#but it's more like they were the first pet and will always be the most beloved

[elikajinnie]

Note: Hello! Just posting this birthday fic before I start my journey to London! Happy birthday @ikeuverse !!! luv u bay boo <3 Hope you enjoy this dark fic as a present!

Warnings: Office au, Violence, Obsession, Suggestive Content, Needy Behaviour, Pet names, Blood, Choking, Crazy Man in Love, Murder

Synopsis: Jay prided himself on his ability to keep his emotions and impulses in check, even the ones dark enough to ruin his image. But every man has a breaking point, and his was you. You awaken something in him—something unstrained and dangerous.

Jay considered himself a patient man—steadfast, composed, and reliable in almost any situation. A colleague dumping extra workload on him? No problem, he could stay an extra hour to finish it. The coffee machine running out right before his turn? He’d refill it without complaint. His computer crashing, and IT dragging their feet to fix it? Fine, he could manage.

He could handle all of it.

But what he couldn’t handle—what made his patience snap like a dry twig—was seeing someone ruin your day.

You, the person who had his heart entirely, even if you didn’t know it yet.

The first day you’d walked into the office, he swore it was love at first sight. There was something about you—so effortlessly beautiful, so free yet reserved. You weren’t loud or attention-seeking like some of the others in the office. You simply came in, did your work and left.

And the fact that you didn’t talk to many of your colleagues? That you seemed to reserve most of your conversations for him?

That pleased him more than he’d care to admit.

Because the truth was, Jay wasn’t a good man. Not in the way people thought. He wore the mask of the perfect coworker, the dependable guy, the one you could always count on. But underneath, in the shadows of his mind, there were thoughts he’d never dare to voice. Things no one needed to know.

They didn’t need to know what he thought when he saw someone laughing too loudly near your desk, stealing your attention away from him. They didn’t need to know how his jaw tightened when another colleague asked you out for lunch, or how his stomach churned when you smiled politely but didn’t refuse.

And they definitely didn’t need to know what he imagined doing to the coworker who’d made you frown earlier today.

It wasn’t much—just a small comment, a careless remark about your work that Jay knew wasn’t fair. But he saw the way your shoulders slumped, the way your smile faltered for the rest of the day. It was enough to ignite something dangerous inside him, something he fought hard to suppress.

No one got to hurt you.

Jay’s hands flexed against the desk, his knuckles turning white. He took a slow, measured breath. No one had to know what was going on in his head. Not you, not the person who’d hurt you, no one.

No, no one could find out. And no one would find out.

Jay repeated that mantra in his head like a lifeline, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the desk as if the movement could ground him. If he just held his patience, if he kept his emotions under control, everything would be fine. He was good at hiding things, good at maintaining the mask of normalcy.

But he shouldn’t have underestimated how much his feelings for you overthrew his rational thinking.

It wasn’t just admiration or a harmless crush anymore. It was deeper, sharper, something that dug into his very being and left him restless. It consumed him, made him hyperaware of every glance you gave someone else, every moment you looked even the slightest bit upset.

And when he saw the person who’d hurt you walking past his desk, laughing as if they hadn’t just wrecked your mood, that feeling boiled over.

His fingers stilled, his jaw tightening. He didn’t know when he stood up or when he started walking. The rational part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to think this through, to sit back down before he did something he couldn’t take back. But that part of him was no match for the storm brewing in his chest.

He caught up to them in the hallway, his voice calm, measured, almost too controlled. “Hey.”

The coworker turned, their expression a mixture of confusion and faint unease. “Hey?”

Jay smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Got a minute?”

They hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing something was off. Jay's smile didn't waver. "It's important," he added, voice still smooth but carrying an undertone that left little room for argument.

Reluctantly, they nodded, following him into one of the empty meeting rooms. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in a bubble of tense silence.

Jay leaned against the door casually, arms crossed, tilting his head as he studied them. "You know," he began, his tone deceptively light, "I noticed you had a lot to say to her today."

Confusion flickered in their eyes before it shifted into indifference. "What? It was just a comment. It’s not that serious."

Jay chuckled quietly, the sound low and cold. "Not serious to you, maybe."

"Look, man, if she’s upset, that’s not my problem." They moved as if to leave, but Jay didn’t budge.

His smile faded.

"See, that's where you're wrong." His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "It is your problem now."

The coworker’s bravado faltered for a second.

Jay leaned in slightly, his eyes sharp and unblinking. "I’m going to give you a piece of advice—free of charge. You’re going to stay far away from her. No comments, no jokes, no anything. Understand?"

They scoffed, trying to mask their unease. "Are you threatening me?"

Jay’s lips curled into a slow smirk. "Threatening?" He let the word hang in the air. "No. I’m just making sure we understand each other."

The tension in the room thickened. Jay didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared until the other man shifted uncomfortably.

"Fine. Whatever," they muttered, pushing past him. Jay let them go, listening to their hurried footsteps fade down the hall.

Slowly, he exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. The tightness in his chest eased, but only slightly.

That should be enough—for now.

But deep down, Jay knew this feeling wasn’t going away.

And to Jay's dismay, the warning didn’t stick.

The coworker didn’t stop.

Oh, they were smarter about it now—waiting until Jay wasn’t around to make their comments, keeping their voice low, making sure their jabs seemed like harmless jokes to anyone else. But Jay knew better.

Because Jay always knew.

He was always watching. Always listening.

Always watching you.

It wasn’t difficult. He knew your schedule, your habits, the way you tucked yourself into quieter corners of the office during breaks. He knew which paths you took to avoid unnecessary conversation, which meetings you hated sitting through, and which tasks weighed you down.

And he knew when something was wrong.

Like now.

Jay watched from across the office as that same coworker leaned in a little too close to you at the copier, their smirk too smug, their voice just low enough that no one else could catch the words.

But Jay could read your body language—the way you stiffened, how your eyes didn’t meet theirs, how your hands faltered as you shuffled papers.

That was enough.

Jay’s vision tunneled, the hum of the office dulling into static. His hands tightened into fists at his sides.

They thought they could get away with it, thought he wasn’t paying attention.

But Jay was always paying attention.

And now?

They’d crossed a line.

Without thinking, without hesitation, Jay was moving, his steps steady. He didn’t care about the people around him, didn’t care if anyone noticed the shift in his expression—cold, and dangerously calm.

This time, a warning wouldn’t be enough. No, this time Jay would make sure they understood.

Permanently.

His steps were silent as he closed the distance between you and the coworker.

He saw it—the subtle shift in their stance, the way their hand moved just slightly, as if they were about to reach out.

To touch you.

His.

Jay’s hand shot out, clapping down on the coworker’s shoulder with more force than necessary.

“Is there a problem here?” Jay’s voice was calm, smooth, but laced with something colder beneath the surface.

The coworker jolted slightly, caught off guard, and quickly shook their head. “No, no problem. Just talking.”

Jay’s grip didn’t loosen. His smile was polite, but his eyes were sharp, piercing. “Funny. It didn’t look like talking.”

The coworker shifted uncomfortably under his hold, glancing at you for some sort of support, but you said nothing. Jay noticed how you subtly moved closer to him, putting a few more inches of space between yourself and the other man.

Oh, how that pleased him.

Something dark and satisfied coiled deep within Jay’s chest.

You felt safe near him.

Exactly where you belonged.

Jay leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough for the coworker to hear. “I think it’s best if you get back to work. Before I decide to take this to HR. I’m sure they’d love to hear about how you’ve been treating your coworkers.”

The blood drained from the man’s face. “It’s not like that—”

Jay’s grip tightened, just for a second. “Now.”

