#as if it was nothing more than a nickname he's supposed to grow out of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milliesfishes · 4 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎDon't Worry Darling౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, childbirth, angst, murder, revenge pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: yours and coriolanus' daughter is kidnapped author’s note: requested by a very lovely anon- I didn't post with the ask because it has the plot in it, but I hope you know who you are and I hope you enjoy! much love, thank you for sending this in <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

He would kill for you.

That wasn't nothing. It was everything he would do for you summed up in five little words. All one syllable. Forming a threat to any who wronged you.

Coriolanus knew his soul was stained, tainted by the wrongdoings of his past, no matter how justified they were in his survival. Awful or not, he had made it this far, and now he had you. So how bad had it been, really?

You were a heart-shaped, lace-trimmed, sugar-filled surprise whom he'd fallen head over heels for instantly. How was he expected to resist such a treasure, a jewel in the worn crown of the Capitol?

No, you were perfect. And he knew he didn't deserve you. That didn't stop him from courting you, however, from making you promises with sweet kisses in tow. It certainly didn't stop him from spoiling you with both pleasure and pretty things, or from sliding an engagement ring onto your finger.

You were the sparkle in his eye, the shine to his reputation. But more than that, you were his love, his darling. Coriolanus had the best of everything, and his wife was absolutely no exception. You were the best of his best.

When you became pregnant, he was absolutely doting, making a point to spoil you even more than before if that was possible. His hands barely left you, except to reach for his credit card. Being the president, he had leeway to take as much time off of work as he needed to be by your side.

Coriolanus coddled your growing belly, spooning you every night with his arms wrapped protectively around it. He cocooned you with his affection and you made no move to break out of it.

You glowed under the effect of pregnancy, just as he knew you would. It filled him with a sense of pride, seeing you all round and full of his child. It was a sign that you were purely, undoubtedly his.

Childbirth very nearly sent him into a frenzy. Here, nature was taking control. Which meant he had none. Memories and thoughts of his dear departed mother flashed through his mind, and he tried not to let his fear show as he held your hand, smoothing sweaty hair from your face and telling you how well you were doing.

It scared him because his money was useless here.

Regal even as you were birthing his child, you spoke meekly, trying not to squeeze his hand too hard in fear of hurting him. He wanted you to break his hand if you needed to, whatever would alleviate your pain. But no, you were soft and kind even in agony.

When your baby girl slid into the world, he sighed in relief, even if only because your suffering was over. And as the doctor handed her to you, he could see tears shining like pearls on your face. There was that familiar pride. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment. "You're amazing," he muttered against your skin.

Then he saw his daughter fully for the first time. Coriolanus didn't believe in love at first sight. But now here he was, staring at his little daughter swaddled in your arms. You made a pretty picture. His girls.

Right then and there, his very first vow was remedied. There were two people he'd kill for now.

Penelope Snow was his purest love, held at equal status with you. Affectionately nicknamed 'Penny', she was the absolute apple of his eye. You always said she looked more like Coriolanus, and he supposed he could see it in her blonde hair and blue eyes. But when he really studied her, all he could see was your ethereal beauty reflected in his daughter.

Although Penny was an absolute darling who loved all she met, she was a daddy's girl through and through. He held her whenever he could, bouncing her on his knee and winding a hand through her blonde curls.

Often you would walk in on the sight of him in his study, Penny sleepy against his chest while he dotted i's and crossed t's on some proposal. He'd look up, smiling tiredly and patting his daughter's side. It was heartwarming- how much he loved her.

Because he was a pushover when it came to her, Coriolanus spoiled Penny beyond anything. You worried to him that she'd become some sort of monster because of it, but she remained sweet, always adorably thanking her daddy when he gave her something new. That only encouraged him more.

Penny loved walking in the garden with her parents, playing with her dolls, and reading. You made a point not to let her spend too much time with a nanny, conscious of the way the children of other socialites in your circles clung to their caretakers in place of their parents. When you brought up this concern to Coriolanus, he agreed, carving out time in his schedule to spend as a family.

Not only did he adore Penny, he also adored you as a mother. It filled him with joy to witness you with your daughter, and he let you know in every way possible. He held you closer than ever, hands wandering past your hips, whispering how much he loved you, how in awe he was of you.

It was a wonder you didn't fall pregnant again sooner. Penny was three when you received word from the doctor.

Of course, you both were overjoyed, and thus began his pregnancy routine again. He felt he'd never been happier than now, with his beautiful daughter and enchanting wife. The three of you were splashed across every tabloid in the Capitol. The envy of everyone, Panem's model picture-perfect family.

That was just the way he wanted it.

Coriolanus watched you adjust your earrings in the mirror, silently admiring you from behind. You caught his eye in the mirror, a lovely smile overtaking you. "Tonight, I'm unsure which part of me you're looking at."

When you stood, he was immediately encircling his arms around you, kissing your forehead twice. "All of you. Every bit. You're beautiful."

"Not too much?" you fussed with your dress as you said it, smoothing the sheer red fabric.

"Perfect," he nodded, holding your face in his hands and pressing his lips to your hairline. "You're absolutely ravishing, my love."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. Reaching your delicate hands up, you smoothed his collar, fixing his tie. "You look so handsome," you said softly, leaning up to kiss him. He didn't care if you got lipstick on his mouth.

"Daddy?" Penny poked her head in, her face lighting up when she saw the both of you. She ran in, burying her little face into Coriolanus' knee. He scooped her up, balancing her on his hip and smiling.

"Isn't Mama pretty?" he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Mama's so pretty," she said with all the sincerity of a child.

You cooed, kissing her cheek and smoothing her hair. "My baby."

Coriolanus gave you a little frown. "We can't take her with us?"

"Oh, she'd be tired halfway through," you slid your arm around his neck, and he wrapped his free one around your waist. "These things go far past bedtime." You stroked your daughter's cheek for a moment. "Penny, give Daddy a kiss so we can get going."

She pressed her lips to Coriolanus' cheek, and he set her down with one last squeeze before she ran off to find her nanny.

Attention turned fully back to you; he thumbed a strand of your hair. "Shall we?"

You nodded, and he gave you a quick kiss before offering you his arm. He helped you down the stairs and into the car. Even though you were in the early stages of pregnancy, that didn't stop him from being overprotective.

The gala was typical of those kinds of events- champagne and allied conversation. It wasn't anything too precarious- you stayed on his arm sipping sparkling cider, playing the diplomatic First Lady wonderfully as you always did.

He could see you getting tired though, about three hours in. Parting ways with the Head Gamemaker, he turned to you, fingers running up and down your waist gently. "Would you like to-"

There was a sharp noise like shattering glass. Coriolanus immediately ducked, bringing you down with him to the floor. Gunshots. Thinking only of you and the baby, Coriolanus held your body close to his, arms protectively wrapped around you, his back facing the direction of the sound.

A hand on his shoulder made him look up, and he saw one of the Peacekeepers gesturing to him. "To the safe room, sir. You and your wife."

Coriolanus stood immediately, gathering you in his arms. You wouldn't be able to run in heels. He carried you hurriedly to where the Peacekeeper directed them, where a few more security and several partygoers were hiding away. A chair was produced, and he set you down, checking to see if you were okay.

Smoothing your hair, he reassured you that everything would be okay. The two of you were safe now. You slid a hand over your belly, inhaling nervously. "How long do you think we'll be here? I'm worried about Penny."

He ran a soothing hand down your face, stroking your cheek. "Penny's fine, sweetheart. She's safe back at the house. It'll be okay."

But still you worried, insisting something didn't feel right. Coriolanus did his best to keep you calm, kneeling at your side and holding your hand and reminding you to breathe steady.

It was nearly an hour later that he noticed the Peacekeepers speaking amongst themselves, casting glances back at them occasionally. He perked up when one started to walk over, his face serious.

Coriolanus stood to meet him, not letting go of your hand. "Has the shooter been apprehended?"

"Yes," the man started, and Coriolanus felt you stand up beside him, squeezing his hand. "But there's been other news."

"What happened?" you asked softly, and Coriolanus wound his arm around your waist, hand slightly over your belly. You touched that hand with your adjacent one, twining your fingers together again.

The man looked grim, and Coriolanus' hold tightened on you. "Sir, your daughter...she's been taken."

You fainted. As soon as the words left his mouth, you crumpled in Coriolanus' arms, and he held on tight, kneeling on the ground and saying your name frantically. He looked up at the bystanders. "Someone get her water!"

Once he heard footsteps hurrying away, he looked back up at the man, face incredulous. "What do you mean, taken?"

He nodded solemnly. "Not fifteen minutes ago. Her caretaker was held at gunpoint, and when she refused to relinquish your child, she was shot. And then they took her. We're trying to figure out where."

"Send every Peacekeeper you can afford," Coriolanus snapped, looking up at the young man. It was funny in a way. He'd once been in that position and now he was giving orders. The thought made his heart soften a bit. "Leave no stone unturned. Find her."

The man saluted and went to tell his comrades. Coriolanus turned his attentions back to you, stroking your cheek and breathing in relief when your eyes fluttered open. He managed a small smile. "Sweetheart...how are you feeling?"

"They took Penny?" you choked, trying to sit up, and he supported you with an arm around your back.

"We're going to find her," he assured, taking the water retrieved by someone nearby and holding it to your lips. "It's going to be okay. She'll be okay."

"You were saying we should bring her...and I said no..." you panicked, your breathing growing unsteady. Coriolanus shook his head, pressing your face to his chest.

"This is not your fault," he whispered into your hair, aware of all eyes on you. "Never. It could never be your fault. They're going to find our daughter. I promise."

You looked up at that. Coriolanus had never made you a promise he couldn't keep, and the certainty in his voice calmed you. He kissed your temple, had you drink more water, and thus began the wait.

It was agony, worrying about his daughter while trying to keep you stable. His mind wandered to the worst possible conclusions, horrible images appearing before his eyes. He waved them off, praying you weren't wondering the same things.

Eventually, the Peacekeepers deemed it safe for everyone to go home. You remained worried, crying softly into Coriolanus' shoulder as he carried you up the stairs into the bedroom. He called for a sleep aid, one of your pregnancy ones, in an attempt for you to get some rest.

The pill kicked in, and he sat beside you, your head in his lap. He idly stroked your hair, anxiety not letting him sleep. The future's possibilities scared him more than anything had before. This is what he fought for. His family, the one thing he wanted to protect more than anything. If he couldn't keep you and your daughter safe, what kind of man was he? What kind of husband? What kind of father?

The phone beside the bed rang, and Coriolanus picked it up instantly as not to disturb you. "What did you find?"

As the person on the other end spoke, his heart beat hopefully. He gave an order in response to the information, and then made a call to send the car to the front. He'd be down in a moment.

Looking down at you, a sense of dread filled him. He didn't want to leave you here, so vulnerable and emotional, especially in your delicate condition. With that in mind, he picked up the phone once more, making a final call.

"...Tigris? You heard the news?" he listened to her for a moment. "Would you come over for a little while? Just until I get back. I don't want to leave her alone...thank you."

Hanging up, he resumed stroking his fingers through your hair, wanting to wake you up and tell you what he was about to do.

But it would only send you into further hysterics. For he'd never told you of that first vow.

Getting out of the car, Coriolanus squinted at the concrete building hidden under the guise of darkness. He looked at the nearby Peacekeeper, who nodded.

Moving swiftly, Coriolanus allowed them to direct him up the stairs, past the freshly murdered bodies splayed bloody across the ground all the way to the top. He barely paid them any mind. The only thing on his mind was Penny.

When he reached the door to the room, there were already several soldiers standing by, guns raised. He could hear noises from the inside, one of which he recognized as his daughter's crying.

The sound spurred him on, and he gave a signaling nod, triggering the head Peacekeeper to kick the door down, a line of his men trailing behind him and shouting things at Penny's captors.

Coriolanus waited a moment before walking in. He surveyed the scene coldly, looking at the men pushed against the wall by the soldiers, held at gunpoint. Then his eyes found Penny. His baby girl.

Messy hair, dusty clothes, scratches on her arms, she was a sorry sight. Tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks, and his heart broke to see it. He went to her, kneeling in front of the chair where she was tied up and undoing the binds. She sniffled, her chin wobbling. "Daddy...Daddy..."

"Shh, princess." He got the ropes undone, scooping her into his arms and standing up. She leaned her face against his shoulder, one ear against it, and he rubbed her back. Since he was still in his dress shirt from the gala, she mussed his collar with tears, but he couldn't care less. "Daddy's here...Daddy's got you."

Over her shoulder, he gave the head Peacekeeper a look, and then turned back to his daughter. "Close your eyes, Penny. It's going to be very loud for a minute but then we're going to go home."

She nodded into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut. He steadied one hand over her uncovered ear, and the chaos began.

A dozen fired shots sounded, and Penny winced, but her eyes stayed closed. He dropped a kiss to her hair. She still smelled like the flowery lotion you put on after her baths to keep her skin smooth.

Once the shooting was over, he uncovered her ear, whispering that it was okay, she was safe. She looked up at him with that same sweet smile, despite the fact that she'd been through who knows what. His happy girl.

Then there was another shot. He heard Penny's scream before his brain registered what had happened. It was only when he felt the blood leaking onto his arm that he realized.

Penny was crying, her sobs smashing what was left of his heart. Her arm was bleeding where the bullet had grazed her. The man who'd fired the gun was immediately tackled by a nearby Peacekeeper, who beat him unconscious.

Coriolanus held Penny tight to him, trying to hush her. "Shh, princess, it's okay. You're going to be okay. I've got you. Daddy's got you. Don't worry, baby."

He whispered this to her all the way down the stairs, into the car, and through the ride to the hospital, but she couldn't be calmed. Not that he blamed her-it must have hurt like hell.

It wasn't a problem getting her into a room. The doctors worked quickly, telling him the bullet wasn't lodged in her little arm, that it just needed to be taped up and rested. Still, Penny squirmed when they took bloodwork, cried some more when they stuck an IV in her, and clung to Coriolanus when they came to clean the wound.

He held her through it, ordering the doctors to do everything as gently as possible. She was a three-year-old for heaven's sake.

It was all over soon, not as quickly as he'd have liked, but still. A nurse gave Penny some melatonin, and she was out like a light, sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. He sat beside her, an arm around her sleeping form. Your daughter was safe. That was all that mattered.

Except for one thing.

The door of the car shut behind Coriolanus, and he looked chillingly up at the familiar concrete structure. Once this was all over, he'd have it burned. This place wouldn't taunt his family with its existence any more.

He took his time walking up the stairs. They would have seen that he was here by now, and he wanted to make his captor squirm.

As he casually ascended, his mind dwelled on the events of yesterday. You had come running into the room, still in your beautiful dress from earlier, makeup slightly smudged, but still his stunning wife. Like a magnet you'd been drawn to your baby girl, joining him on the bed and weeping out of pure relief and exhaustion.

Coriolanus had put his arms around both of you, holding his girls tight as you stroked Penny's hair, asking him questions he'd given smooth answers to.

Yes, he'd found her. No, that wasn't his own blood on his shirt. She'd been very scared, but she was going to be okay.

He knew she wouldn't remember most of what happened, thank goodness. The doctor had spoken of memory loss as a trauma response, and he was grateful for it. Not just for Penny's sake, but for yours. You didn't need to know the extent of what had happened that night.

He reached the top floor. Now he was thinking of that sweet, sweet image of you and Penny in his arms, both sleeping against his chest. If he could've commissioned a portrait right then and there he would have.

Penny was safe. Your unborn child was safe. You were safe. And he intended to keep it that way. His status as a husband and father was duly maintained.

There was just one more thing to take care of.

Pausing at the door, he listened for a moment to the groans coming from inside. Pathetic. Deciding he was tired of waiting, Coriolanus pushed the door open, meeting the eyes of the man tied up in the middle of the room, just as his daughter had been twenty-four hours prior.

It was him. The man who'd shot Penny.

The Peacekeeper standing nearby took Coriolanus' suit jacket and handed him his pistol. Rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, he stared the man dead in the eye. "I assume you've had time to think about the offer."

Glaring up at him, the man spat at his feet. "I'd sooner die."

"You will." Coriolanus didn't flinch. "Either you walk out of here with a sense of dignity and disappear or you never walk out of here with a shot through your head."

To his hidden horror, the man's lips twisted in a wry grin. It was disgusting to behold. "Ain't doin' nothin'. I'll get out. And next time it won't just be your daughter. It'll be that bitch you call a wife-"

Coriolanus pulled the trigger before he could finish. He was tired of listening, of being patient. And after insulting his wife, well, he'd signed his own death warrant.

Handing the pistol back to the Peacekeeper, Coriolanus turned his back to the body, putting his suit jacket back on. Maybe on the way home he'd stop and get you flowers. Yes, that'd be just the thing. And something for Penny too. A new book, perhaps, one of the fairy tale ones she loved so much.

Tonight, he'd erase this man's memory from his mind. He'd tuck Penny in and read her new book out loud as she fell asleep. He'd go to you and pamper you and make love to you as slowly and softly as you wanted. And then he'd sleep soundly knowing his promise had been and would continue to be fulfilled.

It was a kick in the face to anyone who'd ever doubted him.

He would kill for you.

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papaya-twinks · 2 months ago

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just an assistant - l.n - part.idk

Warnings: Smut, 18+, fingering, handjob (kinda), swearing, degradation

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

🎀

A/N - coz y’all seemed to like this, I’ve decided to continue it.

Lando seemed to have a remarkable way of putting himself down, even if he had achieved the best result humanly possible. Such as when he secured pole position yesterday and he still looked downcast.

Somehow, neither of you had said anything about the little…sexual escapade the pair of you had gotten up to recently, and you instead continued to work not all and freely. “Lando, I’ve got the paperwork for the team meeting after the race,” you said, handing him a stack of paper.

“Cheers,” he muttered, taking them and dumping them on the side. It frustrated you how careless Lando could be, but after all, you weren’t here to control him. Just to manage his stuff. And yet, as you watched the race unfold, with the mass of team orders and the fuck off the pit strategy, you were almost horrified.

The way the tea, guilt-tripped Lando and how pissed he looked as he stepped out the car, congratulating Lando with a half-hearted smile. You half-expected Lando to…take his anger out on something. Rather, someone.

You. But…he didn’t. Instead, he just walked past you, going to read the papers you’d given him earlier. But it didn’t take a whole ass genius to figure out what he wanted. He’d initiated almost all of the occurrences between the pair of you.

Maybe….maybe he wanted you to initiate it. You stood outside his door for a solid five minutes, rebating with yourself whether this was a good idea or not. Fuck it, who cared? “Lando,” you said, walking into the room as he made a noise, but said nothing.

You huffed, a little annoyed he didn’t even look up, as you took the paper from his hands, making him finally look up. “You’re angry,” you said, seeing how pissed off he looked, both at you taking the paper, but mainly the race.

“Media is in an hour,” you said. God, how the fuck were you supposed to initiate it? “You’re so shit at everything you do,” Lando said, rolling his eyes as your cheeks turned a light pink hue, “can’t even initiate sex, can you?”. Just hearing him say the word ‘sex’ sent a shiver through your spine.

