time, but never took his eyes off of you, nor did you take your eyes off of him. You grabbed either side of his baggy denim jacket. You weren’t sure if the attraction was one sided or not until Steven grabbed your hip in one hand, and cupped your cheek in the other.

You went for it, closing the gap between your lips, not wanting to give the nervous man a second to reconsider. He must’ve drank too much as well just based on the way his tongue tasted in your mouth. It was delicious, exciting, and forbidden. Steven pushed you back onto the bed, never letting his mouth disconnect from yours. He climbed over you, taking you completely by surprise. You thought for sure that the usual ‘by the book good boy’ Steven wouldn’t dream of doing something with his best friend’s daughter, but here he was on top of you with his tongue down your throat.

Steven kissed along your jaw and moved to your neck, peppering soft and wet kisses there. You grabbed his hand, guiding it to the waist of your jeans. You clasped your hand over your mouth when he dragged his thick finger over your folds, finding your clit with ease. He teethed your earlobe, inciting a high pitched and muffled squeak from you.

“This is so stupid of me, shit,” Steven said through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay, we can just…we’re drunk, it will be like nothing happened tomorrow okay?” You looked at him, desperate for him to stay.

He peered up at you with a hooded and drunken gaze. His lips were swollen and glossy. He went back in for more sloppy kisses, moaning deeply into you while his fingers kept working over your greedy clit. You brought your hands up and tangled them in his locks.

You felt him churning his hips against your knee. He was hard, and from what you could tell he wasn’t lacking in size either. He never stopped working on you with his incredibly dexterous fingers though, rolling his fingers over that little nub that made you do the most morally questionable acts. You bit Steven’s lip, letting it snap back on his bottom teeth. He whimpered and you felt him start thrusting his hips faster against you.

“Steven, you feel so good. Don’t stop touching me please. I’m so…ah–so–close–I’m–oh shit.”

You came, cunt contracting in waves as Steven stole every moan from your mouth into his. He was grinding faster and faster against your leg until finally he stopped. You felt a wet heat soak through your jeans and onto your thigh while Steven was open mouth panting on top of you. Neither of you moved for a while. You weren’t sure what had him frozen in place, but for you it was the fear of looking him in the eye and realizing what you both had just done.

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You were the first to move, pushing him off of you and rushing to the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you saw yourself in the mirror you felt immediate disgust and regret. You shouldn’t have done that. That was your dad’s best friend, and you’d just let him get you off while he came in his pants on top of you.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

----

The next morning at breakfast, you and Steven kept stealing awkward glances at each other. He managed to make small talk with your father, not sounding much different than usual, but you and him both remembered what had happened the night before. You were struggling to figure out how things were going to go back to normal after that. How was he supposed to just keep coming over for get togethers and barbecues all summer now that you two had this weird thing between you?

“C-can you pass the orange juice?” You asked Steven, holding out your hand.

“You cold honey?” Your dad asked.

“Um, yeah a little, I’ll just put on a sweater when I go upstairs,” you damned your nervous stammering.

The moment your father went up to use the bathroom, you took the opportunity to talk to Steven who, at that moment, was clearly pretending to look at his phone. You were surprised to see someone like Steven using a smartphone. He always seemed like he was a little behind the times. You took a bite of your pancake and pointed at his phone with your fork.

“Whatchya lookin’ at?” You asked.

It seemed that actually talking to one another and pretending like nothing happened worked. Steven loosened up and showed you some pictures of the place he was going on his vacation. He was going to visit London, and talked excitedly about the museum they had there. He even joked that he’d like to bring you there some time. Except…it wasn’t a joke. Steven’s eyes were dead serious as he looked over at you.

“Steven I…we can’t…”

“I know…I’m sorry, sorry I shouldn’t have said anything, sorry.” He put his phone away quickly and sipped his orange juice.

When your dad came back downstairs, Steven seemed to have a hard time recollecting himself after his little comment. Breakfast ended abruptly with Steven looking at the clock and feigning surprise. He thanked your dad for letting him crash there for the night, made up some excuse as to why he needed to leave so suddenly and then waved goodbye to both of you before making a quick exit. You wondered if you were ever going to see him again.

