#but he still just doesn’t believe in himself that he can do any good in the world because of what his father did

[i-dared-myself]

You and I

Bang Chan x reader

In which Chan finds someone like him, and he believes you need his help, no matter how much you protest.

18+

Cw: Yandere Chan, murder, blood, torture, a bit of gore but not too much, smut, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome honestly, fucked up stuff, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (DO NOT DO), um… kinda nasty ngl. It’s inspired by Railway, so that should be enough warning.

Your body is broken, slowly mending- but broken nonetheless. You can feel your bones shifting as they fuse back together, and you gasp out at the pain. You have no idea how you got here, or why you’re in so much agony.

You’re on a metal table in a room with crooked IV poles and bars for windows. Sunlight streams in between the bars and it makes you wince, your pounding headache bothering you.

You slide off the table and limp to the door. It’s open by just a hair, and you push it the rest of the way. You gasp at the sight of bodies life reed on the ground, bodies slick with blood.

You shuffle over to someone, raising shaking hands to check for any signs of life. You move from person to person, but nothing. No one’s chest rises, and no one has a pulse.

What happened here?

You’re only faintly aware of a heavy weight at your shoulder blades, but ignore it. You don’t have time to examine your own injuries. 

But still, you collapse near the final body, letting out a cry of defeat. Everything hurts too much, and no one is else is alive. Something terrible occurred to them all- and to you.

Something splashes, and you glance behind you to see a man in a long, black, leather jacket that swirls around his ankles. Some of his black hair falls into his face as he tilts his head at you, mismatched eyes locking in on your face.

“You weren’t here earlier,” he muses to himself before running his tongue over pointed canines. His lips curl up into something resembling a smile, but it’s too menacing for that. “You’re like me, aren’t you?” 

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry. “I’m not.”

His shoulders shake as he laughs. It doesn’t sound humorous. It comes off as crazed.

He catches his breath, gaze flicking over you. “You have wings. You and I are alike. You have wings, and I’m… this.” His arms spread wide, revealing silver chains dangling from the inside of his coat and a set of handcuffs.

You frown, but do look. And damn, you do have wings. You flex them absently before returning your attention to the man.

“I’m Chan,” he tells you. Someone that you hadn’t checked for life stirs, and he kicks their abdomen. They groan weakly, and he crouches down next to them, holding eye contact with you as he snaps their neck.

You cover your mouth with your hands, horrified. He’s the one who murdered all these people. 

Chan’s gaze is hooded as he stands, studying you for a moment. “You and I… We’re different.”

You shudder, still staring at the person he just killed. Did they have a family? Did they deserve this?

Chan holds his hand out, smiling softly. “Ready to go?”

You take a wary step back. “Go? Go where?”

His easy expression falters before he pastes it back on. “With me. Outside of this place. To the world outside.”

Outside of the dim hallways and broken concrete. Away from the bodies crumpled across the floor, with gaping mouths and empty eyes.

“No,” you say, surprising even yourself. You bring your wings around yourself in a sort of protective shield. “I- I’m not going with you.”

Chan’s outstretched hand curls, fingers digging into the palm of his hand. His shining black shoes take another step closer to you. “Careful… I’m in a good mood.”

You sob, feathers fluttering anxiously. If this is his good mood, killing all of these people, then what is considered bad? What’s he like when he snaps?

“Don’t… Please,” you weakly say, shivering in fear when he continues to approach you. “No-“

His hand wraps around your jaw, tipping your head back. Chan pats your cheek before ripping into his wrist with his teeth, black goo oozing out. “Open wide…”

Tears stream from your eyes and you clamp your mouth shut. He doesn’t like that, and squeezes tighter. A thumb pokes at your lips and forces its way in, quickly followed by two digits.

Chan spreads your lips apart and drips the black goo into your mouth, grinning maniacally as you gasp and splutter on it. “Swallow it like a good girl. There you go.”

You have no choice but to swallow. You choke it down and slowly lower yourself to the ground, balancing on your hands and knees. The taste of it is still in your mouth, making you gag on the bitterness.

Chan’s foot lands on the space between your splayed out wings, applying a steady pressure. Your arms shake until they give out, and you fall to the ground. Chan presses harder, resting his forearm on his bent knee. 

“There you go,“ he croons. “Just give in. Relent.”

You struggle one last time, attempting to stand up. But you cannot with the strength he is using to keep you down.

You let out one last pathetic whimper before going completely limp. Chan removes his foot and crouches next to you, stroking your hair.

Then you’re unconscious, fading into a realm of darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awaken, stretching out. There’s a lingering taste in your mouth, and you scrape your tongue over your teeth in an attempt to remove it. You sigh heavily, getting rid of the remnants of sleep.

You sit up as your memories come back. Of then metal table and extreme pain. Of the lifeless bodies, blood mixing with tears.

And of Chan.

You grip the sheets of the bed you’re in, pulling them around your form. There’s a set of clothes sitting on the edge of the bed, stacked neatly atop each other. You reach for them warily.

You don’t exactly want to use whatever it is Chan has provided you with, but you despise the ripped and torn fabric you wear. So you throw it on, looking around the bedroom you’re in.

It’s scarcely furnished, with a bed covered in pillows, and a desk off to the side. There are two doors, and when you push one open, it leads to a bathroom. You wander to the second, heart pounding as you turn the handle.

There’s another hallway, and you’re overcome by a sense of deja vu. Except this hallway is covered in polished marble that gleams. You pad softly down the corridor, wings dragging behind you.

Maybe there’s something around that you could use as a weapon. Something to defend yourself from Chan with.

You enter a living room, and find it empty. No Chan.

You feel a grumble in your stomach but push your hunger aside. Escape is your top priority, and you want to get as far away from this sick bastard as possible. Ignoring the kitchen, you head straight to the only other door.

But it opens before you have the chance to touch the handle, and you’re met with the sight of a blonde man with long hair. His freckles scrunch up in alarm when he sees you, and he darts back out the door. You lunge for the door, but now it’s locked.

You hammer your fists against it. “Let me out! Please! Before- Before he comes back!”

You’re met with silence. There’s no response, and you slump against the door.

“Please,” you beg one last time. “Just… Just let me out!” When there’s still no answer, you turn and head for the kitchen, intent on locating a knife.

You hiss out a breath as your wings hit the edge of a counter, drawing them closer to yourself. It’s like your body isn’t quite aware of itself. It’s a strange feeling.

“A little birdie told me that my guest is awake,” Chan sings as he enters, slamming the door shut behind him. His eyes land on you and his shoulder shake with laughter at his own joke. “So it’s true. Felix wasn’t lying.”

You haven’t yet found a knife, so you open drawers at a furious pace. Chan simply watches you, fingers laced together behind his back. When you do pull a knife out, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and squeezes, loosening your grip.

“None of that,” Chan chides, kicking the blade away with a clatter.  “I don’t want to have to send you to your room again, so behave.”

You fight back, flapping your wings out in an attempt to throw him off. But he holds on, grasping tightly to your wrist with a patient smile. You let out a yelp as his fingers encircled around your wrist clasp harder, causing something to audibly pop.

“Oh, no,” Chan says, releasing you. He bends at the waist to take a closer look at you as you huddle on the ground, clutching your wrist. “Did you get hurt?”

You whimper and try to crawl away further, but he hooks his ankle around your calf and yanks you closer. He tsks and peers down at your wrist. 

“I can fix that,” Chan murmurs, hovering over you. He smiles, flashing his fangs. “Would you let me touch you to fix it?”

You tremble, shaking your head. “N- No! Just g- go away!” 

“No?” Chan sharply demands. His tongue rolls against the inside of his cheek, forcing out a strained laugh. “No? Did you say no to me?”

You stand and lunge around him, but he grabs you by the back of your neck, squeezing firmly. You go limp when you remember the way he so easily snapped someone’s neck. Your wings slump and your body shakes in terror.

“Oh,” Chan softly says. He slowly lowers you and presses his knee to the small of your back, applying enough pressure that you can’t get up. “Are you scared?”

You hide your face with one of your hands since you can’t move the other, bottom lip wobbling. Was he not aware that he terrified you? Did he not know how much he scared you?

“Don’t be like that,” Chan coos, reaching to the side. He pulls a roll of bandages out from somewhere and wraps it around your injured wrist, humming to himself. “Why would I hurt you? You’re like me, and not like those motherfuckers that did this to us!”

You watch as he treats your injury, sniffling. “W- Who?”

Chan cocks his head, tonguing one of his long canines. “The ones behind the experiments. The pain and the torture so they could mutilate our bodies and turn us into these. But don’t worry, darling. I killed them all. Or, almost all.”

You let out a cry as his knee digs into you further. He’s too distracted by his ramblings to even notice the pain he’s causing you, lips twisting into a sneer. You scramble to tap his thigh, signalling that it’s too much, not that you think he’d care.

“Oh, did I hurt you?” Chan picks you up from beneath the armpits, arms looped under yours. He drags you to the couch, sitting down. He places you on his lap and wraps his arms around your waist.

You’re tired. Tired of all of your memories being of blood and death and fighting. So you give in, and slump against him.

“There you go,” Chan whispers, shifting you so you’re flush against him. He trails his fingers along the feathers of your wings, and it feels wrong and right at the same time.

Wrong in the sense that it’s Chan. The murderer, who’s touching what you’re now learning is such a sensitive part of your body.

Right in the sense that it’s Chan. In some inexplicable way, this feels perfect.

A door creaks open, and a muscular man steps inside. He ducks his head out of respect, avoiding eye contact. “Sir.”

Chan scowls, baring his teeth as his grip on you tightens. “What is it, Changbin”

“We, found him.“ Changbin’s eyes flick to you, a hint of pity showing. “We left him alone for now, but we followed your instructions.”

Chan relaxes, beginning to toy with your hair. He seems to consider everything for a minute before he glances up at Changbin again. “Bring me a hairbrush.”

“Sir?” Changbin questions. As soon as Chan’s eyes narrow, the man bolts out of the room. 

“Chan,” you unsurely say. “Who are these people? Felix and Changbin?”

“They work for me,” Chan says simply. “I’m better and more evolved than them, and they know it.”

So he’s threatening them. 

Changbin returns, handing Chan a brush. He stands there for a moment before he’s dismissed, locking the door again when he leaves.

“Darling,” Chan sings, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Stay still.”

He runs the brush through your hair, his free hand cupping the back of your head in a gentle caress. It’s… nice, being cared for this way. You could almost see yourself letting this be a common occurrence.

Almost.

“Do you remember it?” Chan asks as he works. You try to think of what he’s talking about, but there’s no need for it when he continues to talk. “I do. I remember every moment of it.”

You turn your head to look at his face, but he steers your gaze away so he can brush your hair out. You fidget with your hands in your lap, listening to his voice.

“It hurt,” Chan says, voice cracking at the end. “I don’t know what they did to me, but now… Now I’m this. You’re scared of me since I’m a monster, and it’s all their fault!”

You flinch when he raises his voice, and he notices.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Chan nuzzles at the back of your neck, nose digging into your skin. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You’ve been through what I have, and now I’ll keep you safe.”

“Did they- You said you killed them all.” You stare down at the ground, mind reeling with everything. “Isn’t that enough? Isn’t your revenge complete?”

Chan huffs out a laugh, hands falling down to your waist. The hairbrush is placed off to the side as Chan just holds you. “No. It’s not enough. It won’t be enough until I find the one in charge and make him suffer like I did.”

You try so stand, but he prevents you from doing so by tugging you back down to him. You somehow aren’t alarmed by this, and settle down again. You straddle his lap, hands on his shoulders.

“There you go,” Chan praises, thumbing at your bottom lip. His fingers seem to shake before he drops his arm to his side again. “I’m not only doing this for me, but for you. You’ll be safe once he’s dead.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, oddly comforted by his words. Maybe it’s because he’s one of the only people you’ve known since you’ve woken. Maybe you’re as fucked up as he is.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Chan tells you, letting his head loll back. His eyes flutter shut and he sighs heavily. “Go to your room, darling.”

You lick your lips nervously. “No.”

He peeks an eye open in confusion. “No?”

“I- I don’t want you to kill him.” You squirm, afraid of how he might react. There’s a fairly large chance he’ll remove whatever special treatment you get. 

“Why?” Chan asks, voice dangerously low. He tries to sit up properly, but your weight on his lap keeps him down. “After what that motherfucker did to me? Did to us?”

“Chan-“

“No.” He stands, throwing you off of him. His lips are curled downwards in displeasure and he wraps his hand around your injured wrist, using it to drag you down the hallways.

You yelp at the pain, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. It hurts, but you know that’s the point. You’ve pissed him off, and there’s a possibility you won’t ever change that.

Chan tosses you into the room you woke up in, lingering in the doorway. “Sleep. I’m bringing you with me tomorrow, even if I have to tie you up and throw you over my shoulder.”

You stand and glare at him as strongly as you can, even though he doesn’t seem intimidated by you. “I don’t want this! I don’t want to see anymore death! Stop the bloodshed, Chan!”

“You’re lucky that you’ve forgotten!” Chan screams. His chest heaves with the exertion of his breakdown, and he slumps to the floor. He covers his face with his hands and his shoulders shake.

He’s… crying.

You swallow unsurely, crouching next to him. You bring your wings around him in a comforting bubble, but you don’t know why. 

“It’s okay,” you murmur before you catch yourself. You stroke his hair, and he wraps his arms around you.

“I- I remember it all,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. When you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head.

He falls asleep in your arms, exhausted from whatever had been haunting him. You gently roll him to his stomach, lying next to him with your wings splayed out over him as you drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling.” Chan’s voice breaks through your slumber, and you shift as you wake. His hand is stroking your face with a gentle touch. “It’s time to get up.”

You ache from sleeping on the floor all night, but Chan looks well-rested. His smile is soft as he gazes at you, kneeling next to you.

“What are we-“ You remember what’s in store for the day and sit up. “No! No, I won’t go!”

Chan’s expression hardens, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his features. He reaches for the handcuffs clipped to his wrist, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to do this. I thought you had finally understood why I’m doing all this.”

You scramble away, only for him to pin you. Your upper portion is bend over the bed, while his body presses against your lower half. You whimper as he secures the handcuffs to you, fighting the urge to cry.