“Need help for everything, don’t you?” he said, pulling your wrist to pull you onto his lap. “Pathetic,” Lando rolled his eyes, pulling his belt down, grinding your hips down onto his growing bulge.

“Lando,” you gasped as he ignored you, bunching your hair into his hand as he lifted your skirt, pulling his suit down, his cock springing between your thighs. Fuck he was huge. “D’you think I should’ve won, Y/N?” he asked, eyes fixed deeply on yours.

Fuck, he was putting you on the spot. “I…you should’ve won,” you said, as he cupped your hand in his bigger one, bringing to round his throbbing member. “How long hybrid you wanted this?” Lando asked, bringing his lips to suck on your neck.

“Since….since I met you,” you said quietly as he smirked, his hand round yours. “Go on,” Lando encouraged you, holding your hand as he pumped himself, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck,” he hissed, “good girl,”. The nickname itself was enough to send shivers down your spine, as he moved you to lay on your back.

“Always wear such small clothes,” he hissed into your ear, pulling your skirt over your ass, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Lando,” you started, not even knowing what you were gonna say as he shushed you with a small smack on your thigh.

He kept your hand wrapped round his throbbing member, his fingers trailing up and down your sensitive, moist folds. Your hand moved in rhythmic twists up and down his member. “God, look at you,” Lando said, more to himself than you as he stared between your legs.

“Keep going, yeah?” Lando ebbed you on, moving both of your hands onto his cock, your thumb teasing at his tip as he held you on his lap, inching his finger into your core. With the other hand, he moved his fingers to slide of your clit, gliding through your heat.

“Fuck, Lando,” you gasped as he pumped his finger slowly inside of you, bringing his other hand to spread the juices he’d collected across his own dick, as a sort of lube. “Couldn’t even manage to initiate this yourself, could you?” he scoffed.

“All you had to do was ask,” Lando sighed, his voice full of mocking as he curled his finger against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck Lando,” you gasped, hand instinctively squeezing tighter round his member.

You could practically feel how Lando breath hitched as he pulled his hand away from between your legs, pushing you on your back on the massage bed. “An hour before media, you said?” Lando raised a brow, “how many times can you cum in an hour?”.

Lando clamped his hand down on your mouth to stop any moans leaving you, as he ran the head of his cock over your entrance, before sliding in gently. “So fucking tight, aren’t you?” Lando gasped, one hand sliding into your hair, the other holding your stomach flat down.

“Lando,” you gasped, voice muffled by his hand as he slowly pulled all the way out, running his throbbing head over your clit once more, collection yout warm juices across his length, before sliding back in.

You’d barely even had him inside of you, and the room almost smelled like sex, your small white shirt clinging to your chest and arms as Lando worked on removing it, pushing his cock back into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips slowly going from rocking into full

-on snapping against yours, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing as he fucked you. He still had one hand on your mouth, the other throwing your shirt off, moving to cup yout tit through your bra.

You could tell Lando liked more fonts that just his dick slamming into you, one hand on your breast and the other coming to press gently on your neck. The restriction on your airways wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but add to the pleasure.

It was like some sort of way Lando could show you who was in control,mas if you couldn’t even already tell with the way he was drilling into you. The feeling of his cock punching in and out of you was heavenly, you felt like you’d pass out from just the feeling of his member deep inside of you.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said one hand running your hair, tugging gently to bring your head down enough for his lips to crash against his. “Lookin’ so good f’me,” Lando groaned, his voice deep as he closed his eyes, head tilting back slightly.

Lando!s hands trailed down your body, one resting tangled between your hair, the other threading round to lay on your neck. “Come on, Y/N,” Lando said, his voice deep and gravelly, “you can do one thing good f’me, and that’s that you can cum,” Lando groaned.

“You showed me just how well you could not long ago, baby,” he said, giving your jaw a quick kiss, before he dropped his lips to your neck, taking the supple skin between bis teeth, nipping at your sensitive skin as a small purple bruise appeared.

“Should just hire you for sex, shouldn’t I?” he asked. There was so,eating about the bitter degradation that did somehow build up pleasure in you, but you were half-hoping maybe he could be a little easier on you.

After all, you weren’t as incompetent as he made out, in fact, nowhere near as much. “Lando,” you gasped, eyes going a little red from the tears of how hard his cock was slamming into you, his hips angled so the head of his member hit your g-spot perfectly.

In your mind, be looked like a damn angel, his abs glinting with a thin layer of sweat, but in his mind? All he could see was you. He didn’t know why he insisted on being such a dick to you, but it was almost…attractive, seeing you upset. In some odd way.

You could feel your body shoot into tiny spasms as your orgasm flooded through, your pussy clenching round Lando as he groaned, holding you down a little as he kissed and nipped at your neck gently.

“One more f’me,” he said, not leaving any room for question as he rolled his hips a few times, pumping in and out of you before he resumed his rapid movements. “Lando,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back slightly as his hips snapped into yours.

You were sure Lando would be leaving bruises on your hips and thighs, your hair a mess beneath you. “I said…i did say h-how many times I can make you cum in an hour,” Lando said, looking to the clock on the wall.

“One more, yeah?” Lando said, his words almost encouraging as he slowed down the pace of his snapping hips, now gently rocking in and out of you. “You’re such a pretty girl, Y/N,” his voice was no longer rough and commanding.

Now…soft? This was unlike Lando. But you didn’t hate it. It was nice, having someone treat you well. You opened your mouth to say something, no words coming out as Lando rubbed soothing circles along your hips.

“That’s it,” he said softly, “cum f’me, and we’ll go do media and I’ll clean you up after, okay?”. Your second orgasm flooded through as Lando pushed into you, once, twice, before he slid himself out, cum shooting in thick hot ropes on your abdomen.

“Just a bit of media left,” he said, a warm smile on his face as he gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. Whether Lando wanted to be mean to you right now or not, he didn’t,

Because he could see how hard that had been, how much he had overstimulated and pushed you, whilst he had his thumb rubbing on your sensitive clit, and he knew you needed some aftercare.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 1 year ago

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With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home��after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat.

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other.

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you.

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story.

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

1K notes · View notes

drabblesandsnippets · 4 months ago

Text

Sunshine - Part 2

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 6

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: “I won’t be able to stop myself.” | [Sex Pollen | Gone Feral | Fuck or Die] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (5k) Series Masterlist After a night out with Bucky’s friends, things will never be the same.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities and anxiety (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Use of weed. Use of alcohol. Questionable drunk thoughts & decisions. Masturbation.

---------------------------

Bucky can’t stop.

Whether he’s awake or asleep, she’s there, occupying his thoughts.

When he’s out with his friends, he imagines her there, getting to see her laugh and have a good time.

When he’s working, he thinks about what it’d be like to take her picture. To pose her. To touch her. To boost her confidence.

And when he’s asleep, he dreams of her, waking up harder than he’s ever been in his entire life.

It won’t stop, no matter what he does.

It’s even gotten to the point where Bucky’s considered telling her to start looking for another roommate, to offer to help her find someone. But, she’ll ask why, and he can’t lie to her.

He’d have to tell her that he can’t stop thinking about her. That he can’t stop fantasizing about her. That he can’t stop picturing himself sneaking into the bathroom late at night to listen through the thin wall, hoping to catch the sounds she makes when she touches herself.

His confession would not only make her uncomfortable, but she’d never forgive him, and rightfully so. He’d just be another person in her life that ended up hurting her. So he selfishly does nothing, other than continue to allow himself to indulge in the fantasies, keeping it strictly to when she’s not home, or after she’s already gone to her room.

When they are together, he forces himself to keep his thoughts strictly PG-13, never risking giving her a reason to think he wants more than a friendship. Bucky doesn’t know as much about her as he’d like, but her avoidance of physical touch and vague answers about past relationships gives him no reason to think she’d even be interested. It’s just not worth the risk.

All he can hope is that eventually his feelings will fade, and until then he’ll continue on as normal. Inviting her out, hoping she says yes, while secretly starting to feel grateful that he’s been able to keep the two parts of his life separate. It’s been easier that way.

And then Steve opens his big fucking mouth.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here for at least another hour, but here he stands in their kitchen, drinking one of Bucky’s beers, laughing at something Sunshine’s saying. Trying to get her to change her mind after Bucky extended the invitation.

Of all the times for his friend to get involved, it has to be on the night they’re heading to a bar to check out some live music. A crowd of noisy drunk people is so far out of her comfort zone that Bucky can't help but jump to her rescue, telling her, “It’s okay. Maybe another night.”

For some reason that Bucky hasn't figured out yet, Steve won’t let it go, interjecting before Sunshine can respond. “It won’t be too crazy, I promise.” With a friendly smile and a lift of his beer, he adds, “And if it ends up not being your thing, any one of us will be happy to bring you home.”

It’s ridiculous to think that Steve is flirting with her, but the thought still crosses Bucky’s mind and it has his irritation growing, the sneaking feeling of jealousy threatening to build inside him. Resisting the urge to snap at his friend to be quiet, he keeps his attention on Sunshine, telling her, “You’re more than welcome to join us, but please don’t feel obligated because of this one.”

Her eyes bounce between the two men as she shifts uncomfortably and her cheeks flush, but she’s quick to shake her head. “It sounds like it could be fun… I’m just… um.” The anxiety building in her is palpable, causing Bucky’s concern to grow and his irritation at Steve to reach new levels. This is all his fault. Just as he opens his mouth to assure her, again, that there would be no hard feelings, she mumbles, “I’m not sure what to wear.”

The shy, awkward words cause Bucky’s chest to tighten and if he wasn’t worried about making this whole thing worse, he’d tell her exactly what he’s thinking. That it doesn’t matter what she wears because she always looks good. She could go dressed exactly as she is now - sweatpants and a worn t-shirt - and she’d still have his attention the whole night.

And then Steve beats him to it, the smile on his face conveying nothing but friendliness, but the words still get under Bucky’s skin. “You’ll look good no matter what you wear.”

Bucky wants to be the cause of the blush that spreads across Sunshine’s skin. He wants to be the reason she rolls her eyes and laughs at the compliment. And if it were him saying it, he’d make sure she believed it too. He wouldn’t let her leave this kitchen without knowing, without a doubt, that she’s always beautiful.

That's not an option though. He has to watch her dismissively shake her head as she takes her leave, and the moment she’s out of earshot, the tension in Bucky’s shoulders grows. With a hard glare aimed at his best friend, Bucky asks, “What the fuck was that about?” There’s not much that can rattle him these days, but if there’s anyone that knows how to push his buttons, it’s Steve.

Steve continues with the innocent act for a beat longer, making a show of taking a long, slow sip from his beer before he finally asks, “What? I can’t be nice to your roommate?” He’s immune to the subtle warning twitch of Bucky’s jaw, having spent years perfecting just how far he can take things without pissing Bucky off too much.

When it comes to Sunshine though, his fuse is much shorter, and whatever game Steve’s playing, Bucky needs it to end now.

“Enough.” Bucky pushes himself off the counter he’s been leaning on, forcing himself to head towards the fridge instead of getting in Steve’s face. “Leave her alone.” Even as he says it, Bucky knows this isn’t really about her. His best friend never does anything just to piss him off. There’s always a reason behind his provoking, usually one Bucky doesn’t like.

“She said she wanted to come. You want her to come. So, what’s the issue?” And there it is. Steve’s agenda. Involving himself in things that don’t concern him. Trying to goad Bucky into a conversation that he doesn’t want to have. One that he’s been skirting around for weeks.

Refusing to take the bait, Bucky rolls his eyes and ducks his head into the fridge to grab a beer. He’s tired of his friends using the excuse that they’re ‘looking out for him’ when they try to insert themselves into his love life (or lack thereof). He’s not putting up with it tonight.

“You had your fun,” Bucky tells him, keeping his tone even as he twists the cap off the cold bottle in his hand, making it clear he’s reached his limit. “You got your wish. No more games. Leave it alone.”

The only goal is to make sure Sunshine has a good time tonight.

-------------------

She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

One minute she’s making a ‘joke’ about celebrating her recent promotion with a night filled with weed, games, and social media, and the next she’s agreeing to go out to a bar with them.

She rarely goes out, and when she does it’s not to a crowded bar. It’s been a long time since she's even felt the desire, a brief stint in her early 20s spent anywhere but home having convinced her it wasn’t for her. A part of her life she barely remembers and one she definitely doesn’t want to revisit.

Shaking the flash of memories from her head, she lifts her hand to wipe the light sweat covering her upper lip and keeps digging through her closet, searching for whatever will feel the most comfortable. Pajamas. At home. Alone. (Or maybe just with Bucky).

She rolls her eyes at the thought and narrows her selections down to a few shirts, a couple of which she hasn’t worn in months, and the one pair of jeans that doesn’t dig into her stomach every time she sits down. Despite Steve’s friendly encouragement, she’s nervous, studying her reflection in the mirror as she tries on each shirt, growing sweatier with each change.

None of them feel right. They’re either too tight, too big, or show off too much cleavage. This is her first time hanging out with Bucky’s friends and she doesn’t want to choose the wrong thing. She wants to blend in, draw the least amount of attention.

Several outfit changes later, she’s in a simple v-neck t-shirt, brushing her hair out of her reddened face, pulling the damp strands into a quick bun. The desire to wear her hair down was quickly overruled by her desire to not overheat and look like a mess tonight.

It takes her a few minutes of sitting on her bed to cool off, trying her best not to look like she just ran a marathon, but as nervous and anxious as she is about tonight, she’s also excited. This has been a long time coming, and the edible she took a little while ago should help before they even get to the bar.

At least she’s stopped having inappropriate thoughts about Bucky. Well, for the most part anyway. She’ll still occasionally think about accidentally overhearing him in the shower, and she tries not to think about the really intense dream she had about him not that long ago, but it’s not everyday anymore so it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist.

And, hopefully, getting to see Bucky in his element tonight will put all this to rest. With any luck, she’ll get to watch him flirt with random women and finally learn what his type is. She assumes it’s the complete opposite of her. Someone bubbly and positive. Someone perky. Thin. Pretty.

-------------------

Sunshine’s not wearing anything Bucky hasn’t seen her in before, but he swears there’s something different. Maybe it’s the passing streetlights illuminating her beauty, or the smile that’s been on her face since they got in their shared ride, or maybe it’s the light breeze coming in through the cracked car window, the wind blowing wisps of hair along her temples.

Whatever it is, he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes off her, and an even harder time not letting his thoughts stray. The only saving grace is that Steve’s keeping her preoccupied from the front passenger seat, giving her all the gossip about their friends. How they all met. What everyone does for a living. The kind of shit they get up to when they hang out.

“One of these days, ya gotta get Buck to tell you about the time he convinced us to break into a private club to go swimming.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the way Sunshine’s eyes widen and her mouth opens in surprise, but he holds up his finger to correct Steve first. “Technically, it was ‘trespassing’ since I already had the key, and we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t tripped the alarm on the way out. I told you exactly-.”

Steve is the first to interrupt him with a bark of a laugh, but before his best friend can start listing the useless defenses he has about that night, Sunshine speaks up, drawing both of their attention. “I’m sorry. You wanted to break into a private club?”

Bucky’s reminder of ‘trespass’ earns him a glare that he takes in stride, laughing it off. “I worked there. I was allowed to use the pool. Whether or not I was allowed to bring guests was a gray area.”

Steve jumps in to finish, telling her, “It was not a gray area. We almost got arrested.”

“We did not,” Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes at his best friend before turning his attention back to the woman that’s been driving him crazy. The look of slight amusement and bewilderment she’s giving has him clenching his hands in his lap, rubbing them along his jeans, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress her cheek. To tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Not letting a second of silence fill the air, he explains, “There was no risk of getting arrested. I did get fired though.”

The nonchalant shrug Bucky gives her only adds to her state of confusion, and he can’t help but think how cute she looks, with her slightly furrowed brow and the crinkle along the bridge of her nose. Hiding the grin growing on his face, he glances out the window, taking note of how close they are to their destination.

Probably thinking he’s doing him a favor, Steve’s more than happy to keep the conversation going, telling Sunshine, “Don’t let his sunny disposition fool you.” The subtle warning look that Bucky shoots him, a silent reminder of their earlier conversation, has Steve quickly adding, “He’s the greatest guy I’ve ever known, don’t get me wrong, but he’s about as innocent as -.”

“Nope,” Bucky interrupts him with a loud laugh, reaching forward to grab Steve’s shoulder, refusing to let him finish that thought. Steve laughs with him, but keeps his promise, letting the subject drop, turning back around in his seat for the last remaining seconds of their trip, much to the happiness of their driver.

This is the first time Sunshine’s learning there’s more to him than meets the eye, and as she grows quiet, Bucky can only imagine what she’s thinking. Until now, she’s been limited to witnessing the sweet, happy, enthusiastic side of him, leaving her with the assumption that he’s a Boy Scout - a goody two-shoes.

He’s far from it, and as much apprehension as he has about how she'll react to getting know this side of him, there's also a jolt of excitement that he can't ignore. Maybe this will make their friendship even better.

-------------------

This is what she wanted. To get to know Bucky better, to see what he’s like out in the world, with his friends, with other people. But, she feels caught off guard. Like, none of her conversations with Bucky, or the interactions she’s witnessed between him and his friends prepared her for this.

The whole time that he’s been trying to get her to come out of her shell, he’s been hiding parts of himself. He’s been careful with her, never crossing a line, probably choosing his words carefully. There’s no doubt that Bucky’s been doing it for her benefit, but now it all feels like a lie. Like he hasn’t been able to be himself with her, and it hurts her feelings.

Whatever foolish expectations she had for the evening have flown out the window, and she’s more than grateful when the car pulls to a stop, the three of them spilling out onto the busy sidewalk. Fighting the urge to get right back in the car to take herself home, she follows the men into the bar, doing her best to avoid Bucky’s gaze.

He��s probably worried about her. Probably thinking she’s in over her head, that she’s realizing she made a mistake coming tonight. He’s probably thinking I told you so. That she’s not cut out for this - the bar, his friends, him.

The racing thoughts leave her just as quickly as they come, Steve getting her attention as he takes the lead to wind them through the crowd, Bucky in step right next to her. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight.” When all she manages is a slightly-forced smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, Steve adds, “After everything Bucky’s told us about you, we’ve been looking forward to this.”

She steals a quick glance at Bucky, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her. He’s been watching her since she agreed to come tonight, like it’s his job to make sure she doesn’t get overwhelmed, like he’s expecting her to have a nervous breakdown at any moment. The smile he gives her only seems to prove her point, and it doesn’t help when all he innocently asks is, “What? You don’t talk to your friends about me?”

Of course she does, but it does nothing to quiet her concerns about what he’s told his friends about her. Are they expecting her to be an anxious mess? That she’s going to suddenly bolt in the middle of a conversation? What exactly-. She’s interrupted by Steve again, who’s looking at his phone.