----

For two weeks you fought off thoughts about your dad’s best friend. You tried so hard not to think about the way his arms felt carrying you up to bed the other night; so hard not to think about the way he smelled when you had your face buried in his neck; you tried so fucking hard not to think about the way his fingers felt brushing over your clit while he kissed you so passionately.

You were surprised when your father left for work and only a couple of hours later, Steven arrived. You hadn’t heard him come in, and nearly screamed when you heard papers shuffling downstairs while you were stepping out of the shower. You peered out the window and saw his car parked in the driveway. You let out a sigh of relief, realizing that there wasn’t a burglar in your home, but that initial fear was replaced with an anxiety that you couldn’t shake. Steven was there. He was actually there.

“He’s just here to help you with your resume,” you said to yourself in your vanity mirror, as though that was somehow supposed to stop the ache growing between your legs.

It wasn’t like it was easy to push away the thoughts that crept into your mind. You had to admit that there were a couple nights where you’d made a panting, wet mess of yourself while you imagined him buried deep inside of you, making you so cock dumb you could hardly breathe. Now you were alone together, and he was supposed to be helping you with your resume. You needed to pull yourself together. This was your dad’s best friend, and no good could come out of fulfilling your stupid fantasies.

When you finally came downstairs, dressed in something modest to help you both suppress your desires, you thought you were going to be able to stay strong. He was sitting on the couch, back to, fluffy dark curls in disarray as usual. Your mind, for a mere second, flashed to your fingers entangled in them, but you quickly shook he thought from your head.

You can do this, you said to yourself, it’s just Steven. It’s just good old–

The fucker turned around, bright eyes shining like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. You stopped in your tracks, pressing your hand to your chest like he’d just punched the air from your lungs. There were no words coming out of your mouth. You wanted to ask him how his trip was. You wanted to start discussing the pros and cons of putting certain extracurricular activities on your resume.

He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. He was nervous. Why wasn’t he talking? You clearly weren’t going to be the one to say the first word, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He didn’t talk, he just walked closer, each scuff of his shoe was deafening in the quiet air of your house.

“Stev–”

His lips were over yours before you could think, and you were falling into it hopelessly, grabbing the hem of his denim coat to pull yourself in closer. How was this happening? This was Steven, the guy who your dad trusted more than anyone, and he was grabbing both of your hips and pulling them tightly against his. You felt his prodding erection so strong and needy against your lower abdomen. If he couldn’t be the bigger person, you had to be. You pulled away from his arms while simultaneously pushing him back. He looked at you like a kicked puppy, lips pressed together tightly.

“Steven we can’t. We can’t,” you insisted, despite your wanting to let him bend you over the arm of the couch.

He nodded slowly, “I’m sorry I know. Sorry, I understand, truly love, it’s just…damn…sorry.”

He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to you. You walked up to him and put a hand on his back, looking over to meet his eye. He looked hurt by your rejection, but you knew he wasn’t stupid. You knew he understood why this, whatever this was, couldn’t continue for a moment longer. You both cared about your father so much, you couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him.

“S’not like I have girls throwing themselves at me y’know? I know I’m your dad’s best mate but…you’re so smart, you’re talented, not to mention incredibly beautiful I can’t–”

“Steven.”

“-and all they’ve ever done is laugh at me when I ramble on about the things I like, and you looked at me like—”

“Steven,” you repeated.

“-no one’s ever really cared about anything I’ve had to say. Not really and—”

“Steven!” Finally he stopped and looked at you. “I get it, and I’m sorry too. We just…can’t.”

You didn’t realize Steven had felt that way about you. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same, but you knew you couldn’t act on it. It wasn’t fair to your dad. After several more apologies, Steven determined he couldn’t bear to stay there and help you with your resume, so he grabbed his papers quickly and hurried out of your house.

----

After three weeks passed, you wondered if Steven would ever come back to your house. That is until your dad was on his way out the door for work and told you he’d received a text from Steven yesterday. Apparently he felt bad that you still didn’t have a job after being home all that time. Your cheeks grew hot immediately when you thought about the prospect of being alone with him again. Your dad left, and you just stood there wondering what you were going to do.

