#anyway it is a step forward that i can be like. okay yeah you know what things are going to be fine. eventually i will like the way i look

[leupagus]

It's funny because I don't even think Abbot is the most interesting person on the night shift, let alone in the show, yet I continue rotating him, as the kids say, in my head*

and I keep coming back to the idea of Walsh and Abbot as not-rivals-not-exes-but-a-third-dumber-thing.

Because can you just IMAGINE, the day shift winding down at the park benches after another shitty day, this time with Santos and Whitaker and Mel, but without Robby for whatever reason, maybe he’s taking some PTO and so Abbot steps in to pull a double like he’s some dumbass resident, but it’s the end of the shift so whatever, they’re all relaxing until Walsh comes stomping out there to scream at Abbot for some patient they sent up to Trauma Surgery an hour or so before, which Abbot responds to by bellowing right back, re-attaching his leg just so he can storm off after her when she shouts about practicing medicine from at least the 20th century if not the 21st, and also he still hasn’t answered Christie’s evite, and if he doesn’t want to be sitting at the kid’s table again he’d better fucking get a Partiful account and respond before she pulls his spleen out through his urethra.

The sound of Drs. Abbot and Walsh arguing fades as they stomp back toward the hospital, though it takes a surprisingly long time until Mel can no longer hear a shouted, “Are you shitting me?” from one or the other of them. But finally the doors close and there’s just the gentle susurration of traffic.

In the ensuing quiet, Santos lets out a low whistle.

Princess laughs and nudges Donnie for another beer. “Bet you guys won’t miss that,” she says to Javadi, who smiles and looks around the group in quick succession — nervous, curious, cautious.

“I always wondered, actually,” she says. “About— you know. Their deal.”

“Their deal— oh,” Mel realizes, almost as soon as she speaks. “You mean why they act so unprofessionally around each other?” Next to her, Dr. Mohan laughs.

“It’s weird though, right?” says Whitaker, his brows knit together. “Like, I know a lot of people who work here are friends outside of work, or like, have a close relationship—”

“Oh, they are not friends,” Donnie mutters, draining the last of his beer and crushing it tidily between his hands. “Way worse.”

“My money’s on exes,” Santos says, sitting up from her prone position on the cement. She takes Dr. Abbot’s seat, elbows on her knees, leaning forward. “Who wants in on the action?”

“The three people who don’t already know the answer don’t bet,” Whitaker says.

Santos looks around at them, her gaze identical to the one she wears when she’s assessing a new patient. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“So what is their, um, deal?” Mel asks.

“Okay, so,” says Princess, shifting side to side in her seat. “About three years ago, the higher-ups finally got us another attending—”

“Yeah, Robby’d only been asking for one ever since he’d taken over—”

“—and it’s this very charming Dr. Jonathan Abbot, we all love him down here, he’s great, right? I mean, great for doctors,” Princess adds.

“No offense,” Donnie offers, though Princess’s expression indicates that she may have meant a little bit of offense.

“Anyway, it’s all great. Except, at the same time we get a new trauma surgeon and our brand new shiny Dr. Abbot fucking hates her. They’re usually on the same shift so the whole place is just fucking miserable whenever she comes down to consult, and some of us are sociopathic enough, Donnie—"

“I was only friends with Melissa— not you, different Melissa— to get the skinny on what was going on with Walsh and Abbot!” Donnie protests.

“And what did you find out? Shit is what you found out,” Princess informs him.

“Not true, I’m the one who found out they were related.”

“They’re what?” Dr. Mohan says, looking equal parts horrified and about to burst into laughter. “That’s — oh, wow, that explains some things.”

“Wait, didn’t you know about this?” Santos demands, waggling her fingers to point at Mohan and Princess and Donnie in turn. “You’ve worked here for like—"

“I didn’t know anything about this,” Dr. Mohan confirms, though she doesn’t sound annoyed. More… rueful, maybe.

“Well, we thought you were kind of stuck-up until last month,” Princess says, leaning companionably against Dr. Mohan’s shoulder.

Dr. Mohan frowns, but it doesn't look as though she really means it. “I’m not! I’m just… studying, most of the time.”

“You never seemed stuck-up to me,” Mel offers, unsure if it will help at this moment but willing to try.

“You seemed super stuck up to me, but you’re also kind of the shit so it’s fine,” Santos says.

“Okay, you all are doctors, your opinion on doctors is irrelevant,” says Princess. “Do you want to hear about the whole Walsh Abbot thing or what?” They all want to hear about the whole Walsh Abbot thing, so she continues. “All we know at this point is that these guys have beef, big time. But nobody can figure out if it’s like, sexual tension—”

‘’—genuine hatred,” Donnie chimes in.

“I had five bucks on ‘Walsh ran over Abbot’s dog,’ I remember,” Princess said with a certain air of reminiscence.

“Anyway,” Donnie continues, “everybody’s trying to figure it out — we check Linked-In to try and see if they worked together before or what, but Abbot doesn’t even have a fuckin’ Linked-In. So somebody, not naming names, his name might begin with J-E-S-U-S, looks at their personnel files, and there’s no overlap anywhere.”

“However!” Princess says, lifting her hand with one finger aloft, dramatic as all get-out. Mel finds herself oddly captivated by it. She wonders how many residents and med students have heard this story at their feet, learning not just how to heal and mend but the lore and mythos of the hospital itself, the things you learn when you don’t think you’re learning at all.

“However,” Donnie is saying, echoing Princess’s word if not her gesture, “there’s a gap in Dr. Abbot’s work history. Eighteen months, right after he’s injured in Afghanistan.”

“So then,” Princess continues, “somebody gets real fucked up and calls their friend at the VA, who checks their records. And during those eighteen months, guess where Dr. Walsh was working?”

“A VA hospital,” Mel guesses, which receives an odd response — everyone else makes a theatrical ooh sound.

“Yes, exactly,” Princess says. “Turns out Walsh is the doc who amputated his foot.” There's a louder oooh; Mel can't really pinpoint why she joins in, but there's a certain satisfaction to it.

"And after that? They don’t work at the same place but they’re always in the same city. Charlottesville—“

“Portland—”

“—then Detroit. And now they’re here.”

“…Secretly married?” Dr. Mohan ventures, pursing her entire face. “I mean, I could maybe see it. Is that what you meant by related?”

“No fair, Slo-Mo, you said you wouldn’t bet!” Santos protests.

“Not married,” Donnie says. “Not divorced.”

“They have definitely never known each other biblically,” Princess confirms. “No, it’s even worse than that. They’re—” She pauses, and Donnie drums his hands on his knees, as though this were an announcement on an old-time contestant show. “—in-laws.”

“What?” says…well, pretty much everybody.

“Walsh married Abbot’s little sister,” Donnie says, nodding. “Pretty much the day it was legal in PA.”

Mel felt a sinking in her abdomen. “Does Dr. Abbot not… approve, or—"

“Oh, fuck no — sorry, no,” Donnie says, laughing as he reaches out a hand. “No, dude’s chill with the LGBTQ-Plus, don’t even worry, no. It’s kinda… so look, we weren’t there, we can’t say what happened—"

“Fuck you, I can,” Princess says, dismissing him with a wave. “Abbot’s sister came in once, looking for him, and I managed to get her to cough up the story. What happened was at the wedding, Abbot got totally fucking hammered and gave like — the most embarrassing speech of all time, like about how his little sister came out to him first and he expressed his allyship by taking her to a dyke bar in downtown Phoenix.”

“Seems supportive to me,” Santos says.

Whitaker snorts. “Yeah, that’s because you’re broken,” to which Javadi nods thoughtfully.

[f1owermoon]

sorry i just. need to rant for a second

[thebirdandhersong]

I think in between having medium level body dysmorphic background noise since elementary school and the annoying mouse critic voice in my head doing comparison studies 80% of the time, it's really a step forward that I'm now able to look myself in the mirror and say: okay. Let's start with this: I'm glad I have this body. I'm going to treat it well. I may not like the way it looks at times, but it's mine.

[mostly-imagines]

Motion Sickness

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason makes you cry after a fight

warnings: angst with comfort

“Jason—”

He waves you off immediately, “No, I’m not your problem, okay?”

Your arms drop, “You’re not a problem at all, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” he challenges. 

You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, “I’m saying you’re being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.”

He’s angry and you’re someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping you’ll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently. 

A tense exhale from him, “I don’t need your help, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”

“It’s not about needing it—”

“No, it’s about wanting it. I don’t want your fucking help,” he snaps. “I’m grown, I can handle my problems myself.”

You drop your hands to your sides, “Then what am I doing here, Jason?”

“I don’t know!” You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways. 

You know he doesn’t always think before he talks, especially when he’s mad. You’ve seen it plenty when he’s fighting with his family. This is the first time it’s shown up with you though, and while you know it’s not coming from a place of genuinity—it still really fucking stung. 

Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen. 

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. “You need to go away.”

There’s a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesn’t fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.

The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt.  

You and Jason don’t fight often but when you do it’s usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. He’d been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasn’t willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.

You know him, in and out. You could’ve anticipated this—you should’ve. You should’ve approached the topic more sensitively. And it’s not his fault, his life has taught him that it’s safer to believe that other people don’t have his best interest. You know that. 

Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and you’ve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still can’t trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?

You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before he’s even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.

He’s still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.

Dick stills, blinking warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.

As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, “What happened?”

Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, “Got in a fight.”

Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch. 

“What’d you do?”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth. 

“Be myself.”

Dick says nothing.

When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though it’s the last thing he wants to admit to.

“I made her cry,” he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew he’d hurt you.

Dick nods, not saying anything. He’s definitely been there before, though he’s not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.

He’s half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” he rasps.

Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. “When girls are mad you give them space but when they’re sad you definitely don’t. Is she sad or mad?”

Jason exhales desperately.

“Both, I think.”

Dick nods, understanding.

“Then go home.”

Jason shakes his head, defeated. “She told me to leave. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. “I basically told her to fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Dick drawls. “I wouldn’t let that simmer.”

Jason’s head snaps over to him. “She’ll break up with me?”

“No, I don’t—” Dick pauses, thinking over his words. “It’ll be fine. Just go home.”

Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to. 

He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that you’d remembered to lock it. 

The apartment’s mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.

He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how there’s no light flooding out from underneath.

“Baby?” Jason calls it out quietly, like he’s scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.

He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows you’re sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, “Can I come in?”

There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.

“Not right now.”

Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that he’s the one that made you feel like this.

He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.

He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.

He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance. 

Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you don’t know what to do with your hands. 

It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around him—because of him—so he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like he’s just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now. 

Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.

He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.

He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him.  

He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt you’d chosen was one of your own. He frowns.  

“Sweetheart. Can I touch you?” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to coax you back out to him.

It takes a long few moments, but you nod.

He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.

“Will you turn over?”

An even longer pause and you’re flipping over to face him. You don’t make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot. 

He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like he’s scared to touch you too harshly. Like he’s touching porcelain.

He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that you’ll talk when you’re ready.

You let it go on longer than he’d hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. He’d hoped you’d yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that you’re thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to. 

He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesn’t deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but he’s not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.

“Say it,” he urges. “Please.”

Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated. 

You face him, taking a breath and relenting. “I don’t like that you said that to me.”

He nods, brow deep. “Me neither.”

Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you don’t know if you should. He didn’t mean it, you know that, and they weren’t his words, really. But the snap of his voice when he’d said it and the look on his face—it made you feel terrible. It still does.

You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out. 

Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly. 

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry, please.”

But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.

He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. It’s what you needed though, to be close to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, baby—” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“No, it’s not.”

That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.

It’s not long before you’re able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.

When you’re ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                    

He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how they’re starting to stain.

You’re still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as you’re sure your face is conveying. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He shakes his head, “If I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. I’m serious.”

You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. “I’m not going to hit you—”

“Then break up with me. Don’t ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.”

His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.

Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and there’s a palpable shift to the air in the room.

“Hey.” He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, “Listen to me. You’re the love of my life. You hear me? I’m supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I don’t…I can’t talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.

He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, “Nobody’s gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?” 

You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until he’s convinced of your belief in the statement. 

He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isn’t the same as it was before though, it’s safer, more comfortable. It’s familiar, if not weighted.  

“I love you,” you tell him quietly.

His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

🦟 if you don't reblog things i'm actively sending bad vibes your way 🦟 and maybe also a plague

[drewsephrry]

Love Island: Episode 4 - Ex Marks the Spot

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 4.7k

warnings: sexual innuendos, alcohol consumption, cuss words

A heavy silence settles over the group as everyone turns to stare at Y/N.

“What are you talking about?” Rafe asks, his brows furrowing. Y/N swallows, her eyes flicking between the people around her before landing back on the boy hugging Maddy below. She exhales sharply.

“That’s…my ex.”

“Holy shit!” JJ blurts out, earning a smack from John B, who looks just as stunned. Alyssa and Pope are too busy staring at the date happening downstairs, but the rest of the group is locked onto Y/N.

“How long ago did you two break up?” Topper asks, his gaze darting toward Rafe, who is eerily quiet.

“Like a year.” She reveals. Alyssa scoffs, finally looking away from the scene below.

“Crocs? Seriously?” She wrinkles her nose as she gestures toward Kelce’s choice of footwear. Despite the tension twisting in her chest, Y/N finds herself smiling, shaking her head at Alyssa’s reaction. JJ leans forward, curiosity getting the best of him.

“What’s he like?” He pauses, then adds quickly. “I mean, like…you know what I mean.” Y/N shifts on her feet, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone’s attention. She exhales.

“He’s funny. Loves to travel, so much so that he became a travel agent. He loves soccer. He’s really creative, always took me on the weirdest dates you could imagine.” Her voice softens and without realizing it, a small smile tugs at her lips.

Rafe clenches his jaw. He watches the way Y/N’s expression softens, the way her lips curve when she talks about Kelce. It’s not even what she’s saying, it’s how she’s saying it. There’s a warmth in her voice, a familiarity that Rafe can’t compete with.

It pisses him off.

He shouldn't care. He shouldn’t feel this tightness in his chest at the thought of Y/N and Kelce, of all the time they had before he even entered the picture. He knows it’s stupid. It’s not like she’s his. Not officially, anyway.

But fuck, he wants her to be.

He watches her, torn between wanting to pull her away and hating that he even feels this way in the first place.

When she finally turns back toward him, it’s like she can feel the weight of his stare. Her brows furrow slightly.

“You okay?” She asks, her voice gentle. Rafe forces a smirk.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” She studies him for a second longer before nodding.

“No reason.” She doesn’t push and that’s what kills him.

Because maybe, deep down, a part of him wants her to push. To tell him she doesn’t want Kelce anymore, that he has nothing to worry about. That she’s his, even though they’ve never actually said those words out loud.

Instead, he just watches as she looks back toward Kelce, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

And Rafe feels that sharp twist in his chest again.

“Why’d you break up?” John B asks.

“That's not a nice thing to ask.” Sarah nudges him.

“No, it’s fine.” Y/N shakes her head. “We just wanted different things.” John B nods in understanding, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I get that.” He murmurs.

Rafe doesn’t say a word. He barely moves, but Y/N can feel his stare burning into her. His arms are crossed now, fingers gripping his biceps a little too tightly. His gaze flickers between her and Kelce.

The dates finish and soon enough, the islanders head downstairs to meet Kelce. JJ, John B and Pope are the first to approach, radiating their usual friendly, easygoing energy as they introduce themselves. Topper and Rafe follow, but there’s an undeniable shift in the atmosphere. There’s something about the way they move, less welcoming. When Kelce shakes Rafe’s hand, Rafe tightens his grip just a little too much. But Kelce doesn’t even flinch. He holds his ground, just as confident as ever.

The girls follow behind, Kiara’s fingers wrapped around Y/N’s hand as they walk through the flower corridor toward the yard. Sarah steps forward, greeting Kelce with a hug. But when she pulls back, something changes.

Kelce’s wide eyes flick to Y/N.

“No way!” He murmurs. Y/N smiles softly, already anticipating what’s coming.

“Yes way.” She mutters. Kelce doesn’t hesitate as he rushes toward her, sweeping her off the ground in a tight hug. Y/N squeals, clinging to him instinctively. It’s warm, familiar. When he sets her down, his hands linger at her waist and his eyes search hers.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“The right question is, what are you doing here?” She teases, shoving him playfully. Maddy, watching the exchange unfold, furrows her brows.

“Uh…what is going on?” She glances toward Rafe, who still hasn’t moved. His arms remain crossed, jaw visibly tightening.

“That’s Y/N’s ex.” Rafe announces flatly, making Maddy’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“Wait…he is Kelce? Like, Kelce Kelce?” Cleo interjects. “Your ex Kelce?”

Y/N nods.

“You talk about me?” Kelce asks, smirking.

“Oh my god, not like that.” Y/N groans, rolling her eyes as she shoves him again. He stumbles back slightly, clutching his chest in mock offense.

Noticing the tension radiating off Rafe like a ticking time bomb, Pope clears his throat.

“Hey, why don’t we all move to the firepit?” He suggests, trying to redirect the energy. “Let Kelce get to know everyone.”

The group shuffles over, settling in with the boys on one side, the girls on the other and Kelce in the middle.

“So, what do you guys wanna know?” Kelce asks, fiddling with his mic. He’s still getting used to it and Maddy, sitting beside him, leans in to adjust it properly. He shoots her a grateful smile.

“Y/N already gave us the rundown, so I think we’re all set, bro.” JJ says casually.

The moment the words leave his mouth, Pope smacks him.

“JJ, what the fuck?” Kiara hisses, while Y/N lets out a strangled noise and buries her face in her hands.

“What?” JJ rubs his chest, looking genuinely confused. “I’m just saying-”

“Don’t.” Alyssa interjects, rolling her eyes. “Anyway. What are you looking for in the villa?” Kelce exhales, thinking for a second.

“Honestly, this past year’s been a lot of growth for me. I feel like…our breakup really changed me.” He admits, glancing at Y/N.

That gets her attention. She slowly lowers her hands, meeting his gaze. For a second, nobody moves. The world stops spinning.

Then, Rafe clears his throat.

“You, uh…didn’t actually answer Alyssa.” Rafe mutters, scratching the back of his head. Topper lets out a barely contained snicker. Kelce blinks, then nods.

“Right. Right. Okay, yeah. I want something real. A committed relationship. I wanna find my person. Someone I can have fun with, travel with-”

“You’re a travel agent, right?” John B cuts in, smirking and Kelce laughs.

“Yeah. Y/N told you?” He throws her a knowing look before redirecting. “But enough about me. Who’s coupled up with who?”

“I’m with Topper.” Sarah says, glancing at Topper who gives Kelce a brief nod. “Kiara’s with Pope, Cleo’s with John B, Maddy’s with JJ.” She continues. Kelce nods, then looks straight at Y/N.

“And you’re with Rafe?” He asks. Everyone’s gaze lands on her.

“Um…it’s complicated.” Y/N admits, shifting in her seat. “I was coupled up with him and things were going good between us. Still are! But-”

“Alyssa coupled up with him.” Pope finishes for her.

“Guilty!” Alyssa grins, raising her hand. A few chuckles ripple through the group, but Rafe isn’t amused. His gaze stays locked on Y/N, watching the way she keeps sneaking glances at Kelce. The way her fingers fidget. The way she looks at him. He knows that look. It’s the same one that’s been driving him crazy since she first stepped into the villa.

“So, you’re the only single one, huh?” Kelce teases, smirking.

“Kelce…” Y/N groans, rolling her eyes with a small smile.

“What? Just stating facts.” He lifts his hands in surrender. Then, his smirk softens into something more thoughtful.

“Listen, I’m happy for you. I really am. I’m moving on, too.” His voice is easy, but there’s something unreadable behind it.

“And hey, this goes for all of you. I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes.” A beat passes. “But, you know…if something’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. That's how the game works.”

Everyone nods and Rafe wonders if he’s the only one who hears the double meaning in those words.

Soon enough, the girls head inside to gossip with Maddy and Cleo about the dates, leaving the boys to get to know Kelce.

“Okay, spill!” Sarah says to Maddy, sitting down on her bed and pulling a pillow to cuddle. Y/N sits beside her, still unsettled by the whole situation.

“I will, but Y/N, are you alright?” Maddy asks and the girls turn to look at her. Y/N glances around like a lost puppy before nodding quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course. Everything is fine. Totally fine.” She exclaims.

“Say it one more time and we might actually believe you.” Kiara says, rolling her eyes. Y/N sighs.

“It's just…this was really unexpected.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “And he just seemed so…mature. So different from back then.”

“Like he grew up?” Cleo asks cautiously and Y/N nods.

“Yeah. I don’t know. It’s not like we had a messy breakup or anything. It’s just…” She takes a deep breath and Sarah reaches over to hold her hand.

“You don’t have to talk about it. Breakups, even mutual ones, hurt.” Sarah says gently and the girls nod, ready to comfort her.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Y/N reassures them. “When Kelce and I broke up, it felt like my whole world ended. I struggled a lot with being on my own because I was so dependent on him. It took me a long time to find my footing and become the person I am now. And seeing him again like this…it just made me wonder if it was as hard for him as it was for me.” She exhales, pressing her lips together for a moment.

“And not in a bitter way, like, ‘Oh, I hope he suffered.’” She clarifies quickly.

“It’s just…I loved him. I still have so much love for him. But if it didn’t hurt him like it hurt me…if he just moved on without a second thought, then what does that say about what we had? Or-or about me?” She lets the words linger in the air, staring at the blanket bunched up in her lap. The weight of her own thoughts makes her chest tighten.

“I know it’s selfish.” She continues, her voice quieter now. “I want him to be happy, I really do. But there’s a part of me that hopes it wasn’t easy for him. That it meant something. Because if it didn’t…if I was the only one who struggled, then maybe I was just easy to forget.”

The room is silent for a beat before Kiara scoffs, shaking her head.

“Y/N, that’s not how love works.” She says firmly. “Just because someone handles pain differently doesn’t mean they didn’t feel it. He could’ve been hurting just as much, just in his own way.”

“Exactly.” Cleo agrees. “And, honestly? You don’t owe it to your past self to keep wondering. You made it through. That’s what matters.”

Y/N lets their words settle, nodding slowly. She wants to believe them. Wants to believe that just because Kelce looks like he’s moved on, it doesn’t mean what they had wasn’t real. That it doesn’t mean she was the only one who lost something. Sarah gives her hand a small squeeze.

“It’s okay to feel this way. Just, don’t let it take away from how far you’ve come.” She exclaims and Y/N swallows past the lump in her throat, forcing a small smile.

“Yeah. You’re right.” She just wishes it was that easy.

“Are you going to talk to him?” Alyssa asks cautiously. Y/N fidgets with her ring, avoiding their gazes.

“I don’t know.” She mutters.

“You don’t have to.” Maddy says quickly. Y/N exhales, forcing a small grin.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I can avoid him in here.” She pauses, then backtracks. “Wait, no-I didn’t mean it like I am or was trying to avoid him. Outside of here, I mean.” Sarah chuckles, squeezing her hand.

“We get what you’re saying.” Then she makes a face. “Why is your hand so sweaty, dude?” Y/N jerks her hand back, wiping it on the blanket.

“Oh my god, sorry.” The girls giggle as she huffs dramatically.

“Look, unless he wants to talk, I don’t have anything to say to him.” She continues. “I’m moving on. I have a good thing going with-” She suddenly stops, eyes widening. “Oh my god. Did you see how Rafe reacted?”

The girls immediately nod.

“He was about to explode when he found out.” Alyssa says, shaking her head.

“Man, I wish I saw that.” Cleo groans.

“Wait, wait, we’re getting sidetracked.” Y/N says, holding up a hand. “We should really be talking about your dates.” The girls nod in agreement, the conversation shifting as Maddy and Cleo start recounting their dates with Kelce.

“He was so sweet. Like, actually listening to me, paying attention. It just felt different.” Maddy says, playing with a loose thread on the blanket.

“Ooh, someone’s got a crush!” Alyssa sing-songs and the girls erupt into playful cheers. Maddy rolls her eyes.

“I do not. I just…had a good time, that’s all.” She insists.

“Yeah, okay.” Sarah smirks. “You haven’t looked this excited since we got here. JJ’s never had you smiling like that.”

The girls hum in agreement.