“Buck, Nat found a table, and Yelena already disappeared.” He says it with a laugh, as if it’s a normal occurrence, not waiting for a response from Bucky before he says, “Why don’t you go help her keep our spot. We’ll get the drinks.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bucky open his mouth, and they all know what’s about to come out. The offer to switch places, have Steve go sit at the table while she and Bucky get the drinks. And for a split second, she wants him to. It would be so much easier.

But, how is she supposed to prove that she can handle this? That she’s perfectly capable of having a good time if she can’t even be alone with Bucky’s best friend for a few minutes? Both her and Steve answer at the same time - Steve telling him that they can manage a few drink orders, while she says it’s a good idea.

Obviously seeing that this isn’t a fight he’s going to win, and not wanting to risk losing their table, Bucky takes his leave, but not without giving them both one last look. At some point tonight, she and Bucky are going to have to hash this out, but not until she’s had a few drinks.

Keeping close to Steve, she follows him the rest of the way to the bar, not missing how he occasionally glances back to make sure she’s still there. She might feel like she doesn’t know Bucky as well as she thought, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that she’s safe with his friends. She has no reason to be worried about being alone with any one of them.

Well, other than for the fact that she has no idea what Bucky’s told them, or how they're going to treat her tonight. Maybe that’s why Steve wanted a minute alone with her. To tell her all the ways they’re going to help her, to make sure she doesn’t freak out or get overwhelmed. It wouldn’t be the first time a stranger’s given her unsolicited advice.

As if reading her mind, Steve sets her at ease, casually telling her, “He’s had nothing but great things to say about you.” With a raise of his arm, he gets the attention of the bartender to place their orders before turning his gaze back to her, the smile never leaving his face. His hand is still raised between them and he starts ticking things off on his fingers, recounting, “You’re the best roommate. You have great taste in music. And books. And movies.” With four of his digits raised, he lifts his thumb to add, “You’re hilarious. Should I keep going?”

She quickly shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out of her as her skin grows warm. These are all things Bucky’s told her, it’s just strange to hear them from his best friend, who she barely knows. With the effects of the edible having started to kick in a couple minutes ago, she feels comfortable enough to joke, “Is this the part where I’m supposed to list all the great things about Bucky?”

“God no,” Steve immediately tells her with a playful roll of his eyes and a grin that she’s sure has gotten him out of many a things in life. “I have to hear how great that man is all the time. I’d rather drink.” There’s no malice in his tone, no hint of resentment or frustration - this is just their relationship. They love each other and they give each other shit. Like brothers. Like family.

Ignoring the ache in her chest at the thought of family, she lets Steve talk her into doing a couple of the shots lined up on the bar for them. Not that it takes much convincing. There were never any plans to get through tonight even remotely sober.

-------------------

They all know. All of Bucky’s friends know that he has feelings for her, but they think it’s just a crush, like he’s in fucking high school. They have no idea that he can’t stop thinking about her, that it’s bordering on obsession. Not even Steve knows the extent of it.

And tonight, they’re all too drunk to notice he’s been watching her, not out of concern for her mental well-being, but because she’s mesmerizing. Because Sunshine’s doing exactly what he’s been dreaming about for weeks - laughing and dancing and looking like she belongs right here. With his friends. With him.

The alcohol flowing through him makes it difficult to focus, and before he realizes it, Sunshine catches him in the act. Her attention had just been bouncing between joking with Nat and Sam, and watching the band currently playing, the music keeping most of the patrons on their feet. And now she’s staring right at him, as if she can read his mind.

For a moment, he actually believes it, her brow slightly furrowing as she makes her way around the side of the table, reaching out to steady herself along the back of a chair.

He has to fight the urge to help her, keeping his hands around his half-empty glass, the condensation wetting his fingers. After all the months of living together, all the conversations and late night Netflix marathons, he’s never touched her and now it’s all he can think about. It's the only thing on his mind, and she must be able to tell, because the look she’s giving him is telling him that he definitely fucked up.

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize, she asks, “Can we go outside?”

The only response he can muster is a quick nod of his head, and he silently follows her, his thoughts racing with what to tell her. How to explain himself. How to assure her that he’d never cross any lines.

By the time they’re outside, the light breeze cooling their warm skin, he still doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know how to fix this. All he can do is watch her, almost losing focus at her flushed skin and glassy eyes. Even drunk and stoned, she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Are we friends?” The question blindsides him. Makes him stand there, stunned, confused, and silent. Trying to work out why she’s asking that, of all the things she could be asking right now. With a slight slur to her words, she continues, telling him, “I like dirty jokes and inappropriate humor. I like teasing my friends and giving them shit about stupid stuff. I’m not great at rule-breaking, but I wouldn’t lecture you about it.”

The hurt in her eyes betray the joking tone she’s keeping, clearly trying to make light of a situation that’s been bothering her all night - since she learned that he’s not the wholesome, straight-laced guy she assumed him to be.

So he did fuck up, just not in the way he thought.

“I never thought you would lecture me,” he promises her, keeping the shaking of his head to a minimum, his eyes quickly losing focus. He blinks the blurriness away and gives her a warm smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to comfort her with his touch. “I just never wanted to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable, Sunshine. Especially in your own home.”

The quick peak of her tongue wetting her lips has his cock stirring in his jeans, and it takes all his self control not to keep his gaze on her mouth. To ignore the flash of need to kiss her, to feel her lips on his, to taste her. He’s so busy trying to pretend he’s listening to her that he just barely catches what she's saying.

“I'm more uncomfortable with your early morning singing and never-ending enthusiasm than I’d ever be with a dirty joke.”

Her response catches him off guard, and all he can do is laugh. All this time, he's been working so hard to reign in the parts of himself that might bother her, or make things awkward, and it was the complete opposite of what he should have been doing.

-------------------

She likes making him laugh. The crinkle of his eyes. The flash of his teeth. The slight shake of his head that has him lifting his hand to run it through his hair. She wants to feel it, to run her fingers through the soft strands. It’s the perfect length to grab hold of while-.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, laughter still pouring out of him. For the briefest of moments, she thinks she said it outloud, but quickly realizes what he means.

After tonight, things will be different between them, like they’ve given each other permission to really be themselves. And as they return to the rest of the group, she can’t stop thinking what it’s going to be like from now on. The kind of jokes he’ll make. The off-hand comments she won’t keep holding back. The teasing they’ll get up to.

All the inappropriate thoughts she’s been ignoring return ten-fold and she wonders if he’s a tease in bed. If he likes to drive his partner crazy. If he likes to be in control.

By the time the night is over, and they’re sharing a ride back home, she can’t stop stealing glances at him. Her eyes drifting to his mouth, wondering how he kisses. His five-o’clock shadow and what it would feel like between her thighs. His strong hands on her body.

That’s how she ends up in her bedroom, after a quick trip to the bathroom and a brief goodnight to Bucky - wishing like hell they had hugged, wanting the intoxicating smell of him to linger on her clothes and skin - she’s under her covers, naked and writhing at the touch of her own hand, her fingers teasing her nipples, the hand between her thighs ghosting over her swollen clit.

It’s easy to convince herself that because she has no idea what he’s really like in bed, this doesn’t count. This is just a fantasy that could be about anyone. Bucky’s just filling that role. He’s just a face for her to picture while she buries her fingers inside her dripping pussy, the palm of her hand pressed hard against her clit.

It gets harder to pretend as the pleasure builds and the fantasy becomes more intense, picturing him between her spread thighs, fucking her hard and fast, his growl of dirty words filling her head. And soon, she’s fantasizing about him hearing her - how he’d burst in and join her, bury his head between her thighs and fuck her with his tongue.

She’s not drunk enough to allow herself more than a couple seconds of unabashed noises, as if she’s really trying to tempt him, before she’s reigning it back. It’d never happen, but at least she has tonight. At least, for right now, she can pretend it’s him making her come, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth so she doesn’t scream his name.

-------------------

He shouldn’t be doing this. Bucky knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop himself. He blames it on the alcohol skewing his sense of integrity, but it’s a lie. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and yet he stands here, barely breathing, his ear pressed to the thin wall that separates the bathroom from her bedroom.

Refusing to give in to the temptation to touch himself, he keeps his sweaty hands on the wall, his fingers tensing and flexing against the hard surface. He’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive himself for eavesdropping like this, but touching himself at the same time would be a step too far. The guilt would eat away at him until he was forced to move out without warning.

Bucky doesn’t know how long he stands there, his heart racing and his eyes closed, all his focus trained on what’s happening in her bedroom, until he finally starts to hear her. The barely audible gasps, the muffled moans, the occasional cut-off cry that has his cock straining against his jeans.

It’s better than anything he could’ve imagined and as wrong as this is, he can’t stop. Visions of what she’s doing plays through his mind, the possibilities of how she touches herself, what she’s fantasizing about, what’s causing the incredible noises spilling out of her.

And then the obvious signs of her getting closer suddenly has him sobering up. She’s drunk. Neither of them are in the right state of mind, and no matter how much he wants to stay right here to listen to her come, he hasn’t earned that right. He’ll never earn that right.

It still doesn’t stop him from ending the night the same way he’s ended every night for the past several weeks. This time, though, as he slowly strokes his cock, he doesn’t have to imagine what she sounds like. It’s all right there in his head, playing on a loop, working him quickly towards an intense orgasm, the sound of her name muffled as he covers his mouth with the palm of his hand.

There’s no doubt that he’ll regret this tomorrow, but as his cock stays hard in his grip, he can’t seem to care. It feels too good to stop, and it’s not long before he’s stroking himself again, his body aching for her touch. He’ll never have it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t live in this fantasy for just a few moments.

And if he’s lucky, he’ll forget all about this by the time morning comes.

---------------------------

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lovelivision · 6 months ago

Text

NEW JOB

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

wc: 7.1k

summary: starting a new job is always hard, especially when you're tasked with a glorified babysitting role for the most powerful sorcerer and his antics, but what happens when you somehow find yourself growing oddly attached to his weird behaviours and teasing nature

a/n; i am obsessing over this 2d man and i cannot be stopped, come near me and i'm infecting you with thoughts of him. anyways! new blog so i can write for jjk hehehhohoh (i wrote this in a single sitting because i'm mentally unwell)

warnings: 18+ only, smut, making out, dry humping, hickeys, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, big dick gojo (duh), creampie, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, nicknames

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Why you were here, you had no clue… well you did, you just wish you didn’t have to be here but being forced to do this was putting it lightly. It’s frustrating because they act like you don’t have your own jobs to handle but now you’re being forced to be Gojo Satoru’s handler as well. This is going to be a much more taxing job than exorcising any curse, why he insisted on pissing off the higher ups is beyond you. Not that you’re completely innocent in those regards, mind you.

You’re sat waiting in Yaga’s office, waiting for a certain someone who treats showing up on time as optional. Looking at the clock behind Yaga, you see it’s bordering on 15 minutes since he was supposed to be here.

You deflate slightly with your quiet sigh, “Do I really need to be h–”

“–Yes,” is the only reply you get out of the man in front of you, eyes unreadable but based on the aura of the room, he’s beyond pissed.

Sinking further into your seat, you murmur about how annoying all of this is, it’s meant for Yaga to hear but he ignores you. Seeing Gojo is going to take years off your life, you’ve crossed paths with him many times in the past few years, he has a bad habit of interrupting your exorcisms, finishing them, and then getting on your nerves.

The door behind you slides open and shut loudly, making your heart lurch inside your chest, while you outwardly fight the urge to flinch. Gojo moves in behind you and leans down, “Didn’t scare you, did I?” There’s an annoying mirth in his tone as he carelessly rounds the seat and sits far too close to you.

You don’t spare him a glance, “No.”

He smiles at you knowingly but says nothing more, finally addressing Yaga, “What’s up?”

“You’re late,” Yaga takes in a deep breath, fighting the urge to yell at him.

Gojo’s smile grows, his words picked carefully to piss the pair of you off more, “Well, I know that part, I meant why am I being summoned here.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Why is he only being informed of this now?” You ask, irritated with not only Gojo but the whole damn system. You were told nearly two weeks ago that this was happening, how hadn’t he been told until now.

Yaga looks at you like it should be fairly obvious why they waited and you guess it is, he’s blind-sided this way, he doesn’t have a chance to wriggle out of it when today is the official first day of your new job babysitting Gojo Satoru and his first-year students. Oh, this is just perfect for you and not foreboding at all.

Before you have a chance to speak again, Yaga says, almost like he’s delighting in how inconveniencing this will be for Gojo, that, “You now have a teaching assistant, Gojo. You will be monitored as well as your students and everything will be reported back to me.”

“Ah, a glorified babysitter, how lovely,” Gojo’s smile doesn’t drop but it does look more strained.

Yaga doesn’t take kindly to his tone, “Watch it, this is fully deserved and you know it.”

“I’ve done nothing,” he defends himself.

You scoff slightly at that and Gojo side eyes you, you make an active effort to avoid his gaze though and instead focus on what Yaga is saying, “After that stunt you pulled with faking Itadori’s death recently, you’re lucky to be getting off so easy.”

Gojo jabs his thumb in your direction, “So what’s her punishment for then?”

You finally look at him, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I don’t imagine this is something one signs up for, so what did you do to piss off the higher ups,” his smile is teasing and so is his tone.

You squint at his stupid blindfold before looking back at Yaga, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Yaga coughs at your statement but doesn’t let Gojo’s endless amusement at your suffering continue, “What may or may not have happened is none of your business Gojo–”

“–Ah, so something did happen then,” he elbows at your shoulder and you grumble at him.

Yaga completely ignores Gojo’s antics, “Your only concern is to be accommodating and keep her in the loop.”

He waves a hand easily, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he brushes off the conversation with a sceptical nonchalance. His palms hit his knees as he pulls himself off the seat, “Is that all?”

Yaga pauses, watching him carefully for a moment before acquiescing, “Yes, that’s all, get out.”

“Come on, troublemaker, you have three adorable first years to meet!” his tone is too chipper and you don’t take kindly to his nickname for you but you stand from the seat and bow at Yaga before following behind him.

⸝⸝⸝

You are… uncomfortable, to say the least. The three first years sit in front of you, confused and waiting for some kind of explanation but Gojo just leans against the lectern, amused smile plastered on his face. You’re nervous, children can be so… scary, they were scary when you were their age and now you’re getting stage fright, in front of three people.

Gojo giggles behind you, granting some mercy… his version of mercy anyways, “We have a new addition to the class!”

“She’s… a student?” The one you recognise as Itadori tilts his head in question.

You can hear the glee drip from Gojo’s voice, “Well in some ways–”

“–No.” You cut him off abruptly, “I am… uhm, a teaching assistant… of sorts…”

The girl, very clearly unamused, questions further, “And what are you gonna be doing?”

You freeze up, you do know what you’re meant to be doing but you’re getting shy, you’ve never been good at being put on the spot.

Gojo finally moves from behind the lectern and places a hand on your shoulder, “She’s basically… my babysitter!” He announces, large smile on his face.

The students look… completely not shocked, like they expected something like this to happen at some point.

“I am here to help though! So, if you have questions or want someone to spar against or if Gojo is unavailable and you need help on a mission, I am here to be of service,” you smile lightly, trying to be kind. If you’re going to be here, you want to be of some use.

Itadori nods in thought, “So, are you strong?”

You feel warm in the face at the question, it’s not something you’ve ever been asked really. You think you are, you’re definitely capable but you’re nowhere near Gojo.

While deep in thought, Gojo replies for you, “Yes.” His reply is simple and leaves them all with more questions.

You throw a glance at Gojo before answering for yourself, “I am capable and willing to help.”

⸝⸝⸝

Your first introductions went better than you expected, you quite like them all, even the quiet one who’s always in a bad mood. Things would’ve gone better if Gojo didn’t delight in teasing you in front of them all, it’s embarrassing to be poked and prodded at for some kind of a reaction, you mean, isn’t he meant to be an adult for crying out loud.

It’s only been about a week and a bit into you ‘babysitting’ Gojo and you think he might be attempting to annoying you into quitting but that isn’t an option for you. The kids are sparring on the open field and Gojo is at your side, poking the side of your face with a mischievous smirk plastered on his. He’s been trying and failing to get a reaction out of you for the past 10 minutes.

“Gojo, is there something you want from me, or are you just waiting for me to try and smack you,” Turning your body, you face him completely, your hands on your hips.

He shoves his hand behind his back quickly, trying to play it off like he wasn’t just poking your cheek, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sighing you continue, “If you’re trying to annoy me into quitting, you’re going to find that awful difficult, I have to be here.”

“Quite the contrary, I like having you here, troublemaker,” he smiles, leaning against the tree behind him.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you grit out.

He hums lightly, “That’s just cause you’re not used to my love language.”

Raising a brow at him, you ask, “Your love language is being absurdly annoying?”

“Now you’re getting it,” he pokes you directly on your nose and you exhale sharply, twisting your lips to hide any hint of amusement. Turning back to the students you resume ignoring him, which he huffs dejectedly at, “If you’re gonna be watching over me for a while, you may as well get used to talking to me, I think I’m quite enjoyable.”

“Of course you would think that,” you retort.

“Ouch,” he grabs his chest, pretending to be wounded, he pushes off the tree and hangs an arm over both your shoulders, his weight pressing into you, “So… seriously, what did you do?” His head is turned to the side of yours, watching for your reactions.

You’re starting to feel uncomfortable at his proximity but apparently so are the others because Kugisaki turns and points at Gojo, yelling, “Don’t hang off her like that, perv!”

You stifle a laugh at her accusation, as Fushiguro rolls his eyes and grimaces.

Gojo calls out, “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” He wraps both his arms around you and pokes his tongue out at them all.

You’re squished against him and it’s making you hot, “Gojo, if you don’t peel yourself off of me in the next few seconds I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

“I don’t think you would be able to, is the thing though,” he snickers down at you, he does release you though, taking a step back.

You feel beyond annoyed and as much as you know your fist won’t connect, you go to throw a powerful punch at him anyways. It predictably gets stopped by his infinity, never even making it close to his face.

“Oh wow, you tried to punch me!” He exclaims in faux hurt, his hand reaches up to yours and unfurls your fist, instead interlacing your fingers, “I was wondering how long it would take for you to crack and try and hit me.”

You sigh in defeat, “Gojo, please let go of my hand.”

“Tell me what you did and I just might,” he propositions.

The kids are yelling at Gojo from the field, cursing him out for being weird, which of course, he only finds hilarious.

“Gojo,” he hums at you in acknowledgement, “Do you think if I tried really hard, and willed it to happen, that me kicking you in the balls would connect?”

He pouts at your words, apparently holding out for a different response, “Oh, how you wound me.” He drops your hand with a sigh, “Can’t be that bad, tell meeeee,” he whinges slightly, attempting a new way of annoying you, clearly.

“You’re right, it’s not that bad, but it’s way more fun not to tell you at this point,” you smile brightly at him and his eyes widen in slight shock at the display.

He continues pouting, “Cruel…”

You just shrug at him in response.