You could still remember what Steven’s lips tasted like, and what his hands felt like. You still thought about him when you were alone in your room gasping quietly with two fingers plunged deep inside your wet channel. You wanted him, but you were afraid. What if your dad found out? You couldn’t risk it…but maybe…maybe, Steven was worth the risk.

You thought for a moment about your alternatives; the men you were supposed to be interested in; the men who weren’t best friends with your father. In your experience, most of them treated you like you were an idiot and not worth their time. None of them acted like you were important to them. They certainly didn’t look at you as though you were the only woman in existence and tell you that you were smart, talented and beautiful.

They also didn’t know you like Steven did. Steven was there to talk to you on the late nights after a family barbecue when you couldn’t sleep and your dad was already in bed. He was there to help you with your impossibly difficult homework assignments, and he was there when you left for college, making sure you knew how to get around paying full price for your textbooks. – ‘Just buy them an edition or two under the one the professor asks you for, yeah? They’re pretty much the same thing and way cheaper.’ –

By the time he arrived a couple hours later, you realized that Steven was the obvious choice above all others, it was so clear. You walked down the stairs silently. Why were you still denying it? Was it because you knew there was no way it could really work out? Surely you’d be stuck perpetually lying and sneaking around to avoid getting caught. It would be an exciting endeavor at first, but it would stop being fun and eventually be downright exhausting. When you saw him this time, sitting there in your living room back to on the couch with his laptop and notebooks, you didn’t care anymore. All of that could get dealt with later. You wanted him in every way.

You wanted him now.

“Steven I–”

You froze in your tracks, seeing his laptop screen over the top of his head. He had a website open, a dating site. You could see the lewd messages between him and a pretty girl on the screen. Steven said a few curses while he tried to close the window, meanwhile you were trying to calm yourself down. You had no real reason to be upset. You’d turned him down, he was just doing what he should’ve been doing from the start, dating women that weren’t his best friend’s kid. That didn’t stop you from feeling the disappointment pool in your gut like a bad meal.

“Sorry, just…there.”

He finally got the window moved and now had a text document open. You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on the floor. Why was this bothering you so much? It should’ve been a relief. He was moving on, and now you could too. It was simple. Life could go back to normal.

“Actually…” You gulped harshly, holding back the tears that threatened just behind the surface, “actually I wish dad had asked me before he texted you. I don’t need…” you gestured to him and the area surrounding, “this anymore.”

“What, you don’t need—oh, I see what’s happenin’ here,” Steven’s smile grew over his face, and for a moment you felt hopeful that he was going to scoop you up and kiss your sorrows away.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah…I do…you missy got a job and you haven’t told your dad yet!” He walked over and grabbed your shoulders. Was this the part where he kissed you?

Nope.

“Congratulations! See, I knew you were brilliant. Didn’t even need me after all.”

It would seem that the universe was looking out for you anyway. Your dad walked through the door having forgotten his lunch in the fridge earlier that morning. He mumbled about how he was glad they let him leave to grab it, but damned himself still for forgetting it in the first place. If you and Steven had been standing there, tongues down each other’s throats…you wouldn't have been caught so easily. It would appear the rejection was a blessing in disguise.

Steven kept your ‘secret’ about the job you didn’t really have and proceeded to strike up a conversation with your dad while you just felt the world crumble around you. You’d never felt such a pit of dread in your stomach. You felt numb, and walked up to your room, deciding to stay there for the remainder of the day.

----

You weren’t thrilled at the prospect of Steven coming by to check on you while your dad was out of town for the week. Steven had seemed to have moved on easily from you. You even heard your dad talking about how he had a girl he’d taken on a date a couple of times. You wondered if it was the same girl he was messaging on the dating site. Two dates within the last two weeks. He must’ve really been smitten with her. Meanwhile, you were spending your evenings trying to stop thinking about that stupid night you’d spent together, and how much you regretted all of it.

But mostly you regretted pushing him away when he’d come back from his holiday.