“How are things with JJ, anyway?” Kiara asks, leaning into Alyssa.

“Uh…nice, I guess.” Maddy says, eyes flicking down to her nails.

“Not as nice as with Kelce.” Cleo teases, nudging her. Maddy shakes her head.

“No, no, it’s not like that. JJ’s funny, obviously super hot, but…I don’t know, I don’t think we really get each other.” She pauses, thinking. “Kelce, he just got here, but the vibe with him is…different.”

“Good different?” Y/N prompts.

“Really good different.” Maddy admits, nodding. “But I don’t know. I still need to think about it. And for all I know, he had more chemistry with Cleo.”

“Nope.” Cleo says immediately. Maddy raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? How was your date?” She asks and Cleo sighs.

“It was fun. Kelce is handsome and yeah, he’s got charm, but…” She hesitates. “I don’t know. He came off kinda arrogant? Like, it felt like he was showing off and I hate that.”

The girls exchange looks.

“I mean, I’m not writing him off completely.” Cleo continues. “I just wanna see how he acts in the next few days before I decide.”

They all nod, understanding.

“Do what feels right for you. For both of you.” Y/N adds.

Meanwhile, the guys are grilling Kelce, sizing him up as they try to figure out his intentions in the villa.

“So, Kelce, right?” Rafe leans back against the firepit, arms crossed, exuding confidence as he speaks. His tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s already trying to get a read on him. Kelce nods, offering a relaxed smile, but he knows exactly where this is going.

“Anyone caught your eye? Up till now, at least?” Rafe asks, the question hanging in the air just a second too long. Kelce chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He’s been in enough of these conversations to know what Rafe’s really asking. His eyes flicker toward him, measuring his expression before he answers.

“Look, man, if this is about Y/N, you don’t have to worry. I loved her and I’ll always respect our relationship, but it ended a long time ago. I’m not here to rewrite history or stir anything up. She’s moved on and so have I. Whatever’s going on between you two, that’s got nothing to do with me.” He pauses.

There’s no malice in his voice, no challenge, just honesty. A quiet confidence that says he’s not here to start drama. Whether Rafe believes him, though, is a different story.

“So, if you’re asking whether you should be watching your back, there’s no need to. Not because of me.” Kelce says, his tone even.

Rafe holds his gaze for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied, for now. John B clears his throat, cutting through the tension.

“Alright, but be honest, man. What did you think of the girls? Anyone catch your eye?” He asks, making Kelce chuckle and glance around.

“I mean, they’re all beautiful, no doubt about that.” He says and the guys nod in agreement. “But I had a really great time with Maddy. She’s…man, she’s gorgeous. And funny as hell, too.” His grin widens as he talks about her, the memory of their time together still fresh.

“Cleo’s great, don’t get me wrong.” He continues, his tone shifting slightly. “But something felt a little off during our date. Maybe it was just a bit awkward, I don’t know. Could’ve just been first-date nerves. Time will tell, I guess.”

The boys nod before they decide to show Kelce around the villa.

The night unfolds quickly and soon it’s party time for the islanders. The girls make their way downstairs, glammed up and glowing under the villa lights. As they step into the bedroom where the guys are getting ready, whistles and cheers erupt.

“Damn, looking good, mamas!” Kelce calls out, grinning and the girls laugh, twirling playfully before heading outside.

A table set with champagne flutes awaits them, the warm night air buzzing with energy. They each grab a glass as Topper lifts his in a toast.

“To our newest islander! Hope it’s a good summer for you, Kelso!” He announces, flashing a smirk. Kelce clinks his glass against Topper’s, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Oh, it’s gonna be a great one.” He replies, as the group cheers and takes a sip. Y/N adjusts her dress with her free hand, scanning the scene before her gaze lands on Rafe across the table. Taking a breath, she steps toward him.

“Hey.” She says softly. Rafe looks down at her, his expression unreadable. He nods in acknowledgment but doesn’t say anything.

“Can we talk?” She asks, her brows furrowing slightly. Rafe exhales, noticing the concern in her eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s.” He mutters, placing a hand on her waist as he guides her toward the daybed. They settle beside each other, Y/N’s fingers immediately finding the ring on her hand, twisting it absentmindedly.

“You do know I had no clue he was coming in here, right?” She says, glancing at him. Rafe sighs, rubbing his temples.

“I know. Of course, I know.” His voice is firm but tired. She studies him, hesitating before pressing further.

“Then…can you say something? Tell me how you feel? I just…I don’t know. You’re upset.”

“What do you want me to say?” Rafe snaps, his voice sharper than he intends. “How else am I supposed to feel? Of course, I’m upset.” Y/N exhales slowly, nodding.

“Okay and I get it. But don’t shut me out. You haven’t said a word to me since the terrace.” She drops her gaze, still fidgeting with her ring. Rafe watches her and something tightens in his chest. He runs a hand over his face before sighing.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N.” His voice softens. “I’m not mad at you. Or him. He actually seems like a decent dude. But…” He hesitates, taking a deep breath. “The thought of you and him. It's just…knowing he’s been with you, that he knows you like that…” His jaw clenches. “I know I’m probably overreacting or-or that I shouldn’t feel like this. But I can’t help it.”

“You’re not overreacting.” She assures him, shaking her head. “Jealousy is valid.” Rafe cringes slightly at the word, but it’s true.

“I just…” He exhales, his fingers grazing his knee. “I know it’s still early, but I like you, okay? And the idea of another guy, Kelce, being with you, knowing you in ways I don’t yet…It just…it gets to me. And now that he’s here, I can’t help but worry.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N’s response is immediate, her voice steady. “You have nothing to worry about. Truly.” She turns toward him, her eyes sincere.

“Our relationship ended a long time ago and as much as I loved him and still do, in a way, I can’t let myself go back there. We’ve both moved on. I’m moving on. With you, Rafe.”

Rafe swallows, his gaze flickering to her lips before settling back on her eyes.

“Do you mean that?” He whispers. “I mean…do you want that? Moving on with me?” Y/N’s lips curl into a soft smile and she nods.

“I mean it.” She says simply. And just like that, something in Rafe eases.

Rafe studies her for a long moment, searching for any hesitation, any flicker of doubt in her expression. But there’s none. Just quiet certainty, a promise in the way she looks at him.

He exhales, tension leaving his shoulders as he leans back slightly, resting his arm along the back of the daybed. His fingers ghost over her shoulder, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin.

“That’s…good to hear.” He murmurs, the weight in his chest loosening just a little. Y/N tilts her head, watching him.

“You don’t sound convinced.” She smirks.

“It’s not that.” Rafe says, shaking his head. “It’s just-” He pauses, rubbing his jaw, before glancing back at her. “I didn’t expect to feel this way. It’s not just about Kelce, it’s…fuck, Y/N. I don’t usually care like this.” She lets out a small breath, lips pressing together as she processes his words.

“And that scares you?” She asks softly and Rafe chuckles dryly, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Maybe a little.”

Y/N shifts closer, their knees brushing.

“I get it.” She admits. “But I don’t expect you to have it all figured out right now. I just need you to talk to me. Let me in instead of shutting me out.” Rafe meets her eyes, his fingers finally settling on her shoulder, his touch light but grounding.

“I’ll try.” He admits and Y/N smiles, nudging his knee with hers.

“Good.”

She inches closer, leaning into him. When she looks up, her gaze flickers to his lips.

“Do it.” Rafe whispers, his voice low and she smirks.

“Do what?” She teases, playing innocent. Rafe pinches her side, making her squeal as she presses in even closer.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He murmurs. Y/N giggles before leaning in, her lips brushing his. Rafe cups her face, deepening the kiss as her hand settles against his chest. When they finally pull back, breathless, she smiles up at him. Her eyes catch the shine on his lips and she instinctively reaches up, wiping away the remnants of her lip gloss.

“So, this is our thing now, huh?” She muses, focused on the task. Rafe chuckles.

“Guess so.” He shrugs. “Not that I care about the whole...lip color thingy.”

“Lip gloss.” She corrects with a smirk.

“That.” He scoffs. “You don’t have to wipe it off every time.” She shakes her head.

“It's not a big deal. Honestly, I should probably just stop wearing it around you.” She exclaims.

“Or just get used to me wearing it, too.” He says, grinning. Laughter bubbles between them, easy and warm, as she tucks herself closer into his side.

Later in the evening, JJ gathers all the islanders around the firepit, his energy buzzing like he’s just thought of the best idea ever.

“I think our new guy over here-” He slings an arm around Kelce’s shoulders “-deserves a proper Love Island welcome.” He grins.

“What do you say, guys? You up for a little ‘Never Have I Ever’?” A chorus of agreement follows, champagne gets poured and John B jumps in to explain the rules.

“Okay, so we’ll go around, say a prompt starting with ‘Never have I ever…’ Like, I dunno, ‘Never have I ever hooked up with my best friend’s sister.’ If you have, you take a sip.” Sarah, sitting beside him, turns to him in horror.

“Wait…was that an example or…?” She asks and John B's eyes widen.

“Example! Just an example!” He explains.

“Mm-hmm, sure.” JJ smirks, topping off his glass.

“JJ-” “Let the game begin!” JJ shouts in a dramatic British accent, earning some laughs.

“Topper, you’re up first.” JJ announces. Topper thinks for a second, then shrugs.

“Never have I ever…smoked a joint?” He asks, making JJ groan.

“Lame, Top. Come on.”

“We should start slow, Jayj.” Kiara reasons and the others nod in agreement.

“Fine, fine.” JJ rolls his eyes and takes a big sip anyway. John B, Rafe, Topper, Kelce, Sarah and Kiara follow suit. JJ glances around.

“Wait-you guys haven’t?”

Y/N, Maddy, Cleo, Pope and Alyssa shake their heads.

“You’re joking.” JJ deadpans.

“Not everyone wants to, you know.” Y/N says.

“But it never even crossed your mind? Just to see what it’s like?”

“Not at all.” She replies.

“She says it reeks.” Kelce chimes in, like he knows her better than her own self.

“Because it does!” Y/N exclaims, making the guys chuckle. Rafe, meanwhile, isn’t laughing. His jaw clenches as his gaze lingers on Kelce a beat too long. Y/N notices and without thinking, rests a hand on his thigh. A subtle squeeze, pulling him out of whatever storm was brewing in his head. Maddy clears her throat.

“Can we move on?” She asks.

“Yes, please.” Topper agrees.

“Okay, um…never have I ever gone skinny dipping.” Alyssa asks and drinks from her flute. Most of the islanders take a sip, except for Y/N and Pope. Kelce smirks, turning to Y/N.

“Take a sip.” He nods to the glass on her hand. She blinks.

“But I haven’t.” She replies and Kelce scoffs.

“Julia’s party.” He says making Y/N frown.

“What?”

“The penthouse? The pool? The ‘pretty pink vodka drink’?” He points out and Y/N’s eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.” She exclaims.

“Okay, we need details, like, now.” Sarah claps her hands. Kelce raises a hand dismissively.

“Story for another time.” He nods at Y/N. “Take a sip, Y/N/N.” She does, while Rafe’s jaw visibly tightens, his grip on his glass a little too firm.

“Who’s next?” He asks, clearing his throat. Maddy perks up.

“Me! Okay, never have I ever tried sexting.”

A few people take sips. Kelce meets Y/N’s gaze and smirks before drinking. Y/N stares at the fire as she sips from her glass. Meanwhile, Rafe stares at Kelce. Y/N can practically feel the temperature rising beside her.

“Okay, never have I ever laughed so hard I, um, peed my pants as an adult.” Sarah giggles, before drinking.

Silence.

“And the crowd goes quiet.” JJ says in his British accent. Y/N snorts.

“It’s valid!” She takes a sip, to support Sarah. Rafe tilts his head.

“Wait, seriously?” He asks, in disbelief. She nods.

“It was a hilarious joke, I couldn't help it!” Rafe laughs, wrapping an arm around her.

“I should be disgusted by this.”

“Sorry.” She teases.

“Oh, no, no, don’t be. I’m not. I mean, it’s not, like…hot. But-wait, no, I mean, you’re hot, but-” Y/N chuckles, saving him from himself with a quick peck on the cheek.

“You’re cute when you short-circuit.” She points out.

“Come on, lovebirds! We got a game to finish!” Kelce calls out. Y/N sighs. Rafe sucks his teeth, visibly annoyed, gripping his glass a little too tightly. Y/N notices and without thinking, rests her hand back on his thigh.

“Okay! My turn!” Kiara clears her throat, trying to redirect.

The game continues, with Kelce making a point to throw Y/N knowing looks whenever she hesitates to drink. Every time he sips, he conveniently drops a story from their past, like a breadcrumb trail leading back to him.

Y/N, beyond annoyed, fiddles with a loose thread on her dress, until she’s had enough.

“I got one.” She says, sitting up as everyone leans in. Y/N locks eyes with Kelce. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm.”

The girls, every single one, take a sip. The guys burst into hollers, JJ nearly choking on his drink. Kelce’s smirk finally falters, his ego visibly bruised. He clears his throat.

“I think we should stop for the night.” He suggests

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Maddy exclaims, smirking. The game dissolves as the islanders start pairing off for chats, but Rafe? Rafe’s grinning.

‘Cause that's his girl.

to be continued...

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A/N: hope you enjoyed this!!!

[jupiterpilgrim]

What You Deserve

An Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 13K

Rain pelts the windows of your cramped apartment, a steady gray drizzle that’s been going all afternoon. It’s the kind of weather that makes you want to crawl under a blanket and disappear, and honestly, that’s pretty much what you’ve been doing. You’re sprawled on the couch, still in the same faded hoodie and sweatpants you’ve worn for three days straight, a half-empty bag of Doritos tipped over on the cushion next to you. The TV’s on, some random sci-fi rerun flickering across the screen, but you’re not really watching. Your head’s a mess—has been since the breakup hit you like a truck a week ago. Everything’s fuzzy, like you’re moving through fog, and the ache in your chest hasn’t let up for a second. You keep replaying the last fight, the way she—your ex—stormed out, leaving you feeling like the world’s biggest loser. Again.

The knock at the door jolts you upright, spilling a few stray Doritos onto the floor. You freeze, heart thudding. Who the hell would show up now? You’re not expecting anyone—haven’t even showered since… what, Tuesday? Hesitating, you shuffle over, socks scuffing against the hardwood, and peek through the peephole, then—holy fuck—it’s An Yujin standing there, and your heart does a dumbass somersault right into your throat.

Yujin. Your Yujin—or ex-Yujin, whatever—looking like she just strutted out of some wet dream you’d deny having.

Months—literal months—since you last saw her, and yet here she is, looking like she never left. You fumble with the lock, hands shaky, and crack the door open just enough to see her fully. She’s soaked from the rain, dark hair plastered to her neck, but somehow that only makes her more striking. She’s wearing this oversized black leather jacket, unzipped, over a cropped white tank top that clings to her skin just enough to show off her collarbones and the faintest outline of her bra underneath. Low-rise jeans hug her hips, frayed at the knees, and she’s got these scuffed-up combat boots that somehow tie the whole look together. Casual, yeah, but the kind of casual that screams she knows exactly how good she looks. Water drips from her jacket onto your doormat, and she tilts her head, smirking faintly, like she’s already won something.

“Hey,” she says, voice low and smooth, cutting through the sound of the rain. “Can I come in? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You’re too stunned to argue, stepping back to let her through. She brushes past you, close enough that you catch the scent of rain mixed with whatever expensive perfume she’s still obsessed with. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly your dingy living room feels way too small. She glances around, taking in the mess—empty takeout containers on the coffee table, a stack of unopened comics you’ve been meaning to sort through—and then her eyes land back on you. They’re piercing, like she’s already peeling you apart layer by layer.

“Jesus, you’re a wreck,” she says, but there’s a softness to it, a fake kind of concern that you’re too foggy to clock right away. She shrugs off her jacket, tossing it over the arm of your couch like she still owns the place, and flops down onto the cushions, legs crossed, tank top riding up just enough to show a sliver of her stomach. “Heard about what happened. Mutual friends, you know how it goes. You okay?”

You blink, still standing there like an idiot by the door. Your brain's scrambling to catch up. "Uh... Yes. I mean, no. Not really." Your voice cracks, and you hate it—hate how pathetic you sound. You shuffle over to the couch, sinking into it, hands fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. "It's been... Rough. A week ago. Still kinda blurry."

She nods, leaning forward a little, elbows on her knees. Her eyes don’t leave yours, and it’s unnerving as hell. “I bet. Breakups suck. Especially when it’s someone who didn’t deserve you anyway.” She pauses, letting that sink in, and you feel this weird flicker of warmth, like she’s actually on your side. “What happened? You don’t have to spill everything, just… how you holding up?”

You swallow hard, staring at the floor. The rain’s louder now, drumming against the glass, and it’s easier to focus on that than her face. “I don’t even know. We fought. She left. Said I was too… I dunno, clingy or something. It’s all a mess in my head.” You laugh, but it’s bitter, hollow. “I’m not good at this stuff. Never have been.”

Yujin makes this little sound, like a hum of sympathy, and shifts closer, perching on the edge of the couch now. Her boots scuff the floor, and you can’t help but notice how her jeans stretch tight over her thighs. “That’s rough,” she says, voice dipping softer. “Sounds like she didn’t get you. Like, at all. You’re too sweet for someone who’d pull that crap.” She tilts her head again, hair falling over one shoulder, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she still is, even dripping wet and casual as hell.

You shrug, feeling the weight of everything pressing down harder. “Maybe. I just… I feel like I screwed it up. Like I always do.” Your eyes flick up to hers for a second, then dart away because looking at her too long makes your chest tight in a way you can’t explain.

“Hey, no,” she says, firm but gentle, leaning even closer now. You can feel the heat of her presence, the way she fills up the space between you. “Don’t do that to yourself. You’re not the screw-up here. She didn’t see what she had, that’s on her.” She reaches out, just brushing your knee with her fingers, and it’s like a spark jumps through you. You flinch, but don’t pull away.

You’re quiet for a minute, the room heavy with the sound of rain and your own uneven breathing. She’s watching you, patient but intense, like she’s waiting for you to crack open. And you do, a little. “I’ve just been… sitting here. Feeling like garbage. I don’t know how to shake it.”

Yujin nods, like she gets it completely. “Then don’t shake it alone,” she says, voice dropping again, pulling you in. “You don’t have to. I’m here, right? I showed up because I wanted to see you. Check on you.” She smiles, small but sharp, and it’s like a lifeline tossed into the mess of your head. “Why don’t I stick around? We can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”

You should say no. You know you should. Months ago, she was the one who left you spinning, who made you feel small and needy and not enough. But right now, with the rain and the gloom and the way your whole world feels like it’s caving in, she’s the only thing that looks solid. The only thing that feels like it might hold you up. So you nod, slow and shaky, and mutter, “Yeah. Okay. Stay.”

She leans back, settling into the couch like she never left, and you’re already sinking deeper into something you can’t quite name—but it feels warm, and you’re too tired to fight it.

“Hey,” you say, voice rough from disuse, “you want some hot chocolate or something? It’s crap weather out there. You’re soaked.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, you catch this glint—like she’s surprised you’re offering. Then she grins, slow and lazy, and nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. You still make it the same way?”

“Pretty much,” you mutter, pushing yourself up from the couch. Your legs feel wobbly as you shuffle to the kitchen, heart thudding harder than it should. You can’t wrap your head around it—she’s here. Showed up in the rain, no warning, looking like that. You grab a couple of mugs from the cabinet, the chipped blue one she always used to pick and a random green one for yourself. The kettle’s already half-full, so you flick it on, digging out the cocoa powder and a bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry. You’re moving on autopilot, but your brain’s buzzing—why now? Why her?

She calls out from the living room, voice carrying over the hum of the kettle. “You know, I still can’t believe I walked all the way here in this. Guess I just had to see you for myself.”

You glance back at her, catching her stretching her arms over her head, tank top riding up again. “Yeah, well, I can’t believe it either,” you say. The water boils, and you pour it into the mugs, stirring in the cocoa until it’s smooth. A handful of marshmallows goes into hers—she always liked it loaded—and you carry them back, handing hers over carefully. Your fingers brush hers as she takes it, and you pull back fast, sitting down with your own mug cradled in your hands.

She takes a sip, closing her eyes for a second like she’s savoring it. “God, this takes me back,” she says. “You always made this when I was pissed off or whatever. Like clockwork.” She opens her eyes, locking them on you, and there’s this weight in her gaze that makes you squirm.

You shrug, staring into your mug instead of her. “Yeah, guess some things don’t change.” The steam warms your face, and you take a sip, letting the heat settle into you. It’s quiet again, just the rain and the faint hum of the TV, and you feel this pull—like you need to say something, anything, to fill the space. “So… uh, it’s been rough. With her. The ex, I mean. We fought all the time. Like, nonstop. She’d get mad over the dumbest stuff—me staying up late reading comics, or forgetting to text her back right away. And I’d just… I’d try to fix it, but it was like nothing I did was enough.”

Yujin’s listening, mug resting on her knee, her fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic. She doesn’t interrupt, just nods a little, letting you spill. You keep going, the words tumbling out now that you’ve started. “It got worse toward the end. She’d yell, I’d shut down. One time she threw my Switch across the room ‘cause I was playing Zelda instead of, I dunno, staring at her or something. Broke the screen. Then she’d act like I was the one overreacting when I got upset. It was exhausting.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Yujin says, her tone even but with this edge—like she’s pissed on your behalf. She shifts, sitting up straighter, and takes another sip. “She didn’t get you at all. Throwing your Switch? That’s psycho. You don’t mess with a guy’s games.”

You huff out a laugh, small and shaky. “Yeah, right? I was so done by the end. But it still… it still messed me up. Like, maybe I was the problem. Too clingy, too needy, too… whatever.” You trail off, staring at the marshmallows melting into your hot chocolate, feeling that familiar pit opening up in your gut.

Yujin sets her mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink, leaning forward now, elbows on her knees. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t let her flip this on you. She sounds like she sucked to be around, plain and simple.” Her voice is firm, and when you glance up, her eyes are intense, boring into you. “I heard about her, you know. Mutual friends, like I said. Word is she was never that nice to begin with. Kinda had a rep for being a control freak.”

“You… you knew about her?”

She shrugs, casual, but there’s something sharp in it. “Enough. Heard you were dating again and… I dunno, it bugged me. More than it should’ve.” She pauses, looking away for a second, out at the rain-streaked window, then back at you. “Guess I didn’t like picturing you with someone else. Especially not someone who’d treat you like that.”

Your throat goes dry, and you fumble with your mug, setting it down before you spill it. “I didn’t… I mean, it was quick. After us, I just… I didn’t know what I was doing.” You’re stumbling over your words, and she’s watching you, unblinking, like she’s piecing you together. “Maybe I jumped into it too fast. I’m not good at that stuff—figuring things out on the fly. You know that.”

Her lips twitch, not quite a smile, but close. “Yeah, I know. You’re not exactly Mr. Impulse. Always overthinking everything.” She says it like it’s a fact, not a jab, but there’s this undercurrent—like she’s pointing out something you missed. “But it’s not your fault she was a trainwreck. You don’t have to carry that.”

You lean back in the couch, running a hand through your hair. “I guess. Still feels like I should’ve seen it coming. I’m not… I’m not good at picking people, you know? Always end up with someone who makes me feel like I’m lucky they even bother with me.”

Yujin’s quiet for a beat, then she slides off the couch, moving to sit on the coffee table right in front of you, close enough that her knee bumps yours. She’s all sharp edges and soft glow—wet hair framing her face, tank top clinging just right, eyes locked on you like she’s daring you to look away. “You don’t need to feel lucky,” she says. “You’re better than that. Better than her. And honestly? You were always too good for me to deserve back then, too.”

You freeze, caught in the weight of her words. She’s so close now, and the room feels smaller, the air thicker. “You don’t mean that,” you mutter, half to yourself, but she shakes her head quick.

“I do. And you need to hear it.” She reaches out, just resting her hand on your arm, and it’s like the heat of her skin jolts you awake. “You’re a mess right now, yeah, but you don’t have to be alone with it. I’m here. I came here for you. In the freaking rain, no less.” She laughs a little, soft and real, and it’s the first time tonight you feel something lift—like the fog in your head’s thinning out.

