#but i hope it works out for you in one way or another

[tonycries]

Bed Chem - T.F.

Synopsis. No, you’ve never gone through a heat. No, your big bad neighbor, Toji Fushiguro, hasn’t had a rút in years. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive when all that changes with your…bed chem.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Toji, OMÉGAVERSE AU, slight enemies-to-Iovers, rúts, breéding, MARATHONS, cúmplay, búlges, Toji is BIG, heats, face-sítting, 69, spítting, praise, oraI (f + m), knottíng, he goes FÉRAL, DÚMBIFICATION, one use of “ma’am”, fated mates, matíng bites, p talking, breaking furniture, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.9k (whoops)

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“-oh! And, darling, my friend recently showed me this new serum that could-”

“-help with my…condition, huh?” You’re finishing off, teeth grit almost as hard as your fingers were around your glaring phone. “Mom- I’ve already told you that I want nothing to do with those sketchy inducers. I’d rather stay dormant like this forever.”

There’s slight static crackling from the other end of the line, “I’m just so worried for you, especially with that massive alpha-”

“Who? Wait- Toji?” You’re braving out a chuckle, gut clenching at the memory of your utterly hot new neighbor and his muscles upon drool-worthy muscles. “Y’know, the doctor has already determined that it’s impossible for me to go into my first heat now.”

And despite it all, you can’t help but drink in a deep inhale the moment you step foot into your cozy local convenience store. Only for your senses to be met with…nope. Nothing, again.

“Besides-” Fingers hovering over that angry red End button, you’re speed-walking your way as inconspicuously as possible towards the Heats and Ruts aisle. “-Toji doesn’t have ruts.”

Well… 

Nobody ever said that you weren’t a hypocrite - but, hey, you were desperate at this point. 

Even if you had to consider another one of your mom’s attempts to artificially induce your inner omega into finally putting in the work.

With your goodbyes hastily muttered, and your phone stowed deeply away into one of your pockets, you find yourself slowing down near that one particular section of the Omega shelves. Gulping at the somewhat-shady inducer portion that you found yourself familiar with ever since you’d reached late puberty without a single heat. 

It was ridiculous, but it wasn’t impossible. 

Mandatory school bloodwork revealed you to be an omega - yet, you felt like anything but that. Anything but what you supposedly were as you watched more and more of your fellow omega classmates miss out on a week or two of school to deal with their heats. 

Consoling you with pitying glances and half-hearted complaints that alpha scents were annoying anyway. But you didn’t care if the pheromones were obnoxious, and the cycles even more so.

Your months just came and went by without any of it.

You’d visited many fertility and growth doctors over the years, and not a single one had been able to pinpoint exactly what was blocking you from accessing the pheromones and biology that everyone else could. That you wanted to. 

Hell, even betas were said to have at least a faint ability to smell wafting clouds of musky perfumes.

Most professionals claimed that everything was as it should be, that you might just be dormant - a late-bloomer, if you will. A very, very late bloomer. 

A majority presented at the start of puberty, or perhaps - in only very rare, alleged cases you found on barren forums - after meeting their fated mate. Two souls bound to fill in each other’s missing pieces. 

The theory was something you let yourself indulge in guilty sips, the sort of fantasy that flashed through your mind right before you wound up with yet another heartbreak.

But after graduating college without a mere half-sign of anything to do with your second gender, you vehemently called bullshit on that one. 

Some suggested that you might merely be a beta in disguise. It was almost comforting to think that it might have all been one big mix-up, yet, every medical test after medical test you’d done always came out the same. 

An omega.

“Damn second genders.” You’re grumbling, traitorously curious fingerpads skimming over the sterile boxes of medicines with official-sounding names. You’d tried out a few with the least amount of side-effects before, and it always ended up being a waste of your time (and your paycheck.) “Damn- damn inducers-”

CLACK!

In your reveried haste a few unstable boxes of products found themselves plonking onto the ground. Wincing at the withering glare of the manager unhelpfully peeking in from a few aisles down, you urgently dropped to your knees to put them back-

“Damn, what did those scented lotions do to you? Remind me not to get on your bad side, doll.” 

You see him before you hear him - strong, engulfing hands motioning into your field of vision to dexterously grab at the mess you’d created. 

And then once you hear him it isn’t any better, because you could recognize that richly rumbling baritone anywhere. 

“Wha-” Cutting your own self off with a strangled mess of a yelp the moment your furrowed gaze looks with viridescent eyes. “-oh.”

Oh? Oh?

Toji Fushiguro quirks up one brow in a way that is unfairly attractive, sultry scar engraved onto one side of his sleazy grin tilting up ever-so-slightly. And was that- a dimple? “Heh- n’ the pretty girl says oh. Cat got your tongue, sugar?”

It’s only then that you’re realizing that this was the first time you’d ever been so…close with the man himself. 

Usually settling for grumbling conversations from your doorstep and incoherent text conversations from his toddling, cherub-faced son stealing Toji’s phone.

So ah, there was one thing you’d forgotten to mention to your mother. Sure, you might have let it slip that Toji was…ruggedly handsome - all Herculean physique, a glossy black Harley Davidson bike, and long legs that carried him well over six feet - but you’d always omitted one thing. 

He was just so cocky.

And you can already feel your blood curdling strangely in your veins, scoffing out a heated puff of breath. “Nah, more like the alpha in the Omega section is.” Darting your eyes anywhere but at the strain of Toji’s sinful compression shirt sneaking winking at you underneath his leather jacket, practically painted onto the ridges of his washboard abs. “Thinkin’ of a secondary gender change, Toji?”

“Ah, yeah yeah-” He’s rolling those hooded eyes, leaning in so pointedly close that you can practically feel his slow, seeping look up and down. “-got tired of havin’ cute lil’ omegas falling all over f’me.”

You scramble to finally stand, “You wish.”

The bout of husky snickers that escape from him make your thighs squeeze together, and Toji’s promptly following you to place back all those fallen lotions. “‘Course I do. That n’ the brat is out on a trip with his lil’ pink-haired friend, m’just killing time.” Tilting his head at you, “You? Thinking of going for alpha? Or…” Crossing his big, beefy forearms, and he must know the effect that has on you and your greedily ogling eyes. “-an alph-”

“Just this.” You’re cutting him off before Toji could fray at your sanity even more, holding up that heat-inducing serum your mother had mentioned. 

But, oh.

Oh.

That wasn’t the expression you’d expected on the handsome face of Toji Fushiguro. Maybe something more smug, perhaps even amused as he realized your little predicament- but never this.

Eyes stony, sharp jaw clenching with a jumpy little tick. And Toji’s fingers are so thick when they pluck the box cleanly off your hands, the split-second graze of his burning skin making you feel almost feverish.

“This trash? Yer takin-” He’s glaring down at the serum as if it had offended him personally five times over. Something about the utter look of discontent makes your chest burn, “-this trash?”

You find yourself defensive, “N-no. At least, not yet. What about it-”

“Because s’gonna ruin your inner workings that’s what.” And for all the world, you never expected to be getting lectured by Toji Fushiguro of all people on your health - though, one look at his sculptured body should have told you all you need to know about just how seriously he takes it. “Don’t even know why s’on the market. S’not good for ya, mama.”

And you knew that. Probably. But ah, the things you do when you’re at your ropes end. “And? I’ve never had a single heat my whole life, y’know?”

“And I should know, bratty doll.” Toji murmurs, throwing that oh-so-famed miracle serum haphazardly back onto the shelf and flipping off the manager who glares at him. “Haven’t had a single rut in years, not since Megumi’s- anyways, all these inducers here are full of shit.”

“Oh.”

Wrapping a staggering arm around your waist to guide you, your body practically burns. Weird. “Tch- silly girl.”

Two peas in a pod.

Before you know it, you’re being dragged by a disgruntled Toji away from the treacherous clutches of the Heats and Ruts aisle and past the cashier - who only smiles as you so-very-subtly sneak in a long whiff of the air. 

Again. Nothing. 

With the stinging pang of disappointment, you sigh as you step outside. Only for Toji to rub your back with a hum, “S’alright. You’ll be alright, sugar- you’re my strong girl, huh?” Eyes widening at just how…sweet Toji was being. That is, before he opens his mouth once more- “Besides. Who needs inducers when you’ve got such a big strong alpha-”

“Pass.”

“Don’ act like ya don’t like it, little miss neighbor. I see how ya look at me.”

“I- I don’t-” You did. And you do. And you will - in fact, you were looking at him that way right now as Toji swings over one thick thigh to straddle the padded leather seat of his prized Harley Davidson. Looking like he’d just stepped out from your wettest of dreams and it makes you almost simper out a sigh.

He’s jutting his head back at the tempting extra space behind him, and you could already hear the suggestion oozing into his next words. “Mhm— whatever ya say, girl. Now stop just standing there looking pretty n’ get over here, I’m a busy man.”

It’s almost as if on auto-pilot when you do.

Toji Fushiguro’s motorbike was big, and just as intimidating as he was. And it’s only on shaky legs that you manage to press yourself only mere precarious inches away from his hulking form. “Heh, ‘er name’s Harley. Fitting for a bike, huh?”

“If- if you crash I’ll kill you.” You’re puffing out a few thickly muffled words through the sleek matching black helmet he was deftly putting on you. Wondering just what led you to be…here of all places. 

“Yes ma’am, I’ll help ya hide the body.”

“M’serious- no funny business.”

“Uh huh, anything else, mistress?”

“And I’ve seen you run red lights so no-”

SMACK!

Your heart stutters with a loud ba-dump! as Toji’s rounded, calloused fingertips leave a good smack against the side of your thigh to get your yammering mouth to halt. And he’s letting off a titter at the shocked expression of your face even through the tinted helmet before turning to rest his hands on the handlebars. 

“Hold on tight.”

It’s all the warning you get - and, honestly speaking, you don’t think any sort of warning could’ve prepared you for the way that Toji rides. 

Something about it is so attractive. 

Maybe it was the creaking stretch of leather as his biceps strained against it from underneath, maybe the way your ears ring with his words even louder than the growl of the bike, maybe it was the way that you were holding him.

Arms stretching to connect over Toji’s broad front, your skin mushes against the curvaceous mounds of his toned pecs. Firm and warm. So, so warm that you can’t help the way that your eager self was mindlessly inching ever-so-slightly closer-

“Phew.” Startling - but not moving away - at the low whistle that Toji blows out, eyes still trained weaving through traffic. “Dangerous game yer playin’, omega.”

Sidling even closer, the defined angles of his back muscles only flexed at the innocent smooch of your tits. “What?”

“S’fucking close.” And not just to him, but to his scent glands. So sensitive and prickling the shaggy black hair at the base of Toji’s neck just from your heated proximity. Huh, strange. “S’a damn good thing I ah- don’t get my ruts, huh?”

And, suddenly, you’re despising what these helmets hide from you. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t get my heats, huh?”

The exact same words playing over and over in your minds once Toji’s braking to a stop at his designated spot right outside your apartment building. And part of you almost feels upset that this little ride with him was over. 

Letting him do as he pleases when he’s seating around gruffly to take off both your helmets himself, you couldn’t help but notice that something about the air seemed…thick. Like it had just been dipped in candy and right now you were gladly suffocating in the sugary sweetness. 

Your eyes catch onto a lock of deep black that’d curled behind Toji’s ear - and you knew right then and there that something was wrong, you knew that you weren’t thinking. That you weren’t listening to your common sense. 

Because before you can stop yourself - before you can even register it - you’re swiping away the stray tuft, sensory curves of your fingertips just catching onto the skin above where Toji’s smooth glands should be.

“Fuh-fuck-” He’s hissing, willowy eyes curtaining behind a scrunch of his lids, and it’s almost as if on instinct that his thick digits fly upwards to trap your hands right there. “Hold on- just a little, mama-” Pressing down even tighter, and the way that Toji’s letting his head tumble back makes your mouth lacquer with a syrupy wave of drool. “-s-so you said you haven’t had a heat in years-”

“Ever.”

“-ever, huh?” Dewy whirlpools of his eyes examine you, and suddenly you feel like running away. But Toji only grins, “Say, why don’tcha scent me?”

Your maw falls slack with a hot shudder, and you’re not sure if it’s in shock or if it’s from how much you wanted it. To have an alpha offering himself on a silver platter - let alone Toji. Letting out an eloquent, “Wh-what?”

You’re being reeled in even closer with a tug of Toji’s strengthened hands, plummeting onto his chest with a cushioned oof–! He only repeats, breathing bated like he didn’t want to know anything himself until you did. “Scent me, pretty girl.”

“I-I don’t know why-” Your fingers unlatch, and you swear it makes Toji’s chest rumble with a low whimper. Steadily planting them onto the collar of his overpriced jacket to pull. “But if this is your idea of a- oh.”

Shit.

Shit.

And something…is different. There. 

Was- was this how he smelled? This heady concoction of jasmine and something so undeniably…Toji? 

Something snaking and boiling bubbles up throughout your body, you all but slump yourself into his eagerly awaiting arms. You can’t even register what you’re doing, nuzzling into his tender throat. Can’t even recognize the look on your face when you’re gasping in greedy heavals of what was obviously his scent.

That you could smell.

With a gasp, you’re pulling away, eyes diverting to him and- oh, it was much the same for him.

There was no other explanation for the lecherous look of devastation on Toji’s pretty features right about now. 

Scarred lips parting in awe, weighty lids drooping down until those heart-eyes him were almost invisible, face veiled with a delicate flush. His palms find their way to rest on the dip of your hips and stay there.

You’re croaking out, “T-Toji-”

It happens so fast - too fast. 

It’s as if your mere voice was enough to send a zillion volts of electricity shattering down Toji’s spine, jolting him with something darkly visceral. Enough to snap up one tannish forearm and bite-

“Ngh-” Toji’s pearly canines coat with a slight tinge of red, eyes shuttering open - and you notice that they seem slightly less glassy now. Slightly. “-fuck ya really are dangerous, doll. Was almost g’na have me take you right here right now.” The slight dip of his strawberry-pink tongue as Toji pulls away makes you gulp, “N’ I don’ wanna spend my first rut in years here.”

.

.

.

Toji couldn’t think - he couldn’t breathe. And if he was any lesser man he’d have fallen to his knees with only one whiff of your candyland smell. 

Addictive. 

Fingers clutched tightly underneath the plush of your thighs to carry you all the way in through your cozy apartment. Never faltering. Never slowing. You could almost roll your eyes at the blatant reminder of strength if you didn’t feel so feverish.

Toji’s steely eyes light up at the way your trembly fingers clutch the silken hem of your skirt, lips wobbling with every spilling word. “T-Tooooji, feels so hot.”

“S’that so?” He’s swiping the regal button of his nose down where the sides of your neck were swollen, breathing in the hot, sugary waves emanating from your skin. “Feel anything else?”

And the slight hitch of your breath is all that he needs as an answer, well, that and the goopy wetness that was formulating between your thighs. Shit, he never thinks he’s kicked down a door off its hinges harder than he has to your poor bedroom door. 

Draping you gently onto the plethora of silken sheets, you whine at the slight recoiling bounce.

Barely even given the time to gather your wits before Toji’s sliding his jacket and his t-shirt teasingly off, all thick, muscled limbs stalking towards you like a predator that’d just cornered his favorite prey. And you eye his rippling back, his rumbling tone speaking over your mattress’ creaks. 

“Ya better know…” he’s hurling out, mouth just only centimeters away from yours. Hot. “-m’not here ta fuckin’ play around jus’ cause you’re in heat, sugar.”

Ah, that’s what it was - heat. You were in heat. Fuck. 

Your fingers leave neatly indented semi-circles on his flesh when Toji’s grasping your throat tightly, padded ends of his fingers pressurizing right onto the treasure trove of your scent glands. “If I fuck you now, you will be mine. You and…” Before one largely crowned kneecap of his sidles into the snug cove of your pussymound. Weighing down- “...her.”

It’s the only thing you could do to bat your lashes up at him in a way that makes Toji’s achy cockhead twitch. “I want you…wan’ you to touch me, Toji–”

And that’s all that he ever wanted. 

Roughened hands shove you meanly back onto the cushy bed, and Toji’s sliding his palms languidly down, down, down every curve and dip on your body. As if he was trying to worship you with them. 

“Oh? Only wan’ me to touch ya?” Toji’s humming, Adam’s apple bobbing with wads of salivation once his fingers slink down to curl at your bra strap and snap! “Not to take this off or-” You gasp, the sting almost making you forget those minute rips! echoing from where he was grasping your t-shirt. “-this? Guess I can do whatever I please then, right?”

Before you can say a word of shrill protest, those useless pieces of fabric are tattered off. Ending up not-so-nicely in a pile right beside your bed with Toji’s intact clothes. 

“H-hey!” You whine, “Those were ah- limited edition-”

“Ah, I’ll buy ya five more of those.” Toji rolls his eyes when your lips part open, “What? Thought I wasn’t filthy rich or somethin’- Oh, girl, you are about to be spoiled. But first, a kiss-” Innocent and sweet onto your lips, “-here. And…”

Toji huffs out a few cocky sniggers at his own little joke, because of course he does. Leaving you off with a gentle swat! to the perfect curve of your hip and your heartbeat throbbing at your drooling cunt. 

He’s shuffling onto his very knees at the bottom of the bed, tutting at how unfairly far you were from his greedy mouth - well, that had to be fixed. You almost get whiplash from how swiftly you’re being dragged to let your jittery legs be thrown right near his tightly coiled deltoids. “-here.”

Head bobbing in an urgent yes yes yes when Toji rids you of your flimsy skirt and slowly slides down your drenched panties. All bunched up and leaving a glimmering coating of slick down your skin.

Stuffing it into his pants pocket, “This is a lil’ reward f’me.”

“Filthy.”

“Oh, well helloooo there, pretty girl.” He’s drawling, eyes flashing with such darkness at the heavenly mess of a banquet all laid out in front of him. “You’re so in heat- so fuckin’ in heat. See? Who needs fuckin’ inducers when ya have me.”

Toji’s pupils were swallowing up his verdant orbs. Needy. And he’s unashamed in taking a long deep inhale of your saturated pheromones. His favorite perfume now. “Lookin’ real happy ta see me. Happy s’your hah- first heat, hm?”

You’re squirming, fingers tangling into his silken tresses in an attempt to try and shove his face closer. “Are- are you talking to-”

“Hush now, doll.” Toji leaves a wet pap! of his fingers thwacking against the treacly slit of your pussy, watery with your flooding slick and greedy. “Lemme talk to ‘er- lemme talk this cute cunt through her first heat. M’honored, y’know?”

And honored just doesn’t begin to cover it.

Toji was devoted.

It’s like your wafting clouds of heady scent made his mind dizzy, until the only thing he could do was to let his slutty tongue loll out and sliiide at the splatters of translucent sap soiling your inner thighs.

“Oh- fuck-” You’re squirming your hips in a wild buck upwards, only to have him pin you down with the heavy-handed weight of his forearm. “-feels so- so…”

“Yeah? Good? Ya always get this wet or s’that jus’ f’me?”

Truly, you could only jumble out a few nonsensical syllables. Because Toji didn’t want to waste a single ounce of your precious juices, slurring out a few open-mouthed kisses across every inch of skin you’d exposed to him. And the moment that rosy peak of his tongue touches upon your teary pussy- oh.

He thinks he might just be the one about to cry.

Because you didn’t just smell like his favorite candied lollipops - you tasted like it, too. And, fuck, he can’t help but go in for seconds. Thirds.  

Guffawing out breathily with disbelief, he’s drawling his tongue to mush open the gummy folds of your pussy. Swirling out a lazy flick of his sopping muscle to stretch out the tight ring of your wide agape-

“Just look at ‘er all hngh- overflowing.” You watch with bated breath when Toji’s prying your quivering entrance with a bullying few inches of a singular thick index - only one, but Toji was so incredibly towering with his size and strength that you find yourself keening. Coral pink lips puckering up to give your hooded clit a squelching kiss. “Heh…like a damn waterpark, aren’t ya?”

Filthy words only making you filthier. Making your omega inside blink up and yearn.

Your gushing wads of juices bawling from between your legs in torrent. And you yelp at the lecherous sounds that echo out - the waterlogged squelches and slurring that only makes Toji grin. Wild and sly. “Mhm, real talkative.”

Arching your back into the perfect slutty curvature off of the prespired sheets, “Tojiii- s-stop teasing n’ give me- ngh- more.”

More. 

And just then you feel him fuck his softened digits into you slow and thorough. Curling up to swipe down the mushy soft spots of your walls - Toji was burning up. But you were burning up even more, and shit.

Shit. shit shit shit-

You don’t know if it’s because of your heat, or if it’s because Toji is just that good with that rude mouth of his - but you’re cumming faster than the thought could even flash across your melty mind. “Wait- m’close ngh- Toji- I’m gonna-”

It’s like a tidal wave of bliss peaked up further and further with every slashing motion of Toji’s gyrating make out with your cunt. You’re so very extra sensitive right now and he makes use of it - bumping up that rounded angle of his nose to press your fleshy clit just right. 

It’s so intoxicating. So heady that he finds himself pushing back those sweat-dampened bangs of his to lower down loooong breath. And then finally another passionate French kiss onto your bulging pussy. 

“Fuck- I-” Pearlescent droplets of tears welling up at the scrunched corners of your eyes. “M’so- sensitive–”

God, his wolfish canines were sharp nipping teasingly into the fat pucker of your pussy lips. Parting your slick-gleaming mound to squeeze his tongue into your tight hole, the stretch is incredible. It’s staggering. And Toji can only sully your insides with a gentle brush of his lengthy tongue along your gooey insides before pulling back with a huff. 

And then again- to let out a throat groan when your elastic walls push with resistance. And again. And again and again-

“Now m’offended.” Toji’s letting out a surly swat! where you’re trickling down viscous fluids of sickly sweet slick that coat his mountainous knuckles, his wrist, the raised trailways of his veins. “Wanted more but tha’s all ya can take- tch.” 

Oh, by the time your white-hot tingles of pleasure were bating you should’ve known better than to think that Toji Fushiguro was done manhandling you with his superhuman strength to every whim and want of his. 

That he would give you even a second of a warning before hovering over your frame and flipping you into such a pliable position over him.

His back hitting the puff of the pillows, strands of hair making a dark halo underneath him. Toji looks so fucking handsome that you can feel your pussymound slobber a few streaky puddles of slick onto his heaving abs. 

Hands positioned on either side of his leering head, you mewl. “Give me a warning first, you animal-”

“Hell yeah.” He’s snarking up at you, but there’s not a single speck of heat behind his words other than towards you. Towards what he wanted to do to you. Planting a heavy smack! on your ass, “Tha’s right you’ve got me in a rut after years like a fuckin’- animal. Heh, so jus’ lemme throw my pretty omega ‘round a lil’, I can feel how wet that gets ya.”

“N-noo- it doesn’t-” But that was a fucking lie and both of you knew it, knew it from the syrupy pool of sap laminating his heated skin. 

“See? She’s on my side. Doesn’t talk back.” The curvaceous pads of his fingers twiddle and tease your plumpened clit, so dirtily that it only makes your dripping cunt drool even further. Leaving a gauzy cobweb of treacly slick with every swat! swat! swat! he gifts. “Has anyone ever had her seated on a mouth, sugar? Made you feel good that way?”

Your head shakes before the thought has even contorted itself into an understandable shape. “No- no one has- ngh- before.”

It’s a confession, it’s a line plucked right from Toji’s filthiest thoughts on those late, late nights.

And he couldn’t look happier when molding you to the exact shape and angle that he wants you in. Turning you right around to bare your sodden pussy from the back, your unbalanced thighs curling on either side of his ravenous head. 

Not even a single command, yet your head is swimming with honey at just how much you were like putty underneath his hands. 

Your head cranes over the plane of your shoulder to give him a pretty plea. “Toji?”

“Mhmmm, Toji’s right here, pretty girl.” He’s awestruck - stunned with the gumdropping droplets of sap plopping down onto his tongue and sliding right down his throat. Making him groan, “Filthy fuckin’ pussy, can feel ya ngh- dripping allll down my tongue.”

And he’s drunk. He’s babbling, he’s heaving and heaving to inch his intoxicated maw to connect with your saturatedly glossy pussy lips. “Lower her down so I can give her lil’ smooch.”

Your hands nimble down along the tufted black happy trail brushing from between his navel and going down, down, down. “L-like this?”

“Nah, more. Can’t believe all those pathetic boys never had ya hah- sitting on their faces. Spread those pretty legs n’ lemme show you-” You can’t even begin to think about merely hovering your entire deadweight above him, because Toji was ready. And he was hauling you to rest every single mass of your flesh onto him, “-how a real man fucks.”

Thickly viscous helpings of your generous slick flood his mouth the second that Toji’s lengthy tongue is burrowing between your folds and driving you mad. 

Sliding all the way up and down up and down up and down with a welcoming flit at your buttoned clit and then pumping you overwhelmingly full. Fucking you with the overheated scratch of his tastebuds exactly the way that he wanted to with his achy cock right now.

“Can still taste m’self on ya- haaah- good.”

Toji wasn’t holding back.

“O-oh my god, m’so sensitive.” Your moans come out mangled. Wanton. Spilling from between your parted lips right along with rivulets upon rivulets of waterfalling saliva every single time that Toji’s bumping the curvaceous search of his tongue into your earliest sweet spots. “Slow down, Toji–”

Your fists maze through the velveteen blankets and clench, hips jerking up-

“Nuh uh, doll, no runnin’ away from your Toji.” Sliding up one slick-glazed hand to snake the small of your back, he’s using his face to nudge your legs even further. Drowning your sobbing cunt with a fat wad of spittle, Toji’s licking down the stray speckles that gravitate back onto his own mouth. So dirty that it makes him delirious, nose crinkling, bottom lip bitten. “Yeahhh, crack ‘em open even wider. She’s eager.”

Eager you were.

Jostling your hips against his mouth until through your clouded mind you were wondering whether he would suffocate. But little did you know that this might just be Toji’s ideal death - buried right there between your pretty legs. 

You’re being bounced so hard that you can feel your legs aching with the strain, hollowing out shuddered breaths and whines of Toji, Toji—

“Say my name.” He’s huffing, easing in a thick few inches of his fat digits that fill up the snug geysering orifices. Each n’ every single volume of space that’s inside you, and those puckered pecks leave screeching squelches that have you halfway through sobbing. “Say my name- say my name heh, g-gonna have a looot of ngh- noise complaints after this.”

Even though he’s saying this, he doesn’t do anything to deter you. Why the hell would he?

Pumping you full of one finger, two, three until your gummy ring of muscle was being molded to the plump circumference of his lengths. Multi-tasking. 

All the way until he was slathering the patterned bumps of his knuckles with a sticky second skin of slick, Toji curls those rounded tips down the tenderized walls of your channel and drags. Feeling for that one special target of his-

“G’na make ya feel s-so good.” He’s whispering, breathing like it was the truest of true words. And shit- he hasn’t felt like this for ages now - years. Secondary gender growling from his inner depths with guttural need to give you more more more. “Gonna find- ah- found it.”

And Toji knows he found it with the way you squeal. Wafting scent intensifying, lashes fluttering with a clinging swash of tears once he jerks a good push into that bulging bullseye that makes you see stars.

“Right there- Toji– right there-”

“S’fucking loud.” He’s rolling his eyes for what seems like the nth time today, but it was impossible not to when you were just so cute being teased like this. Bubbling out a few sloshes of slick and spit when your fingers dip right underneath his trousers and push. “O-oh? Trynna keep yer mouth full, huh? Let’s see ya try then.”

Your low lip juts out into a pathetic sort of pout that Toji finds adorable, that only makes his clothed cock pool out a darkening patch of precum onto his boxers. 

“Wan’ taste you- make you feel good.” Your words are warbly and broken, tone hitching upwards with every tiny slip of his sticky underwear downwards. It’s like you were teasing him - teasing yourself. And your inner omega was oh-so-very impatient. “Wanna make you feel…oh.”

“Heh, cat really got yer tongue now, huh?”

And you couldn’t even retort, you couldn’t even snap back as you usually might have because you were stunned. 

Maw falling slack at the generous girth that was throbbing fatly between your fingers, honestly from this lecherous angle it seemed like a struggle to even close your fist around him. Because Toji was…big - and even saying that was an understatement. 

Just about nine throbbing inches with hefty breeder balls that your bleary gaze could make out, flushed a candied pink on the rounded curve of his mushroom tip. Graduating down, down, down into a pale baby rose - you didn’t know whether it was the heat talking but right now he just looked like your favorite sort of lolly.

“L-look so pretty, Toji.” You babble away, words getting breathier and breathier as sloppy as his kisses get. Your puckered lips are almost stinging with just how thorough he was. “Wanna taste…”

Oh, and you didn’t realize that one perk of having your secondary gender presented was realizing the shift in his pheromones. 

You didn’t know how you knew but there was a tinge of utter adoration in Toji’s jasmine-infused scent as you plop down a wet mass of slippery saliva right onto his strawberry divot. Lathering the split, plummy globe before planting your mouth down and kissing.

Your mushy tastebuds looping little motions over the creamy butter-topped cap of his splurging cock, he tastes so heady. Rich pre melting on your tongue and it was so musky, so…him. 