When he finally showed up, it was after dinner. You were sitting on the couch watching some crappy movie about five guys taking down a Columbian drug lord. You paused the movie and turned around to see him standing there. He was so handsome. Your stomach fluttered wildly, making you feel nauseous. You turned back to the tv and pressed play again, not saying a word.

“Hi love. Just coming in to check on you, y’know? Your father asked me to so…here I am,” he sounded timid, like he was trying to calm down a wild animal. He knew you were upset…was it that obvious?

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need him there anyway, checking in on you. You were twenty-two, not seven. He had no reason to be there other than your father acting over protective in a way that was even more annoying than he could possibly understand. Steven walked around to the other side of the couch and sat down. Looking up at the screen, he pointed and chuckled.

“Never seen this film before, but don’t think that’s very smart, burnin’ their money like that yeah?” He shifted, wiping his hands on his pants.

He was nervous again.

You finally looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay here. You can tell my dad you checked on me and just go.”

“I’m guessing you heard about Jane…”

“Didn’t know her name,” you said coldly, “but yeah, I heard about her.”

“I just thought that…if you really didn’t want this, whatever this is, then I’d better find some way to move on. Maybe you should—”

“I’ll be right back,” you slammed the remote down and started for the stairs.

“I’ll pause it if you—”

“Nope! Enjoy the movie Stevie!”

You had no right.

You had no right to be as angry as you were about Steven finding someone that he could spend time with out in the open. He could kiss her in the street, he could take her on a date, he could bring her over and put his arm around her in front of your dad. She could give him all the things that you couldn’t.

Now it was too late. You were sitting in your room, trying desperately not to cry so loudly that Steven would hear you from downstairs. Either you failed in your attempt to be quiet, or he was going to come up to your room whether he heard you or not, because he pushed your door open with a low creak. You looked up at him, standing there with his hands balled up in fists in front of himself. He looked almost like a child who was afraid of getting in trouble.

“Love?” He asked.

You wiped your eyes quickly, turning away so he couldn’t see you.

“Please go away, Steven,” you said in a nasally tone.

“Yeah, I will…in a minute.”

You felt the bed shift next to you and you turned your back to him completely, crossing your legs on the bed. You felt uncomfortable knowing he was right behind you. Your feelings of discomfort were amplified when you felt his hand on your shoulder with a light tug. He was strong, and you weren’t in a position to fight back, so you fell into his chest.

“Are we gonna talk about this or are we going to keep pretending we don’t feel…something?” He asked, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Y’know I only went out with her because you made it exceptionally clear that you were finished with me...but I never stopped thinking about you.”

“We’re going to keep pretending,” you turned around and looked at him deeply, “because it’s wrong, Steven.”

“So then let’s just…” he leaned in close to you, “we can just let it go if…” you leaned closer, “if you want.”

“We really shouldn’t…” his nose brushed against yours, “if we get caught my dad…” your mouths were almost touching, “he’ll be so mad I–”

It was over. You pushed Steven back onto the bed and kissed him sloppily, desperate to feel him again. You straddled him and already felt the strength of his erection pressing against you through his pants. He grabbed your hips and held them in place, rubbing himself against you hungrily. While it did feel good, having him dry hump you and feeling the sweet friction of the clothes you wore against your needy clit, you wanted more.

“Get your pants off, please,” you practically begged, working on discarding your own bottoms.

Steven complied, and when he did you froze in awe at the size of him. He was bigger than you’d thought he would be which excited you as you climbed over him again. You felt his fat tip prodding at your entrance, becoming slick with your juices. He rested a large hand on either of your hips, squeezing hard. You thought he was going to let you set the pace but…

“Sorry love, sorry I–” he grunted and thrust upward into you while simultaneously pulling you down, gasping as he did, “-oh just had to feel you—oh shit. Been thinkin’ about it f’so long now.”

“Oh-Steven oh my–” you fell forward, leaning down to kiss him while he jackhammered into you at an unforgiving pace.

The sound of skin slapping skin was deafening and he never slowed the speed at which he fucked you from below. You tried to keep your lips over his but you couldn’t so you sat upright, looking down at him. He licked his bottom lip and then trapped it under his top teeth. Both of his large hands were gripping your thighs, holding you in place with a bruising strength.