“I’m doing this for us.” Chan runs his fingers over your feathers and you shiver at the sensation. “You’ll be safe with him gone.”

A man hovers in the corner, bottom lip a bright red from worrying it so much with his teeth. “Sir, the car is ready.”

“Leave us, Jisung.” Chan doesn’t bother to glance over as he tightens your restraints. He lets out a snarl of frustration when you fight back. “Stop that! I’m helping!”

“Chan!” you exclaim. “I need you to realize that this isn’t helping! You’re trying to keep me safe as therapy for yourself!”

Chan wrenches you to your feet. “You’ll understand. Just wait.”

You sit in the back of a car, Chan seated next to you as a driver takes you to the location of a man about to be killed. Chan’s hand rests on your thigh, more of a reassurance to himself than a move on you. You stare out the window at the rapidly changing landscape, mind racing.

Chan helps you out of the car, lifting you by the waist and setting you down carefully. You shoot a desperate look to Jisung, who turns away.

Chan’s fingers flex on the cane he’s holding, tipping his head to you. “Shall we?”

You gaze at the building with apprehension. It doesn’t seem like much, being filthy and nearly torn-down, but Changbin had assured Chan that the man was here. You are about to see the one behind Chan’s gruesome past, and the events that led to you being kidnapped by him.

Chan gives you a nudge, clicking his tongue. “Move.”

You enter first, closely followed by Chan. You can hear the ominous tapping of his cane through the pounding of your heart in your ears. You’re terrified, both for yourself and the man.

A dull thud echoes from somewhere, causing you to freeze. Chan chuckles lowly, stepping past you. “Ready, darling?”

“Please,” you beg one last time. “Don’t do this.”

Chan ignores you and presses further into the building. You reluctantly trail behind him, stomach tumbling with nerves.

A man in a lab coat spins around, gasping when he spots the pit of you. He blanches as he catches sight of Chan, horror swimming in his eyes.

“Hello,” Chan simply greets. He tilts his head, pupils dilating as he locks in on his prey. 

“You!” he gasps again, covering his mouth. “You- You weren’t supposed to get out!”

“Because you knew I would come for you?” Chan slithers closer, hands clasped behind his back. The cane dangles from his grip. “Why would you be scared? Do you have something to confess?”

“Chan,” you weakly say.

“I- I’m sorry!” The man in the lab coat sweats profusely, wringing his hands. “But it was for science! Surely- Surely you understand that?”

“Surely I understand what?” Chan arches an eyebrow. “That my suffering was interesting to you?”

The man lowers himself to his knees. “Please… But look at yourself! It’s- It’s magnificent!”

Chan falters, forehead creasing. “Magnificent? You- I cried myself to sleep every night that I was strapped to that table! You personally stood over me and laughed!”

You no longer feel pity for this man. Every ounce of sympathy in your heart for him has dried up, replaced for the same longing for vengeance that Chan craves.

“But- But-“ The man looks to you, scrambling closer on his knees. “You! You were always so perfect! You were the perfect specimen! So sweet and lovely!”

Chan kicks the man away from you, disgust etched into his features. “Get the fuck away from her. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her, you vile creature.”

The man sobs, clutching at his hair. He tugs at the strands, taking another attempt at getting closer to you. “Please! Don’t let him do this!” He grabs at you, fingers snagging at your shirt.

You flinch away from him, wings twitching. That seems to do it for Chan, causing him to snap.

Chan swings the cane, hitting the man in the chest. He bends over, blood spurting out of his mouth when he coughs. 

Chan smiles and laughs as he repeatedly beats the man, and you watch. You watch as he’s brought closer and closer to the brink of death, and until his teeth are stained red with blood. His breaths are ragged and his face is streaked with tears.

“That is nowhere near the fraction of the suffering I have gone through,” Chan hisses out. He pinches the man’s chin between his fingers, glowering at him in pure fury. “But I will end you now.”

“Chan,” you softly say, drawing his attention to you. “Chan, my love.”

Chan immediately drops the man, and he goes limp on the ground. He rushes to you, eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and hope. “Yes, darling?”

“Can I do it?” you rasp. You can’t tear your eyes from the man, his once perfectly clean lab coat now splattered with red. “I know you’ve waited for this moment, but-“

“Of course.” Chan pulls a knife out from somewhere, flipping the handle to you. He removes your handcuffs as well. “You’ve suffered as much as I, my darling.”

You kneel next to the man, whose pained expression contorts into one of desperation.  But that quickly changes when you sink the blade into him, over and over again.

You feel the warm wetness on your face and your hands, and you feel the weight of Chan’s gaze on you. You are the one to take this man’s pathetic life, and you are the one to drop the knife to a clatter.

But Chan is the one to initiate the kiss, clasping your face with his hands. It’s full of longing and built up desire. 

You return it with as much enthusiasm, opening your mouth for his tongue. His fangs knick your lip, but you’re covered in so much blood anyways.

“Here?” Chan pants out, groping at any inch of you that he can touch. “Do you want me to fuck you right here?”

You whine and bare your throat for him, eyes fluttering as he kisses up your neck. “I- No.”

“No?” Chan pulls away, tongue wetting his lips. “Darling-“

“Not here.” You yank him back to you. “I- I want a bed, because we’re doing this a bunch tonight.”

He moans at the prospect, kneading at your hips. “Can I- Can I bite you? Make you mine?”

“Sure,” you breathlessly agree. “Make me yours.”

You shriek as his fangs plunge into your neck, right where he had been kissing earlier. It’s a burning hot pain, but it slowly transforms into molten pleasure.

“You like that?” Chan licks a stripe over the wound, closing it up somehow. When you moan as an answer, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you out to the waiting car.

“Sir?” Jisung tenses in alarm.

“Drive,” Chan orders, laying you out across the backseats. You’re dripping now, and he can’t wait to ruin you. 

Jisung wordlessly obeys, and you’re back home before you know it. Chan dumps you onto your bed, wandering to the attached bathroom while you writhe, fuelled by an aching need.

“I know,” Chan soothes as he returns, bringing you with him to the bathroom, where the tub is filling with steaming water. “The bite is making you needy, isn’t it?”

“Y- Yeah.” You nod as he strips you of your clothes, quickly following suit. You both climb into the bathtub together and rinse away the blood and the grime. 

You keep attempting to slide onto Chan’s dick, but he stops you each and every time. He merely kisses you again, assuring you that it’s coming. You’re growing frustrated and as soon as he steps out of the bathtub, you launch yourself at him.

You straddle his chest, bending down to kiss him. You’re both slick with water and droplets of it roll down Chan’s abs as he stands, pushing you off.

“Darling,” Chan taunts, gaze hooded. “Careful, or I’ll have to restrain you again.”

You ignore the warning and shove him again. Chan lets himself fall onto the bed, arms spread out. You’re instantly atop him again, using your wings as balance so he can’t throw you off again.

“Gonna fuck me?” Chan croons. He flicks one of your nipples before circling it with his thumb. “Well, get to it already.”

“I’m trying!” you hiss, grabbing his hard and leaking cock. His head is thrown back when you drag your hands up it. 

You marvel in how much control you have over him in this moment. You had been so afraid of him and what he could do, but now here you are. You’re touching one of his most intimate places, about to have him fuck you.

You get distracted by your thoughts, which allows him to flip you. You fight in protest as the handcuffs return to your wrists, but he smirks down at you.

Chan rubs two fingers through your folds, pupils dilating again at what he finds. “Oh, you’re soaked.” 

You try to grind down on his hand, but he removes it. You struggle in the handcuffs, glaring down at the metal.

“Aw, poor thing.” Chan tilts your chin up with his fingers, shuffling on his knees to straddle you. “Do you need it? Do you need my thick cock to fill you?”

“Need it!” You nod eagerly, scrambling to grab his arm. It’s a tricky maneuver with your hands bound, but you make it work. “Please, Chan!”

Chan stares down at you, seemingly considering something. “You want to be mine? Forever?”

“Forever!” You wrap your legs around him and tug him closer. You want him as close as it gets, so much so that you can’t explain the need that has overcome you.

Chan’s fangs appear to lengthen as he moves them to his forearm. More of the black goo bubbles up and he tips it back into his mouth. You know what he wants and part your lips, sticking your tongue out.

He cups your face with two hands, drooling it out into your waiting mouth. This time you don’t gag, effortlessly swallowing it down.

“Good,” Chan says, lips still stained black. He sticks three fingers past your lips suddenly, making you choke. He checks that you’ve truly swallowed it all, smiling at you. “Ready for it?”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at his cock, and know it will stretch you out. But the bite he had given you has gotten rid of the need for prep. You’re wetter than he could have imagined, and you can feel your pussy throbbing.

Chan likes himself with your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your back arches at the sensation of him filling you, and he kisses you again. It’s messy and sloppy because you’re both panting, but you want more.

“There you go,” Chan softly says as he begins to rock into you. He turns you onto your stomach, with your hands behind your back. “Finally mine. All that fighting for nothing, huh? Don’t you feel stupid now?”

He thrusts into you harshly, and your entire body shifts with the movement. You moan and try once again to get out of the handcuffs.

“Enough,” Chan scolds, smacking your ass. You yelp, and he rubs the pain away by smoothing his hands over where he had just hit.

“Chan!” Your eyes roll back at a particularly well-aimed thrust. “Please! Please, please, please!”

“Please what?” Chan taunts. He presses your clit firmly and you squirm away from the pleasure. But he uses his other hand to grip the handcuffs and pull you back to him. “I’m already giving you my dick, you needy thing. Are you asking me to fill you further? To fill you with my cum until it’s dripping out of you, and then fuck it back in?”

You drool onto the sheets, aching and burning and full. You swear that he’s rearranging your guts for his own pleasure. You never want it to stop.

Then you’re clenching down around him with an orgasm, cunt spasming and body trembling. He works you through it by grinding into you, toying with your clit.

“Gonna give it to you,” Chan gasps out, mouth parting as he cums inside you. It’s your turn to help him through it, and you push back against him, rolling your hips.

“We’re the same,” Chan whispers as he slips out of you. He pulls you flush to his chest, arms around your torso. “You’re mine and I’m yours. You and I will be safe, now.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @mbioooo0000

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch15

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to their connection… do they find a way to fix it?

warnings: profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity,

chap contents: its fluffy at the start, jk tries to tell oc but it doesnt work out, ur so oblivious, kissies nd hugs, dinner w the parents (whoopsie) oc finds out FINALLY in the WORST way possible.

wc: not that long

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610

a/n: the chapter weve all been dreading is here </3, but anyways, how do u guys think it went? was it unexpected?? the next chapter will be way more angsty but i had to leave it onn a cliffhanger LOL. IM EXCITED TO PROGRESS BROOO IMMA START WRITING CH16LIKE RN. as always Ty for reading my loveliesssss

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The first thing Jungkook registers is warmth. Your warmth. The way you’re curled into him, breathing soft and steady, completely unaware of the weight pressing down on his chest.

He should get up.

That’s what he always does—slips out of bed before you wake, padding quietly to the kitchen to make breakfast. He loves seeing your half-asleep, delighted expression when you find food waiting for you. Loves the way you blink at him in surprise, like you still can’t believe he’s there.

But today… he doesn’t want to. Today, he wants to pretend. Just for a little while.

Before he inevitably has to wipe that smile off your face and tell you.

Before it’s the last time doing this with you.

Jungkook watches you, the way your lashes flutter against your cheek, how your lips part slightly with each exhale. His throat tightens at the thought that in three weeks, he won’t be here. He won’t wake up to this. Won’t wake up to you.

He nearly cries.

His head is propped against the pillow, warm, heavy eyes tracing over you as you breathe steadily beside him. The sheets have fallen just enough, exposing your bare legs, the curve of your thigh, the way your sweatshirt dwarfs you.

He swallows. Looks away.

God, he’s down bad.

But mostly, he’s endeared.

Because you’re so comfortable around him now. Now, you curl into him instinctively. Now, you leave your things in his bathroom without thinking.

Now, you make him feel like this is real.

Like you’re his.

He could stay like this all morning.

But then, you stir.

And before he can even think about it, he’s leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You groan.

Eyes still shut, you scrunch your nose. “Gross.”

Jungkook just grins.

“You love it.”

Your eyes flutter open, squinting up at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re beautiful.”

You blink.

Then, your face heats, and you roll over, reaching for your phone.

Jungkook scoffs. “Wow. Ignored.”

You mumble something incoherent, already scrolling through your notifications.

And that’s when he realizes—this is the moment.

He should say it. Now.

Before breakfast, before the day starts, before he has a single chance to chicken out again.

So he clears his throat.

“I have something to—”

Ping.

You cut him off immediately.

“Oh my god, Nari texted me.”

Jungkook’s jaw clicks shut.

You sit up, eyes glued to your phone, grinning at the screen. “She woke up and immediately sent me, and I quote—‘Bitch, I had a dream that I got lost in Jungkook’s apartment. It was just endless hallways, and I couldn’t escape.’”

You snort, amused. Jungkook exhales, not amused.

But he doesn’t try again.

Not yet.

And then you move, shifting closer,nuzzling into his shoulder with a sleepy hum.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

You don’t notice how stiff he’s gone, don’t notice the way he bites the inside of his cheek just to keep it together. He’s never been good at this—holding back. He’s always been all in, always felt things too deeply. And right now, he feels like he’s breaking.

“I have something to tell you,” he murmurs. His voice is hoarse, unfamiliar even to himself.

You don’t hear the weight behind his words.

Your stomach rumbles and you giggle.

And just like that, the moment is gone.

Jungkook exhales, staring at the ceiling again, willing the burning in his eyes to disappear. You don’t notice. You’re too busy reading whatever nonsense Nari sent you, letting out a quiet laugh before typing back.

So he doesn’t say it.

Instead, he just watches you. Watches the way you stretch, the hem of your hoodie riding up your thighs as you move. Watches the way you rub at your eyes, still too sleepy to be fully coherent.

And when you start to sit up, he acts on impulse.

A firm arm wraps around your waist, tugging you back into him. You let out a small yelp, but he just buries his face in your neck, exhaling deeply.