The coworker stumbled back, muttering something under their breath before practically fleeing the area.

Jay let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back, and turned his attention to you. His expression softened instantly, concern replacing the coldness in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice gentler now.

You nodded slowly, still a bit shaken. “Yeah… thanks, Jay.”

That small, grateful smile you gave him nearly made his heart stop.

“Of course,” he murmured, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you—your hand, your arm, anything. But the way you stayed close to him, the way you trusted him to handle it?

It was more than enough for now.

Jay would deal with the persistent coworker in due time.

He was a patient man, after all. He could bide his time, wait for the perfect moment—when there were no interruptions, no prying eyes, and no one to witness what he intended to do.

Because Jay hated repeating himself.

The coworker hadn’t heeded his warning, and now Jay had to escalate things. He didn’t want to resort to this, but they’d left him no choice.

For you, though? It was worth it.

It was always worth it.

Jay kept his routine flawless, his demeanor at work unbothered and professional. No one suspected a thing as he continued his tasks, chatting with colleagues, even offering his usual polite smile to you when you passed by his desk.

But beneath the surface, he was calculating.

When the time came, it was almost too easy.

The coworker stayed late one evening, likely trying to catch up on the workload they’d neglected while harassing others. Jay lingered too, casually packing his things, waiting for the office to empty out. When the last employee left and it was just the two of them, Jay approached. “Working late?” he asked, his tone friendly but his eyes sharp.

The coworker glanced up, startled, before nodding hesitantly. “Yeah, just finishing up.”

Jay nodded, stepping closer, his presence filling the room. “That’s good. Means we have a chance to chat without anyone interrupting.”

The coworker stiffened, the unease in their expression growing. “Look, if this is about previously—”

“Oh, it’s definitely about previously.” Jay’s voice dropped, losing any trace of friendliness. He leaned down, placing his hands flat on the desk. “I warned you, didn’t I?” His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but there was no mistaking the edge in his tone. “I told you to stay away from her. No comments. No games. Nothing.”

The coworker stammered, trying to explain, but Jay cut him off.

“And yet, you didn’t listen. You thought I was bluffing.” He straightened, his gaze cold and unyielding. “I never bluff.”

The coworker’s mouth moved, spitting out excuses—something about misunderstanding, about it being harmless—but Jay wasn’t listening.

Not really.

He only pretended to listen, his expression carefully composed, nodding faintly as if he was weighing the words.

But his eyes drifted, scanning the dim office. The quiet hum of machines in sleep mode filled the space. The hall was empty. The cleaning crew wouldn’t arrive for a few hours.

Perfect.

His hand moved slowly, deliberately, fingers curling around the cold metal of the stapler sitting carelessly on the edge of the desk. He gripped it tightly, feeling the weight of it, the solid heft pressing into his palm.

And his mind spiraled.

You.

You, who always greeted him first in the morning, your voice soft but warm.

You, who smiled at him every time he placed your favorite drink on your desk, pretending it was nothing.

You, who leaned in close to help him when the printer jammed, your fingers brushing his.

You, who tensed, shoulders rising when this man got too close, discomfort flashing in your eyes.

You. You. You.

Everything about Jay had become built around you.

Every thought. Every choice. Every breath.

And if making you happy meant eliminating what made you uncomfortable, what hurt you… then it was simple.

Jay’s grip on the stapler tightened.

Without hesitation, without a second thought, he swung.

The solid crack of metal against bone echoed in the empty office. The coworker barely had time to cry out before Jay brought the stapler down again. And again.

Each hit was harder than the last, fueled by something dark and burning inside him.

You.

Even when the coworker’s body slumped, weak and broken, Jay didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not until the coworker was nothing more than a twisted, crumpled body on the cold office floor—still, silent, and broken.

Jay slowly straightened up, his breathing steady, calm. The bloodied stapler slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a dull, wet thud.

He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back casually, not caring about the smears of blood staining his skin or clothes.

His eyes stayed fixed on the body.

Unmoving. Silent.

Good.

His mind, once a storm of spiraling thoughts, was quiet now. Peaceful.

A slow, satisfied smile crept onto his lips.

This was right.

This was necessary.

He tilted his head slightly, admiring his work for a moment longer before pulling himself away.

No panic. No guilt.

Just clarity.

Because now, the problem was gone.

And you—sweet, perfect you—would never have to feel uncomfortable again.

Jay turned away, already thinking about how easily this would disappear.

He was careful. He was smart.

And most importantly, he was patient.

No one would know.

And tomorrow, when you smiled at him in the office, when you thanked him for the coffee, when you leaned close to help him with the printer—he would smile back.

Because this?

This was all for you.

And you would never need to know.

At least that was what he planned, until the sharp, broken sound of a gasp shattered the stillness.

Jay’s head snapped toward the sound.

There you were.

Frozen by the exit, your coat still on, bag slung over your shoulder—just as it had been when you left the office an hour ago.

But you hadn’t left.

Or maybe you had and come back.

Why?

Jay’s mind, so quiet a moment ago, now whirled with questions.

Why were you back?

How much had you seen?

How long had you been standing there?

Your wide, horrified eyes flicked between the mangled body on the floor and Jay’s bloodied figure.

His chest rose slowly with a deep, steady breath.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

For a fleeting second, Jay considered stepping forward, saying something—anything—but his feet remained planted.

The silence between you stretched painfully thin.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Jay’s mind sharpened, cutting through the static.

He couldn’t let you be afraid of him.

Not you.

Slowly, deliberately, Jay raised his blood-streaked hands in front of him, palms out as if calming a startled animal. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and soft. “I can explain.”

But could he?

Could he explain that this was for you? That every swing of that stapler, every brutal hit, was to protect you?

Would you understand?

His heart beat steadily in his chest, not with panic—but with focus.

This was just another problem to solve.

Like the one lying cold and unmoving on the floor.

Jay’s eyes didn’t leave yours. He smiled. Slowly. Softly. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he murmured.

Now, he had to decide what to do next. With you.

His jaw clenched as he prepared himself for the worst.

The scream.

The panic.

The rush for your phone to call the police.

He was ready to take it all.

If you ran, he wouldn’t chase.

If you screamed, he wouldn’t silence you.

Because he had done what needed to be done. He had removed the problem.

For you.

But then—

You did something he never expected.

Your bag slipped from your shoulder and hit the ground with a soft thud.

Slowly, cautiously, you stepped toward him.

Jay didn’t move.

Not when your trembling hands reached up. Not when your soft fingers cupped his blood-smeared cheeks.

Your eyes searched his, wide and filled with something between fear and disbelief. “Jay…” you whispered, barely audible. “What… what did you do?”

Jay blinked, his breath shallow under your touch. His lips parted, and the words spilled out. “I… I did it for you.” His voice was quiet. “He wouldn’t leave you alone. He didn’t listen. I… I had to stop him.”

The room seemed to freeze.

You didn’t recoil.

You didn’t scream.

You just stared, shocked, processing the weight of his words.

Jay searched your face, looking for disgust, horror—anything. But it wasn’t there. And that broke something inside him.

Before you could speak, before doubt could flicker in your eyes, Jay moved. His arms shot forward, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. One hand slid up, cradling the back of your head, gently but firmly turning your face away from the mangled body on the floor.

“You shouldn’t look at that,” he murmured against your hair, his voice softer now but tinged with something.

Protective.

Possessive.

His grip tightened, holding you like you might slip away.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Jay whispered, his thumb brushing against your temple. “You’re mine to protect. No one gets to make you uncomfortable. Not him. Not anyone.”