You look at her, really look at her, and she’s stupidly gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that makes your nerdy, self-doubting brain short-circuit. You feel that old pull, the one you could never shake with her, and it’s comforting and terrifying all at once. “Thanks,” you say, quiet, barely audible over the rain. “I… I needed this. More than I thought.”

She smiles, small but warm, and squeezes your arm before letting go. “Anytime. You know I’ve got you.” And the way she says it, the way she’s looking at you, you almost believe it’s that simple—even though deep down, you know nothing with her ever is.

“I missed you,” you say, voice low, almost lost in the sound of the storm. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but now it’s out there, hanging between you like a live wire.

Her eyes flick up to yours, and for a second, she just looks at you—searching, maybe surprised. Then her lips curve into this slow, easy smile, and there they are: those dimples. Two little indents that used to drive you insane, the ones you’d poke with your finger when she’d laugh, just because it was cute and she’d pretend to hate it. They’re back now, and your chest tightens like someone’s squeezed it. “Yeah?” she says, voice soft but teasing, leaning in just a fraction. “You missed me?”

You nod, swallowing hard, because what else can you do? She’s got you pinned with that look, and you’re already sinking. The fabric of the tight tank top hugging her like a second skin. You can see the faint outline of her bra, the way her collarbone catches the light, and your brain stumbles over itself. Your hands twitch, nervous energy spilling out, and you grip the mug tighter to keep them.

She notices—of course she does. Her smile tilts into something sharper, more knowing. “What’s with you?” she asks, tilting her head so her hair falls over one shoulder. “You’re all jumpy now.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Your throat’s dry, and she’s just sitting there, looking like that, and it’s scrambling you. “I—uh. You’re just… you look good,” you manage, lame as hell, but it’s all you’ve got.

She laughs, soft and low, and those dimples deepen. “Thanks. But you’re dodging. What’s going on in that head of yours?” She leans closer, resting her elbows on her knees, and now she’s really in your space—close enough that you can smell the rain on her, mixed with that sharp-sweet perfume she’s always worn.

You hesitate, but she’s got you locked in, and the words spill out again before you can stop them. “I mean it. I really missed you. Like… a lot.” Your voice cracks a little, and you wince, but it’s true, and she can tell.

Her smile softens, less teasing now, more real. “I missed you too,” she says, and it’s quiet, almost like she’s admitting it to herself as much as to you. She sits back a little, crossing her arms under her chest—yeah, that’s not helping your nerves—and looks at you with this steady, unreadable gaze. “Way more than I thought I would. You’re so damn low-profile, you know that? No socials, no updates, nothing. Made it impossible to keep tabs on you.”

“Wait. You… you tried to keep tabs on me?”

She doesn’t even flinch, just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah. Couldn’t help it. You just… disappeared after we split. I’d scroll through your friend’s posts, hoping you’d pop up in the background or something. Pathetic, right?” She laughs again, but it’s self-aware, almost sheepish, and it’s so unlike her usual confidence that you don’t know what to do with it.

“You were stalking me?” you ask, half-joking, but your pulse is racing now. The idea of her—Yujin—digging around for scraps of you after everything… it’s doing something to you, lighting up a part of your brain you’ve tried to keep dark for months.

She smirks, unbothered. “Stalking’s a strong word. Let’s call it… checking in. But yeah, maybe I was a little obsessed. Can you blame me?” She leans forward again, and now her hand’s on your knee, light but deliberate, and your whole body locks up. “You’ve got this way of sticking in my head. Always have.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you’re staring at her hand like it’s burning through your sweatpants. “I… didn’t know that,” you mutter. She’s looking at you like she’s daring you to push, and you’re too weak to resist. “You really thought about me that much?”

“More than I should’ve,” she says, voice dropping lower, and there’s this edge to it—like she’s letting you in on something dangerous. “Kept wondering what you were up to. Who you were with. Kept thinking about how you’d look at me with those big, dumb puppy eyes when I’d push your buttons.” Her fingers flex against your knee, just enough to make you twitch, and she grins. “Like that. Right there.”

You’re flustered now, heat creeping up your neck, and you hate how easily she’s getting to you. “Shut up,” you mumble, but it’s weak, and she knows it. You push anyway, because part of you needs to hear more—needs to feel this wanted. “So what, you were just… lurking? Keeping score?”

She laughs, tilting her head back, and those dimples flash again, killing you all over. “Not lurking. Just… noticing. And yeah, maybe keeping score a little. Wanted to see if you’d crash and burn without me.” She pauses, eyes flicking over your face, and her voice softens. “Didn’t expect to hear you were dating someone else so fast, though. That stung.”

You swallow, caught in the twist of it—guilt and this weird, messed-up thrill. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan it. Just happened.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she says, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—jealousy, maybe, or regret. “Still sucked, though. Finding out you were with her. Kept imagining you doing all the stuff we used to do. Made me wanna claw my eyes out.” She’s grinning when she says it, but it’s tight, like she’s masking something raw.

Your head’s spinning now, and you can’t stop yourself—you keep digging, chasing the high of her words. “So you were, what, jealous? Obsessed enough to hate it?”

She leans in close again, her face inches from yours, and her voice drops to this husky whisper that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah, jealous. Obsessed, maybe. Whatever you wanna call it. I didn’t like sharing you. Still don’t.” Her hand slides up your thigh, just a little, and it’s enough to set your nerves on fire. “You’ve always been mine, you know. Even when you’re not.”

You should pull back. You should laugh it off, call her out, something—but you don’t. You’re hooked, reeled in by the way she’s looking at you, by the way her confession makes you feel like you’re something. “That’s… kinda messed up,” you say, but your voice is shaky, and your body’s betraying you, leaning toward her instead of away.

“Maybe,” she murmurs, and her lips are so close now you can feel her breath on your skin. “But you like it. I can tell.” She pulls back just enough to smirk at you, those dimples mocking you, daring you to deny it. “Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t miss this—me, right here, knowing you’re all I think about sometimes.”

You can’t. She’s got you dead to rights, and you both know it. Your heart’s hammering, and she’s still got her hand on your thigh, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to close the gap. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admit, because it’s true—you’re a mess, and she’s unraveling you stitch by stitch.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, voice soft but commanding. “Just don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.” And she’s right—you do. You’re nervous, flustered, but under it all, you’re wanted, and it’s been so long since you’ve felt that. She’s watching you, waiting, and you’re already too far gone to pull back now.

And then, casual as hell, she slides off the table and swings a leg over yours, settling right onto your lap. Just like that, like it’s nothing.

Your sanity cracks.

She’s warm, solid, her weight pressing down on you in a way that shorts out every rational thought you’ve got left. Her tank top rides up slightly as she adjusts, showing a sliver of skin above her jeans, and you’re trying so hard not to stare, not to lose it completely. Your arms stay glued to the couch, fingers digging into the cushions like that’s gonna keep you grounded. She notices, of course, and her smirk deepens, those dimples flashing like a warning sign.

“God, you’re so tense,” she says, voice low and teasing, leaning forward just enough that her breath brushes your jaw. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle me being this close?” Her hands settle on your shoulders, light but deliberate, and you feel the heat of her palms through your hoodie.

You swallow hard, throat tight. “I… uh…” Words fail you, because yeah, she’s right—you’re barely holding it together. She’s sitting on your lap, talking like it’s normal, and your brain’s frying.

She tilts her head, hair falling over one shoulder, and her tone shifts—still playful, but darker, laced with something raw. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You with her. Some other girl sitting right here—” she presses her hips down a little, just to make her point, and your breath hitches—“where I used to be. Like she could just slide in and take my place. Drove me up the wall.”

You blink up at her, caught off guard by the edge in her voice. “You… you were that jealous?” It’s a dumb question, but you’re too scrambled to care.

Her eyes narrow, and she leans in closer, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Jealous? Try insane. I’d hear stuff—Rei or whoever running their mouth about you two—and I’d picture it. Her on your lap, her hands all over you, her thinking she could have you like I did. Made me wanna track her down and scratch her damn face off.” She laughs, sharp and bitter, but her gaze is steady, pinning you in place. “Stupid, right? But I couldn’t shake it.”

Your mouth’s dry, and you’re just staring at her now, the heat of her body sinking into you, making it impossible to think straight. “She… she didn’t compare,” you mutter, almost to yourself, but it’s loud enough for her to hear. “Not even close. She wasn’t you. Didn’t… do what you do. Didn’t make me feel like this.” Your voice cracks a little, and you hate it, but it’s true—she’s got you surrendered, always has, and no one else ever came close.

Yujin’s smirk softens into something dangerous, something triumphant. “Yeah?” she murmurs, shifting again, pressing herself closer so her chest brushes yours. “What do I do to you, huh? Tell me.” Her hands slide down from your shoulders, resting on your chest now, and you can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips, fast and steady.

You hesitate, your arms still frozen on the couch, but she’s not letting you off that easy. She leans in, lips hovering near your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. “Go ahead. Touch me. You know you want to.”

It’s a mistake—you know it’s a mistake. Once you cross that line, there’s no going back, no pretending this didn’t happen. But your hands move anyway, slow and shaky, lifting from the cushions to settle on her. One lands on her arm, the other on her waist, and the warmth of her skin hits you like a shockwave. She’s soft but firm, the curve of her waist fitting under your palm like it was made for it. Your fingers flex, testing the waters, and she lets out this quiet little hum that sends a jolt straight through you.

“There you go,” she says, voice silky, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, and she’s got that look—like she’s already won. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Been too long since you had your hands on me.”

You nod, barely conscious of it, because yeah, it does. “I missed this,” you admit, quiet and rough, your thumb brushing along the edge of her tank top where it meets her jeans. “Missed you. Your body… you look hotter now. If that’s even possible.”

Her smile lights up, dimples popping again, and it’s like a reward. “You think so?” she asks, voice bright with this twisted kind of joy. She shifts in your lap, deliberate, rolling her hips just enough to make your breath catch. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about you too. How you’d feel under me like this. How much I missed having you fall apart for me.”

Your hands tighten on her instinctively, one sliding up her arm to her shoulder, the other gripping her waist harder. “Yujin…” you start, but it’s weak, and she knows it. She’s got you wrapped around her finger, and you’re not even fighting it anymore.

“What?” she murmurs, leaning in so her lips are barely a inch from yours, her breath hot against your skin. “You gonna tell me to stop? Or you gonna admit you’re still mine?” Her fingers trail down your chest, slow and teasing, and your resolve crumbles a little more with every inch.

“I… I shouldn’t,” you say, but it’s half-hearted, and your hands are already moving again, tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her top. “This is a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, but her voice is dripping with confidence, and she’s closing the gap, her nose brushing yours. “But you’re not gonna stop me, are you? You missed me too much. Missed this.” She presses herself closer, thighs tightening around your hips, and you feel every bit of her—warm, alive, overwhelming.

“Yeah,” you breathe, giving in, your hands sliding down to her hips now, pulling her against you like you can’t help it. “I did. Missed you. All of you.”

She sighs, but it’s not soft—it’s resigned, almost dramatic, like she’s wrestling with something inside her. “God, you mess me up so bad,” she says, shaking her head, but she’s smiling again, dimples flashing as she cups your face with one hand. “I’m out here losing my mind over you, and you’re just… sitting there, letting me. You’re the worst, you know that?”

You laugh, small and shaky, because it’s all you’ve got left. “You’re the one who climbed into my lap,” you point out, your hands roaming now, one slipping under the hem of her tank top to feel the bare skin of her lower back. “Kinda hard to ignore you.”

“Good,” she says, and her voice drops again, husky and intent. “I don’t want you to ignore me. I want you to think about me. All the time. Like I think about you.” She shifts again, grinding down just enough to make your head spin, and her lips are so close now you can taste the hot chocolate on her breath. “Tell me you still want me. Say it.”

Your hands are all over her now—one on her back, the other gripping her thigh—and you’re done pretending you’ve got any control here. “I want you,” you say, low and rough, and it’s like letting go of a weight you didn’t know you were carrying. “Always have. You know that.”

Her eyes flash, victorious, and she leans in, finally pressing her lips to yours—just a graze at first, testing you. But you’re already gone, pulling her in harder, kissing her like you’ve been starving for it. She tastes sweet, like cocoa and something sharper, and she kisses back like she’s claiming you all over again. When she pulls away, she’s breathless, grinning, those dimples mocking you as she whispers, “See? Told you you’re still mine.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. She’s got you—hook, line, and sinker.

The rain’s still pounding outside, a steady roar that fills the room, but all you can focus on is Yujin. She’s got you pinned—figuratively, literally—straddling your lap like she owns you, and honestly, she might as well. Her hand shoots up, grabbing your cheeks with one firm grip, squeezing just enough to make your lips pucker slightly. Her eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unyielding, and it’s like she’s staring straight through you, peeling back every layer you’ve tried to build up since she’s been gone.

“Say it,” she demands, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Say you belong to me.”

You’re already a mess—heart racing, breath shallow, her weight pressing into you like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered. Your hands are still on her thighs, fingers digging into the denim, and you can feel the heat of her through it, steady and real. “I belong to you,” you say, the words spilling out fast, rough, like they’ve been waiting there all along.

Her grip tightens for a second, then loosens, and she tilts her head, studying you. “Good. Now tell me—who do you belong to?”

“You,” you answer, no hesitation this time, your voice steadier even though your pulse is hammering in your ears. “I belong to you, Yujin.”

She smirks, satisfied, and there’s this glint in her eyes—like she’s won some game you didn’t even know you were playing. “That’s right,” she says, leaning in closer, her breath hot against your lips. “And no other girl—no one—better come near you again. ‘Cause I don’t know what I’d do. To her... To you.” Her voice drops, and it sends a shiver down your spine—not from fear, but from how much it gets to you.

“It won’t happen,” you mutter, hands flexing against her thighs, squeezing harder like you’re trying to prove it. “Not again. Promise.”

Her smirk softens into something almost sweet, and she closes the gap, kissing you hard and sudden. It’s not gentle—her lips crash into yours like she’s staking a claim, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a split second before she pulls back, just enough to breathe. It’s a reward, yeah, but it’s also a reminder: she’s in charge. Always has been. Your head’s spinning, but you lean into it, chasing the taste of her—cocoa and that sharp edge that’s all Yujin.

“This is for your own good, you know.” Another kiss, quick and firm, then she pulls back to look at you, her hand still holding your face like you’re something precious she’s molding. “I’m the only one who gets you. The only one who knows how to deal with you—how to take care of you.” Her voice is soft now, almost hypnotic, weaving around the sound of the rain. “No one else understands you like I do. You need me.”

You nod, dazed, because she’s right—you do need her. You’ve been a wreck without her, and now she’s here, filling up every empty space like she never left. Her body’s pressed against you, warm and insistent, and you’re hyper-aware of every point of contact. Your hands slide up her thighs, slow and tentative, and you can feel the muscle under the denim, the way she shifts under your touch. She’s solid, grounding, and it’s driving you insane.

She feels it too—your dick’s already hard, straining against your sweatpants, and there’s no hiding it. Her hips shift, just a little, and she smirks again, that knowing look that always unravels you. “Look at you,” she says. “Already falling apart just from this. You’re so easy.”

You groan, low in your throat, embarrassed but also with desire. Your hands grip her tighter, pulling her closer, and she lets you, settling fully against you now. Her hand slides up, fingers brushing over your jaw, then tracing down the side of your face, slow and deliberate. “You’re such a mess without me,” she murmurs, almost to herself, and her eyes are dark, drinking you in. “My little boy. Mommy’s boy.”

The word makes you shiver—mommy. You used to call her that, half-joking but not really, because she’d always take care of you, always know exactly what you needed. Hearing it now, from her lips, in that low, commanding tone—it’s like a switch flips. Your whole body reacts, a jolt running through you, and she clocks it immediately, her smirk widening.

“Yeah,” she says, dragging the word out, her hand resting on your cheek now, thumb brushing your lips. “Mommy’s boy needs some affection, huh? Some care. Look at you—just sitting there, all needy and lost without me.” She shifts again, grinding down subtly, and you can’t hold back the sound that slips out, a quiet, desperate little noise that makes her chuckle.

“Please,” you mutter, barely audible, and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for—just her, all of her, whatever she’ll give you. Your hands are everywhere now, roaming up her thighs to her hips, fingers digging in like you’re afraid she’ll disappear again.

She leans in, kissing you again, slower this time, savoring it. Her lips move against yours like she’s memorizing you, tongue slipping past just enough to make your head spin before she pulls back. “I’ve got you,” she whispers, forehead resting against yours for a second, her breath mingling with yours. “Always have. No one else can do this—make you feel like this. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you forget it again.”

You nod, helpless under her, and she slides her hand down your chest, slow and teasing, resting it just above your waistband. She doesn’t move further, just lets it linger there, and it’s enough to make you twitch, your dick throbbing under her weight. “See?” she says, voice smug but soft. “No one else gets you like this. All wound up, practically begging just from me talking to you. You missed your mommy, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice rough, hands squeezing her thighs again, desperate for more but too wrecked to push for it. “Missed you so much. Just… need you.”

Her smile’s all victory now, dimples flashing as she kisses you again, quick and firm, then pulls back to look at you. “Good boy,” she murmurs, patting your cheek lightly, and it’s condescending as hell but it lights you up anyway. “Mommy’s here now. Gonna take care of you, give you everything you’ve been missing.” She rocks her hips again, just enough to drive you crazy, and her hand slides back up to your face, holding you there so you can’t look away. “You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

And you believe her—because right now, with her on top of you, her voice in your ear, her touch burning through you, it’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted.

You lean in and press your lips to her neck. It’s instinct—your mouth finds that spot just below her jaw, soft and warm, and you kiss it slow, dragging your lips against her skin. She tastes like rain and that sharp-sweet perfume, and it’s intoxicating, pulling you in deeper. Your hand starts moving, sliding down her side, fingers digging into the curve of her waist. She’s thicker now, softer in this way that makes your gut tighten, and you squeeze, feeling the give of her flesh under your grip.

She sighs, soft and airy, tilting her head back to give you more room, and it’s like she’s melting into you. “Fuck,” she mutters, voice low, her hands resting on your shoulders for balance. “You’re too good at that.” Her tank top’s tight, stretched over her chest, but it’s not enough—you need more of her. Your fingers tug at the hem, and she gets the hint, shifting back just enough to peel it off in one smooth motion. It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten, and now she’s sitting there in just her bra, black and simple, hugging her curves like it’s doing you a favor.

Your eyes drop, and you can’t help it—you’re staring. She notices, smirking as she grabs your hand, guiding it to her tummy. Her skin’s warm, smooth under your palm, and she presses your fingers into it, letting you feel her. “Been a while, huh?” she murmurs, voice teasing but heavy with something else. “Missed this?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, your hand sliding up slow, tracing the dip of her stomach, the way it curves into her ribs. She moves your hand higher, deliberate, until it’s resting over her bra, cupping her breast. They’re medium, soft, spilling slightly over your palm as you squeeze, and she lets out this little sound—half sigh, half moan—that hits you right in the gut.

“Got a surprise for you,” she says, leaning in close, her lips brushing your ear. “Wanna see?” Her tone’s playful, but there’s a challenge in it, like she’s testing how far you’ll go.

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah. Show me.”

Her smile’s all teeth, wicked and bright, and she reaches back, fingers deft as she unhooks her bra. It’s slow, deliberate—she slides the straps down her shoulders one by one, letting the fabric fall away like she’s unwrapping something precious. When it drops, you freeze, swallowing hard. Her breasts spill free, and there they are—nipple piercings. Small silver bars glinting under the dim light, cutting through the soft pink of her nipples. Your breath catches, and your dick twitches in your sweats, already straining against the fabric.

“Like ‘em?” she asks, voice husky, watching your face like she’s feeding off your reaction.

“Fuck yeah,” you say, raw and honest, eyes locked on her. “They’re perfect.” They’re bold, unexpected, and so her—a little wild, a little dangerous, and you’re losing your mind over it.

She leans back slightly, letting you take it all in, and her voice drops lower. “They’re sensitive as hell now. Took a while to get used to, but… worth it.” She’s smirking again, daring you, and your hand’s already moving, brushing over one breast, thumb grazing the piercing. The metal’s cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her, and she gasps, sharp and sudden, her body arching into your touch.

“Shit,” she mutters, biting her lip, and you can see it—how sensitive they really are. Her nipple hardens under your fingers, and you roll the bar gently, testing it. She sighs again, louder this time, her hands gripping your shoulders tighter. “You’re gonna kill me with that,” she says, but she’s grinning, eyes half-closed, loving every second.

You hesitate, hand still on her, and glance up. “Can I… suck them?” It’s polite, almost awkward, because you’re so wound up you can barely think straight, but you need to ask.

She laughs, soft and real, tilting her head like she’s charmed by it. “God, you’re cute. Yeah, of course you can. Go for it.” She shifts closer, practically offering herself up, and you don’t waste time.

You lean in, lips brushing her skin first, just below her breast, tasting the faint salt of her. Then you move higher, closing your mouth over her nipple, the piercing cool and hard against your tongue. You suck, slow and careful at first, feeling the way she reacts—her body tensing, a quiet moan slipping out. The metal rolls in your mouth, smooth and strange, and you flick your tongue over it, testing. She groans, low and ragged, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she breathes, voice rougher now, her hips shifting in your lap. You can feel her pressing against you, the heat of her through her jeans, and your dick’s throbbing, trapped under her weight. Your hand’s still squeezing her other breast, thumb teasing the piercing there, and she’s squirming, every sound she makes driving you further into this haze.

You pull back for a second, just to look—her nipple’s wet from your mouth, the piercing glinting, and she’s flushed, chest heaving. “So sensitive,” you mutter, almost to yourself, and she nods, biting her lip again.

“Told you,” she says, breathless, her hand sliding down your chest now, teasing the edge of your hoodie. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” It’s not a request—it’s a order, and you’re too far gone to do anything but obey.

You dive back in, sucking harder this time, letting your teeth graze the bar just enough to make her hiss. Your hand’s roaming now, sliding down her side, squeezing her thicker hips, her ass, anything you can reach. She’s solid and soft all at once, and it’s messing with you, how much you’ve missed this—missed her. Every sigh, every little twitch of her body, it’s like she’s pulling you apart piece by piece, and you’re letting her.

“Fuck, babe,” she breathes, voice ragged, her fingers tangled tight in your hair. “You’re so good at that—shit, don’t stop.” The pet name hits you like a spark, lighting you up, and you groan against her skin, pressing your face closer, hungry for more of her. She’s warm, soft, the faint taste of her skin driving you wild, and you flick your tongue over the piercing again, slow and deliberate, just to hear her gasp.

“Yeah, like that,” she murmurs, her head tipping back, eyes half-shut. “God, you’re such a sweet boy, huh? My sweet little babe, driving me crazy.” Her words drip with that mix of affection and control she’s always had over you. You switch to her other breast, mouth closing over it, sucking hard, and she moans, louder this time, her hips rocking against you. “You’re starving for me, aren’t you?” she says, smirking through it, her voice all husky and teasing. “Can feel how much you want this.”

You pull back just long enough to mutter, “Fuck yeah, I am,” voice rough, desperate, before diving back in. Your tongue circles her nipple, teasing the piercing, and she’s squirming now, thighs tightening around your hips. Your hands are everywhere—gripping her waist, sliding up her back, squeezing her breasts—because you can’t get enough. She’s thicker, curvier than you remember, and it’s got you ravenous, every touch feeding this ache that’s been building since she walked through the door.

“Missed my body this much, huh, honey?” she asks, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her breath hot and uneven. “Can’t keep your hands off me.” She shifts, grinding down harder, and you groan into her skin, your dick twitching painfully in your sweats. You’re so hard it’s borderline unbearable, trapped under her weight, and she knows it—fuck, she loves it.

“Yeah,” you rasp, pulling back to catch her eye, your mouth wet from her skin. “Missed you. Missed this. You’re fucking unreal.” Your hand slides down, cupping her ass through her jeans, and you squeeze, pulling her closer. She sighs, pleased, and runs her fingers through your hair, tugging just enough to make you look up at her.