⸝⸝⸝

Every time Gojo is around, he is trying to get you to tell him why you were assigned to be his handler. You don’t tell him, you just shrug or smile like you have no idea why, you understand why he likes to tease a bit now, seeing him so upset over something so small does brighten your day just a little bit.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown fond of his company, as well as the three kids. You thought this would be more hellish, and while on some occasions it is, you quite enjoy your day to days now. Filled with his teasing tone and stupid smile, you’re feeling comfortable with them all.

Your only complaint is that, while this is what you’re expected to be doing most of the time, the fact that sorcerers are hard to come by hangs true and you are still sent on solo missions on a whim. It’s only annoying because you’re expected to come and go easily, like fighting off first-grade or high-grade curses isn’t completely taxing.

Today you enter the classroom slightly later than usual, having been absent since the middle of yesterday, you didn’t even have time to sleep, you showered and came straight here. You mumble an offhanded good morning before collapsing into a chair in the corner of the front of the class.

“Look who decided to show back up,” Gojo chirps.

“Mmm, too loud… too much… so early,” you grumble back.

Itadori asks what no one else does, “Where did you go?”

You sigh into the air, “Ah, I had a job, it’s fine though, here now,” you smile lazily.

Gojo scrutinises you from behind his blindfold, he can tell you’re tired, hell, everyone could tell you’re tired. Your head is barely staying up, almost lolling to the side, looking for somewhere to rest so you can sleep.

“Maybe you should go home,” he comments, uncharacteristically serious.

You peek an eye open at him, they had fallen closed, when did they close? “Can’t.” you mutter out, “I’m needed here, so you don’t do anything stupid.”

“You aren’t going to be able to stop me if you’re asleep,” he retorts.

“No but it won’t look as bad if I am at least here,” you cover your mouth as you yawn.

He moves over to your corner and bends down, “If I promise to behave will you go home?”

“Probably not,” you smirk up at him, “I don’t think I’d believe you.”

Kugisaki groans, “Flirt on your own time!”

You bark a laugh at that, the back and forth you have with Gojo is not how you flirt and you imagine it’s not how he does either, “Yeah, Gojo. Go away.” You say, playing into it.

His smile is light as he turns away from you, “Fine but if you complain about a backache later from sleeping in that chair it’s not my fault.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep,” you counter.

⸝⸝⸝

You fell asleep.

You don’t know when exactly it happened, you just know it did… and that you’re embarrassed. When you startle awake in your seat, you can hear the distant noises of the students sparring and the breeze flowing through the – previously – closed windows.

“Hey, you’re up,” Gojo notices from his spot, lazing in the students desks.

You sit up a bit more, “How long–”

“–How long were you asleep?” He finishes for you, “A couple hours.”

“Why are you in here?” You ask, “Why aren’t you with the first-years?”

“The first-years are sparring with the second-years, they’re fine,” he too, sits up more, “I stayed cause I didn’t wanna leave you alone in here.”

You raise a brow at him, “That or you just didn’t wanna actually do your job today.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs easily.

“Mhm, thought so,” standing up completely, you stretch out your limbs, joints aching from sleeping in the chair.

“I didn’t think you would also be doing solo missions while being here,” he comments from behind you.

“Well… you know how shorthanded we are,” you walk over to where he’s sitting, “Plus, me being here is almost as much as a punishment for me as it is for you,” you remind.

“That’s funny, I wouldn’t say I feel punished,” he says it like it means nothing, like his feelings aren’t lingering right under the surface.

Thinking on it, you agree, “I don’t much either, I’ve been having quite a bit of fun actually,” you laugh lightly.

Gojo’s world stands still for a moment, he’s been growing addicted to how you smile, the sound of your laugh. He’s lucky for the blindfold because nearly every time he looks at you he has hearts in his eyes.

Noticing his silent staring, you grow shy, rubbing the back of your neck, “Sorry for falling asleep, it won’t happen again.”

He recovers quickly, “No it won’t… because next time, you’re going to go home to sleep properly before showing back up here.”

“Whatever you say, Gojo,” you play it off, not taking him seriously.

“Call me Satoru.”

You’re a little shocked, feeling like you misheard him, you clarify, “I’m sorry, what?”

He gets up from where he’s sitting, “We’ve known each other for years now, call me Satoru.”

You don’t know if you should, it feels weird, like letting him into your life more than he already is and that’s a little much for post nap you, “Maybe…”

He chuckles, “Don’t force yourself, just know, you can if you want to…”

You nod at him, suddenly feeling incredibly bashful.

⸝⸝⸝

You’re cleaning… why are you cleaning? Because you somehow got conned into having Gojo over. Its honestly impressive of him, you have no idea how he convinced you to let him into your home. You barely can even recall the conversation, something about movies, he’s somehow got your favourite movie before the DVD or streaming release.

Anyways, now you’re scrabbling around your meagre apartment, attempting to clean it up to a high standard before you have a guest over. You have time, you have enough time to clean the main areas, yourself, your bedroom… wait, your bedroom (?). Brushing off the thought, you continue your tirade, it ends with just enough time for you to make yourself look presentable.

Knocks in the form of a carefree tune are thumped into your door and you know who it is instantly, even his knocking is distinctly him. Tugging your shirt on, you call out, “Just a sec!”

Pausing in front of the door, you smooth yourself out, like you weren’t just running around like an insane person a few minutes ago, and then you open the door. The sight of Gojo is shocking, it wasn’t what you were expecting… you’ve seen him in casual clothes before, but you think you’ve gotten too used to seeing him at the school.

You mumble out, “You look nice.”

His eyes light up behind his glasses, “Why thank you, you look nice as well.” He speaks lowly on his way past you.

You stand stunned for a little, not expecting his compliment to affect you so much. He’s already walked down the hall while you stood staring at where he once was. Closing the door, you start after him, meeting him in the lounge room.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod your head, waiting for him to show how he accrued the movie.

“Ta da!” He shows the usb stick, presumedly holding the movie.

You sigh at his jovial display of piracy and grab the thumb drive off him. Gojo makes himself comfortable on the couch while you plug it into the tv.

“You have a cute apartment,” he hums, looking around from where he’s sitting.

Grabbing the remote, you switch through the tv’s sources and search for the content on the stick, “Thank you… I think.”

“It’s a compliment,” he affirms.

You flop down next to him on the couch, “We good to start? Or do you have more to say?”

“I always have more to say,” he grins.

“I’ve noticed,” you snark back, beginning the movie anyways.

It starts off good, the movie’s quality isn’t great but it’s good enough to enjoy the content of the film. That is… until the halfway mark and then the quality drops significantly and you can’t even tell what’s happening on screen anymore, everything fuzzy and words mumbled, almost robotic.

You suppress a smile, “Gojo… where did you get the movie?”

“…Online somewhere… I watched the first few minutes and it looked fiiine,” he’s whinging slightly, disappointed in the sudden quality drop.

You can’t help but laugh at his complete dismay, “It’s fine, Gojo, at least I got to see some of it?” You try looking on the bright side, “You’ll just have to buy me a real copy when it comes out.”

“Is that another invitation?” He teases.

You look over to him, “Another? I barely remember giving out this one.”

“That hurts, you know?” He pouts at you.

You can’t help the way your face breaks out in a smile, “It is.” He looks at you confused, “An invitation,” you finish.

His pout breaks into a large smile, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you liked me.”

“Ah, you’re beginning to grow on me,” you torment lightly.

He nods his head solemnly, “Knew I would.”

You scoff at him, only now realising how close he’s gotten to you, your knees touching, his face so close to your own. You go to look away from him, feeling self-conscious, but his hand reaches up and pulls your face back to continue the intense eye contact.

“If I kiss you right now, will you try and punch me again?” He jokes, trying to relieve the tension.

You find a place inside you that outweighs your anxiety, “Only one way for you to find out.”

He leans in that tiny bit more and captures your lips in his, the kiss tender and gentle, he’s searching, learning. He doesn’t want to scare you away, wanting to kiss you for so long and not willing to ruin it by spooking you now. It took him so long just to work up the courage to get inside your apartment, he doesn’t want you to pull back when you’ve finally stepped towards him.

He parts first, hesitant, if he keeps kissing you, it won’t stay innocent because he really wants to kiss you until you cry.

You repress a whine at the loss of him, “Wait…” You trail off, embarrassed by how badly you want him to keep kissing you.

“Yeah?” He presses, wanting to hear you ask him for it.

“Can… you kiss me again,” you ask, before adding, “please?”

It’s too good to be true, he’s dreaming… but even if that’s the case, he’s sure as hell not wasting this moment, “Anything for you~”

Leaning back in, he kisses you with more fervour, his lips more insistent, desperate. His one hand stays on your face, angling you so he can kiss you deeper, he wants more, more. The other hand reaches for your hip, tugging and pulling at the fat there, groping your skin greedily.

Your moans and whimpers muffle into his mouth, he swallows them down, licking into your mouth, silently asking for more. Which, you give, you think you’d give him the world right now if you could. His kisses are dizzying and full. You’ve not been kissed like this… ever and it’s overwhelming you in an embarrassing way.

Pulling back, you rush out, “Wait wait…”

Gojo freaks a little, “Shit– sorry, was it too much?”

You shake your head, “No, well…maybe, I’ve just… never been kissed like that before, I was feeling dizzy.”

He breathes a sigh of relief before targeting you with a teasing smile, an evil glint in his eyes, “I’m kissing you dumb, huh?”

You feel hot, everywhere, “I–”

Your defence is cut off with this lips back on yours, he’s drunk on your kisses and he’s not going to stop. Knowing that he’s overwhelming you with them only spurs him on, he wants you to be so stupid because of his lips, he thinks he couldn’t want anything more than that right now.

Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer; he lets it happen and falls into you, pressing your back into the couch. On instinct, your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him down into you more, desiring the proximity. His front presses into yours and you both moan into each other.

He trails kisses from your lips to the side of your face, down to your neck, his teeth nipping lightly, sucking into your skin, leaving marks behind, not really caring about how you’ll struggle to cover them tomorrow. You gasp into him and raise your hips, grinding into him without meaning to. The friction has him groaning into the skin of your neck.

His large hand grabs at the thickest part of your thigh, grabbing and pulling your covered cunt closer to his clothed dick. His hips dig down into yours, humping into you and trying to fight off the urge to cum in his pants at the minimal amount of stimulation.

He huffs against your sensitive skin, “Bet you’re so fucking wet, fuck–”

“Gojo–”

He cuts you off, “–Lemme… lemme touch you more, please.”

You nod at him, eyes glassy from how he kissed you, “Uh huh, do– do whatever you want~”

His hand is immediately leaving your thigh and reaching into the front of your pants, under your panties and through your dripping folds, a shiver running down his back as he groans deeply. He had a feeling you were wet but fuck– he wasn’t expecting this.

You sob a moan into the collar of his shirt where you’ve tucked your head, his fingers glide through your slick, teasing you, lightly grazing your clit.

His tone is light, “So eager~”

“Don’t t–tease, it’s unkind,” you try to chastise him.

He smiles at you, it’s dark but full, as a single finger probes at your entrance, slipping in carefully, aided fully by the amount of slick that gushes from your pussy, “So messy,” he hums, nosing the side of your face, giggling at the whimper you let out.

“Gojo–”

“–I think…” his finger slips to the hilt, pulling back before fucking back in, wet squelching sounding through your small apartment, “…I’ve earned Satoru, when I’m knuckles deep in your pretty, little cunt.”

If you thought you were hot before, you definitely were now, “Satoru, please.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” his cock jerks in his pants at the sound of you finally calling him by his name.

Your small gasps and sighs are setting his skin on fire, a light flush dusting his features, he still wants more from you, he wants to hear it all, he wants to feel it all, he wants to see it all. Deciding he’s had enough of your clothes, he slips his finger from deep in your cunt, which results in the prettiest, wrecked sound coming from you.

“Just a sec, need these off…” he tugs your pants down and off, leaving you in your panties, he hums in thought at you, “…These are cute,” he points out, looking at to the lacy garment decorating your lower half, “Expecting something to happen?”

You shake your head no, not loving the accusation that you planned this, “No, I just… didn’t have anything else…”

“Convenient,” he comments, taking notice of how completely ruined they are, wet from your arousal pooling in them. He pulls the side of them away from your skin, only to let it slap back against you, enjoying the way you squirm under him, “I think I’ll leave these on.”

He continues undressing you though, tugging off your shirt, your bra following along soon after. You feel so exposed compared to his fully dressed form. His cock strains against his pants though, sitting heavy against the zipper of his jeans. The sight makes you salivate but he takes no notice.

“I gotta get my mouth on you, pretty thing,” he murmurs more to himself than you, since you’re not really thinking at this point, only squirming under him and trying to rub your thighs together.

He shuffles down between your legs, spreading them apart further and tossing them over his shoulder. Drawing your panties to the side, he presses his face into your cunt, inhaling deeply, the act makes you jump and whinge out his name, shocked by the completely debauched display.

“Satoru~”

He doesn’t reply, not with words, he mumbles into your pussy and licks a long stipe from your hole to your clit before licking back down. His tongue pushing into your cunt with the desperation of a starved man. His nose presses against your clit and he moves his head side to side slightly, stimulating it.

You moan and whimper into the air, fingers finding purchase in his hair, needing something to tug onto while he eats you out in the messiest way possible. There is no finesse, he’s sloppily making out with your cunt, drinking down all the arousal that leaks from you eagerly.

Your thighs begin shaking beside his head and he holds you tighter, his head moving back and forth quickly, shaking it, trying to force your orgasm from you. The feeling of his blunt nails digging into your soft skin and the way he groans so unrestrained into your pussy has you cumming on his face very suddenly.

Your stomach twists as your cunt clenches around Gojo’s tongue, your mind lost in how good you feel. Not registering the sound of your moans or the sounds of his mouth lapping at you in the most lewd manner, it should be embarrassing how wet you are for him but you can’t seem to care when it feels this good.

He’s unrelenting, licking and mouthing at your sensitive pussy until you start twitching away from him and pulling on his hair harshly, wordlessly tell him it’s too much.

“Perfect,” he turns his face to the side and mumbles into your thigh, nipping at the skin, delighting in the way your body jerks, “Got an absolutely perfect cunt.” He says shamelessly.

“Gojo!”

He looks up at you through his lashes, “Ah, back to Gojo now?” he leans up and back onto his knees, tugging his shirt over his head and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, “No worries, I’ll fix that real soon.”

The sound of his belt clinking and zipper undoing brings you out of your thoughts, temporarily disarmed by the sudden exposure of his skin. He doesn’t bother taking them off completely, just shirking them down enough to free his painfully erect cock.

Your gaze gets lost in the sight of his dick, leaking thick globs of precum from the tip down his shaft. His hand tugging lazily at it, spreading his own mess everywhere, slicking it up for you. Wet sounds of his hand languidly fucking his cock makes your skin prick. How he’s going to fit you aren’t sure, the size of him is daunting.

He smiles when you look back in his eyes, “There she is.” He leans down over you, “I know I have a really nice dick but let’s try and stay focused, pretty, hmm?”

It’s condescending and egotistical of him to say but you can’t fight the shiver that runs down your spine at his words, “Gojo, you have a massive–”

“–Dick? Yeah I know,” he smiles cheekily at you.

You finish your previous interrupted statement, “I was gonna say ego.”

“Two things can be true at once,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You ready for this?”

“I don’t think I could ever be ready for this,” you retort.

“Way to boost a guys ego,” he chuckles at your comment.

You grab the side of his face, “Not that you need it.” You murmur before pulling him down for another kiss, missing the feel of his lips on yours.

He licks into your mouth straight away; you can taste yourself on his tongue. You feel like you could float away, not knowing how you’ve gone your whole life without being kissed like this. Your thighs are back on either side of his hips again, your need to be filled growing by the second.

Pulling back, he sits up so he can watch himself enter your tight pussy. He’s not denying himself this view, not when he’s imagined it so many times before. He rubs his cock through your folds a few times, relishing in your small jumps and moans. He needs it wet; it needs to be so fucking wet if he even dreams of fucking his cock all the way inside you.

“I’m gonna need you to relax for me and remember to breathe if you wanna take it all,” he says it so seriously, and if you hadn’t seen his dick you would’ve assumed he was just stroking his own ego for the sake of it.

You nod at him, “Got it, now please,” your hips wiggle slightly, enticing him.

“I got ya,” he smirks, pushing forward slightly.

The tip of him is a lot, your cunt stretching to take it, the ache dulled by the absolute messy state of your pussy and the thumb Gojo is pressing into your clit. He intakes a sharp breath at the snug fit of your cunt, his hips jerking forward mindlessly, a groan pulled from deep in him, while you whimper pathetically.

Your breath stutters and you’re struggling, grip on his cock impossibly tight, through gritted teeth, he reminds, “Hey, hey… breathe yeah? You gotta –fuck– you gotta breathe for me, pretty.”

Collecting yourself, you attempt to take deep breaths, they come out stuttered but the punishing grip you had on him eases, “Almost had me fucking cumming, geez…” he laughs lightly at it but he would’ve been beyond embarrassed if he came with only his tip inside of you, he’d never live it down.

“You can –hah– you can move,” you stammer out.

He double checks, “You sure?”

Your eyes are so wet and your voice is wrecked when you add, “Please.”

An evil smile takes its place on his face, “Why were you assigned to work with me?”

“Gojo, not now,” your words break off into a whine, you sound so pathetic, you do not have the upper hand here.

“Mmm? You want me to stuff you full? Tell me the reason,” he leans down slightly, cock slipping just that tiny bit more into you.

Ignoring him, your wrap your legs tighter around his waist and try fucking up onto him, it works for the one second that he lets it and then one of his large hands is reaching down and slamming your hips back into the couch cushions.

“Come on, pretty,” his breath wafts against the side of your face, his lips tickling your ear, “You really gonna waste time being stubborn?”

“You’re the stubborn one,” you argue.

He hums noncommittally, almost like you proved his point for him, “Come on, I can feel you fucking pulsing around me, just tell me what you did~”

“I– I… I didn’t listen to an order on a mission and almost got myself killed,” you pout out, breathing laboured.

He tsks at you, disapproving of your actions, “You really should be more careful,” he kisses beside your ear, “And listen to your seniors more.” It goes without saying that, that includes him. You suspect he’s mostly talking about himself; he has no respect for the current hierarchy.

“Gojo, you said you would–”

He tilts his head at you, “–I did but now knowing how reckless you were, I can’t help but want to punish you a bit more…”

Your waterline fills with tears at the frustration, your pussy fluttering on the barely two inches he has sat inside you, how he’s holding out so well you have no idea because you’re about to fucking cry.

Your voice is embarrassing to even your own ears, “Satoru, please, more.”

“Ah, well when you ask like that, how can I say no?” He’s acting as if he’s taking mercy on you and not like his dick didn’t twitch violently at you using his name again.

Slowly, he pushes into you, stopping every now and again to let you adjust and reminding you to just breathe through it. Something Gojo has realised is, your cunt is so reactive to him, the words he speaks, the hand he has on your hip, the kisses he presses into the side of your head, all of it has you spasming around him and every time you do, it feels like a gut punch to him.

It’s addictive and also world shattering, he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to last when he actually starts fucking into you. The little noises you make don’t help either, how on earth is he meant to last more than a minute inside you?