“Lean back f’me, love. Grab my legs.”

You whined as you did what he asked, arching back and grabbing onto his shins.

“There you go darling, now slide back and forth.” You started rocking your hips as he’d instructed, dragging his cock along your walls in a delicious rhythm. “Yeah, there y’go, just like that.”

Your jaw fell open when Steven pressed the pad of his thumb on your clit. He started rolling his finger over the sensitive nub, circling gently. You whined at the touch, looking down at him. His strong jaw was still clenched while he bit his bottom lip. You kept sliding yourself back and forth, taking his cock as deep as you could and feeling the way it would twitch inside of you on every pass. He felt so good, any reservations you had were gone, he was all you wanted…all you needed.

“Does that feel good, love? You’re squeezing so tight–god–it’s so…” 

Steven was still using his free hand to hold onto your thigh and help your movements. You could feel him churning his hips what little bit he could in rhythm with your own. Thank goodness your father wasn’t home or there would be no denying what you were doing. You were practically screaming Steven’s name while he dragged his fat cock against that sweet spot deep inside of you. His thumb kept brushing over your clit, sending electric currents through your entire body.

“Feels so good Steven–yes ah!”

He shocked you when he sat up so suddenly, bringing his face close to yours. You kissed him deeply and started sliding up and down over him. He disconnected his lips from yours and looked at you, eyes so hooded with desire that you’d think he was drunk if you didn’t know any better.

“Love the way you work yourself on me darling. You look so pretty when you’re taking what you want from me. Don’t stop–mm yes–just–like–that.”

You’d never heard Steven’s voice sound so rough and wrecked before. He lifted your shirt and took one of your nipples into his mouth, humming into your breast as he did. When you looked down all you could see was his brown curls peeking out under your shirt. His hands worked to spread your ass cheeks and help you move while you continued grinding down on top of him. You felt a bead of spit trickling down your torso from Steven’s continued mawing at your chest.

“Steven, not gonna make it much longer!” You whined loudly.

“I know love, I can feel it,” he grunted. “Just let go f’me, I’m right there.”

If not for Steven’s strong arms continuing the pace, you would’ve stopped moving the moment your orgasm took over your body. It felt so good your legs went completely numb, struggling to hold you up. You felt your cunt squeezing around his girth, contracting and releasing while you gushed over him. His hips shot up, one harsh snap as his own climax peaked, hot white spend filling you so full that you felt it leak out around the sides of his cock.

You were both a breathless heap when you were done and coming back down from your high. You found yourself wrapped in his arms in your bed while sleep took you both over. You never thought in a million years that you and Steven would’ve done something so intimate, but now that you’d actually felt him, and been so close to him, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

----

Steven had awoken the following morning next to you and you wondered what would take place after that. Was he going to want to continue seeing you, or was he going to continue seeing that Jane girl?

He was going to continue seeing Jane…and then he didn’t see you again for another three weeks. When he’d left that morning after he ‘checked’ on you, he assured you that continuing to date her would be a way of throwing your father off your trail. The two of you would be able to keep seeing each other in secret, and your dad wouldn’t think anything of it. The only problem was, you weren’t seeing each other at all. Steven straight up blew you off, so when your dad told you he was coming over for dinner, you felt anxious almost immediately.

Dinner was almost ready when your phone buzzed on the counter. You picked it up. Joey, the guy you’d met last week at the local coffee shop was asking if you were still on for tomorrow night. You replied, ‘yes’, and then put your phone in your pocket. As hard as it was, going out with someone else was a necessary step in getting things back to normal. Steven clearly had no intention of pursuing things with you further, so why were you going to wait for him? It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to let him go though, after everything you’d been through together.

When he walked into the house sporting his usual nervous smile and disheveled dark locks, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was still so handsome. It’s not like you expected that to change, but you’d hoped that maybe you would’ve stopped mentally putting him on a pedestal by now so you could move on. But you didn’t, and you couldn’t.

“Hey, Steven.” You said coldly with a glare to match as he approached the dining table.

“Oh, hey!” He looked genuinely happy to see you. 