“Mmm, stay longer,” he mutters, voice still thick with sleep.

You hesitate for only a second before melting into him, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re so clingy,” you tease, but your arms loop around him anyway.

“Yeah,” he admits easily. “I am.”

You don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You stay like that for what feels like forever, tangled together in a mess of sheets and sleepy warmth, neither of you in a rush to move.

Eventually, though, reality calls.

You get up first, dragging him to the bathroom where you both brush your teeth side by side. He watches in the mirror as you grumble about your bedhead, fighting with your hair while he stands there, letting the mundane normalcy of the moment soak into his bones.

It’s so unfair.

The two of you make your way to the kitchen next, where you start pulling out ingredients while Jungkook leans against the counter, watching.

“You gonna help, or just stand there looking pretty?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook grins, pushing off the counter. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groan, smacking his arm with a spatula.

He laughs, dodging your half-hearted attack before reaching for the eggs. You cook together, bickering playfully the whole time—him attempting to take over, you pushing him aside with a dramatic sigh of exasperation.

Jungkook had planned to say it during breakfast.

It was perfect—just the two of you, sleepy and slow, in his kitchen.

He imagined it before you woke up: Standing beside you, cooking together, stealing little kisses, pretending you’re dating for real.

But he can’t get a damn word in.

Because today, of all days, you are so chatty.

Like, more than usual.

“Did you see that video I sent you the other night?” you ask, flipping through your phone as you sit on the counter, giving up helping him, legs swinging. “The one of that guy falling off the treadmill? It made me think of you.”

Jungkook—who currently has taken over with the breakfast, thank you very much—pauses.

“Excuse me?”

You smirk. “I feel like you would fall off a treadmill.”

Jungkook scoffs, placing eggs on a plate. “I am literally one of the most physically fit people you know.”

You tilt your head. “And?”

“…And I don’t fall off treadmills.”

“Not yet.”

He glares. You grin.

But again—he hesitates.

He should just say it.

He opens his mouth—

“Oh, wait, also—” You cut in again, oblivious to his crisis.

And just like that, he misses his chance.

Again.

Because you don’t stop.

You ramble about your weird customers at work, about how Nari got hit on by a drunk guy at the diner, about how you’re craving something sweet, maybe pancakes, but not the diner’s pancakes, because they taste like sadness.

And Jungkook just—listens.

Because he can’t help it.

Because he loves listening to you talk.

Even when it’s keeping him from saying what he needs to say.

Even when he’s running out of time.

Jungkook gives up.

For now.

You’re too happy, too talkative, and every time he tries to squeeze in a serious conversation, you effortlessly derail it with another story, another joke, another distraction.

And honestly?

He doesn’t even mind.

——

The food turns out better than expected. You both sit down at the table, and for a moment, it’s perfect.

Too perfect.

He needs to say it.

He needs to tell you.

“Hey…” Jungkook starts, but you’re already cutting him off, rambling about something completely unrelated. He tries again, but every time, you interrupt yourself with another tangent.

He doesn’t mind.

Loves the way you talk, loves the way your thoughts jump from one thing to the next without warning. He lets you go on, a soft smile playing on his lips, even as his chest feels heavier with every passing second.

“That was good, huh?” he says, nodding toward the empty plates.

You hum, licking sauce off your thumb. “I give it a solid 8.5 out of 10.”

Jungkook gapes.

“Excuse me?”

You shrug, smug. “Points deducted for lack of pancakes.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You said diner pancakes taste like sadness!”

“Not homemade pancakes.”

He narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head as he stands up to collect the dishes. “Ungrateful.”

You just grin, watching as he rinses the plates before stacking them in the sink.

“Oh, my parents are coming to visit tonight.”

Jungkook blinks. “Wait, what?”

You glance up at him, sipping your juice. “Yeah. They’re in town for the weekend, so I’m gonna have dinner with them tonight.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “So you’re going home?”

“Yeah.” You shoot him a look. “Why? You sad about it?”

He doesn’t answer fast enough.

“Oh my god, you’re so clingy,” you tease, kicking his foot.

Jungkook exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I am.” He rolls his eyes, walking past you—until you reach out and grab his wrist.

“Then come.”

Jungkook freezes.

His head turns so fast you almost laugh. “What?”

“Come meet them,” you say simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My mom would love you.”

Jungkook stares.

He expected you to laugh it off. To tease him for even suggesting it.

But instead— Instead, you’re serious.

You actually want him to come.

And suddenly, the weight of his secret comes crashing down on him all over again.

He shouldn’t do this.

He shouldn’t pretend like this is normal. He shouldn’t accept this invitation, knowing full well he’s about to destroy everything you think this is.

But—

The way you’re looking at him right now—

Soft. Open. Like you trust him.

And fuck, he doesn’t want to let you down.

So he forces a grin, nudging your knee with his.

“Is this it?” he teases. “The meet-the-parents moment? Should I bring flowers? Shake your dad’s hand like a man?”

You laugh.

But he’s not laughing.

Because meeting your parents means something.

It means you see him in your life for real.

And he—he won’t even be here in three weeks.

But instead of saying that, instead of being honest, he just smiles, leans closer, and murmurs, “Your mom’s gonna love me.”

You grin. “That’s what I said.”

And just like that—he’s agreed to come.

Even though he shouldn’t.

Even though he knows this is going to make everything so much worse.

But for now, he lets himself have this.

Because if this is all he gets before everything falls apart—

He wants to make it count.

——

You get dressed in what you came in—your hoodie and sweatpants, both slightly wrinkled from sleep. Jungkook watches from his place on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes hooded as you gather your things.

“You’re just gonna leave like that?” he asks, voice still thick from the morning.

You shoot him a look. “What’s wrong with this?”

He shrugs. “Nothing, just… thought you’d wanna freshen up before you go.”

You narrow your eyes. “You just want me to shower here.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just tilts his head, smirking.

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bathroom, sharing a toothbrush holder with him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

The shower is familiar—you blush from the memories of it last night. You bicker over water temperature, flick suds at each other when you think he’s not looking. He kisses your wet shoulder at one point, and you shove him away, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

After, when you’re brushing your teeth again, you leave your toothbrush in its usual place next to his. He doesn’t say anything about it, but he stares for a beat too long, something unreadable in his gaze before he looks away.

And then comes the usual argument.

“I’ll take the bus,” you insist, slipping on your sneakers.

Jungkook snorts. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, you won’t.” He’s already grabbing his keys, like he knows he’s won this fight before it’s even started.

You groan. “Jungkook, you don’t have to drive me—”

“I want to drive you,” he says simply, holding the door open for you. “Get in the car, baby.”

You grumble under your breath, but ultimately, you do.

The drive home is quiet, comfortable. His hand rests on your thigh absentmindedly, thumb brushing over your legs. You watch the city pass by through the window, messaging Nari a quick otw home, mom n dad r coming later text before tucking your phone away.

When you pull up to your apartment, he turns to you. “Text me what time I should come later.”

“I will.”

Jungkook leans in, kissing you slow, like he’s savoring it. You don’t question it, just press into him, fingers curling around the collar of his hoodie.

You pull away first. “See you later?”

He nods, lips still slightly parted. “Yeah.”

And then you’re out of the car, climbing the stairs to your apartment.

——

You expect Nari to be dead asleep when you walk in.

She’s been knocked out for the past two days, after all, barely responding to texts, dead in your bed from your hell sent night shift, only waking up for food and bathroom breaks.

But instead, you step into the apartment and—

“YOU’RE BACK!”

You startle, nearly dropping your bag.

Nari is sprawled out on the couch, bright-eyed and looking suspiciously well-rested.

You blink. “Weren’t you, like…dead?”

“I wasn’t dead, I was recovering,” she corrects, stretching like a cat. “I had a very intense weekend, okay? I deserved to sleep like I was in a coma.”

You roll your eyes, kicking off your shoes. “Sure. So, what? You just woke up?”

“Mmm…” She pretends to think. “Like, an hour ago.”

You squint at her. “So you were only asleep for, like, half of the past two days?”

“Correct.”

“And what did you do for the other half?”

“Laid here. Watched TikToks. Waited for you to come back and tell me everything.”

You snort, flopping onto the couch beside her.

She immediately grins, wiggling her eyebrows. “Sooo… How was it?”

You raise a brow. “What? Breakfast? My drive home? Be specific.”

“Bitch.” She glares. “You know exactly what I mean.”

You laugh, leaning back. “It was… good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. Good.”

She narrows her eyes.

Then—her expression shifts, turns cheeky.

“Did you guys have another round this morning?”

Your jaw drops. “NARI—”

“WHAT?” She cackles. “It’s a valid question! I mean, he sounded like he was gonna eat you alive over text last night!”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god.”

She nudges your leg. “So? Did you?”

“NO.”

She squints. “Damn. Missed opportunity.”

You throw a pillow at her.

She wheezes.

“Bitch, we need to clean.”

You blink. “Not tired anymore?”

“Yeah, but I’m wide awake now,” she says, already yanking a pile of laundry off the couch. “I miss your mom. I can’t wait to see her. This place is a disaster.”

“Who said you were staying?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Me,” Nari says, completely serious.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight her on it. Instead, you both spend the next couple of hours speed-cleaning, stuffing random things into closets, wiping down every surface. The place looks clean, even if it’s mostly an illusion.

Then comes the cooking.

You find a recipe for roasted chicken, following a tutorial step-by-step. It seems easy enough—until the kitchen fills with smoke, and the chicken looks questionable at best.

“It said 400 degrees for 20 minutes, how is it still raw?!”

“Did we even preheat it?”

“Oh my God, Nari.”

You and Nari are standing in the kitchen, staring at the baking sheet in horror. The chicken you so proudly marinated is still looking suspiciously pale.

Your kitchen looks like a warzone. Flour on the counter. Herbs spilled. Something is burning, but neither of you know what.

Somewhere along the way, the sauce burns, the seasoning is questionable at best, and the chicken looks vaguely threatening.

At one point, you both step back and stare at it.

Then, at the same time—

“Yeah, we can’t serve that.”

You groan, wiping your hands on a towel. “I need to run to the store.”

“Want me to come?”

“Nah, stay here. Keep an eye on things.”

Nari salutes. “Aye aye, captain.”

And with that, you grab your jacket and head out.

——

You smooth down your sweater, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

When you return, bags in hand, you expect to just see Nari lounging around.

But instead—

Jungkook is there.

Already inside, casually chatting with Nari like he owns the place.

The second he sees you, he grins.

You roll your eyes. “You’re early.”

“You sound upset.” He steps forward, taking the bags from your hands like it’s second nature.

“Because I am.”

He laughs, setting the bags down before tugging you in for a quick kiss.

It’s warm, familiar, and despite your fake complaining, you let yourself melt into it.

Nari watches, arms crossed. “Ugh. You guys are gross.”

Jungkook pulls away just enough to smirk. “Jealous?”

“Of you? No. Of Y/N? Absolutely.”

Jungkook snorts, and you just shake your head, smiling.

For a moment, it’s perfect.

For a moment, you think tonight will be fine.

And then you freeze.

“…Did you cut your hair?”

Jungkook stands there, hands in his pockets, hair shorter than before. It’s not buzzed, but the longer strands are gone, leaving it neater, more structured.

He runs a hand through it. “Yeah. I… have a shoot coming up.”

You tilt your head, inspecting him. “You look good, but… I kinda liked the mullet.”

He snorts. “Did you?”

You nod. “It was hot.”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles, but there’s something off about it. Like he’s holding something back.

Because he is.

Because he knows this isn’t for a shoot.

Because in a few weeks, it’s all coming off.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he just lets you pull him towards you, lets you run your fingers through his hair, lets himself enjoy this moment.

Even if he knows it’s borrowed time.

——

The three of you are sprawled out in the living room, waiting.

Jungkook is beside you on the couch, lazily letting you run your fingers through his freshly cut hair while he scrolls through his phone. Nari, on the other hand, is laser-focused on the chicken.

You don’t miss the way she keeps side-eyeing it like it might disappear if she blinks too long.

“Nari, stop eyeing the chicken,” you deadpan, flicking her arm.

She groans dramatically. “But I’m starving—just one bite?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

She makes a whining sound, but you stand firm. Meanwhile, Jungkook is just watching the whole interaction, shaking with laughter, like this is peak entertainment.

“You two are unreal,” he mutters, grinning.

And then there’s a knock at the door.

You immediately straighten up, running your hands over your sweater as if there’s invisible dust to wipe off. Nari lets out an excited gasp.

“Oh my god, yes,” she whispers, giddy.

Jungkook, however, noticeably stiffens. His fingers twitch against his thigh, and when you glance at him, you catch the way his jaw flexes.

You reach for his hand, squeezing lightly. “You’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “I promise she’ll love you. They’ll both love you. But… just a warning, they’re very energetic.”

“Very energetic,” Nari adds. “Now hurry up and open the door before they break it down.”

You roll your eyes but step forward, unlocking it.

Your parents arrived late, obviously.

And they do so with energy.

Your mom practically bursts into the apartment, already talking.

“Y/N! Oh my god, we hit so much traffic—your father missed the exit—oh, honey, come here, let me see you.”

You barely get a word in before she’s already hugging you, pulling back to hold your face between her hands.

“Hi, Mom,” you laugh, hugging her back.

She pulls away to cup your face, eyes scanning you like she’s checking for signs of distress. “How are you? You look so pretty! Have you been eating well? Are you sleeping enough?”

Behind her, your dad is eyeing the situation with a small smirk. “Yeah, hi to you too,” he says, voice dry but amused.

“Hi, Dad.”

You barely get the words out before your mom moves on, immediately turning her attention to Nari with an excited gasp.

“Oh my god, Nari! Look at you, gorgeous as ever—come here, let me see you!”

And just like that, you’re shoved aside.

Nari giggles, soaking up the attention like a sponge, while you turn to your dad. He gives you a knowing look before pulling you into a quick hug.

“Surviving?” he asks.

“Barely,” you deadpan.

He huffs out a chuckle. But before either of you can say more, your mom’s voice cuts through the room like a siren.

“Oh, my daughter in law! You look so good! Have you been eating? You’re glowing!”

“Mom.”

“Oh, hush. If I had a son, I’d marry him off to Nari immediately.”