“Oh, girl-” he’s breathing out through a rasping sigh. Darkened brows marrying together at just how warm your mouth was sheathing around his painfully hard shaft, “That’s it- thaaaat’s it. Suck on my cock like a good girl, mama—”

“Ngh-” Your jaw aches, throat jumping at the squeezing sensation of his lustrously crowned tip tunneling right down. Craning your head so that he could count every bounce, “S-sho bwigh.”

You were so heavenly, alternating to leave shy little snogs over and under his sensitive slit - and Toji was one competitive man. It was in his nature, of course. 

Tumbling your hips to rest even greater onto his mouth, he didn’t need to breathe. Didn’t even want to even dream of it when he had the circles of his fingerpads latched on your jiggling ass so hard it was sure to leave battered bruises for the next week and weeks and weeks.

“Damn, she’s good, huh?” Toji’s whispering at the sopping wet purse of your lips, “But I can’t have myself  c-cum before- fuuuck- my girl.” 

Your eyes were sprinting all the way to the back of your heavy lids with ever swaying lash of his mean mouth. And it didn’t matter just how vulgarly you were sliding your starved tongue down the heated ridges and veins of his swollen cock - Toji was doing ten times worse. 

Every deepening inch you swallowed up into your cavernous mouth only made him plug you fuller. Every stray swipe of the thick, ivory beads of his pre made Toji douse out lumping masses of saliva lewdly. And every twitch that made you sure Toji was right on course to tumbling over the edge was urging him to push you headfirst into your orgasm with a final teasing pinch at your clit. 

And your mouth opens with an accusing gasp - did he just…pinch your clit? But all thoughts of his audacity and the fact that Toji was chuckling out right after washed away as soon as your high was flooding you.

Moans being muffled around his generously fat shaft, the only thing that you get is just a single wispy wire of condensed cum being lacquered onto your tongue. Just one. Right before Toji’s free hand splays out onto your scalp and pulls you free with a wet pwah!

“Tha’s it-” You hear him mutter in the blinding cloud of your orgasm, it felt so blissful that some darkly primal part of you said that you were never letting him go after this. He was yours. Your mate. “-louder. Louder– good fuckin’ girl cummin’ all over my mouth.”

Toji didn’t know how the hell was multitasking with your pussy kindly spraying him with a sheeny covering of all your remnant juices. But for you? Anything.

Anything anything anything and he was whispering the very same mantra into the quavering, slick-flooded entrance of yours. Letting your hips drag sloppy grinds to ride out every edge of your peak - to use him in a way that no other alpha might just.

Toji’s strokes up into your tightly-clasped fist were deep, and he doesn’t stop even when your eyesight stops tinging with black. Not even when your back arches with oversensitivity, waterfalls of tears producing from your ducts. Sobbing, “I-I’m- ngh- Toooji- I can’t anymore-”

“Sure, ya can–” Looking you right into your thoroughly half-lidded eyes as he nods along with the slurring symphony that he was orchestrating from between your overworked legs. “-she says ya- ngh- can.”

Toji wanted to taste you again. Needed it.

“But-” And, yet, he finds his ear perking up at the wobbly sound of your voice, blushing bludgeoning tip creaming out another thick mess of white. “-but I wan’ my next- ah- next orgasm around your cock, Toji–” 

And, well, how could he say no to that?

Toji thinks he could never say no to anything you ask ever again with the way you were positioned precariously on top of him and still begging. 

He’s saying goodbye to your pretty pussy with a slow peck as a lover would. Breathing in heavily - oh, how he loved the smell of you. “M’gonna see ya later, m’kay? Don’t miss me too much.” 

And another gifted spank! to your tenderized ass makes you jerk a few inches off of his sugary mouth. Sweet, sweet praises being pecked up the bending arch of your spine when he sits you down all cutely on his lap.

You’re heaving out a huff, scent glands throbbing with a spike of something slightly salty. Jealousy. “M’startin’ ta think you’re playing ngh- favorites.”

“Well, duh.” He’s fluttering his long, bestowed lashes with an eyeroll, barely even flinching before cupping your slobbering pussy with one large palm. Teasing, “I’ve got yeeears ta make up for.”

Years of desperation and need pouring and pouring out when Toji folds you easily onto all fours.

And that’s when you’re getting a thorough striking of exactly three times that Toji’s sappy crownhead jolts upwards with a few gummy kisses hello up and down the crying middle of your pussy lips. Smooching. Gently. Before he’s snuggling right beside your hole-

With you bent over and arched right how he wanted you - oh, he was so enjoying the view. Saturated bursts of cloudy pheromones hitting your feverish body and only making the fountains of translucent slick increase tenfold. 

Shit, you were so wet that Toji has to force himself to let one greedy hand go from its favorite job trapping you underneath him. 

Guiding a few dexterous digits to wrap around the bulkily bloated cylinder of his base, he takes his time slipping and sliding.

“Might wanna hold yer breath, mama, h-heh…” You’re squirming your hips deeper into those pronounced hip bones of his despite the fact that simply breathing won’t help you take on his monstrous size. But you wanted to. You needed to. “Gotta c-count- ngh- eeeevery inch like a good girl now, m’kay?”

And that’s exactly what he made you do. 

“Oh!” Saltily flavored globules of your tears had your lips wetted, blubbering unconsciously when Toji anchors the hills of his palm onto the ends of your spine and pushes. “Shit- Toooji, why the hell are you s-so big-”

“Now that doesn’t sound like a ngh- ‘one’ ta me…”  But of course, who was Toji if it wasn’t for a little bit of teasing. Just enough to get your lips pouting cutely and your gluey walls clinging around him as if afraid he would pull away. Adorable. “Now now, c’mon- don’t tell me the biiig stretch has made ya forget how to ah- count, mama.”

So easy to rile up, to get you shaking your head so fervently that you swear you could feel your melty mind tumbling about like a bobble head. “N-no. I can count.”

“Then, say it w’me-” And oh, you knew that tone. That feral tone of his that would never ever bode well for you or your needily dripping pussy. Toji’s inching his hips back mere sinful inches, drawling out all the while. “-oooone.”

He doesn’t even ease you in.

Hitting your spraying cunt with the full force of his mushroom-topped head pushing past the adhesive-like resistance of your flooding entrance. Pushing and pushing and pushing- “One.”

Toji’s hands are clammy - depraved - when they pry your bouncing ass ever-so-slightly to really take in the sight of your gobbling pussy. Because he had no shame. He had no fucking shyness letting out a proud puff of pheromones that make your boneless knees weak.

“There there.” He’s patting that curve of your hip he loved so much - birthing hips, the thought strikes him. Shocked at just how much deeper that drowns him into his heady rut. “My good omega. Now…two.”

“T-two-” You’re sobbing out.

“Hmmm, nah- no stutterin’.”

Oh?

And, honestly, Toji half-expected your omega in heat to snarl at him a little, to let your hugging channel scoop up a hefty few dollops of milky pre right before he’s reeling the familiar pathway forwards again.

But, oh shit, he didn’t expect for you to bare your teeth like a fucking threat. For one hand of yours to dart behind with surprising accuracy and curl around his shaggy haircut, dragging Toji to pump you full. And it wasn’t just one inch. Not two. Not even three - you were damn near yearningly jackhammered with about halfway down his fuming red shaft before he finally got his cottony brain together. “Two.” 

“Damn, greedy girl–” Toji praises, though it comes out as more of a rasping growl that sends voltaged shivers down your spine. “Comin’ back for more, already? Knew my dick was hah- heat- alright then-” And the bed rings out with a few symphonied creaks when he shuffles his muscular thighs wider. Steadier. “-but ya better still fuckin’ count.”

Four. five. Six.

More and more - seven and eight. 

Up until Toji’s puffy head smudges a wet wipe at the canvas of your cervix. You were so soft there that he obviously has to greet the melty depths of your pussy with a good spurting of ribbony pre, swabbing around those drenched springs with a lazy circle of his hips.

“Eight.” Your jaw spills a surging slew of profanities at the feeling of him spearheading you so open, face pushing into the soft mattress when you perk your hips up and push. Only to gasp at there being- more? “Wait- I want-”

“Down, girl.” Toji’s sweat-shimmered biceps flex when he shoves your too-eager body back. “Gotta get you to at least cum on m’cock again before I give ya my- fuuuuck- knot.” 

And Toji fucks you like he’d going to make you remember.

He knows he’s going to make you remember - it’s why he has that big, dopey smirk smearing wider and wider across his face with every fat thud! into the rubbery bounds of your pussy. You’re taking him like you’re made for it, and that only makes his heart stutter even louder than your protesting wooden bedframe.

“Doll, m’gonna ahh- break this damn bed.” He’s uttering out, never ever sounding prouder of himself than right now. “And you.”

“Cocky.”

“Whatever, girl- talk t’me when ya haven’t gotten- hah-” Managing out through blissful hiccups of his breath, “-heart-eyes after bein’ hngh- fucked dumb by me, ‘kay?”

You’re not sure if you’ve heard that correctly - but luckily for you, Toji Fushiguro is allll about keeping his girl in the loop.

All about prancing his rough hands to entrap your wrists and pull you with barely even a wisp of his true strength. Beaded dewdrops of sweat perspiring up and down the heavily toned muscles of his back like their very own personal rollercoaster.

With you right along for the ride with the way that his rightly angled rotund tip romantically scours and scours for your magical g-spot. Jerking you up in midair to snap his slender hips with a particularly vicious pap!

The sensation of skin-on-skin makes your head dizzy, and your core overpour with another sudden downpour of treacling juices. But what was even blasphemously worse was the way that precious geyser embedded into the treasure trove of your walls were pummelled. 

Over and over.

“There- right there–” you’re sounding out as if you were a broken record. Every resonating moan of yours accompanied hand-in-hand with the loudest splish-splosh of sputtering juices. Secondary gender working overtime now to make Toji cum. To make him give you his knot- “-wan’ you to c-cum right there.”

“Where?” Toji’s deepening his angle to bump a heavy-handed slam pounded into your cervix. “Here?” At your vehement shakes - honestly, he wondered if you even knew he was taunting you at this point. “Then…” Only to give your peaked clit a mushy squeeze, “-here?”

You’re almost crying at this point, bursts of heat fluctuating between your goopy depths and your swollen scent glands. Full and ready. And it’s a sight so pretty that Toji can feel his stomach twisting already. “N-noooo.”

He almost loses it once your shakier, smaller hands take the lead to guide one of his own all across your thighs where he loved. Your cunt, where he loved just a bit more. And to about halfway along your pretty tummy to press- “Wan’ you to f-fill me up riiight here.”

And Toji only growls, “Riiight there, huh?”

Pinpointing his puffed-up divot to smudgeon repeated heavy collisions into the latched wall of your womb. Once. Twice. Before thrashing your permeated walls with hosing flushes of his cum. Of such thick ribbony wads - and it’s so fucking dense that you feel your hips weigh down.

Or perhaps that was because of your own orgasm the- third of the night?

Just about all you can manage out, syllables falling from your lips slower than you’re being hammered through the faintish spurts of your high. “C-umming–”

Before you know it, you have one of his muscular forearms around your throat in headlock, bulging Toji’s rounded biceps hard and possessively at the bumpy area of your glands.

“Cummin’ again?” Toji snarls against your ear, nails clawing at your hip to keep them under his control. “Yeah- yeahhh tha’s right. Milk your dear Toji, t-take this fucking cock. Take my…”

And Toji was about to overstuff your awaiting hole with the fat circular ring that’d swollen around his base, to finally give you his knot the way he’d been dreaming of ever since you waved at him on the day he moved into this fucking building. 

But just one sneaking glance at the ivory lipstain your puffy pussy was wearing, the way the ends of your sopping slit drown with a swamping drip drip drip of his lustrous cum makes Toji go a little…crazy. 

Makes the bulgingly tender crook of your neck look so, so tempting. 

His glassed-over eyes lock downwards, breath hitching at the way he slowly sinks back out and in has your pussymound mewling out such a cute glomp! His second-favorite girl - after you, of course - was speaking back to him. Lathers of splashing cum painting his bulky heft with a ring of frosted seed. 

Oh.

Toji would never get tired of this. How the fuck hadn’t he had a rut in years again?

And he says only one word, “More.”

“M-more?” Your fingers experimentally nudge at the tautly coiled pressure at your stomach and find yourself slobbering - from both drizzling lips. Even with the dredges of pouring cum, you were still so full you felt that you could burst. “Can it even fit?”

Right now he thinks the hazy fog covering his brain would never stop - and he doesn’t want it to. Waves of pheromones wafting off of him in such high concentrations that you find your mouth flooding with saliva all over again.

Cobwebs of it overspilling down onto the veined muscles of his forearm - only increasing in saturation when he tilts your head up in the perfect 90 degree curvature to face his boring gaze. And his mean mouth.

Spitting right onto the tainted bullseye of your tongue, streamy rivers flowing back into your mouth when he firmly nudges it shut. “If yer droolin’ n’ can still t-take ngh– that,” Branding the thorough push of his circled circumference into your cervix like he was branding the swollen indentation there permanently. “-then ya can take allll of haaah- this, okay, mama?”

Shit, was Toji glad that both your concoctions of pheromones kept him still hard. And he’d heard of ruts that lasted a week - two, uncommonly. The longest ever recorded was twenty days and by god was he going to gain the title of world champion.

Even if it meant he had to lift you cleanly off of the now-broken bed, the exact same one that you were only now noticing. Just barely so. 

You’re gasping, fingers digging into Toji’s smooth skin when two arms wrap around your middle and jostle you over a few coiling bedsprings that’d started to stick out from one sagging end of the mattress. Being pushed to bend over in such a complaint position at the end of your cool mahogany desk. 

You’re dipped deep, but his battering rams were impossibly deeper.

And the zig-zagging probe of his veins were massaging you just right, thrusts determined and practiced now that Toji had every scouring inch of your pretty pussy drilled into his mind.

“Th-three’s the ah-” Toji’s chest rumbles with a sensitized shiver once he hikes up a strong leg, caging you with him and his ruthless cock and him. Letting you gape at the documents rustling and flying about, “-charm. Or was it four? Ngh- f-five? Six?”

Just how long did he intend to mess up your insides? 

Though, you really, really aren’t complaining at the way that every merciless dab of Toji’s sharp hips into your fleshy mounds fuck you stupid. Entire body burning up - all the way from his lolling, sweat-stucken head in the crook of your neck, to the splurging torrents of streamy sap coating you.

And then there was that stinging plap! of his tightened knot behind you-

“C-can I have your knot now, Toji—?” 

Shit, his hips stutter their sloppy staccato, did you even know what you were asking for?

You never knew that heats came with such a side of begging, but right now you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Or to complain. Because Toji liked it, earning your pillowy walls with extra thorough hits. 

“Impatient girl.” He’s raising a hand to give two messy spanks on your bulging pussymound, deep snickers hitting your ear in condensed pants at the way it only makes you filthier. “Real diiiirty, too. mmm, wonder if she’d ngh- m-make an even bigger ngh- mess if I…”

And at this point, you were hanging onto every word falling from his kiss-bitten lips. A side-effect of just how good he was fucking you into the digging edges of your clattering desk right now. “What- ngh- what? P-please-”

“Ohhh, know yer m-manners, huh?” Full body wracking at the oodles of slicked sheens frothing down the plump curve of his globed balls and making them clench. Dangerously so. “S-since ya asked so fuckin’ nicely, I’ll let you ngh- know, sugar.” 

Nothing could have prepared you for the way that Toji moistens his parched mouth with a few sultry licks of his lips as if preparing to share his deepest, darkest secret.

Nothing could have prepared you for the notched up burst of his jasmine perfume that makes your legs resemble weak jelly, and Toji’s support yours until they were hovering almost midair. 

Because he was craning his head down to nip at your scent glands, with a sudden snicker. Crazed. A few octaves higher. Like he doesn’t even realize it’s tumbling out before sighing, “-wonder if she’d make an even bigger mess once I get ya…pregnant, mama.”

And oh you think you’re cumming - hot spurts of bliss tackling you by surprise. Fuck, and if you thought that the last orgasm had taken a lot out of your Toji then you’re sluttily glad to find out that that was not the case.

The complete opposite, in fact.

You’re sure that Toji cums even more this time, sunken divot into the elastic material of your walls welling up with the creamy helpings of his bloated cock. So much seed spilling out of him that you wondered whether this was the rut or just him.

Just his urge to fuck you full until you were pathetically overspiling, until had had you in a hold so tight that you think you could almost feel Toji’s delicious crownhead fuck his cum into you until it reached your lungs. 

For what feels like rounds upon rounds until your saliva had amassed in a forevermore pool underneath you. You didn’t know what time it was. How long it had been- 

Only feeling the firm glissade of Toji’s washboard abs against your back. The way his thighs shivered and jerked at every one of your gripping clenches. And despite being so fucked, you were already drooling at the heavenly cushy push and pull of his Adonis-like pecs heaving in throaty gasps. 

So unfairly sexy that it made your primal instincts preen. Mate.

And, apparently, Toji was thinking much the same. 

“F-fuuuck-” He’s letting his mouth nuzzle the side of your throat with all the tenderness that he wasn’t bestowing upon your sappy cunt. “Think about i-it- you all ngh- round and glowing n’- rooound–“ Rambling and rambling at the wet splashes inside you of his stuffing, “You’d make the prettiest momma.”

As if to prove his point, a gentle hand greets the inflationary outline that was slowly forming its way at your tummy. Made by yours truly - Toji. 

“I…” And he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars. And his sanity right along with it somewhere up there. “-want that. Oh, I- hngh! want that-”

Words barely out of your mouth before Toji’s hand slams down - he had to keep himself together. He needed to. But that grating desk clearly wasn’t the place, because you flinch when one straining leg snaps!

And Toji’s alpha instincts are flaring up in an instant, wrestling you to the ground right - pulling out for only a nanosecond to flip you onto your prespired back, pretty legs strewn sloppily over his shoulder, even prettier face gazing up at him - beside the wreckage. One that you’d only find it in yourself to worry about much, much later. 

Definitely not when he’s patting the curve of your pussy with a softened thwack! Murmuring, “Then..g-gonna hafta- hngh- take it.”

And if you didn’t know any better, then you’d have sworn that the smug Toji Fushiguro’s voice cracked as soon as he was settling for drawing a languid heart pattern around the velvety perimeter of your entrance. Before thumbing his way inside-

“Hck!” Your lip wobbles with oversensitivity, nails clawing red, red lines of raw need across the faintly bubblegum pink flush of his body. “S-Soooo much–”

And, yet, you couldn’t get enough. 

You watch with a bitten lip with a fat goblet of sweat drips from Toji’s angular jaw and slithers between his pecs to disappear down below. More - you wanted to fucking ruin him.

The desperation of your heat plummeting in heady wavelengths all around you and making the room smell like a candy heaven.

One that you were very much lost in with the unforgiving stretch of Toji pawing his way to working your sprinkling cunt doubly open. Fingers pumping in quick, methodical half-fucks in the same way that his persistant hips were doing.

Every single recoil against your fleshy cervix causes you both to keen at the wet slosh of his mounds of seed piling up inside you from all the endless rounds before. 

Again. And again. And again and again until it feels like countless hours upon hours. 

“Ohhhh- w-ait-” Toji stammers out, attractively sharp jaw falling and wrenching shut a few repeated times. And then his hips slow down. “Think s’gonna- ngh- ohhhh yeah, gotta take this kn-knot okay? Like my goood girl, okay?”

You’re filled with countless inches of a staggering girth that you didn’t even know was possible. Because while alphas were big…Toji was extra big. 

Extra rounded in his sizable knot, rested upon thickly globular balls that still held such voluminous amounts of cum. Pounding open your eager cunt further and- further-

“I-is it in?” You’re shrilling out, syllables slurring and stumbling together with the incredible stretch being made evident from down below. Fuck, your nails create more painted patterns. You didn’t even want to look - you couldn’t afford to cum again just from the sight. 

“J-just ngh- one more inch. Scratch me, ruin me- anythin’. But m’gonna make it f-fit.”

And Toji only hooks in another one of his thumbs, this time swiping the fat pad of a few stray fingers down your buxom clit. “Count w’me, doll-” For his sanity more than anything. Neck straining with a few popping vessels of blood that swell, face reddening with such a maidenly fucking blush as he looks downwards. “-ooone more-”

“-inch.” You finish off, not expecting that exact moment to be when Toji snaps. His patience. You, full of that achingly hot knot that’d been just begging for you to take him the very moment you waltzed up to him with that sweetened saccharine scent. 

His favorite now.

Gulping in cavernous quotas of it the moment Toji’s inflated knot pops and he sinks his sharpened canines into your scent glands with a whimper-

Hard enough to taste your honey-glazed pheromones, to draw blood. To be permanent - just as he’d needed it. 

Hard enough to make him cum all over again at the feeling of your own teeth making their pretty mark on him. Shit, he didn’t even know if it was fucking possible for his overworked cock anymore. But he sure wasn’t fucking complaining at the delicate splat splat splat of milky cum hitting the back of your pussy. 

Already filled to the brim and spilling with every loving grind that Toji was boring down upon you. The only thing that he could manage when you two were connected so…tightly this way.

“Cute.” Toji manages to run his fingers over the proprietorial set of indentations set in his flesh, eyes still laminated dewily with an euphoric sort of stunned awe. “F-fated mates really have some good ngh- bed chem, huh?”

Fated mates. You could only smile and scent that overwhelmingly addictive jasmine scent of his. Taking in a long, deep breath as he held you. Tight. 

Yeah, jasmine. 

But jasmine was Toji Fushiguro’s.

And you’d be damned if Toji Fushiguro ever let you off that easily.

The smile you’re given is feral, predatory teeth glimmering in the dim lighting and making the neat circle of marks at your neck throb. And something about that told you this was far, far from over. 

You could only hope that your floor didn’t suffer the same fate as your bed, and your desk…and your fluttering cunt.  

After all, you both did have years to make up for. 

“Now the only haaah- way to really test our bed chem is to see whether we can make Megs a big brother.”

A/N. Thinking about making an omegaverse installment for every JJK man- what do you think babygirls?

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[nanamiscocksleeve]

I saw this tiktok video a looong time ago with these two women firefighters who have toned bodies and it got me thinking of a scenario with the l&ds boys.

Imagine MC/Reader fighting some wanderes or working out at the Hunters training center and Tara or some civilian noticed just how well tone she is and decide to make a post or video about her. Now MC/Reader is know as the "Hot Hunter"

I would love to see the boys reaction to MC/Reader new found attention and all the horny comments she is getting.

Hot Hunter

Warnings: mild boner descriptions, some grinding and twerking, suggestive dialogue, mostly harmless A/n: Thank you so much for sending this in @deputy-videogamer! It was fun imagining the men's reactions to this scenario. Hope you enjoy this! Just an FYI this was combined with another similar request for Zayne getting hard at the gym for MC. Not really proofread.

You carefully set up your camera and peeked at the screen one last time before picking up a pair of weights off the rack. Although working out was mostly necessary because of your job, it was more bearable now that you had a buddy.

You glance over at Zayne, who's flexing his shoulders, having finished a set on the chin-up bar. He catches your eye, his lips forming a subtle smile before he grabs the bar and lifts himself up again. You allow yourself a brief moment of indulgence, admiring how the fabric scrunches over his broad shoulders before returning to your own workout.

You're live now and already have viewers coming in. Tara insisted that posting hunter workouts was a great way to get audience engagement since many people are focusing on their health nowadays. You demonstrated some basic exercises and how to position the weights, correcting your form as you did so.

Sweat forms on your forehead as you go through the motions, your toned muscles tightening under the skin as you curl and relax. After a few sets, you decide squats are in order. You replace the dumbells and instead, pick up a heavier kettlebell. Turning so that your audience could clearly see your form and how you were adjusting your feet, you bend, feeling your thigh muscles stretch, and your ass tensing as you went down before slowly coming back up. Suddenly there’s a surge in the audience, the numbers rising up and the phone starts to ping continuously as comments flood the live stream. 

Wondering what could have happened, you’re about to get up but are spared as out of nowhere, Zayne suddenly snatches up your phone. His sharp eyes scan the screen, and there’s tension in the set of his mouth as he reads the comments.

“Zayne?” You ask from the floor, still squatting. He makes his way over to you. 

“Is there a reason you’re recording your workout?” Zayne asks, his eyes still moving over the screen. 

“Oh Tara suggested it. We get a lot of questions about our work out routine since we’re hunters. Why?”

“Well…it appears you may have gotten some…raunchy comments.” 

“What? No way!” Your eyes widen. “What are they saying?”

Zayne’s eyes flick uncertainly to your face before he clears his throat. “Well. Most of them seem to have a fruit.”

“A fruit?”

“A peach, to be precise.” A snort of laughter forces its way from your body. 

“Are you serious? There’s no way!” Zayne resignedly shows you the comments and indeed, every other one seemed to be the peach emoji.

“That hunter ass.” You’re amused as you read another one. “Hunter got the buns and the bakery. Look at that cake. Hunter workouts: the key to having a juicy peach.” The comments keep pouring in, and Zayne’s eyes darken as they get progressively thirstier. One in particular, coming from an anonymous commenter, said, “you can squat on my face miss hunter.” With a huff, Zayne ends the livestream. 

“Hey!” You protest as he pockets the device. “It was starting to get good.”

“I see. So lewd compliments about your rear are ‘good’.” Zayne’s eyes have a glint in them, and sulking, you stand, all motivation for your workout disappearing like rain. 

“I don’t see why those comments had to be so inappropriate.” Zayne bites out as he crosses his arms disprovingly. 

“It’s the internet.” You grumble as you start to put the weights back on the rack. “Who’s polite on the internet?” You back up and bump into a sturdy wall of muscle. Before you can register what’s happening, Zayne’s deep voice growls in your ear. 

“Have I not complimented you enough? Why are you looking for validation from strangers?” Caged between the rack and his body, you squirm, your ass inadvertently brushing against the junction of his thighs. Instantly, you feel him hardening, the warm, firmness of his cock pushing up invitingly against your bottom. 

“Well Dr. Zayne, it looks like you were saving your best compliment for last,” you tease and innocently reach down to pick up a lighter weight, your bottom rubbing provocatively against his erection as you bend over and straighten. You stifle a giggle as Zayne spins you around, biting your lip and looking at him with mischievous eyes. Zayne's hands tighten on your hips.

“This ‘cake’ belongs exclusively to me. We’ve worked out enough. I need to raise my sugar levels."

Rafayel didn’t like working out. He made this very obvious as he grumbled during your daily jog. It’s been 10 minutes and his cheeks are red, locks of his hair out of place, and plastered to his forehead with sweat. His breath comes in pants as he tries to keep up with you. 

“For being my bodyguard, you seem to always find new ways to kill me!” You look back over your shoulder and see him starting to slow down. Taking pity on him, you run in place and allow him to catch up. When he does, Rafayel moans and leans against a tree. “Are we done yet? This is torture!” 

You check your phone and try not to laugh at his state. “This is hardly anything Raf. We still have 2 miles to go.”

“2 miles?!” Rafayel crosses his arms and shakes his head no. “I refuse to believe it. You’re just saying that to trick me into running more than what was promised!”

Rolling your eyes but still amused, you playfully poke his ribs. “I’m really not. C’mon it’s a beautiful day out! We’re getting all this fresh air and enjoying all the greenery-”

“Fresh and green is for bunnies! I’m exhausted. Just let me rest ok?” He drinks from his water bottle and you wait patiently for him, stretching as he does so. Two men who had been sprinting briskly around the path when you had started now slow down as they near. They glance appreciatively at you, grinning at Rafayel. 

“You can run this round with us if you want. Let your friend rest.” One of them says sportingly, glancing at Rafayel’s disheveled state. Rafayel bristles at the implication. 

“Hey! I was just catching my breath!”

“Of course you were!” The other man interjects quickly, trying to quell Rafayel’s ire. “You just looked like you could use the break. She looks like she has a lot of energy! Could run this whole trail before either of us make it to the halfway mark.”

Noticing the ominous shadow starting to grow on his face, you laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Thanks. But I’m taking a break too. This was probably going to be my last mile.”

“Really?” The first man looks surprised. “With the way you were going, I thought you were going for at least 2 more. Are you a marathoner?”

You shake your head politely. “Hunter.”

“Oh! No wonder!” Both men smile dazzlingly. “Obviously hunters have to stay in good shape!”

“We do,” you say lightly, pretending to ignore Rafayel glowering behind you. “It’s a very physically demanding job.”

“Yeah,” Rafayel pipes up suddenly. “And she has very little time to herself. So we have to get going if it’s not too much trouble.”

Understanding the hint, the men nod at Rafayel. “Well enjoy your weekend then! Feel free to join us if you change your mind.” They run off and Rafayel glares at them. 

“Feel free to join us,” he says in a mocking tone as he watches them sprint away. “We’re never coming back to this park again.”

“Oh Rafayel, they were just being friendly.” You start to power walk and Rafayel follows suit. 

“No they weren’t! Didn’t you hear them? Let your friend rest. You look like you have a lot of energy! They were totally hitting on you!” You snort at his tone because he sounded so adorable right now.