“Look at you, my needy little babe,” she says, grinning, those dimples flashing as she watches you unravel. “All worked up just from sucking on me. You’re too cute.” She leans in, kissing you messy and deep, her tongue sliding against yours, and you’re drowning in it—her taste, her heat, the way she’s owning you without even trying.

You’re panting when she pulls back, and she’s flushed now, chest heaving, her pierced nipples glistening from your mouth. “Shit,” you mutter, staring, and she laughs, soft and smug, like she’s got you exactly where she wants you. Your hands are still on her, roaming, and your dick’s screaming for relief, pressed tight against her. She feels it—has to—and her smirk turns wicked.

“Poor thing,” she coos, shifting back just enough to slide off your lap, slow and deliberate. “You’re rock-hard, aren’t you? Been dying for me this whole time.” She stands in front of you, close enough that her knees brush yours, and you’re staring up at her, chest tight, hands flexing on the couch cushions because you don’t trust yourself to touch her without losing it.

“Yeah,” you admit, voice hoarse, eyes locked on her. “Can’t help it. You’re… fuck, Yujin, you’re killing me.”

“Good,” she says, and there’s that edge again—possessive, commanding. She reaches down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats, and your breath catches as she tugs, slow and teasing. “Let’s see how bad you’ve got it. Lift up for me, babe.” You do, no hesitation, raising your hips so she can pull them down, taking your underwear with them in one smooth motion. They hit the floor, and you’re bare under her gaze, dick hard and aching, precum already beading at the tip.

She steps back, just a little, eyes raking over you, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “Damn,” she mutters, almost to herself, then looks back up at you with a grin. “Look at you, all ready for me. My sweet boy’s been holding out, huh?” Her voice is dripping with mock sympathy, but you hear the hunger in it, and it makes your head spin.

“Only for you,” you say, raw and honest, and her smile softens, just for a second, before that wicked edge creeps back in. She drops to her knees in front of you, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flips as she settles between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.

“Gonna take care of you,” she murmurs, leaning in, her breath ghosting over your skin. “My needy little babe deserves it.” And you’re gone, completely, because she’s got you—every inch, every thought, every desperate fucking heartbeat.

The rain’s still drumming outside, but it’s nothing compared to the pulse pounding in your ears. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin, and you tense, every muscle coiled tight, waiting for her to make her move.

“Fuck, babe, look at you,” she says, her eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before dropping back down to your cock. “This thing’s as big as I remember. Thick too—goddamn perfect.” She licks her lips, slow and deliberate, and you feel it like a jolt, your hips twitching involuntarily. She notices, and her smirk widens. “Missed me that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice scraped raw, hands gripping the couch cushions because if you don’t hold onto something, you’re gonna grab her and fuck her mouth yourself. “Missed your mouth on me. Been too fucking long.”

She hums, pleased, and her fingers finally wrap around you—loose at first, just sliding up the length of your shaft, her thumb brushing the tip where you’re already leaking. “Missed this too,” she says, almost to herself, her grip tightening as she gives you a slow, teasing stroke. “Love how you feel in my hand. So heavy. Bet you’ve been dying for me to suck you off.”

“Fuck yeah,” you groan, head tipping back against the couch for a second before you force it forward again—you’re not missing a damn thing. “Please, Yujin. Need it.”

She chuckles, low and dirty, and leans in, her lips brushing the head of your cock, just enough to smear the precum across them. “So polite when you’re desperate,” she teases, then sticks her tongue out, flattening it against the tip, licking slow and filthy. Your whole body jerks, a curse slipping out under your breath, and she grins like she’s won something. “Tastes good,” she murmurs, then drags her tongue down the side, tracing a vein, taking her sweet time.

You’re shaking now, barely holding it together, and she knows it—loves it. “Shit, Yujin, stop fucking around,” you grit out, voice tight, hips shifting toward her mouth. “Suck it already.”

“Bossy,” she mutters, but she’s still smiling, those dimples flashing as she opens her mouth and finally—finally—takes you in. Her lips wrap around the head, tight and wet, and she slides down slow, sucking just enough to make your head spin. You groan loud, guttural, your hands flexing on the couch because you want to grab her hair, shove her down further, but you let her set the pace.

“Fuck,” you hiss, watching her—her cheeks hollow out as she pulls back, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, then she sinks down again, deeper this time, taking half of you. Her tongue’s working the whole time, swirling around the tip when she pulls up, pressing flat against you when she goes down. She’s so fucking good at this—always has been—and you’ve missed it like hell, the way she makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Mmm,” she hums against you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine, and your dick twitches in her mouth. She feels it, pulls off just enough to talk, her hand stroking you slow and slick. “God, I love this cock,” she says, voice raw, eyes locked on yours as she drags her tongue up the underside, sloppy and shameless. “So fucking big, fills my mouth just right.” She dives back in, sucking harder now, her head bobbing slow and steady, and you’re unraveling, piece by piece.

“Shit, babe,” you groan, head tipping back again, but you can’t take your eyes off her for long—watching her lips stretch around you, her tongue flicking every time she pulls up. “You’re so fucking good—missed this so much.” Your hips buck a little, chasing her mouth, and she moans around you, the sound filthy and perfect.

She pulls off with a wet pop, spit trailing from her mouth to your cock, and she grins, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah? Missed me sucking you off? Bet no one else comes close, huh?” Her hand keeps moving, jerking you slow and tight, and you shake your head, breathless.

“No one,” you pant, “not even fucking close. You’re… fuck, you’re everything.”

Her eyes light up at that, all smug and satisfied, and she leans down again, kissing the tip like it’s a tease before taking you back in. This time she goes deeper, throat relaxing as she slides down, down, until her nose is damn near brushing your pelvis. You curse loud, hips jerking up, and she takes it—lets you hit the back of her throat, gagging just a little before pulling back, eyes watering but still grinning.

“Goddamn, Yujin,” you rasp, hands finally giving in, sliding into her hair, not pushing, just holding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She pulls off again, gasping a little, spit dripping down her chin, and her hand’s still working you, slick and fast now. “Good,” she says, voice wrecked, “then you’ll die happy, babe.” She dives back in, sucking hard and sloppy, her tongue all over you, and you’re barely holding it together, and she knows it, feeding off the way you’re falling apart under her touch. Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, sliding her mouth lower, and your brain short-circuits when you realize where she’s going.

“Fuck, Yujin—” you start, but it cuts off into a groan as her lips brush your balls, heavy and tight, aching from how worked up she’s got you. She doesn’t hesitate—just dives in, sucking one into her mouth, warm and wet, her tongue rolling over it like she’s savoring every second. Her hand’s still wrapped around your cock, stroking you steady and firm, and the combo’s fucking lethal. Your hips jerk up, involuntary, and you feel her moan against you, the vibration hitting you like a shockwave.

“Goddamn, babe,” she murmurs, pulling back just enough to talk, her voice muffled against your skin. “These are so full—been saving up for me, huh?” She switches to the other one, sucking harder now, her tongue flicking and teasing, and you’re losing it, hands gripping the couch cushions so tight your knuckles are white.

“Mommy,” you groan, the word slipping out before you can stop it, raw and desperate, and she freezes for a split second, like it’s flipped a switch in her. Then she pulls off your balls with a wet pop, eyes snapping up to yours, dark and hungry.

“Fuck, say that again,” she demands, her hand pumping your cock faster now, slick with spit and precum. “Call me that again, babe.”

“Mommy,” you mutter, voice wrecked, and she moans, low and filthy, like it’s the hottest thing she’s ever heard. She leans back in, sucking your balls again, her tongue working them over with this skillful precision that’s got you shaking. She’s relentless—alternating between them, pulling one into her mouth, then the other, her lips stretching around you, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks. All the while, her hand’s jerking you off, tight and steady, and you’re a mess of moans and curses, barely able to think straight.

“Shit—fuck, mommy, you’re so good,” you pant, head tipping back, your whole body tensing as she works you over. Her free hand slides up your thigh, squeezing, nails digging in just enough to sting, and it’s like she’s claiming every inch of you—mouth on your balls, hand on your cock, owning you completely.

She pulls back again, letting your balls slip out of her mouth, wet and messy, a string of spit connecting her lips to you before it snaps. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, grinning like a goddamn demon. “Taste so fucking good,” she says, voice rough, her eyes locked on yours as she gives your cock a slow, teasing stroke. “Been dreaming about this—getting my mouth on you again. You’re a fucking wreck for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, chest heaving, dick twitching in her grip. “Can’t—fuck, can’t get enough of you.” Your hands slide into her hair now, shaky and desperate, but you don’t push—she’s in control, and you both know it.

She hums, satisfied, and gives your balls one last lick—long and slow, dragging her tongue up from the base to the tip of your cock like she’s savoring you. You shudder, a loud “shit” slipping out, and she chuckles, dark and smug, before climbing to her feet. You’re panting, flushed and sweaty, dick glistening from her spit, and she’s standing there like she’s just getting started.

“C’mon,” she says, voice low and commanding, holding out her hand. “Bedroom. Now. We’re done messing around on this couch—I wanna really fuck you up.” Her eyes flick over you, taking in how wrecked you already are, and her smirk turns sharp, dangerous. “Gonna have some real fun with you, babe.”

You’re on your feet before you even realize it, grabbing her hand, letting her pull you up. Your legs feel like jelly, dick still painfully hard, swinging free as you stumble after her. “Fuck, Yujin,” you mutter, half-dazed, watching her hips sway as she leads you down the hall, jeans hugging her ass just right. “You’re really killing me.”

“Good,” she throws back over her shoulder, not even turning around. “That’s the plan. You’re mine tonight—gonna make sure you don’t forget it.” She pushes open the bedroom door and tugs you inside, kicking the door shut behind you, and turns to face you, eyes glinting with something wild.

“Get on the bed,” she says, and it’s not a request—it’s a order. Your heart’s pounding, dick throbbing, and you’re so hungry for her you can taste it, feel it in every shaky breath. You’re fucked, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, still buzzing from her mouth on you, when Yujin steps back, hands on her hips, eyes locked on yours like she’s about to put on a damn show. The room’s dim, just the faint glow from the streetlights slipping through the blinds, but it’s enough to watch her every move. She kicks off her boots first, casual and quick, then her hands go to the button of her jeans. You’re mesmerized, can’t look away as she pops it open, sliding the zipper down slow—teasing, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as she peels the jeans off, inch by inch, the denim hugging her hips before dropping down her legs. She steps out of them, kicking them aside, and there she is—just in her panties, black and simple but barely holding back what’s underneath. Her thighs catch your eye first—thick, juicy, the kind of curves you want to sink your teeth into. They flex slightly as she shifts her weight, and your dick twitches, already rock-hard from the sight alone.

She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, smirking when she catches you staring. “You like?” she asks, voice low and cocky, dragging them down slow, letting the fabric roll over her hips, then her thighs, until they hit the floor. And fuck—there’s her pussy, glistening in the low light, already wet like she’s been thinking about this as much as you have. She’s got this neat little patch of hair, lightly trimmed, a perfect pattern that draws your eye right to her, and you’re practically drooling.

She steps closer, slow and deliberate, hips swaying just enough to fuck with your head. You’re still sitting there, hands twitching, when she stops right in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off her. Your hands move on instinct, sliding up to her waist, gripping her soft skin, and you pull her in, pressing your lips to her tummy. It’s warm, smooth, and you kiss it slow, dragging your mouth over her, tasting her faintly—salt and that addictive edge that’s all her.

“Mm, good boy,” she murmurs, voice dripping with that dom energy she wears like a second skin. Her hand slides into your hair, stroking it, fingers curling just enough to tug lightly. “You’re already so fucking gone for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you breathe against her skin, voice rough, trailing more kisses down her stomach, slow and hungry. You’re standing now, can’t stay still anymore, your hands roaming up her sides as your lips move lower, chasing that scent—that fucking pull—drawing you in like a drug. You pause just above her pussy, nose brushing the trimmed hair, and inhale deep. It’s musky, sweet, so goddamn addictive you feel lightheaded. “Fuck, I missed this,” you groan, almost to yourself, your mouth watering. “Missed you.”

She laughs, low and smug, her hand tightening in your hair. “Yeah? Then stop teasing and eat my pussy, babe. Show me how much you missed it.” It’s a command, sharp and final, and it’s all you need to hear.

You drop to your knees, hands sliding down to grip her thighs—thick and solid under your palms—and pull her closer. She spreads her legs a little, giving you room, and you dive in, no hesitation. Your tongue drags up her slit first, slow and deliberate, tasting her—wet and slick, already dripping for you. She’s tangy, hot, and you groan against her, the sound vibrating through her as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she hisses, her hand shoving your face tighter against her. “Right there—don’t you dare stop.” Her hips roll forward, grinding against your mouth, and you’re all in now, licking and sucking like you’re starving. You swirl your tongue around her clit, teasing it, then suck it hard, letting your teeth graze just enough to make her gasp. Her thighs tremble under your hands, and you squeeze them, pulling her closer, burying yourself in her.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at this,” she pants, voice breaking a little, her dom edge slipping as she starts to unravel. “Missed that mouth—shit, babe, keep going.” Her hips buck harder, and you’re drowning in her—her taste, her heat, the way she’s soaking your chin. You slide a hand up, fingers brushing her entrance, but you don’t push in yet—just tease, letting her feel it.

She moans loud, shameless, her grip in your hair turning rough. “Fuck, don’t play with me—eat me like you mean it.” You do—tongue plunging deeper, licking up every drop, sucking her clit until she’s shaking. Her pussy’s pulsing, slick and swollen, and you’re obsessed—drinking her in, feeling her thighs clamp around your head. “Yeah, just like that—my good fucking boy,” she growls, and it hits you right in the chest, fueling this desperate need to please her.

You pull back for a second, gasping for air, lips and chin dripping. “You taste so fucking good,” you mutter, raw and wrecked, diving back in before she can even respond. You’re licking harder now, sloppier, tongue everywhere—her clit, her lips, dipping inside just to feel her clench. She’s cursing, moaning, starting to ride your face, and you let her, hands gripping her ass now, guiding her as she bucks against you.

Your tongue’s working overtime, lapping up every bit of her, and she’s so fucking wet it’s obscene—her juices coating your lips, your chin, sliding down your neck. You groan into her, the sound muffled against her skin, and it’s like you’re drunk on her, hunger spiking with every taste.

“Fuck, babe, you’re killing me,” she mutters, voice rough and shaky, but she’s not pulling away—she’s leaning into it, giving you more. She shifts, lifting one leg and planting her foot on the bed, spreading herself wide open. Her pussy’s glistening, creamy now, this thick, delicious slick starting to leak out, and it’s driving you wild. You can see it—white and sticky, clinging to her folds—and you dive in deeper, tongue plunging inside her, chasing it like it’s your fucking lifeline.

“Shit—oh my god,” she gasps, her hand tightening in your hair, shoving your face harder against her. “Yeah, just like that—get in there, fuck.” Her hips roll, grinding against your mouth, and you’re surrounded by her—her heat, her scent, that addictive cream coating your tongue as you dig it in, scooping it out. It’s filthy, messy, and you’re loving every second, sucking hard, letting it smear across your lips as you tongue-fuck her with everything you’ve got.

She’s melting, you can feel it—her thighs trembling, her breath hitching in these sharp little bursts. “You’re so fucking hungry for me,” she moans, half-laughing, half-wrecked, her leg wobbling on the bed as she opens up even more. “Can’t get enough of my pussy, huh? Look at you, drowning in it.” You groan again, louder, pressing your face so deep into her you can barely breathe, licking up that creamy slick like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted—because it is.

You squeeze her ass harder, pulling her closer, fingers sinking into her thick flesh as you keep going, relentless. Her pussy’s pulsing around your tongue, soaking you, and you’re a fucking mess—face shiny, lips swollen, chin drenched. You slide your tongue out, dragging it up to her clit, sucking it hard, then dipping back down to thrust inside her again, catching more of that cream. It’s coating your mouth now, sticky and sweet, and you’re growling against her, primal, desperate, completely lost in her.

“Fuck, don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop,” she pants, voice breaking, her hips bucking harder, practically riding your face. “You’re gonna make me—shit—” She cuts off, moaning loud, her whole body tensing, and you double down, tongue plunging deep, sucking her inner walls, nose grinding against her clit. Her pussy’s so creamy now it’s spilling out, dripping down your chin, and you’re licking it up, swallowing it, starving for every drop.

She’s shaking hard, leg slipping a little on the bed, but you hold her steady, keeping her open as you push her over the edge. “C’mon, mommy, cum for me,” you mumble into her, voice muffled, needy, and that’s it—she snaps. Her hips jerk, a loud, ragged “Fuck!” ripping out of her as she cums, hard and messy. Her pussy clenches around your tongue, flooding you with more of that thick cream, and you’re drinking it, lapping it up through her shakes, her gasps, her nails digging into your scalp. She’s trembling, falling apart, and you don’t stop—sucking, licking, letting her ride it out until she’s boneless, breathless.

You finally pull back, face drenched—her juices glistening on your mouth, your chin, even your nose. You’re a fucking sight, shiny and wrecked, and she looks down at you, chest heaving, eyes dark and satisfied. She grabs your face, rough but slow, and leans in, tongue darting out to lick across your lips, then your chin, tasting herself on you. It’s filthy, hot, and you just sit there, dazed, letting her do it.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” she murmurs, voice low and raw, dragging her tongue up one last time before kissing you hard, sloppy, her taste all over both of you. She pulls back, smirking, wiping her thumb across your wet mouth. “Such a good boy for me—look at you, all shiny and fucked out from eating my pussy. Did so good, babe.”

You grin, still catching your breath, hands still on her thighs, feeling the heat of her skin. “Anything for you,” you say, and her smirk softens just a little, that dom edge giving way to something softer, something proud. She ruffles your hair, still panting, and you’re sitting there, heart hammering, completely fucking gone for her.

She stands up, all curves and confidence, and nods toward the bed. “C’mon, babe,” she says, voice low and commanding, like she’s summoning you. “Get over here. Time to give you what you deserve.”

Your legs feel like rubber, but you’re up fast, stumbling after her like a fucking puppy, too wrecked to play it cool. She’s already climbing onto the bed, and you follow, heart pounding, dick still hard and aching from everything she’s already done to you. She turns, lying back against the pillows, then pats the spot beneath her, eyes glinting with that dom energy that’s got you hooked. “Lie down,” she orders, and you do—no hesitation, flat on your back, staring up at her like she’s a goddamn goddess.

She swings a leg over you, straddling your chest first, and fuck, the view—her thighs framing your face, her pussy still glistening, her pierced nipples catching the light. She slides down slow, deliberate, until she’s hovering over you, her weight pressing you into the mattress. “This is how it should be,” she says, voice dropping, dark and possessive. “You under me, obeying me, worshiping me like the good boy you are. That’s what you want, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, hands twitching at your sides, dying to touch her. “Fuck yeah, Yujin. Always.” Your voice is shaky, raw, and she smirks, loving how gone you are—how you’re hers without even trying.

“Go ahead then,” she murmurs, leaning down so her lips brush your ear, her hair tickling your face. “Touch me. Show me how much you’ve missed this.” Your hands move fast, sliding up her thighs, feeling the thick, warm muscle under your palms, then higher, over her hips, her waist, that soft tummy you kissed earlier. She’s solid and real, every inch of her screaming power, and you’re just… lost in it, fingers roaming like you’re trying to memorize her all over again.

She shifts, grabbing your cock with one hand—firm, no bullshit—and you groan, hips jerking up at the contact. “Easy,” she warns, smirking down at you as she lines you up, the tip brushing her pussy, wet and hot and so fucking close. “You’re gonna take what I give you, yeah? No rushing me.”

“Yes, mommy,” you mutter, half-dazed, and her eyes flash, that word lighting her up. She sinks down then, slow and deliberate, and you both sigh—her pussy’s tight, slick, swallowing you inch by inch like it’s meant to. You’re stretching her out, and she’s gripping you so good it’s like she’s pulling you apart. “Fuck,” you gasp, hands clutching her hips now, digging in, and she moans, low and sweet, settling all the way down until you’re buried deep.

“Goddamn, you’re big,” she mutters, almost to herself, adjusting her hips a little, and you feel her clench around you, hot and wet and perfect. “Missed this cock—missed you.” She leans forward, hands braced on your chest, and you still can’t believe it—your Yujin, back on top of you, fucking owning you like this. Her hair falls over her face, and you brush it back, needing to see her, those sharp eyes, that cocky little grin.

She starts moving then, slow at first, rolling her hips like she’s testing you, seeing how long you can last under her. “Look at you,” she says, voice dripping with control, “just lying there, taking it like a good boy. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” She lifts up, then drops back down, harder this time, and you groan loud, hands sliding to her ass, squeezing, trying to pull her in deeper.

“Anything,” you pant, staring up at her, completely fucking surrendered. “You’ve got me—fuck, you’ve always had me.” She’s riding you now, steady and relentless, her pussy gripping you so tight it’s almost too much, cream leaking out, smearing your hips as she moves. Her thighs flex, muscles working, and you’re just holding on, letting her set the pace, letting her use you.

“That’s right,” she growls, leaning down closer, her voice rough against your ear. “You’re mine—my good little boy, letting me fuck you like this. No one else gets this, you hear me? Just me.” She speeds up, slamming down harder, and you’re a mess—moaning, hips bucking up to meet her, but she’s in charge, pinning you down with her weight, her hands digging into your shoulders.

“Fuck, Yujin—mommy, please,” you whimper, and she grins, wild and triumphant, loving how you’re breaking under her. She straightens up, sitting back, bouncing now, her breasts swaying with every thrust, those piercings glinting, and you’re just watching, worshiping, hands roaming her body—her thighs, her ass, her tummy—anywhere you can reach.

“Keep saying it,” she demands, voice sharp, hips grinding down, working your cock so deep you’re seeing stars. “Call me that again—tell me who you belong to.”

“Mommy,” you moan, hands gripping her ass tighter, feeling her clench around you, wet and filthy and so fucking good. “I belong to you—only you. Fuck, Yujin, I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” she snarls, and she’s moving faster now, slamming down onto you, the bed creaking, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think straight—‘til all you know is me.” She’s relentless, dominant, and you’re surrendering completely, lost in her rhythm, in her heat, in the way she’s taking you apart piece by piece. You’re hers, and she’s proving it, and all you can do is moan and hold on as she rides you into oblivion.

Yujin’s still riding you, hips slamming down with that steady, punishing rhythm that’s got your whole body buzzing, the bedframe creaking like it’s about to give out. She’s in total control, her pussy gripping you tight, wet and hot, cream dripping down your cock, pooling on your hips. You’re a fucking wreck beneath her—moaning, hands roaming her body, completely surrendered to the way she’s owning you. Then she shifts, leaning forward, her face hovering just above yours, close enough that you can feel her breath on your lips.

Her eyes lock onto yours, dark and commanding, and one hand slides up your chest to your throat. She wraps her fingers around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make your pulse jump under her grip. “Open your mouth,” she orders, voice low and sharp, like she’s daring you to disobey. You don’t even think about it—your lips part fast, jaw slack, ready for whatever she’s got.

She smirks, pleased, and leans in closer, tilting her head just so. Then she lets it happen—spit pooling on her tongue before she lets it drip, slow and deliberate, right into your waiting mouth. It’s warm, slick, landing on your tongue, and you shudder, tasting her, feeling it slide down your throat as you swallow. It’s filthy, raw, and it’s got your dick throbbing even harder inside her. Before you can even process it, she crashes her lips onto yours, kissing you hard and messy—tongue diving in, mixing her spit with yours, her teeth grazing your lip like she’s claiming you all over again.

She doesn’t stop riding you—not for a second—hips rolling, grinding, keeping you pinned beneath her as her mouth moves against yours. You’re drowning in it—her taste, her heat, the way she’s squeezing your neck just enough to make your head spin. Your hands slide up her body, desperate for more, landing on her breasts. You squeeze, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and she gasps into your mouth, a sharp, sweet moan breaking free. Those piercings make her so damn sensitive, and you can feel it—the way her body reacts, the hitch in her breath, the way her pussy clenches tighter around you.

“Fuck, babe,” she mutters against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, her hand still on your throat, thumb brushing your jaw. “You’re so fucking good—playing with my tits like that.” She’s still moving, hips circling, riding you deep, and you squeeze again, harder this time, rolling your thumbs over her nipples, tugging lightly at the piercings. She moans again, louder, sweeter, her dom edge cracking just a little as the sensitivity hits her full force.