You tried so hard not to look like you wanted to turn him to stone with your gaze, but you couldn’t help it. After the night you’d shared together, and the things he said you would do under your dad’s nose, him standing you up had done nothing but piss you off. You didn’t even want to go on a date with the loser from the coffee shop, you’d just wanted something…anything to help clear your mind from Steven, and yet here he was, sitting right in front of you, acting like nothing fazed him at all.

You wasted no time telling him about the date.

“Steven, I wanted to tell you how excited I am about tomorrow night, I’m going on a date!”

You looked up from your plate to see Steven with a forkful of mashed potatoes sitting in front of his wide open mouth. He seemed to be frozen by your words, and a snide smirk rested over your face. He popped the mash into his mouth, getting a little on his chin and shirt while he just kept looking at you.

“Well…” he said, mouth full and using his napkin to dab his chin, “that’s…erm…that’s good innit?” He took a huge gulp of wine.

You shrugged, “I suppose. Sometimes you just have to take what you want when things don’t go your way.”

The conversation wasn’t about you and Joey anymore.

You swigged your own wine down in one gulp. Steven’s whole demeanor changed, like he was mentally disconnected from the conversation, even while he spoke.

“Oh, erm, you like this guy then? He’s nice?” He wasn’t looking at you, instead he was poking the food on his plate nervously.

“I don’t know,” you tried to sound indifferent, “if nothing else he’ll be a good distraction. Keep things interesting.”

Steven nodded, and looked back up at you. He was forcing himself to eat, you could tell by the way he popped his fork into his mouth again unenthusiastically. His eyes were glossing over. You knew he was seconds from the waterworks and you hoped that your dad didn’t notice. When you looked in your father’s direction, he was fixated on his own phone, likely something to do with work.

Steven finally responded, “good…it will be good for you to find someone you can spend time with then.”

“He’s right, you know.” Your dad chimed in, seemingly oblivious to the private conversation you and Steven were having right under his nose. “You’ve got a good job, now it’s time to find someone who makes you happy right?”

“Yeah, he is right isn’t he? I mean…he’s got someone to make him happy, Judy, right Steven? So he should know how nice it feels.” You kept your eyes on your dad who admittedly looked at you quizzically when you said something so clearly pointed at Steven.

You just made it uncomfortably awkward…even more so than it already was.

“Who wants more wine?” You asked, getting up and going to the kitchen, effectively ending the awkward exchange.

The glasses of wine were filled while you and Steven continued to avoid looking at each other. You both guzzled down three more glasses each while your father and he entertained more small talk. When dinner concluded, he got up and went outside to start putting together a fire, and your dad asked you to do the dishes and join them when you were finished.

You did the dishes, but you didn’t join them. You told your dad you weren’t feeling well and instead retreated to your room. The last thing you wanted to do was continue the awkwardness that transpired at the dinner table. You thought that would be the end of it, that Steven would have enough sense to just let you walk away and let the spark between you both die down.

You were wrong.

Your father had gone to bed almost a half hour before you heard Steven working his way upstairs. You thought for sure he would walk right by your room and go to the guest room, but he didn’t. Steven twisted your door handle and walked in, closing the door quickly while he stepped inside. You sat up and looked at him with confusion, rubbing the fatigue from your eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked. He stumbled so you got up quickly and put your hands on his shoulders. “Hey! Careful. Here…sit down.”

You helped him onto your bed hurriedly before your dad woke up to his drunk friend being a little too noisy in your bedroom. Steven groaned and covered his face with his hands, slouching over.

“I’m so dumb, I’m sorry. Listen to me love, please, just listen and don’t kick me out.” Steven looked at you with those eyes that made your body melt into a puddle every time you saw them.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “What?” Maybe you sounded a little too harsh, but to say you were angry was an understatement.

He took a deep breath, “I made a huge mistake. I am so sorry I tried to gather the courage to reach out to you, but then I thought about your dad and I started to feel a bit guilty.”

“It’s a little late for that isn’t it?”

“A bit…yeah a bit…but I still felt it. And like, wakin’ up next to you was the best moment of my entire life. I can’t even begin to describe it, it was like–“

“I know Steven, I felt the same.”