Nari grins, dramatically flipping her hair. “You hear that, Y/N? Your mom has taste.”

Then—your mom turns and sees Jungkook.

And oh. Oh, Lord.

Her hands fly to her chest.

“Oh my goodness.”

Jungkook blinks, startled.

Your dad lets out an approving hum, arms crossed, nodding slowly, as if analyzing Jungkook’s existence.

“So this is him, huh? The singer boy?”

Jungkook laughs nervously. “Uh—yeah. Hi.”

Your mom immediately grabs his hands, beaming.

“You are so handsome! Look at you! Wow, Sweetie, you didn’t tell me he was this gorgeous in person!”

Jungkook’s ears turn red.

Nari, watching from behind, cackles. “Oh my God.”

Your mom ignores her.

“Oh, sweetie, you must be tired. Are you eating well? Do you need anything? Can I get you something?”

Your dad claps him on the back. “Strong handshake. I respect that.”

Jungkook is getting smothered.

You just stand there, watching, amused, arms crossed, letting him suffer.

Then, finally, your mom turns back to you.

“Alright, let’s eat! I’m starving. And I brought real food, don’t worry.”

You don’t question how she knows youd fuck up the food.

Nari snorts. “Yeah, thank God.”

And just like that, your parents have fully claimed Jungkook as their own.

Nari and your mom settle at the table, chatting away like old friends, while your dad stays standing, arms crossed as he eyes the chicken suspiciously.

Meanwhile, you’re in the kitchen with your mom, helping her unpack the food she thankfully brought.

“Sweetheart,” she suddenly sniffs, “it smells like smoke in here.”

You freeze for half a second before continuing to open containers. “Huh?”

She gives you a look. “Did you burn something?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah. Yeah, Mom.”

She sighs, clearly so used to this. “Good thing I brought food, then.”

You nod, relieved.

As you both carry the dishes to the table, Jungkook instinctively gets up to help. But the second he moves, your mom waves him off.

“Oh no, no, no, sit down, sit down, relax.”

Jungkook hesitates. “Uh… no, I’ll help.”

“Really, I—”

“I insist,” he says, already reaching for a dish.

Your mom pauses, then huffs out a chuckle. “Oh, alright then. What a gentleman.”

Meanwhile, Nari—who has been waiting for this moment—immediately lunges for the chicken.

She does not hesitate.

It’s like she hasn’t eaten in weeks—just shoveling food onto her plate like a woman possessed.

“Jesus, Nari,” you mutter, watching in horror. “Pace yourself.”

She barely acknowledges you, already halfway through her first bite. “I told you I was starving.”

Jungkook chuckles, finally seeming to relax as he takes a bite of his own food. There’s still a bit of nervous energy in his shoulders, but it’s nowhere near as tense as before.

As the dinner settles into an easy flow, your mom and Nari fall into conversation, as they always do.

“Nari, what happened to that boy you were talking to?” your mom asks mid-bite. “Do you have a boyfriend yet?”

Nari immediately launches into a dramatic rant about Men and Their Many Flaws, and your mom nods along, engaged as ever. They have a weirdly close bond—it’s been that way for years.

Meanwhile, your dad turns to Jungkook.

“So,” he says, eyes flicking to Jungkook’s arm. “Did your tattoos hurt?”

Jungkook blinks, glancing down at the ink covering his skin. Then he shrugs, casual. “A little.”

Your dad hums, contemplating. “I wanna get one.”

Jungkook perks up. “Oh yeah? What are you thinking of getting?”

Before your dad can answer, you cut in.

“Dad, you’d cry the second the needle touched your skin.”

Your dad scoffs, affronted. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“I literally saw you tear up when you stubbed your toe last time we had dinner.”

“That was different!”

Jungkook is trying so hard not to laugh.

“I’m big and tough, just like Jungkook,” your dad insists, puffing out his chest.

“Sure,” you deadpan.

Your mom, barely paying attention, waves a hand. “Anyway—”

And then, suddenly, all eyes are on Jungkook.

“So,” your mom says, tilting her head, “how did you two meet?”

Jungkook blinks, clearly not expecting to be put on the spot. But after a moment, he smiles. “At the diner.”

“Oh my god,” Nari suddenly cuts in, turning to your mom. “Did you know Y/N didn’t even realize who he was at first?”

Your mom, still eating, barely reacts. “Oh, I’m not surprised,” she says, waving her fork. “She was never really into that kind of stuff.”

Jungkook laughs, glancing at you.

Your mom, however, suddenly gasps.

“Oh, Jungkook—you should meet her cousin. She is obsessed with you.”

You groan. “Who?”

“No, really! Albums, posters—your face is everywhere in her room!”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in amusement. “Oh yeah?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. She’s obsessed.”

Jungkook grins. “Next time, bring something and I’ll sign it for her.”

Your mom gasps. “Oh my god honey, she would die.”

Your dad, who has been quietly observing this whole thing, suddenly leans back with a smirk. “Alright, son,” he says, “I like you.”

And just like that—Jungkook is in.

Before you even realize it, half the chicken is gone.

You glance over at Nari��and yeah.

It was her.

Your parents immediately notice.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mom coos, pushing her plate toward Nari. “You must still be so hungry. Here, have some of mine.”

Your dad follows suit, sliding his dish over. “Yeah, come on. Eat up.”

Nari stares at them in horror.

Because, in reality, she is stuffed. Absolutely miserable. But she’s also too deep in the bit to stop now.

So she swallows thickly, nods, and—forces another bite.

You watch in pure amusement as she struggles, her expression slightly green, but still determined.

Jungkook notices too, chuckling quietly.

Then—your mom leans in, casual as ever, and asks:

“So, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looks up. “Yes?”

She smirks. “Are you in love with my daughter?”

You nearly choke.

Jungkook freezes, caught so off guard that he blinks—mouth slightly open.

Your dad, on the other hand, grins, immediately jumping in to tease.

“I don’t know how you could be,” he says, shaking his head dramatically. “She burned the chicken.”

You gasp. “How did you know?”

Nari, still trying not to die from fullness, weakly raises a hand. “It’s… pretty obvious,” she mutters.

Your dad cackles.

Jungkook, still flustered from the question, simply shakes his head with a small laugh, covering his mouth.

The conversation continues on—shifting topics, flowing naturally, Jungkook settling even more into the comfortable chaos of your family.

Then, out of nowhere, your mom casually says—

“Honey, did you know your cousin finished his enlistment last week?”

You blink. “Who?”

“Your cousin. He just got discharged.”

“Oh.” You nod, remembering. “Yeah, Mom. I miss him. We should visit sometime.”

Your dad hums. “We definitely will. He’s not busy anymore.”

Jungkook listens quietly, still chewing—but then—

Your mom turns to him.

And she asks—so casual, so normal—

“Jungkook, honey. When will you be enlisting?”

[sthilarions]

Mmmm

So, personal context. My brother and I both dislike-to-hate kissing; he’s demi, I’m ace, both of us fall in the camp of ‘kissing counts as sex stuff, it’s the insertion of a slimy body part into an orifice (or at minimum orifice-to-orifice contact) for the purpose of a type of pleasure that we don’t seem to experience, and we’re not fans, it’s at best weird and uncomfortable and at most actively repulsive and even panic-inducing’. I’m in my early 30s and he’s in his late 20s. And we’ve had conversations about this before: how disliking kissing does not allow you to avoid it.

I didn’t engage in anything I would “count” as kissing until my 20s, and I can still count the number of times I have officially been kissed on one hand. He has not been as successful at avoiding it, largely because the social pressures for a cis man are different (and also I have the benefit of also being arospec).

I would say it is all but physically impossible for Edwin to have genuinely 100% never been kissed in any sense because of the first few things I mentioned above. Half of Europe greets with cheek kisses (and multiple modern cultures greet with lip kisses, and past European cultures greeted with lip kisses).

Also, he’s been effectively living the life not only of an adult but an adult continuously involved in plot nonsense. The tension is because he’s living like an adult but still internally a teenager in some ways.

Do I think he was lying to Niko and Monty? No. I do not think he had ever experienced something he considered to be a kiss.

All of which means he drew the line somewhere. The question is just where.

It is very possible that the most he’s experienced is cheek kisses - conceivably, if he’s very good at dodging, even just air cheek kisses. And that’s where he drew the line. (As most modern/semi-modern Westerners would.) I suspect that’s what the writers meant to indicate, and thematically it does make sense.

(I think it still works thematically so long as he doesn’t consider himself to have been kissed, regardless of physical activities, though. And, uh, I don’t want to get into messy territory here but if we believe people to have been like. Sullied. Made unpure and have lost childhood innocence. Based on non-consensual activities and/or activities that they themselves do not identify as ‘counting’, that puts us in dangerous ground.)

Given what we know of his afterlife, and the sort of nonsense that decades of detectiving involves in a setting like the supernatural side of DC, cheek-kisses-only seems unlikely to me based on logical extrapolation. But it’s absolutely up for interpretation.

…so anyway my personal views on this are definitely colored by the fact that ALL kissing makes my skin crawl not just the scenarios above, but, like, yeah. I’m not trying to dictate how you read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I keep thinking about Edwin claiming he’s never been kissed, because, like… really? He’s been running around getting into hijinks and shenanigans for effectively 70 years (given that he doesn’t take breaks to sleep, eat, pee, etc) and he’s never encountered a ghost from a culture that greets with a lip-kiss? Or one old enough to still do the ‘holy kiss’? Never met someone unacceptably pushy that Charles couldn’t shove off in time? Never encountered magic mistletoe? Never been next to somebody with eyes on New Year’s Eve? Really?

And my conclusion is that logically he must mean he’s never experienced something that he counts as a kiss.

Which then leads me into the wonderful world of what may have happened between him and Charles that he didn’t count as kissing.

They’ve been doing disguises together as different genders for decades and you’re telling me they never told someone they were married and had to prove it with a kiss? I don’t think so.

On New Year’s, and under that magic mistletoe - who else would be next to him but Charles?

Please consider the first time that Charles was doing a bit and told Edwin “bye honey, have fun at work, I’ll have dinner ready when you get home” and got a little too caught up in it and didn’t realize he’d pecked Edwin on the lips until several minutes later. And by god neither of them is ever going to mention it.

…but then a similar situation happened again, several years later, Edwin laid up ghost-sick on the sofa and Charles forced to leave to deal with the case and bending over Edwin to fuss at his blankets and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before standing and promising he’d be back as soon as - wait, back up, he pressed a quick… what… to… who… SHIT.

But the thing is over time they gradually realize that the other genuinely does not care. Like, they’re not going to get homophobic or weird about it. Sometimes you just lip-kiss your bro, you know. It happens. And the fact that they now know it’s not going to cause issues means it happens increasingly frequently, and they progressively lose track of the idea that it might be unusual. Because it doesn’t count as kissing, right?

And eventually it’s 2024 and Crystal’s in the office about to leave with Charles when Charles casually leans over, kisses Edwin, who barely bothers to look up from his book, says “back soon, luv,” and then walks off like absolutely nothing out of the ordinary has happened, while Crystal’s standing there going WHAT. THE. FUCK. Charles I thought you said you weren’t with Edwin. Charles. Charles WAIT UP WHAT THE FUCK, CHARLES,

[lightlycareless]

I was thinking about what would happen if like Y/N or Naoya somehow turned into like a younger version of themself for a day and the other has to look after them. I think it’d be especially cute if the younger version only had memories up to that age. Like all I can imagine is little Naoya all shy with grown Y/N not realizing that’s his future wife or maybe little Y/N feeling a little intimidated by adult Naoya or maybe even overwhelmed since he probably dotes on her too much lol

UHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Also, I had to rewrite this various times because I wasn't sure how to begin!! Like I had the idea, but I just couldn't translate it into words; but, here it is! Which I hope will be to your enjoyment :>

Warnings: fluff. you and naoya turn into kids but in different occasions. who knows if they happened in the same timeline lol. there's also references to other works which I will link once I update the masterlist. :') but you're always welcomed to search in my prompts tag.

Happy reading!

On one hand, we have a young Naoya that at first, doesn’t believe there’s a girl like you walking around the estate. And secondly, that the two eventually marry… in the future? Your relationship is somewhat explained to him; whatever he could understand it anyways…

But it still doesn’t make it any better.

It’s just—impossible! There’s no way he’d ever be with a girl that… that is so rude like you! Improper of the Zen’in standard!

Yet, makes him feel all warm up inside whenever you prepare his favorite miso soup, make sure that he’s well-dressed if the weather is too cold…or checking up on him between your duties, simply to see if he’s alright, if he’s getting adjusted to this temporary situation while reassuring him a solution will be found.

Something that was unusually done, without an ulterior motive, that is. Which instinctively draws him closer and closer to you.

And that’s without even considering your affinity for the same hobbies as him! Like watching anime, reading manga… Naoya couldn’t keep to himself anymore, he needed to know more of his supposed wife.

“How do you know all that?!” He exclaims, surprised by your vast knowledge in all his favorite series.

“Well, I had someone to guide me. An excellent teacher, actually.”

“Really?! Who???” Naoya breathes, growingly slightly jealous at the notion of someone else gaining your attention—guess that has always been the same.

“It’s you, silly.” You giggle, gently patting his head and making him blush. “You’re very passionate about these things whenever talking about them, how could I just ignore you?”

If the previous situations weren’t enough to warrant his complete devotion, this was. Because from that point forward he begins to follow you everywhere, but no longer with the intention of scrutinizing you—no; or learn more about the future the two shared, but rather, with the desire to impress you!

Naoya needed to hear more of lovely laughter, your warm compliments, and your bright grin whenever bringing you gifts—like those flowers he somehow knew were your favorite though you never told him (not in this age), but yet made sense for a pretty girl like you.

“I’m also a really good sorcerer, you know? I can protect you if you’re ever in danger!” Naoya proudly states, unwittingly making you laugh. “It’s true! There’s no one stronger than me!”

“Oh, I know you’re the strongest.”

“…And the most handsome one too.” He quietly adds, you smile.

“Perhaps, but you’re undoubtedly cute right now.” You then pinch his cheek, flaring his face even further before giving you a dejected pout, in disagreement of your words. “Ah, there’s no need to get upset—being cute is just as good!”