“Shit, that feels—mmph—so good,” she groans, head tipping back for a second, exposing her neck as she rides you, her hand loosening on your throat but still resting there, keeping you in check. You’re obsessed—hands kneading her breasts, feeling the weight of them, the way they bounce with every thrust she makes. Her nipples are hard against your palms, the piercings cool and firm, and you pinch them lightly, just to hear that sound again—that soft, desperate moan that slips out of her.

“You like that, huh?” you rasp, voice hoarse, watching her unravel a little, your hands working her over as she fucks you. “So sensitive, mommy—fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Don’t get cocky,” she snaps, but it’s breathy, half-lost in the pleasure, and she squeezes your neck again, leaning down to kiss you rough, shutting you up. Her tongue’s aggressive, licking into your mouth, tasting her own spit still lingering there, and you groan, meeting her halfway, kissing her back like you’re starving for it. All the while, she’s riding you hard, pussy soaking you, tight and slick, driving you insane—but you’re not cumming yet, not until she says so. She’s got you locked down, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

You keep playing with her breasts, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipples between your fingers, and she’s melting into it—moaning into your mouth, her hips stuttering just a little as the sensitivity catches her off guard again. “Fuck—babe, you’re gonna make me lose it,” she gasps, pulling back, her lips swollen, eyes dark and wild. “Keep touching me like that—don’t stop.”

“Never,” you mutter, hands roaming her chest, obsessed with how she feels—soft and heavy, the piercings adding this edge that’s got you hooked. She’s still in charge, still dominating you, but you can feel her slipping, her moans getting louder, her pussy fluttering around your cock with every move. You’re surrendered, completely—hands worshiping her, body pinned beneath her, just taking it, letting her ride you into the fucking ground.

Yujin’s riding you like she’s lost her damn mind, hips snapping down faster now, harder, like she’s chasing something she can’t quite reach. The bed’s groaning under the pressure, sheets tangled around your legs, and the room’s thick with the smell of sex—sweat, her, you. She’s a fucking vision above you, hair wild, skin flushed, those pierced nipples bouncing with every thrust. Her pussy’s soaked, gripping you tight, slick and creamy, and you’re so deep inside her it’s like she’s pulling you in, refusing to let go.

She leans forward, her breath hot against your face, and you catch the shift—her dom edge is cracking, slipping into something rawer, needier. “Fuck, babe,” she pants, voice shaky, her hand sliding from your neck to brace against your chest. “You feel so fucking good—don’t stop touching me.” Her thighs are trembling, muscles flexing as she grinds down, and you can feel her getting close, that desperate edge creeping in.

You don’t waste a second—your mouth latches onto her breast, lips closing around her nipple, the cool metal of her piercing pressing against your tongue. You suck hard, flicking it with the tip, and she gasps, loud and sharp, her whole body jerking against you. “Shit—yes, like that,” she moans, her voice breaking, hips stuttering as she rides you even faster. The sensitivity’s killing her, you can tell—those piercings amplifying every move, every graze of your teeth, and she’s losing it, moaning louder, more demanding, like she can’t get enough.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking sensitive,” you mutter against her skin, switching to the other breast, sucking just as hard, your hand squeezing the one you left behind. She whimpers, sweet and needy, and it’s got you reeling—your dick throbs inside her, the heat and pressure building fast. Her pussy’s squeezing you so nice, wet and tight, and you’re right on the edge, barely holding it together.

“Fuck—I’m close,” she gasps, leaning down, her forehead pressing against yours, her eyes half-lidded and wild. “You’re close too, huh? I can feel it—your cock’s fucking pulsing.” She’s panting now, her breath hitching with every thrust, and you nod, words caught in your throat because yeah, you’re right there with her, teetering on the brink.

“Cum with me,” she says, voice dropping low, almost a growl, her hips slamming down mercilessly. “Want you to cum inside me—give me a creampie, babe. Fill me up.” And fuck, that’s hot—your ex never let you, always made you pull out, but Yujin? She’s begging for it, demanding it, and it’s driving you insane. “You want that?” she asks, smirking even as she’s falling apart. “Wanna pump me full?”

“Hell yeah,” you groan, hands gripping her hips now, pulling her down harder, your voice rough and desperate. “Fuck, Yujin, I’d give you anything—gonna fill you up so good.” She moans at that, loud and needy, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice, and you know it’s coming—both of you, barreling toward it together.

She’s relentless now, riding you fast, wild, her hips rolling and grinding like she’s trying to milk you dry. “Come on, babe—cum for mommy,” she pants, voice strained, her nails digging into your chest. “Give it to me—now.” Her pussy’s squeezing you so tight it’s almost painful, wet and hot and pulsing, and you can’t hold back anymore—your whole body locks up, a hoarse “Fuck!” ripping out of you as you cum, hard and deep inside her.

The second she feels it—your hot, thick cum spilling into her—she’s done for. “Shit—yes!” she cries, her voice breaking into this gorgeous, desperate moan as she cums too, her pussy clenching around you, sucking you in deeper. You can feel it—the way your load pumps into her, the way her walls flutter around you, taking it all, and it’s fucking beautiful. She keeps riding you, shaking, her hips jerking as the orgasm rips through her, and you’re gasping, overwhelmed, watching her fall apart on top of you.

“Fuck, Yujin,” you mutter, voice wrecked, hands sliding up to her waist as she slows, still rocking against you, milking every last drop. Her pussy’s dripping now, a mix of her cream and your cum leaking out, smearing across your hips, and she’s trembling, chest heaving, those sweet little moans spilling from her lips as she rides out the aftershocks.

She collapses onto you, heavy and warm, her body pressing you into the mattress, her head resting on your shoulder. You’re both panting, sweaty, and you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, fast and wild like yours. Your hands roam her back, tracing the curve of her spine, and you’re still inside her, still hard, her pussy pulsing faintly around you. For a minute, it’s just that—the quiet, the closeness, the rain tapping the window—and then you open your mouth, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“I love you,” you say, soft and raw. It’s not planned, just spills out, and you feel it—how much you mean it, how much she’s got you twisted up inside.

She lifts her head, slow, looking at you with those dark, sharp eyes, and for a second you think maybe you fucked up, said too much. But then she smiles—those dimples popping, soft and real—and it’s like a weight lifts off you. “I love you too,” she says, voice quiet but steady, leaning down to kiss you, slow and deep, her lips lingering against yours. “You’re mine, you know that? All fucking mine.”

It’s intense—romantic and possessive all at once, and it hits you hard, makes your chest tighten. “Yeah,” you mutter, hands tightening on her hips, pulling her closer even though she’s already plastered against you. “Yours. Always have been.” And it’s true—she’s got you wrapped around her finger, always did, and the idea that a girl like her, this fucking goddess, wants you? It’s insane, a damn miracle, and drives you up the wall.

Then she shifts, slow and deliberate, lifting herself off you with a wet, filthy sound as your cock slips free, still hard, glistening with her cum and yours. She glances down at it, smirking like she’s proud of the mess she’s made, then slides off the bed, standing tall and beckoning you with a lazy flick of her hand.

“C’mon, babe,” she says, voice hoarse but dripping with that dom edge, her dimples flashing as she grins. “Get up. We’re not done—got something else for you.” Her thighs flex as she moves, slick and shiny from the orgasm, and you’re already stumbling out of bed after her, legs shaky but too fucking hooked to care.

She turns, facing you, and steps close—real close—her chest brushing yours, her breath hot on your neck. Then she shifts, spinning around so her back’s to you, ass pressing against your hips, and fuck, the view—those long, juicy thighs, thick and glistening, still wet from everything you just did. She looks over her shoulder, smirking, and reaches back, grabbing your cock with one hand, guiding it right between her legs. “Stand still,” she murmurs, voice low and teasing, as she closes her thighs around you, trapping you there.

“Shit,” you groan, hands flying to her hips on instinct, feeling the soft, warm flesh squeeze your dick tight. Her thighs are soaked—your cum, hers, all mixed together, slick and messy—and it’s fucking perfect. She starts moving, slow and sensual, sliding her thighs back and forth, and it’s like nothing else—soft, juicy, gripping you just right. “Yujin—fuck, that feels so good,” you mutter, voice rough, already half-lost in it.

“Yeah?” she says, glancing back, her voice dripping with dirty satisfaction. “You like this, huh? My thighs fucking you—look at you, babe, already a mess again.” She tightens them, squeezing harder, and you hiss, hips twitching as the pressure hits just right. Her thighs are long, wrapping you up completely, and the way they slide, slow and deliberate, wet and warm, it’s got your head spinning.

“Goddamn, you’re unreal,” you pant, hands sliding down to grip her hips tighter, feeling the muscle flex under your fingers as she works you over. “Missed these thighs—fuck, they’re so soft, so juicy.” You’re babbling now, too caught up to care, and she laughs, low and smug, loving how you’re falling apart.

“Thought you’d like it,” she says, voice husky, picking up the pace just a little, her thighs gliding over your cock, slick and tight. “Gonna keep you right here, babe—nice and cozy between mommy’s legs. You love that, don’t you? Trapped like my good little boy.” Her words are filthy, possessive, and it’s lighting you up, every syllable sinking into you, making you harder, needier.

“Fuck yeah,” you groan, leaning into her, your chest pressing against her back, hands roaming her sides, her ass, anywhere you can reach. “Love it—love you, Yujin. You’re fucking killing me.” Your dick’s throbbing, slick with her juices, and the way she’s got you locked between her thighs, it’s slow torture—sensual as hell, every slide dragging you closer to the edge but not quite there.

She tilts her head back, resting it against your shoulder, and you can feel her smirk, feel the heat of her skin against yours. “Poor thing,” she teases, voice all mock sympathy as she squeezes her thighs again, making you curse under your breath. “Can’t get enough of me, can you? Bet you’d stay like this all night if I let you—fucking my thighs ‘til you’re begging.”

“Please,” you mutter, half-joking, half-desperate, your hands digging into her hips, pulling her back so your cock slides deeper between her legs. “I’d fucking beg for it—you know I would.” She’s got you so wound up, the softness of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to them, it’s unreal, and you’re losing yourself in it, in her.

“Dirty boy,” she murmurs, voice low and pleased, her thighs tightening again as she moves, slow and deliberate, dragging it out. “Look at us—both dripping, all messy from earlier, and you’re still so fucking hard for me. You’re obsessed, babe—fucking obsessed with your mommy.” She rolls her hips just a little, enough to make her thighs shift, and you moan, loud and shameless, because yeah, she’s right—you are.

“Fuck, Yujin—can’t help it,” you say, voice wrecked, leaning forward to kiss her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. “You’re so hot—so fucking perfect. These thighs—shit, I’d die right here.” Your hands slide up, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she sighs, soft and sweet, like she’s enjoying it just as much.

“Mm, keep talking,” she says, voice dipping lower, her thighs sliding faster now, still tight, still wet, the friction building slow and steady. “Tell me how much you love it—how much you love me.” She’s demanding, controlling, and you’re giving in, every word spilling out raw and unfiltered.

“Love you so fucking much,” you pant, hands roaming her body, fingers sinking into her flesh as she works you over. “Love these thighs—love how they feel, how they’re squeezing me. Love your pussy, your ass, every fucking inch of you. You’re a goddess, Yujin—my goddess. Can’t believe you’re mine.” Your lips brush her shoulder, her neck, needy little kisses as your cock throbs between her legs.

She moans, soft and low, her thighs trembling slightly as she keeps going, the sound of her skin against yours wet and filthy. “Fuck, babe—that’s it,” she says, voice breaking a little, her dom edge softening into something needy. “Keep telling me—keep worshiping me. You’re so good at it—my perfect boy.” She tightens her thighs again, slowing down just to tease, and you whimper, hips jerking, desperate for more.

“Shit, you’re amazing,” you mutter, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, pulling her back against you as she moves. “So fucking sexy—so strong. Missed this—missed you. You’ve got me so fucked up, Yujin—can’t think about anything else.” Your dick’s sliding between her thighs, slow and sensual, and it’s driving you insane, the softness, the warmth, the way she’s got you locked in.

“Good,” she growls, picking up the pace a little, her thighs flexing as she squeezes you tighter. “That’s how it should be—you thinking about me, needing me. No one else gets this—gets you—like I do. You’re mine, babe—fucking mine.”

“Yeah—yours,” you gasp, hands gripping her harder, feeling the tension building, your cock throbbing with every slide. “Always yours—fuck, Yujin, I’d do anything for you.” She’s got you so close, the slow drag of her thighs, the wetness still clinging to her skin, it’s all too much, but you don’t want it to end—you want to stay here, wrapped up in her, forever.

She turns her head slightly, lips brushing your jaw, her breath hot and uneven. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re wrecked like this,” she murmurs, voice soft but still commanding. “All needy and hard for me—bet you’d cum right now if I told you to, huh?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you groan, hips twitching, your dick pulsing between her thighs as she keeps that tight, sensual grip. “Just say it—please, mommy, tell me.” You’re begging now, shameless, and she laughs, low and dirty, loving how you’re breaking under her.

“Not yet,” she says, voice firm, slowing her movements just enough to keep you on the edge. “Gonna make you wait—gonna make you earn it. You’re gonna cum when I say, and not a fucking second before.” Her thighs squeeze again, and you moan, loud and ragged, your hands sliding up to her back, clutching her like she’s the only thing keeping you upright.

“Shit—please, Yujin,” you mutter, voice cracking, your whole body trembling as she keeps you there, teetering. “You’re so fucking good—so perfect. Love you—fuck, I love you so much.” It’s spilling out, raw and desperate, and she hums, pleased, her thighs sliding slow and deliberate, keeping you locked in that sweet, torturous rhythm.

“Love you too, babe,” she whispers, turning her head to kiss you, slow and deep, her tongue teasing yours as she keeps fucking you with her thighs. “My good boy—my perfect little toy. Gonna take care of you—gonna give you everything.”

Yujin’s got you pinned in this tight, sensual cocoon of her thighs, and it’s like she’s crafted this moment just to drive you fucking insane. Your dick’s rubbing right up against her pussy now—not inside, just grazing her lips, teasing her clit with every pass—and she’s moaning, soft and low, this needy little sound that’s got your head spinning. The wetness of her, the heat, it’s all mixing with your cum from before, dripping down between her thighs, making everything so goddamn slippery and filthy. You’re a mess, hands shaking, and they fly up to her breasts on instinct, fingers sinking into that soft, sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, babe,” she groans, her voice rough and thick with pleasure as you squeeze her tits, thumbs brushing over those pierced nipples that make her whole body jolt. “Yeah—keep doing that, keep touching me.” Her thighs tighten even more, squeezing your cock harder, and you can feel her pussy lips parting slightly, your shaft sliding right along her slit, catching every bit of her slickness. She’s dripping again—her arousal mixing with the cum leaking out of you—and it’s driving you wild, the way she’s grinding against you, her moans syncing up with every slow, sensual drag.

Your hands knead her breasts, rougher now, pinching those sensitive nipples just to hear her gasp, and she’s losing it—her dom edge softening into something raw and desperate. “Shit—your cock feels so good,” she mutters, head tilting back against your shoulder, her hair sticking to your sweaty skin. “Rubbing me just right—fuck, I could cum like this.” She speeds up, thighs working you faster, wet and messy, and you’re groaning, hips bucking up to meet her, your dick throbbing so hard it’s almost painful. The friction’s intense, her pussy lips slick and hot, sliding over you, and you’re leaking a lot now—precum oozing out, dripping down her thighs, mixing with everything else. She glances down, sees it, and moans louder, voice breaking into this dirty little laugh.

“Goddamn, babe—look at that,” she says, panting, her thighs squeezing tighter as she watches your cum run down her legs. “Leaking all over me—fucking love that. You’re such a mess for me, huh?” She’s reveling in it, the way you’re losing control, the way she’s got you spilling without even cumming yet, and it’s pushing her harder, her movements getting sloppier, more frantic. “Gonna milk you dry like this—fuck, you’re so hard still.” Her words are raw, filthy, and it’s got you reeling, hands gripping her tits, thumbs rolling over her piercings again just to hear that sweet, needy moan spill out of her.

“Fuck, Yujin—don’t stop,” as your hips jerk, chasing the rhythm she’s setting. She’s moaning too, her pussy quivering against your cock, and you can feel it—she’s close, teetering on the edge just from this teasing, grinding tightjob. But then she shifts, pulling away just when you think she’s about to lose it, and you groan, half in protest, half in desperation. She turns her head, smirking down at you, her eyes dark and wild. “Not yet,” she says, voice hoarse but firm. “We’re switching it up.”

Before you can even process it, she’s sliding off you, your cock slick and shiny from her thighs, still leaking, still aching. She grabs your arm, tugging you gently but with that no-bullshit strength, and you follow, stumbling to the edge of the bed. You sit there, legs spread, chest heaving, and she steps right up between them, turning so her back’s to you again. “Stay right there,” she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder with that cocky little grin, dimples flashing, and you’re nodding, too wrecked to argue.

She grabs your cock, firm and sure, giving it a slow stroke that makes you hiss, your hands flying to her hips. Then she lines you up, her pussy hovering just above you—wet, creamy, glistening—and sinks down, slow and deliberate, taking you in inch by fucking inch. You both sigh, loud and shaky, as she settles onto your lap, her ass pressed tight against your hips, your cock buried deep inside her. “Fuck,” you groan, head tipping back, hands gripping her waist like you’re afraid she’ll vanish again. “You’re—so fucking tight, Yujin.”

“Yeah?” she says, starting to move—small bounces at first, testing you, her pussy squeezing you so good it’s got your eyes rolling back. “I love this cock stretching me out, babe.” She’s still got her back to you, and it’s a goddamn sight—her ass bouncing, her thighs flexing, all that juicy thickness working you over as she rides you reverse. Your hands slide down, cupping her ass, squeezing, and she moans, picking up the pace, slamming down harder now.

“Shit—look at you,” you mutter, voice rough, watching her move, the way her pussy swallows you whole, creamy and dripping, leaving a slick ring around your base. “Riding me like a fucking pro—fuck, you’re so hot.” You’re babbling, too caught up to care, and she loves it—you can tell by the way she moans, louder, needier, her hips rolling as she bounces, driving you deeper with every drop.

“Gonna fuck you senseless,” she gasps, hands bracing on your knees now for leverage, her body rocking back against you, fast and filthy. “My good boy—taking it so well, letting me use you like this.” Her pussy’s gripping you tight, pulsing, and you’re groaning with every thrust, your hands roaming her ass, her thighs, anywhere you can reach. She’s relentless, ass slapping against your hips, the wet sound of her pussy on your cock filling the room, and it’s got you on fire, every nerve screaming for more.

“Fuck, Yujin—harder,” you growl, hands digging into her flesh, pulling her down rougher, and she obliges—just slams onto you, her moans turning into these sweet, broken little cries. “Love this—love you,” you mutter, half-aware, your dick throbbing inside her, leaking more cum now, dripping out with every bounce. She’s feeling it too—her pussy’s quivering, soaking you, and she glances back, smirking even as she’s panting.

“Love me, huh?” she teases, voice breathy, slowing down just enough to grind her hips, dragging your cock inside her slow and deep. “Keep saying it—fucking love hearing it.” She’s got you pinned, emotionally, physically, her pussy squeezing you so tight you’re seeing stars.

“Love you—fuck, I love you so much,” you say, voice hoarse, hands sliding up to her waist, guiding her as she picks up speed again. “You’re everything—fucking everything.” She moans at that, loud and sweet, her pussy clenching, and you’re both a mess—sweaty, sticky, her thighs slick with cum and arousal, your cock leaking inside her, making every thrust wetter, sloppier.

She’s bouncing on you now, harder, faster, like she’s on a fucking mission, her pussy gripping you so tight it’s like she’s trying to wring you out. She’s not slowing down—hell no—she shifts her hand down between her legs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in quick, sloppy circles. “Fuck, babe,” she pants, voice high and shaky, her head tipping back so her hair brushes your chest. “Gonna cum—need it so bad—gonna cum all over your cock.” Her desperation’s thick, raw.

She’s wild now, moaning like she’s lost it, her thighs trembling, her pussy soaking you—wet, creamy, dripping down your shaft as she rides you. “Shit—look at me,” she gasps, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes dark and frantic, those dimples nowhere in sight now—just pure, unfiltered need. “You feel that? How fucking wet I am? All for you—fuck, you drive me insane.” Her fingers are working her clit faster, her moans turning into these sharp, needy little cries, and you’re just holding on, groaning, your dick throbbing inside her, so close but not there yet because she’s got you under her spell, waiting for her to call the shots.

“Goddamn, Yujin,” you mutter, voice rough, hands digging into her hips as she slams down, over and over, her ass jiggling against you, the wet slap of her skin on yours filling the room. “You’re so fucking hot—ride me, fuck, don’t stop.” She’s relentless, her pussy squeezing you tighter with every bounce, her fingers rubbing herself sloppy and fast, and you can feel it—her walls fluttering, her body shaking, she’s right on the edge. “Cum for me,” you growl, hands sliding up to grip her waist, pulling her down harder. “Wanna feel it—c’mon, mommy, soak me.”

That does it—she snaps, her whole body locking up as she cums, hard and loud, a broken “Fuck—babe!” ripping out of her as her pussy clamps down on you like a vice, pulsing, gushing, her thighs quaking against yours. She’s shaking, gasping, her fingers still circling her clit as she rides it out, and holy shit, the way she squeezes you—it’s intense, almost too much, your cock leaking more, dripping inside her, but you hold it together, barely. She’s moaning, desperate and sweet, her bounces turning erratic, sloppy, like she’s milking every last shudder out of herself, and you’re just watching, mesmerized, your hands roaming her ass, her back, feeling her unravel.

“Shit,” she pants, slowing down, her chest heaving as she leans back against you, her pussy still twitching around your cock. “That was—fuck, so good.” She’s trembling, catching her breath, but then she turns her head, looks at you with those wild eyes, and you know she’s not done—she’s got more in her. “You’re close too, huh?” she says, voice ragged but teasing, her hand sliding down to where you’re still buried inside her, feeling how hard you are. “I can tell—fuck, you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, hips twitching up into her, your voice wrecked. “So fucking close—Yujin, I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish, too wound up, and she grins, wicked and sharp, sliding off your lap in one smooth move. Your cock slips free, slick and shiny, still leaking, and she drops to her knees in front of you, grabbing it with both hands before you can even catch your breath.

“Give it to me,” she says, stroking you fast, her hands tight and slippery from all the mess. “Cum in my mouth—want it all over my tongue, babe. C’mon, give it to mommy.” She’s pumping you now, relentless, her grip firm, and you’re moaning loud, no holding back, the sound ripping out of you as your hands fly to her hair, gripping, guiding her. She’s so fucking good—too good—her hands working you like she’s done it a thousand times, and the way she’s looking up at you, eyes dark and hungry, begging for it, it’s shredding you.

“Fuck—please, Yujin,” you gasp, voice breaking, your hips bucking as she strokes faster, her tongue darting out to teased the tip, flicking over it, salty and wet. “Gonna cum—shit, I’m gonna cum so hard.” She’s moaning now, soft little hums against your cock, egging you on, and she’s begging—begging—her voice dripping with lust. “Do it—cum for me, babe—fucking cum, I need it.”

That’s it—you’re gone, groaning loud and ragged as your cock pulses, the first spurt hitting her tongue, hot and thick, and she takes it, opening her mouth wider, stroking you through it. “Fuck—yes!” you mutter, hips jerking, and she’s pumping you, milking you, cum spilling out—spurt after spurt, more than you thought you had left after all that leaking. It’s a lot, coating her tongue, dripping from her lips, and she doesn’t stop, hands sliding, squeezing every last drop out of you until you’re shaking, gasping, your cock twitching, hypersensitive as hell.

She pulls back, slow and deliberate, her tongue curling out to show you—white and thick, pooled there, a fucking mess—and you’re just staring, chest heaving, completely wrecked. “Look at that,” she murmurs, smirking, then closes her mouth, swallowing it down slow, savoring it like it’s some gourmet shit. She leans in after, licking the tip of your cock—soft, careful, but it’s so sensitive you flinch anyway, a shaky “Fuck, Yujin” slipping out as she cleans you up, every swipe of her tongue making you twitch.