Eventually, he bottoms out, the both of you moaning at the relief, your legs nearly kick at the sensation of how deep inside you he is, “Satoru, move?”

He bites out, “Give me a second.” He’s fighting the primal urge to cum inside you right now.

You whine under him, hips twitching, using the minimal amount of space to grind your pelvis into his. Your pussy stutters around him at the stimulation on your clit and he groans loudly at it, his orgasm on the tip of his tongue.

He forces your hips down and still again, pinning you to the couch with his own, “You’re so impatient. Do you want this to be over now? You want me to cum after only being fully inside you for a minute?”

You shake your head at him, the feral look in his eyes making your stomach do flips, your pussy gushing around him.

He laughs dryly, “Fuck, I can’t do a single thing without turning you on more, huh?”

You look away from him, embarrassment reaching a new pique with that comment, “Not nice, Satoru.”

“Not a bad thing, pretty,” he noses your cheek, realising how he said it harshly without meaning it that way, “Huge compliment, knowing you react this way to me is fucking perfect but it also has me on the edge of finishing prematurely.”

Turning your head back to him, you look him in the eyes and he swears he sees heaven because you have tears trailing down your cheeks and your eyes are blown and wet and he’s gonna finish if he keeps looking at you. So, instead, he leans in and kisses you deep, getting lost in the taste and feel of your mouth.

The small reprieve helps and he begins thrusting his hips back and forth, his cock leaving and entering you with the most obscene noises he’s ever heard. It’s such a fucking mess, leaking out of you, down your thighs and onto your nice couch. And even if he really tried, he couldn’t give a fuck, not when your cunt is so slick and warm and wrapping around him like it was made for him.

The sounds you let out are cute but muffled against his mouth, he settles for swallowing them down but he’d really rather hear them loud and clear. You flutter around him so beautifully, everything you do is perfect to him and you laying here while he shoves you full of his fat cock is no different.

He pulls away from your lips to hear the noises you make for him, “Cute,” he comments offhandedly, not even sure if you hear the contents of his words. He only knows you hear his voice because your cunt clenches down on him at the sound.

You cry out to him, “S’toru~”

“Ah, you’re so fucking close aren’t you,” the smile on his face is huge and wolfish, excited to feel you cum all over him, looking forward to literally nothing else.

You try to verbalise it, “I– mm –mmph–”

“Go on, let yourself gush all over me, wanna fucking feel it, pretty,” his words are sharp against your ear.

His hips increase their pace, slamming down into you more forcefully, his pelvis grinding into your clit harshly. Your eyes cross into the back of your head, neck lolling back bonelessly, choppy, whimpered sounds leave you. Your fingers claw at his biceps, leaving behind angry marks. Gojo’s hands have a death grip on your hips, bruised marks will definitely be left behind in their wake.

A particularly sharp thrust and loud whine from Gojo has you cumming under him, your pussy gripping him tight as your cum leaks from you sloppily, his cock coated in it. Creamy ring left at the base of his cock as he continues thrusting mercilessly.

His abs pull taut, his resolve finally breaking now that he’d finally felt you finish on him, “Where you want it?”

“Inside, please Satoru,” your words are mumbled and breathy.

“Fuuuuuck.”

He’s lucky you said that because your words have him cumming on the spot, thick ropes of his cum being forced deep inside your little cunt. It leaks out around the base of him, even as he presses deep into you, his pelvis tight against yours, riding out his high by grinding into you slightly. The stimulation making your cunt jump around him as he hisses at the slight overstimulation he’s forcing himself into.

You both huff, gasping greedily for air after your intense highs, the room filled with nothing but silence and your haste breaths. Eventually, you both even out and lay there quietly, Gojo pressed against you with his cock still snug inside your pussy.

“Gojo, you’re heavy,” you tell him.

He laughs, “Right, sorry.”

Leaning back, he slowly pulls his dick from you, both hissing at it. His eyes are fixated on the way his cum slips from your hole, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight, obsessing over how hot it is that you took so much of him. He slips your panties back into place, letting them keep his cum inside you.

“You did so good,” he praises you suddenly.

It makes you feel bashful, “So did you…” you mumble out.

A loud laugh results from him, “Thank you,” he says, his eyes crinkled in a large smile.

Gojo cleans the pair of you up, tucking you carefully into your bed and holding you close as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Do you want me to be?” He questions lightly, trying not to expect anything from you.

“…Yes, I’d like it a lot if you stayed, I think.” You admit shyly.

“Then I’ll be here,” he presses himself into you closer, enjoying the warmth radiating off of you.

You don’t think this was in your job description…

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojou x reader #gojou x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk x reader #visionwrites

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 month ago

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Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: an introduction

G/N. Trying maybe a new lil storyline. General shenanigans with reader as a secret friend. Masterlists

Goo Kim's circle of secret friends is a very exclusive and private club you are proud to be part of.

Would have figuratively and literally worn the declaration like a badge of honour if it wasn't supposed to be, well - secret.

How he had come to hear about you is still a head scratcher, although you suppose you have built up quite a reputation if you asked the right people.

You know a lot about a lot. Have your finger in all the pies. Developed a knack for keeping your ears low to the ground and anything you don't know, you dare say isn't worth knowing.

Sticking your nose into places it didn't belong though, it should have gotten you into a lot of trouble-

But god has his favourites. Despite your lack of physical prowess, you rolled the dice and somehow accrued enough luck and passable charm for things to work out for you in most situations.

Most.

Your leg has pretty much healed completely after the incident a few years back. It just tends to click a lot whenever you bend your knee. It's fine, you can live with it, after all you should have seen the other guy.

Spoiler alert: he's dead.

"You owe me, babe." The blonde grins, wiping off his sword with-

"Hey, that's my jacket!" Despite being unsteady on your feet and your right leg throbbing painfully, you hobble over to yank it out of his hands.

"Sorry," he doesn't look sorry at all. He crouches down, opting to use the recently deceased guy's shirt instead. It's terribly disrespectful of the dead.

"He's really dead, huh." You give the body a harsh nudge with your foot. There's nothing, not even a choked gurgle. Just an ever growing puddle of blood and two lifeless orbs peering up at the open sky.

"'Fraid so," he answers, sliding his glasses back up his nose.

"Good." Then you add, "What's your name again?"

And it's not so much that you're indebted to Goo Kim.

You like to think that you're practically innocent in this. He's the one that pulled the trigger, the actual sword, the very first time you met him and off-ed the guy who was a pain in your ass. It's not like you could control what that blonde maniac chooses to do.

(Not that you think this defence would hold up in a court of law.)

(...And yes you're thankful, but you have a feeling he was just trying to make a dramatic entrance more than anything.)

So no, you're not indebted to him. It's a mutually beneficial relationship.

You help Goo with his little queries and his morally grey (if you're being generous) errands; in return there's a steady stream of income and the more efficient and discreet you are, the heftier the tip too.

Sure, yes, Goo can be a very difficult customer.

His personality takes a bit of getting used to, and you admire your own restraint at not beating him black and blue.

Honestly, that time you met Gun Park, you knew deep in your soul that you had met a kindred spirit. Your eyes connected as Goo was rambling and being his usual deranged self, and you are absolutely certain that the annoyance and murderous intent in his black eyes was also what was reflected in yours.

Anyway- That's a story for another day.

Back to Goo.

He is clingy at the worst of times and flakey when you actually need him. Throws a tantrum if you don't pick up his calls before the third ring though it's fine when he ignores you for days.

Delights in giving cryptic instructions and orders that are less quirky and more deranged riddles, although it is kind of, sort of, a little endearing how much his eyes light up when you finally work out what he's saying.

His sense of personal space and boundary is also unsurprisingly absent. He has a penchant for nicknames that make you cringe and a fondness for slinging his arm around you and cackling in your ear like you're best friends.

Which you know is a lie.

You weren't born yesterday. He’s friends with you precisely because you are not a fool. You know Goo would sell you up the river without a second thought.

But in the end, none of that matters.

You really really can't oversell how good it is to have friends in high places.

Best of all, a friend who seemingly has no issues killing on your behalf and who leaves their own fingerprints all over the scene of the crime.

#lookism #lookism fic #lookism x reader #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim jonggoo #kim jonggoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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hyunjinsjeans · 17 days ago

Text

Can you believe it?

Masterlist

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Related: He Knows Universe: Felix ver.

Summary: You and Felix started your family in an unconventional way but it worked out and in the end you even got a little surprise.

Genre: 🧸 Fluff + ❤️‍🩹 Angst and Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of infertility. Mentions of pregnancy. Health issues are discussed. Half-ass proofreading.

Word Count: 3284

AN: Surprise! I played myself with this one (I want what these two have!) Also, full disclosure: I actually wrote this one months before I even got Felix’s He Knows part 1 done…

You wake up to the sound of your baby girl crying. Your brain does not even register that someone is next to you on the bed, it sparks into "go, go, go!" mode and you jump off the bed to stumble into your slippers and all but run out into the hallway to hear the loud sobs growing louder and louder.

Kiri's cry was desperate, making your heart feel like it was being squeezed in a cruel invisible fist. Your feet carried you in a hurry all the way to her room where you could see her pretty face now all red and wet with tears. You opened your arms at her right away and cooed at the three-year-old.

She put her arms up and let you pick her up as soon as she saw you in the dark. Her sobs started giving way to more silent cries when you held her and handed her the fluffy brown cow print blanket you got her the day you brought her home.

"What is it, baby?" You kissed the top of her head and pulled her up on your hip.

The little girl laid her head on the crook of your neck and you let her settle there while you paced her room from the door to the window.

When people said you were never ready to be a parent, they were right. You knew it already, but adopting Kiri served as confirmation. She was small and sweet, a little girl who knew little more than the system. She was given up as a newborn and although when you and Felix looked for a child to adopt you had anticipated they would probably pair you with an older one, she was what the social worker saw fit. And after almost six months of paperwork and sneaky trips to Australia, you finally got to pick up your daughter at the centre.

You were happy to introduce her to Felix's family and fortunately, Kiri was in a good mood to meet everyone. During the last few days, you have been getting used to life at home in Korea as a family of three. And Kiri has been nothing but happy, her big brown eyes always discovering something to ask about. She clung to you and Felix as if her life depended on it - in a way, you supposed it does, you are her parents now.

This is the first time she wakes you in the middle of the night like this, and you have to wonder what happened? So you ask her.

"Ki, did you have a bad dream?" you rub circles on her back and hear how she calms down.

When you grab a tissue to wipe her face and blow her nose she looked around the room as if she lost something.

"What is it, peach?"

You used her nickname, both you and Felix agreed you would not change her name once you adopted her. She was given a beautiful Maori name that means "fruit", since she loved the soft peaches in Korea you two started calling her "peach".

"Others?" she wonders in response.

You frown for a second and look around, spooked for a moment before a voice of reason resonates inside your head. She meant the other kids in the foster home. When she was in Australia she shared a room with three older girls, it was natural that she was used to wake up in the middle of the night and catch a glimpse of one of the other girls.

"Oh, baby..." you held her tight against your chest. "It's okay, daddy and I are in the other room. You've got us, Ki."

She squeezed her blanket in her tiny hand. You swayed her side to side to cheer her up as your words did not seem to bring her the comfort you expected.

An idea sneaked into your brain and you fake gasped, "I know!" you looked down at her and bopped her pointy little nose. "A glass of warm chocolate milk will fix anything!"

"Milk?" She repeated, interested.

"Mhm!" You inhaled slowly to avoid yawning, "come on, Miss Peach"

You went up to her large crib and showed her the collection of stuffed animals, "are we bringing a friend?" you asked her.

Kiri nodded and pointed at a small rabbit with a pink bow. You reached down and grabbed it for her. Now she pressed the stuffed animal between your chest and her small body.

Once in the kitchen, you went to put her down on one of the tall chairs by the long bar but she protested. A loud panicked scream left her and you immediately held her in your arms. Not too long after, Felix made an appearance around the corner.

His hair was messy from sleeping and he had pulled a white t-shirt on before coming to see what you two were doing.

"Oh, good!" You smiled at him and pointed at the stove, "would you help us warm up some milk?"

Felix's eyes were not yet fully open, but he needed, needing no explanation he came up to you and your daughter and he touched Kiri's head, brushing her soft brown curls back.

"Chocolate?" he asked her in his deep, sleep-filled voice.

Somehow this did not scare Kiri. She looked up and put a side of the blanket under her nose, running it against it with her eyes on the blond.

"Yeah, that'll put us back to sleep in a heartbeat..." Felix looked up at you and showed you a tired side smile.

You watched Felix closely as he put a small pot on the stove and warmed up the milk before adding some powdered chocolate into it and allowing it to come to a simmer. Kiri in your arms stretched her neck to look into the cupboard once you offered to let her pick a sippy cup to drink from. The collection was humble as you had only brought her home to Korea three weeks ago. Still, you showed her the Molang cup and then the Pororo one, she was not super into either so you reached for the Bluey one. This got her attention and she almost dropped her blanket to grab it.

Felix smiled at her when she handed him the plastic cup, he poured a little over half of the cup worth of milk and then split the rest into two mugs for the two of you.

Kiri sat in your lap while you drank the chocolate milk in silence, Felix was sure if he began talking he would end up hyping her up and then you would have to stay up all night to play with her until she fell asleep.

"Hey," Felix whispered a few minutes later when the small girl cuddled into your chest began dozing off.

Your husband grabbed the sippy cup from her hands, catching it in time before it slipped out of her grasp to land on the floor. He put it down beside his mug and leaned over the kitchen bar to check her face. His eyes squinted and he turned to you with a small side smile, whispering again "she's asleep," he looked back at her once more and added, "she's really cute."

You took a sip of your milk and left the mug on the bar before wrapping your arms around her, pulling her closer so she wouldn't twist her neck.

"Yes, she is."

You kissed the top of her head and then watched Felix clean up, washing some of the dirty dishes before coming up to you to help. He grabbed Kiri and held her against his chest to take her to her room. Walking behind him you agreed to bring her into your room so if she woke up again she would not get scared once more. With your baby daughter sound asleep between the two, you and Felix fell asleep quickly.

The next morning you were the last one to wake up, Felix was already making little Kiri laugh. He had grabbed her bunny and made it dance for her, clapping its hands and sending kisses her way. The young child squealed in delight and admired Felix with enthusiasm.

For her good fortune, the two of you were taking a break from work to settle into your new family life. The next couple of days you went everywhere together and even took her to some play dates with the Hwang twins, which she seemed to enjoy more than meeting the younger yet louder Lee Ho-Joon.

You were worried about how she would react when Felix went back to his hectic schedule, and once the time came she was in fact somewhat fussy. She really took a liking to her new Dad and seeing her wander around the house looking for him in the mornings made you feel somewhat guilty. Felix was not much better with it, as soon as he walked through the door he was greeted with the happy yelling of an excited three-year-old, who rather soon began calling him dad. He was fond of the term but you were appalled as she did not call you mom until about the 4 month mark.

Coming into Kiri’s life was a painful ordeal, so her cuddling into you and calling you mommy was the most amazing feeling you’ve experienced.

After you agreed you wanted to have a baby with Felix it did not matter how much you tried or wanted it; your period was still coming and month after month you wondered if you were doing something wrong. A few times you had a late period and those couple of times were the worst. It was heartbreaking when you woke up one morning and saw the red stains of your late period on your underwear. You cried in silence in the bathroom both times it happened, not wanting to let Felix know exactly how useless you were. Because you felt useless. The only thing Felix ever asked of you, and you were unable to give it to him. It was killing you.

And Felix saw right through your strong façade. He knew you were giddy for a couple of days and then you wouldn’t look him in the eye for weeks. He could tell you were growing impatient, then desperate and lastly he saw your light dim. Felix hated what this was doing to you, so he put a stop to it. “It’s hurting you.” He said one day, early morning. You were reading a script in the patio and he drank a smoothie.

You were insistent that you wanted to have a family with him, that it made no sense you couldn’t get pregnant because there was nothing wrong with you. Felix had enough by then. Seeing you grow small and retreat into a quiet sad creature, he could not recognize his wife. He pulled the plug and brought up a new idea to ease your worries. “We could also adopt, you don’t have to go through all this…”

It took a couple of long conversations. You tried your best, gave it your best shot at doing it yourself, you wanted to have that experience with your husband. Bringing life into the world. Having a little boy or girl or whatever they decided to be and have them be half him and half you.

But it just wouldn’t work. And all the trying and trying was hurting you.

In the end adoption was a great option, it did not matter that you were not blood related, it would be your baby - very planned, wanted and loved. Korea was a bit tricky for those things, especially as both of you had foreign passports, so it seemed easier to try to do it in Australia since Felix was born there, everyone helped with the process. His family and yours, even your managers helped by finding a law firm in Sydney to deal with the legal aspect, and Felix made all the arrangements necessary to travel with you for appointments with the social workers. You were over the moon when you got approved and then a few months later the email came in with information on your match.

It was Kiri’s file.

You did not know what to expect then, but it came as a surprise that she was still almost a baby. Felix was relieved but he liked to believe he would have been fine with an older kid as well.

You were instantly in love. Kiri’s drawings spoke of her sweet nature even if they were little more than doodles. She smiled in every single picture and her light brown curly hair reminded you of the foamy sea that surrounded her native land. Kiri was a Lee the moment you signed the documents and you were ready to give up everything for your daughter the moment her eyes met yours. She was so little and innocent, a pure little thing with no clue of what was going on. She had been all smiles when you introduced her to Felix’s sisters and then she won his parents over in a matter of seconds as she played peekaboo with his mom laughing that high pitched laugh that is so characteristic of smaller children.

You finished shooting for your last movie the year before and you were still not confirmed for the press yunket that would follow this year, you wanted to settle down with your family before leaving Felix and Kiri alone. Your time was spent at home, cleaning and cooking, playing with your daughter, dancing around the living room in your socks, going on walks to the park and occasionally watching a kids show with your daughter sitting on your lap. You laughed plenty in Felix’s absence and Kiri could never complain your attention was elsewhere.

Your career was obviously not a priority when you were growing so comfortable in your new role as a mom.

Kiri is still so dependent of you. Preferring to turn to you for food and asking you to go on walks. She calls you mom or mommy on rare occasions though. Maybe, you reason with yourself, the word mom is more difficult than dad. Maybe, the word mom does not come easy to Kiri, who was only a few hours old when her mother made the difficult decision to give her up for adoption.

But you chose to let her be, and let things fall into place on their own. Felix fell into a comfortable routine as well, would be out the door before Kiri was awake but at night he would play with her as soon as he was through the door again. He loved to read her to sleep and tuck her in. He would kiss the top of her head as she drifted to sleep and then he covered her with the blanket.

“I think she is going to outgrow that crib before her birthday,” you told him one day.

“I know,” his eyes opened wide, “she’s growing so fast!”

“Aww, are you upset that your babygirl has bigger hands than you already?” You teased, hugging him and placing your chin against his chest to have a good look at his unamused expression.

“My babygirl could be the size of Godzilla and I’d be a proud dad, but… I wish she could stay small for longer.”