“There’s nothing funny about strange men trying to hit on my girl. You’re already thinking of leaving me aren’t you?” Rafayel pouts, and you stop in your tracks before you fall over laughing. Cupping his sulky face between your hands, you quickly peck him on the lips, catching him off guard, because he’s blushing when you move away.

“I’d never leave you Raf. My breathless little fishball.”

“You can’t just insult me to my face and think it’s all ok!”

“Oh, so many people stitched my workout videos!” You’re lazing on Sylus’s lap as he works out the knots in your shoulders from your most recent sparring session. You wince as he squeezes a tender spot. 

“Ouch.”

“Ouch? What happened to no pain no gain?” Sylus teases you. 

“It doesn’t always have to hurt.” You absently open a random stitch notification and watch as a burly, muscled, man talks into the camera while holding a plank. 

“Ok Miss Hunter! You said you can plank for 10 minutes no sweat! I’m gonna beat that record!” The man on the screen balances himself and the timer on the video starts. The sound of his heavy breathing fills the room and Sylus raises an eyebrow. 

“Sweetie, you know you can tell me if you’re watching adult videos right?” You pinch his thigh, satisfied when he twitches.

“No need to get defensive.” His hands wander to your lower back and he continues to massage you. You watch the video intently. The man who had stitched your video was already starting to lose balance; his forearms were quivering from the effort. The timer continues counting, but right at the eight-minute mark the man groans and breaks position. He laughs and winks at the camera. 

“Maybe you should give me a private lesson Miss Hunter!” he says jokingly before the video ends. The comments section is filled with comedic jabs at the man, saying he better last longer than that in other aspects.

“Pathetic,” Sylus murmurs and you startle, unaware that he had been looking at your phone. 

“It’s hard to plank Sylus.” You say discipliningly. “It took me 6 whole months before I could hold for 10 minutes.” 

Sylus doesn’t reply but his hands still as you open another stitch. A man giving off jock vibes fills the screen. “Ok! Miss Hunter said she could complete this whole circuit in 12 minutes! I’ve set up my workspace exactly the same way. If I beat her time, then I’ll ask her out to dinner! Wish me luck guys!” You watch in amusement as the guy starts his workout, puffing and grunting as he does so. 

He was behind 2 phases when the timer rang and he stopped, flopping to the floor. “Whoo! This kicked my ass! Looks like I didn’t beat her time. But hey, maybe Miss Hunter will take pity on me and ask me out herself?”

Your notifications ping suddenly and you check them, surprised to see Sylus’s name popping up several times. “What are you doing?” You open one of your workout videos, then stifle a laugh as you see the replies Sylus has been giving to the commenters.

“You’re too fine to be working out alone.” Sylus: “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got me right there to spot her.”

“Are you a fitness trainer? Because you’ve got me wanting to follow your every move.”Sylus: “She’s not taking clients, but I’m sure a good mirror could help you with that ‘following her every move’ thing.”

“You’re perfect. The body, the confidence, the vibes—everything!”Sylus: “As her boyfriend, I agree!” 

You’re way too beautiful to be single.”Sylus: “Good observation. She’s not.”

Exasperated but also entertained, you straddle Sylus’s lap, nuzzling into him like a cat. “Is the big, bad leader of Onychinus jealous of some strangers on the internet?”

“Not at all kitten. But I think it’s fair to warn them that my gains aren’t always necessarily in the gym.”

Tara holds her phone up as she captures you demonstrating how to effectively use a punching. You perform some basic karate moves, the slaps of your hands and feet kicking the bag filling the gym at the Hunter’s Association. 

“Wow! These comments are so nice!” Tara encourages you as you wipe sweat from your brow. 

“Are they?”

“Yeah! This one lady is saying you’re inspiring her to workout again! Another one says your arms look so sleek and toned! AND!” Tara practically squeals with delight. “This one guy is asking if you do personal training sessions!”

Tara giggles and winks at you. “Maybe you should quit your job and become a fitness instructor instead!” As she continues to film you, more comments flood the inbox, some questions, others compliments. 

“This is the hot hunter I was telling you about! And he’s tagging his friend!” Tara can barely control her enthusiasm. You’re trending everywhere are #hothunter!”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Out of nowhere, Xavier steps in leaning over Tara’s shoulder to watch the screen. His eyes darken at the comments.

“Xavier!” Tara quickly puts the phone away, looking shocked. “I wasn’t expecting you to turn up.”

“Who’s calling her a hot hunter?” Xavier repeats. His tone is light but you can see the beginnings of a threatening spirit starting to take hold of him. 

“No one! Just…some random person on the internet, it’s nothing serious! I mean, as her boyfriend, you have nothing to worry about!” Tara rambles, clearly sensing the ominous cloud hanging over Xavier’s head. Xavier reaches out to angle the phone and reads the influx of new comments. Tara glances over at you awkwardly, unable to break free from Xavier’s grip. 

After a long moment, Xavier releases the phone and then walks over to the punching bag you’d been demonstrating on. More pings resonate from the phone as more comments come on the screen. “Don’t stop now,” Xavier prompts Tara who looks apprehensive. “Please. Tell me what they’re saying.”

You look at Xavier tentatively and reach out to hold his hand. “Xavier. It’s just people on the internet posting comments. Everyone hopes for engagement nowadays right?”

Xavier doesn’t reply and continues to fix Tara with a stern look. Swallowing, she reads a few comments. “Who’s the guy that just walked in? He’s hot.” She glances nervously at Xavier. 

“Continue.”

“Is the new guy a hunter? Is he the hot hunter’s boyfriend? Is Mr. Hunter going to show us some workout moves too?”

“Hmm.” Xavier considers, then looks directly into the camera. “Greetings everyone. To answer your questions, yes, I’m a hunter too. I’m the hot hunter’s mission partner and boyfriend.” Your cheeks heat up and you push Xavier, trying to get him to cool off.

“I do have a move I’d like to show everyone watching.” Xavier continues to speak, unfazed by your subtle gestures for him to stop. He catches your hand and gently leads you away from the punching bag. He withdraws his hunter’s sword from its sheath, and it gleams under the lights as he does so. 

“Hunters are trained to disarm threats as quickly as possible. Advanced weapons like my sword here are very effective.” Swiftly, Xavier raises his arm, and in one neat swipe, cleaves the punching bag into 2. Stuffing falls like cottony blood from the tear. Xavier brandishes his sword at the phone.

“That’s what happens when I try to protect my girlfriend. Pretty cool huh?” There’s a smile on Xavier’s face that’s charming, yet somehow menacing at the same time. For a brief second, the comments section goes silent. Then it starts bursting with fresh words.

“I want him as a boyfriend! So possessive I love it! Can Mr. Hunter possibly make more videos with the hot hunter?” You read them in your head and sigh.

“Well Xavier, you’ll probably be trending this week as #mrhunter.” You let out a startled gasp as Xavier firmly grips your upper arm and leads you away from the gym. 

“Good. The fewer eyes on you the better.”

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @erebus-et-eigengrau @who-mentioned-rhys-larsen

[someonegoood]

I’m not a kid! pt. 2 ✫ jeon jungkook

in which you’ve always had a hopeless crush on your brother’s best friend, Jungkook, who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t feel the same—until a family vacation forces buried emotions to the surface.

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! idolverse, age gap, arguments, jungkook is an ass with reader, +18, making out, smut, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, explicit language…

NOTE: here’s part 2!! hope you like it!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

minors, please do not interact!

part 1, part 2.

my masterlist!

The dining table stretched out in the middle of the open-concept villa, a long, wooden piece covered with platters of food your moms had spent the day preparing, drinks being poured.

You were aware of the man sitting across from you. Jungkook. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his tattooed arm as he sipped from his glass. He wasn’t saying much, but he didn’t have to. His presence was magnetic. Every move he made drew your attention, no matter how much you tried to focus on your plate.

Your mom was talking about you now, her voice brimming with pride.

“My daughter has been working so hard these past few months in her comeback,” she said, smiling as she looked down the table at you. “I don’t know how she does it. She barely sleeps!”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hating how everyone’s attention shifted to you.

“She’s always been like that,” your brother chimed in, grinning. “Remember when she stayed up all night practicing for that school play? She was so nervous she forgot her lines.”

The table erupted into laughter, but you felt your cheeks burn. You glanced at Jungkook, expecting him to join in, but his expression was unreadable. He was leaning back in his chair, one hand curled around his drink as his eyes were fixed in you.

“She’s always been determined,” Jungkook said suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise. It wasn’t a compliment exactly—more of a detached observation—but the way he said it made your heart stutter.

“Yeah, determined to prove she’s not a kid,” your brother teased, nudging your arm.

“I’m not a kid,” you muttered, but it was drowned out by another wave of laughter.

You forced a tight smile, trying to play along, but the heat in your chest wouldn’t go away. When you glanced at Jungkook again he was taking another sip of his drink, now his eyes looking at the sky.

Halfway through dinner, you accidentally knocked your knife off the table. It clattered to the floor, and before you could reach for it, Jungkook leaned forward, his voice sharp.

“Careful,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The comment was casual, but there was an edge to it that made your stomach twist.

“I can manage,” you replied, grabbing the knife yourself. Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Your brother, completely oblivious, just laughed again. “She’s always been clumsy, too.”

Jungkook didn’t laugh. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his plate, and the tension between you grew thicker.

As the night wore on, you tried to lose yourself in the chatter around the table, but it was impossible to ignore him. The way he looked at you—brief, fleeting glances that felt like they burned—kept pulling you under.

By the time dessert was served, you were exhausted. Not from the conversation, but from trying to act like his presence didn’t affect you. And when you finally excused yourself to the kitchen, you swore you felt his eyes follow you as you left.

The soft glow of the kitchen light greeted you as you stepped inside, seeking refuge from the buzz of the dining room. You reached for a glass of water, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Couldn’t take the noise anymore?” a warm voice asked behind you.

You turned to see Mrs. Jeon standing at the doorway, her kind smile immediately softening your nerves. She was carrying an empty platter, her movements unhurried as she crossed the room to place it on the counter.

“Yeah,” you admitted, setting your glass down. “Needed a little breather.”

She chuckled, opening a cabinet to grab some storage containers. “I don’t blame you. That dining table can get a little overwhelming, especially with all the teasing going on.”

You gave her a small smile, nodding. “It’s like they’re never going to let me forget I’m the youngest.”

She glanced at you knowingly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “That’s because we all adore you. Even if they have a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

You leaned against the counter, watching as she began packing up some of the leftover food. It was comforting—being here with her, away from the tension that lingered with Jungkook at the table.

She smiled, her gaze flicking to you. There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her tone softer this time. “You and Jungkook… you used to be so close when you were kids. He used to talk about you all the time.”

Her words caught you off guard, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “He did?”

She nodded, her smile tinged with nostalgia. “Oh, yes. He used to come home and tell me all about the adventures you two would have with your brother. He always said you were fearless—always trying to prove yourself.”

You let out a quiet laugh, staring down at your hands. “I guess I was just trying to keep up with them.”

“Even now, I can see how much he cares about you.”

You froze at her words, your chest tightening. “I don’t think that’s true,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She set down the container she was holding and turned to face you fully, her expression soft but serious. “Trust me, I know my son. He’s not always the best at showing how he feels, but it’s there.”

You looked at her, unsure of how to respond. The knot in your chest only grew tighter, and you fought the urge to spill everything—to tell her how hopelessly you’d fallen for him, how his mixed signals were tearing you apart.

But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a small smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re a good girl. And I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with your career, but don’t let the little things pass you by, okay? Sometimes the things we think we can’t have are just waiting for us to take a chance.”

You stood there for a moment, her words replaying in your mind. And as much as you wanted to believe her, the memory of Jungkook’s distant gaze at dinner told a different story.

The next morning the sun was high, shimmering over the gentle waves and warming the soft stretch of sand. You stood at the edge of the villa’s terrace, adjusting the straps of your pink bikini, the light breeze brushing against your skin as you took a deep breath.

When Jungkook stepped onto the patio heading to the beach, his footsteps faltered. For a moment, he froze. His gaze landed on you, his eyes taking in the vibrant color of your bikini that hugged your frame, your beautiful curves, in a way that felt unfairly distracting.

You caught his gaze, and his dark eyes quickly flicked up to yours, as though caught red-handed. His jaw tightened, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“You coming or not?” your brother called from down the path, completely unaware of the sudden tension hanging between you and Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jungkook muttered, tearing his gaze away and following after him. But as you trailed behind, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. Noticing how some of the guys at the beach—strangers sprawled across towels and tossing a frisbee—let their eyes linger on you just a little too long made his stomach twist.

The feeling was foreign, uninvited. He hated it.

By the time you reached the beach and found a spot to settle, Jungkook had barely spoken a word to you, though his eyes betrayed him every time you moved. As you pulled out a bottle of sunscreen and started rubbing it into your arms, he tried to focus on anything else—the waves, the sky, the sound of seagulls—but the sight of you struggling to reach your back was impossible to ignore.

“Need help?”

You looked up, startled by his sudden voice. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

“Oh,” you said, hesitant. “Sure. If you don’t mind.”

He positioned himself behind you, his hands steady as he took the bottle from you and squeezed a small amount into his palm. The first touch of his hands against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried your best to hide it.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his fingers gliding over your shoulder blades and down the curve of your back. He tried to keep his movements clinical, detached, but the softness of your skin under his touch and the scent of the sunscreen—mixed with whatever perfume you were wearing—was messing with his head.

“All done,” he said quickly, pulling his hands away as if they’d been burned.

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing at him over your shoulder. He was already looking away, his jaw set tight.

A few minutes later, you waded into the water, the cool waves lapping at your legs. Jungkook followed, his hair pushed back by the wind as he tried not to look at you too much. But when you laughed—light and carefree, splashing water at him—he couldn’t help it.

“Is this payback for all those summers I beat you at volleyball?” he teased, smirking as he splashed you back.

You rolled your eyes, the sun catching in your damp hair as you moved closer. “You didn’t beat me. You cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

“You totally did,” you said, laughing again. The sound was like a melody he couldn’t ignore.

The two of you were close now, the waves brushing against your waists. His smile faded slightly as he looked at you, the playfulness in his expression giving way to something softer, something heavier.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Your laughter faded as you looked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. His gaze dropped to your lips for just a moment, and your heart leapt into your throat.

He took a step closer, his hand brushing yours under the water. The air between you felt electric, charged with everything unspoken.

But before either of you could close the distance, a voice shattered the moment.

“Hey! You two good out here?” You jumped, spinning around to see Minho standing on the shore, waving at you both.

“We’re fine!” you called back, your voice a little too loud, your cheeks burning.

Jungkook cleared his throat, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “I-I should probably head back,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, your heart still racing as he turned and waded back toward the shore, leaving the moment—and whatever it could have been—behind.

“I’m telling you, we should go for a darker concept this time,” Yunjin said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Something intense and powerful. No one’s expecting it.”

The night was quiet, save for the distant crash of waves against the shore. You were tucked away in your room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with your phone in your hands. The screen glowed with the faces of your members—Nari, Mimi, Yunjin, and Sky—who were all chatting animatedly about your group’s upcoming comeback.

“Darker? That could work, but we need to make sure it fits the choreography,” Nari said, her expression thoughtful.

You leaned back against the headboard, a soft smile tugging at your lips you play with the edge of your oversized white t-shirt with Hello Kitty's face. The conversation was exactly what you needed after a long day—something normal to ground you. But as the topic shifted away from the comeback, you felt the air shift, like they were plotting something.

“So…” Sky began, dragging out the word with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What’s going on in the villa? Did you fuck?”

“Sky! Oh my god…” You shouted while your cheeks were turning redder. The mention of a situation involving his body and touch made your stomach flip.

“Don’t act clueless,” Mimi teased. “You probably have fucked him ten times by now.”

“That’s my queen!” Yunjin chimed in, laughing.

“There’s nothing, no fucking,” you muttered, but your voice lacked conviction.

“Liar!” Nari laughed. “Come on, spill. What’s the deal?”

You sighed, finally giving in. “Fine. Something happened today.” Their eyes lit up, and you immediately regretted opening your mouth.

You told them everything: the way Jungkook had helped you with sunscreen at the beach, the near-kiss in the water, and how he’d gotten jealous over the way other guys were looking at you.

Mimi gasped. “He helped you with sunscreen? That’s practically a love confession.”

“And he was jealous?” Sky added, her grin wide. “Oh, he’s down bad.”

Yunjin leaned closer to the camera, her eyebrows raised. “So, what now? Did you talk to him about it?”

Before you could answer, a faint noise broke through the chatter—a soft scraping sound, like someone fiddling with your doorknob.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hold on,” you whispered, staring at the door.

“Girl are you alright?” Your members asked.

The sound grew louder, more insistent, and then the door handle turned. You grabbed the nearest object—a hairbrush—your grip tightening as the door creaked open.

“Kid?” came a familiar voice, low and annoyed.

“Jungkook?” Your breath hitched as he stepped into the room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.

“Relax,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. “It’s just me.”

“Just you?” you snapped, lowering the hairbrush. “What are you doing barging into my room like that?” You grabbed your phone and turn the video call off.

He ignored your question, his gaze flicking to your phone. “What are you doing? It’s almost midnight, and you’re loud enough to wake the entire villa.”

Heat rushed to your face. You quickly ended the call, ignoring the teasing protests of your members, and turned to face Jungkook. “You could’ve just knocked.”

“I did knock,” he said, crossing his arms. “But you didn’t hear me. So, I let myself in.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to be angry or embarrassed. “Fine. Sorry for keeping you up. You can go now.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he locked the door, his expression shifting into something more serious.

“Jungkook?” you asked, your voice softer now.

He leaned against the door, running a hand through his hair. “At the beach earlier, when those guys were staring at you…” His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It made me so jealous I couldn’t think straight.”

You blinked, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “You… Please, you don’t get to be jealous,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “You’ve been with other girls before, and I respected that. I didn’t say anything. Why should you get to feel jealous when I’ve done nothing wrong?”

His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, the weight of his stare almost too much to bear. “You’re right,” he said after a moment, his voice rough with emotion. “But that doesn’t stop me from feeling it. I can’t stand the idea of anyone else looking at you that way.”

Your heart raced, your chest tightening as his words sank in. “That way?” you whispered.

“Like they can have you,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I’m not allowed to want you, even though I do. So… seeing that guys-”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jungkook…”

“Tell me to leave,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you don’t want this—if you don’t want me—just tell me to leave, and I will.”

But you didn’t. Instead, you took a step closer, your heart pounding as you reached for him. His lips met yours in an instant, the kiss urgent and electric, like a dam breaking after years of restraint.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside the room faded away, leaving only the two of you and the emotions you could no longer deny. When you finally pulled back, your breaths were shallow, your foreheads pressed together.

“This changes everything,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady. “But I don’t care anymore. I just want you.”

And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him. “Jungkook...” Little by little, he brought you both closer to your bed and out of nowhere you were lying between the soft white sheets and him on top of you.

“Jungkook, what? Now you wanna beg?” He grinned, your arms found their way around his neck, legs already wrapping around his waist and pushing him against you. You almost had to chuckle when you felt that he was hard already.

You looked down to your t-shirt, only to realize you had still had your oversized Hello Kitty t-shirt, shit.

“That t-shirt looks good on you. Although one of mine would look even better,” he said, kissing your nose. You punched hin lightly in his chest, laughing softly.

“Mm-uh.” he opened your legs and traced with his hand an imaginary path in your lower stomach.

“Wait… anyone can hear us,” you said, fear in your voice.

“I know baby, but I’m so serious right now,” he pauses and gives you a hungry daring stare. “Dead serious. I won’t let anyone else fuck me if it isn’t you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“One hundred percent.” He smiled. You knew he couldn’t wait much longer, not when he knew what effect he was having on you today. He could feel your wetness before he even came in contact with it.

Jungkook softly pressed his lips against yours. Each kiss grew longer and more intimate than the last, and there was an intense rhythm in the movement of your lips. The sensation of him against you filled your body with excitement.

You ran your hands up his chest and pulled him in close. His hot breath teased you as he left a trail of kisses along your neck. The tingling of him making his mark on you triggered a small moan from your mouth. You took a peek and caught him smirking and admiring the tiny pink spot he left on your skin.

He pulled from his t-shirt and the sight of his bare chest made you blush. Of course you had seen it many times before, but it was the first time in this context. Then you felt him grasp the hem of your shirt, looking at you for confirmation.

“Is this okey, princess?” That was the first time he was calling you like that. Princess. It sounded good. Still blushing, you nodded as he lifted the shirt over your head and tossed it to the edge of the bed. You saw him shift his eyes to your exposed chest, biting his lip to hold in his lust for you.

“You don’t have to be shy, okay?” He spoke in his low and soothing, yet very sensual voice. He tucked your hair behind your ear and entwined his fingers with yours once more.

“Okay,” you smiled back.

He slowly moved his hand down your waist to your inner thigh while licking one of your nipples. Each time he squeezed your thigh, you felt a heated sensation growing between your legs. You squirmed around to kick all lingerie, until you were completely vulnerable to Jungkook’s eyes.

“Fuck… you were prepared?” He asked, wondering why you were not wearing any shorts and a lingerie thong.

“Maybe…” You were not prepared for this situation in particular, but you never know when something can occur. You wanted to kiss your past self for packing this set.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he replied, continuing to slide his hands up your thigh and closer to the sensation where you felt hot and wet. Just before he reached the spot, he paused to give you another warm, delicate kiss. He ripped off your panties in a second.

“Jungkook! They were new!” You said, amused.

“Princess, I’ll take you on a shopping day and buy ten of these,” he said.

As his lips kept you calm, he snuck a light pair of fingers between your legs. His fingers glided up and down with such ease. You arched your back when he brushed against the center of your pleasure. You hadn’t even realized how needy you were for his touch until a loud moan escaped your mouth.

“Jungkook…” You whined desperate for him. You’d been fantasizing for years about what he must feel like and now you were so close to having what you dreamt of.

He put in a bit more pressure and speed as his fingers circled your center over and over again. “You like that, princess?” He asked, while you felt the pleasure building up quickly.

“K-kook…” At the sound of your desperate cry, he slid two fingers inside you and began curling them in and out at a frustratingly slow pace. Immense waves of pleasure consumed your body as he continued to touch your most sensitive areas. “Faster please…”

“Torturing you is like torturing me,” He sighs. “Fucking wet.” You clenched around his fingers as you let out another loud moan, trying to keep yourself from cumming so fast.

“You like that, baby?” He teases you, his face decorated with a proud smirk as his fingers move faster than before. Almost screaming, you felt your orgasm come through while you suppressed your moans with a hand in your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you had very little time to recover though, as Jungkook stood back up, turned you around and pushed you down onto the matress.

Leaving a rough slap against your ass cheek, he pulled himself out of his pants sliding his dick along your folds to collect your cum on him. “Fuck, so wet for me, baby.”

He introduced his tip in your folds, waiting for you to get used to the feeling. “Does that hurt? You’re fine?” He asked you, and you chuckled at his reaction.

“I’m alright here, you can start moving.”

He didn’t take long to start fucking into you at a ruthless speed, hands on your hips, the euphoric expression written on his face turning you on even more. His head fell back as he let out a low moan. He smirked as he landed another firm slap to your ass before he griped you shoulder.

“K-kook they will hea-hear us,” you said in between muffled moans without a doubt in your mind that your moans could be heard throughout the hallway.

Your arm coming up to rest on the bed to help you support yourself. He let go of your shoulder and moved his hand around to your clit, his nimble fingers moving against you in rhythm with his dick.

His throaty moans keep sending electric shocks through your body and within long you can already feel yourself building up to your second orgasm of the day.

“God…. You feel so good,” you moan against his lips, his tongue tracing your lover lip before he gently bites it. He hums in response.

He hums in responds. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he praises you, his hand brushing away a lose strand of hair from your forehead.

Upon hearing his words, your walls clamp down around him and he falters for only a second from the feeling before he picks up the speed slightly.

His hips are slamming against yours, his length ramming in and out of you as your back arched off the bed, your hands grasping whatever they can hold on to.

You were both moaning loudly as his thrusts got sloppier and rougher, the pulsing of your walls pushing him over the edge only seconds after you.

“I’m gonna cum baby! Fuuuuck!” Jungkook groans above you and you can feel as he releases inside you. His pace slows down but he keeps pumping in and out of you until he’s sure you both rode out your orgasm.

Jungkook fell forward, right above you as he slowly and gently kissed down your back, riding out his high.

He eventually pulled himself up and out of you before helping you back up. He situated himself back into his pants as you readjusted oversized t-shirt.

“You did so good for me, kid,” he softly pressed his lips to yours, one hand on your waist as the other caressed your cheek softly.

The first thing you felt in the morning was heat. You were drenched in your own sweat, and the thin sheets that were draped around your body clung tackily to your skin.

As you listened to Jungkook’s steady breaths, you meandered through the events of last night. The weight of his arm slung loosely around your waist was comforting. You chuckled, remembering last night.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook mumbled groggily, his arms tightening around you. You lifted your head, looking up at him.

“Morning.” Your mouth spread into a smile.

“Good morning, kid.” He ruffled your hair lazily, running his finger through the wild strands.

The peaceful atmosphere didn’t last long. A shrill knock on the door shattered the stillness, making you both freeze.

“Shit,” Jungkook whispered, instantly alert. He sat up, his bare chest gleaming in the morning light. “Who the hell is that?”

You didn’t have time to answer before the knock came again, louder and more insistent. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, tugging on a pair of shorts over your underwear.

“Jungkook, you can’t be here. They’ll kill us if they find out.”

He shot you a quick glare, already pulling on his discarded shirt. “I know, okay? I’m trying to figure out how to sneak out without a parade waiting for me outside.” He stated, annoyed.

The sound of the door handle turning made your heart stop. You grabbed the nearest object—a hairbrush—and held it like a weapon, ready to face whoever dared to intrude.

The door creaked open, revealing your mom and Jungkook’s.

Her eyes widened as they darted between you and Jungkook, who was awkwardly trying to zip his jeans while hiding behind the door.

“Wha-what’s going on here?”

Before you could think of an excuse, Jungkook’s mom appeared behind yours, looking equally suspicious. Both moms stared at each other for a long, loaded moment. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they exchanged a knowing look and stepped back.

“Take the back stairs,” Jungkook’s mom said, her voice calm but stern. “No one’s awake yet.”

You and Jungkook nodded fervently, like children caught stealing cookies. As Jungkook slipped out the back, you exchanged a glance with your mom.

“Don’t think I’m letting this slide,” she warned, but there was an unusual softness in her eyes.

And with that, she turned on her heel and left, leaving you with nothing but the lingering embarrassment—and a lingering warmth from the night before.

Since that day, you hadn’t seen Jungkook.

The morning after that unforgettable night, he had slipped out quietly, leaving behind a soft kiss on your forehead. He promised to see you before the end of your vacation, but the last day came, and Jungkook was gone. His sudden departure was blamed on a last-minute dance practice he had to attend, and while he responded to the one message you sent him, his replies were distant and curt.

you

kook have you arrived yet? read, 18:34

kook? read, 20:40

Days turned into weeks, and the excitement of what had happened between you two began to feel like a distant memory, replaced by lingering questions. Was it a one-time thing for him? Had you misread his intentions?

Months later, an unexpected invitation arrived: two front-row tickets to BTS’s concert in your city. It was addressed to your family, sent with love from Jungkook’s mother, and you weren’t sure if it was his idea or hers. Either way, the thought of seeing him again made your heart race.

The night of the concert, your family and you arrived early with backstage passes. Walking through the bustling corridors filled with staff and crew, you felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. It wasn’t long before you spotted Jungkook’s mother, her kind smile instantly putting you at ease.

“Darling” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. “It’s been too long.”

You returned her embrace, feeling a flood of nostalgia. “It has. How have you been?”

“I’m well. But you… you look lovely,” she said, stepping back to examine you. Her gaze softened as she added, “You and Jungkook remind me so much of me and his father when we were young.”

Your breath hitched at her words. “Really?”

She nodded, her expression wistful. “The way he talks about you, the way he looks at you… It’s the same way my husband looked at me when we first fell in love.”

The mention of love made your chest tighten. “Well, he’s been distant lately,” you admitted, unable to hide the sadness in your voice, “you know… since the incident, yeah.”

She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Give him time, he’s being dumb now. If it’s meant to be, it will work out.”

Before you could respond, a loud commotion signaled the arrival of BTS. The members spilled into the room, their energy infectious as they greeted your family with enthusiasm.

“Look who’s here!” Taehyung called out, grinning as he pulled you into a quick hug. “It’s good to see you again!”

The others followed suit, each greeting you warmly. They joked, teased, and chatted as if you were part of their family, making you feel at ease despite the tension simmering beneath your calm exterior.

And then, he walked in.

Jungkook appeared in the doorway, dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized white BTS t-shirt that hung effortlessly on his frame. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he looked better than you remembered.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He greeted your family with polite smiles before his gaze found yours.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone low but firm.