He held you close, his body warm and solid against yours, his gaze piercing as if he could see into the deepest parts of your soul. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t need to be scared.” He closed his eyes, savoring how perfectly you fit in his arms.

He’d do anything to keep you here.

Anything.

His hand slowly stroked the back of your head, a soothing motion that contrasted sharply with the violence that had just taken place. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t scream.

Didn’t run.

Jay’s grip tightened, his mind racing. Maybe you understood. Maybe deep down, you knew he had done this for you. “I… I couldn’t let him near you anymore,” he confessed, voice barely a whisper. “He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away.

Jay’s hand, still cradling your head, slid down to gently cup your cheek—thumb brushing over your skin, leaving a faint smear of blood. “But it’s okay now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding, for acceptance.

And when you still didn’t pull away, when your body stayed close to his—Jay’s lips curved into a slow smile. “You believe me, don’t you?” he asked softly, almost childlike in tone. His fingers pressed just slightly against your skin, his need for reassurance growing heavier. “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know I did this for you.”

The room seemed to close in, the silence suffocating. But Jay’s breath was steady, his hold firm.

He would wait.

He was patient.

But not forever.

Not with you.

Because now that you knew, now that you had seen this part of him, he couldn’t let you go.

And if you didn’t say what he needed to hear… Well.

Jay could be persuasive.

“I… I believe you,” you whispered eventually, the words shaky, barely holding together.

And that was enough.

Enough for Jay.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something unhinged sparking within them.

A slow, shaky breath left his lips as a grin stretched across his face—wide, relieved, and far too dangerous. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured.

In one slow, fluid motion, his blood-slicked hand slid to the side of your neck, fingers curling possessively around your throat. He then leaned in, so close that your noses brushed, his breath hot against your lips. “Say it again,” he whispered, voice cracking with need. “Please… say it again.”

You gasped softly, wide-eyed, frozen beneath the weight of his stare. But before you could form another word, Jay couldn’t wait anymore. His lips crashed into yours, desperate and unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss meant to be sweet or careful—it was starving, as if he was finally taking something he’d been denied for far too long.

His other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, crushing you against him as he groaned into your mouth, the sound guttural, like he’d been holding it in for years.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath, your hands instinctively clutching at his shirt as his grip on your neck tightened—not to hurt, but to keep you there, to feel you.

His lips moved hungrily against yours, consuming, devouring, as if this kiss could erase everything else.

The blood on his hands smeared against your skin, staining you, marking you as his. And that thought—oh, that thought—made Jay shudder.

Finally, finally, you were his.

His lips moved to brush against your ear as he whispered, his voice heavy with desire. “You’ll never have to worry again, do you understand?”

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. His hand, still resting on your neck, felt like a constant reminder of how much he owned this moment. How much he owned you.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat, overwhelmed by his presence, and the weight of everything that had just happened.

And Jay noticed.

A flicker of understanding crossed his face, and his lips curled into a grin. “I know you’re shocked,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur. “I know. But you don’t have to be. Not anymore.” His thumb brushed over your lips, tracing the curve, as if memorizing every part of you. There was no room for doubt anymore. This was what he’d been working for. What he’d needed to do to make you his.

The thought of you, fully his, made him tremble.

And there was nothing left but the need to keep you close, to never let you go.

Jay gently pulled you back, guiding you until your back met the wall behind you. His lips found yours again—feverish, desperate. The kiss was a claim, a mark, an ownership. He wanted to feel you beneath him, to know that no one else would ever get to see you like this. His kiss deepened, growing rougher, more demanding, as though he could pour every dark thought and overwhelming need into you.

Jay wanted more.

No—he needed more.

The thought of anyone else seeing you like this, touching you, even looking at you—it made his grip tighten, made his breath grow heavier.

His mouth trailed down, kissing along your jaw, to the soft skin just below your ear. He lingered there, lips brushing your pulse, his teeth grazed your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. That sound—your gasp—ignited something in him.

He wanted to burn himself into you.

To make sure you would never forget.

Jay’s lips crashed back onto yours, fiercer, deeper, as if he could devour every breath you took.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth, his voice low and rough. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurt, the other wrapped firmly around your throat. “Baby…” he murmured between kisses, lips barely pulling away before claiming you again.

You gasped, trying to pull back, your hands pressing against his chest. “Jay—”

But his grip on your throat tightened, holding you in place as he swallowed your protest with another bruising kiss. “Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice dripping with hunger. “Don’t say my name like that. Makes me crazy.” His lips dragged along your jaw, down to your neck, where he bit down—not too hard, but hard enough to make you whimper. “Good girl,” he breathed, lips curling into a dark smile against your skin.

You squirmed slightly, your hands trembling as they gripped his arms. “Jay...please—”

“Oh, princess, now you beg?” he chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hand still cradled your throat, his thumb brushing along your pulse. “You’re not going anywhere.” Then his mouth was on yours again, more desperate, more claiming. “My sweet girl,” he mumbled.

You tried to turn your head, tried to catch your breath, but Jay wouldn’t let you. His grip on your throat kept you exactly where he wanted you.“Don’t pull away,” he groaned, biting your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“You belong here. With me.”

Another kiss.

“You understand that, don’t you, baby?” His hand flexed on your throat, a silent warning. His breath was ragged, lips swollen, eyes dark with obsession.

Jay wasn’t asking this time.

He was demanding.

And he wasn’t going to stop until you gave him what he wanted.

Until you surrendered.

Your breath hitched, eyes wide as Jay’s grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your pulse race. His thumb stroked your skin slowly, in stark contrast to the desperate, punishing kisses he pressed against your lips.

“Say it,” he murmured again, lips ghosting over yours. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, the words tangled in your throat. “I`m—”

That was all you managed before his hand flexed. “No, baby,” he rasped, his tone unyielding. “Not like that.” His teeth grazed your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. “Say it like you mean it,” he whispered against your mouth. “Tell me you belong to me like you mean it.” Jay’s breath turned ragged, his grip trembling slightly as if even he was starting to lose control. "Please," he whispered, the word barely audible but heavy with desperation. His thumb brushed over your pulse point, feeling it quicken under his touch. "I need to hear it. Need you to say it."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. The hesitation in your eyes made something in him crack.

"Baby," he breathed out shakily. "You're mine. Mine. I'll say it a thousand times, scream it until my throat bleeds if I have to." His voice was hoarse and strained. "But I need you to say it back. Just once. Please."

His lips ghosted over yours, softer now, but his hands trembled where they held you. "Tell me you belong to me. Tell me before I lose my mind." His lips pressed desperately against your jaw, your cheek, your lips—frantic, as if trying to draw the words from you. "I can't—" he choked, pulling back just enough to search your eyes. "I can't breathe without you. Just say it, baby. Please."

"Say you're mine."

Every time you tried to pull away, tried to catch your breath, Jay wouldn’t allow it. His grip on your throat anchored you, holding you exactly where he wanted you—his. “Come on, princess,” he murmured. “You know it’s true. You’ve always been mine.”

His lips brushed over your cheek, down to your ear.

“Mine to protect.”

Another kiss, softer this time.

“Mine to touch.”

His hand squeezed your hip, dragging you impossibly closer.

“Mine to love.”

The way he said it—love—sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was dark, consuming.

You felt breathless, overwhelmed.

And yet… you didn’t speak.

Jay leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, his own burning with need. “I won’t ask again, baby,” he murmured, voice like velvet over steel. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, smearing blood along your skin.

“Say it.”

And in that suffocating silence, with his grip steady and his eyes locked on yours, you knew you had no choice.