“No, as the great heir of the Zen’in I can’t be cute, I have to be handsome!” he protests. “Heir’s have to be strong and intimidating, command fear with every step I take!”

“And you’ll do just that, in due time. There’s no rush to get there.” You explain, shuffling the top of his hair. “Everybody is doing their best to get a solution for your situation, so why don’t you enjoy being a kid again? Not everyone gets a second chance like this one.”

“Because I don’t want to, I want—” he suddenly goes quiet, as if slowly accepting his face. Or perhaps still making amends with it.

“What is it?” you worriedly ask, leaning closer to him. “Is everything alright?”

“…Will you wait for me, then?” Naoya says, making you blink. “To when I grow up and become stronger, capable of protecting you and making you happy?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration, a striking contrast from the unwittingly arrogant child that never missed a chance to show off and impress you… now doubting his own capabilities.

But you could see it in his eyes, even then, what you always suspected of him became true: Naoya longed to love, and to be loved. To feel important, cherished. That his life was more than just fulfilling his family’s expectations and obtaining power.

He wished to be part of something greater, and that proved to be a family with you.

A part of you aches knowing that, if you hadn’t met him, his destiny would’ve been vastly different. Stings understanding his childhood had been nothing short of lonely.

But what you weren’t able to do then, you’re capable of now. Given a chance to mend those pains, give him a sample of what’s to come…

Reassuring him that life indeed, gets better.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you. So, do your best until you become just that!” you cheer, offering him your pinky finger as the definitive sign of dedication, which he intertwines with his own soon after. “But don’t keep me waiting too long, we still have lots of things to do together once you’re grown up, ok?”

“I promise!”

When Naoya eventually returns to his normal self, you expected everything to go right back to how it was. But much to your shock, he’s unusually… shyer. As if ashamed that you got to see the only part he wished to keep a secret from you.

Yet, his actions would soon disprove your assumptions, revealing that the truth behind his demure actions were nothing less that appreciation, gratefulness at your unwavering commitment to take care of him, even when he was nothing less than a wimpy child—a stage in his life only God knows how much he needed that. To be cherished.

Makes him realize how truly blessed he is to have met you, and share his existence with yours.

Even on his last day on earth, he’ll never forget that.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite—at least in the very beginning.

When Naoya was nothing short of a reserved, shy piece of work, you went ahead and portrayed a striking contrast: enthusiastic to know all about this cool, somewhat handsome man that diligent took care of you.

Sure, you were a bit confused (frightened) as to why you were surrounded by people you didn’t know since you essentially lived at the Zen’in estate by that point, but after managing to calm you down by the presence of your family and a quick rundown of what happened to you, you were nothing but glued to Naoya, always excited to know what he’ll do that day, what cool technique he’ll perform during training…

Or, of course, what sweets he’ll bring for you to taste. Mochi are your all-time favorite hands down, but you’re always open for other suggestions.

“Do you like these?” Naoya would ask even though the answer was quite obvious in the way you gobbled all the treats one after another, yet he still wished to know.

“Yes! I love them!” you nod fervently, grabbing another sweet, unwrapping it, and moving it into your mouth. “They’re my favorite!”

“More than taro mochi?” He teases.

“No, that’s impossible. Taro is the best flavor in the whole world. Maybe Ube too.” You state confidently, in such adorable way he couldn’t help himself from laughing. And naturally, making you blush. “What…?”

“Nothing, guess it’s good to know that you’ve always been this way.”  Naoya admits.

“How?” you ask back, tilting your head.

“Like… you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s perfect.” He smiles before winking. “But I’m sure you already knew that, little princess.”

“N—no…” you quietly answer, looking away in hopes of calming your thundering heart, but of course, that would prove impossible for the following days because as soon as he uttered those words, they were imprinted into your mind… leading you astray.

From a giddy, playful girl, you soon turned into a blushing mess whenever he was around, now quietly admiring him from afar instead of eagerly approaching as you always did. As if you’ve grown self-concious…

And this sudden change obviously caused Naoya to worry; fretting if perhaps he had done something to bother you, if not worse…

But all those worries disappeared the moment you finally gathered all the courage to ask him what has kept your thoughts busy these past few days: about the relationship you two seemed to have beforehand.

Eyes glistening with curiosity as you eagerly awaited his response, revealing to him the hopeless in love child he always suspected you to be, far beyond the Gengar-loving, mochi enthusiast everyone knew.

“How did we meet?”

“At school, Jujutsu High.”

“What did you think of me?”

“That you were pretty.”

“And what did I think of you?”

“…That I was bold.”

“Did you like me??”

“Of course, I still do.”

“Did I like you too?”

“Not at fir—yes.”

“How did you ask me to be your girlfriend?! Oh, did you bring me flowers and chocolates?!”

“Actually, it was you who asked me to be your boyfriend.”

“Huh??? I thought you were supposed to do that!”

And Naoya wanted to, but your eagerness and fear of losing him made you move first. Now that he reflects on it, it’s quite endearing.

“It’s a moment I hold dear to my heart.” He confesses. “And I know you did too.”

You blush.

“…And where did we go for our first date? Was it Disneyland?!”

“Not quite, we went to the mall first.” Or technically, the fair. You frown.

“What?” He chuckles. “It was a nice date.”

“I always wanted my first date to be at Disney…”

“I did take you for Valentine’s day, though.” Naoya says, fondly recalling the way you… appeared to have fainted at his revelation. Luckily, you remained conscious throughout your whole visit at the park to make it memorable. “And we’ve gone many times after, too. I always took you whenever you wanted.”

“Really?” you breathe, stars in your eyes. “Did you really do that for me?”

Oh, if you only knew how far he’d go for you.

“I even bought you that giant Gengar you’ve always wanted. Got you all the gaming consoles you can think of, with the newest videogames too.” He goes on, each and every word making your smile wider and wider. “And naturally, all the sweets you can eat. But not too many, or it’ll be bad for you. I’d say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Yet, when he expected another question to follow suit, just as you’ve bombarded him these past few minutes, he’s welcomed by silence. A prominent saddened pout on your face as you seem to be… disappointed by his words. Or maybe the limits he’s had to place to your sugary addiction?

“Now, Y/N; it’s necessary for your health—”

“No, it’s not that.” You interrupt, shaking your head, before going eerily quiet yet again.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Naoya asks, worried at this point. “Does something hurt?”

“…I don’t want to be like this anymore.” You eventually confess, revealing the tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes; it’s a sight that has his breath hitching to his throat, tightening his heart.

“Y/N—”

 “I want to grow up!”

“You will, we’re already looking into it, remember? There’s no need to stress about it.” Naoya attempts to reassure you, carefully wiping away the tears in your eyes that simply keep on flowing. “Just hang on for a little longer, I promise this will be over sooner than you expect.”

“But—but what if it doesn’t? What if I stay like this forever?!” you sob, causing something in Naoya’s heart to tighten. “I won’t be able to live all those pretty things again!!”

“Then I’ll just have to find whoever did this to you and turn into a kid myself.” His sudden words earn him a quizzical look from you, which he presses on with a smile. “That way we can experience all those things together again, like it was the first time.”

“Na—Naoya…”

“I promised we’d always be together, through thick and thin. Even if we turn into kids, or 100 years old.” Naoya continues. “So don’t cry, little princess. As long as you have me around, everything will be alright.”

The culprit is soon found after that, and you, with the work of talented sorcerers, return to normal.

However, as in both instances, you kept these new memories as a child—alongside a sentiment of nostalgia that hindered you from doinganything else that wasn’t being close to Naoya.

Such was your determination that it actually pushed you to do one of the things you least enjoyed, which was seeking him when busy, heading straight into the training grounds where you knew him to be at this hour—ignorant of who else was there—to pour your affection in a tight embrace and sweet kiss.

A demonstration that he doesn’t reject, though he is startled by it. Upon noticing your longing, Naoya promptly dismisses the rest of his entourage, before captivating you into his arms and deepening your gesture.

“What is the meaning of this?” He breathes, slightly flustered as he debates whether to lean in for another kiss or let you talk. Naoya choses the latter, he asked for an answer, after all.

“Do I need one?” you respond, a smirk appearing on his lips as you rest your face against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “…I just wanted to thank you for… taking care of me—No. For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure.” And duty, he once swore. “And I’ll do it again, if you want me to.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” You give him a breathy laughter, looking up into his eyes. Remaining so, still, attentive to the gaze you fell in love with, before assessing your feelings yet again—your undeniable truth. “I love you.”

And Naoya smiles in response, placing a kiss on your forehead as he gives you the confirmation of what you already knew; for all eternity so.

“I love you too.”

This just made the two fall more in love with the other; also, when your kids eventually come along you can easily say "hey, they act like you!" and Naoya will no longer be able to deny it 🤣

As stated in the beginning, this was very sweet 🥺 Thank you so much for filling my life with a little bit of fluff—it's always necessary during these harsh times. Now I want to write domestic fluff jfc. Look what you have done... lmao 🤣

Anyways, thank you so much for sending me this ask!! I truly enjoyed writing it.

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[ghostinthegallery]

This scene wouldn't leave my head, so congrats it's the world's problem now.

In which Ratchet has a graveside chat with Wing, aka the dead guy that fixed his husband for him.

“I want to be very clear.” Ratchet placed the small cup full of engex at the base of the stone plinth. “I don't believe in ghosts or spirits or any of that nonsense. When we die, we die. That’s it. No Primus or Guiding Hand or cushy afterlife and definitely no looking out for the living. Got it?”

The grave did not respond, which was good. It was what Ratchet expected. He sat down, legs crossed, careful not to crush any of the shimmering blue flowers beneath him. 

“I'm just on the fragging necroworld, and I'm not above respecting the local customs.”

Sunlight warmed his back plating as he settled into place. It was a nice day. Most days on the necroworld were nice, when nobody was trying to kill them. Not a place Ratchet would want to stay long term, but it made for a decent rest stop. Even with all the reminders of how fragile life was. The death flowers and the graves.

Carved into this grave was simply the name Wing.

“He really wanted to find you, when he found out what this place was.” Ratchet said. “Drift, I mean. Or Deadlock, you might've called him that. Got all excited at the idea of visiting. You’re one of the only things in his past he'll talk much about.”

He stared at the engex he'd offered, then pulled a flask out of his subspace. No sense making the ghost—who did not exist—drink alone.

“Since he probably never mentioned me, I'm Ratchet. Medic. Drift's conjunx, but that’s a recent development.”

Had he seriously just introduced himself to a rock? Maybe he'd gotten knocked in the helm and forgotten about it and this was all processor damage. Still, it felt right to speak, so he did. Not like anyone else was around.

“I saved his life once, a long time ago. He stood out to me. To this day, I don't understand why, but maybe you saw it too. Maybe you saw something in him that made you want to help. Sounds like you did a lot for him. Probably more than me, if we're being honest. I got him back on his feet, but after that…” Ratchet sighed. “He was still poor as scrap. He still watched enforcers shoot his friend. He was still angry.”

The image of Drift walking away from the clinic, off to sell his frame to anyone who wanted to use it made Ratchet's tank feel sour. It worsened when he thought about what was actually going on at those clinics. He wondered what he would have done if he'd known.  

“It sounds like I have you to blame for all Drift's spectralist nonsense. So frag you for that. It's annoying as hell,” he continued, eager to change the subject. “Yeah, it helped him sort through things. Even I can admit that. When he's not using religion to hide from his problems, it…it gives him some comfort. Still killed a lot of good bots, but hey, he’s in good company.”

Ratchet had no desire to hunt down Drift’s statue and see how many of the necrobot’s death flowers surrounded it. Or how many surrounded his own statue, for that matter. 

“War’s over, and we’ve all got to move on somehow. Frankly, he’s doing better than most. Brave, resourceful, too self-sacrificing for his own good. You fixed him up nice.” Ratchet studied his flask. “And I get all the benefits. Doesn’t seem fair but, thanks. I guess.”

He sighed and adjusted his position. “He feels real guilty about what happened to you. Thinks you'd still be alive if you hadn't helped him. Maybe he's right. Who knows? But you don't sound like the kind of person that would regret helping someone. You sound better than that.”

Heaviness settled over Ratchet's shoulders as he said, “I don't regret saving him either. I never have, even when Deadlock was a name autobots whispered in the same tone as necrobot. And considering how things turned out,” he chuckled. “I don’t know if that makes me a hypocrite. I’m happier with him. Less tired. He just feels right.” Ratchet added, “Probably don’t have to explain that to you.”

The strangeness of this one-sided conversation hit him again, but not harshly. It was an easy way to unload his thoughts. Like a waking defrag. 

“The swords were a nice touch.” A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Drift looked good wielding those blades of his. Ratchet didn't mind the view when he trained. Didn't mind it in the slightest.

“He still carries your greatsword. Doesn't use it much, but it's always on his back.” Ratchet took another pull from his flask. “Been hearing some of the other bots say he should fight a duel with Cyclonus and his big greatsword which even I think is a bit sacrilegious, but—”

“There you are.”

Ratchet started then turned towards the familiar voice. Drift, footsteps annoyingly silent, approached from behind. His expression morphed from inquisitive to shocked when he got close enough to read the stone’s inscription.

“You found him,” Drift said softly.

Ratchet nodded and moved aside so Drift could kneel. Drift’s EM field was wild with conflicting emotions. Surprise, happiness, and grief mingled together, and he made no attempt to hide them. 

“I was about to come get you,” Ratchet said, which was technically true. He fully intended to bring Drift to his friend’s grave. After he was done with whatever this was.

Drift’s optics settled on the cup of engex. He smirked.

“Is that an offering?” He gasped with exaggerated shock. “A committed skeptic, bringing a gift to a ghost? Ratchet, is that you or some sort of mimic?”

Ratchet grabbed the finger Drift poked against his chest. “I didn’t want to get slag from you for being disrespectful.” 

His spark jumped as Drift pressed his hand into Ratchet’s and intertwined their fingers. Then, to Ratchet’s shock, Drift swiped the engex cup and downed it in one gulp.

“What was that?” he demanded, surprised at his own offense.