You nodded, following him as he led you to his dressing room. The door closed with a soft click, and the silence was heavy.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” you blurted out, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “I called, I texted, and you barely responded. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry. Things got… complicated. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Complicated?” you repeated, your voice rising. “All you had to do was talk to me. Instead, you left me wondering if I meant anything to you at all.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. Finally, he stepped closer. “You mean everything to me and that’s the problem. I’ve never felt this way before, and it scared me. I thought pushing you away would make it easier, but it didn’t. It made it worse. And your brother he…”

You blinked, his confession catching you off guard. “Kook, you let me have the talk with my brother. We’ll figure it out.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’m sorry for being an idiot. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. If you’ll have me.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. “You’re really bad at this, you know?” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He laughed softly, relief washing over his face. “Yeah, I am. But I’ll do better. I promise.”

You nodded, letting him pull you into his arms. The tension melted away as he held you close, his warmth grounding you in the moment.

“I have to go,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “But I’ll be looking for you in the crowd.”

And he did.

From your spot in the front row, you watched as Jungkook lit up the stage, his energy and passion unmatched. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker to you, and in those fleeting moments, it felt like the world belonged to just the two of you.

[kurooku]

nanami kento, very serious looking guy working in the finance department, having a little crush for the new girl who just got hired by the creative team.

you didn’t even know him, not until the christmas dinner party at the office. you were fairly new, only been working there for four months. working for a big company had not always been your goal, but when you got offered the position freshly out of college you couldn’t say no. it was well paid, in the city center, and allowed you to put your degree to use - which was a big plus, since finding a good job lately seemed to be stressful for people with an art degree (or so you were told by basically everybody).

when you first saw him, your heart skipped a bit. he looked insanely good, with his white shirt hugging a toned chest and short blonde hair falling slightly on his forehead. he was talking with your creative project manager, big hands gesturing softly while speaking and a light smile on his face. it was the first time you ever laid eyes on this beautiful man, and as soon as you realized you were staring a bit too hard, he had already made eye contact. eyebrows slightly furrowed, his eyes met yours. before you even knew, you were walking up to him.

“hi” you said, breathily. you felt your hands sweat and damned yourself mentally for behaving like a girl seeing a cute boy for the first time. up close, you realized he must have been a little older. not too much but the confidence he exuded was clearly not the one of someone in his early twenties - nothing like a guy your age. your manager looked around, confused on why you were intruding in their conversation, and eventually asked “hi, y/n. did you need something?”

you blushed immediately, looking away from the beautiful man, realizing there was no good reason to justify your sudden intrusion. you just saw a good looking man and walked up to him as if nothing else was going on. “oh…” your mouth slightly open, your mind racing to find something appropriate to say.

“i think we have not been introduced yet.” his voice was deep and you felt it in your stomach, like music at a concert. your eyes darted up to the unknown man, nodding shyly. “right. my name is nanami kento, pleased to meet you.”

you felt your insides melt while shaking his big hand, mumbling your name and smiling softly. five seconds later, you pretended like someone was calling your name from somewhere where your other colleagues were and excused yourself, quickly leaving just like you did arriving.

watching you walk away, nanami let out a soft smile, hoping the man in front of him was not going to pay much mind to it. “oh, don’t worry about y/n. she’s young, and new. she’s still trying to find her way around here, you know?” your project manager laughed awkwardly, still wondering what was all that about. kento shrugged, watching you from afar. your cheeks were red and the grip on the glass you had in your hands looked incredibly stiff.

what neither you or your protect manager knew was that nanami kento did know who you were. he had noticed you, maybe on your first or second day, when you got lost and popped up in the finance department. your colorful sweater and laptop full of stickers looked very out of place and when one of his colleagues approached you, letting you know that maybe you had walked in the wrong office, you did turn another color from embarrassment and started profoundly apologize. he thought you were cute, and funny, but the more he got a glimpse of you in the hallways, the more he noticed you wherever he were.

the break room, the coffee shop in front of the office building, the elevator. he found you in every room, even if you didn’t even know he was there. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, like looking at you from afar was something he had grown addicted to in such a short time.

he wouldn’t have called it a crush, but whenever he needed to print something he would carefully choose the printer on the same floor your office was on - hoping that, when walking by, your door would be open and that he could catch a glimpse of you. okay, maybe thinking back, there had been a few moments in which he felt very infatuated by the idea of you…

looking at you from across the room, while zoning out on the conversation he was in, and noticing how sometimes you would look back too, he told himself that yes, that was definitely a crush.

idk i love the dynamics of stoic boyfriend x artsy girlfriend. wtv??? i’m done .

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Reader is late getting home???? Worried huggy bear????

I myself, was half-asleep when I wrote this! I hope it isn't a complete mess! 🫣

Quinn: It's after midnight, baby. Are you okay? (12:19am)

Quinn: Hello? (12:43am)

Quinn: Missed call. (12:46am)

Quinn: Missed call. (12:52am)

Quinn: Baby, you're worrying me. Please, text me. (12:54am)

Quinn: Missed call. (12:55am)

Quinn: Baby, please, call me. (12:58am)

Pacing the living room floor, Quinn kept checking his phone, the screen never turning off as he walked back and forth, endlessly. You had gone out with some girlfriends hours ago, and had told Quinn that you would be back before midnight. However, it was nearing one o'clock in the morning and there hadn't been word from you since slightly after eleven. Always one to keep your word, he never had reason to worry until now. Quinn hated messaging you repeatedly, and even worse, all of the missed calls. He never wanted you to feel smothered or like he was keeping tabs on you. Quinn trusted you fully, and he hoped that it would still remain that way after you saw everything. 

Unsure of what to do, other than remain pacing his apartment, Quinn decided to return to where you and your friends had gone for the evening, in hopes that maybe you were still there. Outside, it had been storming, pouring rain since dawn. He'd put on a hat and jacket before grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door. His palms were damp and his fingers trembled out of worry of what could have happened to you. 

It was so late, no one in the building was about and it was eerily quiet. He'd enter the elevator and select the wrong floor either due to nerves or exhaustion. The parking garage would be what he had wanted, but instead, Quinn would press the ground floor button. Each floor that ticked by, another scenario would cross his mind about where you could be, and each time it would pain his heart. The doors would open, and blindly, Quinn would walk out, his mind clouded. It would take several steps before he'd realize he wasn't on the right floor. That's when he noticed something, 

There, in one of the lobby's chairs, you were coiled up, asleep. He could have fallen to his knees in relief at the sight of you. 

"Oh, thank god," he muttered to himself, before exhaling the deepest breath. Making short work of the gap, Quinn rushed to your side while you remained asleep. There on the floor in front of you, was your phone. Had you still been holding it, it was possible all of his phone calls could have stirred you, however, that clearly hadn't been the case. 

"Wake up, sweetheart," he whispered, gently caressing your cheek, hoping to wake you without scaring you, "Sweetheart?"

"Hmm?" You were completely out of it when you finally came to. Blinking several times in quick succession, you'd finally realize it was Quinn who was talking to you. "Quinn? What-- what's going..on?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, "Yes, it's me, babe. I've been wondering where you've been!"

"Wh-what do you mean?" Dropping your legs down from their tightly tucked position, you winced from the pain. "Oh, ow--!"

Quinn put his hand to your back, giving soft touches while you struggled to unfold yourself. "Take your time, you're okay," he smiled. "I was just about to come see if I could find you."

"Where's-- where's my, phone?"

"I have it, baby. It was on the floor."

You looked up at him so confused. "I fell asleep down here?"

Quinn would step in front of you and kneel down, putting his hands on your legs. His expression was so loving and caring, and trying to convey that everything was okay. He was just happy that he had found you. "Let's go home, sweetheart. Let's get you upstairs."

You nodded, taking his hand after he rose back to his feet. Quinn carried your clutch and phone as he wrapped his other arm around your waist, helping you steady yourself. He knew you had had a few drinks and just didn't want anything to happen to you while in his care or otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, baby," you apologized, laying your head on your shoulder once in the elevator. "I remember them dropping me off, then sitting down to fix the strap of my shoe... I guess I just somehow fell asleep. Your tone was that was shame and embarrassment, but Quinn harbored none of those feelings. 

"I'm just glad you're safe. That's all that matters to me, alright?" He reassured, placing his lips to your temple for a long kiss. 

"What time is it?"

"After one by now."

"One?" You whined. "Oh my gosh, Quinny! I'm sorry!"

"Shh, you're alright."

You wanted to cry! You remembered telling him you would have been home around eleven. Quinn tightened his grip on your waist slightly. His touch was warm, sending a wave of goosebumps cascading over your skin. He loved you so much; you were the most important thing in his life and he wanted nothing more than to protect you. You, however, in that moment, felt so ashamed at what you had done. You would stay quiet until he got you back inside his apartment. 

"Safe and sound," he whispered in your ear, standing directly behind you. "Time for bed?"

Staggering slightly, you turned around to face him, your eyelids so heavy with exhaustion. "Yes, please."

Quinn smiled, "Good, I've been ready."

In one quick movement, he'd pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, your head falling against his chest. He was your white knight. He'd sit you down on the bed and you would slump forward slightly, not having him to support you. 

"Here, let me help you," he said, kneeling again, but this time to remove your shoes. His touch was so soft and delicate, caressing every curve your body had to offer. "Can you stand for me, sweetheart?"

With his hands extended, Quinn would help get you to your feet one more time and you'd fall into him slightly. With his arms around you, he'd find the zipper of your dress and drag it down to expose your back. Every time he touched you, it was so gentle and careful. Quinn was the only guy you had been with, who treated you with such compassion and tenderness. It seemed a lost art these days. 

From your shoulders, your dress would drop from your body and come to rest around your bare feet. You pulled him closer to you, more cold than exposed, and he was so warm. 

"Let me go get you something to sleep in, okay?" Quinn spoke softly, nose buried in your perfumed hair. 

"May I have one of your hoodies, please?"

He smiled, knowing just how much you loved to steal them. "Of course, baby, hold on one second okay?"

When he stepped away, you'd cross your arms across your chest to stay as warm as you could, standing there in only your underwear. The light in the room was dim and you'd kick the dress from your feet nearly tripping yourself up in the process, wobbly from the alcohol still lingering in your system. 

"Careful, careful," he cooed, making sure you didn't fall. "Here, how about this one?"

He'd help you get the hoodie on and down over your body, his hands lingering at the hem, just below the curve of your ass. With your face in the curve of your neck, the two of you would share a laugh as Quinn wasn't always the most...handsy...type. When he was, he got embarrassed and flustered, but you thought it was always adorable. 

"I need to take my makeup off," you mumbled, unwilling to part with him though you needed to. 

"Do you need any help?"

"No, I'll be okay. Thank you."

"You go do that, and then we'll go to bed," he hummed, sending chills through your body. Eventually, you'd find the strength to wander off to the bathroom and remove your makeup, but after sometime, Quinn joined you, already changed out of his street clothes.

"You're beautiful," he said, coming up behind you and after you had a clean face. "You don't need all of that stuff."

His arms snaked around your waist, his lips near your ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," you replied, hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "You're too sweet."

"Come on, beautiful, time for bed?"

"Mhm."

After one more kiss, you'd follow him back to the bedroom where he had already pulled the covers back. You'd climb across his side of the bed to clumsily snuggle down into the covers.  

"Comfy?" He'd ask after you were settled, joining you shortly after. 

"I have the spins," you whined, feeling the room spin now that you were laying down. 

"Come here, baby. You'll be okay once you relax." 

Scooting over to Quinn, you'd put your hands against his chest and try to focus on his heartbeat rather than how your head was feeling. His warmth was so comforting and his touch addictive. Quinn's fingers trailed through your hair as your eyes finally fell closed. 

"I'm sorry about making you worry, Quinny," you whispered, fingers coiled in his shirt. 

"None of that matters now," he said, lips nearly touching your forehead. "I'm just glad I found you. I hate to sleep alone."

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

My counselor in college (licensed psychologist who used to work at an inpatient mental health facility) heard me confess that I had almost attempted suicide over the weekend prior by walking into traffic and his first words were “well that wouldn’t have worked, you would have lived. And you’re Catholic right? You would just go to Purgatory” like thanks I’m so glad the point is that I picked a poor method and my religion would villainize me rather than the point being my SA trauma was consuming me and literally threatening my life.

Another time I told him how my best friends (who were my roommates) helped me through an episode of self harm and regularly helped me with ED stuff and he was like “they have their own lives and schoolwork to focus on. Don’t you think they might feel like it’s a burden to help you? You should hide it better from them.” Which was INSANE to hear, especially as someone who intensely fears being a burden and will shoulder any suffering in silence to AVOID being a burden, which is exactly WHY my best friends wormed their way into helping me because even if I wasn’t going to ask for it they were going to take care of me anyway. That conversation gave me such a heavy guilt complex that it’s been probably….three years since this counselor said that and I still regularly apologize to my friends for making them take care of me.

Not everyone is cut out to be a therapist and I genuinely hope when I start seeing one regularly again I can find one that’s actually good and not just willing to say whatever opinion they want

[mariasont]

hi bby, i also have another idea! <3

it’s a song inspired fic with spencer or hotch and bimbo!reader and how they are in the office when they first get together and maybe some moments before they do!!

the song i was thinking of is birds of a feather by billie eilish and you can choose either hotch or spence bcuz i can’t decide, lol

anyway ily and i’m so glad you’re doing better and it’s so lovely to see you here again!! <33

BIRDS OF A FEATHER - S.R

a/n: i just need you to know you are literally the backbone of my fics i swear!!! ur requests are always my favorite <3 but anyway ilysm and i'm so happy to be and so happy to fufill your request, i hope you like it!! :)

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: clingy!reader, dramatic gf calm bf best duo, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, idiots in love

wc: 1k

You'd lost count of how many times you'd checked the clock. Five days without Spencer felt like an eternity. You weren't sure how people survived long-distance relationships. 

You’d tried everything to distract yourself. A true crime documentary had seemed like a good idea—something to make you feel like Spencer was still close, in that nerdy, FBI way of his—but it turned out to be too scary (and okay, a little boring). You’d spent most of it hiding behind a pillow, silently debating whether the narrator’s voice was creepy or just British.

All you could do was scroll on your phone and pout at the clock, wondering if maybe--just maybe--you'd somehow willed time to speed up since the last time you looked. Spoiler: you hadn't.

By the time you heard the jingle of keys outside the door, you were practically vibrating with excitement. You shot off the couch so fast you nearly tripped on the blanket you'd be wrapped in all night. 

The lock clicked, and there he was—Spencer, with tired eyes and messy hair, his satchel hanging limply off one shoulder like it weighed more than he did. He looked exhausted but perfect, the way only Spencer could.

"Spencie!" you squealed, launching yourself at him before he could even get through the doorway.

"Hi," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. He smelled faintly of coffee and something antiseptic, but underneath it all was that comforting, familiar scent that was just him. "I missed you, too."

You buried your face in his chest for a moment, breathing him in like you could bottle the feeling and save it for later. Then, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, you gripped his jacket tightly. “You better have. I’ve been losing my mind waiting for you.”

Spencer’s lips twitched into a tired smile. “Losing your mind? Sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

"Definitely," you said, nodding earnestly. "I've been so bored, Spence. I started talking to myself--like, full on conversations. And I'm not as smart as you, so they weren't even good conversations."

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your hip. “I’m sure they were better than you think.”

You stepped back and began tugging his jacket off, shooing him toward the couch. He followed without a word of protest, letting you fuss over him.

“You look so tired, baby,” you said, plucking his satchel off the floor and setting it aside. “Did you eat? You better have. I should’ve made something, but I didn’t know when you’d get here, and I got distracted, and—”

Spencer's hand caught yours, making your mouth snap shut. His fingers were warm, and the way they curled around yours was enough to make your brain go fuzzy for a second. 

"I'm fine. Really."

“You don’t look fine,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him. “You look all…” You waved vaguely at his face. “Work-y.”

“Work-y,” he echoed, his lips twitching into a small, tired smile.

“Exactly,” you said, nodding as you plopped down beside him and immediately curled into his side. Your arms looped around him, holding him tightly, as though he might vanish if you let go.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch. 

“You’re very clingy tonight,” he teased, though the way his arm came up to pull you closer told you he didn’t mind.

“Obviously,” you replied, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in forever. I missed your face. And your hair. And your nerdy little brain. Especially your nerdy little brain.”

He laughed quietly. “My brain missed you, too.”

“Good,” you said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere for at least... three days. Maybe four. You’ll just have to solve crimes from here.”

Spencer hummed, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “I’m not sure the FBI would agree to that.”

“Then they’ll have to fight me for you,” you said with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms. “Honestly, I could probably take Hotch in a fight. He doesn’t look like he’s had a good night’s sleep since, like, 1999. One shove, and he’s done for.”

Spencer laughed, his chest shaking against yours. “You’d shove Hotch? I think that’s a violation of multiple workplace policies.”

You grinned, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’d be worth it. You’re way more important than some dumb policies.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” you said, your grin widening as you leaned forward to nudge his nose with yours. “Now, scoot over. I’m not comfy enough.”

Before he could ask what you meant, you were already moving, shifting to climb into his lap with zero hesitation. Spencer blinked in surprise, but his hands instinctively came up to steady you, one resting on your waist while the other settled on your thigh.

“You could’ve warned me,” he murmured, though his lips quirked into a small smile as you tucked yourself against him like a human blanket.

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your forehead against his. “Besides, I missed you too much to sit all the way over there.”

Spencer let out a soft, breathy laugh, his nose brushing yours as he adjusted to your weight. “You don’t think this is a little excessive?”

“Excessive? No. Necessary? Yes.” You kissed the tip of his nose, grinning when his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “You’re my boyfriend, Spencie. This is part of the job description.”

He shook his head, but the way his arms tightened around you gave him away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” you said smugly, nuzzling closer to him.

“I do,” he admitted. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I love you more than I can put into words.”

Spencer let out a long breath, his head resting back against the couch as his hands stayed comfortably on your waist. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” you teased, though you didn’t move an inch from where you were nestled against him.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low and a little gravelly.

“Good,” you whispered, your cheek pressed to his. “That means you’re staying right here.”

He didn’t answer, but the way his arms tightened around you was more than enough.

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[seresinhangmanjake]

An Heir

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You and Feyd intend to be together forever--marry, have children, lead Giedi Prime side by side--but your plans are disrupted when the Reverend Mother of the Bene Gesserit reveals Lady Fenring is pregnant and, to Feyd's utter shock, the baby is his.

Notes/Warnings: This will be a two or three part fic (happy ending). Based on a request from @tgmreader. Implied sexual manipulation (assault), mention of pregnancy, feelings of betrayal.

Words: 2350

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Reader POV

A woman always knows when another woman is scheming. And you can practically smell it on her. She’s been working to draw him in for days, sneaking looks at him out of the corner of her eye; looks she makes sure he notices. She peers at him from under her blonde lashes like she holds a secret she’s willing to share with only him, and being a woman yourself, you know what kind of secret she is hinting at. 

You just can’t decipher what she wants with him. Yes, he’s linked to power and that power will one day be his, but for now and for a long time to come, he is the na-Baron only. Compared to her, he’s still a boy in some respects, which makes you fear Feyd falling prey to the manipulation tactics you know she’s gained from her Bene Gesserit studies.

She’s mature, bewitchingly beautiful, she knows the ways of sex, of life, and she watches him in a manner that you’ve seen tug at some sort of string inside of him. With each day that has gone by, he’s seemingly grown more accepting of her sneaky advances. The seductive tone of her voice when she whispers words in his vicinity as she passes him, the subtle quirk of her red-painted lips, the sparkle she cleverly plants in her eye—he questions it less and less. 

It’s not until you follow her the night of his birthday that you understand just how far she intends to go. You follow her following him, hiding from the bursts of light that fireworks outside are shooting through the windows. She’s a venomous beast in the shadows, the bright flashes illuminating the beauty she dons, a perfectly crafted mask. 

As she trails after him, you observe her steps—her quiet, seductive advancements—that do not go undetected by Feyd. But she does not fear him, and she does not startle at the blade he holds to her throat once he’s tired of her games.

“You’re following me,” he says, and for a moment, you feel a sense of relief. He’s not entranced. He’s not so blinded by her wiles to be tricked. But then he releases her and says, “I dreamed about you last night,” and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. 

“A pleasant dream, I hope,” she replies. 

Her voice is altered. Too smooth. An odd pitch. He follows this time, his head twitching as he tries to block out the words you know are slithering into his mind. 

They continue through the hallways like master and pet until they’ve entered an unrecognizable wing of the Harkonnen fortress. Only once she disappears behind a door do you step out of the shadows. You’ll grab him, you think—take his arm and pull him away from the range of her influence so he will snap back to his senses—but he’s following her through that doorway before you can reach him. 

She’s successfully lured him in, and you don’t know what to do. She can control you if she wants, have you slit your throat right in front of him if you make yourself known. And being under her spell, will he even notice that he’s losing you until it’s too late? Or will he stand there with a blank expression as your body drains of life?

You tiptoe to the entrance he had not fully closed behind him and peek through the sliver of space between the door and its frame.

With a gasp, your hand flies to your mouth. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes. Your eyelids beg to squeeze shut at the sight of him on his knees before her. And it’s then that you realize she has yet to use the full power of the Voice on him. Had she, you surely would’ve heard it. It’s a distinct sound, immediately identifiable.

Some part of him must want this—to be at her mercy. 

Your chest caves as your knees begin to wobble. Your heart shatters.

He leans closer and you can’t watch anymore. You can’t watch their lips meet in a kiss he swore he would only ever give to you. So you take a step back, then another, and another, until you’re running. 

—

Feyd POV

Feyd stands before them: three figures that, when concentrated in a dense grouping, mold into a formidable foe. The Baron, whose features are hard. The Reverend Mother, whose aged mouth is set in a frown detectable through her veiled headdress. And the Fenring Bene Gesserit, whose lips curve in a soft smile and eyes glance down at her feet every time he looks at her as if she’s some bashful girl untouched by man, which, given the circumstances, is far from true. 

“It’s not mine!” Feyd snaps. 

The Reverend Mother lets out an irritated huff—her third of the morning. “My Lord–”

“It’s not!”

Feyd turns his head to where you’ve been standing off to the side. He wants to see your face; he needs to reassure you that the information relayed in the last few minutes is nothing but sick lies, but you’re not there. He didn’t notice you leave. Did you sneak out? Did you run? Did your heels click on the floor with your retreating steps and his ears were too fuzzed from vile words to hear it? You’ve been avoiding him for days, but he didn’t expect such asinine chatter would get you to completely abandon him now. You’re smarter than to believe what they say, and you know him better than that.

“The child inside Lady Fenring belongs to you, my Lord na-Baron,” the Reverend Mother repeats, drawing Feyd’s burning gaze back to the trio. “That is a fact.”

His fists ball at his sides. “It’s impossible. I didn’t touch your witch.” And he never would have. He’s had other plans. Plans with you. He intends to marry you, to put his heir inside of you, and he wouldn’t have jeopardized that future for anyone, let alone a Bene Gesserit. 

“Do you not recall the night of your birthday, my Lord?” Lady Fenring asks, her voice soft. “I was with you for hours.”

No. She’s wrong. He was with you, beside you, your warm, bare skin against his as the celebrations for his coming of age took place outside the walls. He was in the only place he ever chooses to be once darkness has descended upon the city. Not once has he strayed from the consistency of bringing you to his room under the noses of your parents and his uncle. And on that night barely three days ago, he’d fallen asleep with you in his arms after you were both spent. He remembers the lull of your soft breaths brushing his chest. 

“Stop with your lies, you–” 

Flashes invade his mind, almost painful as he tries and fails to shut them out. His eyelids pinch. His jaw ticks. The guest quarters are a blip of an image in his head. A body on top of his. Unfamiliar touch. Foreign moans. A scent that isn’t yours. 

As the fogginess fades, Feyd shakes his head. No. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not to you. 

“I would’ve thought the time we spent together would be worth remembering,” Lady Margot says.

“You got in my head,” he grits out through clenched teeth. 

“It matters not!” the Reverend Mother snaps. “The child is yours and it must be legitimized. Once Lady Fenring gives birth, you will wed.”

—

Reader POV - Three Months Later

You’re disappointed. 

You’d spent days preparing yourself for what was to come—hours upon hours of strengthening your resolve by talking yourself through every possible scenario—and yet, as you step off of your family’s ship onto Giedi Prime soil, you must begrudgingly accept that it was all for naught. 

Touching the ground is like touching him. What belongs to him is a part of him, and you sense his presence in every grain of white sand under your shoes. 

Your heart jackrabbits in your chest, pressing against the cage of your ribs. If it could free itself, you wonder in which direction it would leap: back to the ship, ready to return to the protection of your home planet? Or toward the fortress, toward him. You wonder if his hands would be willing to catch it, brush it free of dust and grime and keep it close to his. But there’s no way to know until you’re in front of him. You lost the right to expect him to cradle your most precious organ when you left him without explanation, before he could level you with excuses for what he had done. 

Noticing your absence from their sides, your parents pause and turn back to face you. 

“Have you frozen, dear?” your mother asks with a chuckle. “You don’t appear to be breathing.” 

She glances at your father, whose brows raise and lips curve into a lopsided smile. Your mother loves that smile. It’s one of the qualities she finds so endearing about your father. The first time he smiled that smile, she claimed it soothed her nerves over the arrangement your grandparents made for her future as his wife. And you know that feeling, that sense of calm; the safety of a lover’s company. 

Your body aches as the memories of Feyd settle onto your shoulders. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, held you, moaned your name—all unique to him. They are what persuaded you to open your body, allowing him to wrap a hand around your love and hoard it for himself. And it pains you to know that if he has chosen to let it go, if he no longer cares for it, your love will never be the same. It will not make its way back to you. It will not heal. Like your rejected heart, your love will lie at his feet, shriveled and abused and begging for his attention. 

“Come now, we don’t want to keep the Houses waiting,” your father says. 

Your eyes are sandpaper. You blink. Damn the Houses. The frequency of meetings, which once seemed reasonable considering they afforded you and Feyd more time together, now feels like a nuisance; torture. There is no logical reason why every House member must be in attendance. Your being here changes nothing of the outcomes of negotiations and thinly veiled threats. 

Your mother grabs your hand. “Come,” she demands, towing you toward the aura of darkness.

You flinch as you enter through the doors. You’ve been predicting that upon returning to this place, you would have to fight the urge to cower into a corner, but as your eyes scan the fortress’s interior, all you can think is: home. Black walls and cold floors and hovering orbs of harsh light—a comfort that unexpectedly welcomes you as a former lover rather than rejects you as a traitor. 

Guards lead you further into the fortress toward a familiar room. You’re the first family to arrive—so much for making people wait—and you run your palm across the metal table in the center of the room. How many times have you sat at this table, imagining the rest of your life? Teasing one another? How many times has he taken you on it? As Lords and Ladies join your family, you find it best not to think about it.

You settle into a seat beside your father and, like everyone else, patiently wait for a machine to bring the Baron into the room. As he arrives, so do his nephews. 

You stop breathing.

Feyd’s eyes scan the space until they find you, and though you plead with yourself to look away, you can’t. He’s a force outside of nature. A magnetic presence much too alluring for your willpower to resist. And the longer he looks at you, the quicker the protective shell you’ve worked to build up chips away. 

He chooses to sit across from you rather than by his uncle. Not a seat he was meant to take, but no one argues. 

The Baron talks. Feyd stares. Your body heats. 

Eventually, you find a shred of strength and use it to rip your eyes away from his, but it doesn’t stop the ghostly caress of his gaze. What is he thinking? He doesn’t appear to hate you, but appearances can be deceiving. He’s capable of tamping down his emotions in front of others. There’s no telling what he would do should he get you alone, but you’re determined not to let that happen. You have no reason to be alone with him. He’s not yours. You’re not his. And people who do not belong to one another do not need to spend time secluded from others. 

You remind yourself of that many times over the duration of the meeting, repeating the words in your head until they’re at their barest bones. You’re not his, he’s not yours, never be alone together. Not his, not yours, never alone. Never alone. Never. 

But the harder you push, the more you want it; the more you want to drag him away, put your mouth on his, bite him, feast on his skin, swallow the groans you know you can pull from this throat. 

Fuck. 

You need to get away from him. 

You fidget with your fingers under the table, praying for the seconds to tick faster. Each one passes as if trying to outlast the one before it, and it’s sending you into a spiral of anxiety. Blurry vision, rushing blood, dry throat that’s beginning to overpower your ability to sit silently and still as you are meant to. 

But then, by some miracle, you’re granted mercy. The Baron dismisses the meeting, and you’ve never been more relieved in your life. A chance to escape. To breathe. You rise so quickly that your chair nearly flips over. 

And then you realize your mistake. 

Feyd’s eyes drop to your stomach. 

You swallow hard. 

A flutter fills your belly from the baby’s kick. 

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please let me know! It makes my day <3 Also, let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next part.

[buzzinrusso]

Disapproved love

You sat in the car outside the stadium, the keys dangling limply from the ignition. The hum of the world outside—distant chatter, the occasional roar of a car engine—felt muted, like it wasn’t real. Patri was inside with her teammates, probably laughing and joking about the game like they always did.