Not when he was looking at you like that.

Like he would burn the world down if you didn’t.

Your breath trembled, your mind spinning. Jay’s hand on your throat was firm, his body pressed so tightly against yours that there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Say it.

His words echoed in your head, each one heavier than the last. And somehow, despite the fear, despite the chaos in your chest, your lips parted. “I…” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Jay’s grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Louder, sweetheart.” His voice was a low growl, his lips brushing against yours. “Say it so I know it’s real.”

Your chest heaved, and for a brief second, your gaze flickered to the dark stain on the floor behind him. The body. The blood.

But then Jay’s hand shifted, his thumb stroking along your jaw, pulling your attention back to him.

To the man who had done all of this for you.

To the man who would do it again.

And something inside you cracked.

“I’m yours,” you breathed.

Jay froze.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence between you.

Then, slowly, his lips pulled into a wicked, satisfied smile.

“That’s my girl.”

Before you could take another breath, his mouth was on yours again, brutal and hungry. His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss, his other hand still warm and solid around your throat.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he muttered between kisses, voice rough and uneven. “Hearing you say it…fuck...” He kissed you again, harsher this time, as if the words you spoke had completely undone him.

Jay was losing control, and he didn’t care.

Because now you were his.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, making sure you felt every inch of his need. “Say it again,” he demanded, his lips brushing over your cheek, down to your neck. His teeth scraped against your skin, sending a shiver through you.

“Jay—”

He growled at the sound of his name, his hand around your throat flexing.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

Jay let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours as he laughed—low, dark, and completely unhinged.

“That’s right, baby,” he whispered, “you’re mine.” His breath grew heavier, ragged against your skin.

Being this close—feeling you against him, hearing you say you were his—shattered whatever thread of control he had left.

His mind spiraled, drowning in the intoxicating thought that you belonged to him.

Only him.

His mouth smashed against yours again, bruising and desperate, like he was trying to crawl inside you, to erase any space that could ever exist between you.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

Jay broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his hands roaming everywhere—gripping, pulling, needing. His lips found your jaw, your neck, biting and kissing until your skin bloomed with marks.

“You don’t understand what you do to me,” he growled, his teeth scraping along your throat. “I can’t think when I’m around you. I can’t fucking breathe without wanting to touch you.”

His hands gripped the fabric of your clothes so tightly they shook, like he might rip them off just to feel more of you. “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked, breath ragged. “I need you. Right now.”

His mouth found yours again, messier this time, all teeth and tongue and need.

You whimpered, trying to turn your head, overwhelmed by how hard he was pressing you into the wall.

But Jay wasn’t having it.

His hand shot up, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back to meet his lips again. “Don’t pull away from me.” His voice was a warning, but there was something desperate beneath it. “You said you’re mine.”

He kissed you harder, punishing, needy.

“So act like it.”

His hand slid under your shirt, rough and fast, gripping your skin like he could mold you into him, his mind spinning with every sound you made, every shiver he felt under his hands.

And it still wasn’t enough.

“I want to ruin you for anyone else.”

“I want them to look at you and know they’ll never fucking have you.”

His grip on your waist tightened, his breathing quick and shallow.

“Because you’re mine.”

Jay’s lips crashed into yours again, wild and unrelenting, his hands gripping you like he’d fall apart if he let go.

And in that moment, you realized—

There was nothing left of Jay’s control.

Only you.

Only this.

And he would burn everything down to keep it.

...and the twisted part? You didn’t feel guilty. Not even a little.

The memory of that night lingered like smoke in the back of your mind, heavy and intoxicating. Jay’s wild energy, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world—sent a shiver down your spine every time you thought about it.

The office had grown quieter since then. People whispered about the sudden disappearance of your colleague, speculating everything from a sudden transfer to something more sinister. You kept your head down, your lips sealed, and Jay? Jay acted like nothing had ever happened, except when it came to you.

You felt him everywhere. His gaze burned into you during meetings, his hand brushed yours at the coffee machine, his voice low and dangerous when he spoke your name. It was suffocating and addictive all at once.

“You’re distracted,” Jay murmured one afternoon, his voice startling you. He was leaning against your desk, his tie slightly loosened, looking every bit like the confident, composed professional everyone thought he was. But his eyes—they told a different story. They always did.

“I’m just tired,” you lied, trying to focus on your computer screen, though the heat of his presence made it impossible.

“Liar.” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it. He leaned closer, his fingers trailing along the edge of your desk. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t need one. Jay was good at reading you, too good.

“You should come by my place tonight,” he said casually, like he was suggesting something as mundane as grabbing a coffee. But there was nothing casual about the way his fingers brushed your wrist, the way his tone promised so much more than just conversation.

“Why?” you managed to ask, your voice steadier than you thought possible.

“Because,” he said, his lips curling into that devilish smirk that always sent your thoughts spiraling, “I like having you close. And you like it too, don’t you?”

There it was—Jay’s true colors, bold and unapologetic. He was dangerous, unrelenting, and completely unhinged. And yet, you couldn’t say no.

Because deep down, a part of you liked it. Maybe even loved it.

That night, you found yourself outside Jay’s apartment door, your heart pounding harder than you’d ever admit. You hadn’t even fully decided to come until your legs had taken you here on autopilot. Something about the way he consumed you, mind and soul, left no room for logical thought.

Before you could knock, the door swung open. Jay stood there, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of his chest, his hair slightly disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it.

“You’re late,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“You didn’t give me a time,” you shot back, feigning confidence you didn’t really feel.

He chuckled low, a sound that made your stomach flip. “Touché. Come in.”

You stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind you, the sound feeling heavier than it should have. His place was exactly what you expected—sleek, modern, and meticulously clean, but somehow it still felt like him. The air was warm, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered everywhere, pulling you further under his spell.

“Drink?” he offered, already heading toward the kitchen.

“No, I’m good,” you replied, shifting awkwardly on your feet.

He returned moments later, empty-handed, but his eyes were locked on you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re tense,” he observed, closing the space between you in a few long strides.

“I wonder why,” you said sarcastically, though your voice wavered.

Jay tilted his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “What? Are you scared?”

Your breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers ghosting over your jaw before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to be,” he murmured, his voice soft. “I’d never hurt you.”

The way he said it, so certain and sincere, made your chest ache. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. Jay would never hurt you, no. But the lengths he’d go to for you? Those would destroy everything—and everyone—in his path.

“I should go,” you said, the words barely audible, even to yourself.

“But you won’t.” His hands were on your waist now, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Because you don’t want to.”

He was right. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to run. You wanted him, in all his terrifying, obsessive glory.

“Jay—”

“Shh.” He silenced you with a kiss, his lips rough and demanding, stealing whatever protests you thought you had. His hands gripped you tighter, his body pressing yours against the wall as if he couldn’t stand even a fraction of space between you.

You let yourself melt into him, into the chaos and the fire. Because with Jay, that’s all there ever was—chaos and fire.

And, God help you, you craved it.

Jay’s kisses grew wilder, more desperate, like he was a man starved, and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His grip on your waist tightened, almost bruising, and his body pressed you harder against the wall, leaving no room to breathe—not that you cared.

“It’s been too long,” he rasped against your lips, his voice raw with need. His hands roamed over you, searing through the fabric of your clothes. “So beautiful...”

Your response came out as a broken gasp when his teeth grazed your neck, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you arch into him, and his low growl sent shivers down your spine.

“Jay—” you managed to choke out, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone.

“I can’t stop,” he confessed, his voice strained like he was losing a battle with himself. “Not when it’s you. Never when it’s you.”