“Wing never drank engex,” Drift said. “He always gave it to me whenever mechs brought him anything. The Crystal City stuff was so diluted I couldn’t even get a buzz, but it took the edge off.”

“Ah.” Ratchet nodded. “Guess you two had an understanding.”

Drift nodded and let his frame lean into Ratchet’s. Silence settled over them. Ratchet ran his thumb over the back of Drift's hand while the latter grew contemplative. His face fell, melancholy overtaking his field. 

“I wish you two could have met,” Drift said. “He would have liked you.”

“I doubt that.” Ratchet replied. “But I’d have liked to meet him anyway.”

A breeze caught the flowers, like ripples over water. Ratchet didn’t interrupt when Drift shut off his optics and took a meditative intake. They stayed like that for a long time, hand in hand, while Drift steadied his field and Ratchet watched and took the occasional sip from his flask. He’d learned to savor quiet moments like this. They didn’t come often.

Drift’s optics brightened and he said, “Is there anyone here you want to see?”

Ratchet waved his free hand. “I get enough trouble dealing with the living. Don't need to invite the dead to cause problems too.”

“So you won’t come and visit Gasket with me?” Drift pouted.

Ratchet groaned. “I didn’t say that.”

With a smile that made Ratchet's internals melt, Drift helped him up. He then paused and offered a spectralist sign to Wing’s grave. 

“Farewell,” he said. “And thank you for everything.”

As Drift pulled Ratchet away, Ratchet dipped his chin towards the plinth and muttered his own nearly silent,

“Thanks.”

[slozhnos]

i think the most heartbreaking moment in childish things is winn and kara’s conversation at the docks bc like “no, you don’t really need me.” bit hurts me so much every time

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

hood is the ceo of “other people have it worse” /HJ

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted. 

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. “Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm– because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm– I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

[navybrat817]

Hello, Navy! Hope you're doing well. I'm here back again because i have a mighty need to tell you this:

just bucky saying "sit and take what you need, honey" and encouraging her to ride him with all her want/need... and not even 5 minutes in he's pleading "jesus, honey, wait you're gonna make me cum too soon" but his hands still encouraging her to keep going hard.

— 🍯anon

Oh, my beautiful nonnie.

Ride It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky encourages you to take what you want.

Word Count: Over 760

Warnings: Established relationship, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), light choking, dirty talk, possessive behavior, slight feels if you squint, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Work was a big ball of suck today, but I hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Sit and take what you need, honey.”

That was what Bucky told you almost five minutes ago, and now he's forcing himself not to move as you brace your hands on his thighs and roll your hips. He watches, completely entranced, letting you bounce on his cock and take what belongs to you. Your nipples still have a bit of shine from him sucking on them and he can’t help but slide a hand to your throat and gently squeeze.

You giggle, a breathy sound, before you say, “Harder.”

He obliges and feels you tighten around him. His strength doesn’t scare you. You crave it. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs when you moan. “Bounce on my cock. Take me.”

Just like he has his days when he simply fucking needs you, which is quite often, you have those days, too. So, when you went into the living room, naked, tugged on his sweatpants, and straddled him without a word, he was more than happy to let you take control. It makes him feel good that you need him. Though it was taking everything in him to not thrust up into you or flip you over and pound into your pretty pussy until you cried.

As long as you get off, you can fuck however you please.

But he feels his head start to spin, his eyes half lidded when he feels the dam close to breaking. “Fuck, honey, wait,” he begs when you move faster, dropping his hand to your hip. He doesn’t keep you still. His touch only encourages you. “Gonna fill you up too quickly if you don’t stop.”

And he has to get you off.

His words only encourage you more. “Yeah, big boy?”

“I’m serious. Gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warns. Only you can make him lose control.

“You can. It’s okay,” you smile, a heart stopping smile, when he bites his lip. “I want you to.”

“Honey…” he growls, another warning. He isn’t sure if it’s for you or himself.

“My pussy’s that good, isn’t it?” you asked, circling your hips. “You wanna fill me up, don’t you? Make my pussy yours.”

“Fuck me,” he groans, his head falling back. He loves when you talk dirty. Loves fucking each of your holes. Bucky just loves you.

“I am. I’m fucking this thick… huge… cock,” you moan, your back arching and your hand moving between your legs to play with your clit. It’s such an erotic, filthy display and he swears he’s going to blow his load in a few more seconds. “Making it mine.”

His breath hitches when you lean in, your lips touching the corner of his mouth. “Fuck, yeah. It’s yours,” he promises, his breath ragged as you grind yourself down on his cock. Your cunt feels too good, squeezing him like you own him, the same way he owns you. He just doesn’t want to let go without you. “Want me to come? Wanna milk my cock for all it’s worth?” he asks, smacking your ass and smirking when you shriek.

“Yes!” you cry.

“Then keep riding me. Use me. Own me.” The wet squelch from your bodies meeting is almost obscene and he loves it. Loves every sound, every movement. He still can’t believe some days that he has you. That he gets to fuck you, love you, keep you. You’re his, and he’s yours. “‘Atta girl.”

“‘m close, Bucky,” you moan. He can feel it. You’re practically dripping. Such a pretty fucking mess. He wants to clean it up with his tongue. “So, give it to me. Come with me. I need it.”

Bucky will never deny what you need.

His fingers dig in as he starts to quiver. Bucky wasn’t a man who quivered until you and your perfect cunt showed up in his life. And your greedy cunt milks him just like you want, and he wonders if his release is what triggers yours. The moans you let out don’t stop him from claiming your mouth and swallowing down the last sounds from your orgasm. And he can’t stop himself from finally lifting his hips, drawing one last moan from you.

“Fuck…” he pants, smiling and framing your face. “I love you.”

“I love your cock,” you sigh, and giggle when he nibbles on your bottom lip. “And you.”

That makes his heart soar. “Get what you need?”

“Almost.” There’s a spark in your blissed out expression, and his cock stays hard inside your clenching walls. “Think I need one more.”

He gives you three, and you thank him for it.

Nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

[tobeholyistobeempty]

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

so fucking obsessed with the idea of a you x ghost lovers-turned-enemies who just can’t stay the fuck away from eachother. it’s gross and it’s toxic and it’s brutal and it’s probably more insane than it should be but with all the war around you it’s one of the only fucking things left that makes you actually feel alive, so inevitably you end up back under him in new inventive ways each time you cross paths.

maybe you’re working for shadow company during the time graves decides to betray 141 - perhaps you didn’t know it was going to happen because you weren’t directly involved with that mission, after all, but with your rank, ghost has a hard goddamn time believing anything otherwise - no matter how many times he turns it over in his head.

so when he sees you - rather, when you all too conveniently find yourselves in the same map dot city, some shithole for some hellscape intel search while graves and his team are still actively after them - it’s all a little too much for him.

ghost doesn’t know who you’re serving, what your loyalty is, and decides that maybe he’ll just have to get that information out of you himself.

but that’s all little to your knowledge - because you don’t even know the fucker knows you’re here. it’s been a long fucking day. you’re already exhausted, graves has all but sent you to deathrow to chase dead end leads in circles, and everything just keeps getting worse with each passing day. but it’s late, and the motel that you’re staying in has a decent bar that you think you’d like to take advantage of.

you decide one quick drink can’t hurt, can it?

ha.

about as famous last words as any. because, turns out, it can. yes, it can hurt.

it can actually hurt real fucking good when the living embodiment of every mortal man’s nightmares decides (at the most convenient of times, because just so happens you left your gun back in your room) that he’s got questions for you, and isn’t too fucking keen on waiting for answers.

he strikes when the lights have gone out and the bar has closed. when the motel has fallen silent and the only noise is your footsteps as you creep down the hallway that leads to your door. you, however foolishly, drop your guard, thinking you have fuck all to worry about at this point - when suddenly the shadows by your door shift, and the owner of the hand that has the muzzle of a fucking gun pressed to the back of your head tells you that your mistake was waiting until so late, coming here so alone, and not realizing that the shadows in this place are not empty but instead filled with men that can see you just a little bit better than you can see them.

but when the voice sinks in, and you merely smile - dread subsiding as you ask him what took him so damn long to find you - he decides he isn’t too fond of the response. you’re inside your decrepit room only in a few moments after that, tied to a chair, and he’s just looking at you like he can’t quite figure out what’s so damn funny.

you let him have the win, you always do. you know that despite it all, when he’s infront of you like this, it’s never as ghost.

simon riley could never hurt you. not truly.

“who knows you’re here?” he husks, pale eyes surveying the room in a quick sweep. for show, you’re sure. he mapped every inch of this room before he’d even stepped foot inside.

you suck your teeth, fighting to let that shit-eating grin spread. “you mean like, my mom? dad? sister—“

“watch it.” he cuts you off, and the muzzle made of cool steel is pressed at the side of your jaw, shifting your head, turning it away from his. “y’know how i feel about tha’ smart fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“stupid questions get stupid answers.” you reply back sweetly, tilting your head a little so the steel digs in harder, amplifying the ache for the hell of it. “you’ve got a gun at my jaw, LT. talk to me straight.”

there’s silence, until there’s a hum - he shifts then, crouching beside your chair, stalling at eye level with you. “talk t’ya straight, huh.”

“you act like i don’t know why you’re here.” your chest feels tight, with the way he’s looking at you. it’s a battle with an army of its own to push it down. “you’re looking for the big man, aren’t you? graves. heard he—“

the press of his gun softens momentarily as his free hand finds the other side of your jaw, tilting your eyes back to him, forcing you to look him right in that dead fuckin stare of his.

“y’best be real careful about lying t’me, princess.”

“you can kiss my ass.” you smile thinly, and in the darkness you think you see his eyes gleam, but whether it’s out of irritation or out of something else entirely, you can’t be sure. you exhale. “i had nothing to do with graves’ little villain arc. i don’t know fuck all about it, or where he currently is. you’re wasting your breath.”

the muzzle of his gun trails down, down along your jaw and throat, sparking gooseflesh to life.

“liar.” he rasps, and despite all your moral instincts screaming at you that this is all but a shade off insane, when it comes to this behemoth of a man before you your depraved instincts are just a tad stronger. and when your thighs tense, he notices. “what’s it gonna take, mm? t’get ya talkin.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding - and ghost smiles. you see it through the crease in his mask - but just when he goes to speak again, your fucking cellphone, buried in your jacket pocket, starts to ring.

“well if that ain’t just my fucking luck.” you don’t need to see it to know who’s calling. you ignored check in twice already. too busy at the bar, drowning your sorrows. “ghost, listen—“

oh, he’s listening, alright. listening to the sound of that fucking ringtone filling the space between your words. you can’t tell he’s cocking an eyebrow at you, his eyes not leaving yours as he shifts a hand, reaching for your pocket. you open your mouth, but he’s already withdrawing your phone, snorting after a fleeting glance at the name lit up on it.

he turns it to you, and you try to fight it - but you can’t stop the deadpan. no matter how much you’d already known it would be him.

graves.

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

oh, dear go—

“this your fucking idea of a loyalty test?” you hiss, and you can suddenly feel your blood roaring in your ears, your heart hammering. “are you insane?”

that’s a redundant question, you think, and ghost must agree, because his only answer is to shift the gun in a way that allows him to press a fingertip against your pulse.

you swallow - he’s checking for pulse leaps like a fucking lie detector.

“mhm.” he purrs, absolutely loving this - before pressing a button on your phone, and a low rumble of anticipation rocks through you.

he’s put it on speaker - and the second it connects, graves is talking.

“sergeant.” he all but barks, and you tense, closing your eyes at the sound of his voice. he’s pissed. “where the fuck are you? you missed two of—“

“sorry, sir.” you say through your teeth, flicking your eyes to ghost. he just tilts his head, as if he’s saying go on, show me that you’re still mine. christ. “i uh, got a little…tied up.”

there’s a brief silence, presumably as graves just stands there (you can envision it in your head, crease in his eyebrows, hand clutching his phone - trying to determine what the fuck that means) before he eventually clears his throat.

“and what could you possibly have gotten yourself so tied up with that you can’t report in on time?” he asks, and you want to laugh, because if only he knew. your hands tense against the ropes, and he speaks again. “that was a rhetorical question, sergeant. you’d better have a damn good excuse for this.”

oh, you definitely have a good excuse, though you’re pretty sure that if you were to tell graves who it was that had you so very busy right now, he might just turn into fairy dust and transport himself through the phone to try and kill you both. (keyword, try.)

you open your mouth to answer but words disintegrate as ghost shifts, standing to his full height.

you look up at him, and the blood that rushes to your stomach is something catastrophic - so disarming that you almost forget graves is still on the goddamn line. you blink, and you’re about to say something, when ghost does something you don’t expect; he tucks the gun back into his holster, before moving to the buckle of his belt.

oh - oh.

“christ,” you breathe out, before you even realize it. and when ghost shoves the phone closer to your face, you realize you couldn’t give less of a fuck about graves at this moment. “sir—graves, i was fucking busy, okay? i had shit to do. you’re the one who sent me out here, into this goddamn nightmare, to do your grunt work. should i be really sitting around waiting for your call while you’re out sucking off the general?” the silence that answers you is deafening. and so is the rage you can suddenly feel permeating the air. you suck your teeth when he doesn’t answer. “right, well. if you don’t mind, i’d like to go the fuck to bed. i’ll call in first thing tomorrow.”

ghost’s fingers drift, starting to undo the latch and you know, with your heart and bloodied soul - that he’s smiling right now.

you hear a low, rumbling growl coming over the other end of the line - it takes you a moment to realize it’s coming from graves - and the next thing you hear is the dial tone as he hangs up, presumably plotting the ways he’s going to make your life hell for the next unforeseeable future.

but then, the belt buckle of ghost’s belt is undone, your phone is tossed somewhere behind him, and you find yourself smirking up at him with glistening lips.

“now, look what you made me do.” you whisper, a lazy drawl. “always doubting me, huh. insane fuck.”

and ghost just snorts at the insult, before taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and shoving it into your mouth. you groan at the sudden taste of leather and dust that touches your tongue - but when he leans over you, lips at your ear, it’s a little too easily forgotten.