You wished you could be part of that world, but you knew better.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried. You’d spent months showing up to their dinners, cheering at their matches, and doing everything you could to blend in. But no matter what you did, you always felt like an outsider. Like you weren’t enough.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page where you’d drawn your latest Caitlyn cosplay design. The character had always been one of your favorites—strong, intelligent, and fiercely loyal. Everything you wanted to be but didn’t feel like.

Lately, even your cosplays couldn’t give you that spark of confidence they once did. How could they, when Patri’s teammates constantly made you feel small?

You clenched the sketchbook tighter, your chest aching with a mix of frustration and sadness. How much longer could you keep pretending it didn’t hurt?

--

It had started weeks ago, at another team dinner. You were seated beside Patri, the table filled with laughter and conversation. You’d thought, for once, that the evening was going well.

Then Claudia spoke.

“So, y/n,” she said, her tone sugary sweet in a way that set your nerves on edge. “How’s the... dress-up business going?”

You froze, heat creeping up your neck. “It’s not dress-up. I’m a cosplayer. I design and make costumes based on characters from games and shows.”

“Oh, right,” Claudia said, smirking. “And people actually pay you for that?”

“Claudia,” Patri warned, her voice low.

“What?” Claudia said, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious. It’s not exactly a real job, is it?”

Your stomach churned. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

“well, she works harder than most people I know,” Patri said, her jaw tight.

“Relax, Pat,” Mapi said, waving a hand dismissively. “She knows we’re joking.”

But they weren’t. You could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on you, stealing the air from your lungs.

That night, you cried in the shower, letting the water mask your tears. Patri had held you afterward, whispering reassurances, but the damage was already done.

Another situation that made you feel bad was one night at a post match party / dinner.

It started as a faint unease. At first, you told yourself you were imagining things. Patri’s teammates weren’t outright rude; they never said anything overtly cruel to your face. But their disinterest in you was palpable, like an invisible wall you couldn’t break through no matter how hard you tried.

You began to notice the subtle ways they excluded you. At team dinners, the conversations would shift to inside jokes and stories you weren’t a part of. When you tried to contribute, they’d either politely nod or continue talking as if you hadn’t spoken.

Once, at a post-match party, you’d decided to wear one of your more subtle cosplay-inspired outfits. It was a casual homage to one of Caitlyn’s looks—just a hat, a sleek blazer, and a few accessories that hinted at the character without being over the top. You’d hoped it might spark a conversation, a way to connect with them.

But when you arrived, Claudia had smirked and whispered something to Alexia. The two of them burst into quiet laughter, their eyes darting toward you. You didn’t need to hear what they said to know it wasn’t kind.

“Nice hat,” Mapi had commented later, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You forced a smile. “Thanks. It’s inspired by Caitlyn from Arcane.”

“Right,” Mapi said, raising an eyebrow. “The cartoon cop.”

“It’s not a cartoon,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s an animated series with complex characters and a really compelling story.”

But she wasn’t listening. She’d already turned back to Claudia, dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

Patri had been on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with her coach. You didn’t want to interrupt, so you swallowed the lump in your throat and found a quiet corner to sit in for the rest of the night.

---

The little moments added up, chipping away at your confidence bit by bit.

One afternoon, you arrived early to pick up Patri after practice. You parked outside the training ground, scrolling through your phone while you waited. The windows were down, and you couldn’t help but overhear the conversation happening nearby.

“I don’t get it,” Claudia was saying. “What does Patri even see in her?”

“She’s pretty,” Cata offered, though her tone wasn’t particularly kind.

“Sure, but she’s not exactly... grounded, is she?” Claudia replied. “I mean, cosplaying? Who even does that for a living?”

You gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white.

“She’s so clingy,” Alexia added. “Always hanging around like she belongs here.”

“She’s a distraction,” Mapi said bluntly. “Patri could do so much better.”

You sat frozen in the car, every word sinking into your skin like tiny barbs. They hadn’t even tried to lower their voices.

---

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell Patri. Not really.

How could you bring it up without making things harder for her? She already had enough on her plate with her demanding schedule, the pressure of the sport, and the endless scrutiny that came with being a professional athlete. You didn’t want to add to that burden.

So, you kept it to yourself.

You stopped wearing cosplay-inspired outfits to team events, opting for neutral, nondescript clothes instead. You avoided lingering at practices, making sure to arrive just as Patri was finishing up so you wouldn’t have to interact with her teammates.

You even started turning down invitations to post-match dinners, claiming you were busy with work. It wasn’t entirely a lie—you were busy. But you also couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through another evening of veiled insults and cold shoulders.

Patri noticed, of course.

“Are you okay?” she asked one night as the two of you lay in bed.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

She didn’t press, but you could see the worry in her eyes. It made you feel guilty, knowing she could sense your unhappiness but not knowing how to fix it without driving a wedge between her and her team.

---

The turning point came during one of your solo convention trips. You’d traveled to a city a few hours away to debut a new Caitlyn cosplay and another cosplay that you were really well known for on social media. The event had been a success—you’d won a craftsmanship award, taken dozens of photos with fans, and even made some new connections for future commissions.

But when you returned home, your excitement quickly faded.

Patri was sitting on the couch, her phone in hand. She looked up and smiled when you walked in, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey,” she said. “How was the convention?”

“It was great,” you said, trying to sound upbeat. “I won an award for the Caitlyn costume.”

“That’s amazing!” she said, standing to hug you.

But you couldn’t ignore the tension in her posture or the way her smile faltered when she pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your heart sinking.

She hesitated, her hands fidgeting at her sides. “The team said some things today. About... us.”

You swallowed hard. “What kind of things?”

“They think I’m distracted,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I’m not focused enough on football because of our relationship.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“I told them they were wrong,” she added quickly. “But... I don’t know, y/n. Maybe they’re right.”

The admission was like a knife to the chest. For weeks, you’d been trying to shield Patri from the negativity surrounding your relationship, but now it felt like you were the one dragging her down.

“Do you really think that?” you asked, your voice trembling.

She hesitated again, and that hesitation spoke louder than any words could.

That night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing her. And maybe—just maybe—it was your fault.

---

The coffee shop was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you. You sat in a corner booth, nursing a lukewarm cappuccino as your two best friends, Jade and Anya, sat across from you. Both were fellow cosplayers and some of the few people who truly understood your world.

Jade leaned back in her chair, her vibrant pink wig catching the soft light. She was mid-way through perfecting her cosplay of Vi from Arcane and never missed an opportunity to stay in character. Anya, in contrast, was dressed casually, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose braid, but her energy was no less animated as she munched on a cookie.

“So, how’s Caitlyn coming along?” Anya asked, her tone bright.

You hesitated, twirling your spoon in the remnants of your coffee. “It’s done. I debuted it at a con last week.”

“And?” Jade pressed, her eyebrows lifting.

“I won a craftsmanship award,” you said with a faint smile.

“Hell yes, you did!” Jade cheered, clapping her hands together. “That costume is a masterpiece. You’re a genius with those details.”

“Thanks,” you said, the corners of your mouth twitching upward.

Anya narrowed her eyes, leaning forward. “Okay, what’s up? You should be glowing right now, but you look like someone just told you that jinx died.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “It’s not about the cosplay. It’s... everything else.”

“Let me guess,” Jade said, crossing her arms. “The football team.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar sting of tears. “They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” Anya said gently, though her tone wasn’t entirely convincing.

“They do,” you insisted, your voice cracking. “They think I’m a joke. They think Patri deserves someone... better.”

Jade frowned, her expression darkening. “Better? Are they blind? You’re brilliant. You run your own business, you’re insanely talented, and you’re, like, one of the nicest people I know. What more do they want?”

“They want someone who fits into their world,” you said bitterly. “Someone who understands football and doesn’t make them look bad.”

“Make them look bad?” Anya repeated, her tone sharp. “How could you possibly—”

“They don’t take cosplaying seriously,” you interrupted, your words spilling out in a rush. “They think it’s childish or silly or not a real job. And because of that, they don’t take me seriously. They think I’m distracting Patri, and they keep telling her to break up with me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jade said, her voice rising. “That’s so messed up. Does Patri know how awful they’re being?”

“She knows,” you admitted, staring down at your coffee. “But I don’t think she knows how much it’s affecting me. And the worst part is, I feel like they’re starting to get to her.”

“What do you mean?” Anya asked, concern etched on her face.

“She said they think she’s distracted,” you said, your voice trembling. “And that maybe they’re right. I don’t know... maybe she is better off without me.”

Jade slammed her hand on the table, making the cups rattle. “No. Don’t you dare go down that road, y/n. This isn’t about you not being enough—it’s about them being insecure and narrow-minded.”

Anya reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Patri loves you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, y/n. Don’t let them make you doubt that.”

You sniffled, trying to hold back the tears. “I just feel so... alone. I don’t belong in their world, and it’s like no matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough for them.”

“You don’t need to belong in their world,” Jade said fiercely. “You belong in your world. And if they can’t see how amazing you are, that’s their problem—not yours.”

“But what if Patri can’t keep fighting for me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“She will,” Anya said with certainty. “She’s stronger than you think. And if she doesn’t fight for you, then she’s not the right one for you. But I don’t think that’s the case. She loves you, y/n. You just need to hold on and trust her.”

Jade leaned forward, her violet eyes blazing with determination. “And if those teammates of hers keep giving you grief, you let me know. I’ll show up in full Vi gear and scare the crap out of them.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. “Thanks, Jade. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Anya smiled softly. “You’re not alone, babes. You have us. And no matter what happens, we’ll always have your back.”

Their words were a balm to your wounded heart. For the first time in days, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed.

The comments didn’t stop after that. They just became quieter, more insidious.

“She’s so clingy,” you overheard Alexia say one evening when you arrived at the training ground to pick up Patri. “Always hanging around like a shadow.”

“She doesn’t get this life,” Cata had added. “She’s just going to hold Patri back.”

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting the urge to storm over and defend yourself.

The worst part was that you could see how their words affected Patri. She became quieter around them whenever you were present, like she was caught in the middle of an invisible tug-of-war. And every time she chose not to speak up, it felt like another crack in your heart.

---

It all came to a head after one of Patri’s matches. The game had been brutal, and Patri was clearly frustrated as she walked toward the car. You waited for her with a tentative smile, hoping to offer some comfort.

But when she climbed into the passenger seat, her face was stormy.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Rough game?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, staring out the window.

The silence stretched between you as you drove, tension thick in the air. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“The team thinks I’m distracted,” she said, her voice tight.

“Distracted by what?” you asked, though deep down, you already knew.

She hesitated, and that hesitation shattered you. “By me,” you whispered.

Patri sighed, rubbing her temples. “They don’t understand, Cara. They think... they think I can’t balance my career and our relationship.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your hands tightened on the steering wheel as tears blurred your vision.

“Do you think that too?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Of course not,” she said, but her tone lacked conviction.

The doubt in her voice cut deeper than anything her teammates had ever said. You felt your chest tighten, the weight of months of judgment and insecurity threatening to crush you.

“Maybe they’re right,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Maybe you’d be better off without me.”

“Don’t say that,” Patri said, turning to look at you.

“Why not?” you snapped, your voice cracking. “It’s what they want, isn’t it? Maybe it’s what you want too.”

“That’s not true,” Patri said, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her.

You pulled the car over and buried your face in your hands, finally letting the tears fall. “I can’t keep doing this, Patri. I can’t keep feeling like I’m not good enough for you.”

---

The next morning, Patri arrived at the training ground with a fire in her eyes. She found her teammates in the locker room, laughing and chatting as if nothing was wrong.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut through the noise.

The room fell silent as they turned to look at her.

“What’s up?” Mapi asked, frowning.

“It’s about y/n,” Patri said, crossing her arms. “I know what you’ve been saying about her. I’ve heard the comments, the whispers behind her back. And it stops now.”

“Patri, come on,” Claudia said, rolling her eyes. “We’re just looking out for you.”

“Looking out for me?” Patri repeated, her voice rising. “By tearing down the person I love? By making her feel like she’s not good enough? Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt her?”

“She’s not cut out for this life,” Alexia said, her tone defensive.

“She’s cut out for more than any of you will ever understand,” Patri shot back. “Do you know how hard she works? The hours she spends perfecting every detail of her cosplays? The way she brings characters to life in a way no one else can? That takes more dedication than most people have.”

“She’s a distraction,” Claudia said stubbornly.

“No,” Patri said firmly. “She’s my anchor. And if you can’t respect her, then you don’t respect me.”

---

Later that day, you sat in your workshop, surrounded by the pieces of your many cosplays. The hat sat in your lap, its intricate embroidery, a testament to hours of painstaking work. But no matter how beautiful it was, it couldn’t fill the hollow ache inside you.

You were startled when the door opened, and Patri stepped inside.

“Hey,” she said softly, her eyes red like she’d been crying.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sat beside you, taking your hands in hers. “I talked to them.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You did?”

“They know how wrong they were,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they don’t deserve to be part of my life.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as her words sank in. “You stood up for me?”

“Of course I did,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “You’re the most important person in my life, y/n. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt that.”

For the first time in months, the weight on your chest began to lift.

---

In the weeks that followed, things started to change. Patri’s teammates made an effort to include you, to learn about your work and your passions. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

And when you finally debuted your Caitlyn cosplay at a convention, Patri was there in the front row, cheering louder than anyone else.

As you posed for pictures, your eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you belonged

[andragoras-in-vanity]

yeah i need to bow out of this post because i have no idea where youre getting your information or how the space animal farms take up is relevant? humans dont need to keep spreading their cities outward and using land thats currently allocated to farms when it could be rehabilitated, plus animals tended to properly actually HELP the land if theyre native to those lands and cared for properly, and farming plants takes up an equal amount of land and resources to grow and farm on the scale needed to replace the meat industry (not even getting into exporting or importing due to climate). i live in a rural area and what your saying would be the case isnt how things have gone here, and the land isnt used and isnt part of any other ecosystem, its just fields anyway and wouldn't (shouldnt) be built on for housing or businesses, so the animals might as well get massive pens to roam

my argument is that reforming the meat industry IS reducing it, and since there just isnt a demand for things like leather goods, less product isnt an issue. without overproduction and consumption the population of animals being kept will drop anyway. small scale farms wont make things worse, and the impacts the meat industry has on the environment dont come from meat farming itself.

if i had the brain power id go through and link the articles to show you what i mean about the difference between the meat industry vs animal farming and the impacts they have cause i dont think im articulating it well, and i dont think i can unless i actually go to one of my local farms and show you how they work when not bound by corporate greed or the government 🙃 but i also know different cultures have different practices so maybe yours actually are that bad even on a small scale?

i do think there needs to be lots more options for personal choice, but i dont think converting entirely to a vegan option is the solution and i do hope that more people will acknowledge veganism as an option for things, but i also want some of the uppity types to realize importing of nuts and plants that arent native in order to sustain vegan diets is a massive issue for the environment too (but i also acknowledge that ive fallen into a lifestyle that means what i eat follows the seasons theyre harvested in so i dont typically buy imported foods, and not everyone can do that)

i argue in favour or small and local so you can verify the quality of the animals lives, the farms, and the products you get from them, rather than doing away with it or even simply reforming it and developing different issues that trickles down from government control (like throwing away tons of milk to create scarcity, not like...health codes involvment). we just need both plant and animal in smaller doses, easier to control the output of harmful effects such as a greenhouse vs massive international shipping operations.

its all just a complicated conversation with no real solution on the horizon until larger conversations are had at higher levels to protect animal rights and the environment without just shifting the same problem to another source. there has to be better ways for all of it to work but so many things need to come first for us to come to those solutions, i just hope we see the shift in our lifetime.

Ayoo just to preempt the inevitable dumb takes we’re about to start seeing;

I am PRO-WOOL

I am PRO-LEATHER

I am PRO-BEES

Fuck the idea of replacing durable, sustainable animal products with cheap, flimsy plastic that doesn’t bio-degrade. Agave nectar and other artificial sweeteners are expensive, labor-intensive, and destroy the environment to be farmed.

Do not buy into pernicious marketing campaigns pushed by dickhead organizations trying to stay relevant, like PETA.

[moonchild9350]

You Can Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

summary: your friends tell you about a brothel that resides in your city, a place to live out your deepest desires.

pairing: sex worker Jeongin x fab!reader

genre: smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 3.0k

warnings: takes place in a brothel so sex work, munch innie lol, overstimulation, edging, pussy job, protected (do) and unprotected sex (don't), removal of condom, creampie, squirting, soft dom reader, soft? sub innie, cum tasting, dirty talk, messy sex lol, brief mention of blood, vocal innie hehe

notes: Innie just looks so innocent in these pics idk just had to write something haha. i hope you like it! (lightly edited)

if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, and like ♡

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permissions. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

General Masterlist

It was the weekend, another exhausting week over and done with. You knew you wanted to unwind this weekend and after talking with your friend, you knew just the activity that would help you relax.

Your friend told you about a brothel in town, filled with men who are waiting to fulfill your every desire, no matter what it is. You were curious about the experience, never having been to one, so you decided to sign up right away.

You loved picking out your prey for the night, explaining what you wanted and how. As the time got closer to your reservation, you decided to get ready, as you bought the perfect outfit.

You slipped on your lingerie, the red a striking color on your skin tone, followed by your mini dress. It hung perfectly on your thighs, your curves accentuated and your breasts perched beautifully showing just enough cleavage. You slipped on your heels and eyed yourself in the mirror, more than satisfied with your look. Grabbing your bag, you made your way to the door, as your ride had just pulled up to your house.

The brothel offered its own transportation, allowing you to arrive in style, and who were you to deny the opportunity to be chauffeured. A sleek, black car awaited you, the driver waiting by the backdoor ready to escort you into the vehicle. You accepted his help and slid in. He closed the door and got back into the drivers seat, putting the car in drive and pulling away from your home.

The ride was short, as the brothel was just downtown, nestled in between two office buildings. To the ordinary passerby, they’d never guess what was going on between the walls of what seemed like another regular office building. You walked over to the receptionist, giving her your name.

Only a second more and her face lit up as she located your reservation.

“You are booked with Jeongin, correct?” She asked, her eyes scanning the computer screen before looking at you for confirmation.

“That’s correct,” you said, giving her a smile.

She nodded her head once and then went back to eyeing the computer screen, her nails click clacking occasionally on the keyboard as she finished checking you in.

After a few moments more she looked up and said, “you’re all set. Jeongin is waiting for you in room 143. I hope you have a great time and if you need anything please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

You followed where she gestured, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you made your way down a long hallway. There were doors on either side of the hall, a placard with the room number placed perfectly in the middle. Other than the soft music that played overhead, it was silent.

Arriving at your destination, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door three times. You listened carefully for a response, grasping the door knob and turning when you heard a faint “come in.”

You stepped into the room, your eyes instantly roaming over your surroundings. It was stylish but cozy and not too big. There was a window at the far end of the wall, with sheer curtains pulled across, blocking the outside world from looking in. A couch sat in the corner, fluffy pillows littering every section. Your eyes continued to roam, taking in a bathroom to your right, the lights off except for a mini nightlight in the wall. Finally, your eyes landed on the queen sized bed in the center of the room, outfitted with a white downy comforter, and piles of pillows.

A man got up from the bed, his eyes directed right at you.

“Y/n?” He asked, wanting to confirm the right person was in the room.

“That’s me,” you replied, “and you’re Jeongin?”

He nodded and smiled, little dimples popping up with the gesture. Jeongin was cute, his face chiseled but with a hint of babyish features. His hair was perfectly styled, the strands framing his face haphazardly. He was dressed in all white, his shirt unbuttoned half way to reveal a portion of his chest, the outline of his pecs poking through the gap.

Jeongin was outfitted just how you wanted him, innocent appearing and ready for you to ruin.

“I’m ready for you,” Jeongin replied as he sat on the bed and looked at you in a way that made your pussy clench.

You smirked at his eagerness and sauntered over to him, your heels click clacking on the tile floor.

“Yeah baby?” You cooed as you kneeled on the bed to get closer to him.

He merely nodded his head, his big brown eyes locked on yours. You maneuvered yourself so you were lying on your back, your dress riding up your thighs and teasing him for what was underneath. You spread your legs, displaying your panties that now was sporting a small wet patch to Jeongin.

He eagerly scrambled towards you, spreading your legs as he got comfortable in between them. You sighed as he began to press soft kisses up your thighs, edging closer and closer to your core. Right when he got to the place you needed him most, he switched legs, kissing the flesh there as he stroked your other thigh.

Once he was satisfied, he dragged his lips on your skin until he reached your pelvis, his nose brushing the fabric of your panties. He breathed in your scent, his pupils dilating and cock twitching at your scent. Jeongin pressed his plush lips against your pussy again and again before spitting on the fabric and pressing his tongue flat against your covered entrance before licking up towards your clit.

You let out a low moan as he repeated the motion again and again, teasing you until you were writhing under his grasp.

“Take em off baby,” you cooed.

Jeongin let out a whine before disconnecting his mouth from your pussy. He reached up to grasp the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs before tossing them away. He immediately attached himself back to your pussy, his tongue darting out to play with your clit.

You laid there completely relaxed as Jeongin ate you out, as he lazily played with your clit, edging you to the point of tears. His mouth felt so good, your slick continually leaking out of your entrance and onto his face.

As he sucked your clit into his mouth, he shoved two fingers within your warmth and instantly curled them upwards, stimulating your sweet spot and causing you to see stars. You gripped his hair and tugged, moaning at the vibrations his mouth was giving you as he groaned.

His fingers were steadily moving in and out of your pussy, the pressure against your sweet spot causing pleasure to spread throughout your core as his tongue batted at your clit. You were close so you began to thrust your hips in tune with how he was fingering you.

“Ahh gonna come baby!” You squealed as he picked up the pace.

You felt the warmth increase and the coil tighten within your belly, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You took a breath and Jeongin bit at your clit and you let go with a loud moan as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of you while sucking gently at your clit.

You arched your back as he continued to suck, your legs attempting to close at the overstimulation, but finding it difficult to do so as Jeongin held your legs open. He pressed himself further to your pussy, licking up your slick, making sure not to waste a single drop.

“Mmm too much,” you whined as you tugged on his hair attempting to lift his head up, but it was no use as he buried his face even more so he could continue to give attention to your clit.

Without warning, your orgasm hit you once more, lighter this time around but still powerful nonetheless. You whimpered as you let the feeling take over, staring up at the ceiling as stars danced across your vision.

Finally, Jeongin leaned back as he licked his lips, his face shining with your slick. He grinned as he took in your pussy, his eyes landing on your folds soaked with his spit and your cum, to your puffy, swollen clit that was peaking out so perfectly.

You slowly sat up, your hair a mess, and the straps of your dress hanging haphazardly on your shoulders and smirked at Jeongin.

“Lay down for me,” you said shifting so Jeongin could take your spot.

Once he was comfortable, you slid your dress off and crawled towards your lover for the night. Your hands slid up his legs, running gently over the fabric of his pants before reaching his bulge. You gripped him through his pants, smirking as he let out a whine at the pressure you were applying.

“Take it out please, please,” Jeongin whimpered as he pouted at you.

“Should I take out your cock? Do you deserve it though?” You teased back.

Jeongin quickly shook his head, strands of hair falling in his face. “Please?” He asked once more.

You were satisfied with his plea, so you gripped his waistband and dragged his pants down his legs watching as his cock sprung from its confines and nestled against his belly, nice and hard.

Tossing his pants elsewhere, you straddled his legs and nestled your pussy over his length. You began to rock your hips, his cock slotting perfectly between your folds, the tip catching at your clit with each thrust.

The feel of your pussy dragging against his cock was too much, the pleasure he was receiving causing him to let out a groan that rumbled deep within his chest. Jeongin’s eyes went straight to your pussy and his hands on your hips as he helped guide you over his length.

You were wet, your slick coated his cock and aiding in the glide as you fucked yourself over his length. His cock felt good, the vein that ran along his length hitting the right spots as you thrusted your hips.

Jeognin let out a mewl as he bit his lips his eyes snapping to yours. “Gonna come, shit…don’t stop. Please, please, please,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Yeah? Gonna come? So good for me,” you said breathlessly, as your orgasm was steadily building.

You looked down briefly at where your pussy was gliding effortlessly against his cock and what you saw nearly made you come right there. It was messy, your cream coating his length and the head of his cock was an angry red, drops of precum leaking from the slit. You looked back up at Jeongin, taking in his fucked out state, as his bit his lips so hard, he drew blood, the red droplets smeared across his bottom lip.

With a yelp, you watched as he let go, his cum spurting out onto his belly and your pussy, the white substance adding to the mess that was already present. His release triggered yours, your high hitting you for the third time that night. You continued to thrust against his length, riding out your high as the pleasure slowly simmered away.

You slowed down until you came to a stop as you tried to catch your breath. Jeongin was in no better state, his body glistening with sweat, his pupils dilated and full of lust. You barely registered that he was getting up until you were flat on your back. You stared up at the man above you with wide eyes, surprised at his bust of confidence.

He was still hard and you could tell it was bothering Jeongin as he was desperate to be inside you. You watched as he rolled a condom down his length as it was the rules of the brothel before he brought the head to your entrance and pushed in.

You let out a moan at the stretch, trying to even out your breathing as he continued to sheath himself inside you. Once he bottomed out, he didn’t give you a chance to adjust but instead began to draw his cock in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace.

You were turned on even more as he whined and whimpered, his voice high pitched and strained as he fucked you with force. His eyes trained on your breasts, watching as they bounced up and down with each thrust. He groaned as his hands reached out and gripped them, messaging the flesh and pinching your nipples. You clenched around him as he flicked at the nubs, the sensation of pleasure traveling down to your core.

“Fuck! This pussy oh my god!” Jeongin moaned as his hips slammed into yours.

“Fuck me harder baby,” you moaned as he adjusted himself so he could drive himself deeper within you, so much so you could feel his cock kiss your cervix.

“I’m. Trying.” He said as he punctuated each word with a thrust.

He brought your legs up over his shoulders and leaned down over you. You could feel yourself get even more wet, the evidence present with the sound your pussy made with each drag of his cock within your walls. You were close, the feeling spreading within your belly. You felt your breath increase with each thrust of his hips, as a different sensation started to build. You have only felt this way a few times, most men not able to get you there, but apparently this would be one of those times.

You relaxed further into the pillow as you looked Jeongin in the eyes. His pace increased ever so slightly and you could tell he was close, his groans increasing as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Na uh baby, don’t you dare come until I do,” you warned, smirking as his eyes snapped open and stared down at you.

“But, I don’t think I can hold it,” he whined as a pained moan left his lips.

“Too bad, make me come and then you can okay?”

Jeongin took a breath and nodded his head in resignation. You smiled up at him and gripped his arms as he fucked you. He angled himself differently one last time, this time his cock dragging against your sweet spot, causing you to mewl out at the sensation.

You felt your orgasm build more steadily, the feeling building until it was right there, slowly spilling, your pussy fluttering around his cock. Jeongin grinned before pressing down on your lower belly, the added pressure causing you to squirt, your fluids threatening to push his cock out of your pussy. However, he just shoved his length harder within you, reveling in your pleasure as you thrashed around beneath him.

Jeongin had made you come and he couldn’t hold off any longer. He withdrew his length causing you to whimper at the sudden loss, before he gripped the condom and pulled it off of his cock. It was against the rules, but rules be damned. He wanted to feel you fully as he filled you up to the brim with his cum.

You gasped as he sheathed himself back within you and fucked you at an inhuman pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling up the room. You let out whimpers, the overstimulation now to much, however, you just laid there and took his cock, as you slowly found yourself slipping away and succumbing to the pleasure.

“Shh,” Jeongin cooed as he pushed your hair from your sweaty face. “This will be between you and me yeah?”

You nodded in consent, understanding that this would be your little secret. At your admission, Jeongin snapped his hips into yours one last time before stilling, his orgasm hitting him hard as he came deep inside you.

He took a few moments to catch his breath before withdrawing his cock, his cum leaking out of your entrance and down your ass. Jeongin quickly dragged a finger through the fluids before bringing it to his lips, moaning as he tasted the mixture of your arousals.

You laid there exhausted and spent, your body sore and aching from the abuse it had just received. You both were silent as you came back to reality, the only sound was the loud, rapid beating of your heart in your ears.

Finally, you sat up and faced Jeongin who was sitting next to you.

“That was amazing,” you said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his eyes.

“Yeah? I’m glad,” he said as he grinned, his cheeks turning a ruddy color at the praise.

“Aww you’re so cute!” You teased as you tried to pinch his cheeks just for him to chuckle and try to evade your advances.

After a while, you both found yourselves lying side by side, your bodies sticky from the mixture of your cum and his and dried sweat. Your mind drifted off to how his mouth felt on your pussy and how he took care of your body like no one else before. You may have to visit him more often. But, you had one night with him now and you weren’t going to waste it.

Getting up, you straddled his body and scooted up to his head.

“Ready for dessert?” You asked as you began to lower your pussy over his mouth.

Jeongin just licked his lips and gripped your hips bringing your core to his tongue.

“Oh!” You squealed as he dug in.