His words ignited something deep inside you, both fear and exhilaration that only Jay could elicit. He lifted you effortlessly as he carried you toward the couch, his eyes never leaving yours.

He laid you down gently, hovering over you, his hands braced on either side of your head, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his weight pressing you into the cushions, his lips trailing a path down your jawline.

“It’s been too long since I could touch you like this,” he murmured, his voice rough and shaky. “Too long since I could feel you, taste you, claim you.”

Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded to him, arching into his touch. His hand slid under your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours making you shiver.

“Say you want this,” he demanded, his voice low but commanding. “Say you want me.”

“I do,” you whispered, the words barely audible but enough to send a dark smile curling his lips.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he growled, and then he was kissing you again, harder, deeper, as if he was trying to consume every part of you.

And you let him, because in that moment, Jay was everything—your fire, your chaos, your undoing.

a/n: Happy birthday bayyy! Hope today goes amazing for you! Love yaaa <333

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[clitorphosis]

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

[manmuncher777]

UNDER THEIR WATCH

・❥・ Satoru Gojo x reader x Suguru Geto

・❥・ In which the reader gets assigned with the most obnoxious first years for a mission, tensions rise. And of course… theres only one bed.

・❥・ warnings! SMUT 18+ p in v, unprotected sex, spanking, pet names, threesome, oral f and m, mild facefucking, fingering.

・❥・A/N - Holy shit thank you guys so so much for 6k likes on one of my fics, im so amazed. So in thanks I decided to extend the idea. I am so greatful to all 750 of my beautiful followers. PLEASE LIKE, COMMET, AND REBLOG THIS FIC

ALSO MY REQUESTS ARE FUCKING OPEN, PLEASE SEND ME SUMMMMM ❤️

You’d always prided yourself on being unshakable, but Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru tested that resolve at every turn.

They were a pair of opposites that somehow operated in perfect harmony, balancing one another so seamlessly that it felt almost unnatural. Gojo, all sharp edges and searing brightness, was impossible to miss. He carried himself like the world existed for his amusement, his white hair and perpetually cocky grin making him stand out no matter the setting. His teasing was relentless, and he had a knack for getting under your skin with just a few words.

Then there was Geto. Where Gojo was loud and brash, Geto was calm and collected. He moved through the world with a quiet confidence that was almost more dangerous than Gojo’s in-your-face arrogance. His rich voice always seemed to carry just enough amusement to leave you second-guessing yourself, as if every interaction was a game he was playing and you were the unwitting opponent.

As a second-year at Jujutsu High, you were well aware of your reputation as the strongest in your year. It wasn’t something you flaunted, but it was a title you’d earned, and you wore it with quiet pride. That pride, however, took a hit whenever you found yourself in the presence of the school’s infamous third-year duo.

Satoru made a point of reminding you of your place whenever he could.

“Don’t feel bad, Shortstack,” he’d say, slinging an arm around your shoulders like you were old friends. The sheer size of him made you bristle, his tall frame utterly dwarfing yours. “Not everyone can be me”

You’d shove his arm off, scowling. “Thank God for that.”

Suguru, ever the smoother of tensions, would chuckle at the exchange, his deep voice somehow managing to be both warm and teasing. “She’s got a point, Satoru. The world can only handle one of you.”

Then he’d meet your gaze, his dark eyes crinkling with a smile that could almost be called kind if it weren’t for the faint glint of mischief in them. “But you have to admit, you’re lucky to have us around. We’re setting the bar for you, after all.”

They were infuriating. And yet, there was no denying the strange pull they had, not just on you, but on everyone around them. Satoru’s raw power and Suguru’s measured confidence made them a force to be reckoned with, and standing next to them often felt like being caught in the eye of a storm.

But you weren’t one to be overshadowed. You’d earned your place at Jujutsu High, and you weren’t about to let their larger-than-life presence make you doubt your own strength.

Still, as much as you hated to admit it, their friendship fascinated you. The way they moved in sync, their banter so effortless it was like they shared the same brain—it was a connection you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. And when they turned that attention on you, teasing and pushing and prodding, it was hard not to feel like a mouse caught between two very large cats.

Every interaction with them was a battle, and while you hated to lose, there was something about the way they pushed you, challenged you, that made you want to keep fighting.

You just wished they weren’t so damn tall. Towering over you like some kind of gods

You leaned against the doorframe of the small conference room, arms crossed as you surveyed the chaos inside. Gojo Satoru was sprawled out across a chair, his legs stretched impossibly far and his blindfold pushed up just enough for his piercing blue eyes to peek through. He was tossing a pen into the air and catching it lazily, his grin wide enough to reveal just how much he was enjoying Yaga’s barely-contained irritation.

Suguru Geto, on the other hand, sat beside him, deceptively poised as he tapped his fingers against the table. The small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his role in their synchronized mischief.

Yaga sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you two pretend to act like professionals for five minutes?”

“I am being professional,” Gojo said, spinning his pen between his fingers with maddening ease. “You haven’t even told us the mission yet. I’m conserving energy.”

Suguru chuckled, tilting his head in mock consideration. “You can’t fault him for being efficient, Yaga-sensei.”

You bit back a snort, earning Suguru’s attention. He raised a brow, his gaze flicking to you with an amused gleam. “And here I thought you’d be the voice of reason.”

“Don’t lump me in with you two,” you shot back, stepping fully into the room. “I actually respect Yaga-sensei enough to listen.”

Gojo’s grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. “Respect, huh? Sounds like someone’s trying to score extra credit.”

“Or maybe,” Suguru mused, “she just wants us to think she’s better behaved than she really is.”

You rolled your eyes, but the slight warmth in your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

“Enough,” Yaga said, cutting through their teasing with a sharp tone. He motioned for you to sit, and you took the chair furthest from Gojo, only for Suguru to shift closer with a casual ease that made your pulse quicken.

“The three of you will be heading to Tokyo for this mission,” Yaga began, his voice all business now. “There have been reports of curse activity in multiple locations across the city. It’s unusual in both volume and concentration, which is why I’m sending the three of you together.”

“Tokyo, huh?” Gojo perked up, letting his chair fall back onto all four legs. “Sounds fun. Maybe we’ll grab some ramen while we’re there. You like ramen, don’t you, Shortstack?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Suguru chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he glanced at you. “She’s right, Satoru. We should be more respectful. After all, she is the strongest second year.”

The words were polite, but his tone was teasing, and the way his dark eyes lingered on you made you squirm.

“I can see why you two are best friends,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“Best friends?” Gojo repeated with mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “We’re more like soulmates.”

“Twin flames,” Suguru added dryly, earning a laugh from Gojo.

Yaga ignored their antics, handing out the mission details before delivering the news that made your stomach drop.

“You’ll be staying in Tokyo for at least three days,” he said, flipping through the file. “We’ve arranged accommodations for you at a nearby inn.”

The silence that followed was unnerving, especially coming from Gojo and Suguru. You narrowed your eyes, suspicious as the two exchanged a glance.

“Something wrong?” you asked.

Gojo’s grin returned, wider and sharper than before. “Oh, nothing’s wrong. It’s just—”

“We’re sharing a room,” Suguru finished, his voice calm but no less smug.

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“It’s standard for missions,” Yaga said, clearly unaware of the tension now thrumming through the room. “And with Tokyo’s prices, it’s the most practical option.”

“Practical,” you echoed weakly, your mind racing at the thought of spending three days—nights included—with the most infuriating duo at Jujutsu High.

“It’ll be fun,” Gojo said, leaning back again with that irritatingly easygoing grin. “Like a sleepover. You can braid our hair, Shortstack.”