“quiet now.” he murmurs, with an audible smile. your eyes close at the sound, and his breath against your neck makes you want to scream. “no more talkin’ less you’re good n’ beggin’ f’me put that mouth to proper use.”

you want to spit at him, just for the fun of it, but settle for biting down on the glove as you shift, trying to bring your legs together. but then he’s crouching between them again, pushing them back open with his bulk, and you can only groan as he rips the leather from your mouth.

“if he finds out,” the words spill out without much thought - as you stare into his eyes. “he’ll—“

“mmm.” he hums, leaning in to press his teeth against your jaw. “he’ll what.”

oh, the things your mouth should say. but if you’re being honest, the only thing you want your mouth to say right now is please.

“i’ll - i’ll be the next one getting shot at.” you hiss out as his hands find your thighs. “christ. untie me, asshole.”

“y’jus told the boss you’re tied up.” he mutters back, and from the heat of his breath alone, you know he’s smiling again. “wouldn’t’ wanna’ make a liar outta’ y’self now, would ya?”

————————————-

a/n: the way i would let this man ruin me is concerning.

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | 3.4k | ao3

five times people don't believe Steve and Eddie are dating + one time they have to

Made the silly post, decided to actually write it

1.

Eddie stops his van in front of Dustin’s house. His was the last stop of the drop off after the dnd session at Gareth’s house. Dustin turns towards Eddie. He is drumming his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the DIO song playing, never still. When Dustin doesn’t move, he turns to look at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Anything wrong, Henderson?”

He is looking at him with his big eyes and Dustin gulps. Even after everything they have been through, Dustin can’t help but feel nervous. There is still this feeling that tells him he has to try to impress Eddie, to be cool enough to be his friend.

“Will you teach me how to play guitar?” Dustin blurts before he chickens out.

Eddie looks at him with surprise, blinking a few times. He was clearly not expecting that question.

“Sure.”

“Wait- really?” Dustin is genuinely surprised. A part of him knew that Eddie wouldn’t say no, but he fully expected some teasing, some ‘what, Henderson, you wanna be like me?’ which. Yes. But he didn’t want Eddie to say it.

“Yeah dude, why not?”

Dustin lets out a delighted laugh and slaps the dashboard. “Yes! Thank you! When are we starting? Any time is good for me-“

“Calm down,” Eddie says with a chuckle.

“What about tomorrow? I can do tomorrow. I will bike to your house after school and you can teach me the basics or-“

“Calm down Henderson,” Eddie repeats louder. Dustin shuts up. “I can’t do tomorrow.”

Dustin’s heart breaks a little. “Why?”

“Because this humble bard has a date with Steve Harrington.” He has a stupid smile on his face when he says it.

There are a couple of seconds of silence and Dustin knows that he is pulling a face.

“Dude, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” Eddie looks baffled, almost offended, but there is a shiver going down Dustin’s spine.

“Like that! A date? Just say you are hanging out like a normal person.”

He is used to Eddie’s way of saying things, rarely in a normal way, but that was weird. Don’t get him wrong, he is very happy that Steve and Eddie have stopped acting like idiots every time Dustin mentioned the other and that they are hanging out now. But it’s still strange, seeing them actually getting along so well.

“If I’m going to have the King all to myself I am calling it a date.”

“STOOOP! It’s weird.”

“What is it Henderson?” Eddie says in a teasing tone as he leans towards Dustin. “Jealous that me and Steve are giving each other a bit of love?”

“Stop saying it like that!” Dustin screams. This would be so much weirder if Dustin didn’t know he is just teasing him. Maybe it was better when they were not friends.

The front door to his house opens, and Dustin scrambles to get out of the van before his mother can come and embarrass him more. The last thing he hears is Eddie’s crackling laugh.

2.

“Okay, what is happening?” Robin asks as soon as the door closes after the girl that had just rented Back to the Future.

“Something’s happening?” Steve sends a brief look around with a confused frown on his face before he looks at Robin.

“That girl.” Robin gestures to the door for emphasis.

Steve snorts, “yeah. Back to the Future? That’s funny.” He says as he crosses his arms in front of himself.

“That is not what this is about.”

“It’s not?”

“No! She was a babe!”

“Was she?” Steve looks at the door again, like he had not even seen the girl, like it had not even occurred to him to look at the girl. Robin could kill him.

“Yes! She was!”

“Did you want me to set you up with her? Because I will, you know that. Maybe we can have a code for that, you say- I don’t know- ‘have you watched Fast Times?’ and I will put my best wingman skills to use. I will get you a date in no time.”

Steve is the best friend Robin could ask for. He is also incredibly dumb and she is going to strangle him.

“I didn’t want you to set me up with her.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“The problem is that you are Steve Harrington and you didn’t even try to flirt with her! You should have been all over her, trying to get a date or her number. You haven’t been on a date in weeks! And it’s not even that you are striking out like in scoops, you are not even trying Steve. What is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean I haven’t been on a date in weeks, I was with Eddie just yesterday, I told you.” He has this confused frown on his face, like he seriously doesn’t understand where Robin is coming from.

“Steve, hanging out with Eddie doesn’t count as a date. Also, ew, don’t put that image in my head, I know he is our friend now or whatever and that you like hanging out with him but I would hope for you to have better taste than that.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Eddie? Seriously? Did you see the stains on his mattress?”

Steve pulls a face, like had not thought about it before. “We’ll buy a new mattress.”

Robin looks at him, trying her best to communicate how gross she finds Eddie with her mind. Steve looks back at her with his eyebrows raised, daring her to say something else about Eddie.

The bell at the door interrupts them. It’s not a babe this time, just a normal guy, returning a tape. They act like the professionals they are until he is out of the door again.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t flirt with him?” Steve asks, his hand gesturing to the door in that annoying way of his.

“No,” Robin says, but Steve doesn’t really wait for her answer before he continues talking.

“I didn’t because I am dating Eddie!”

“No you are not,” Robin answers with a snort.

“Yes I am.” Steve looks completely betrayed. “I am with him almost every day.”

“Oh, I know what is happening.” It’s so clear, so easy to understand now that Steve has said that. She puts her hands on Steve’s shoulders. He looks at her with a frown, a tilt of his head as he uncrosses his arms in confusion. “Steve.” She tries to convey as much seriousness as she can, just so Steve understands what is happening too. “Just because you have realised you like boys and he is gay and you two are hanging out, it doesn’t mean you two are dating.”

“Oh fu-“ he tries to move away from her but she clutches his shoulders tightly.

“You have to learn how to have friends your age, Steve. Remember when you though you liked me? I got away because I don’t like boys, and Eddie does! But that doesn’t mean he is into you!”

Steve rolls her eyes at her. The audacity. He bats her arms away with more easiness than Robin would like to admit. “Whatever.” He just says.

3.

“Steve”

“Mike” Steve answers in the same serious tone. If not a bit confused. Mike had followed him inside when he had come to get some drinks. He can still hear the others in the pool outside.

“I saw you speaking with Nancy.” Mike states. They had been speaking, close, too close. “And Dustin told me you were making eyes at her during the Vecna thing.”

“What?” Steve whispers as he shakes his head while he takes the drinks out of the fridge.

“Anything to say to defend yourself?” Mike asks him. He crosses his arms, tries to put on a serious pose. Intimidating, as much as he can.

“Listen,” Steve starts, he turns towards Mike him and leans back on the counter. He crosses his arms, and it makes Mike shift, conscious of his own crossed arms. He doesn’t like his tone, as if he is talking to a kid. “I know you are still pissy about me dating your sister, for some reason,” he uncrosses one of his arms to say it. “But she is with Jonathan now and I am totally over her.” Mike just squints at him. He doesn’t believe him. Everyone knows that Steve is not over Nancy. “Totally! I mean it. I’m dating Eddie now.” He says it like it’s a question.

Mike snorts. That is the stupidest lie Steve could have come up with to try to get out of this. “As if.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie is too cool to date you.”

“He is too- I’ve saved your life,” he points to Mike.

“Eddie is still cooler.”

Steve takes a deep breath and Mike doesn’t really want to hear what Steve is going to say to defend himself. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything, his mouth closing as his eyes drift someplace behind Mike.

“I was promised beer,” Eddie’s voice comes from behind Mike.

“You’d have it if Mike here hadn’t decided to give me shit,” Steve answers as he moves to open a can of beer and hands it to Eddie when he gets to him.

“Just-“ Mike huffs. “Don’t get any ideas with my sister.” He says it as he points to Steve while he walks back outside.

Mike doesn’t stay to see Steve’s reaction, but he hears Eddie say “anything I should be worried about?” before the noise of the others drowns everything else.

4.

Max and Eleven giggle as the stand outside of the window to Eddie’s room. He is inside, they can see the lump inside the sheets and the mess of curls on the pillow. They look at each other and nod with a grin before they start banging on the window and shouting his name.

Eddie starts on the bed, Max could swear he lifts a few centimetres from the bed she can hear him scream ‘jesus christ’ through the window before he turns towards them with a squint. He sits up on the bed and reaches across to open the window, he is not wearing a shirt, so they have a full view of all his tattoos. It’s not like Max ever wants to see them so close, but she knows El likes them.

“What the FUCK Mayfield,” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. Then, after a second of him squinting and them more. “Mini Hopper.”

Max doesn’t answer, because behind Eddie another lump is raising from the bed and looking at them with a squint. “Max? Is anything wrong?” Steve asks as he rubs his face and hair with the hand that is not currently propping him up.

“I…” Max starts, but she doesn’t continue. Sure, she had seen Steve shirtless at the boat that one time when they were going after Vecna, but it was nighttime and she had to look through some shitty binoculars.

Eddie reaches a hand back to try to push Steve back down, but it doesn’t really work. He just pushes his face, and Steve lets himself be pushed, just for a bit, before he is straightening again.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says as he snaps his fingers in front of Max. It works on bringing her attention back to him. “Anything wrong?”

Max shakes her head.

“Are you having a sleepover? I also sleep with Max when we have a sleepover,” El asks.

Eddie looks between them for a couple of seconds before he says, “sure we are.”

It just sounds like he just wants to get rid of them.

“You boys are gross, can’t you put a shirt on?” Max asks. Billy was always walking around shirtless too.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Eddie just replies.

“Did anything happen?” Steve insists.

“We had a sleepover,” El says.

“Yeah, gathered that,” Eddie deadpans.

“We came so you will take us out for pancakes.”

Eddie groans as he lets himself fall back on the bed and looks up at Steve.

“I totally blame you for this being my life now, just so you know.”

Steve just laughs and pushes his face to the side. Max pulls a face, their friendship must be one of the weirdest things that has come out of the whole Vecna thing. Steve turns towards them with a stupid smile on his face.

“Go get your things, we will be out in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?!” Eddie protests, but Max and El don’t pay attention to him, already celebrating and running back to Max’s.

The last thing she sees is Steve leaning down towards Eddie with a hand on his face out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t really put much thought to it.

5.

Lucas loves having Steve to play with. After all the Vecna stuff, he didn’t really want to hang out with the guys from basketball all that much, so Steve had stepped up. He had bought a hoop for his big driveway for them to practise and everything.

The day is hot, and they have been going at it for hours, so they are both sweaty and tired. They are at Steve’s driveway. It’s just them, sweaty under the sun, and Eddie sitting on a folding chair on the side, for some reason. He was already here when Lucas had arrived, and he had refused to leave. He is on the shade, reading a book, looking way more comfortable than them.

“Pause for drinks?” Steve asks, and Lucas is very happy to agree with him. “Hey!” he yells towards Eddie, he jumps as he looks up. “Don’t think I don’t see you looking at me like a creep. You should be getting us drinks.”

“Sorry sweetheart.” Eddie shouts back as he waves his book.

“Drinks, now.” Steve says with a jerk of his head towards the house.

Eddie drops the book in his haste to stand up and follow Steve inside. They are weird, they act so weird all the time. They should get girlfriends, that way they would maybe stop being weird with each other.

“You want anything, Lucas?” Steve asks as he walks away.

“Just a soda!” Lucas calls out after them.

Steve gives him a thumbs up as he goes through the door.

It’s ten minutes later that Lucas starts to wonder what’s taking them so long. He got tired of practising shoots, and also of sitting down on the grass waiting for them.

The house is blessedly chilly and dark when he comes in.

“Steve?” he calls out.

He walks towards the kitchen. There is sound coming from it, shuffling. When he gets close enough to the kitchen he hears Eddie speak quietly.

“Were you afraid your neighbours might see, big boy?”

“Shut up,” Steve answers. Then there are some wet sounds and when Lucas comes into the kitchen Steve is all over Eddie and-

“DUDE!” Lucas screams. Steve jumps away from Eddie. “What are you doing? What if Robin had seen you?”

Steve looks around. “What?”

“Dustin said you like Robin, what if she was here and she saw you…” he can’t even describe what they were doing, he just knows that if some girl saw that, she would never consider dating Steve.

“I don’t want to date Robin, why does everyone think I want to date Robin?” Steve says.

Lucas doesn’t answer. He just looks at Steve. If it’s not Robin, it’s Nancy, for sure. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her, or anyone.”

Eddie laughs like a maniac, Lucas just squints at him and goes to grab his soda.

+1

Robin is not sure how they have ended up here. At the Hideout. On a Tuesday. With all the kids and Eddie’s band helping them get ready before even the freaking owner has arrived. She doesn’t know what about Eddie he thought was reliable enough to give him the keys to the bar, but she guesses it’s ‘I don’t want to go work early because some teenagers want to set up their instruments to play their shitty music’. It works for them though, because the kids had been saying how much they wanted to see them play, but they are not allowed to come into the bar when it’s open, so they have come extra early so they can listen to a couple of songs before people start arriving.

“Hey lovebirds!” A voice shouts. It’s one of Eddie’s bandmates. Gareth, Robin thinks he is called. “Stop being disgusting and come here so we can start?”

Robin turns to look for who he could be calling out for. Nancy and Jonathan have not come today, and everyone is in the stage area, everyone except…

“Did you just call Steve and Eddie lovebirds?”

“Yeah, since they started dating they’ve been unbearable.”

“DATING?” Dustin shrieks beside them.

“Shit, sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?” Gareth asks, and he sounds genuinely scared. Robin would normally appreciate it but-

“Oh, you think they are actually dating?” Dustin asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question, more like a realisation.