She stands then, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning wide—those dimples popping, but there’s nothing innocent about her now. You’re still gasping, pleasure buzzing through you, when she steps close, grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against her. Her skin’s hot, sticky with sweat and cum, and she’s dominating—her grip firm, her eyes locking onto yours like she’s staking a claim all over again. “You’re mine,” she says, voice low, intense, her fingers digging into your sides. “Officially—fucking mine. No thinking about other girls, no looking at them, nothing. Everything you’ve got—it’s for me now. Got it?”

You nod, fast, still too fucked out to argue, your hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. “Yeah—promise,” you mutter, voice hoarse but sure. “All yours, Yujin—no one else. Swear.”

Her grin softens, those dimples turning almost cute, and she leans in, kissing you deep, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you, tasting herself. “Good boy,” she whispers against your lips. “I love you—fuck, I really do.”

“Love you too,” you say back, raw and immediate, your hands tightening on her, pulling her in so there’s no space between you. “So fucking much, Yujin—you’ve got no idea.” It’s intense—this pull between you, this messy, wild, overwhelming thing—and you’re both standing there, breathing hard, wrapped up in each other like nothing else exists.

She smirks again, that playful edge creeping back, her hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing. “Oh, I’ve got some idea,” she teases, pressing herself against you, and fuck, you’re still half-hard, still twitchy from everything she’s done. “You’re crazy for me—and I’m crazy for you. We’re stuck like this, babe—deal with it.” She laughs, low and dirty, and you’re grinning too, helpless, because yeah—you’re in deep, and it’s exactly where you wanna be.

—

You stir awake, the kind of groggy wake-up where your limbs feel heavy and the world’s still fuzzy, like you’re wading through a dream that hasn’t quite let go. The room’s bathed in this soft, gray light, the rain still pattering against the window in a slow, hypnotic rhythm—same as yesterday, like the weather’s stuck on repeat. You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and that’s when you feel her—Yujin’s stare, warm and steady, prickling your skin before you even turn your head. She’s right there, propped up on one elbow, lying on her side, and fuck, she’s a vision—dangerous, sexy, like some kind of predator playing house. Just that tank top, white and worn-in, stretched thin over her chest so you can see the faint outline of her nipple piercings pushing against it, and these tiny panties, barely hanging onto her hips. Her hair’s a tangled mess, spilling over her shoulder, and she’s got this lazy, smug smile, like she’s already claimed the morning—and you—before you’ve even had a chance to catch your breath.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says, voice low and scratchy, still thick with sleep but laced with that teasing edge she’s got down to an art. She stretches, slow and deliberate, arching her back so the tank top rides up, showing off the smooth plane of her stomach, the dip of her navel, and you’re already hooked, eyes tracing every inch like you haven’t seen it a hundred times before. “Slept like a fucking rock, huh? Guess I wore you out.” She slides closer, her bare leg brushing yours under the sheets, warm and soft, and it’s so easy, so natural, like she’s picking up right where she left off—like the months of chaos, the screaming matches, the way she’d smashed a plate against the wall and told you you’d regret leaving, never happened.

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice rough, still waking up as you shift to sit up a little, the sheets slipping down to your hips. “Guess I needed it.” You catch a glimpse of her thigh, thick and glistening faintly in the dim light, and there’s this flash in your head—her voice, sharp and venomous, “You think you can do better? Good fucking luck,” the way her eyes had burned with something wild, something that made your stomach twist with fear and want all at once. But now she’s here, soft and close, her hand already sliding up your arm, fingers curling around your bicep like she’s testing her grip, and it’s hard to hold onto that memory when she’s looking at you like this—like you’re hers, and she’s never doubted it.

She leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle, then pulls back, smirking as she swings her legs off the bed. “C’mon, let’s get coffee—rain’s not stopping, so we’re staying in. My rules.” She’s up now, padding across the hardwood, her tank top barely covering her ass, those panties hugging her hips just right, and you’re watching, shameless, because how could you not? She glances back over her shoulder, catching you staring, and her smirk turns sharper, dimples flashing like a trap snapping shut. “Like the view? Better get used to it—gonna be seeing a lot of me around here.”

You follow, slower, your feet hitting the cold floor as you drag yourself out of bed, boxers hanging low on your hips, still half-dazed from sleep and her. The apartment smells faintly of last night—sweat, her perfume, something musky and lived-in—and the rain’s a dull roar outside, sealing you in this little bubble with her. She’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through your cabinets like she owns them, pulling out mugs, coffee grounds, moving with this easy confidence. “Found the good shit,” she says, holding up the bag of beans you’d forgotten about, some overpriced blend you’d bought on a whim. “You’ve been holding out on me—thought you were all instant crap now.”

“Nah, just lazy,” you say, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as you watch her work the coffee maker like it’s hers. She’s humming under her breath, some tune you don’t recognize, and it’s so domestic, so fucking normal, it’s messing with you—because the last time you saw her, she was screaming, “You’ll come crawling back, watch,” her voice cracking as she’d shoved your stuff into a bag, tears streaking her face. Now she’s here, barefoot, pouring water into the machine, her tank top slipping off one shoulder, and it’s like that never happened—like you’re picking up from some perfect moment that never broke.

She turns, catching your eye, and steps closer, sliding her hands up your chest, fingers brushing your collarbone. “You’re quiet,” she murmurs, tilting her head, her breath warm against your jaw. “What’s up? Thinking about how lucky you are to have me back?” She’s teasing, but there’s this weight in her words, this quiet insistence, and you feel it—this flicker of something off, something that makes your throat tighten. But then she kisses you, soft and slow, her lips tasting faintly of toothpaste, and it’s gone, washed away by the heat of her mouth, the way her body presses into yours.

“Lucky as hell,” you say, forcing a grin, your hands finding her hips, sliding under the tank top to feel the bare skin of her waist. “Still can’t believe you’re here—thought I’d wake up and you’d be a ghost.” It’s half a joke, half true, and she laughs, soft and low, pulling back to grab the mugs as the coffee maker gurgles, filling the room with that rich, bitter smell.

“Not a ghost,” she says, handing you a mug, black and steaming, her fingers brushing yours as she does. “Real as fuck—sticking around this time.” She takes a sip, leaning against the counter opposite you, her legs crossed at the ankles, and it’s a picture—her in your kitchen, rain streaking the windows, the world outside blurry and distant. “Gonna make this place mine again—you cool with that?”

“Yeah,” you say, sipping your coffee, the heat biting your tongue as you watch her over the rim. “Feels right—having you here.” And it does—too right, maybe, because there’s this quiet hum in your head, this shadow of her voice, “You’re nothing without me,” the way she’d cried and clung to you after the fights, promising it’d be different, only to blow up again days later. But now she’s calm, sipping coffee, her tank top slipping down one shoulder, her eyes warm and steady, and it’s easy to shove that noise down, to let the moment wrap around you like a blanket.

She sets her mug down, stepping closer again, her hands sliding up your arms, resting on your shoulders. “Good,” she murmurs, kissing you again, quick this time, her lips soft and familiar. “Cause I’m not letting you out of my sight—lazy day, just us. Rain’s got us trapped anyway.” She pulls you toward the couch, tugging you down with her, and you go, coffee abandoned on the counter, your body sinking into the cushions as she curls up against you, her head on your chest, one leg slung over yours like she’s anchoring you there.

“Love this,” she says, voice muffled against your shirt, her fingers tracing lazy lines on your stomach. “You and me—chill, no bullshit. Missed it—missed you.” She tilts her head up, smiling, those dimples making her look almost sweet, almost innocent, and your chest tightens—love, yeah, but something else too, something you can’t name. “You’re not gonna fuck this up again, right?” she teases, but her eyes linger, searching, and you feel it—this quiet pressure, this need to say what she wants to hear.

“Nah,” you say, brushing her hair back, your hand resting on her neck, thumb grazing her pulse. “Not letting you go—love you too much.” It’s true, raw, spilling out easy, and she hums, satisfied, nestling closer, her body warm and solid against you. The rain keeps falling, a steady drone, and you’re here, tangled up with her, the past a faint echo you can barely hear over her breathing. She’s got you—completely—and you’re telling yourself it’s luck, pure fucking luck, that someone like her—sharp, beautiful, unstoppable—wants you this bad, needs you this close. And she’s smiling, marking you with every touch, every word, like she’s never been anything but yours.

[lovebugism]

Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you

ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)

“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.

You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more. 

“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.

Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ‘cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.

You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”

He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.

“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”

Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”

You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”

“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.

“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.

You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means. 

You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house). 

You decide to humor him, anyway. 

“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.

Eddie’s grin widens.

“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.

You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.

You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”

Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.

“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”

Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.

A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer. 

Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!” 

Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh. 

“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.

Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you. 

In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.

He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.

The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.

[witherby]

I need anything and everything of jason being Mouses favourite. (The Littlest Wayne AU)

They get a snack/ meal - Jay Jay has to take a bite first before they eat

They have a new toy- Jay Jay has to see and play

I’ll take anything you can think of.

I am obsessed. The AU is amazing

-🤍💜

Say less! I love Jason Todd and so does Flittermouse! By the way the word count is 3100+ lol oops

The Littlest Wayne: Fist Bumps

Masterlist is Here!

"This is stupid."

"Shut up, you're just mad you won't get picked."

Tim kicks Damian in the shin, who retaliates by kicking him back much, much harder in the ankle. Tim cries out, about to start a fight, but one stern look from Alfred settles them both down. They continue to sit beside each other without fuss, and soon everyone is all neatly lined in a row while Hal uses his ring to keep you safely suspended in a bubble, playing with a little rattle.

"Alright," Dick says excitedly, "we're going over the rules one more time! No jingling any shiny objects for Flitty to chase after, no getting out of line to get closer to them, and Bruce, no bare skin! We're gonna have Hal set them down and see who they come to first."

"This isn't gonna go the way you think it's gonna go," Bruce says, endlessly amused. "Please, none of you get your feelings hurt."

"Nobody's gonna start cryin', relax," Jason says, lounging on the floor between Damian and Hal. "Kay, we ready?"

A chorus of agreement follows, and Hal gently lowers you to the floor. They all immediately call your name, or variations of your nickname, waving their hands and patting their laps to get you to come to them. Your eyes widen, startled by the sudden rush of noise, and turn your head to assess everyone across the room.

You lock on to the man you want, the binky in your mouth bopping up and down excitedly, and you start speedily crawling to Jason.

"I KNOW that's fuckin' right!" He yells, scooping you into his arms and gently tossing you in the air a couple inches, then peppering your face with kisses. "I'm the favorite you little freaks. Kiss my ass."

"Okay, whatever, we knew that already," Dick says, "now it's time to see who the second favorite is. Put them down and go away so we can play again."

"Be nice to your brother," Bruce says. Dick flicks Bruce in the ear and he scowls. "Ow. Be nice to me."

"Fine. Gotta know who my competition is for the number one spot in Mousey's heart, even if I'm winning by a landslide." Jason carries you across the room and sets you back down. "You stay for a sec, kay? Pound it." He picks up your chubby arm and makes you give him a fist bump, then walks away from you.

Before they can even start a second round of the game, you're shuffling after him again. Christ, it's adorable.

"It's because they can still see you, Todd," Damian says, scooping you up to put back in starting position. "Duck behind the couch."

Jason rolls his eyes but complies, bending down until he's out of sight. When the rest of the family calls for you again, you shuffle forward like you're going to crawl to Hal, but you veer past him and around to the back of the couch to get to Jason again.

"Oh my god, they've developed object permanence already," Tim says. Jason's triumphant laughter fills the room as he lifts you up to give you more kisses. His endless delight and your happy squealing softens the blow to everyone else's egos.

"This game sucks anyway," Dick mumbles, crossing his arms in defeat. "What idiot even came up with it in the first place..."

--

"You ask."

"Uh, no? You ask? I don't care."

"Yeah but he tolerates your questions. I don't wanna get my jaw blown off."

"Then don't ask, dumbass. It's so easy."

Jason clears his throat, causing the two goons to stiffen up and turn to face him. One of them looks upset that he was caught unaware, and the other looks one wrong move away from pissing himself.

"Hi, boss," they both greet.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" Jason asks, taking a half-step closer. "Cause last I checked, I sent you both over here to do quality control on our newest drug shipment. And I'm not seeing a lot of that gettin' done."

He turns to the more frightened man. If he didn't have his helmet on, he would've sneered at him.

"So what's the hold up? Need me to sew some mouths shut? Hmm? Want me t'cut out your fuckin' tongue? That'll motivate you real fast, I bet."

"We'll get right on it, boss," the other, clearly smarter, henchman states. "We were just. Uh. Wondering why there's... why there's a baby strapped to your chest."

Jason looks down at you. You stare right back at him, making a soft cooing noise around your Red Hood-themed binky, and reach up for his mask. He gently takes your hand instead, feeling your tiny fingers curl around the leather of his gloved pointer. He's smiling sweetly at you, despite no one being able to see it.

"This is M," he says by way of an answer. "Won't be an everyday occurrence — couldn't find another babysitter so I assured the dad I'd keep 'em safe for the night."

He doesn't mention that your dad is also his dad, and that when Jason tried to leave to do his vigilante work, you screamed the house down and would only calm down in his arms, therefore he had no choice. So here you are, strapped to his chest in a onesie padded with kevlar and vital-tracking tech, while your favorite brother carries your diapers and formula around in the same duffel he stashes his guns.

And because you're his favorite, too, he secretly hopes you throw more fits so he gets to hoard you all to himself again. Taking a few minutes to tickle your tummy or gently rock you in his arms stops him from losing his patience and blowing out the brains of several subordinates tonight — which his men clearly catch onto, because they all start telling him how nice it is to see such a cute and perfect and pleasant, life-saving baby hanging around.

Fuck yeah it's nice. S'cause you're the coolest baby ever. Jason gently makes you fist bump him.

--

"AHHH!"

Jason is out of his chair and bolting across the Manor before his brain fully registers your screaming through the baby monitor. There's surprised exclamations and footfalls not far from him as his thunderous steps stir up a commotion, but he doesn't care about that.

There are very few times in his life when he's moved this fast. Large, expansive rooms fly by him in a blur of color. He takes the stairs six at a time. If a door he needs to get through is closed, he's breaking it down with a well-placed hit with his shoulder and moving on.

When he gets to your room, he stops to yank the door open because he doesn't know if you're near it, and darts inside with a sharp shout of your name.

"What's wrong!?" He pants, zeroing in on you immediately. You've rushed into your wardrobe and climbed inside it, red-faced and crying as a crow flaps haphazardly around the bedroom. The shattered glass on the floor gives him the missing context, and he snatches the bird out of the air with more force than necessary while the adrenaline spike is still scrambling his nervous system.

Bruce is the second person to rush into your room just moments after, crouching by your hiding spot with furrowed brows and a soft, slightly winded voice.

"Are you hurt?" He asks. You whimper but shake your head, fat tears rolling down your little cheeks, and lift your hands. Bruce picks you up without hesitation and stands up.

"Jaylad?" He says, still in that gentle tone. "You alright?"

Jason doesn't answer. He's not alright, not really. The rage he'd built up thinking someone was in here hurting you is still burning through his veins, and with no outlet for it, he's struggling a bit.

Bruce doesn't take offense to his lack of response. He just offers you a small, reassuring smile and bounces you a bit in his arms.

"Let's go find Grandpa and snuggle up with some hot chocolate," he murmurs. "Jay-Jay will hang back and make sure your bedroom is safe for you."

"No!" You sob, leaning around your father's broad shoulders to reach for Jason. "Want Jay-Jay!"

"You can spend time with him in a little while, Mouse," Bruce says, starting to carry you out of the room. Your protests get louder and more frantic, pushing against him to no avail.

"Want Jay!" You repeat, sobbing openly. "Jay-Jay! Want, p'ease!! Jay-Jay!"

"Bruce," Jason utters through grit teeth. His father stops, only a few steps down the hallway, and turns back to him. "It's fine. I'll take 'em, you clean up the mess."

"...are you sure?" Bruce frowns, visibly cautious. He looks down at the bird still flapping helplessly as Jason holds it by the neck, firmer than strictly necessary.

Jason takes a step towards the broken window and tosses the crow out. After a second of frantic flapping, it straightens itself out and flies away with panicked sqawking.

He turns to you and holds out his arms. They're only trembling a little bit, but the edges of his vision are still tinged with green. Bruce hesitates to pass you over.

"I've got it," Jason murmurs, "I'm calm enough. Gimme my fuckin' sibling before you piss me off worse, B."

Bruce nods slowly. He brings you back into the room and hands you off to Jason. Your arms circle his neck and cling on tight, and you bury your face in his chest as you cry. It breaks his heart that you had such a bad scare. He can see the half-completed Lego build you were playing with on the floor in front of the window and hopes Bruce can get all the glass shards out between the bricks and carpet.

Jason carries you out of your bedroom and down the corridor to his. He leaves his door cracked open and flicks on lights as he goes, then brings you to the en-suite bathroom.

"Okay, Mousey," he mumbles, trying to set you on the sink's vanity. You clutch him tighter and whimper, and it drives a spear right through his chest. "Kid, I'm not goin' nowhere. Jay-Jay's right here, I just wanna make sure there's no glass on you."

A little more prodding and the compromise of you holding one of his hands gets you to relent. You sit miserably on the counter as your sobs slowly die down, and Jason tediously checks your hair and clothes for any bits of glass that may have landed on you when the crow crashed into the window. The slow, repetitive motions help quiet the last of his anger until he's just tired and concerned for you. He finds a couple tiny pieces, but your skin is unblemished and when he asks if you're hurt, you shake your head, which then calms him entirely.

"Alright, great job," he murmurs. "Come here, we'll go bother Alfie t'give us an icecream sammy before dinner and then cuddle in the main living room. Good plan?"

You sniffle, wiping the last of your tears away. Your cheeks are flushed and puffy. "Yeah, good pwan..."

Jason kisses the top of your head and offers you his fist. You gently bump yours against his, then lift your arms again to be picked back up. He obliges, refusing to put you back down for the rest of the day. When it's time for bed, you don't wanna go back into your room, so he spends the evening reading his current novel with a dim book light while you snooze away on his chest.

--

He's livid. Jason's got a hole in his leg and he can't run away from the rival gang leader pointing a gun at his head, and he's fucking livid.

"My first death was way cooler," he mutters. "Got blown up and everything."

"What the fuck are you saying?" The other man scowls. "I never could understand you through that thick-ass helmet."

"I'm saying, if you're gonna go down as the guy that killed the Red Hood, at least make the execution something fuckin' noteworthy," Jason rants, the pain making him bitchier than usual. He waves his hands for emphasis, pointing at the gunman much like a mother scolding her child. "Ohh I shot him and watched his brain splatter everywhere! So has every single marksman ever. I'm worth more than a bullet in an alleyway. The fuck do I look like, Bruce Wayne's folks?"

"Whoa, man," the shooter says, lifting his free hand to scratch the back of his head. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad I'm gonna kill you. You're that mad I'm not gonna kill you...in a cooler way?"

"Excellent listening ears, bucko! Gold star!" Jason coos, clapping. "Immolation, decapitation, tossin' me in an acid pit — fuck me, I'll take a stab wound over a bullet! D'you know how skilled you gotta be to get close enough to stab Red Hood to death!? If not for me, do somethin' that'll raise your own paltry street cred, shit. You're so fucking boring."

The man doesn't get another chance to weigh his options. The darkness of the alleyway pounces on him, sucking him into the void while he shrieks like an animal. Jason slumps against the wall and watches the shapeless darkness warp and twist, the gun abandoned on the ground in the gunman's initial panic. He feels his heart rate slow when you step out after a minute, wearing a thick jacket over your pajamas and a domino mask over your eyes as you hurry towards him. A flash of irritation makes him scowl as he realizes one of the others woke you up for this, when you aren't even a vigilante to begin with. The culprit's gonna get their ass beat as soon as he recovers enough to track them down.

"Okay," you stammer, kneeling next to him on the ground with a first aid kit. "Okay okay okay...Alf — umm, Agent A? I'm here, what do I do?"

"Remain calm, Flittermouse. All will be well," Alfred soothes you over the comms. Jason feels the adrenaline steadily exiting his body now that he's registered that he's safe. Now, it's a fight to stay conscious so you don't freak out even more than you're currently doing. He's so proud of you for coming out here despite the blatant fear.

Your hands shake as you pop the kit open and pull out the field tourniquet. Alfred instructs you on how to set it up, and Jason gently adjusts it when you wrap it a little too close to the bullet wound in his thigh. He grits his teeth as you tighten it, refusing to make a peep, and gives you a quick thumbs up when you tie it off.

"Okay, I stopped the bleeding. Do I bring him home, now?" You ask.

"As long as he has no other injuries, the medical bay is ready for you to transport him back to the cave."

"M'good, Mousey," Jason says, lifting his fist. "Sorry you had to come rescue your cool big bro. S'not your job."

"I was the one who could get here the fastest," you reply. After a moment's hesitation, you bump his fist with your own. "You're gonna be okay."

"M'gonna be okay," he echoes, knowing you need that confirmation. "Saved my life, kid. I'll do all your chores for the next week."

That gets a wet laugh out of you. You hug Jason tight and the shadows of the alley pool underneath your bodies. Jason closes his eyes and hugs you back, a steady anchor in the free-falling sensation entering your darkness gives him.

"My heroics are only worth a week of chores?"

"S'better than the rest get," he says. "They get one chore. Not even a whole day, just one chore."

You bury your face in his shoulder as the void swallows you and him up.

"You're my favorite, too, Jay-Jay," you mumble. Jason smiles as he loses the battle for consciousness.

--

"Good afternoon; welcome to Truce Juice. Would you like a moment with a menu or are you ready to order?"

Jason leans his hip against the counter and takes a menu off the small, laminated stack you've got sitting there, glancing over the options. Behind the helmet, he smiles as he remembers all the late nights you pulled him and your other brothers into the kitchen to taste test these drinks and snacks, desperate to make things that would appeal to many people. He remembers how proud you were to graduate from your culinary courses and the victory cry you let out when you found insurance willing to cover the building.

You smile warmly at him, waiting patiently for him to choose something off the menu for the first time in your brand new business.

"Black coffee," he says, voice warped by the modulator in the helmet, "two sugars."

"What size?" You ask, tapping it into the screen in front of you.

"Large. And a turkey panini, with avocado and pesto."

"Toasted?"

"What other fuckin' way would anybody get a panini?" He muses aloud. To strangers, he would sound angry, but you can tell he's genuinely asking. You just shrug and keep the soft smile on your face.

"You'd be surprised. Your total's on the screen; will that be cash or card?"

Jason reaches a gloved hand down. It glides past the pistol strapped to his thigh, eliciting nervous gasps from bystanders in the cafe, and into the pocket underneath, drawing out a plain, tri-fold wallet. He pulls out two hundred-dollar bills and huffs at you to keep the change, then saunters over to the pick-up counter to wait.

He crosses his arms and watches you scuttle around behind the counter, genuinely happy to make food and drinks for anybody that comes in. So far, you're uninjured and you've been able to stop any rising conflicts in seconds, which he's endlessly thankful for.

When his order is ready, you hand it to him with another bright smile.

"Alright, mister Hood, here you go. Have a great day!"

Jason nods, about to turn away, when he sees you hold your fist out in his periphery.

He grins, heart fit to burst, and bumps it back.

[mminghaos]

Can i ask a jealous and possesive mingyu that doesn't like you hangout with his friends?? And he's pissed about you not giving him enough attention...

all yours , kim mingyu x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: mingyu doesnt like sharing, especially when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex (dont do this !!), fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, rough sex,

requests open, do send some in !!

mingyu's eyes have been on you all night.

you feel them burning into you from across the room, lingering every time you laugh at something wonwoo says or nudge soonyoung playfully. his expression is unreadable, but you know him too well to be fooled — he's pissed.

he barely spoke on the way home. barely even looked at you, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. now, in the quiet of his apartment, the tension is suffocating.

you lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him as he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the sofa.