You smiled at him and let go, turning on your heel to go put on your slippers and get breakfast started. If only you hadn’t felt your stomach float around inside you. In an instant there were goosebumps all over your arms and your mouth went dry.

“Love?” He grabbed your elbow to give you support as you tried to ground yourself. “Are you…?”

“I’mgoingtopuke!” You practically spat and ran into the bathroom.

Felix followed you, concerned, and entered the bathroom just as you emptied what little contents were in your stomach from the night before. He pulled your hair back and rubbed your shoulder as if he could soothe you. Throwing up on an empty stomach was horrendous. You did not look sick when you were done and allowing your husband to clean you up in front of the sink.

You did not say a word to one another until you had finished brushing your teeth and felt closer to normal.

“So…” Felix started, pushing his hair back.

You bit your lip and turned to your fingers, counting. Then counting again. You jumped and turned to him with a glint of something in your eye. He saw you and felt himself shift in expectation.

“Do you want to go to the store or should I do it?”

Felix reasoned with himself and smiled at you.

“I’ll do it, Kiri might freak out if she wakes up and you’re not home,” he grabbed your face and pulled you into him to kiss your forehead.

“Get two, different brands.” You instructed, holding onto his arm.

You let his arm slip from your grasp as you watched him go to pull on a jacket and a cap.

He walked out the door soon after and when he came back his heart was racing.

He reached you and gave you the plastic bag, speaking while you both rushed into the bathroom.

“Whatever happens, Y/N, whatever that thing says… love, it’s okay.”

You nodded frantically and at this point you two cared very little about watching each other pee, so he stood there by the bathroom door as you sat at the toilet and opened the two boxes. Felix bit his nails as you skimmed through the instructions before passing them to him. You were in the tricky business of actually peeing on the sticks when a small voice echoed down the hall.

“Eomma?”

Felix jumped and left the paper on the sink, without a word he left to get Kiri out of her crib. Unaware of what happened with her parents, the little girl was thrilled to see daddy was home. She bounced on the crib, small hands gripping the edge of the wooden railing to support herself. Her hands reached for Felix, the strange blond man who had the funniest things to say and the craziest brothers - for all she knew, all of Felix’s members were her uncles.

“G’day Miss Peach!” He pulled her up with a smile on his face.

She allowed for Felix to carry her in his arms as she gave his cheek a loud kiss. Kiri was most definitely a morning person.

“Mommy?” She wondered soon.

“Hmm, she is busy right now,” he explained, “should we go get something to eat? Are you maybe in the mood for… waffles?”

Kiri’s eyes lit up, she cuddled into her father’s chest and the two found their way into the kitchen where you had left things half prepared for breakfast. He started warming up the waffle iron and was setting up a chair for your daughter to watch from when you ran into the open kitchen with a tear stained face and two plastic sticks in your hand.

“We did it!” You yelled, making Felix turn around with Kiri on his hip.

“Mommy!” She made grabby hands in your direction. “What we do?”

You laughed like an insane person and rushed around the island to take her from Felix’s arms.

“We made a little surprise for you, baby!” You held her into your chest and more tears slipped down your face. “But we’re all going to be patient until it get here…”

Felix took the tests from your hand and stared in bewilderment. It was true. It was happening. His eyes found you again, his entire world was right there. His best girls. You and Kiri. You, Kiri and your baby.

He went to put his arms around the two of you, his world was bigger than ever and his heart felt like it was about to burst with happiness and excitement.

“We have been patient,” Felix kissed your wet cheek, then he smiled at your daughter. “We’ll wait some more…”

The two of you shared a look, aware of how delicate the topic was to tell your young daughter right now. But the thought crossed both of your minds: Kiri was growing up fast indeed, so much so that she was going to be a big sister soon.

——— Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

#stray kids x reader #felix x female reader #felix x you #felix x reader #felix x y/n #lee felix fluff #felix fluff #lee felix fanfic #felix fanfic #lee yongbok x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x female reader #hyunjinsjeans writing #he knows universe

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rjk1ve · 24 days ago

Text

HYUNG

author’s note: me when i disappear for eight months without an update and then drop this little number like nothing happened

summary: you and jeongguk had always been close growing up until your parents decided to have you fulfil your mandatory service. upon your discharge a year and a half later, things were not the same.

pairing: older brother!reader x younger brother!jungkook ft. namjoon & hoseok

warnings: incredible amounts of incest, lowkey toxic relationship, reader has anger issues & violent thoughts, some mild drug use (joints, coke), murder, namseok are amazing friends, mentions of child abuse (corporal punishment), a lil bit of angst, and fluff, jk & reader are idiots in love tbh, overprotective reader, jealous reader, smitten reader, making out, mild mentions of sex

Jeongguk used to think it was normal to hold so much love for one’s older brother. His parents had always doted on his attachment to you as kids: the way he’d cried when he had to separate from you on your first day of school, the way he would always sneak into your bed and cuddle with you while you were asleep, the way he would want you to feed him or he wouldn’t eat.

Both of your parents would say you guys were probably supposed to be born as twins rather than two years apart. You and Jeongguk did everything together, never leaving one another’s side, standing up for each other and practically reading each other’s thoughts without any words being spoken.

There was even a time once when your mother was telling Jeongguk off and he started to cry. You were in the other room, having heard the painful sob that had left your little brother’s lips, and it took you less than a minute to appear in the kitchen and pull him behind you, his grip tight around your palm, your nostrils flared.

Your mother had never seen you more angry then. Even as a little boy of ten, she was quite startled by the ferocity in your eyes, as if you could kill her right then and there. She laughs it off nowadays, telling herself the fear had been a silly emotion to feel because whatever could a ten year old really do?

But she wasn’t aware of just the extent you were willing to go for your little brother.

Getting into fights at school, threatening teachers and even grabbing the objects they would use for punishment on Jeongguk back on them. You never let anyone get away with badmouthing Jeongguk and it would quickly circulate around the other kids that the little brother of Jeon M/N was off limits in all regards from mere compliments to dirty looks and bullying. He only hung out with you and your friends but your parents wouldn’t let this go on for very long.

At around the ages of when you and Jeongguk turned 16 and 14 respectively, your parents had begun to worry that this… brotherhood was beginning to edge into muddy waters, especially for you because you’d always get into trouble for Jeongguk and he let it happen.

In fact, there were suspicions that Jeongguk leaned into your overprotective tendencies, sometimes making up pure lies about people just to feel your gentle touch on his cheek, comforting him, telling him you’ll take care of everything. You would return home with splattered blood all over your hands, Jeongguk sniffling and clinging to your sleeve behind you. Your mother had almost collapsed from shock the first time she had seen you like that, and your dad beat you until your own blood was seeping out of your legs and back.

Jeongguk felt terrible. He had cried the whole way through applying ointments to your wounds, unable to look you in the eye.

“I’m sorry. I-I should’ve stood up for you. I shouldn’t have let appa hit you.” He’d said quietly, but you never faulted him for these punishments. It was your choice to confront his bullies and you didn’t care what happened to you in the process of getting revenge.

“Look at me, Gugie.”

Jeongguk felt a rush of appeasement at the loving nickname—something that branded him to you. A nickname that only you were allowed to use. He looked up at you after applying the last of the ointment, face streaked with dry tear tracks.

“I need you to come to me if anyone ever hurts you, okay? Even if it’s only a threat. Come to me. Promise?” You’d asked, holding out your pinky. He’d sniffled, wiping his face as he nods.

“Promise.” He says, interlocking your pinkies together.

Unfortunately, that promise hadn’t lasted very long because by the ages of 17 and 15, your parents had begun to double down on your supposed bad behaviour. Before, Jeongguk used to share a room with you, and then he had his own separate room at the other end of the hall, closer to mom and dad. Neither of you were allowed to spend time together alone. Your dad had said he didn’t want Jeongguk to be influenced by your delinquency and begin to believe that beating people up was the solution to his problems.

You thought it was kind of ironic that the man who loved corporal punishment more than anything would say something so hypocritical.

Of course, you did still try to spend time with Jeongguk regardless. You usually waited for him outside of his classroom during breaks, but apparently your parents had even talked to the teachers, requesting that they keep the two of you separate at all times.

The two of them were like hawks monitoring your every move, and by the age of 18, your dad had made sure you were enlisting in the army for your mandatory service. He knew they’d teach you discipline, that you’d be a changed man once you were back.

Finally, you’d be the perfect son he knew you were capable of being.

──────────

“Aish, do these people not have any manners? Why are they crowding around so much?” Your dad—Wonhyun—grumbles, eyes looking around at the many families that were waiting for their sons to finally be discharged after completing their mandatory service. Your mother—Miran—slaps him on the arm lightly, shushing him.

“They’re only here for the same reasons we are. Where else would they go?” She asks, her eyes searching, waiting for the doors to open and the swarm of men to come out. This would be the first time she’ll have seen you in nearly two years, your father insisting that time apart from the family would do you good.

“They couldn’t have set a-” Wonhyun starts to say, but that’s when the doors to the training centre begin to open and men dressed in military uniforms begin to file out with smiles on their faces, some even jogging towards their family in the crowd. Your mother is very eager, attempting to stand on her tiptoes to find you but you’d grown exceptionally well over the years.

Your head towers over the herd, having been one of the tallest in your group of comrades, and so it only took you all of ten seconds to find your parents waving at you with bright smiles, jumping to get your attention. A half smile spreads itself across your lips, and you raise your hand in a wave as you make your way over to them.

Your comrades pat you on the back, congratulating you on completing your enlistment and telling you to reach out soon for drinks. You chuckle and nod, ruffling some of the boys’ hair before you drop your duffle bag in front of your mother who nearly has tears in her eyes, unable to believe you were standing there in front of her after so long.

“N/N…” She starts, covering her mouth with a small sniffle before a shaky hand reaches up to touch your cheek. You have to bend down for her small arm to reach, and you rest your own palm on top of her hand.

“Eomma, really, the first thing you’re gonna do is cry after not seeing your son for over a year?” You tease lightly, and she laughs through her tears, shaking her head before she wraps both of her arms around you. You were able to lift her off of her feet easily, hugging her tight.

“We missed you so much, M/N-ie. The house wasn’t the same without you.” She says quietly, caressing your hair as you put her down.

“I’m here now. We’ll liven up the place again.” You promise, wiping her tears away. She nods, and then you turn to your father who stands tall and proud as he watched you greet your mother.

“Son,” He greets, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Look at you… an upstanding citizen, just completed your service… you’re like a completely different person from before you left. I’m proud of you.”

He pulls you into a hug, patting your back, and you smile, taking in his warm embrace. It’s when they can’t see your face, though, that your jaw locks and the smile slips from your lips. You hug him tightly, your arms squeezing around his waist to a point where Wonhyun makes a noise of surprised discomfort.

“Thank you, sir.” You reply politely, pulling away as the smile returns to your face. “I won’t let you down ever again.”

“You’ve gotten quite strong the past year and a half, haven’t you? That’s quite the grip.” Wonhyun says, clearing his throat as he pretends to act unfazed. He claps you on your shoulder but it seems he does it more lightly this time, almost as if cautious of what you might be capable of.

This was new.

He’d never shown much fear of you during your teenage years. Perhaps because he was aware you were simply a child and nothing more, but now, looking at you… well you were vastly different from the boy he remembered sending into this training centre. You were bigger, far bigger than he thought you’d end up becoming.

He hadn’t expected you to continue growing well into your military years. He only expected you to come out of this being more mature and disciplined so that you’d listen to him when he’d instructed you with a task.

“Miran, here, take a photo of us.” Wonhyun says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, but your eyebrows furrow as you notice it was only your mom and dad with you. Your eyes search for another figure and your dad quickly realises who you were looking for.

“He-he’s not here, M/N.” Your dad says, tensing when you look down at him, your eyebrows furrowing deeper. You pull away from the loose hand your dad had settled on your back for the photo.

“What do you mean he’s not here? Was he held up with something else? Traffic? Is he running late?” You ask, your eyes turning to your mother. She only stares at Wonhyun however, a semblance of worry in her eyes that you caught onto. Your dad attempts to pull you back into your previous pose for the photo.

“Let’s take the photo first, okay? I’ll explain on the ride home.” Wonhyun says, and you have the urge to shove his head into the dirt covered floor but you refrain. Instead, you nod silently, knowing you needed to keep up your ‘good boy’ attitude at least until you found out where Jeongguk was.

──────────

“Dude, are you sure you’re good? What’s your plan?” Hoseok asks, watching you closely from his seat on the couch to your left. He’d stopped lining up his powder on the table at the news, unsure of how you’d react. Namjoon was also watching you over the rim of his glass of whiskey, his seat on the opposite side of the table in front of the three of you.

Even in the dark den of Hoseok’s office, the glint in your eyes was practically palpable. The music from the dance floor in the main room thrummed through the walls and floor, vibrating all throughout your body as you swirled your own glass of whiskey in one hand, arm spread across the head of the couch. Your eyes were unfocused, your mind drifted in a sea of thoughts.

After a moment, you speak, “Should I kill them?”

The guards dotted around the room share looks with one another but no one says anything. Hoseok is immediately stunned, frozen in place. Namjoon continues to watch you intently, unfazed, studying your features for a sign of any tell that you were asking a genuine question.

You await a response—any at all, but no one speaks up, causing you to lift your gaze, glancing between Hoseok and Namjoon with a raised brow.

“What, you think I shouldn’t do it?” You challenge, although your tone sounds nothing like a challenge being raised, instead sounding more like a genuine question of curiosity. Namjoon knew you better than that. He notices the quirk of your lips; a tell.

“Whatever you do, you know I’ve got your back.” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his whiskey. Hoseok stares at Namjoon in disbelief before glancing down at his powdered lines in front of him. He sighs.

“Oh fuck me. Whatever. Sure.” He waves his hand dismissively before finally going in for his first line. He lets out a satisfied hum and goes in for another. You smirk, chuckling a little as you finish the rest of your drink.

“Good to know I have such reliable friends, hm?” You settle your empty glass on the table, sitting up.

“We know how much he means to you.”

Your eyes meet Namjoon’s. He’s always been able to read you like a book, almost reminding you of the boy that was the catalyst to this entire discussion. You’d met him during your military service alongside Hoseok and the three of you got along really well. You had each other’s backs in there, leaving many to bow down at your feet.

“Who’s that? A friend?” Namjoon had asked upon catching you staring down at a photograph of yourself next to another boy. It was taken during winter; the floors were covered in snow, the scenery blessed with white. You and Jeongguk were layered up in thick woolly scarves, jackets, and gloves but you could still make out the younger boy’s pink nose. His eyes scrunched shut as he laughed at a joke you’d made as you stared down at him, holding him close.

Your eyes don’t waver from the photograph. Your thumb brushes over his delighted figure. You missed him dearly. Namjoon watches you, eyes the way you seem so nostalgic and even forlorn.

“My brother.” You’d told him quietly. It had been three months now since you’d enlisted. You’d received one call from him in the beginning, asking you all about your service and how everything was going, wanting to know you were okay, but that was it. You hadn’t heard his sweet voice since, and you knew your parents had something to do with it.

Namjoon leans up on his elbows beside you, legs still settled inside his sleeping bag. Hoseok was to your left, already fast asleep as he snored, mouth agape.

“Why don’t you visit him during leaves? Seems like you miss the guy.”

Your grip on the photo tightens before you tuck it into your pocket, not wishing to crumple or ruin the memory. It was the only physical reminder you had of him that you were allowed to keep close to you.

“My dad won’t let me see him. Thinks I’m a bad influence.” You scoff, getting into your sleeping bag. Namjoon doesn’t say much, something telling him that the solutions coming to his head weren’t as easy as they seemed, but he does notice your bitter expression. He could tell you weren’t content with your current circumstances.

“I’m here if you ever wanna talk about him. Clearly, he must mean a lot to you.”

A small smile forms itself on your lips. You nod, grateful.

“He means everything to me.”

──────────

“And you’re sure he’s there?” Namjoon asks, eyes on the passing scenery through the tinted window of the limousine. Hoseok rolls his eyes, blowing on a joint.

“Yes, asshole. I’ve had my guys working on this for the past two weeks now, alright? He’s definitely there.” Hoseok grumbles, taking another puff of his joint with a contented sigh before passing it over to you. You take it, inhaling a puff of your own to calm your nerves. You’ve been on edge for the past two weeks now, ever since Hoseok offered to have his guys look for Jeongguk.

Your parents had kicked him out only a couple of months after your enlistment because of some bullshit about ‘straying from the path of God’ that you’d tuned out immediately. It had taken everything in you not to grab the nearest knife from the kitchen table then, stabbing them over and over again until their bodies were so disfigured that they were completely unrecognisable.

Being in the military changed you. It taught you how to control your anger issues like your father wanted but it also resulted in you manifesting sudden, more violent thoughts than you’d had previously as a result of holding in your emotions.

Hoseok pours you a glass of vodka, noticing your tensed physique. He could tell you were nervous about seeing Jeongguk again after nearly two years, unsure of how the male may react. Knowing that he wasn’t the same kid that you’d left behind.

“It’ll be alright. I’m sure he’s been missing you just as much.” Hoseok attempts to comfort, nudging your knee with his own and jutting his chin towards the glass of vodka. You hand Namjoon the joint next and grab the glass, necking almost half of it without a second thought.

Hoseok whistles lowly, watching you.

“Maybe slow down just a little bit. You don’t wanna meet him for the first time in ages and not remember the encounter, do you?”

You grunt, knowing he had a point before placing your glass in the cup holder. The rest of the ride to the club is filled with some mild chatter, Hoseok choosing to keep the blunt between himself and Namjoon so as to make sure you were of sound mind for this interaction.

He had worked hard to find Jeongguk’s usual spot and so he wasn’t going to let this meeting go to waste. He wanted to make sure you’d remember it and thank him for being such a great friend who’d brought you back together with your brother.

“Alright, alright! Everyone shut the fuck up. We’re pulling up now.” Hoseok announces, recognising the street from the pictures his men had sent him. Your body tenses again, glancing out of the window to see as the limo pulled up in front of the entrance to the club.

It wasn’t nearly as lavish as Hoseok’s nightclub (which was known as Seoul’s hotspot) but it was okay regardless. It’s what one would expect downtown.

There was an average line of customers waiting to be let in and two bouncers guarding the front doors. Namjoon waits as the chauffeur moves to open the door on his side of the car, allowing him to get out, and Hoseok follows suit. The chauffeur then proceeds to make his way to other side and open the door for you as you hop out and make your way around to your two friends.

People in the queue begin to whisper, muttering amongst themselves at your suave entrance and arrival in an expensive car. All three of you were dressed in branded clothes courtesy of Hoseok who never let his friends wear anything that wasn’t designer.

Hoseok leads the way to the entrance and the bouncer seems to recognise him immediately. He opens the door personally with a small bow of respect. Your eyebrow raises before remembering Hoseok was very well known in this industry. Or practically Seoul in general.