“Aren’t they?” Jeff asks.

“No, no, it’s just Eddie saying weird things.” Dustin dismisses, but Robin is frozen in place, the cogs in her mind turning.

“You are not dating?” Gareth asks to the side and yep, there Eddie and Steve are, now close to them. Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they are leaning against each other.

Shit.

“We are,” Steve says easily. “They just don’t believe us.” Eddie bumps his head against Steve’s and he moves his head slightly away with an annoyed look that looks more fond than anything else.

Robin and Dustin are gaping at them and, from the sudden quiet around them she guesses the rest are too.

“Wait you two are actually dating?!” Lucas voice comes from behind them. “But Dustin said you weren’t going out with anyone because you liked Robin?”

That shakes Robin out of it, if only to turn around and say, “Ew, no.” Doesn’t matter who he is talking to.

“And I told Mike and Robin I was dating Eddie,” Steve says. “And you saw us kissing.”

“Yeah but- I don’t know.”

Eddie’s bandmates are now dying of laughter, Robin can’t even blame them.

“How was I supposed to believe you were telling the truth!” Robin exclaims. That provokes more laughs.

“Wait,” Max intervenes. “So that day you were sleeping together without a shirt…” She trails off, but they all see in her face what she just realised. “Gross!”

“Oh shut up Mayfield,” Eddie says. “I saw you looking at my boyfriend’s tits.”

That shuts Max up.

“You really are dating Steve?” Mike asks.

“Yes, and no stupid comments or your character is dead Wheeler.” Eddie states, pointing to Mike with the arm that is not around Steve.

And that shuts Mike up with a huff and a shake of his head.

“So you two are boyfriends?” El asks. “I think that’s cute.”

“Thanks El,” Steve says.

“I can’t believe you got with a boy before I got with a girl!” Robin exclaims. “And I didn’t know!”

“You would have known if you had believed me!” Steve exclaims back.

“Well sorry for thinking about your dating record and drawing conclusions.”

“Okay, okay,” Gareth interrupts them. “As funny as this is, we need to start now if we want to play anything before the owner arrives.”

“Let’s get this party going,” Eddie exclaims. He moves away from Steve to grab his guitar, and then goes back to Steve and kisses him on the lips. Actually kisses him on the lips in front of everyone, and Steve doesn’t really react except from a smile because why would he? They have been boyfriends for weeks apparently. “Be back in a minute sweetheart.”

Robin fake gags.

Steve moves to stand next to Robin. He has this shit eating grin on his face that Robin can’t stand.

“Shut up,” she says.

Eddie is on the stage now, looking at them with a stupid smile on his face. She should have known they were dating.

“Told you so,” Steve just says.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

req by @lizbix for 700 event

OIKAWA who is “just a friend”

OIKAWA who dedicates every serve (even the ones he misses) to you with a wink and a cocky grin, throwing in a “just because you’re special to me,” on occasion, but it’s all strictly platonic. yep.

OIKAWA who tosses his volleyball jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold, and just before you can see the gentle fondness in his eyes, he brushes it off with a “just displaying my kindness. thank me with a kiss later, mhm?”

OIKAWA who only smiles when you hit him in return, but really just wishes you’d take him seriously.

OIKAWA who is always staring at you when his fangirls try to get his attention — he doesn’t even realize it, but they sure do.

OIKAWA who sniggers to himself every time he’s asked if you two are a thing, because in his mind, you kind of are. he won’t deny what he believes to be true. if he’s right, he’s right.

OIKAWA who always manages to somehow slip into your house, and you often find him sprawled out in your bed, snoring like he’s in hibernation.

OIKAWA who smirks lazily as you let out a deep sigh and crawl in beside him, wrapping his arms around you and ignoring your excuse of “I’m tired” and “it’s obvious you won’t move anyway.”

OIKAWA who is just a friend, but you’re curled up under the covers with him and sinking into his warm embrace, soft skin brushing over his as his heat seeps into you.

maybe OIKAWA is just a friend, but as he presses his face into the crook of your neck and mumbles something that sounds scarily similar to “I love you,” it doesn’t feel like it. not like you mind.

OIKAWA who denies any hints at his sleepy confession profusely, telling you it must’ve been a dream — a fantasy of yours that you’d gotten caught up in that day. he says he doesn’t blame you, he gets it a lot.

OIKAWA who only admits that he did, in fact, tell you he loved you back then three years later. he figured it was a good time, because now you’re curled up in bed once again, except the covers are not yours. they’re his too; property of the home you’d created not long after graduation.

OIKAWA who stares at the back of your head, stunned, when all you responded with was a smile and an “I know.”

OIKAWA who feels really dumb afterwards, but he figures it’s alright, since he ended up at his planned destination all the same. he’s still mad he lost so much time, though.

I cannot write for oikawa I think. please don’t attack me for this.

gen tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @gumims @cinnamxnangel @aldebrana

[myderis]

savior ꒱ phainon 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.5k

"Quick, hide me!" you were in a total panic running to PHAINON using him like a human shield as your hands found a place on his back, gently tugging his cape. Although he didn't have time to react, he knew you were in big trouble if you were looking for him. "What is it this time, my lady? You stole another scroll, rode a droma unsupervised, scammed someone, or—?"

"Where is she?" you panicked even more hearing the voice of none other than Mydei and his footsteps that could tear the ground apart, and maybe even your dignity. "Where's who?" Phainon's calm voice carried just enough to sound believable. He didn’t flinch as the prince’s towering frame loomed closer, his eyes blazing like twin suns. The Deliverer shrugged slightly, ensuring his broad frame blocked you from sight as you pressed closer to his back, your heart pounding like a war drum.

"You know exactly who I’m talking about," Mydei growled. His tone was edged with frustration, and you could almost feel his glare cutting through the space between them. "She drank all of my pomegranate juice. Do you have any idea how long I waited for the harvest? Where is she?" At those words, your stomach twisted with guilt and fear. You hadn’t meant to drink all of it… but it was just so good.

Phainon tilted his head, considering. "Pomegranate juice, you say? That’s tragic. But alas, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her.” leaning casually against a pillar as if Mydei’s wrath was the least of his worries. "Perhaps she’s taken to the market? Or gone to annoy someone else?" 

Mydei hesitated, uncertain whether to believe Phainon or keep pressing him for answers. After a long, tense pause, he sighed, not wanting to bother himself anymore.

"Fine. If you see her, tell her to face me like an adult," You shot your savior a silent, desperate thank-you from behind his back. He subtly shifted, blocking you further from view. Mydei narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it, but after a moment, he huffed, muttering something about “finding her eventually” before storming off.

As soon as he was gone, you stepped out from behind Phainon. "I owe you my life," you said dramatically, your heart still racing. "Or at least my dignity."

Turning to you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "You owe me more than that, I think. But we’ll start with the truth—what did you do?"

You hesitated, then confessed, "I… drank all of Mydei’s pomegranate juice. I was thirsty! And it was just sitting there, looking—"

"Delicious?" Phainon finished, smirking. "You’re lucky I’m good at lying."

"Lucky doesn’t even cover it. I don’t know how to thank you," you admitted, a gentle smile appearing on your face and Phainon crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "I can think of one way."

Your stomach did a little flip. "Do you want to go out on a date?"

He chuckled, blue eyes shining with adoration, "I was going to suggest you replace the juice, but now that you mention it… I won’t say no."

You flushed, but you couldn’t help but laugh. "It’s settled then,"

"At least for now, my lady," he teased, making you wonder how draining Mydei’s pomegranate juice wasn’t the worst decision you’d made after all.

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Teddy Bear Bucky

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: For once, the usually tense and stoic soldier is completely at ease, making for an amusing sight when someone finds you asleep on Bucky's chest.

Word Count: Roughly 1.3k

Warnings: Fluff, death threats (playful), roughhousing, chaos, chasing, and brief mentioning of Bucky's past if you squint.

Part 1: Sunshine in His Shadows

P.S. It can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want to know how it led up to this point, part 1 is above :)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

The morning sun poured through the compound windows, its warm rays spilling across the living room, casting a soft glow in the room. You were nestled soundly on top of Bucky, curled into him like he was your personal, oversized teddy bear. His head rested against the back of the couch, one arm protectively wrapped around you. For once, he wasn’t tense or scowling; he was completely relaxed, a rare sight for someone so used to being on edge for years.

And if you squinted, there was a faint smile on his face.

Steve walked past the living room but came to an abrupt halt at the sight. His eyes widened, and he rubbed them as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, a grin spread across his face. A shit-eating grin at that.

"Oh, this is gold," he whispered to himself, eyes lighting up with the realization of what he had to do. With a quiet chuckle, he darted off, eager to recruit to show others.

A few minutes later, Steve returned, followed by Natasha and Sam. Natasha glanced at the scene, then raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. Sam, however, wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled out his phone with a wicked grin, his camera aimed at the precious moment unfolding in front of him.

“This is too good to pass up,” Sam murmured, crouching low to get the perfect angle. “Grumpy Barnes being used as a human pillow? For his sunshine no less? This is legendary.”

Natasha sipped her coffee with a knowing smirk. “He’s totally going to kill you for this, right?”

“Yeah, well,” Sam grinned, swiping through his phone. “I’ll send out the picture before he forces me to delete it. The old man doesn’t understand technology.” His fingers tapped out a message to Wanda, who’d probably get a good laugh out of it.

The sound of a camera shutter clicked softly, but just as Sam thought he was in the clear, Bucky stirred beneath you. His brow furrowed slightly, and for a split second, everything seemed still. Then, the faint creak of a floorboard sent Bucky’s instincts into overdrive. His eyes shot open, scanning the room like a hawk, before landing on the source of his irritation: Sam, his phone raised triumphantly, with Steve and Natasha struggling to hold back laughter in the background.

Before Bucky could fully react, you shifted against him with a groggy groan. You blinked your eyes open, still half-asleep, and found yourself looking up at him in confusion. 

“Bucky? What-?” 

It only took a moment for the embarrassing realization to hit. You had somehow fallen asleep on top of him, completely unaware. Your face flushed as your eyes widened, and you started to apologize, but before you could even say a word, Bucky gently but swiftly lifted you off him, placing you back on the couch. 

He stood, as though trying to shake off any evidence of what had just happened, then grabbed a blanket nearby and tucked it around your shoulders, making sure you were comfortable and warm.

“Stay warm, sunshine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough but strangely tender.

Sam, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing. “Oh, man, I’m framing this one. You look like a giant grizzly bear trying to babysit a kitten.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened with a glare so intense, it could’ve burned a hole through Sam. His voice was low and dangerous. “Delete it. Now.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I didn’t do anything! Steve told me!” Sam raised his hands in mock surrender, but his grin was impossible to hide.

Bucky’s focus shifted to Steve, who was pretending to be innocent. “Hey, don’t blame me! I had to tell someone what I saw. Kill him, not me.”

“See you, sucker!” Sam snickered, bolting for the door, phone clutched in his hand tightly.

“Hey, wait!” Steve scrambled after him, grinning as he caught up with Sam.

Bucky didn’t waste a second. With a growl, he chased after them, his heavy footsteps pounding like thunder in the compound. Steve was laughing as he ran, shouting, “Don’t let him catch me!”

“I’m gonna make you both regret that,” Bucky roared, his voice deep and fierce as he quickened his pace.

Still nestled in the blanket, you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake the sleep from your system. The chaos unfolding in front of you was enough to make you frown sleepily. 

“What...what is happening?” you mumbled, looking up at Natasha, who was still watching the scene unfold, an amused look on her face.

She leaned down to gently smooth your hair, offering you a warm cup of coffee. “Just another day in paradise. You fell asleep on Bucky, and now he’s off hunting down Sam for taking pictures. Steve opened his mouth and pretty much condemned himself. Typical.”

You buried your face in the blanket, your cheeks burning crimson. “I fell asleep on Bucky?”

Natasha smirked knowingly. “Oh, yeah. And he didn’t even complain. He stayed perfectly still for you. It was actually kind of adorable.”

The flush on your face deepened, and you peeked out from the blanket. “I can’t believe this.”

Natasha sipped her coffee, smirking at you one last time. “I’m going to see if Wanda got the picture.” With that, she made her way out of the room, leaving you alone to process the madness.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Sam and Steve were running for their lives. Sam glanced over his shoulder, still laughing, though his breath came in short bursts. “You can’t kill us both, Barnes!”

“Try me,” Bucky growled, a wicked grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he closed in on them.

Steve, managing to duck into a nearby room, slammed the door behind him. Sam, realizing he was alone and defenseless, let out a panicked yell. “Traitor!”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Sam by the back of his shirt with a single motion, yanking him to a stop. “Gotcha, birdbrain.”

“Wait! Wait!” Sam held up his phone, waving it frantically. “I’ll delete it! I swear!”

Bucky snatched the phone from Sam’s hand, eyes narrowed with irritation. He quickly checked the screen, making sure the photo was gone. Satisfied, he shoved the phone back into Sam’s chest with a low growl. “If I see that picture anywhere, you’re dead.”

Sam held up his hands, clearly not wanting to push it any further. “Message received, Sergeant Teddy Bear.” He backed away with a half-grin, hands still raised in surrender.

Bucky shot him one last glare before walking back toward the living room, shaking his head at the chaos. By the time he returned, you had sat up on the couch, still wrapped in the blanket, your face a mix of sleepiness and embarrassment. 

“Did you really stay still all night just so I wouldn’t wake up?” you asked softly, your shy smile tugging at his heart.

Bucky’s expression softened just the slightest. He shrugged, trying to hide the warmth he felt spreading through him. “Didn’t want to ruin your sleep, sunshine.”

A small, genuine smile spread across your face as you stood up and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He froze for a split second, caught off guard by the sudden affection. Then, slowly, his arms came around you, pulling you into a hug of his own. His voice was gruff as he mumbled, “Yeah, yeah.”

For a moment, everything was still. The harshness that usually clung to him was nowhere to be found, replaced by something softer, warmer, and something he wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge yet.

For now, he’d take all of the teasing, even if it meant chasing down Sam and Steve every day. Because if it meant getting to see that sunshine smile of yours, it was all worth it.

Every single time.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

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Much love x

- Maeve