"okay, what's wrong?" you ask, breaking the silence

mingyu scoffs, shaking his head. "youre really gonna ask me that?"

you blink. "yes?"

he turns to face you fully, his jaw clenched tight. "you ignored me all night."

you roll your eyes. "i did not—”

"oh, really?" he steps closer, towering over you. "you barely looked at me. barely talked to me. but you had no problem giving all your attention to wonwoo and soonyoung huh?"

you sigh. "mingyu, we were just catching up. you know that."

he crowds you against the counter, his body flush against yours, trapping you between him and the cold marble. his hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips.

"doesn't matter," he mutters. "you're mine."

his voice is low, rough with frustration, but there's something else there too — something desperate.

"are you jealous?" you tease, tilting your chin up to meet his darkened gaze.

his lips curl into something that's not quite a smile. "jealous?" he repeats, his hands sliding down, gripping the back of your thighs as he effortlessly lifts you onto the counter. "no. just reminding you who you belong to."

his mouth crashes onto yours, hot and demanding. he kisses you like he's starving, like he's been waiting all night to get his hands on you. his fingers press into your skin, possessive, firm, pulling you closer like he can't stand the idea of even an inch between you.

you gasp against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, swallowing every little sound you make. he kisses you dizzy — so hard, so deep, you forget why you were even arguing in the first place.

"gyu—" you murmur against his lips, breathless.

"no," he growls, pulling back just enough to look at you. "you don't get to say my name like that after ignoring me all night."

his hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up, fingers trailing over your bare skin.

"you don't get to sit there, laughing with my friends, touching them, when i'm right fucking there."

you shiver under his touch, a soft whimper slipping past your lips. he smirks.

"oh, you like this?" he teases, voice dropping into something sinful. his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "you like when i get jealous?"

you swallow, heat pooling in your stomach. "mingyu-"

he doesn't let you finish.

his hands grip your thighs, pulling you forward until you're flush against him. you can feel just how worked up he is, the hard press of him against your core, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"too bad," he murmurs against your throat, lips ghosting over your skin. "you don't get to play with my patience and get away with it."

his teeth sink into your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. his tongue follows, soothing the sting before he sucks, marking you.

"mine," he mutters against your skin. “yeah?”

all you can do is nod, but he doesn't give you a chance to argue anyways, doesn't give you a second to catch your breath before he's lifting you off the counter and carrying you to the bedroom.

"all fucking mine."

mingyu's grip is firm as he tosses you onto the bed. he towers over you, dark eyes drinking you in, chest heaving like he's barely holding himself together.

"take this off," he tugs at the bottom of your shirt, voice low.

you shiver at the authority in his tone but don't move fast enough for his liking. he clicks his tongue, stepping forward, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it over your head himself.

"too slow," he mutters, pushing you back against the pillows.

his hands are everywhere — tracing the curve of your waist, sliding down your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. his touch is possessive, claiming, as if he needs to erase the feeling of anyone else being near you tonight.

his mouth finds your neck again, kissing, sucking, nipping at the sensitive skin.

"you think i didn't notice the way wonwoo was looking at you?" he murmurs against your throat, his hands pushing your shorts down your legs. "you think i'm gonna let you act like that and not remind you who you fucking belong to?"

you barely have time to process before his fingers dip between your thighs, pressing against your core through your underwear.

"fuck," he groans, feeling the damp fabric. "you like this, don't you? like making me jealous."

you shake your head, breathless. "i wasn't—"

he presses harder, cutting you off with a sharp gasp. "don't lie to me."

his fingers push your underwear aside, sliding through your slick folds, teasing.

"mingyu, please—" your hand goes down to grab his wrist, to get him to hurry the fuck up, but he just moves it away, pinning it down next to your waist.

he smirks. "please what?"

you glare at him, but the way your hips buck into his touch betrays you. he chuckles, slipping one finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

"you always act so innocent," he murmurs, adding another finger, stretchiing you open. "but look at you. already soaking for me."

his fingers curl, hitting the perfect spot inside you, making you whimper. he loves it — loves the way you melt under his touch, the way you fall apart so easily for him.

"you ignored me all night," he reminds you, his thumb circling your clit. "so why should i be nice to you now?"

you don't answer, too lost in the pleasure, too caught up in the way his fingers move inside you with such precision.

he pulls his hand away suddenly, making you whine at the loss.

"turn around," he orders.

you hesitate for only a second before obeying, flipping onto your stomach. he grips your hips, pulling you onto your knees, your back arched, your body completely at his mercy.

"good girl," he praises, dragging his fingers down your spine before you hear the rustle of fabric as he undoes his belt, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through you

"you want me to fuck you?" he asks, voice rough with restraint.

you nod frantically. "yes, gyu— please—"

his hand comes down on your ass, a sharp smack that makes you jolt.

"say it properly."

you tremble, knowing better than to test his patience any further.

"please fuck me, mingyu," you whimper.

that's all he needs.

he thrusts into you in one smooth motion, filling you to the hilt, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"fuck," he groans, head dropping forward. "so tight — so fucking perfect for me."

he doesn't give you time to adjust, doesn't hold back. his hands grip your hips as he fucks into you, deep and rough, his frustration from earlier spilling into every movement.

the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingled with your gasps and his gritted curses.

"this is what you wanted, isn't it?" he pants, his grip tightening. "wanted me to lose my fucking mind over you?"

you can't answer — not when he's fucking you so good, so deep, your mind goes blank.

but he doesn't need a response. he can feel it. can feel the way you clench around him, the way your body trembles under his touch.

"never gonna do that again, hmm?" he mutters, leaning over you, pressing his chest to your back, his breath hot against your ear. "you belong to me."

his hand snakes around your front, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucks you harder.

"shit— gyu!" you gasp, your body tensing as you teeter on the edge.

"you’re gonna cum for me baby, yeah?" he growls. "now." the command sends you spiralling, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you fall apart beneath him.

mingyu isn't far behind — your orgasm pushes him over the edge, his grip turning bruising as he buries himself deep inside you, groaning your name.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as he stays inside you, unwilling to let go just yet.

finally, he pulls out, rolling you onto your back, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your swollen lips.

"mine," he murmurs again, softer this time.

you smile, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "yours."

and that's all he needed to hear.

[luvismenu]

their first time fucking —

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ extra ࣪ ִֶָ☾. written, nsfw

series m.list

♡ — permanent taglist: @https-mei @blaricee @blluee28 @jkvias @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @wnteraezz @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine @trinityxsope @taetaecatboy @butnotmontana @joyofbebbanburg @elinaki92 @sweetmimosa28

“are you sure about this?”

“yes, like i said, go slo— i told you to go slow jungkook!”

“oh fuck-”

“you ruined it!!!” you exclaim as you watch jungkook lose a game that the two of you have been playing for the last 30 minutes. well, he's the one playing and you're kind of.. helping.

you wanted to play, but he insisted he wanted to play alone because you're a 'nerd' and couldn't play as well as he could—which earned him a smack on the head from you.

“i told you, you have to wait until the monster appears,” you huff, and he slumps back into the couch.

“okay, expert, whatever,” he shrugs.

“yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes.

jungkook relaxes into the couch, his head thrown back as he groans, “where is this mother fu—”

ding!

“i think you got a text,” you say, glancing at his phone on the small table beside the couch.

“oh, you think so?” he mocks, and you glare him.

hoseok invited you for your usual study session. normally, you both would go to the library or the café he likes, which you didn't mind. today, though, he said he wanted to study at his frat house because it would just be the two of you.

and you couldn't miss a chance like that now would you?

but when you arrived, hoseok was nowhere to be found, and it was jungkook who let you in.

what a fun way to find out that all the fuckboys live in the same house.

jungkook told you that the other members were out doing what they usually do—things you'd rather not know about.

and now, you're just waiting for hoseok to come back.

“oh... okay,” jungkook says aloud as he sets his phone aside, turning to you.

“was it him? is he coming?” you ask.

“nah, he's getting wasted with the others, probably won't be back until.. i don't know, early morning i guess?” jungkook replies, “oh and i told him you were here. he said he's sorry that he forgot and told me to tell you to go home safe.”

you sulk at his words.

he notices.

“he... forgot?” you ask, your voice dropping.

“that's what he said. if you don't believe me, you can take my phone and see his texts.”

“no, no, i mean...” you sigh. “uh sorry, i should get going then.”

you stand up, grabbing your bag. but before you can take a step forward, jungkook speaks up.

“we can play another game if you want.”

you look at him. he holds up his controller, placing the second one beside him.

“together.”

“i am tired,” he groans, throwing the controller onto the couch as he walks toward the kitchen and you follow him.

“for a fuckboy, you have less stamina,” you joke.

“i was studying the whole day—”

you raise a brow.

“i know, yeah me, studying?? woah, impossible!!” he mocks himself, then continues more seriously, “trust me, i study.”

he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and closes it. “sometimes.”

you can't help but scoff a laugh.

“you don't have to explain yourself,” you say, crossing your arms as he takes a sip of the beer before responding.

“i know, but it's you i’m talking to, so—”

“what do you mean, me?”

he tilts his head. “aren't we friends?”

“yeah?”

he smiles. “then i gotta prove that i’m not as bad as you think i am.”

“i don't—”

“you do.”

you think for a second and sigh. “i do.”

that makes both of you chuckle.

“i think i should go now, it's getting late,” you tell jungkook, glancing at the clock on the wall. you walk toward the door, and he follows you.

“thank you for the ice cream,” you say, referring to the treat you had a few minutes ago.

“it's okay, it wasn't mine anyway,” he shrugs, and you gasp.

“what the fuck, why did you let me eat it then?”

“relax! it’s hoseok's. he wouldn't mind since he literally ditched you tonight,” he says, then realizes how it sounds as he sees the change in your expression. “i didn't mean—”

“no, it's okay. he did kind of ditch me, but it doesn't really matter. i can meet him some other time.” you smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

you're kinda rethinking about getting fucked by him anyway.

“right...” he trails off.

you both stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between you before he breaks it.

“so, i guess i'll text— mmph.” and you do it again. you cut him off just like when you first met him, but this time, the kiss lasts longer.

“w-wait,” he breathes out as he pulls back, staring at you. “you wanna fuck?”

“well, i don't know—”

“why did you kiss me then?” he asks

you look at him. why did you kiss him?

because hoseok isn't available? no.

because you're desperate? ... you're not sure.

“i don't know…” you finally say.

he opens his mouth to say something but stops.

“i just wanted to,” you add, and he's visibly surprised.

“is that wrong?” you continue, your eyes searching his.

jungkook's gaze softens. “no,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “but you don't like fuckboys and also we're friends—”

“yes, but tonight's different.” you say, reaching out to tug him back towards you, “you know, like a one time thing.”

he raises an eyebrow, his voice uncertain. “so, you wanna fuck and then wake up tomorrow like nothing happened? like we didn't do anything?”

you roll your eyes. “if you keep talking, we really won't do anything.”

“okay then final question, answer this with a yes or no” he says, his tone teasingly demanding, almost childish, and it makes you scoff a laugh.

“what?”

he smirks.

“wanna fuck?”

you smirk back.

“yes.”

───────── the wall ─────────

“o-oh fuck, jungkook, yes!” you moan out, your fingers tangled in his hair. his head is buried between your thighs, which are wrapped tightly around his neck. your hips are lifted, your back pressed against the wall as he stays on his knees.

he's been tongue-fucking you for a few minutes now, and you can feel yourself reaching the edge.

“mm, you taste so sweet.” he laps at your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth before releasing it with a pop. “i could eat this pretty cunt all day long.”

without warning, you cum on his mouth, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure course through you.

he swallows it all, his tongue still working on your sensitive pussy, making you squirm and whimper from the overstimulation.

slowly, he stands up as lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. he keeps you pressed against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he looks at you as you're gasping for air, that cocky grin forming on his lips.

“you want me forreal.”

“are you kidding me? right now?” you can't believe he's saying that after you just came so hard. but maybe it’s because of the orgasm, because instead of getting annoyed, you find yourself laughing a little.

“you came so much so i—” you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing onto his as you taste yourself, sucking on his tongue to shut him up.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“what's next, darling?”

───────── the floor ─────────

“t-that tickles,” you giggle when you feel jungkook softly rubbing your waist while his tongue laps at your right nipple.

“my tongue?” he asks, his eyes looking up at you as he moves to kiss your left nipple. you're both sprawled on the floor, his hands moving up and down your body as he hovers over you.

“your hands,” you gasp softly, taking in the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

“mmh,” he hums as his hands slide up, grabbing both of your breasts, squeezing them gently. you arch your back slightly when he squeezes them together, and he buries his face between them, licking and nipping at the soft flesh.

“can i suck your dick?” you say quickly, almost before thinking, and it makes jungkook pull back, looking at you in surprise. he clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“you wanna?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“why do you look so surprised? never got your dick sucked before?” you joke, a grin forming on your lips as you see the stunned look on his face.

he rolls his eyes at you, his lips curving into a smirk. it's funny because it's usually you who’s rolling your eyes at him.

“just making sure,”

───────── the couch ─────────

“y-you're doing so good, f-fuck,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you choke and drool on his cock. you're on your knees, gripping his thighs while he sits naked on the couch, his cock in your mouth.

his head falls back as he moans, and he bucks his hips up just slightly, pushing deeper into your throat.

he fucking loves this.

“mmfph-” you let out a muffled sound as your eyes start to water. he looks down at you, taking in the sight of you on your knees for him, your lips stretched around his length. reaching out, he wipes away a tear, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek, his touch oddly tender given the situation.

“that's it, darling. you're being such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath but enough for you to hear. “sucking my cock and looking at me like that... you look so fucking pretty.”

you pull back just slightly, taking a quick breath before diving right back in. your head bobs up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, taking him as deep as you can. each time you do, he lets out a low groan, his abs tightening.

“oh fuck, i'm close,” he grunts, his grip on your hair loosening and you pull back.

“can i-” he starts to ask, but you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and he curses under his breath.

he strokes himself a few times, his breath hitching, and then he releases, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue. you keep your mouth open, letting him see before swallowing it all, licking him clean until there's nothing left. once you're done, you pull away, giving him a proud smile.

he chuckles, shaking his head slightly, clearly amused by your behavior.

“you're not what i expected,”

───────── bed ─────────

“did you fuck anyone here before?” you ask as you look at jungkook between your legs. your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and your back pressed against the softness of his bed.

“no,” he says simply as he reaches over to grab a condom. “i don't bring girls here.”

“why not?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“because i'm never alone,” he explains, tearing the packet open with ease.

“but we're alone right now,” you point out, watching every one of his movements.

“i was supposed to go out with hoseok and the others, but i was tired, remember? so i stayed in. and honestly, i'm glad i did that.” he rolls the condom onto his length.

you smack his shoulder playfully, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“now, are you really sure about this?” he asks, his hands gently gripping your hips, holding you steady.

“for the tenth time, yes, i am,” you respond, “like i said, it’s a one-time thing,” you remind him.

he gives a small nod, then grabs his cock, rubbing the tip along your wet folds, making you whimper at the feeling.

“just fucking put it in,” you breathe out,

he grins, leaning down just a bit closer. “say please, darling,”

“if you think i’m gonna beg for it, think again,” you say, your eyes narrowing at him.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so bossy,” he mutters, and then, without further delay, he pushes his cock into you.

“f-fuck..” you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him stretching you. the fullness is almost overwhelming, but there's a hint of pleasure there, building slowly.

he pauses for a moment, his gaze searching your face. “you okay, darling?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“y-yeah,” you manage to say, breathing heavily. “it feels... bigger than i expected,” you admit, your cheeks flushing slightly.

his grin widens at that, and he starts to move, thrusting in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm. normally, you'd have some sassy comeback for that look on his face, but right now, it feels too good to say anything at all.

no wonder women love him.

you came once.

“fuck— nngh y-yes!!” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming as your body trembles around him.

“oh my go— i am— fuck!” jungkook moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as you ride him, your hips bouncing on his cock.

twice.

“you like that, hm? you like getting your pussy fucked from behind?” his voice is a growl as he grips your ass, pounding into you relentlessly. you’re on all fours, your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. tears well up at the edges of your eyes, the pleasure bordering on too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

make it a third time.

“fuck..”

jungkook groans as he collapses onto the bed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes closed. exhaustion drips from his voice as he mumbles, “you’re such a freak.”

you sit beside him, still naked, your fingers lightly tracing patterns over his chest. “one more round?” you suggest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, right.”

you tilt your head, raising a brow at him, your expression almost challenging.

his eyes widen just a bit. “oh, you’re serious?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

you nod, shrugging slightly. “how are you not tired?” he breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief.

“i can take some more, i guess,” you say casually, though the glint in your eyes betrays your eagerness.

“i am sorry to disappoint, darling, but i think i am done for tonight.” he lets out a tired sigh, and he sees you pout.

“woah,” he murmurs, watching the way your lips form into a cute little pout. it’s endearing. he’s seen so many sides of you tonight—and now... this.

cute and.. whiny?

“pleaseee, jungkook, one more time!!” you whine, your voice soft and pleading, making his heart skip a beat.

he blinks, like he’s just seeing a new part of you, something he never expected. maybe it’s the endorphins, or just the moment—whatever it is, this side of you is cute, almost innocent in your need.

he likes it.

“how about this,” he says, a grin forming on his lips, “we take a shower, and maybe we can go for another round there, hm?”

“shower sex?” you ask.

he nods.

“no, it’s unsafe,” you respond immediately, shaking your head.

he sighs dramatically, his grin widening. “well then, no more sex for tonight,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “maybe some other night.”

you roll your eyes, huffing. “you wish”

he chuckles, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close.

“i do.”

a/n: i hope it's not too confusing 😣

[miiyas]

MEND (soz, ma)

what do you do if toji snaps during an argument and breaks your favorite flower vase

wc: 978, angst to fluff, gn reader, tw is in the summary it’s nothing much, i lowk hate the way i wrote reader soz not soz, not proof read

toji does his best not to angry at you. he really, really does. but this argument has been squeezing his brain like a knotted muscle, something he couldn’t relax or sooth. and now, his usual patience has worn thin, and with a sudden, swift move, he shatters the flower vase closest to him, big arms taking up the whole proximity.

you flinch back, freezing with terror in your eyes as you watch water pool on the ground, hearing heavy breathing from your boyfriend. his eyes are covered up partly with his eyes and his big hands clutch on the nearest furniture, hunching his back over. not even a minute passes before he straightens his back and walks towards the small genkan, slipping his shoes on before leaving without another word, leaving you to deal with the scraps of glass and flower petals scattering on the ground.

toji doesn’t return until three and a half hours later, some time after midnight. the jingle of his pair of keys echo in the dark entryway, head hanging low as he watches himself slowly take off his shoes next to your smaller ones. he scoots them a little closer with the side of his feet, gazing down at the difference in style and size for a moment before stepping in. he brings a hand towards the wall to flick on the soft glow of the hallway lights, casting a shadowy path towards the kitchen. his other hand holds a small grocery bag gently rustling in his hands. it spills out with a bouquet (he did his best to find whatever store was open, staying for a good twenty minutes searching for pretty flowers that had even the smallest hint of your favorite color) and two new flower vases similar to the ones he had shattered.

fushiguro is already placing the bag down by the small, circular dining table, stripping the flowers out of its plastic with whatever quietness he could make and cuts the stems at the inch and angle you always scold him to cut it at. without any haste in his movement, he carefully arranges the two vases with whatever creative talent he had. he pulls back a chair and sits heavily, not minding the creak of it. no, he’s too focused on the two vases anyways. and how he should apologize. fuck, he should apologize right now. wake you up and literally go on his knees.

he leans back on the backrest, running a hand through his hair as his vision blurs and sees the world upside down. and just as he’s almost convinced that his eye sight has gotten worse, he sees your figure standing a few feet away from him. he stumbles in his seat before quickly getting on his feet, a hand gripping on the backrest as if he was about to pass out, needing it for support.

“… you okay ?” you whisper shyly, fingers twisting the hem of your sleepwear. toji notices the croak of your voice and the way your under eyes have puffed up and reddened, and he swallows a thick lump down his throat. despite it all, you’re still so kind to him. a pure angel.

“… yeah.”

“mm.”

you’re eyes flickered over towards the two vases, vibrant hues of flower petals shining beneath the light. your swallow back a shaky voice, but your remaking bottom lip doesn’t defend you.

“you bought new ones ..?”

“‘m so sorry, ma.”

your choke out a sob, bringing the back of your hand up to your eyes to wipe them gently, salty tears spilling out as you try to stop them, not wanting your eyes to be even puffer than they already were. toji catches the sight of your bandaged fingers and he takes a stride forward. than another. and another. and another until his big arms wrap around your smaller frame as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“‘m sorry, ma. promise ‘ya i am.” he can feel you shake your head on his chest, trying to speak out a sentence without stumbling on your words. you know he isn’t good with his words, he’s never been. toji’s too cocky for his own good, and sometimes, in times of need like this, it becomes his biggest enemy.

“‘m sorry, ‘ji, i was talking and talking and—”

“nah, don’worry. ‘like it when you yell at me, anyways.” he pulls back slightly to see your face, all red and snot dripping down your nose as you fanned your face with a hand. toji grins slightly, bringing a big, calloused hand on your face to wipe off the fat tears away from your cheeks. “deserved it, didn’t i ?”

“no ..”

“well, i think i did. i broke your favorite vase ‘n everything.” he bends his back slightly to press a gentle kiss on your cheekbone, tucking in your hair with unfamiliar gentleness. that gets a weak chuckle out of you, but it was good enough for toji.

“… maybe you did deserve it.”

“yeah, maybe.” another gentle kiss is placed on your cheek, quickly trying to reduce the amount of tears in your glossy eyes. “flowers aren’t gonna fix it, isn’t it.”

you wipe the drool of snot away from your nose and toji grabs the edge of his t-shirt and lifts it slightly to wipe away your wet cheeks, crunching down a frown as he sees you stain his shirt with your mucus.

“it fixed a bit of it.” you sniffle out, giving him a weak smile before glancing back at the bundle. the table is messy and the air smells like a greenery, but that’s okay. well, maybe not okay. you’ll give toji a good smack on the head that’ll leave a bump for a few days and ban him to the couch for a while, but this is a step.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny is desperately running away. Not from a robber, they’re not much of a threat to him anyways, but from a really intense Batman.

“Oh my ancients,” he muttered as he sprinted away from the dude swinging above him. “Can you please go away?! I already paid you back, dude!” Danny raised his voice at the swooping figure above him. He wished he could go ghost, but that would break his cover so fast as a “meta” or whatever.

“Stop running,” Batman landed in front of him, growl reverberating around them.

“Stop chasing me then! It’s bad manners!” And Danny’s from the midwest, so that’s an actual concern.

“How did you find Two-Face?” Batman loomed before stepping back when Danny’s shoulders curled inwards.

“Oh. Is that what this is all about?” Danny huffed. “It was self defense! And… the pun was too good to not, you know? Yeah, no, I had to. Prime opportunity.”

The cowl might hide it but Danny always knew when people are doing that nose pinch of exasperation. It’s a talent he carefully cultivated through shenanigans and puns.

Batman? Definitely inwardly pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How did you find him? Harvey Dent is a dangerous criminal.”

“In my defense,” Danny started, like a teenager caught guiltily shoving the entire cookie jar into his room instead of leaving some for the rest of the family. “He found me first. Well, no, he found the kids first. He started it!”

Batman somehow raised an eyebrow. How the hell does he do that?? The cowl covered the entire upper half of his face! Danny squinted at him. Is Batman a meta?

“Listen, I didn’t start it, but my sister sure as heck taught me how to end it. It’s not my fault Dent couldn’t handle a beat down. And I told you I was gonna pay you back for that one (1) Big Dent! If you wanted cash, you should have said so!”

“Hrm.”

Maybe it was the fancy gear. Maybe it was the pointy head thing. Batman reminded Danny way too much of Vlad and he got the ick.

“Okay, well, good talk, bye!” Danny ducked and ran, faster than he had before.

Batman grappled up and forward, trying to grab him. Danny, with years of dodge training under his belt and impeccable teenage instincts of gtfo, managed to dodge Batman’s reaching hands with a hollered “OPE!”

“Bye! See you never!” Danny ducked behind an alley and turned invisible as Batman swooped past.