Relief flooded over his body and that love-dumb smile spread across his lips. He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you to stand between his legs, resting his face between your breasts. You felt a vibration across your sternum from him mumbling to you. You stepped back and looked down at him.

“What?”

“I said, I’m sorry.” His eyes were glossy again. “I didn’t have the courage to reach out to you, and then it had been over a week and I thought surely I shouldn’t reach out to you now because you’d be angry no doubt. I wanted to, I really, really–”

You were a certified moron for kissing him right then. He didn’t prove to you in the slightest that he cared about you, not with his actions anyway, but you were still a little buzzed from the wine you’d had earlier, and you felt the arousal building between your legs. Not to mention the small part of you that actually believed the words coming out of his mouth. When you tried to pull away from the kiss, Steven wrapped his arms around your bottom and pulled you close. You conceded, cupping his cheeks and sucking his lower lip in between your teeth.

If kissing Steven was one thing, it was messy, sloppy, and wet. He tasted like wine and something entirely unique to Steven. You wanted to devour him in every sense of the word, to feel him around you and inside of you all at once. He was faster than you, quickly removing his pants and getting them down around his ankles, staying positioned still on the edge of the bed.

The cheap lace panties you’d worn must’ve had a small tear already started, that or Steven was deceptively strong, because he ripped them all too easily. He threw them aside like they’d personally wronged him and you moved to straddle him on the edge of the mattress. The thick head of his cock was already prodding so hungrily against your greedy hole. You finally took your mouth off Steven’s and looked at him. He was so pretty, lips glossy and swollen from your oral onslaught.

“Did you fuck her?” You asked, breathless.

Steven shook his head, “no, couldn’t bring m’self to do that to you love. Not a chance.”

He leaned up and kissed you again, even harder than before, which you didn’t think was possible. You took your frustration out on his lips, still mad at him for leaving you high and dry for so long. Oh but you weren’t dry now, you were anything but dry. Steven grabbed your hips in both of his big hands and pulled you down roughly over his length. You moaned deeper into his mouth, attempting to keep yourself from alerting your father who was, hopefully, sleeping down the hall.

Steven grabbed your asscheeks firmly and started bouncing you like you were weightless over his girth. He was hitting you so deep, filling you so full you could hardly stand it. You couldn’t bring yourself to take your lips from his though. The way they felt, the fixation you had on making the flesh there all raw and slick was maddening.

He was so noisy, not only in the way the bed creaked with his movements, but his hungry moans that you gladly swallowed whole would wake the neighborhood if you didn’t stifle them somehow. You broke it off and looked down at him. His puffy lips, so swollen from your relentless sucking, were spit soaked and shining.

“You need to quiet down Steven or my dad is going to hear us,” you whispered softly.

“I know love I know it just-oh my God–it just feels–it feels so good.” 

He grabbed the back of your neck for more sloppy kisses, as though they were his life support. Now one-handed, he relied on you to take over the motions, and you were happy to comply. You slid yourself up and down over his fat cock, feeding him your whines and whimpers while it split you open. He pulled your head back, breaking your faces apart once again.

“Don’t want you going on that date love, I don’t like it,” he looked at you so heartbroken you slowed your movements.

“I have to go Steven, we can’t let my dad know that we’re up to something, and if we’re both dating someone else then–” He interrupted you with his mouth again, “—then he’ll never suspect that–” another, “—we’re together.”

Steven shook his head, “don’t like the thought.”

He picked you up and laid you on your back without pulling out of you. Now you were both on the bed, him on top of you, thrusting slowly in what you assumed was an attempt to keep the noise to a minimum. You wished he could slam into you harder, despite knowing it would be a huge mistake.

“Don’t want you with someone else. Don’t want you makin’ these sounds for anyone else.” His face buried into the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses there.

A sharp gasp escaped you when he nipped your neck. He started licking and sucking the skin there. You whined from the pain; he was drawing the flesh into his mouth harshly.

“Steven, you're going to leave a mark,” you warned, trying to pull yourself away from his mouth.