Suguru chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Or we can braid yours.”

“Enough,” Yaga snapped, cutting off whatever retort you were about to make. “Focus on the mission. You leave first thing tomorrow.”

The meeting ended quickly after that, but the smirks on Gojo and Suguru’s faces lingered, following you out of the room like shadows.

“You nervous?” Gojo teased as you walked toward the dorms, his voice lilting with fake concern.

“Nervous you’ll snore,” you shot back.

Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Satoru. She seems more worried about us getting too close.”

You glared at him, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks. “I’m worried about my sanity.”

The two of them laughed, their voices blending in a way that made your chest tighten. This mission was going to be hell.

And yet, despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the faint flicker of excitement beneath your frustration.

The Tokyo streets were bustling with their usual chaotic energy, but as you and the boys walked through the dimly lit alley leading to the inn, a strange, almost suffocating quiet seemed to settle around the three of you. The mission had gone smoothly enough for the day—surveillance was tedious, but necessary, and you were all more than capable of handling it. Still, the weight of the day lingered, and the air was thick with something else now.

You were too aware of the proximity between you and the boys, even as you tried to focus on the mundane task of finding the inn. Gojo had, unsurprisingly, been goading you with teasing remarks about your “seriousness” during the mission. Suguru, ever the cool and composed one, had offered little more than a few knowing glances, his dark eyes always glinting with something that sent your pulse racing.

By the time you reached the inn, you were more than ready to retreat into the safety of your room—except for one small problem.

The front desk clerk had handed Suguru the key, and as he walked over to the room, you followed him with a feeling of dread creeping up your spine. You’d known something was off when you’d seen Gojo’s smug little grin, and now you couldn’t help but feel that you were walking right into some kind of trap.

Suguru unlocked the door with a casual flick of his wrist, pushing the door open to reveal the inside. You froze in the doorway, blinking at what you saw.

There, in the center of the room, was a single large bed—big enough for two, but a bed nonetheless.

You stared at it in disbelief. “There’s only one bed?”

Gojo, who had been hovering at your shoulder, grinned ear to ear. “One bed, huh? I guess we’ll just have to make do.”

Suguru’s lips twitched upward, his eyes never leaving your face as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, princess, we’re more than capable of sharing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not sleeping with you two.”

“Well, you’ll have to take the couch then,” Gojo said, his voice nonchalant as he shrugged out of his jacket. He was already taking the liberty of unbuckling his belt, clearly unbothered by the situation. “I mean, it's only fair. You’re the third wheel here, after all.”

You shot him a look, but your irritation only seemed to amuse him more. Suguru, ever the calculated one, just took a few steps into the room, his voice a low murmur.

“Is that what you really want, though?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze settling heavy on your skin. For a split second, you considered the thought—taking the couch, being left to your own space. But then you remembered the absurdity of the situation.

“Fine, you two share the bed,” you said, trying to maintain an air of calm that you definitely didn’t feel. “I’ll just make do.”

Gojo’s grin grew wider, and Suguru, still leaning against the doorframe, eyed you thoughtfully. His voice, now laced with something darker and more teasing, was just the right mix of sweet and dangerous.

“You sure you don’t want to be closer to us?” Suguru asked, his smile slow, deliberate. “You can always join us.”

You rolled your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the blush creeping up your neck. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Gojo, of course, wasn’t about to let you get away that easily. “C’mon, don’t be shy. We won’t bite. Well, I won’t bite,” he added, giving Suguru a quick side-eye. “Suguru might.”

Suguru let out a soft chuckle, eyes twinkling in amusement as he slowly pulled the cover back on the bed, clearly making himself at home. You shot him a look of pure disbelief.

“Are you two seriously acting like this right now?”

Suguru ignored you, unbothered as ever, and Gojo wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was enjoying this. He flopped back on the bed, bouncing slightly before throwing one arm behind his head. “You know, if you wanted to snuggle up, all you had to do was ask.”

You refused to dignify that with a response. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked over to the couch, crossing your arms in the most nonchalant way you could manage—though, in truth, your heartbeat was racing in your chest.

Gojo’s voice carried over to you as you settled yourself uncomfortably on the couch. “You sure you’re okay out there, Shortstack? The couch isn’t the most comfortable place for someone like you.”

You smirked, resisting the urge to glance back at him. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure you don’t fall off the bed, ‘cause you’re the one who wanted to share.”

Suguru’s low chuckle rumbled from the bed. “And here I thought you were the one with no sense of humor. You’re not as stiff as you look, huh?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “This is the worst.”

Gojo’s grin, the same one that never quite seemed to fade, only grew. “Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fun. We’ll all make it work. I mean, we’re gonna be stuck together for the next few days, might as well enjoy it, right?”

You shifted on the couch, still trying your best to ignore the way their voices seemed to surround you. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken things you couldn’t name. It wasn’t just the mission anymore. It was the way their teasing comments lingered, the way they towered over you, the way their presence filled every corner of the room.

You bit your lip, trying to fight off the flush creeping across your cheeks. They might be frustrating, but damn if they weren’t also impossible to ignore.

And that was exactly what made this situation the worst—and also, maybe, the most exciting.

The evening had fallen quickly over the city, painting the sky with hues of dark blue and orange. The tension from earlier in the room hadn’t fully dissipated, but it had been replaced by the warm exhaustion of the mission being over. You had stretched out on the couch, closing your eyes for just a moment—just long enough to take a breather, to let your mind wander.

But the moment you drifted into sleep, you were awoken by the unmistakable sound of Gojo’s voice.

"Princess, wake up," he said, a little too cheerfully. "We’ve got places to be."

You squinted against the blinding light that filled the room from the open window. There they were: both Gojo and Suguru standing in front of you, already dressed in their clothes, their presence too commanding for someone still recovering from a nap.

“What time is it?” you muttered, rubbing at your eyes. Your head felt a little too heavy, still clouded by the remnants of sleep.

“Time to stop napping and start living,” Gojo teased, walking over to you with an almost mischievous grin. “We’re going to hit a bar in Tokyo—mission’s done, and we still have time to kill before heading back. Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”

You groaned, still half-dazed. “A bar? I don’t even have any clothes to—"

“That’s the part we’ve got covered,” Suguru interrupted smoothly, holding up a bag that had been carefully placed beside the bed. He set it down in front of you. “We packed a little something for you.”

You stared at the bag, suspicion flooding your system as you hesitated. “You packed clothes for me?”

Gojo’s grin was wide and almost taunting. “Of course! How could we let our lovely second-year go out looking like she’s just woken up from a nap?”

Suguru, on the other hand, gave you that same quiet, knowing look, his lips curling ever so slightly. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll look great in whatever we chose.”

Your eyes narrowed, still unwilling to fully believe them. “You didn’t pack anything ridiculous, did you?”

“Oh, we did,” Gojo answered with a wink. “You’ll see.”

You looked from one boy to the other, your heart already racing for reasons you couldn’t quite place. But you were too tired to argue at this point—and besides, the prospect of a bar in Tokyo seemed to offer the perfect escape from the stress of the mission and the strange dynamics of your current situation.

“I’ll be quick,” you muttered, reluctantly standing up from the couch and walking over to the bag. You unzipped it slowly, not sure what to expect.

The idea of a night out with Gojo and Suguru was tempting, no doubt. But the prospect of navigating your... complicated relationship with the two boys while surrounded by Tokyo’s night-life made your stomach twist with nervous energy. You didn’t know why the idea of them watching you—teasing you—felt so different tonight. But the playful looks they exchanged earlier only made your pulse race a little faster, and now, here you were, left with a bag of clothes they so thoughtfully packed for you.