“Garnered quite the reputation for yourself, have you?” Namjoon queries with a small smile. Hoseok shrugs as you guys enter the main room of the club with ease. He grabs the nearest shot glass from a bartender’s tray, necking it. You and Namjoon decide to hold off on the alcohol for now.

“Okay, he usually comes here every Friday around 8:30. I’ve booked us the VIP seating over there,” Hoseok bellows over the music, pointing to the open lounge that was sectioned off from the dance floor. You nod, your eyes on the dance floor instead of the VIP lounge even though it was only 8 right now.

If Hoseok was right about this, you still had another half an hour until he showed.

“Why did we come so early then?” Namjoon asks. Your eyes return to Hoseok, wanting an answer to that question as well.

“To have fun! Let loose a little! Or don’t and go chill out at the lounge. I’m here to hit the dance floor.” He says, and before either you or Namjoon can say anything, he’s already made his way past the crowds of people everywhere and onto the dance floor. You grumble to yourself and Namjoon rests a hand on your shoulder, gesturing to the lounge.

You follow after him, noticing how the lounge is set on a slightly higher level than the dance floor. A guard is stationed by the steps and he asks for your names. Namjoon tells him, and the guy checks his list before nodding and moving aside.

“Enjoy.” He says as you and Namjoon head over towards the leather couch. It was similar to Hoseok’s office back at his club with a glass table settled in front of the two of you and dim lights secured above that you can control the colours of.

Namjoon makes himself comfortable, unbuttoning his blazer as his eyes scan the club with its flashy, LED dance floor and sweaty couples grinding up on each other. He also sees Hoseok already has someone pulling him close and whispering in (or maybe kissing?) his ear. Namjoon chuckles, turning his attention to you.

“So, what’s your plan?” He asks casually, and you raise your brow at him. “You know, when he’s here. Are you just gonna go up and talk to him?”

You weren’t sure what the fuck you were gonna do in all honesty. You’d made it this far but you hadn’t thought you’d find him in the first place, simply going along with the flow of events that Hoseok had somehow constructed. You wonder how Jeongguk may react, how he looks, whether he’s changed or stayed the same.

“I don’t know.” You tell him with a long sigh, your eyes on the dance floor. “I haven’t seen him in over a year, I haven’t talked to him even once. For all I know, he might not want anything to do with me.”

Namjoon listens to your worries intently, nodding. Although he hasn’t been in your predicament before, he understands your feelings. It’s rare for a person to stay the same over such a long period of time, especially teenagers.

From what he can recall, you and Jeongguk had about a two year age gap, making him 18 this year. He probably has his own thoughts and feelings about everything.

“I don’t think it’d be that extreme.” Namjoon says, “He might be upset about stuff, might even be upset with you, but he’ll come around. I don’t think he can hate you forever.”

You chuckle at his wisdom. “You don’t even know the guy, Joon. He can throw a mean tantrum.”

Namjoon shrugs although there��s a smile to his lips. “Your stories about him are enough for me.”

And that’s basically how you spend the next half an hour, talking about Jeongguk, telling Namjoon more stories about his silly tantrums he’d throw when you’d upset him over something.

He would often lock himself in your shared room and only open it when it was time for bed because otherwise he knew dad would yell at him. He wouldn’t make eye contact, he wouldn’t talk and to your surprise, he would even choose to sleep in his own bed.

This sort of stuff could go on for days unless you tried to ask for forgiveness, pulling crazy antics and buying him his favourite toys or food using your own pocket money. Sometimes you’d even have to dress in the most embarrassing outfits in public just to get that cute little laugh out of him.

Hopefully, you won’t have to do anything too crazy here. Hopefully, Jeongguk would be happy to see you.

──────────

“Dudes, he’s on his way. Get ready.” A tipsy Hoseok says half an hour later, having pushed through the crowd which seems to have only gotten bigger. You’d had one glass of vodka throughout your entire wait here. This was probably a record for you.

“I’ll stay here. M/N probably wants to meet him alone, right?” Namjoon asks, looking over at you. You nod, your foot bouncing like crazy on the tiled floor.

Since when were you so nervous to meet your own brother?

Hoseok decides to wait with you from his position just below the lounge on the main floor, hand on the railing and looking out at the crowd for any signs of the young male.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes track the doors that lead to the entrance, waiting.

And then, you see him.

For a moment, you wonder if you were simply imagining things. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light and so you blink continuously, leaning forward in your seat, eyes squinted and yet he’s still here, making his way through the crowd towards the bar which was located just a few feet away from your lounge.

Your breath catches in your throat, even swallowing felt difficult.

He was here. He was really here.

And he looked completely different. Nothing like the young boy you’d remembered, as if all semblance of the Jeongguk you had known were lost and buried within this new look he was sporting. He’d grown his hair out into a wavy bob and he’d gotten just a little bit taller. His body was slim yet toned, barely covered by the denim jacket he was wearing which revealed his stomach through the cropped white shirt. He’d even worn a loose tie and chains. He looked absolutely ravishing.

You could barely help yourself. Your cock was stirring eagerly in your pants before you’d even realised, and as Jeongguk turned slightly after receiving his drink, you caught a shimmer bounce off of his lip from the light. It was a lip piercing.

Now you could see why your parents had kicked him out. He was considered an abomination, moreso to your father who always envisioned his sons as the most traditional sort of macho man.

Jeongguk was nothing like that. He was more of a spoonful of cardinal sin that was awaiting hungry prey. Someone that wanted to be ravished, not take girls to church and smile shyly over dinner. You had to go talk to him.

Namjoon who was analysing Jeongguk turns to you when he feels you shift. Hoseok doesn’t notice shit, seemingly just as enamoured by Jeongguk’s presence as you, his eyes unwavering from the male’s physique.

“You gonna go over there?” Namjoon asks, but as you go to answer, you notice Jeongguk is now beginning to make his way to the extremely crowded dance floor and you’d lost him just like that. It was too difficult to find him with so many people squeezed together there. You growl lowly, unhappy.

Hoseok finally turns to both you and Namjoon, confused at what was going on. “What’s up? You gonna go find him? He’s supposed to be here until quite late so you have plenty of time, M/N-ah. Don’t fret.” The male comforts. You nod, trying to take a deep breath. You hated crowded areas, especially when they were filled with sweaty and horny teenagers.

“You go on. I’ll be here.” Namjoon states as you get up. You head down to Hoseok’s level before turning to the crowd.

“We can split up and look for him. I’ll ring you if I find him. Keep your phone on vibrate.” He leans in to say, and you nod as you pull out your phone, turning on vibrate. Hoseok pats you on your shoulder. “We’ll find him.” And then, he leaves.

You also start to make your way to the dance floor and it’s immediately stuffy the closer you get. Everywhere you look there’s couples grinding up on each other and making out, some even attempting to invite you into their little rendezvous but you were only interested in one individual.

You weren’t even sure where exactly you were on the dance floor or how far along you’d travelled by the time you were sweating through your top and your feet were beginning to ache. The crowd moved in weird ways and directions, leaving you to guess how much ground you’d covered. And Jeongguk would probably be dancing right now too, meaning he must be moving around at all times.

All of it felt hopeless. You were getting more and more annoyed as people tried to talk to you or show interest or offer to buy you drinks. You weren’t interested and you didn’t know how many more times those words would have to leave your lips before you popped a vein.

But then as if sensing your distress, you’d found him again. There he was in all of his glory, a sheen of sweat cascading down his neck, his toned stomach and collarbones. His hair, which you’d only now realised was dyed auburn, was sticking to his forehead, head thrown back and denim jacket wrapped around his waist.

As you pushed through the crowd to make your way to him, you paused. Another figure had wrapped their arms around his waist, moving in sync with his hips. Jeongguk seemed to revel in the attention, resting his hand on top of the stranger’s which only caused the man to become braver.

It was enough to have you charging through the crowd instead of politely squeezing past. You didn’t apologise or bow, you didn’t care who was being knocked to the ground as you shoved and shoved until there was enough of an opening for you to throw a punch. Some people screamed, attempting to back away as the stranger stumbled but you didn’t hold back.

You punched him again and again until he had fallen to the ground, unable to understand what was going on. He hadn’t even caught a glimpse of your face as you moved to cage him between your knees, your vision red with anger, your knuckles dripping with blood.

He was already unconscious by the time someone had grabbed you by your waist and pulled you off of the man. His face was bloodied, unrecognisable, almost like the carcass a dead animal leaves after they’re done with their prey. Your breath was heavy and laboured and you’d turned to see it was Hoseok who was holding you back, eyebrows furrowed and his eyes filled with worry.

The music had stopped by now and some people were trying to leave, causing a panic. Then you remembered Jeongguk. Your eyes searched for the male but he was nowhere in sight. He’d disappeared.

“We have to leave, M/N.” Hoseok says, and you knew he was right. Looking down at the unconscious body again, you still felt a burst of hatred, causing you to spit on him before Hoseok started to pull you away towards the back of the club. Apparently there was another exit this way that not many people knew about.

Namjoon met you guys by the back of the club. He was still his composed self even after the havoc inside.

“What happened?”

“What happened? What happened?! He fucking lost it, that’s what happened, Joon! Jesus fucking Christ, I mean, I think the guy might be dead!” Hoseok exclaims, running his fingers through his hair. Namjoon’s eyes scan over your bloodied figure, from your clothes to your knuckles and even your face. He pulls out a handkerchief and offers it to you. You take it gratefully.

“We gotta get outta here. We can’t be seen here. I’ll talk to the owner about getting rid of tapes and evidence. She’s my friend. I’ll bribe the cops if I have to. It’ll be fine.” Hoseok says, although seemingly more to himself than anyone else. He pulls out his phone to call the limo to the back of the club.

Namjoon continues to keep his eye on you as you brush whatever amount of blood you can from your knuckles and face. Your mind was still plastered with images of that man’s hands on Jeongguk. The way he was guiding Jeongguk’s body like he owned it.

He deserved a way worse death than he’d received if he really died. Nobody puts hands on your Jeongguk. He belonged to you. He was yours ever since he was born, and nobody will ever change that.

You’d make sure of it.

As the limo arrives, you, Hoseok and Namjoon all get into the car before it speeds away as far as possible from the club.

──────────

You spend the next couple of days at Hoseok’s apartment while he attempts to get the situation at the club sorted out. You’d told your parents you were staying with a friend from your service and so they didn’t ask many more questions.

“You ready to tell us what happened?” Namjoon asks, sitting opposite you in the living room. He’d been visiting everyday since the incident. Hoseok had offered to lend him one of his spare bedrooms but the male refused. He just wanted to check up on you. You were advised not to wonder about outside until everything had settled down.

“The bastard was feeling him up.” You spit, and even though it had been a few days now since that night, the memory was raw and fresh as if it were happening right in front of you all over again. Hoseok had informed you that the guy did indeed die that night from blood loss. The footage had been deleted upon his request but your DNA was found on the scene and so Hoseok is currently discussing prices for sweeping everything under the rug.

You probably owe him a lifetime of debt for this. You make a mental note to thank him later, his muffled voice flowing through the other room as he spoke with someone on the phone. Namjoon raises a brow, urging you to continue. You remain silent and the male sighs.

“Come on, M/N-ah. I’m not here to judge or berate you. I wanna know what happened so I can help you.” He tries to reason. You can tell he’s been stressing over this as much as Hoseok has.

You pour him a glass of soju, sliding it across the table to him. It’s what you’d been drinking for the past few days yourself so you didn’t lose your damn mind wondering what happened to Jeongguk.

The way he’d just disappeared without saying a word to you. He hadn’t even tried to intervene in your fight, but well, he never usually did even when you were still kids. He did, however, wait for you.

Every time you were beating on his bullies, he would stay a safe distance away like you’d instructed and he’d wait until you were done, offering his hand through tear stained cheeks which you’d take before guiding him home. You would wipe his tears just before you’d open your front door, his face staining with the blood on your hands.

“He was feeling him up, Joon. Are you saying that wasn’t reason enough to beat his ass?” You ask, sitting up straighter. Namjoon grabs the glass of soju you’d poured for him and takes a big gulp.

“Did it look forced?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Did it look forced? Was Jeongguk struggling to get away from the guy?” He asks, watching you with a level gaze. Your eyes narrow, feeling like you were being interrogated.

“What are you, a cop? Why does it matter?” You shot back, and Namjoon notices you’re getting irritated by his line of questioning. He wasn’t trying to rile you up and so he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Look, M/N. You killed a guy that night. I told you before that I’d back you up no matter what, didn’t I? And I’m still holding you to that promise, but only if I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.” Namjoon says seriously, his usually calm and stoic demeanour now firm, “I need to know how you feel about him because from what I’ve seen so far, this bond runs deeper than brotherhood.”

The room is eerily quiet for a moment as Namjoon waits for your response. He gives you time to let the words sink in, your mind drifting into a sea of thoughts.

How did you feel about him?

Standing there by the bar, you remember the way your cock had twitched in your pants at the mere sight of him. The way you wish you could’ve run your fingers along his tan skin and pinch his nipples through that crop top, the way you wish you could’ve shoved him onto his knees to suck you off in front of everyone.

Your cock stirs again at all of these thoughts but your gaze never wavers from Namjoon’s patient one. You give him a half smile, lying back in your seat.

“If you have to ask me, you must already know the answer.”

And you watch with a tilted head as it dawns upon Namjoon in real time that his suspicions were correct. His lips part as if to say something, but for the first time, no words come out. He only nods instead.

“Anything else?”

He shakes his head, downing the last of his soju. He’s silent for a minute longer, staring down at the coffee table and seemingly trying to get his thoughts in order. It’s your turn to be patient as you wait for the knowledge of your answer to truly sink into his head.

And that’s also around about the time that Hoseok makes his entrance into the living room again, slightly relieved.

“Good news. The officer in charge of the case has agreed to sweep this situation under the rug for a reasonable compensation. You should be off the hook by the end of the day.” He states cheerily, looking between you and Namjoon before his smile drops into a confused look. “The fuck is going on with him?”

Namjoon was still processing your confession so you take over the conversation in his place, your eyes turning to Hoseok.

“Joon-ah was asking me about my feelings regarding Jeongguk.” You start, glancing at said male who looks back at you carefully, “I simply told him the truth.”

It takes Hoseok a second to understand what you were getting at before his lips part in an ‘O’ and he bursts out laughing.

“Woah, woah, wait. You didn’t know?” Hoseok asks in shock, making his way over to the both of you. Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, looking back at Hoseok and then you.

“He knew? You told him?” Namjoon asks, also disbelieving. You shrug half heartedly as Hoseok takes a seat beside him, slapping him on his shoulder.

“Dude, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Wasn’t it obvious? I mean, he’s been acting like some lovesick puppy ever since we first met. You’re dumb as fuck.” Hoseok comments, earning a slap on the back of his head from Namjoon who tsks.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You smirk, leaning forward to pour Hoseok, Namjoon and yourself a glass of soju again. You clink your glasses and take a sip.

“Seok-ah,” You say, and Hoseok nods, showcasing he’s listening, “Can you find out where he lives at all? An address I could visit?”

Hoseok gives you a look, sighing as he takes a long sip of his soju.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

──────────

Checking the address on your phone and the picture of the building attached to it, you compare the two to make sure you had the right place. Jeongguk apparently lived in a shabby apartment complex not too far from that club you’d visited, which made sense as to how he must’ve left so quickly. It wasn’t a very long walk.

The neighbourhood was noisy and smelt funny. The trash was overflowing near the bins as you made your way up the steps towards the entrance. The lightbulb was flickering and there was not a single security in sight. You open the glass doors into reception to see the person at the desk was fast asleep in an awkward angle on the chair.

Ignoring him, you decided to take the stairs to the second floor where Jeongguk lived. According to Hoseok, he lived just near the end of the hall, door number 108. Your heart was practically hammering in your chest as you walked past each door, closer and closer to the apartment which contained your beloved little brother behind its walls.

It’s when you’re standing right in front of his door that you begin second guessing yourself however.

Would he even want to see you? If the encounter at the club was anything to go by, he clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But he could also just be upset. Perhaps all he needed was an apology and an explanation and you could make amends like old times. He was always quite forgiving with you. Namjoon had said he thought so too and he hadn’t even met Jeongguk.

You take a deep breath. You can see the light was switched on through the gap at the bottom of the door, meaning he was home. Your knuckles feel stiff as you raise them to knock on the door, your brain going into overdrive over all the possible consequences that this could lead to. Jeongguk could say he wants you out of his life forever and then what would you do? You’d have to listen to him, wouldn’t you?

Closing your eyes, you push these thoughts to the back of your head and knock on his door gently. Nothing happens for a second but then his honey voice speaks up through the door.

“Gimme a minute! I’m coming!” And you hear footsteps shuffle about inside the apartment as if in a hurry. You wonder what he could be possibly doing, perhaps tidying up the space a bit in what little time he could, having not expected any guests. A small smile crosses your lips at the thought, your fingers combing through your hair.

Soon, you hear his footsteps approaching closer and closer and you brace yourself, your body tensing. The door swings open, and your eyes instantly meet with brown hues curtained by auburn bangs that fall over Jeongguk’s eyes. Your lips pull into a bright, charming smile of their own accord at witnessing your little brother’s face up close after so long but he doesn’t reciprocate.

The polite and yet embarrassed bunny smile plastered on his lips vanished immediately upon realising it was you stood on his front doorstop and your heart sinks at his reaction. His eyes had turned cold and hostile, his lips pulling into a deep frown. You barely had time to even register what he was wearing before the door began to swing close, and you had to snap out of your thoughts in order to wedge yourself through the gap enough so that he couldn’t close it fully.

He did not take kindly to this gesture, attempting to shove you away with as much force as he could muster but you’d always been bigger and stronger than him. He had no chance against you, especially not after taking into account your military training now.

“Jeongguk-ah, I just wanna talk to you! Why are you being like this?”

He doesn’t reply, still attempting to shove you out so that he can close the door. He growls when his efforts only seem to go in vain because you don’t budge an inch, watching him with saddened eyes. He’s never acted this way with you before. You’d never seen him so upset with you.

“Let me in, hm? I just want to talk. I haven’t seen you in months.” You reason, your hand wrapping around the edge of the door to push it open further. Jeongguk tries to unhook your fingers.

“Fuck! off!” He says with force, and it’s the first words to leave his mouth since you’d last seen him. They were words of pure hatred and venom, nothing like the soft spoken honeyed voice that usually greeted you like you were the only man that existed on this earth.

What did you do to receive so much hate from him? Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“Is this how it’s gonna be? You won’t even tell me what’s going on with you anymore? You’re gonna shut me out?”

“I have nothing to say to you. Who the fuck even are you to me?!” He exclaims, fury burning in his eyes and veins. You think you even see hints of tears welling up in those doe eyes and it weakens you. You just want to hold him close.

“Jeong-” As you go to comfort him, he pushes you with renewed vigour that has you stumbling back in shock. He’s panting now, tears along his lash line as he watches you.

“Leave before I call the cops.” And with that, he slams the door shut in your face. You could barely comprehend what had just happened, your mind racing with images of how he’d looked at you just then, the way he spoke so harshly to you like you’d betrayed him.