He hummed against you, fucking harder and sucking harder. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from alerting your father to what you and Steven were doing. That’s when you felt the arousal pooling like hot lava in your core. It came on so fast, hitting you like a wave until you were gushing and clenching around his wide girth. Steven choked out a low moan, finally releasing the hold he had on your neck. You felt him filling you, hot cum squelching out around him as he thrusted through his orgasm.

When you were both finished, he was breathing heavily with his face still resting on your neck. You knew why he was staying. You understood what he was feeling because you felt it too. You didn’t want to let go. An eternity could go by and it wouldn’t be enough time with him. He lifted himself up on his elbows and then leaned down to kiss you one more time.

“You’ve got to go on that date darling, I know you do but…I don’t want to ever hear about it alright? When we’re together, we don’t need to talk about any of it, I won’t talk about…her either. Please.” His eyes darted between yours rapidly.

You nodded, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “okay, not a word.”

---- 

You���d never felt so stupid.

There you were, standing in the rain outside of the restaurant where you’d been stood up. Your dad was gone for the weekend on business, and you didn’t know who else to call, that’s why you called him. He’d always be there for you, you knew that. No matter the situation, no matter the time, he would always come to your rescue.

Steven.

He pulled up to the sidewalk, stopping fast right in front of you, a little water splashing up and nearly getting all over your shoes. Steven was fast to run over, umbrella at the ready for the short walk to the car. You didn’t even need the thing, truth be told, but you weren’t going to tell him that. He looked so damn happy just to be your knight in shining armor.

“It’s pourin’ out, love! Why didn’t you wait inside?” He yelled over the rain.

You ignored his question, finding yourself only focused on the way his dampened curls framed his handsome face. Maybe you did need the umbrella after all; It kept you both dry while you grabbed his coat and pulled him close, slotting your lips over his in a deep, passion filled kiss. He used his free hand to tug you in even closer by the small of your back.

“Steven…” You looked up at him and found yourself lost in the beauty of his sparkling eyes.

“Darling, you’re gonna catch a cold out here if we don’t get inside the car,” he held out his arm, “how about I get you home to change and then take I’ll take you out on a real date, hm?”

Your stomach fluttered at the thought. A real date? With Steven? You took his arm and let him lead you to the car, but your mind was still racing. He got on the other side and started driving off.

“You want to take me on a date?” You looked over at him incredulously.

He started his usual stammering, “w-well I mean…if you’d like to, y-yeah. Not gonna make you do anythin’ you don’t want to, I was just thinkin–”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to.”

You pulled down the mirror in the car. You looked like a drowned rat, and felt grateful that Steven had offered to bring you home prior to taking you out on a date. Your makeup was running down your cheeks and your tight red dress was soaked through. You chuckled and flipped the visor back up. You really did look like shit. You wouldn’t even want to take you out looking like that.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, it’s just, what about my dad? We can’t just go out together, what if someone sees us? And what about Jane? I’m sure if she catches you out with another woman she won’t be too happy.”

Steven pulled into the driveway. It was awkwardly quiet except for the rain pitter pattering on the windshield. You didn’t get out right away, you were feeling too overwhelmed to move. On one hand, you were seriously considering the future with Steven. It was clear that you were both too hung up on each other to keep this hidden. On the other hand, you couldn’t fathom telling your father about this. What would he say?

“Well for starters, I broke up with Jane,” you looked over at Steven, eyes wide and buzzing from his words. “I felt too guilty stringing her along while I knew my heart wasn’t in it and…” he took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles softly, “every time I was with her, I felt miserable that I wasn’t with you.”

“What do you think we should do then?” You asked, looking at him and hoping he had some magical solution that didn’t involve telling your dad…ever.

“We have to tell your father, love. I know it’s not what you want to hear but…I can’t keep doin’ this. I want to be with you. Not hidin’, not sneakin’ about. I want to take you out and spoil you and be a real couple, you know?”

Damn it.

“Alright,” you let out the breath you’d been holding for far too long. Despite the anxiety pooling in your chest, you smiled, “let’s go on that date then.”

----

Moon Knight DBF Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

As a friendly reminder, I don't have a taglist anymore. You can follow @melodygatesupdates and turn on notifications for updates.