You hadn’t really expected much when you’d opened it, but you were definitely surprised by the black dress. It was simple but undeniably flattering, clinging to all the right places. It was a little out of your usual comfort zone, but the moment you slid it on, you couldn’t deny the effect it had on you. It fit like a glove, accentuating your curves, and as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your breath hitched.

You hadn’t heard them at first—Gojo and Suguru were already dressed and ready, standing by the door, but the sound of their voices brought you back to the present.

"Princess, are you ready yet?" Gojo’s voice came from the other side of the door, playful, almost mocking. "We can’t leave without you. You’ve gotta hurry."

A faint blush crept up your neck at the sound of his teasing. You were still working on your makeup, your hand trembling slightly as you tried to concentrate on your eyeliner. You hadn’t realized how much their presence had affected you until now, and the attention you were already getting—just from their casual glances and playful comments—was enough to make your heart race.

You finished your makeup quickly, but as you adjusted your hair in the mirror, you couldn’t help but notice the way Gojo and Suguru both leaned against the door frame, watching you. They weren’t hiding it—both of them were staring, their eyes gliding over you like they were savoring the moment.

And gods, they looked good.

Gojo’s dress shirt was a crisp white, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the muscles in his forearms. His usual carefree grin tugged at the corner of his lips, his messy white hair falling perfectly around his face. He always looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine, effortlessly perfect. But tonight, he looked even better somehow. His scent—clean, fresh, with just a hint of something that made your stomach flutter—drifted over to you as he leaned closer.

Suguru was just as handsome, but his approach was different. His black shirt fit snugly over his chest, the fabric stretching over his broad shoulders, his dark eyes gleaming with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He didn’t have to speak to command attention; it was in the quiet way he held himself. And the way he smelled—earthy and warm, like a soft cologne mixed with the slight scent of tobacco—was enough to make you feel all sorts of things you weren’t sure how to name.

You swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure.

“Are you ready, Shortstack?” Gojo’s voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge to it. His eyes lingered a little longer than necessary, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks once again.

You took a deep breath and turned to gather your things. But as you did, Gojo’s playful voice followed you. “Hurry up, or I might just have to carry you out of here.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Well, well. Look at you.”

Gojo smirked. “I told you, Suguru. She cleans up nice.”

You quickly tried to look away, but you could feel Suguru’s gaze settle on you. “You look stunning,” he murmured, his tone more serious than Gojo’s, but no less intense. “Definitely glad we packed that for you.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, but it was hard to stay mad when the air between the three of you was thick with something unspoken. Something that felt like it was just waiting to spill over. You grabbed your things, took one last look in the mirror, and stepped out to face the boys once again.

You gave them both a quick, self-conscious smile. “Thanks.” The word came out softer than you intended, but their constant attention was making it hard to focus on anything else.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your heart was hammering in your chest. “Alright, enough with the compliments. Let’s just get this over with.”

Suguru chuckled softly, that low sound sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s the spirit.”

They were both so close now, practically crowding you, and you couldn’t help but feel the way their presence loomed over you. They had always been bigger—taller, more imposing—but tonight, the tension was palpable, thick in the air.

You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the idea of getting out of this hotel room and into the bustling streets of Tokyo. But as you all stepped toward the door, Gojo’s hand brushed lightly against your back, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

Satoru glanced at you again, his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile. “You look good enough to cause trouble.”

The way he said it, low and smooth, only made you feel that much more exposed, like the night was just beginning, and you had no idea where it would take you—or what might happen between the three of you.

But one thing was for sure. It was going to be a night to remember.

The bar buzzed with the low hum of conversation, the faint clink of glasses, and the soft thrum of music filling the air. You sat between Gojo and Suguru, the two of them practically towering over you as they leaned in, their attention entirely on you. The dark interior of the bar, lit only by neon signs and dim pendant lights, seemed to accentuate the heat between the three of you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so… exposed.

Gojo had already ordered you your first drink—a bright pink cocktail that looked as sweet as it tasted. Suguru had followed suit, making sure your glass was never too empty. They kept a close eye on you all night, their eyes wandering over you with that familiar mischievous glint. And though their presence was more than enough to keep you on edge, there was something about tonight that felt different. Maybe it was the drinks, the way they’d kept fending off advances from other men, or maybe it was simply the atmosphere—the one where things that had once been so casual were beginning to feel more… intimate.

You could hardly focus on the conversation as both of them leaned in every now and then, their voices low and teasing, keeping the flirtation between you alive. Gojo had a habit of making the smallest comments, his voice light and mocking, but the way he looked at you spoke volumes. Suguru, on the other hand, was quieter, his glances more deliberate, his words slower, as if savoring every moment. Every time he’d catch your eye, his lips would curl up just slightly, like he was enjoying the power he had over you.

"How are you holding up, Shortstack?" Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts. You could feel his body pressing close as his arm slid over the back of your chair, almost touching your shoulders. "You look like you might need another drink," he teased, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck lightly.

You could feel the heat of your face rising, your heartbeat speeding up as he leaned in a little closer. "I’m fine," you murmured, trying to sound unaffected by his proximity. But it was hard to ignore the weight of his presence.

“Fine? Nah, I don’t think so,” Gojo chuckled, pouring you another drink. The sound of the liquid filling the glass was almost too loud, the slight tilt of his head making you acutely aware of his gaze. “You’ve gotta have a good time tonight, y’know. You’re our guest.”

Suguru watched you, his eyes soft but knowing, almost predatory. “I think she’s enjoying herself, Gojo,” he commented, a playful edge to his tone. “You’re just distracting her, like always.” His hand brushed against yours as he reached for his own drink, and you could have sworn you felt a spark at the touch.

You tried to ignore the heat rising in your chest, but it was hard when the two of them were so effortlessly close. Suguru leaned in, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “Besides, it’s hard not to enjoy yourself when you’re surrounded by two handsome men like us.”

Your blush deepened. “I—stop it.” You stammered, trying to focus on your drink but completely aware of how the space between the three of you seemed to shrink with every passing second.

But just as you were about to try and regain some semblance of composure, a man from across the bar sauntered over, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you immediately uncomfortable. He flashed a smile, completely unaware of the two towering figures beside you. “Hey there,” he said, leaning a little too close for comfort. “You look like you could use some company.”

Before you could even react, Gojo’s arm shot out, effortlessly blocking the man’s path. “You’re a little too close, pal,” Gojo said, his voice low and dangerous despite the lazy smirk on his face. “She’s already taken care of, so why don’t you get lost?”

The guy stumbled back, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s imposing presence, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He turned to Suguru, giving him a look of challenge. “What, you two think she belongs to you? You can’t just claim her”

Gojo's smile didn't reach his eyes anymore; instead, it was cold, the kind of smile that promised nothing but danger. "I don't think I can. I already have, so why dont you fuck off?." His posture remained loose, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable.

Suguru didn’t even flinch, his gaze steady and calm. “One thing is for sure ” he replied smoothly, his voice a silky whisper. “She certainly doesn’t belong to you, so I’d suggest you step off before we make you.”

The man hesitated, then seemed to reconsider. With a glare at the three of you, he backed off, retreating into the crowd of the bar. You were left with a sense of relief, but also—surprisingly—something else. A feeling of possession, of being protected by them in a way that was... unexpected.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and Gojo leaned in close again, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckled. “Don’t worry, Shortstack. We’ve got you covered.” His voice was so casual, yet there was a hint of something darker beneath it.