When he was sure the vigilante was gone, he slowly faded into the visible spectrum.

“Jeez. Better warn Amy about this. Maybe I should hide in Crime Alley until this blows past.”

——

Gotham’s underbelly had a new tale to sling around their bars that week and a new demographic to be wary of.

The Terrors, the kiddie gang that ran perpendicular to Crime alley, was preyed on by Harvey Dent.

“What do you think you’re doing to them?!”

“Ahhhhhh!!!” Harvey screamed, flailing as a creature of shadows and claws- god damn those sharp ass claws- descended upon him, scarring it just one side but both sides of his very vulnerable face!

“Back the hell off of my kids, you fashion reject!”

As for Harvey… well, he’s developed an aversion to the smell of peanut butter and small children.

——

Batman, hunting down Danny because he’s worried about the endangered meta kid: you left me a Dent.

Danny, because he sees a vigilante bum rushing him: I have no cash! That’s the only way I can pay you back rn!

——

Batman, trying to lecture Danny about safety because he’s a worried batdad:

Danny: ew a rich stalker trying to be my dad!

@tricksterwitchkat can you tell I’ve been thinking about your pun for days? This is for you, thank you so much for that pun, it made my entire week.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

been loving the jack abbott fics soooo much!!!

A request for a potential fic about Jack. I was thinking something along the lines of his wife is maybe in the Peds/Psych department and comes to consult in the ER sometimes. The newbies don't know her as Jack's wife, but just the kind peds/Psych doc and then something something they discover she's Jack's wife and they're all like "how did that happen?"

thank uuu!!! this is a good one!!

The Other Dr Abbott

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x Wife!Reader

“Vitals are stable but he’s swinging between psychosis and charm like a damn metronome,” Santos muttered, watching the patient over the rim of her coffee cup.

Jack Abbott stood by the trauma bed, expression unreadable, arms crossed, as their patient—a shirtless man in his 30s with wild eyes and blood still drying under his nails—grinned up at the fluorescent lights like they were divine.

Dr. Whitaker explained the patient's history to Dr. Abbott, “He assaulted a pedestrian, bit a paramedic, and started quoting Shakespeare to the defibrillator. I think we’re out of our depth here.”

“Page psych,” Jack said without looking up.

“Already did,” Santos replied. “They said Dr. Abbot’s on call.”

Javadi looked up sharply. “But he’s standing right here.”

Jack sighed. “No. The other Dr. Abbot.”

Santos blinked. “There’s... two?”

Whitaker’s brows furrowed. “Is she your sister or something?”

But before they could interrogate further, the doors swung open.

In walked her—the hospital’s most requested psychiatrist. Elegant. Kind. Intimidating in the quietest way possible. She had a pen behind her ear, a folder under one arm, and a calm confidence that silenced the room the moment she entered.

“Hi,” she said gently. “I heard you needed psych?”

The patient lit up. “Ohhhh. There she is. Finally. Someone beautiful around here.”

Jack’s jaw ticked. “Watch it.”

The patient smirked. “What? Just saying. You all bring me the mean doctor with the wavey hair, but then this goddess walks in? Tell me you see it. She's the moon and you’re... I dunno. A pencil.”

Javadi bit her lip. Santos turned away, grinning.

The psychiatrist pulled on gloves with practiced grace. “I’m here to help, Mr. Reed. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Like I’ve seen heaven,” he said smoothly. “And heaven is you. Are you single?”

Jack stepped forward. “She’s married.”

The patient cocked his head, eyes narrowing like he suddenly understood something far more interesting. “Wait a second... no way.”

“What?” Santos asked.

The patient pointed at Jack, then her. “You’re married. You two. I see it now. That stare. The way you hovered when I called her beautiful? You’re totally married.”

Silence.

Then:

“She’s your wife?” Whitaker all but gasped, looking at Jack like he’d just revealed he was an alien.

Jack didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Santos’s mouth dropped open. “Hold on—how long has that been a thing?”

“Seven years,” she answered calmly, scribbling notes onto her chart.

Javadi stared. “You mean to tell me we’ve been working beside both of you this whole time and never knew?”

“We keep it professional,” she said, glancing at Jack, who was clearly trying to sink through the floor.

The patient beamed, delighted. “This is way better than when I saw a guy get tasered in the cafeteria.”

“Please sedate him,” Jack muttered.

His wife smirked. “Not yet. He’s lucid enough to spill tea.”

Santos laughed so hard she had to turn around. Whitaker looked like he was trying to solve an algebra problem with no numbers.

“But—but she’s so nice,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Jack said flatly. “And she married me anyway. Try not to think too hard about it.”

As she moved to the side of the bed, the patient winked at her. “I’m just saying... you could’ve done better.”

Jack leaned down, eyeing him coldly. “Say that again and I will intubate you awake.”

Everyone blinked.

The patient raised both hands. “Okay damn. The wave’s kinda hot now that I get the context.”

Javadi crossed her arms. “Well, now I get why he punched that radiologist last year for calling her sweetheart.”

Jack didn’t deny it.

[atsumutu]

zoro is not sure how much more of this he can take.

as the right hand man of an emperor, the swordsman had found himself in plenty of perilous predicaments, but never one quite like this. 

“okay, what do you think about this one?”

zoro gives you a once over. this wasn’t his area of expertise but he nods his head in approval anyways, just as he had done for all the previous iterations of your outfit. “looks nice.” 

“the other one goes better with the shoes though,” you hum, turning around to pick up your discarded garment before facing the swordsman again. “and it’s dressier. this is a bit too casual isn't it?” 

if he were a lesser man, zoro would have succumbed to this torture, possibly even stormed out of the room. instead, he takes a deep breath, opting for peace. he had survived worse. 

“i guess so.” he offers. 

“but i did want to wear my new earrings and they definitely don’t go with this...” your words trail off as you start reviewing your options again, getting lost in your thoughts.

groaning, zoro falls back onto the bed with a dull thud. unfazed by his dramatics, you start rummaging through your wardrobe in search of a better option. 

“okay okay, what about this one?” you ask, giving your boyfriend a little twirl. 

this time he doesnt even spare you a glance. “mhm, great.” 

“you’re not even looking.” you huff, lips puckered in dissatisfaction.

the pout is evident in your voice and zoro he knows he’s teetering on dangerous territory. lifting himself up to a sitting position, he rubs his face before peering up at you.

“yeah, looks good.”

unimpressed, you cross your arms together, shooting a glare at him. a life of piracy meant that date nights were few and far between so to say you were happy at the prospect of finally spending a romantic evening with your lover would be an understatement. but his lack of enthusiasm was really putting a damper on your mood.

“you’re not being very helpful.”

zoro’s eyebrows twitches. “i said it looks good, they all looked good. shit, what more do you want me to say?”

he regrets his words the second your arms fall to your sides in defeat, the eager spark in your eyes dimming.

sighing, the swordsman curses himself. taking a deep breath, he opens up his arms. “c’mere.”

hesitantly, you take a few steps towards him before his hands settle on your hips and drag you forward, thumbs softly stroking your sides despite his less than gentle handling. with him sat on the bed and you stood between his legs, he rests his forehead against your stomach. 

“sorry, baby. i shouldn't have snapped like that.”

the pet name doesn’t escape you, causing an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. it wasn’t all that common for zoro to be so verbally affectionate, being more of a show you he cares through his actions type of guy.

you sift your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch. “i just want to look good for you, zo.” you mumble, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice. 

the swordsman leans back sporting a subtle grin. “that’s one thing you never have to worry about.” 

“compliments won't get you out of this, mister.”

“yeah?” he challenges, hands sliding to the back of your thighs. “how about a kiss?” 

you pretend to think it over for a second before shaking your head in disinterest. “eh, what else you got?” 

zoro smirks, the grip on your thighs tightening as he settles them on either side of his hips, effectively placing you on his lap. “what was that? i haven’t heard any complaints before.” he growls, playfully nipping at your neck until you’re reduced to a fit of giggle. 

“fine, fine. but you’re paying for dinner.” 

“always do.” he scoffs. 

you lean forward, a sincere smile on your lips as you peck his. “you do. i appreciate it, a lot.” you say inbetween kisses.

zoro attempts a nonchalant shrug. “it’s nothing.”

“no really, zoro. you can be a real blockhead sometimes but you spoil me rotten, in your own ways.” 

“it’s whatever.” he grumbles, the tips of his ears reddening adorably, but there no chance to comment on it as he grabs your chin. “now, give me a proper kiss.”

[inseobts]

Captain’s Orders (Even the Silly Ones!)

luffy x gn!reader

because his captain’s orders are actually for the silliest reasons

words count: 1.2k

tags: fluffy, sfw, humour, gender neutral

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun hangs high over the Thousand Sunny, casting warm rays over the deck as the crew goes about their daily business. It’s a relatively peaceful day—no marines, no sea kings, no sudden ambushes. Just the sound of waves and seagulls filling the air.

Which means it’s the perfect time for your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, to start handing out ridiculous orders.

Standing at the ship’s railing, Luffy puffs out his chest and grins wide “Alright, everyone, listen up!” he announces, hands on his hips.

Zoro, who is in the middle of his nap, cracks one eye open “What now?”

Luffy ignores him and points dramatically at you “Y/N! As your captain, I order you to give me a kiss!”

You blink “That’s… not how captain’s orders work.”

“It is now!” he declares.

The crew collectively sighs. This is nothing new.

Robin chuckles behind her book “He does have the authority, technically.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway “Fine...” Stepping forward, you place a quick peck on his cheek. Luffy beams like he just won a fight against an admiral.

“That’s the spirit!” He turns to Sanji next “Oi, Sanji! Captain’s orders! Make a cake for y/n!”

Sanji flicks his cigarette “You do realize I would’ve done that anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun if it’s an order.” Luffy snickers.

Sanji sighs but heads to the kitchen nonetheless “At least he has good taste in orders.”

Nami crosses her arms, smirking “Luffy, shouldn’t you be giving real orders?”

Luffy tilts his head “These are real orders!”

“No, I mean actual captain stuff! You know, navigating, battle strategies, anything remotely useful?”

Luffy gasps as if she just suggested something absurd “That sounds boring.”

Franky walks past, adjusting his sunglasses “Honestly, I kinda respect it. Most captains would be barking orders about ship maintenance, but this guy? Priorities.”

“EXACTLY!” Luffy shouts, fist-pumping “See, Franky gets it!”

Chopper giggles “So what other ‘important’ orders do you have, Captain?”

Luffy taps his chin in thought before his eyes light up “Brook! Captain’s orders! Play a song so y/n and I can dance!”

Brook laughs “Yohoho! Of course, Captain!” He grabs his violin and starts playing a lively tune.

Luffy immediately grabs your hands, spinning you around the deck. “C’mon, y/n! This is fun, right?”

You laugh, stumbling slightly as he twirls you “Okay, okay, but you’re supposed to let me lead sometimes!”

“Nope! Captain’s orders—I get to lead the dance!”

Zoro groans, rubbing his temple “I swear, this idiot is impossible.”

Usopp sighs, sitting on a barrel “I don’t know why we even act surprised anymore. Hey Zoro, wanna dance?”

The ridiculousness continues for the rest of the day.

At dinner, Luffy slams his hand on the table “Captain’s orders! Everyone eats dessert first!”

Nami glares at him “Luffy, you always eat dessert first since y/n told you it's their favourite”

“Yeah, but now it’s an order!” He grins before stuffing his face with cake.

Later, when you’re sitting at the bow of the ship enjoying the breeze, Luffy plops down beside you and rests his head on your lap. He looks up at you with that signature playful grin “Hey, y/n”

“Hm?”

“Captain’s orders.” He pokes your cheek “Be happy forever.”

Your heart melts a little at that one.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair “Aye aye, Captain.”

The days pass with Luffy continuing to abuse his “captain’s orders” for the silliest reasons. At this point, the crew has learned to just roll with it—or, in Zoro’s case, ignore it completely.

Today, the Sunny is gliding across calm waters, and the sun is blazing. Too hot to train, too hot to run around, and too hot to do anything productive. Everyone is lazing around in the shade, enjoying a rare, peaceful afternoon.

Then, Luffy stands up suddenly from where he’s been sprawled out on the deck “ALRIGHT, CREW! NEW CAPTAIN’S ORDERS!”

The reactions are immediate.

Zoro groans, rolling over onto his side to pretend he’s asleep. Nami rubs her temples like she already has a headache. Sanji exhales a long puff of smoke. Usopp leans back against the railing, looking mildly concerned.

You sit up from your spot beside him “What is it this time?”

Luffy points dramatically at the sky “It’s too hot. Captain’s orders—everyone in the water!”

Robin raises a brow over her book “That’s just called going for a swim, Luffy.”

“Yeah, but this way, it’s official,” he argues.

Franky grins “Well, can’t argue with that. LET’S GOOOO!” He cannonballs straight into the sea, sending a massive splash over the deck.

Brook laughs “Ah, I’d love to join, but I’ll drown!”

“Just float in a barrel or something!” Usopp suggests.

Chopper looks hesitant “I guess I could use a break…”

“I will not be getting my hair wet” Nami says firmly.

Sanji is already setting out towels “I’ll get drinks ready for when you guys get back.”

Luffy turns to you and grins “Y/N! Captain’s orders—you have to jump in with me!”

You shake your head with a laugh “Luffy, you can’t swim.”

“That’s why you’re coming with me!” Before you can argue, he grabs your hand and leaps off the ship, taking you down with him.

The water is a refreshing shock against your skin. When you surface, gasping, Luffy is already grinning like a fool “See? This is fun, right?”

You splash water at him “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it.” He laughs, flailing his arms to stay afloat “Now hurry up, I’m gonna drown.”

You sigh but swim over, letting him cling to you like a koala.

“Oi, Luffy, stop abusing y/n as a flotation device” Usopp calls from the deck.

“It’s fine. Captain’s orders” Luffy replies smugly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You shake your head but smile, letting him hold on.

That night, after dinner, the crew is gathered on the deck under the stars. The sea is calm, and Brook is playing a gentle tune on his violin. It’s peaceful—until Luffy decides to disrupt it.

“Captain’s orders!” he suddenly announces “We’re having a cuddle pile!”

A collective groan echoes around the deck.

“No way in hell” Zoro says immediately.

Nami pinches the bridge of her nose “Luffy, not every order has to be something dumb.”

“Yes, it does” he insists. Then he turns to you with a grin “C’mon, y/n! Captain’s orders—you have to cuddle me!”

You sigh, already used to this, and pull him down beside you. He immediately wraps his arms around you like an octopus.

Robin chuckles “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in following this order.” She sits down beside Nami, and soon, Chopper is curling up between them.

Brook lies down on the deck “I have no body heat, but I’ll participate in spirit.”

Usopp grumbles, but even he leans against Franky.

Zoro, of course, remains at a distance with his arms crossed.

Luffy sighs happily, nuzzling into your shoulder “See? Best captain’s order ever.”

You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it” he repeats, grinning up at you.

You roll your eyes but kiss his forehead “Yeah, yeah. Captain’s orders.”

[lightseoul]

IN THE DARK (1.8k)

a/n. thought about taking a break from my 2k milestone event by writing something that felt very personal to me. i was supposed to rest today but this sort of just...happened. i hope y'all like it.

cw. afab!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up characters, themes of body image issues, mentions of weight gain, minor nsfw references, basically just some hurt/comfort goodness

you’re in the middle of re-scooping your boobs into what has become a tiny ass tank top when a soft array of knocks echoes from the door.

“babe? are you almost done?”

alarmed, you quickly glance at the mirror. it only takes you one look at your reflection to decide that nope—you’re definitely not going with this one—before you swiftly tug it off your body.

at least, you try to do so.

the fabric catches on the areas of your torso that have noticeably gotten fuller in the course of the past year and a half. you huff in frustration as you squirm, desperate to have what used to be your favorite halter top off you.

another round of knocks comes again.

“babe? you okay in there?”

“yeah!” you manage to choke out, finally out of that damned material. “don’t come in—i’m not decent.”

the moment you say those words, you instantly know what the reaction would be.

“hah?” comes his incredulous, borderline offended reply. “the fuck do you mean ‘you’re not decent’?”

scanning the interior of your small walk-in closet, you feel the panic rise in your throat until your eyes land on the pajamas and baggy t-shirt you were wearing before you started trying out outfits for the reunion you were having with the class of 1a tonight.

“i’m just in my underwear,” you retort, frantically putting back on the much more forgiving articles.

“i think i’ve seen you with much less than that, dumbass.”

“okay,” you call out, ignoring his comment and slightly winded from your efforts, “you can come in now!”

as if on cue, the door slowly opens, and in comes bakugou, who’s already dressed in a crisp, black button-down and straight-legged pants, a suspicious glint in his eyes as they dart across the room before landing on you.

and when they do, his lips almost instantly form into a frown.

“i thought you were getting changed?”

you feel yourself flame in embarrassment despite yourself.

“yeah, well…” you wrack your brain for a not-so-incriminating excuse, “none of the outfits i was envisioning are working.”

well, that is the truth, anyway.

it’s just not necessarily complete.

“okay…” he drawls out, entirely unconvinced. “why’d you put your pajamas back on, though? it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked or some shit.”

“uh—” you pause, before finally settling with: “—it’s just that i’m wearing ugly panties, is all. real granny, the-type-you-wear-on-your-period kinda stuff.”

bakugou only stares at you. “since when have you cared about me seeing that?”

you are not about to say that was a shitty excuse you pulled from your ass just now.

so instead, you turn your back against him and start riffling through the racks of clothes. “how ‘bout you help me pick out what to wear for tonight, huh, kats?”

a few moments of silence pass before you finally hear a quiet ‘sure’—which is immediately followed by him stepping forward and occupying the space beside you.

he goes through the options himself before his hands land on the white, off-shoulder peplum blouse you got around a year ago. taking it by the hanger, he lifts it on display.

“how ‘bout this?”

you immediately shake your head. “those make my arms look extra big.”

at that, bakugou’s face contorts in confusion. “what? no, they don’t.”

you chuckle dryly, wondering why you’re even having this conversation.

you coax the shirt from his grip and place it back where he pulled it from. “pick another one.”

bakugou doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him side-eyeing you more than anything. still, he relents, and picks out a sky-blue sleeveless high-neck top you copped from your go-to store a few months ago.

“i remember you looked really good in this,” he offers.

you hum absentmindedly at his comment, studying the spandex-like material. ultimately, though, you shake your head.

“that one hugs me in all the wrong places. really emphasizes my midriff.”

“but—”

“can you choose another one, please?”

the man huffs in what you think is disgruntlement but follows suit anyway. once again, he traces his hand along the articles of clothing for a minute until they finally stop at what used to be your favorite sleeveless, v-neck black crop top.

grinning, he pulls it out.

“you’ve got to wear this.”

at the sight of it, you pull your lips into a tight line. “…i don’t know, babe.”

“seriously?” he asks, looking dangerously close to insulted. “this one makes your boobs look absolutely incredible.”

“katsuki!”

“what? i’m not wrong, am i?”

for a second, you let yourself imagine what you would look like in that rather skimpy top. and for a brief moment, you actually believe it’ll work out.

that is until you remember you’re imagining the you from way back when, and the last time you put it on a few weeks ago, you thought you looked fucking horrendous.

with a heavy sigh and a shake of your head, you take the clothing from his hand so you can return it to the rack.

at least, you try to, because bakugou doesn’t let you.

when you tug again and his grip tightens, you finally look up at the man, confused.

“wha—”

“we need to talk.”

almost instantly, your stomach drops in anticipatory dread.

“oh?” you try to answer nonchalantly, trying to take the item again from his hold. thankfully, this time he lets go, but his serious gaze that’s fixed on you remains unyielding.

“oh? that’s all you have to say?”

you turn away from him, moving to hang it back on the cabinet. “i don’t think there’s time for that right now, kats.”

to further emphasize your point, you glance down at your watch, which now reads 6:17 pm.

fuck.

you’re already going to be late.

you think about it for a beat before finally coming to a conclusion and shifting to face him again.

“i think you should just go ahead.”

bakugo gapes at you like you just told him the sky was green. “what?”

“we’re already running late and i haven’t even done my makeup, let alone picked out what to wear,” you reason.

“you really think i even want to go to this stupid party?” he retorts right back. “you’re the only one who makes them bearable. to hell with this going alone shit.”

“but—”

“not happening, babe.”

you let out a heavy exhale, struggling to tamp down the disappointment at your failed attempt to get out of the situation.

neither of you says anything for what feels like minutes before bakugou finally breaks the monotonous quiet.

“…can i ask you something?”

his voice is so uncharacteristically soft that you can’t help but look up at him despite the visceral urge to avoid his gaze, anticipatory anxiety now churning in your gut at the question.

the man, though, apparently takes your silence as a yes, because he continues.

and you barely manage to stop yourself from choking on your spit when he does.

“why do we only have sex in the dark?”

that was not what you were expecting him to say.

“e-excuse me?”

bakugou moves to rub the back of his neck, perhaps feeling sheepish at his blunt query.

but he presses on.

“it’s just that i remember it wasn’t always like this. when we first started getting intimate with each other, you didn’t mind when the lights were on or if the curtains weren’t drawn. but then…”

“my preferences simply changed,” you interject, scared of letting him continue.

“really?” he asks, but the question seems more rhetorical than not. “because if you were to ask me, i’m starting to think…maybe, just maybe—and i could be wrong about this—you don’t want to be perceived.”

a long pause.

“baby?” comes bakugou’s worried voice when you don’t reply. “did i hurt you?”

you shake your head, although your eyes are trained downcast to your socked feet, unable to meet his gaze.

“say something, please.”

at his request, you finally look up, trying to blink away the tears that are pooling in your eyes before he notices.

but it’s either you don’t do it fast enough, or he’s just insanely perceptive, because bakugou manages to catch sight of it, eyes widening the second he does.

“shit, i’m so—”

“it’s okay!” you chuckle, waving him off. you take the hand that was just reaching out to wipe the tears away and encase it with yours. you chance a glance at the man, who’s now peering at you guiltily.

“i really didn’t mean to hurt you,” he starts again, “i just wanted to finally talk about it because—”

“i know, i know,” you cut him off before he can ramble any further. “don’t worry, babe. i’m not angry at you. it’s just…”

you take a shaky inhale.

“…it’s just that it’s been so hard, you know? i really try not to dwell on it because most of it is beyond my control, but…whenever i try on a dress that used to fit me so well, or when i look at my reflection, or especially when i’m bare for you to see and i feel your eyes roving over my body—it just hits me all over again.

“the fact that this is how i look like now. and i hate it.”

you look at bakugou, who’s staring at you so intently with a pained expression on his face.

“you don’t have to say anything,” you quickly add on. “i know this is kind of a lot to take in.”

“yeah—no, it’s just that i’m angry at myself for ever making you feel judged,” he huffs, and you can practically hear the frustration seeping out from his tone.

he tightens his hold on your hand.

“believe me, baby, when i say that when i look at you all so vulnerable like that, it’s never me fucking judging you. i can’t even—

“i can’t even begin to describe how much i love your body. every time i see even just a sliver of what’s underneath your clothes i get so hard i—”

you snort.

“—laugh all you want, but it’s true. it’s fucking embarrassing sometimes, how much my body reacts to seeing yours, but it’s true.”

you shoot him a sad, albeit grateful smile, to which he responds by squeezing your hand.

“look, i know i can’t change how you feel about your body, and i understand that you want to look differently. but i also do know that i can’t just stand here and watch you tear yourself apart like that. you don’t deserve any of that, you fucking hear me?”

you don’t even know where to start with your reply, so you opt to just nod wordlessly instead.

“good,” he grunts. “i’m just here to support you, whatever you wanna do. you already know that i think you’re beautiful the way you are right now, but if you want to do something or work towards a certain goal, i’ll be here.

“i know a thing or two about fitness, if you’re interested in exploring that.”

“really?” you beam at him, already feeling so light. “you’ll really help me with that?”

at that, bakugou scoffs. “‘course i will, dummy. actually…”

you peer at him curiously. “actually, what?”

he grins at you, the mood suddenly taking a mischievous turn.

“…i actually know of a certain cardio activity i wanna do right now, if you’re open to that.”

my replies, reblogs, and asks are open if you wanna talk about stuff <3 sending hugs to you!