As they say dessert is sometimes the best part of the meal and Jeongin would definitely have to agree.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek

divider by @cafekitsune

[wqnsho]

revolver | the salesman x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: what's supposed to be an early day off with your coworker, gong ji-cheol, turns into a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and russian roulette. as danger escalates, so does the magnetic pull between you, blurring the line between survival and sexual desire. *.✧ word count: 7.1k *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, reader smokes descriptive fight scenes, guns, sucking on guns, gi-hun dies instead of the salesman, the salesman is a warning on its own, reader is also craycray like the salesman, use of gong yoo's real name (do let me know if i should not), co-workers eye fucking, sexual innuendoes, tbf its hinted they fuck after the end. 18+ SCENES (no actual smut, just your typical moaning and sucking of the gun). *.✧ note: not my proudest work but i hope u like it! chances of part 2 is close to none btw, I, for the love of god, was stuck for an hour on that goddamn gun sucking scene, but who knows. masterlist | request here

You let out a heavy sigh as you sank onto one of the worn benches in Tapgol Park. The air was crisp, and the faint hum of city life surrounded you. You were currently waiting for Gong Ji-cheol, your one and only co-worker. He had asked you to meet him here, promising to wrap up his final task for the day before heading to his humble home together.

Your cheek throbbed as you pressed a small bag of ice against it, wincing at the sting. The last girl you played against had been a real piece of work. Not only did you lose much faster than usual, but her slap had left an unforgettable impression—literally. It was as if she had mistaken you for her runaway fiancé who had left her high and dry.

“Damn, she packed a punch,” you muttered under your breath, the memory making you scowl.

With another sigh, you brought a cigarette to your lips, holding it between your fingers as you lit it with practiced ease. The familiar burn in your lungs was oddly comforting. Crossing your legs, you leaned back against the bench’s headrest, letting the smoke escape in a slow exhale that curled into the night sky.

‘Where the hell is he?’ you thought irritably, your foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the pavement. Your eyes scanned the park, catching glimpses of couples strolling by and the occasional jogger.

Just as you were about to pull out your phone to check the time, you spotted a familiar figure entering the park. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Gong Ji-cheol strode in with an air of nonchalance, his hands laden with paper bags that seemed ready to burst at the seams.

You didn’t call out to him, opting instead to watch as he navigated the park with his usual flair. His expression was focused as he finished whatever errand had delayed him. You leaned back further, cigarette perched lazily between your fingers, content to let him finish his business before approaching him.

The two of you had met as guards in a sick, twisted game designed to bleed people dry for the amusement of the elite. Starting out as a lowly Worker, you two slowly climbed the ranks—first a Soldier, then finally a Manager. It wasn’t common for guards to bond, no. Trust was scarce in a world built on deception and survival, yet somehow, Ji-cheol had cracked through your armor. Maybe it was his sharp wit, or the way he could read you like an open book, but whatever it was, you found yourself gravitating toward him.

Just as you were about to take another drag of your cigarette, you noticed something unusual: two men standing awkwardly at the park’s edge, their attention locked onto Ji-cheol like predators stalking prey. They weren’t subtle, either, holding up newspapers as flimsy disguises that barely hid their faces.

You cocked a brow, biting back a chuckle at their obvious act. Amateurs. Still, their presence made your senses sharpen.

Your attention shifted back to Ji-cheol just in time to see him come to a halt in the park’s center. He looked at the bags in his hands, before dropping its contents to the ground with deliberate carelessness. One by one, he stomped on the bread he’d been carrying, flattening each loaf under polished shoes.

You’d seen him do it before—hell, you’d done it yourself—but something about the way he carried out the task tonight was different. There was a certain sharpness in his movements, an edge that hinted at more than just routine. Was he putting on a show for the two men who were watching him, or was this his way of venting the frustrations of the day? 

Either way, you couldn’t deny that he looked downright intoxicating as he stood there—his jaw clenched tight, shoulders tense with barely contained aggression, and his eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. The raw power in his posture was magnetic, and you felt a jolt of lust rush through you at the sight.

You smirked, taking in the scene. Slowly, you stood, your movements deliberate as you reached for your suitcase. You tossed the cigarette to the ground, watching it fall with the finality of a decision made, before crushing it under your heel with a swift, confident stomp.

With a casual flick of your wrist, you brushed yourself off, smoothing your clothes. Then, you gave a small wave, your fingers barely lifting, but the motion was enough to catch Ji-cheol’s attention. His gaze snapped to yours instantly, the fire of the moment in his eyes briefly shifting to something more focused, more intent. He stomped on the pile of wasted bread one last time, before fixing himself and walking in your direction.

“Good day, [Name]. How are you? Have you finished your rounds?” he asked with a smile, his tone formal, almost mechanical.

You rolled your eyes and stepped closer, brushing back a stray lock of his hair and fixing it with a familiarity that always seemed to catch him off guard. “Drop the formalities, Ji-cheol. It’s me,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

His posture eased, the stiffness leaving his shoulders as he allowed himself to relax in your presence. “To answer your question, yeah, I’ve finished my rounds. It was a fast day for me.”

“Is that so?” he replied, his tone warmer now. But as his eyes landed on the swelling on your cheek, his smile faltered. Concern flickered across his face. “That mark wasn’t on your pretty little face before. Trouble today?”

You let out a soft laugh, dropping your hand from his hair. “This? It’s nothing. Just a parting gift from my last client—a pregnant girl scammed by her ex’s fake cryptocurrency. She was better than I expected, though. Won more rounds than me.”

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Did she really win more, or did you let her? I know you, [Name]. You find pleasure in pain—don’t even try denying it.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to an alluring murmur, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear. “Oh, Ji-cheol, pain is only a pleasure when it’s coming from you. You should know that by now.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and a slow, rich chuckle escaped his lips. “Careful, [Name],” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his hand brushing against your lower back. “You keep teasing me like that, and I might just test your theory.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into a sly smirk. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly, challenging him.

His lips quirked upward, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’d be surprised at what I can deliver,” he said, his voice dropping a notch.

Before the tension could spiral further, you stepped back abruptly, breaking the moment with a grin. Turning on your heel, you called over your shoulder with playful finality, “Come on. I’m done for the day, and I need a drink—or at least a cigarette that doesn’t taste like stress.”

Ji-cheol let out a chuckle before falling into step beside you, his presence a constant heat at your side. As you walked, a flicker of curiosity tugged at you, and you subtly turned your head to check for any sign of the two men from earlier. But before you could get a proper look, Ji-cheol’s hand reached out, firm but controlled, gently turning your face forward again.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low and calm, though there was an edge of authority beneath it. “I know what you saw—I saw them too. Just keep walking like a good girl. Let them think we’re clueless about their little act.”

His fingers lingered for a moment before he let go, stepping ahead of you to hail a cab. The gesture was quick, efficient, and almost as if he’d done this a hundred times before.

When the taxi rolled to a stop, Ji-cheol turned back to you with a grin that was equal parts mischief and charm. “After you,” he said, his tone teasing as he bowed dramatically. He even went so far as to open the door for you, gesturing with exaggerated politeness like a chauffeur entertaining a particularly important client.

You played along, rolling your eyes but stepping into character anyway. “Why thank you, good sir,” you said with a mock curtsey, gathering the hem of your imaginary skirt as you slipped into the cab.

Ji-cheol followed closely behind, settling in beside you as the driver glanced over his shoulder. “Where to?” he asked, his tone flat, his gaze flicking between the two of you in the rearview mirror.

Saying a quick thank-you to the cab driver, you followed Ji-cheol into a narrow alleyway. The quiet buzz of the city surrounded you, but your attention was on your co-worker’s back as he strode ahead.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Wanna play a quick game? Whoever guesses why those clowns are following us treats the other to dinner.”

Ji-cheol cast a glance over his shoulder, one brow arched in confusion.

“What? It’s a good pastime, no?” you added, shrugging. “Humor me a bit!”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he turned a corner. You followed close behind, your grin fading as the sound of hurried footsteps behind you grew louder.

“Hey, you two! Stop!”

“Stop right there!”

Ji-cheol didn’t respond, instead quickening his pace. But you could hear it in his voice when he muttered, “Idiots.”

The chase ended when Ji-cheol led you into a dead-end alley. He stopped abruptly, spinning around with a calmness that felt almost unsettling, while you turned to face your pursuers. They were close now—two men, one in a dark blue shirt and the other in red, both with the kind of looks that screamed trouble.

“Well, well,” you said, tossing your briefcase from one hand to the other. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some company. Lucky us.”

Ji-cheol didn’t say a word. He simply adjusted his grip on his own briefcase, his eyes narrowing in calculation.

The men didn’t waste time, rushing toward you with the reckless aggression of people who thought they had the upper hand. Big mistake.

You locked your focus on the man in the dark blue shirt, narrowing your eyes as you sidestepped his first swing with practiced precision. The moment his fist whizzed past you, you didn’t waste a second. Your briefcase swung through the air, connecting with his ribs with a satisfying thud. He grunted in pain, stumbling back, and you let out a small, mocking laugh.

"Hey, handsome," you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery. "You should really think twice before picking a fight with us. I’m a sucker for a challenge. But..." You grinned wickedly, dodging another wild punch as you leaned back. "...I’ve got a thing for aggressive men, you know? My type."

The man’s face twisted in frustration and fury. His lips curled, and he spat, “Shut up, you bitch!”

You grinned even wider. "Ooh, getting personal, huh?" you teased, barely dodging another wide swing. “You should take me to bed and that’s where I’ll show you how much of a bitch I can be…”

Your dirty quip was abruptly interrupted when the man unexpectedly grabbed your arm, twisting it painfully. You winced as a sharp jolt of pain shot through your body, forcing you to drop your grip on the briefcase. The metallic clatter of it hitting the ground echoed in your ears.

"Hey! That’s expensive, dumbass!" you snapped, frustration flaring. You wrenched your arm free, trying to shake him off, but his grip was firm.

Before you could fully react, the man kicked your briefcase, sending it sliding towards Ji-cheol, who was tangled in his own fight with the man in red. The sound of metal scraping across the concrete grated on your nerves, a surge of irritation washing over you. That briefcase was yours—nothing was going to ruin it, not even this asshole.

You didn't hesitate. In a flash, your foot shot out, landing a perfect kick right into his shin. He yelped in pain, releasing your arm as he staggered backward. You wasted no time. With a burst of energy, you shoved him hard into the wall behind him. His back collided with a pile of scrap materials with a satisfying thud, the sound reverberating through your body.

You stood tall, brushing off your clothes with an air of nonchalance. As you bent down to retrieve your briefcase, your attention shifted for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of metal—a glint of something sharp catching the light. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized what it was.

The man in the red shirt had drawn a knife. Worse, he was heading straight for Ji-cheol, the blade aimed directly at his back.

“Ji—” you started, your voice cutting through the tension, but your warning was abruptly cut off as something hard slammed into the side of your head.

The world tilted violently. A burst of blinding pain exploded through your skull, and you staggered, your vision blurring. You brought a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, but your legs felt weak. Through your dazed vision, you saw him—a cruel grin on his face, the bloodied stone still gripped in his hand.

Before you could do anything, he struck again, the stone connecting with your skull with a sickening crunch. Pain blossomed across your face, and your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crumpling to the ground. Darkness rapidly encroached upon your vision, and the last thing you registered was the faint, mocking sound of his laughter as everything went black.

Ji-cheol’s eyes snapped to you the moment your body hit the pavement, the sickening thud reverberating in the air. His heart hammered in his chest as his gaze locked onto the sight of you: crumpled on the ground, limp, with blood trickling from a wound on your head. His breath caught in his throat. The man in blue, still standing over you, clutching the stone with a sick grin on his face, and the man in red, knife gleaming, were the last things he needed to process before his instincts took over.

Without thinking, his body moved with a kind of ferocity that stunned even him. His muscles tensed, adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him feel like a machine, unstoppable and unrelenting.

In an instant, he spun around, his hand flying out to disarm the red-shirted man. The knife wrenched from the man’s hand with brutal efficiency, and he followed up with a lightning-fast blow to his temple. The man collapsed instantly, crumpling like a ragdoll, out cold before he even hit the ground.

After dealing with him, Ji-cheol's gaze shifted to the man in dark blue standing with the bloody stone in his hand, looking as if he were ready to take another swing at you.

And that was the last thing he would allow.

He closed the distance in two strides, his fist launching toward the man’s jaw, a punch so hard that the stone slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground uselessly. Without hesitation, His fists continued their brutal onslaught. He delivered blow after calculated blow, his knuckles connecting with the man’s ribs, and face, each hit precise and unforgiving. The man in dark blue crumpled, gasping for breath, barely able to comprehend what had happened to him before another punch landed, and he slumped unconscious to the ground.

Once he was sure that the two were passed out, Ji-cheol immediately dropped to his knees beside you, the panic rising in his chest. Seeing you like this, the blood marring your face—it felt like a punch to his gut. His stomach churned, nausea rising with each passing second as guilt seethed through him like poison.

He reached out with trembling hands, carefully wiping the blood from your face, his fingers lingering on your features, brushing along your jaw and hairline. The blood made it worse—it made everything worse.

His thoughts crashed into him like waves. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known this was a bad idea, that taking you into this mess had been a mistake. He should’ve canceled the hangout, he should’ve protected you better. But here you were—hurt, unconscious, vulnerable—and it was his fault. Every pained breath you took, every soft exhale he could hear, was a reminder of how badly he had failed you.

“Damn it, [Name],” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with guilt and frustration. His hands moved to gently tilt your head, checking for signs of serious injury. You were breathing, thank God. But the blood on your face made him feel like he was drowning.

His fingers hovered near your lips, then slid down your neck, checking for a pulse. Steady. A little too fast, but steady. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

As he sat there beside you, his body still trembling with adrenaline, something cold and hard settled in the pit of his stomach. The scene around him—the violence, the bloodshed—it was all becoming a blur. There was only one thing that mattered now, and that was you.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, just kneeling beside you, watching for any signs of life, his mind racing. All he could think about was how much he had to make this right. He couldn’t lose you—not like this. Not because of his own damn mistakes.

“It’s been a long time, Mr. Seong Gi-hun.”

Ji-cheol’s voice carried a calmness that felt unnervingly detached, but his words were deliberate, each syllable measured. He stood with an air of nonchalance, a drink dangling loosely in his hand, as if the weight of the situation didn’t faze him in the slightest.

Gi-hun’s sharp gaze fixed on him, his face a mixture of anger and suspicion. Ji-cheol stepped aside slightly, revealing the passed-out figure slumped in one of the chairs behind him. Gi-hun’s eyes immediately darted to them, worry flashing across his features as he took in the bandaged state of their face.

The sight unsettled him. Like a caring father, he instinctively wanted to rush forward, to check if they were alright, to ensure they were still breathing. But he stopped himself, forcing his feet to remain planted as he redirected his focus to the man standing in front of him.

“I hope you don’t mind another visitor,” Ji-cheol added with a faint smirk, watching Gi-hun’s reaction with mild amusement. “Anyways, you should’ve gotten on that plane.” 

Gi-hun’s hands curled into fists as he turned back toward the towel he’d been using to dry his hair, his movements slow and deliberate. “I changed my mind when I saw you,” he said, voice low and simmering with anger.

With an approving nod, Ji-cheol tossed his now-empty can into the trash with a casual flick of his wrist. It clanged loudly, the sound echoing in the tense silence. He gestured toward a map pinned to the wall, annotated with markings and notes, pointing at it with his revolver as if he were holding a pointer in a lecture.

“It looks like you’ve been trying hard to find me,” He remarked, his tone laced with mock praise, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the map.

“I wanted to thank you.”

The words made Ji-cheol stop mid-motion, his head snapping toward Gi-hun. He blinked, genuinely taken aback, before narrowing his eyes. “Thank me?” he repeated, the disbelief dripping from his voice.

Gi-hun stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. His movements were calm, but there was an undercurrent of malice in every step. Ji-cheol noticed it immediately—the tension in the way Gi-hun carried himself, the suppressed fury barely held in check.

“For inviting me to the game,” Gi-hun said, his voice tight and edged with bitterness. He settled into one of the empty chairs, sitting across from Ji-cheol. The anger burning in his eyes completely contradicted the words spilling from his mouth. “I won. I made it out with a fortune. The decent thing to do would be to thank you for it.” He dragged out the words, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Ji-cheol chuckled softly, a hollow, humorless sound. He leaned back against the table, swirling the liquid in his glass before looking at Gi-hun with feigned delight. “I, no— we—are just messengers who deliver invitations,” he replied smoothly, as if dismissing the very weight of the accusation.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched as he turned his gaze back to the unconscious figure. The sight of them, bandaged and vulnerable, only seemed to stoke the fire in his chest. He whipped his head back to Ji-cheol, his voice firm and unwavering. “Who had you deliver those invitations? Let me meet him. I have something to say.”

Ji-cheol’s face didn’t change, his expression neutral. “Give me the message,” he said casually, his tone as smooth as silk, “and I’ll pass it along.”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as his voice grew sharper. “It’s not something I can discuss with an underling like you.”

For the first time, Ji-cheol’s expression shifted—just slightly. An eyebrow arched, and a flicker of amusement danced across his face as he tilted his head.

Gi-hun pressed on, his voice growing colder. “You prey on people who are hanging by a thread, conning them at subway stations with your pathetic games. Someone like you wouldn’t understand what I’m trying to say.”

The words struck a nerve. Ji-cheol’s smile turned razor-sharp, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. He straightened up, stepping closer to Gi-hun with calculated precision. “Mr. Seong,” he began, his voice low, the edges laced with venom. “How do you think I got to where I am now?”

“I don’t care how you became their dog,” Gi-hun spat back, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with anger. “Bring me your master. Now.”

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Ji-cheol’s grip tightened slightly, his knuckles whitening as he stared down at the man in front of him. The tension crackled between them like a live wire, each word loaded with unspoken challenges.

But he didn’t break. Instead, he calmed himself down, his lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Mr. Seong,” he said coolly, his tone almost taunting. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Gi-hun’s glare didn’t waver. The air between them was thick with unspoken threats, the weight of their animosity pressing down like a storm waiting to break.

You didn’t know what had happened. One moment, you were grappling with the two men who had been tailing you and Ji-cheol, your pulse pounding in your ears as you threw every ounce of strength into your movements. The world had been chaotic, filled with sharp grunts, the scrape of shoes on concrete, and Ji-cheol’s distant voice cutting through the noise. Then, just as suddenly as the fight had started, everything had gone dark.

Now, consciousness crept back slowly, each sensation arriving in fragments. Your head throbbed, a deep ache that pulsed in time with your uneven breathing. Your body felt heavy, as though weighed down by something unseen, and your surroundings were a muddle of indistinct sounds and shadows. Somewhere nearby, a voice pierced through the haze—clear, calm, and chillingly familiar.

“Let’s play a game,” You hear Ji-cheol say, his voice unnervingly casual. The words broke through the thick, suffocating silence, pulling you from the disorientation. Your senses sharpened, snapping into focus as you locked onto the sound of his voice. Slowly, other details began to bleed into your awareness, each one clearer than the last. A faint melody lingered in the air, haunting, delicate, a melody that sent a shiver down your spine. The tune grew clearer with every passing second, and then it hit you—Time to Say Goodbye by Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman. One of your favorites. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in the movies,” He continued, his voice floating through the tension of the room. There was no urgency in his words, no thrill of danger—only a casual amusement. It was as if he were describing a mere game, a joke, instead of a life-or-death scenario. “It’s called Russian Roulette.”

The unmistakable click of the revolver’s cylinder spinning sliced through the thick air, sharp and metallic. It was the kind of sound that clawed at your insides. The revolver clicked again, a sound that seemed louder, more pronounced in the silence of the room. Ji-cheol’s voice returned, light and nonchalant. “Usually, you load one bullet, spin the cylinder, and…”

You dared to open your eyes just a crack, curious on what was happening. What you didn’t expect was your gaze being met with the barrel of the revolver, inches away from your face. A rush of anger surged through you, sharp and electric. The nerve of this bastard. 

Across the room, Gi-hun stirred. You could hear him, his breath ragged and loud. He moved forward, instinctively, as though to intervene, to stop Ji-cheol, but his feet faltered. He paused, his whole body tight with tension. His eyes locked onto the weapon, his posture rigid. 

“Hey—” Gi-hun’s voice cracked, faltering under the pressure. “Don’t do this—”

Ji-cheol silenced him with a smoothness that only made the threat more chilling. His voice slipped through the air like silk, but it carried an edge that cut deep. “...And pull the trigger.”

The sound of the revolver’s cylinder clicking into place reverberated around the room. Ji-cheol’s finger tightened on the trigger, and for a split second, the world seemed to freeze. 

Your eyes remained steady, focused, determined. Your pulse quickened, but you forced it into submission, grounding yourself in the stillness of the moment.

Click.

The sound was deafening in its emptiness, an echo that reverberated in your skull, louder than any bullet could ever be. The revolver hadn’t discharged. Ji-cheol lowered the revolver with a smirk, his gaze flicking between you and Gi-hun. His movements were unhurried, his demeanor calm, as though this had been nothing more than an amusing game. 

“And before the next round,” Ji-cheol said smoothly, the revolver spinning in his hand with a sharp flick of his wrist, “you spin it to reset the odds back to one in six.”

The metallic click of the cylinder spinning reverberated through the air, the sound sharp against the eerie backdrop of soft music. It was a calculated move, each spin designed to remind everyone in the room of what was at stake. Ji-cheol’s grin stretched wider as he leaned back, as if savoring the power he held.

Gi-hun’s face was carefully neutral, but his body betrayed him. His jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought his teeth might crack, and his fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the edge of the table. He exuded frustration and unease, barely restrained beneath his calm facade.

“But,” Ji-cheol continued, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with malice, “I like to make the game a little more interesting.” His tone was playful, almost conversational, but the words carried a sinister edge. “Because you’re special, Mr. Seong.”

“Cut to the chase,” Gi-hun snapped, his voice hard and brimming with irritation. He was done playing along, his patience stretched to its limit.

The salesman chuckled, low and mocking, clearly reveling in the tension that crackled in the room. He thrived on it, his grin widening as though Gi-hun’s defiance only added to his amusement. “Fine,” he said, the word drawn out, almost lazy. “We’ll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over. What do you say?”

For a moment, silence stretched taut, the weight of Ji-cheol’s words pressing down like a physical force. Gi-hun hesitated, you could see the gears turning in his head, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The hesitation was brief, but it felt eternal. After a while gave a sharp nod. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice tight, his resolve brittle but intact.

“Wonderful.” Ji-cheol’s tone was dripping with delight as he placed the revolver in the center of the table. The polished metal gleamed under the dim light, catching your eye like a predator’s snarl. With another flick of his wrist, he sent the revolver spinning.

It slowed, the barrel’s alignment seemingly random until it stopped. The revolver’s menacing end pointed directly at Gi-hun.

Gi-hun’s hand moved toward the gun with a reluctant slowness, as if even touching it might curse him. His fingers trembled when they wrapped around the handle, and he lifted it with a carefulness usually reserved for handling fragile, dangerous things.

The room felt smaller as he raised the revolver to his temple, the weight of the weapon mirrored by the crushing silence that followed. His breaths came quick and shallow, each inhale louder than the last as he steadied his hand. The barrel pressed into his skin, a cold kiss of steel. He hesitated, his knuckles white as his grip tightened.

Just pull it, get it over with. You could almost hear the mantra running through his mind, though the beads of sweat rolling down his temple betrayed the fear he tried to mask.

Finally, with a sharp intake of breath, He squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The sound was deafening in the stillness, a hollow, empty note that echoed in your chest. Gi-hun released a shaky exhale, his body sagging slightly as relief flooded through him. For a brief moment, the gun felt lighter as he carefully set it back on the table, as though handling a venomous snake.

Ji-cheol didn’t wait. The second Gi-hun’s hand left the revolver, he snatched it up, his grin unwavering. He pressed the barrel to his temple with none of the reluctance Gi-hun had shown, but there was something in his movements—subtle, fleeting—that contradicts with his confidence. His hand trembled just slightly as he adjusted the weapon, his knuckles tightening.

He took a long, measured breath, his cocky grin faltering for a brief moment as a flicker of uncertainty passed over his features. Then, with an almost feral determination, he pulled the trigger.

Click.

The sound hung in the air like a thunderclap, Ji-cheol’s shoulders visibly relaxing as his grin returned, sharp and triumphant. He laughed softly, the sound devoid of any real humor, before setting the revolver back in the center of the table. His gaze flicked to Gi-hun, and his eyes were practically alight with sadistic glee.

Gi-hun’s expression tightened, it was his turn again. As his hand started inching toward the revolver, Ji-cheol raised a hand suddenly, halting him mid-motion.

“Wait,” He said, his voice lilting with a mockery that sent a chill down your spine. His gaze shifted—predatory and deliberate—landing squarely on you.

“[Name], would you like to join us?”

Ah. Ever the gentleman.

A low groan escaped your lips as you finally stopped your act, breaking the stillness with a deliberate slowness. Your head throbbed as you shifted upright, every movement calculated, every second drawn out. Gi-hun’s gaze landed on you with a mixture of disbelief and shock, his mouth parting as though to ask how long you’d been awake.

You met his eyes with a faint, sardonic smile, dipping your head in acknowledgment. “How thoughtful of you, Ji-cheol…” you murmured, your voice light but edged with mockery.

You didn’t wait for anyone to respond. Your hand reached for the revolver on the table with a startling calmness, fingers curling around its weighty grip. The tension in the room thickened, every breath measured and shallow as you lifted the weapon.

The barrel’s cold steel kissed your temple, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Your heart raced, the adrenaline flooding your veins almost intoxicating. Was it courage or recklessness driving you? You couldn’t tell, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the here and now—the sharp, electric rush that drowned out everything else.

Your finger tightened on the trigger.

Click.

The empty sound was deafening, a hollow echo that filled the room. Your breath slipped out, slow and steady, though you weren’t sure if it was relief or something far darker that made your chest feel so tight.

Lowering the gun slightly, you glanced at Ji-cheol. The edges of your lips quirked upward, your expression sharp, your voice cutting through the silence with quiet venom. “... Allow me to return the favor,” you said.

Before anyone could stop you, your finger pulled the trigger once more.

Click.

The second dry sound rang louder than the first, and you felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. Gi-hun’s voice erupted in the stillness, a harsh, disbelieving shout. “Are you insane?!”

His words crashed into you, but they were distant, unimportant. Your focus stayed locked on Ji-cheol, and the smirk plastered across his face. It had widened—twisted with something primal, something that mirrored his love for chaos.

But as you shifted the gun in your hand, as the barrel turned from yourself to your lovely coworker, the room seemed to shift. Ji-cheol’s composure faltered, his smirk flickering like a flame about to die. The odds had changed, and now they were against him.

For the first time, his confidence wavered.

“Come on, Ji-cheol,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock affection. The words rolled off your tongue with an ease that felt unnatural, but the thrill of the moment made it all too satisfying. “Don’t tell me you’re scared now?”

For the first time, the salesman hesitated. His usual cocky demeanor faltered, the confident smirk slipping away as doubt crept into his eyes. Was this how it ended for him? Was he about to face the cold reality that he had pushed things too far?

His gaze fixed on you, wide and searching. You could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, but there was no escape. Your words had hit him where it hurt. The balance of power had shifted, and he could feel it. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn’t experienced with you before.

“What’s the matter?” You pressed, your voice now almost playful, but laced with venom. You could see the shock in his eyes, the disbelief that you—someone he thought he knew—had turned the tables in such an intimate, dangerous way.

He stared at you, mouth agape, unable to form words. His breath quickened, chest rising and falling, as if trying to figure out how to respond. Slowly, you stood up, each motion deliberate, your legs aching from the stillness. But the tension, the palpable charge between you two, made your body feel alive.

In all honesty, you were annoyed. Your day has already been a mess, from the last heated match to the delay in the promised hangout to the injury that will definitely cause weeks to heal from. You just wanted peace—just a moment to collect yourself. But instead, here you were, playing this twisted game because of your annoying coworker. 

You moved closer to him, your presence towering over him in a way that felt almost suffocating. With a push of your hand, his back hit the cold wall with a thud. The barrel of the gun remained unwavering, still aimed to his face, as you maneuvered yourself closer, your body brushing against his with precision.

One leg was planted firmly on the ground while the other was pressed between his legs, the proximity undeniable, intense, and erotic. You could feel the heat of his body beneath your fingertips, the tension radiating from both of you. Your breath was shallow now, your senses heightened in ways that made you almost dizzy. You leaned closer to him, your mouth dangerously near his, your lips only inches apart. Your breath mingled, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

Then, using the barrel of the gun, you tilted his head back slightly, forcing his mouth open just enough for you to slip the cold steel inside. Below you, Ji-cheol's body started to shake, and you felt it. The tremor in his form wasn’t just from fear. There was something else there—something deeper, primal, as if the situation was pushing both of you to the edge of something neither of you could fully comprehend.

The power was in your hands now.

A part of you reveled in it—how easy it was to rattle him, to strip away the confident exterior. But that other part of you, the part that longed for release from the mess of emotions you were drowning in, just wanted it to be over.

You pulled the trigger, the sharp sound of the click ringing in your ears, and for a moment, everything went still.

Click.

It was a dud.