It made you want to kill yourself to be the reason for Jeongguk’s distress. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

You stare at the 108 plated on his door, knowing he was still there on the other side. You didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t leave. He can call the cops if he wishes to. You weren’t going anywhere.

It was a pathetic move but you decided to settle yourself in front of his door, back pressed to it with a sigh, fingers tugging on the roots of your hair in frustration. He was being so stubborn and you didn’t understand why or what you’d done to cause this. You just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be with him.

You don’t know how long you’d sat there in front of his door before you were sound asleep, your body fatigued from the stress and cold air that seemed to seep through into the hallway.

──────────

Hours later, your eyes flutter open to be met with a cream coloured ceiling. Your vision is still bleary from having just woken up and you blink a few times, a little dazed and confused as you look around at your surroundings.

You were in some sort of living room, looking down to see your body laid out on a couch that wasn’t big enough to fit the entirety of you in, your calves dangling over the edge. The TV was on, the telecast showcasing a news reporter talking about the incident at the club. The smell of laundry detergent and matcha wafted in the air, only confusing you further.

You start to sit up, noticing you were dressed in your clothes from yesterday and that’s when you remember your encounter with Jeongguk from yesterday, how you had accidentally fallen asleep on his doorstep. And it’s like Jeongguk senses your recollection because he enters the living room with a cup of warm tea exactly then, seeming unfazed when your eyes meet his and they widen.

“G-guk?” You ask, wondering whether you were still on his front doorstep fast asleep and this was just a very lucid dream. He doesn’t say anything, instead placing the cup of tea on the coffee table in front of you.

Why is it every place had a coffee table these days?

You stare down at the tea for a moment. Jeongguk had made this with his very own hands for you and it makes your heart swell, but you’re still confused, looking up to see him standing a few feet away now with crossed arms.

“Guk-ah, I-I wanted to talk to you. Can we talk?” You ask, hopeful. His stance is firm, he doesn’t give anything away.

“Drink your tea. I want you gone before 10.” He says, glancing over at the clock resting above his door that reads 9:20am. You follow his gaze and your shoulders slump in defeat, having thought he was finally willing to talk after this gesture.

“What did I do to upset you?” You ask lowly, and you notice the way he tenses at the question, attempting to maintain eye contact. “You hate me and I don’t even know why. You won’t talk to me so how can I know what’s wrong, Guk-ah? I need to know what I did before I can fix my mistake.”

“I told you to drink your tea and leave. I didn’t give you permission to ask me questions.” He spits, working his jaw. He was wearing an oversized white shirt that spilled over his shoulder and plain grey joggers. You stand up slowly, deciding this might just be the only chance you’ll have at getting the truth out of him.

Jeongguk starts to become cautious as he watches you tower to your full height, as if you were some sort of threat. It was beginning to irritate you more than upset you now, you didn’t understand his reactions. You’d never hurt him.

“Are you scared of me? Me?” You ask in disbelief, moving around the coffee table. He holds his hand out, taking a step back.

“Don’t come any closer. I’m warning you. I’ll scream.” He says, trying to sound firm but his voice comes out shaky as he takes a deep breath. You watch him, analysing if he would really go to such extremes to keep you away. You take a step forward.

Jeongguk doesn’t scream.

“Stay back! Are you fucking deaf? I brought you in here because I felt some pity. Don’t make me regret it.”

You ignore him, taking another step forward. Jeongguk backs away again, keeping his hand up. There were tears welling up in his eyes but they didn’t seem to be from fear, moreso out of desperation that you’d listen to his pleas.

“I’m not gonna keep doing this, Guk. You know I won’t hurt you. You’re my little brother. I want us to be okay again. That’s all I want.” You tell him honestly, taking another step forward. You keep your hands in front of you, raised ever so slightly so he knows you’re not a threat. He continues to back away until he’s pressed up against the wall, and you take that as your opportunity to cage him. He realises this and he cries, those tears flowing freely now.

“Stay back! Please, please, hyung! I can’t have you near me. Stay back. Please!” He cries, and you freeze mere inches from him. The hand he’d held up to keep you away pressed against your chest as he looks down, trying to control his emotions. You’d only ever seen him break down like this over his bullies, when he’d come to you to ask for help.

“Gugie…” Your own voice breaks at the sight, and the beloved nickname that Jeongguk had heard so many times makes him cry harder, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your shirt tightly almost like he was trying to ground himself. You couldn’t hold back then, pulling him close and wrapping him up in your strong arms, shushing his cries gently as you placed a kiss to his auburn waves.

“My baby,” You comfort, your voice soft and loving even after all the things he’d said to you, the way he treated you. It didn’t matter to you because you knew he was hurting. You wanted to help him. He wraps his arms around your waist, crying into your shoulder so hard he was practically shaking. You place kisses along his temple, letting him cry. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a while.

You guide him over to the couch when he begins to settle down a little bit, wiping his tears away with the pads of your thumb and pushing a stray strand of auburn hair behind his ear. You caress his cheek as he holds your wrist, his eyes looking between both of yours in a back and forth motion.

“Talk to me, baby,” You tell him, and his grip tightens on your wrist, his eyes landing on his lap. Your eyebrows furrow, lifting his chin so that he was facing you again. “Nothing to be afraid of. I’ve got your back, haven’t I?” You say, a small smile on your lips.

Surprisingly, he mirrors it with a small nod and it makes you want to kiss him until you’re both breathless. He takes a deep breath, inching closer to you, always finding safety in your presence.

“I-I’m sorry for not checking up on you during your service.” He starts weakly, and you shake your head. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you don’t interrupt him. You needed to know what had happened while you were away. “Appa said I would only serve as a distraction to you if I called you all the time.

“He’d take my phone during those hours when he knew you could call, hyung. I-I wanted to reach out somehow so I tried to-” He takes a deep breath and you wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I tried to sneak my phone back from him. When he realised what I was trying to do… he-he hurt me. He would hit me over and over until-”

There was a sudden, loud ringing in your ears, cutting off the rest of Jeongguk’s sentence as it doubled down on those few words.

He hurt me. He would hit me over and over.

Your father hurt him. You’d promise to protect Jeongguk from harm and yet your father hurt him and you weren’t there to keep your promise.

No wonder he didn’t want anything to do with you. The thought itself was making you feel sick and queasy, like you shouldn’t even have the right to touch him, hold him like you’re doing. Jeongguk notices you lost in thought, and he shakes you gently, his grip loosely holding onto your shirt.

“Was-was it the same?” You ask quietly, and Jeongguk knows what you mean. He nods, slowly moving to turn around so that his back was facing you and with shaky fingers, you watch as he pulls his shirt over his head to reveal valleys of scars lining every possible expanse of skin on his back, many of them interconnecting and others looking like they’ve been reopened more than once.

He did this. He hurt Jeongguk in the exact manner he hurt you when you disobeyed his rules, grabbing his belt in a fit of uncontrolled rage that wouldn’t disappear until there was blood spilling onto the floor. You never cared when it happened to you, but right now, as your fingers gently trace the lines on his back and see the way Jeongguk flinches every now and again, your blood boils beneath your skin.

You would not let him get away with this.

“I ran away after a little while. It was when he’d caught me trying on some of eomma’s makeup. I… I didn’t feel like I could call you after all of that. I didn’t want you to see how I’d ended up.” He says, finding it just that little bit easier to speak when he wasn’t facing you. You weren’t sure how to explain it to him.

You never cared about all of these supposed flaws that Jeongguk believed he had.

Watching as his shoulders rise and fall somewhat unevenly, you make a choice. You shuffle closer to him, your fingers grazing his shoulders and gliding down to his arms before you place a kiss on the scar that travels just below the nape of his neck. He shivers, a little startled but not shocked. He doesn’t move away.

“Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?” You whisper along the shell of his ear. You place another kiss there and then another on a scar that curves against his shoulder blade. Jeongguk clutches at his joggers, his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to hold in any unwanted noises. He knew there had always been something between you two… something more than brotherly affection, but he’d lost hope that you’d ever act upon it.

He never thought such a day would come.

You never thought he’d reciprocate your feelings.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you. My back- it’s not something anybody would want to see. It’s disgusting.” He says, and you pause, leaning forward to turn Jeongguk’s head to face you, your lips inches apart.

“You could never disappoint me. I love you.” You confess easily, without hesitation. Jeongguk is doubtful, his eyes searching yours for any signs that you were simply saying these things to make him feel better, but there was only love. Pure, unadulterated love swimming in your eyes as you looked down at him. It made him want to cry again, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

“I love you too, hyung. I’ve only ever loved you.” He says, and taking his first brave step, he turns around and leans in to place his lips against yours, instantly letting out a small mewl when you return his kiss with a fierce longing that sets your heart alight. His fingers reach down to curl around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer, and you take this as your initiative to trail your kisses along his cheek, towards his jaw, and down his throat.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll back, his head tilted just enough to allow your lips to devour his caramel skin greedily, his fingers moving to tug on the roots of your hair.

“Hyung…” He whispers, his hot breath fanning your ear and causing you to groan against his skin. You pull away, your forehead pressing to his lightly. He opens his eyes, breath heaving as he stares at you in a way you wish to wake up to every morning.

“Drink your tea. I put a lot of effort in that, y’know.” He says, smiling that incredibly adorable bunny smile that you missed as he cups both of your cheeks. You mirror his smile with one of your own and Jeongguk thinks his heart might’ve skipped multiple beats in the span of four seconds.

You continue to stare at him, completely enamoured with a full heart to see him like this, to be on better terms and to hold him in your arms and kiss him like a lover, to have him want this just as much as you.

Your father would be sent to an early grave if he were to see the two of you now. Your mother probably wouldn’t be very far behind.

“Can I stay here with you for the day?” You ask, hopeful. Jeongguk doesn’t even need time to consider, thumbing at your skin as he pecks your lips with a nod. You almost can’t believe it so you have to ask again. Jeongguk rolls his eyes but a small amused smile makes its way onto his lips.

He pushes some of your hair back, now placing a kiss on your forehead and then your nose and then both of your cheeks.

“Yes, idiot. You’re my hyung. You can stay here as long as you like.”

And you cage him under you with a smile, earning a surprised squeak from the younger before he laughs and moves to easily rip your shirt off of you.

──────────

Nobody says anything.

The room is dead silent save for the breathless pants that leave Jeongguk’s lips as he grinds into your lap, his layered denim jeans stretching to accommodate his thighs on either side of you.

Hoseok sits in his same spot to your left on a single couch, his index and thumb resting beneath his chin as he watches the way Jeongguk envelopes you like a moth to a flame, his mouth traversing your collarbones to add to the art he’d left there just last night. He was intrigued, perhaps even a little turned on, shifting in his seat to get a better view.

Both of your bodies were littered with marks of passion. It had been five days now since you and Jeongguk had reconciled back in his apartment and he hadn’t spared a moment’s hesitation to drill himself down on your cock whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Waking up to him on top of you, kissing your naked skin as he jerked you off lazily in the mornings, fucking him hard against the kitchen counter and holding him close to you as he cooked lunch in the afternoon, watching him as he writhed beneath rivulets cascading down his body within the confines of a late night steamy shower, spreading his cheeks far apart as you ate him out like dessert after dinner.

It was as if the two of you were making up for all of that time spent apart, and even now, having left the apartment for the first time together so you could introduce Jeongguk to your two friends, he wouldn’t relent. He just wanted you, you, you.

The guards scattered around the room keep their gazes fixed on anything but the two of you making out on the couch, uncomfortable at the knowledge that you were siblings—real, blood bound siblings kissing each other so raunchily, whispering dirty promises, groping exposed flesh and licking drops of perspiration trickling down a hickey-filled neck.

Some of them however, couldn’t possibly get enough. Some of them angle their necks to get a better view much like Hoseok, trying to ingrain the memory into their heads for a chance to jerk off to it later.

But then, Namjoon clears his throat expectantly and certain individuals in the room deflate as they watch the two of you pull apart whilst others sigh a silent breath of relief. A string of saliva stretches between your lips and Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle as he stares, slightly dazed as he kisses you one last time.

Your thumb swipes across his swollen lips when he pulls away, wiping any remnants of evidence that may cause a change to the plans you had initially come here for. Jeongguk takes this opportunity to capture your thumb between his lips, his tongue swirling over the pad of it and sucking gently.

He was dangerous like that, you’d come to learn. He was tempting, always knew when to strike at just the right moment. Your head tilts, watching the way he sucks on your thumb and looks up at you through his lashes with the hint of a devious smirk. You knew what he wanted his actions to look like.

You were almost caught in his trap until Namjoon spoke up, having realised the two of you hadn’t quite stopped.

“Did you invite us here for a free show or…”

And that’s when Jeongguk finally stops, pulling away from you as he glances back at Namjoon who watches him with curiosity. He proceeds to turn to you again, pecking your lips one last time, beckoning you to lean in for a deeper kiss, but Jeongguk then shifts so that he’s sitting beside you before you can make another move. You huff at his cheekiness, running your fingers through your hair as you settle back in your seat, the boner in your slacks obvious and yet ignored.

Your gaze drifts between Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s, studying them for a moment. Hoseok’s gleaming eyes are fixed upon Jeongguk who, even as an adult now, still shies away from making eye contact with strangers, instead playing with the fabric of your slacks. Namjoon is more polite, merely giving him a once over before taking a sip of his vodka.

“Guys, I want you to meet my baby brother.” You introduce, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders. You play with his hair but Jeongguk is startled at your confession, his head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes. He didn’t expect you to tell your friends you were siblings, at least not after the display the two of you had just put on.

Who knows how they would react at the information? This wasn’t some casual conversation about—your chuckle however, breaks Jeongguk out of his little panic. You place a kiss on his temple.

“Don’t worry. They know.” You tell him, a look of expectation crossing your face as you face your friends once more, a mere brow cocked. They don’t need further explanations, Hoseok’s lips parting into a hearty smile as he lifts his hand in a small wave.

“We’re not here to judge or anything. M/N’s told us all about you.” Hoseok assures. “I think it’s cute what you guys have. You obviously seem to love each other very much and who am I to get in the way of that, right? Don’t worry. You can do whatever you want. We support you.”

Namjoon finishes his glass of vodka and settles it down on the table. “I’d also like to add that I don’t think your brother would’ve spared us our lives if we were anything but supportive. He’s really protective over you. He wouldn’t have introduced you to us if he had any doubts about that. He loves you dearly.”

Your lips form a small smile at their words, hoping Jeongguk found comfort in them as you crane your neck to gauge his reaction. You notice his ears have turned a light pink shade, making you want to nibble on them but you refrain from doing so for now. You nudge him a little teasingly.

“He’s shy around strangers, aren’t you? Guk-ah, these are my friends, Namjoon,” You say, jutting your chin to the man in front of you, “And Hoseok.” You gesture to the other. Jeongguk’s doe eyes lift under his bangs, bowing slightly in greeting to them. Hoseok coos, clearly smitten.

“What a cutie.”

Dismissing the comment however, you get serious. One leg crossed over the other. Hoseok and Namjoon barely need a moment before they’re sitting up straighter. Even with you being the youngest amongst the three, they regarded you with caution and respect, always listening to your whims and assisting you with bails. There was just a commanding aura about you, like now as you pondered silently.

“I’ve told you about my parents,” You start, earning Jeongguk’s attention too as he eyes you curiously at the mention of your mother and father. Hoseok and Namjoon merely nod, allowing you to continue. “I need a favour. There’s… certain things that have come to light… that have taken place while I was enlisted. Jeongguk, baby, could you show them what you showed me?”

And both Hoseok and Namjoon’s gazes follow yours as you stare down at the younger with raised brows. His eyes widen for the second time that night, knowing immediately what you were talking about. It does ache you to see him panic like this but you cup his cheeks and press a reassuring kiss to his lips, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“It’s okay. I’m right here with you.”

He hesitates, clutching your arm as he glances at your friends who try to come off as sweet and unthreatening as possible.

“It’s okay.” You whisper once more in his ear, and Jeongguk lets out a shaky sigh, clutching your arm tighter before loosening his grip as he stands. You keep a light touch on the back of his calf as he gulps, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room before he takes his top off first and turns around.

You hear Hoseok hiss at the sight first as you reach your hand out for Jeongguk to hold. He intertwines his fingers with yours tightly, grateful. Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, a heat brimming in his eyes at the scars lining all across Jeongguk’s back. There wasn’t a single expanse of skin that was left unharmed.

“What the fuck is wrong with that man?” Namjoon growls out. The bodyguards scattered around the room themselves are in just as much shock at the sight. They’ve never seen anything like it.

“We’re not done just yet.” You seethe, nodding to Jeongguk and squeezing his hand before letting go. His eyes are brimming with tears at the memories that surface again but he does what he knows you want and starts to unbutton his jeans, dropping them to the floor where they pool around his feet.

It’s upsetting. From the evidence alone, it’s easy to visualise the pain that Jeongguk had endured at the hands of his father, the scars travelling along his ankles and up towards the innermost parts of his thighs where they disappear beneath his boxers. Even sitting down must’ve been agonising the following days. Walking, putting on a pair of trousers, bathing, all of it. It was like medieval torture brought back into modern times.

Jeongguk’s vulnerabilities aren’t something you want to overly expose to your friends—not to anyone, and so after a moment you stand up to pull Jeongguk’s denim jeans up, buttoning them for him and assisting him with putting his shirt on too. His are still brimming with tears as he looks up at you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth to stop it from quivering.

“You did so well, my love. Thank you for being so brave.” You tell him, brushing his hair back as you cup his cheeks. His fingers fist the fabric of your shirt, searching your eyes, and you understand exactly what he needs. You lean down to press your lips against his, causing him to moan quietly into your mouth, tugging you closer. You allow yourself to indulge him in this, knowing it wasn’t easy for him to let down his walls in front of complete strangers like this.

Once he’s satisfied and pulls away, you smile down at him, tapping his chin.

“I’ve gotta talk to Namjoon and Hoseok hyung here in private about something for a bit. Will you be okay in the other room? I’ll have one of the guards go with you.” You say. Jeongguk frowns, not wanting to leave your side but he knows better than to throw a tantrum right now. He nods, although the pout on his lips tells you he’s not going because he wants to.

“Don’t be long.” He tells you once you’ve picked out a suitable guard, making his way into the other room with one last glance thrown your way.

Once the door to the room is closed, your eyes narrow, turning back to your friends. You don’t sit down, your hands move to rest behind your back, and the two men think they know exactly what words are sitting at the top of your tongue before they’re even out.

“Boys, I think it’s time for a bloodbath.”

And Hoseok stands with a commending smile, making his way over to give you a hug.

“Seems we’ve got Brother of the Year here with this guy. I’m in, dude. Anything for you and your cute little Jeonggukie.”

You and Hoseok look over at Namjoon then, who also stands up, pouring himself a glass of vodka as he raises it in cheers. “Usually, I wouldn’t condone murder but this time, I’m right there with you. Let’s make the bastards burn.”

You smirk.

Oh, they’ll burn alright.

TAGLIST ───── @jungkookthevampireslayer , @unguilty

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