The tension broke, but only for a moment. Your gaze immediately snapped towards Gi-hun. The final bullet was in play, and you could feel the man's eyes burning into the back of your neck. His hands trembled violently, his whole body shaking with anticipation, fear, and death.

Without removing yourself from Ji-cheol, you extended your arm out, offering the revolver to Gi-hun, expecting him to take it and end it all. To live up to the end of his deal. However, any possibility of that happening changed when his wide-eyed stare locked with yours, and you saw the raw terror in them—something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t just afraid of the situation, but of you.

“What's wrong, Mr. Seong?” you asked, keeping your voice calm, though there was a sharpened edge to it now. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to speak but faltered. His lips parted, then pressed together tightly, as if wrestling with the storm of emotions raging inside him. You could feel his hesitation thickening the air between you both, a heavy tension that pushed you closer to the brink. Finally, he stood, his anger spilling over, his voice rising. 

“You’re insane!” he snapped. “If you hadn’t pulled the trigger twice— if we followed the damn order, you would be the last one to shoot. You’re the one who’s supposed to die!”

The words hit you like a slap. It was true after all. But his fury, his concern—it didn’t matter. You were the one who risked it, and you were the one who will be rewarded. The game had already ended, and there was no turning back now. His words, even if they were meant to stop you, only served to push you further, deepening the anger seeping in your chest.

“And you think that’s my fault?” you said, voice cold as ice, your gaze never wavering from his. The words stung, but you didn't flinch. “You think I give a damn about that?”

Without warning, you aimed the revolver at him and fired. The final click rang out, breaking the heavy silence with cold, brutal finality.

The room held its breath. Gi-hun’s body jerked once, his wide eyes still locked onto yours in disbelief as the realization hit him. His legs gave way, and he collapsed, blood beginning to pool beneath him. There was no more struggle, no more fight. Just the soft, final exhale of his breath, leaving the world in silence.

Below you, the voice of your coworker pierced the thick air, a low murmur in your ear. “Well done, [Name].”

You turned to him. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something darker, more dangerous—something like admiration, but tinged with something possessive.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, like a tangible pressure. The heat between your bodies simmered, an undeniable force that threatened to pull you closer. You didn’t need to say anything, because at that moment, everything was clear between you two.

“Really?” you said, your voice lowered in a husky sultry tone, as if you were challenging him. Your fingers tightened around the revolver, the weight of it no longer heavy, but oddly comforting.

Without a word, Ji-cheol moved with swift precision. One moment, you were standing tall, the next, his hands were beside your head, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath catch in your throat. 

“Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, [Name],” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, but there was something else in it now—a layer of hunger, an edge that felt almost possessive.

Slowly—as if to test him—you raised the revolver to your lips, your eyes never leaving his. Ji-cheol watched with intensity as you seductively sucked on the gun's barrel. His eyes trailed down, watching as saliva began dripping on your hand as you swirl your tongue around the barrel with such intensity that he wished you were doing it to him instead.

Watching his throat constrict as he swallowed deeply and feeling his bulge harden on your thigh. You pulled the gun out your mouth with a satisfying pop before throwing it to the ground. Without wasting any time, Ji-cheol immediately grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. And instead of hurt, his touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. 

He placed his knee up against your crotch—the action earning a low, hungry moan from you—before using his free hand to pull your body closer to him, his hard bulge colliding with your thigh. Ji-cheol released a low, and drawn-out moan before leaning in closer, his breath, which was just a hair away from your lips, was weak and warm—full of yearning and lust.

“You’re playing with fire, and I can’t promise you won’t get burned,” he murmured, the words dripping with an unsettling mix of desire and threat.

The heat in his voice made your pulse quicken in excitement. Your body responded to the proximity, to the rawness of the moment. Every inch of you was alive, and Ji-cheol, for all his calm control, couldn’t hide the dark hunger in his gaze. You could see it, feel it, as though it were an invisible thread pulling you together.

For a fleeting moment, it was almost as if the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just you, Ji-cheol, and the dangerous, magnetic pull between you both. With his lips hovered just inches from yours, you knew this was the moment that would change everything between you two.

[boopjuice]

@bluerosefox you have twisted my arm by giving me motivation to follow through on some ideas. Hope you enjoy this part

The logistics talk had to wait. Danny got a call from his parents, and it seemed to panic him because he immediately handed the phone back to the first person who'd had it. Dick thought his name was Tucker, is the second voice was to be believed.

"Sorry about that," the young voice said into the phone. "It's better for Danny to answer that, the last thing we want is for the Fenton's to not be able to get a hold of him and end up creating another world ending- I mean, they'll, uh, break down Sam's door! Yeah, because they're looking for him. Because he wasn't home at a normal time."

Well, if the others were as terrible liars as Tucker was, then there wouldn't be much of a problem figuring out who these people were. Not that there was going to be much of one anyway, considering how bored Tim looked typing away on his laptop.

"Sure. I get it. Overbearing parents can be a nightmare," Dick responded, ignoring the small look B sent his way. "I take it he still lives at home?"

"I mean, I guess we all do? We don't really have much of another choice."

"Danny mentioned school schedules. Are you all students?" Kori asked. Her grip on his shoulder had relaxed significantly since hearing their daughter's voice, and it showed in her speech too.

"Well, yeah."

"I see. What college do you go to?"

"College? I mean, I really want to get into MIT, but I'd settle for-" Tucker let out a pained huff on the other end, like someone had just hit him. There was a furious whisper session, possibly muffed behind a hand, before Tucker came back on the line.

"So, uh, Mar'i said you were a cop?"

Dick had the advantage of being a Bat almost his whole life, or he would have missed how the whole family perked up at the mention of wanting to go to college. Paired with the young voices and living at home, these kids couldn't have been out of high school yet.

"Yeah, a detective. But you managed to get a hold of my personal phone number less than three hours after my daughter went missing, so I assume you know at least that much."

"Oh, uh, well I- we! We have a, um... a really good... social media stalking method!" Dick heard Steph and Tim stifle laughs. He thought he heard a "Seriously, Tuck?" come through the line, too.

"I was better at deception by the time I was six," Damian whispered with a scowl that mirrored Bruce's. He'd bet money that the scowl was mostly genetic. It was kind of cute, how the two looked so much alike.

Aunty Ri-ri. Why had that kid, Dan, said that? There was no way Mar'i had any relation to him, and he'd be willing to bet that she definitely looked different enough that mistaking her as a relative wouldn't be an option.

There was your amnesia year, he thinks, and it twists his stomach into knots. Who knows what happened? Certainly not you.

"Perhaps we could begin to discuss how we could pick our daughter up? It sounds as though my husband needs to speak to your friend. When is a good time to meet?" Kori spoke up.

"Well, that's sort of... we'd have to do some coordinating with a few people. You know, because of club meetings and stuff! Danny's really involved in local clubs."

There was more scuffling over the phone, and Time tapped Dick's shoulder as the group waited for the two teens on the other side to stop fighting.

"The call's coming from the house of the Manson family. New socialites, so they don't have a lot of connections yet. They definitely try, though. They have a child, one Samantha Manson. I'm working on finding her connection to Danny and Tucker."

Dick nodded, turning back toward the phone as the female voice from earlier, Sam, began speaking.

"Danny's going to need too do the talking about logistics. He'd have to get away from his parents and clubs, but it might help when he gets back if he knows when some good times to meet you and your husband are."

"Of course. Richard, when do you think you can get time off so we can get Mar'i?"

"I can cover his patrol for a night if it runs long," Jason volunteered, and Dick really hoped that wouldn't be necessary. Jason pretending to be him would no doubt be the best time for his younger brother to set up some pranks that he'd rather avoid right after getting his daughter.

"No," B shut down. "Nightwing can ask one of the Titans to cover for him. If they all turn him down then you'll cover for him."

"I can call the captain. I might be able to get tomorrow off, but the day after's more likely. How long do you think the conversation's going to take? It'll be easier to set up a time if I know how long to expect to be gone."

"I can't give you a good estimate. But I would plan for a minimum of two hours."

"Alright. I'll ask the chief as soon as this call is done."

"Sounds good. The sooner we can get her home the better."

"You said it," Danny said. His voice was distant, and tired. "They still on the phone?"

"Yep," Sam said. There was a whooshing sound, and then a thunk. Sam had tossed Danny the phone, as evidenced by his now much clearer voice.

"Sorry about that. My parents wanted me to stop by for dinner with the frui- my godfather. They can be hard to get off my back about stuff to do with him. Anyway, we were about to discuss picking up Mar'i?"

Dick, Kori, and Danny ironed out details as best they could, agreeing to call each other in an hour with answers about getting out of their responsibilities elsewhere. Danny had sounded caught off guard when Dick brought up getting out of clubs, just solidifying that Tucker was lying on the spot.

Once he ended the call and texted his captain to ask for the following day off to get Mar'i he finally took in his family again. Bruce was busy supervising Damian digging through school files to look up Samantha Manson, but Tim was staring at his laptop in shock. As if that wasn't bad enough, Jason was standing behind Tim, also staring in shock.

"What? What did you find? Is she in danger?"

"No," Tim said. "But... Well, I think I know why Danny wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

"You're going to wanna see for yourself, Dickwing," Jason said, plucking the laptop off Tim's lap, much to his displeasure, and handing it to Dick.

Tim had successfully found Samantha Manson's social media accounts, as well as those of the two people on the phone. Tucker Foley and Daniel Fenton were the two most tagged people in Manson's posts, and featured in several photos.

Quick scans showed that the three appeared to be romantically involved, having been close friends since early middle school. In the past several years there were few photos of Danny, and photos with him in them often had him blurred, even if the rest of the image was clear.

Thankfully, Tim already had a picture of the boy from what must have been their freshman year pulled up. The three were posed in front of Casper high, which must be their high school. Tucker, to the far left, was smiling wide, an arm wrapped around Samantha, who stood in the middle. She would have looked bored, save for the small smile on her face and the way her arms wrapped around Tucker and Danny's shoulders.

And Danny...

Dick understood why Tim and Jason were so shocked. He doubted anything could have prepared him to seeing his own face staring back at him through the screen.

He heard Kori gasp as she looked over his shoulder, and it was everything he could do to not drop the computer. Danny Fenton had his dark hair, his eyes, his cheeks, and the start of his build. At least, he had in early high school.

"That was the most recent clear photo I've managed to find of him," Time said. "I tried using the image sharpening software, but it never turned out anything recognizable."

"Bruce..."

His father was behind him in a moment. He could feel the man's hesitation as he saw the photo, before he took the laptop and set it down.

"I... I have..."

"We don't know for certain," he said, turning Dick so they were facing one another. "We need to get more information. DNA, school records, birth certificates. But, if it turns out he is, how do you want to handle it?"

How did he want to handle it? He might have a son that he'd never gotten to even meet. That he was planning to go meet in the next few days. He had no idea how he wanted to handle it.

"We should finish deciding how we will be getting Mar'i home first," Kori said, slipping her hand into his own and giving it a squeeze.

"Yeah. The kid, Dan... He called Mar'i Aunty, and Danny didn't correct him. Which means they either strongly suspect a relation, or they know for certain. If I had to guess, that's why they want to talk.

"Don't think that just because Fenton may have some kind of blood relation to you that he can be brought into the fold immediately, Richard," Damian said. "I am more than capable of besting him should he try to take the mantle of Robin."

"I'm not going to tell him, Dami," he reassured his youngest brother. "Besides, I doubt he'd want to get wrapped up with our nightlife. He's clearly got his own normal life, I don't want to take that away from him."

~~~

Danny was going to kill Tucker. Since when had Danny ever been in any clubs? Now he'd have to come up with clubs to talk about if his maybe bio-dad asked about them. Sure, it'd be a little difficult since both of his partners were as liminal as Jazz, if not more by now, but he'd find a way.

After he contacted the Observants and made sure his usual band of rogues and friends left him alone for a week. Just in case his maybe dad (he had to come up with a better title) couldn't make it tomorrow or the day after.

Ancients, this was going to be such a hassle.

He'd probably meet outside of city limits anyway, just for an extra layer of security. If any ghosts decided to attack against his orders while his... while Dick was here, he wanted him as far away from the fight as possible. No point endangering him and Mar'i any more than necessary. Plus, they weren't Amity natives, ghosts wouldn't probably freak him and Mar'i out, not to mention Dick's wife.

Who was, apparently, an alien.

He hadn't thought about that really until just now. He could already feel the questions starting to bubble up, but he pushed the curiosity down. Schedule a week of with the Observants first, meet Dick second, ask the cool alien lady every question in the universe third.

"I'm going to go talk to the Council," Danny said, tossing the phone back to Tuck. "Am I okay to leave the kids here for a while?"

"Of course. You know they listen to us more than you anyway," Sam said, walking over to give him a quick goodbye hug.

"Yeah, and I'm eternally jealous. But at least they listen to someone," he said, walking over and kissing Tucker bye before walking into the kitchen and opening a portal to the Infinite Realms.

Every time he did that, he found himself grateful that Wulf had taught him how to get back and forth without the Fenton Portal. He'd destroyed midway through his sophomore year, and they'd been trying to rebuild it ever since.

He shuddered as he thought about it, shifting into his ghost form and feeling gravity revoke its hold on him before slipping through the portal. They'd called him earlier to ask if he'd seen where they left the blueprints they'd made from memory.

He did remember, he wasn't as stupid as his report card made him look. Which was why he wasn't stupid enough not to burn the blueprints when he'd found them.

~~~

He only barely got back in time to call Dick back. He hadn't gotten a week off, like he'd hoped. But they agreed to at least restrict access to the living world for a couple days. Not ideal, but at least it was better than nothing.

"How'd it go?" Tucker asked from the kitchen. He was setting out three plates of tacos for the kids, his own and Sam's sitting near the stove.

"Not ideal. But I got the eyeballs to at least lower the chances of any attacks for a few days, so at least it's not a sharp stick in the eye."

"Ouch, only reduced? Did you bring up her being... you know," his boyfriend said, stepping over to give him a hug. Danny felt like he could melt into his arms. It was unfair how good Tuck's hugs were when he was stressed.

"Yeah. That was why they decided to restrict everything. I probably should have talked to Clockwork first, gotten some advice, but you know how time works with him. I might've come back yesterday or two weeks from now."

"I hear ya. Come on, there's time for you to enjoy a taco before we call your maybe-bio-dad back. Sam's getting the kids together, so they'll be distracted during the call."

"Thanks, Tuck. You two are the best."

"Of course we are. Now, food. You know Sam won't let you get away with not taking care of yourself."

The taco was great, and Danny had vacuumed up half of it by the time the kids flew downstairs, chattering away between the three of them as they came to the kitchen table. Dan and Ellie were in their ghost forms as they sat, and Danny had to remind them that ghost powers weren't allowed at the table to get them to return to their human forms.

The dinner was uneventful, thankfully. Dan and Ellie had been busy showing Mar'i around the house, eventually turning it into a game of hide and seek tag. Ellie had gotten into a small fight with Dan when he'd used invisibility to cheat, but nothing to large thankfully. Mar'i, thankfully, seemed to be settling in well, and the other two weren't calling her Aunty, so small mercies.

"Alright. I'm gonna go call Ri-ri's dad back. Dan, Ellie, once dinner's done get ready for bed. See if you can find anything that would fit Mar'i to sleep in."

Danny stepped into the backyard, going ghost just long enough to fly up to the roof before changing back and dialing Dick's number.

"Hello, Dick Grayson-Wayne speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hey, it's Danny."

"Oh! Hi, Danny. Um... I guess the first thing to ask is if you managed to get out of your clubs?"

"Mostly, yeah. I might get called away last minute, but hopefully that won't be happening. School's a little harder."

"Yeah, I get that. I managed to get the next two days off, so Kori and i can be there by tomorrow. I assume after school works better for you?"

"Please. Mr. Lancer's going to have my head if I miss another class this week." Shulker had decided to attack right in the middle of English. It had been halfway across the city, though, so Danny'd had to make an hour long bathroom trip. lancer had been... less than impressed with him.

"You're missing class?" Shit.

"It's not important. I just... um... We should meet outside the city!" Danny prayed Dick would just drop the skipping school angle.

"... I was going to suggest the same thing. I'd rather not risk running into paparazzi. We've managed to keep them away from Mar'i so far, and I'd like to continue that if at all possible." Thank the Ancients.

"Yeah, totally. I get that. Is your wife coming with?"

"Yes. I figured she can take Mar'i and then we can talk like you wanted to." Danny sat, leaning against one of the chimney's on the house and looking up. It was a clear night, and even if the sun hadn't set all the way yet he could see the stars.

"That sounds good. There's a small mom and pop shop right outside the city. It's got indoor and outdoor seating, whichever you prefer. I know I'd rather keep the conversation private, for both our sakes, so if we could sit there there's fewer people that would be appreciated."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Before you go, though, could I talk to Mar'i?"

"Yeah. It might take a minute to get down- to get the kids downstairs. They tend to be a bit hard to wrangle, especially when they have a friend over. I'll put you on hold."

Danny didn't wait for a response before hitting the hold button, going ghost to float to the ground before becoming human again. He strode inside, taking a deep breath before shouting for Mar'i, only to be met with three small voices, plus Sam's, yelling at him for yelling inside.

Shortly after, a stampede of two sets of feet came barreling down the stairs towards him. Mar'i was still flying, but Danny could tell that the bandages under her robot pajamas were fresh. hopefully, she would be able to walk with only minimal discomfort tomorrow.

"Woah, woah!" he said, holding the phone up. he felt the haptics that told him he'd hit a button on accident, he just had to hope that it wasn't the button to hang up.

"Dan, Ellie, it's bedtime for you two. Did you remember to brush your teeth?"

"Yes, Daddy," Ellie said, "but we wanna say hi to Au- to Ri-ri's mommy and daddy too!"

"How did you know that's- doesn't matter. It's bedtime."

"Aw, pleeeaaaassse, Daddy?" Dan said, teaming up with Ellie to give him puppy eyes.

"No. You heard your dad, it's bedtime."

"But Mama," Ellie whined, only to be met with Sam's hard stare.

"Bedtime. Mar'i Will be going to bed after she getes to talk with her parents, and I'll send Papa and Daddy up with her to tuck you in. Now, move your butts upstairs."

Dan and Ellie sulked their way upstairs, followed by Sam. She'd be back down in a few minutes after reading the four and six year olds a story and tucking them in. Which meant Mar'i would have some privacy to talk with her parents.

"Here you go Ri-ri," he said, double checking that he hadn't accidentally hung up. He hadn't, but Dick was very definitely not on hold like Danny remembered. Well, it wasn't like they'd said anything about ghosts, so it was fine.

"Stay in the living room, and then bring the phone back to me when you're done. I'm going to be in the kitchen." Mar'i was quick to snatch the phone from his hand, flying over to sit on the couch.

"Hi daddy!" he heard her say as he stepped into the kitchen to make another taco. Say what you would about Tuck, he could make a mean taco, even if they were vegetarian for Sam.

He intentionally tuned out Mar'i's voice. She, like Dan and Ellie, didn't have the best grip on volume control, especially on the phone. The conversation had nothing to do with him, so he instead busied himself looking up what he remembered from early.

Tamaranian was fairly easy, since Ri-ri had already mentioned they were a kind of alien. He found a few things about their home planet of Tamaran, power sets, and the like. Nothing struck him as too alarming or dangerous.

Which left the Joker. A quick search brought up two dozen articles, all from news sites located in Gotham. From what he could gather, the guy was a grade A wackjob. He'd killed dozens, caused significant damage to the city he lived in. He seemed to enjoy playing with lives like some kind of game.

The only reason he hadn't done more damage and hurt more people was because of someone called Batman, apparently a vigilante local to the city. Some research into him showed that he'd started as a solo hero, but had built a team that people called "The Birds" over the years. He also was apparently a part of a group called the Justice League.

He was about to do some digging into them when Mar'i ran in with the phone.

"Here you go, Mr. Danny! I'm going to go to bed now. See you tomorrow!"

"Night, Mar'i," he called after the girl rushing upstairs. he brought the phone back to his ear.

"So, I guess We'll talk tomorrow?"

"You're in high school, right?"

"Um... yeah?" Dick was quiet for a minute, enough that Danny wondered if he'd hung up.

"Ri-ri was telling me about your kids. I take it they're Miss Manson's?"

"W-what?!" he sputtered. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm a detective, Danny," Dick said. it sounded a lot like Jazz when she was explaining why it was important for him to get enough sleep. "It wasn't hard to find out that you two and Mr. Foley are involved together."

"Well, yeah, but we're not- they aren't- look, it's a long story that involves a fruitloop who was obsessed with me being his son, and I'd rather not try and explain over the phone."

"Right. Sorry, just... Sorry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Talk to you then. Night."

"Night, Danny."

Danny hung up, staring down at the phone. He'd have to see if Sam or Tucker could pick up the kids tomorrow. Oh god, how was he going to take care of Mar'i tomorrow? Well, the daycare attendant had said a while ago that she'd owe Phantom a favor for saving the daycare. Maybe he could show up early as Phantom and ask that she take care of an extra kid?

He groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. The phone smacked uncomfortably against his forehead, but he paid it no mind. He already agreed to help his parents look for those blueprints, which meant he was going to have to spend the night at home, which meant he wasn't going to sleep, which meant-

He shook himself out of his spiral. One step at a time, that's what Jazz always said. One step. Right now, the next step was to tuck in his kids and kid sister.

Right. That was a task he could manage.

Hmmm

I'm on a Danny is Dick's child kick rn so I'm making more.

But lets add in some Ghost King Danny!, Dad to a deaged Ellie and Dan! And toddler Mar'i Grayson.

Danny was conceived during Dick's amnesia year when he was Ric and the woman couldn't find him to tell him (or maybe the Owls caught wind of the pregnancy and took her) and he ended up somehow (hmmm maybe a meddling time keeper?) with the Fentons.

Danny grows as a Fenton, he knows he was adopted btw, then becomes Phantom, protects Amity, becomes the Ghost King and things seem to be going okay between Amity Parkers and the Infinite Realms since they took care of the GIW problem, AND has been a good doting teen dad to his deaged 'cousins/clones' turned kids.

Danny was going to go pick his kids up from daycare one day when CHAOS happens. Just as he wrangles Ellie onto his shoulders, cause she wants to be tall today, and about to take Dan's hand cause he's and I quote "A big boy and not a baby like Ellie, Dad!" he suddenly feels the tug of his family being in danger.

Thing is, its a blood related danger. Meaning someone blood related to him was in grave danger, and by the emotions he can feel, its someone young, way younger than him.

Problem.

The only people Danny knows with his blood in their veins and are young enough for the feeling are with him.

So who?

But due to Danny being a protector spirit AND knowing the feeling is from someone as young as his own kids, Danny decides to use his Ghost King Powers to summon said person from the danger to him.

Danny opens his free arms out just as a tiny toddler with black hair like his own but with bright green eyes, even the sclera were green, in a ruined party dress drops from the sky from the summoning circle that had opened above him.

Danny stares at the terrified child, whose hands are tied by rope and was crying, and takes notes of certain traits she had that he saw every time in the mirror or on his own kids, same eye shape and cheekbones. He can tell his ghost core has claimed her as family but not as his kid though.

No the connection that formed was almost like his connection with Jazz but a bit stronger.

This kid, was his sister. His blood related one.

-Meanwhile-

Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, and his family were freaking the fuck out.

Dick was already panicked when his daughter Mar'i had gotten kidnapped just a few hours ago by the Joker.

Now he was feeling pure dread when his daughter, who was about to be killed, was suddenly pulled into a strange glowing circle at the last minute and disappeared into thin air.

[henry7931]

Carter’s Body Is A Party

Dan:

Ahhh shit! I think I fucked up. The crazy thing is— this isn’t even my body. It belongs to this 21 year old kid name Carter. Kinda a long story but I basically talked him into switching bodies with me. Well okay, I know how that sounds! Let me correct myself we mutually agreed to the swap but I initiated it. You see I’m 39 years old, single, handsome I might add. But when I met Carter, I felt like I had a chance to really live carefree again.

We were in a bar when I first laid my eyes on Carter a couple weeks back. I was sitting alone, I frequent this bar a lot since it’s in walking distance to my place and he was sitting by himself as well… l kept noticing that he was staring at me which felt good. He’s a good looking young guy. He looked liked the kinda guy I’d beg for attention from at his age.

Eventually he came up to me and offered to get me a drink. I tried to turn him down but he was so persistent. After a while of him flirting with me really hard, I decided to let my guard down.

We talked for hours at that bar, taking shot after shot. I eventually invited him to come back to my place.

That is where I had the bright drunken idea of us swapping bodies.

“Carter, you are sooooo fine,” I said to him drunkenly. “I think I want to be you…let’s swap bodies!! It would be sooo hot!”

He didn’t believe me at first but then I pulled out a magical ring that’s been passed down through my family.

We started to make out a bit and we both ended up stripping off all of our clothes down to our underwear.

I look at Carter’s young face… he said to me, “fuck, I hope this is real. I wanna be able to touch your body every morning.”

My dick got hard at the thought of being able to do the same in his. Carter ran his fingers through my chest hair and says, “you’re such a fine ass man Dan. I’d do anything…”

“Fuck well I’m about to make both of our dreams come true. You ready?,” I say putting on the ring.

“Fuck yeah!”

As I slid on the ring, I said his name aloud. I just a split second both of us passed out.

As I started to come too, I immediately knew I was Carter. I sat up and saw Carter filling up my chest.

I thought he would be freaked out. Instead he seemed so amazed.

I watch him navigate slowly with my hands… touching my chest, my nipples…

He worked his way down until eyes met my dick which was about to pop out of my underwear at any moment

“can I?,” he said with the softest tone.

“It’s your body right now.”

Carter pulled out my dick and began to fondle it in front of me.

I was so turned by his excitement about having my body. I got up and immediately started sucking my body off.

Carter watched me work my own cock for him. I felt my bigger hands run through Carter’s hair.

And I felt him pull back and grab his chin.

“Dan, let’s get in bed.”

I pull off his underwear and saw all of Carter’s naked body for the first time. His cock was long and eager. His pubes were trimmed down (unlike mine) and he had these cute tight balls.

Carter felt up and down his junk for me.

“Does your hands feel good on my cock?,” he says to me with a grin.

“Yeah it does,” I say back to him.

I look down at Carter’s legs and then at his sexy boyish feet.

That’s when Carter began to run my tongue up and down his shaft. I could feel my stubble glide across his ballsack.

“Fuck, I can tell this is going to be a long night!,” I say to him.

Carter and I fucked around for hours. We would take turns edging each other and showing one another how each other’s bodies respond. Neither one of us wanted to cum.

But I was the first one to blow my load. And he came shortly after me.

Both of us laid in bed licking cum off of each other. Shortly after I felt my naked body wrap its arms around me and we cuddled off to sleep.

By morning, we made an agreement. We keep each other’s bodies until one of us says we’re ready to swap back.

Listen, I knew I was going to go back to my life and my body at some point. I was just not prepared for the wild ride of Carter’s life.

I soon found out that was a college student who parties a lot!

I mean the schedule was already made for me. I’d go to his class which was a surprisingly easy for me. And then his friend sends in a text…

“A total rager is going down tonight boys!”

“Who wants to go out and hit the bars?”

“House party at my place tonight!”

It was nonstop and I couldn’t get enough of it.

It took me no time to get to know his friends but I do think it’s because I’m the best looking in the crew and I’m confident several want to get into my pants.

Which I may have let a few of them do so…

Although, they have noticed a difference in me. Which is that I have zero fear of showing off myself, especially this body.

Most nights I’d even refuse to wear a shirt!

I went from constant hook ups, hard core clubbing…

But then we went to a concert and I may have taken it too far…

All of us were having a good time when I came across this handsome guy.

“Sup! My names Carter,” I said to him with a grin.

“Hey, you’re cute. You wanna make out?,” said the handsome stranger.

“Fuck yeah!”

This guy and I made out for a while at the concert. Neither of us gave a fuck about anyone around us.

That’s when I felt him unbuckle my pants…

All I could think of in the back of my head was… am I really about to get my dick sucked out in the open at a concert???

Before I could even think, Carter’s dick was out of his pants and this guy was on his knees.

“Holy shit Carter!” I hear one of his friends say in the background.

The guy sucking me off was sooo good at it. I couldn’t even think straight.

“Dude! Carter!! The police!!!”

The second I came down this guy’s throat, the police came up and caught us red handed.

Luckily, I didn’t get charged with anything. But they did take me to jail along with the other guy.

We both sat quietly the entire ride.

And when they put us in a cell both of us sat awkwardly.

All I could say in that moment was, “man I messed up.”

The guy looked over at me nervously, “I did too Dan.”

It took me a second to register him using my real name.

“Carter?”

“Yeah it’s me…”

“What the fuck??!? Where is my body???”

“Well with this guy… I don’t know. It was a really dumb idea. He came over to your place. I showed him the ring and then the next morning I couldn’t find him in your body. Plus he stole your ring!”

“CARTER!!!”

“I’m sorry!!!”

I watched as the other handsome 20 something, cried his eyes out. I wanted to be so mad at him. But then I remembered just how foolish I’ve been in his body.

Shortly after one of Carter’s friends posted my bail and I ended up doing the same for the actual Carter.

Weeks passed while Carter and I tried our hardest to find my body. But unfortunately we had no luck. Carter and I eventually grew a fondness for each other.

I graduated college the following spring and Carter got a nice job with his body. It helped that the stranger that took my body was already somewhat successful in life.

Both of managed to get a nice place together. Although life seems kind of boring now, we do frequent a club on an occasion.

[419jhat]

Not Just Friends

Summary: Eddie flirts with Steve constantly, and Steve flirts back. The lines start to blur, and Eddie gets all in his head about it, until he sees Steve with another guy and realizes that their weird little game was never that special at all. Or...maybe Steve's just a dumbass.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,230

***

“Family Video, this is Steve.”

“Hey, hot stuff, wanna make a big mistake?” Eddie asks.  

“You sure it wouldn't be a small mistake?” Steve shoots back with zero hesitation.

“What- I'll have you know, it would be a very big mistake, Harrington. Extra large, ok? Ok maybe not extra large but definitely large,” Eddie insists.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, “did you call me this morning for a specific reason or are you awake with the sun for once on accident?”

Eddie clears his throat. He’ll never get over how easily Steve accepts the flirting. It makes him wonder what's going on in that pretty little head. Did he think Eddie was joking? Did he secretly like it?

“Do you want a movie or something? I'm free tonight,” Eddie asks, fiddling with the phone cord.

“What makes you think I'm free tonight?”

“The fact that you're never doing anything?” 

“Jesus, Munson. Or something.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“I work at a movie store. I watch movies all day. No movies. I want the something.”

“It's a date,” Eddie dares to say.

“Whatever you say,” Steve says. Eddie can hear the smile in his voice just before the line goes dead. He feels a little accomplished, even if all he did was invite the guy over. Something he did every week at this point. But hey, this was progress, right?

He turns to look at the clutter in his bedroom and recalls the expression in Steve's face when he saw how dirty his old mattress was. 

He starts cleaning.

About an hour later, when he's been thoroughly sidetracked with reorganizing the miniatures on his dresser, he hears a knock at the door. He flings the bedsheet into something nicer than the crumpled mess it had been and rushed to the door.

“Welcome to my humble abode, your highness,” he says with as he opens the door. Steve's fanning his shirt, sweat dripping down his forehead, but still waits patiently for Eddie to get out of the way like the perfect little houseguest. When he does, Steve beelines straight for Eddie's bedroom. He strips his shirt off and collapses on the bed under the window AC, basking in the cool air.

“Damn, Harrington, I see how it is,” Eddie says, then he squeaks when Steve balls up his shirt and tosses it at his head.

“Can’t you buy me dinner first? I'm feeling used,” Eddie jokes.

Steve pats the bed next to him.  “Lay down next to me.”

Eddie listens, because he's a hopeless fool. He leaves some room between them, since he's already been coming on kind of strong today and doesn't want to scare Steve off for real. But then Steve closes the gap and rests his head on Eddie's chest.

He says something. Eddie's not sure what it is because he's too busy trying not to do something stupid like pulls steve on top of him and squeeze him as tight as he can.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, when he realizes Steve is silent again.

“I said, do you want to turn on the radio?”

“Oh! Why didn't you say so?” Eddie asks with a nervous chuckle.

“I did,” Steve says.

Eddie balances on his elbow and awkwardly stretches to reach the radio without jostling Steve's head. He's starting to form a cramp in his wrist from twisting it all wrong just to reach the thing when the weight on his chest lifts and suddenly, a shirtless Steve Harrington has one arm braced by Eddie's head and the other reaching across him.

Eddie stares at the hair on his chest, the dusty nipples right within reach of his mouth, the little moles dotting across his skin, tanned from whatever it was he willingly did outside in the summer heat all day.

“Got it,” Steve says, and suddenly Madonna’s singing in the background.

“You changed the channel,” Eddie complains distractedly. His palms are sweaty. He's hoping and praying that Steve won't look at his face and see whatever expression he's making because just knows it's going to be embarrassing. And apparently the man upstairs is on his side because Steve just lowers himself right there, right onto Eddie's chest. 

“Your heart is racing,” he says.

Eddie can feel it, just like he can feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest with every breath, and the way his fingers curl around the hem of Eddie's t-shirt.

“Because you're so heavy,” Eddie scolds lightly, using the opportunity to touch the bare skin on Steve's back. He lets his hands linger there, and then decides to take a bigger risk and indulges a little, running his hand down his spine and then back up again to the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It's gotten a little long. He wonders if Steve's planning on growing it out as he plays with it.

“You know, people make fun of her, but Madonna is actually really talented. Did you see her new music video on MTV? She really knows how to stick it to the conservatives,” Eddie rambles. He's not sure why he's saying it. He respects Madonna, but he's more nervous of Steve realizing how weirdly intimate this position is and punching him in retaliation, or something.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. Eddie can feel his mouth moving against him as he speaks. And then, just because Steve is for some reason compelled by the universe to drive Eddie insane, he says, “I bet you could do better.”

Eddie tries not to scream.

~.~.~

Steve calls him next time. Doesn't even introduce himself, like he knows that the mere sound of his voice commands Eddie to do his bidding.

“Hey, man. Want me to pick you up after work?”

Eddie's never been one to need a plan to agree to something, but obviously he's going to say yes. Steve could invite him to sit in the ocean as the tide went up and he'd be perfectly fine doing it. 

“Sure,” he says casually. He tries to think of what else to say, but before he can, Steve's already hung up.

Eddie got a new job through Wayne's buddy at the local parks and rec center, cleaning up and maintaining their public spaces. It's outside, which practically burns his soul through the mandatory jumper he has to wear in the summer heat, but he likes that people leave him alone. The town still doesn't trust him, but he puts up with it for Wayne and the kids.

And Steve.

He stands outside and waits next to the tiny building his boss does all the paperwork in, blocking the sun from his face with his hand until he sees that familiar BMW rolling towards him.

“Did you have a good day?” Steve asks, because he's genuinely nice like that.

“Eh,” Eddie says as he climbs into the passenger seat, “I had to wash vomit off a slide from a kid's birthday party. I've had better.”

Steve's nose wrinkles with sympathy. He's got the windows down, probably because it's hot as balls outside, but it's whipping his hair all over the place. Eddie wants to reach over and fix it, but he's not so sure Steve would like that. He's so distracted by it all that he doesn't even notice they're pulling to a stop on the road that backs up to the quarry.

“What's going on?” Eddie asks.

Steve smiles wickedly.

“Wanna smoke?” he asks.

“Oh?” Eddie says, lifting an eyebrow. He didn't expect that. Especially since it's his weed Steve's asking to smoke.

“You asking or offering, Harrington?”

“Both,” he says coyly, pulling a spare joint from his box of cigarettes. It's one Eddie gave him a few days earlier. He lights up and passes it over, his hand hovering in the short space between them. Eddie stares, thinking about how Steve's lips were just on the end of it, and now his lips are going to be too. It's kind of like a kiss, in a way. The idea makes him blush.

“So…is this how you treat all the girls, big boy?” Eddie teases.

“What?” Steve asks. He doesn't sound angry, so Eddie keeps pushing. 

“A secluded parking spot in the woods at dusk, some weed, windows down. All we're missing is a little music and it could make a guy fall in love,” Eddie says, holding a hand to his heart.

Steve turns the keys in the ignition, bringing the radio and AC back to life.

“One can only dream,” Steve says with a wink that has no business being as smooth as it is.

And God, how Eddie can dream. He wonders yet again, if Steve is really this oblivious to their little game. 

Steve turns the car back off and runs a hand through his hair like he does when he's thinking hard about something. Eddie can only hope it's that he's suddenly realizing that he's into men. He takes the joint, willing himself to stop thinking of foolish things. 

With the car off, and it's starting to get disgustingly warm, so he focuses on that instead. Focuses so much on it that he ends up peeling the top half of his jumper off revealing an old ripped Metallica shirt.

“I'm sorry we couldn't save your guitar,” Steve says suddenly. 

“Hmm?” Eddie asks. He meets Steve's eyes in the rearview mirror. Steve's staring at his shirt. “Oh, it's ok. I mean, it isn't, actually. I'll miss that thing until the end of time. But that's kind of the point, right? I can miss it because you guys saved my life, so, it's fine.”

He's rambling, because it feels ungrateful to feel sad about the loss of his guitar. His baby. His one and only. 

Steve places a comforting hand just above his knee. It's warm, and weirdly intimate enough that it shakes Eddie out of his mournful thoughts.

“It's ok to be sad, man. You were pretty cool with that thing,” he says.

Eddie can't process Steve Harrington telling him he looked cool and touching his thigh at the same time. It's simply too much for him to handle. He takes another hit, keeping his mouth too busy to say something embarrassing. 

“I never got to see you perform. I mean, I saw a bit of your show in the upside down, but nothing else,” Steve says.

“I can play something for you sometime,” Eddie says, before he can think it through.

“You'd do that for me?” Steve asks. Which is a stupid question. Eddie would obviously do anything for Steve.

His hand is still on Eddie's thigh. Guys don't usually do that, do they? Was Steve flirting with him for once? Without provocation?

“Yeah, I've got another guitar. It's an acoustic, but it does the job.”

Steve's quiet for a moment. Long enough that Eddie focuses back on his fingers slowly tapping his knees, like he's thinking something through.

“You want to go swimming?” Steve asks.

“... really?” Eddie asks, surprised that Steve would even want to after everything that happened with the upside down. Steve seems to understand, because his expression softens and then he shrugs. 

“I think it would be easier if someone went with me,” he says softly.

It occurs to Eddie that this must have been Steve's plan the whole time, and maybe the weed and talk of guitars was just a distraction. It's honest and vulnerable enough that it makes him feel a little honored that he held Steve’s trust. He can't say no to that, so he agrees before he can even ask about swimsuits. 

Steve releases his knee and climbs out of the car, walking toward the Quarry with a look over his shoulder to check if Eddie's following. Eddie wipes the sweat from his brow and looks up just in time to see Steve removing his shirt. 

He can't look away, and that's how he gets the shock of his life when Steve removes his jeans too.

“Oh- uh,” Eddie stutters.

Then, off goes the underwear and Eddie's got an eye full of a round, tan, Harrington ass. 

At this point, the sun is setting and Eddie doubts anyone could see them in any amount of detail. But he doesn't know what to do with a naked hot dude right in front of him. Does he touch? He wants to touch. But Steve is confusing, and touching might not go well. Instead of standing around like a lovesick dumbass, Eddie wolf whistles and dramatically fans his face.

“Well, I'll be damned, Harrington. Maybe you're the extra large between the two of us!” he says, even though he can't actually see Steve's dick with him turned around. Steve completely ignores him.

“Come on!” he says, rushing toward the shoreline. Eddie quickly decides that he likes Steve enough to get naked with him, even if it's not in a sexy way. He kicks off his boots and leaps toward the water with a shout.

~.~.~

Steve’s got his head resting in the spot between Eddie's thigh and hip bone, competing for space next to his guitar as Eddie plucks away songs he knows he'd recognize.

“You're so talented,” Steve says, for the millionth time that night. He's repeating it over and over, pushing Eddie's ego sky high. 

“I just play what I hear,” he says humbly.

“I can't even sing what I hear,” Steve says with a little laugh. He's got his legs hanging over the edge of the couch, feet tapping along to the best as Eddie plays.

“It's not that hard. I can show you, if you want,” Eddie says.

Steve looks up at him through his hair. “Really?”

“Get up, buttercup, and I'll give you a short lesson,” Eddie says.

Steve lifts himself away from Eddie and sits up on the couch, shoving Wayne's favorite pillow into the floor. Eddie decides the pillow can survive the disrespect and shoves the only remaining shard of his shattered musical soul into Steve's arms. Steve holds onto it like it's made of glass, which is a good first step in Eddie's opinion.

Eddie moves Steve's fingers into the correct position to play Yesterday, which is kind of setting a beginner up for failure with the bar chords. 

“Move your other hand like this,” Eddie said, mimicking the strumming motion. Steve tries and fails. Eddie grabs his hand and tries to help, but he still doesn't get it. His brows are furrowed cutely as he focuses hard on the strings like they'll make it all work out for him.

“Let me show you,” Eddie says, pulling Steve so his back is pressed against Eddie's chest. He wraps his arms around him, pretending that being this close doesn't make him want to kiss the top of his shoulder and bear hug him until they fall asleep. He laces his fingers through Steve's, helping him feel exactly where to go.

“Your fingers go here, and your other hand moves like this,” he says over Steve's shoulder.

It's impractical and isn't teaching Steve anything. He just likes the feeling of Steve against him, the way he accepts Eddie's hands against his without any weird looks. Eddie hums the lyrics, a bit unable to stop himself because the song is a classic, until Steve lifts their hands away from the guitar and curls his fingers around Eddie's, looking at them closely. Steve pulls Eddie's hands close to his face and twists one of his rings, rubbing his thumb against the pad of Eddie's left pointer finger. He wishes he could see his expression.

“Is this what girls mean when they talk about guys that play guitar?” Steve finally asks.

Eddie laughs, sharp and loud, which makes Steve shoulder him away. 

“Don't shout in my ear,” Steve complains. 

Eddie scoots back on the couch, still laughing. Steve rolls his eyes and plucks at the guitar with his thumb.

“How often are girls telling you about guys that play guitar?”

“I mean, they talk,” Steve shrugs. 

“Oh yeah? What do they say?” Eddie teases, “that you're not doing a good enough job?”

Steve looks up at him sharp. No smile.

“They tell me how it feels,” he says.

Eddie pauses, brains scrambled, because Now he's imagining Steve describing how it feels and it goes straight to his dick. Which is awkward because they're sharing the same couch and Eddie isn't exactly sitting with his legs crossed.

Still, he wants to know more.

“How- uh- what do they say? About how it feels?” he stammers, shifting a little further from Steve. He's feeling a little hot under the collar, and he knows he's really pushing the limits, but he can't help it. Not when Steve's right there, egging him on. Because that's what this is, right? He's not alone in this. Steve has to know what he's doing.

As if to answer Eddie's silent question, Steve scoots closer, squeezing the guitar between them as he leans in, face only a few inches from Eddie's. His knee is digging into Eddie's crotch. If he moves his hips, he's sure Steve would learn just how little Eddie’s playing around. 

That makes him feel even hotter. 

He can feel a puff of hair against his face as Steve laughs lightly, face splitting into a perfect, teasing smile. Steve grabs Eddie's hands and places them around the guitar, fingers brushing against his forehead a moment longer than necessary.

“I don't kiss and tell, Munson,” he says, and then he gets off the couch, leaving Eddie hard as a rock.

~.~.~

Sometimes, Steve spends the night. He falls asleep after an hour of whispering nonsense back and forth in the dark, with his back pressed against Eddie's chest, arms curled close to his body. Then Eddie wakes up to see that Steve is already gone, like the shared heat on the mattress is just a figment of his imagination.

He tries not to let himself think it means anything. He always stays awake a moment longer, always lingering on the man in bed next to him, wondering when he'll finally be sure enough to put himself out of his misery by leaning over for a kiss. 

Then, at least he'll know what this is. 

This time, Eddie wakes up and it's still dark out. Someone is touching him. He turns and sees a figure in his bed, the blankets pooled around their waist.

“Eddie?” Steve asks sleepily.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

Now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, he can see the outline of the moon leaning through the window blinds, turning Steve's hair stark white where the light hits it.

“You were having a nightmare,” Steve says, placing a hand on Eddie's chest. Eddie can feel his heart, frantic and stressed, under Steve's hand. “Are you ok?”

“I'm fine. I don't even remember it,” Eddie says.

Steve slumps down next to him and leans in. Something brushes against Eddie's cheek, something soft and sweet, so quick that Eddie nearly thinks he's dreamt it up- 

A kiss.

Steve just kissed him.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, rolling over like it was nothing. Like he didn't just steal Eddie's heart through his lips. Eddie roughly grabs Steve and hugs him from behind, pulling him as close as possible. He wants to merge into one with this man. He wants signs of Steve across every inch of his skin. Steve makes a sleepy noise of protest, but lets it all happen, and Eddie falls asleep happy with no room for nightmares anymore.

~.~.~

“Who the fuck is that?” Eddie asks, nose scrunched up with disgust. He's just entered Steve's house for some pool party the kids bullied him into hosting, and was instantly met with the most irritating sight he's ever laid eyes upon- a handsome stranger hanging off Steve's shoulder.

“Oh, it's Steve's friend from Italy. Gabriel,” Robin says with a roll of her eyes. “I didn't even know he had friends.”

“Hey, he has us! And the kids!” Eddie says, trying to pretend he isn't watching Steve like a hawk.

“You know what I mean,” Robins says.

Gabriel. 

Fucking Gabriel.

Eddie watches as Steve lingers around this other man. This man and his curly brown hair, lightly tanned skin, muscular body, and soft blue eyes. This man and his touchy hands that linger along Steve's body like they're glued together, playfully grabbing at Steve's sunglasses.

“How long has he known him?” Eddie asks defensively. He crosses his arms across his cropped Dio shirt, suddenly feeling a little inadequate in the presence of fucking Michelangelo over there. 

“Since they were kids,” Robin shrugs.

Eddie's heart feels tight. He's sure he's going to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West, or something equally dramatic. Because Steve is up and close in this random man's space, in a swimsuit nonetheless, showing off his hairy tits and chatting it up like it was totally normal to be practically in someone's lap.

Which, it was.

Between them.

Some girl Eddie doesn't recognize is laughing it up with Nancy and Jonathan off to the side. She's equally gorgeous and Eddie knows right away that she must have come from Italy too. 

Since when did Steve go to Italy? Was this some rich boy shit he'd never learned about? 

“Eddie's here!” Dustin yells from the pool. Eddie's saved from having to fake happiness around the kids by Mike tackling Dustin from behind. He's probably drowning or something, but Eddie's not too concerned because somewhere, music is getting louder and fucking Gabriel is pulling Steve up to dance. Steve and Gabriel move like it's second nature, laughing and a little too close, a little too much hip movement for it to be guys being guys.

Eddie didn't know Steve could dance. He didn't even know Steve liked disco. 

Why does it suddenly feel like he doesn't know Steve at all?

“Whoo! Those two are always like that,” the pretty girl says with a lazy smile. Nancy and Jonathan don't seem too shocked to see Steve acting like this, which is another sign that Eddie is a gullible fool.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks. She sounds worried. Eddie's not looking at her. He's watching Steve plant a kiss on Gabriel's cheek after their stupid little dance stops.

Eddie isn't alright. 

He feels like an idiot. 

He thought they had something special, but it turns out that Steve is just…like that.

He turns and walks into the kitchen, so he can work through his shame in peace. That way, he can behave like a normal human long enough to make an excuse and leave in favor of crying into his ratty trailer pillow that probably still smells like Steve and his stupid hairspray.

“Whoa, what's wrong?” someone asks.

It's Steve, of course. He's standing at the kitchen door, looking at Eddie with genuine concern. His sunglasses are pushed into his hair, artfully keeping it out of his face. He looks behind himself and closes the door before walking up to Eddie, getting in his space.

Eddie steps back.

“I didn't see you get here. You look sick, are you ok?” he asks.

Eddie wants to say that he's fine, but looking into Steve's eyes makes everything worse. Much to his horror, he feels a lump forming in his throat and a familiar burn forming in his eyes. He tries to blink it away, but that just makes a premature tear roll down his cheek. 

Fuck.

Steve steps even closer and lifts his hands to Eddie's face, gently holding him, brushing the tear away with his thumb. And now that it's started, he can't make it stop. Eddie starts to cry even harder.

“Is it Wayne? Did something happen at the trailer?” Steve's asking, appearing to genuinely care.

“No,” Eddie says.

“Are you hurt?”

“No!”

“Did someone-”

“No, no, no! Steve, just stop!” Eddie says, elbowing his way free from Steve's grasp. He feels a little bad about it, when he sees how hurt Steve looks. But he feels too shitty to care much about anything at the moment.

“You're crying, Eddie. Can't I help?”

“You've done enough, honestly,” Eddie says.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“Dude, are you really that dense?” 

Steve kind of shutters at that, and then Eddie really feels bad. He's made an ass of himself and now he's being an ass too. 

“Just- stop, ok? Go back to your Italian boyfriend,” Eddie says.

“Huh? Gabe?” Steve asks. 

Oh, so they have nicknames now?

“Whatever his name is,” Eddie grumbles, even though he knows it's going to be impossible for him to forget that name for the rest of his life. 

Steve scoffs for a second and then shakes his head. “Are you mad that I have other friends?”

Eddie can't believe it. It's the worst case scenario. Steve didn't know. Somehow, Steve was completely oblivious to Eddie's feelings. There was no game between them. Eddie had made it all up in his head. Steve's just an oblivious flirt. He was matching Eddie's weird, lovesick energy.

God, how embarrassing.

“No, Steve,” Eddie says, already done with the conversation and ready for the consequences, “I'm mad that you're flirting with this dude after weeks of flirting with me!”

Steve looks shocked. Like he would've expected maybe a week after the upside down, back before this all began and he didn't know Steve that well. Turns out, he never knew Steve. 

He just thought he did.

“I- I wasn't flirting with you,” Steve says with a nervous little laugh.

“You slept in my bed and kissed me on the cheek. You rubbed your knee against my dick during our guitar lesson.”

Steve's just staring at him like all of this was in Eddie's head, which makes him feel even more defensive.

“You said you knew how it felt to get fingered!” he hisses.

Steve's cheeks go bright red. 

“Oh my God, I've been flirting with you,” he says. He lifts a hand to his forehead, like the information is too much for his head to handle.

“You also- well- I mean…yes?” Eddie says, not really sure what's happening anymore. He's so confused that his tears have stopped. Steve takes a step closer. 

“You've been flirting with me,” he says, pointing at Eddie.

Eddie nods. 

“And I've been flirting with you,” he says, pointing at himself.

Eddie nods again.

“I was flirting with Gabriel! Do you think he's into me?” he asks, pointing at the kitchen door.

Eddie's frown is severe. 

“Sorry, no. Forget I said that. Eddie, I think I have a crush on you,” Steve says with wonder in his voice.

It's Eddie's turn to blush now. He's witnessing Steve realize he's into men. Specifically, that he's into Eddie. Steve paces around the kitchen, combing a hand through his hair in that way he always does when he's thinking hard about something. Eddie recognizes it because he does know Steve, after all. Maybe a little better than Steve knows himself. Steve's cheeks are still bright red and he's breathing kind of weird. It's very strange, to watch someone come out to themselves.

And then Steve starts to cry.

Eddie rushes forward just as Steve leans back against the countertop and curls into himself.

“Hey, no, no, no, it's ok. You're still you,” he says, pulling Steve into a hug. 

What the fuck is happening? 

“I made you cry,” Steve says.

“It's ok,” Eddie says, rubbing his back, “you'll get used to it.”

“I don't want to get used to making you cry!” Steve whisper-shouts. 

“No, I mean that you'll get used to being into men,” Eddie says.

Steve pushes Eddie back a hair and looks him in the eyes.

“Why would I need to get used to it? It's obviously true. I'm upset because I've been such a dick to you,” he says softly.

Eddie just stares at him. He wonders if Steve is ok. Maybe this is what a breakdown looks like? Funny, how quick their mental states flipped during this conversation.

“Steve, it's ok to freak out a little. When I first realized I was into men, I cried until I threw up,” Eddie says.

Steve leans in and kisses him on the cheek, right at the corner of his mouth. It's so light and quick that for a moment, Eddie's not even sure that it happened. It makes his heart flip twice over.

“I'm not freaking out. I'm just trying to figure out how to make it up to you.”

Eddie lifts an eyebrow. Steve's fully serious. He's dried his face and is wrapping his arms around Eddie's back, brushing his hands against the belt loops in his jeans.

“Wow, you're serious. You genuinely-”

Eddie's cut off as Steve pulls him into a real kiss. The kind of kiss he'd seen in movies, sweet but also kind of hot. Eddie wants more. He crowds Steve against the countertop and runs his hands down over that ass he couldn't stop thinking about since seeing it in person, grabs his thighs just under his swim trunks and lifts, pushing their bodies as close as possible.

Steve has one hand tangled in Eddie's hair, steering his head to the side, and another gripping around his back pocket, pulling Eddie's hips right into his.

Eddie can't believe it. Steve's kissing him. He's rolling his hips into him. 

Steve chose him over fucking Gabe!

Steve pulls their bodies even closer than Eddie thought possible, and Eddie can feel every detail of his dick hardening against him through his jeans. It leaves him breathless, desperate to drop his hands from Steve's warm torso and under that swimsuit so he can feel it in more detail. Steve's not so shy. He's driving Eddie crazy with his hand sliding around his zipper, lifting up to the hem and back down again. 

“Eddie,” Steve gasps into his mouth as he starts fumbling with the button.

Eddie’s experiencing something religious with Steve's tongue when a shout breaks them apart. 

Eddie leaps halfway across the room before bothering to look around to check that nobody is there. He turns back to Steve, who's watching him carefully.

“I think it's just the kids. We should probably go back outside,” he says.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees reluctantly. Based on the look Steve's sending his way, he feels the same. He jumps down from the counter and walks over to the door, then pauses. 

He turns to Eddie and says, “You should sleep over tonight.”

“Ok,” Eddie says, feeling his cheeks go warm again as he tries not to assume anything after an afternoon of assuming things, “I like your guest room, it's got a really comfortable mattress-”

“In my bed,” Steve clarifies.

“Ok!” Eddie squeaks. “I could run home and grab something to sleep in-”

“Naked,” Steve says bluntly. Then he seems to realize something, because he looks away from Eddie like he's embarrassed. “I mean, unless you don't want that. No pressure. I have something you can borrow-”

“I want that,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve smiles. He flicks his sunglasses back over his eyes and leans in to kiss Eddie one last time, short, and promising more for later. As he opens the door, Eddie spots Gabe lounging around with that pretty girl and gets an idea. He shoves past Steve and smacks his ass on the way by, smiling at Gabe, just to cement his victory.

“Damn Harrington, feels as good as it looks,” he says. Gabe looks completely confused. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Don't get addicted,” Steve says.

[mellowmusings]

Blessed mistakes | Prologue Azriel x Reader

A/N- This is just a drabble for now and its been sitting in my drafts for a while so i decided to post it. Not sure if i'm gonna continue on this though.

summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

This was miserable, He was miserable.

The stale tavern air reeked of unwashed bodies, alcohol and bile. Men and women sang bawdy songs in offtune tones drowning out the music, in a corner a brawl went on, men punching one another over a rigged game of poker, women flirted with him, and none took to his liking.

How the mighty had fallen, he mused. He gulped down his whiskey, the burn in his throat grounding him. A few centuries ago he would have been drinking himself to his limit with his brothers and bedding whatever pretty female came his way, but that wasn't the case anymore. Somewhere along the path he'd fallen in love and started caring for females who could never love him the way he loved them. Now his heart was a stupid, broken mess of emotions and feelings he didn't like, and so he spent his days working himself trying to forget his feelings, now he spent his nights training because even sleep had abandoned hom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy, genuinely happy and felt Loved

*2 centuries ago*

The cool summer breeze ruffled his hair, the birds sang in the background, almost harmonizing with one another. He could make out the call of the Mockingjay, A cuckoo bird, and maybe a peacock too. He sat besides y/n, his who was like a younger sister to him. She'd practically grown up with him, Cass and Rhys since they were teenagers. "Hey Az, can i ask you something?" She carefully unfolded the petals of a half bloomed daffodil. "Sure what is it?" "If you had to choose between Mor, your mate and me who would you choose, to love I mean." She asked, a slight hint of nervousness in her voice. Her question caught Azriel off-guard, he loved her but not in a romantic manner, he loved his mate more, no matter who she was, after all, she was his other half. Mor on the other hand was everything he yearned for, she was simply...perfect. He admired and respected her a lot, but more than that he loved her a lot. He thought for a moment before responding "It's tricky, on one hand, there's Mor and on the other, there's my mate. I'd say, my mate" He said carefully, not sure where this was going. Y/n's face fell just the slightest, if he didn't know her well, he wouldn't have noticed, but he did. "What's the matter, princess?" He asked softly, "What about me?" y/n asked softly He huffed out a laugh before responding, "I love you a lot, I really do princess, but you're like a younger sister to me, plus my mate always comes first." "right, of course they do." she said dejectedly, swinging her legs back and forth holding back tears. "Whats the matter princess?" 'The thing is Az you could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt, gods why can't you see it? I love you, and I love you more than you could ever imagine.'

She didn't say those words but gods did she want to, she wanted to tell Az how stupid he was for giving his heart to some females who were just gonna stomp on it and leave but she didn't because Azriel loved Mor and some mate he didn't know more than he loved her. She was always going to be a friend to him, nothing more, nothing less. So she continued swinging her legs and lied to his face with a simple 'I'm fine, I swear'. He didn't believe her, they both knew each other well enough to know that much, still he didn't pry any further. So they sat in silence, and stared at the setting sun while the world around them went quite, she averted her gaze away from Azriel as tears fell and landed on the broken yellow petals. if y'all wanna be tagged, just let me know :) @starlightazriel @scorpioriesling @velarisdusk @siriuslystyle1989