Gojo casually swirled the drink in his hand, flashing you a look of reassurance, though the amusement still danced in his eyes. "You don’t have to worry about guys like that." He raised his glass to you, the playful glint in his eyes returning. "Not when you’ve got us around.”

Suguru didn’t say anything, but his fingers grazed the back of your hand, and the look he gave you spoke volumes. He wasn’t angry, just... satisfied. And the way his fingers lingered there, just for a second too long, sent another wave of heat through your body.

The atmosphere between the three of you had shifted once more, the protective nature of the boys now taking center stage. The tension was still there, palpable, but there was a subtle, deeper understanding that lingered in the air—a silent acknowledgment that tonight, you weren’t just a guest in their presence. You were theirs to look after, and no one would dare come between that.

Geto’s voice broke the silence as he grinned mischievously, that familiar carefree energy returning. "Now, how about we forget about that loser and have a little fun, huh?"

But even as he said it, Suguru's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something darker and more intent flashing in his eyes before he looked away with a quiet smile. There was no more teasing in his voice now. It was just the quiet certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted—and that tonight, you were a part of it.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the tension still simmered in the air. It was like everything was slowly starting to shift—the jokes, the teasing, all of it suddenly carrying more weight. The night was just beginning, and as the boys took their seats back beside you, the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in.

It wasn’t just a night out anymore. It was a night with them—and somehow, you weren’t sure how much more of this teasing you could take before you gave in to the attraction you were trying so hard to ignore.

The night seems to stretch on, the air between the three of you thick with an intoxicating mixture of alcohol and unspoken intentions. The bar has started to quiet down a little, leaving you, Gojo, and Suguru in a cozy, dimly lit corner booth. The buzz of the crowd and the clinking of glasses fades as the attention in the room becomes drawn solely to the three of you.

Gojo’s gaze hasn’t left you since the awkward interaction with the other guy. It’s almost unsettling how intense it is, that smile of his never fading—yet it’s darker now, more calculating. His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, a knowing glint dancing in them.

“So, You gonna flirt back?” he asks, his voice teasing, his finger tracing the rim of his glass idly. "Or are you letting us do all the work tonight?” He’s giving you that playful challenge, and the way he says it feels like a dare.

Before you can even answer, Suguru’s voice slides in from your other side, smooth and almost coaxing. “She doesn’t need to answer that,” he says with a smirk, leaning in just a little, the scent of his cologne—warm, woodsy, and faintly spicy—invading your senses. "The question is, what would you do if we decided to spoil you a little more tonight?” His voice dips lower as he lets the words linger, making it clear he’s not just talking about drinks anymore.

Your stomach flutters, your pulse quickening despite your best efforts to stay calm. They’re practically taking turns pulling you in, weaving their words like a careful trap. And you’re in it, stuck between them in a way you don’t quite know how to escape. Or maybe you don’t want to.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they’re both sitting. Gojo, as always, is close enough to brush against your side with the slightest movement, his long legs stretching across the booth like he owns the entire space. Suguru, on the other hand, remains a little more composed but no less overwhelming. His hand rests on the edge of the table, close enough that his fingers are mere inches from your own.

You try to focus on the conversation, but it’s impossible. They’re both watching you, waiting for your reaction, and the constant pull between them is starting to feel like an endless game. A game you never agreed to play but are somehow already losing.

Suguru leans in a little further, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this. We’re here for you, after all.” His words are teasing, but there’s an edge to them—an underlying current of something darker.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as your face flushes. "I—" you start to speak, but the words catch in your throat.

Gojo cuts in before you can finish, leaning over, his lips just a little too close to your ear as he adds, “You’re cute when you get flustered. But you’ve been doing this all night—trying to act like you’re not interested.” He chuckles softly, the sound rich with amusement. “We both know better, don’t we?”

Suguru grins, clearly enjoying the way your face turns even redder. “It’s funny,” he says casually, his voice rich with playful arrogance. “You think you can hide it from us, but we know exactly what you’re feeling.”

It’s suffocating, the way they speak to you—so confident, so sure. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to pull away. You can’t even look away. The way they hover over you, leaning in just enough to make you feel small and breathless, it’s like they’ve wrapped you up in a web of their own making.

Gojo, noticing your silence, tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the matter, princess? Too shy to admit you like the attention? Come on, we won’t bite,” he teases, but his voice holds that knowing lilt, like he knows exactly how you feel.

Suguru leans back in his seat, but his gaze is still laser-focused on you, watching your every move. “We can take it slow,” he offers with a raised brow. “But we both know it’s not really about that. You want this—just as much as we do.” His smile is almost predatory, but there’s still that warmth, that care that lingers in his tone.

Your breath hitches, caught between their words and the heat building in your chest. You wish you could escape the intensity of it all, but there’s no way to. They’ve drawn you in, and now you’re at their mercy, just as much a part of this as they are.

Gojo’s finger taps lightly on the edge of his glass, drawing your attention once again. “You still haven’t told us what you want,” he teases, his voice a soft, persistent tug on your nerves. “So, let’s make this easy. Do you want us to keep the night going, or are you too shy to keep up?”

Suguru doesn’t even wait for an answer, leaning in once more and catching your lips with his eyes. “You don’t have to answer right away,” he murmurs, his voice calm yet daring. “But we’re both getting impatient.”

It’s too much, too close, and the teasing undercurrent between them is almost palpable. And now you’re stuck, caught in the web of their attention, unable to say anything but let yourself be swept along by their ever-increasing energy.

You’re trapped—and it feels so good.

The door clicks shut behind you as the three of you enter the hotel room. The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of the night’s flirtations following you inside. It’s a quiet room, but the tension is palpable, humming in the space between you.

Before you can even take a breath, both of them are there. Gojo’s hand finds your back, pressing you gently but firmly toward him, while Suguru is right beside you, his fingers brushing against your arm like a whisper of heat. Their proximity is overwhelming, and the alcohol still courses through your veins, making everything feel just a little more intense, a little more exciting.

“Had enough of the crowds?” Gojo murmurs, his voice low, eyes glittering behind those dark shades he hasn’t bothered to take off yet. It’s a teasing question, but his smirk says he already knows the answer.

Suguru’s gaze is steady, but there’s something there, something that makes your stomach flip. “Think you’re ready for some quiet time?” he asks, his voice so smooth it feels like velvet on your skin. His hand brushes across your hip, sending a shiver up your spine.

You feel like you’re caught between them—enticed, but unsure. It’s all so overwhelming, yet thrilling.

Before you can gather your bearings, Gojo steps closer, tipping your chin up with his finger. The heat from his body radiates off him, his lips barely a breath away. “You’ve been a good girl tonight, haven’t you?” His voice drops lower, a hint of challenge in it.

Suguru, always in tune with Gojo, leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “He’s right, you’ve been so good, letting us treat you like this.” His breath is warm against your skin, and you feel that same flutter in your chest that’s become all too familiar.

The room is thick with desire, and for a moment, the world outside of this hotel room feels miles away. There’s no more playful banter now, just an unspoken understanding between the three of you that tonight is something different.

Gojo moves first, the gentle touch of his hand on your neck sending a spark through your entire body. Slowly, deliberately, he presses his lips against yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters. The kiss deepens, and you feel his hand slide to the back of your neck, anchoring you against him. You can’t help but melt into it, the tension of the night finally snapping, leaving only the heat between the three of you.

Suguru’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you in closer as he places his lips against your temple, his warm breath a soft contrast to the intensity of Gojo’s kiss. You’re surrounded, engulfed in warmth and longing, and for a brief moment, it feels like nothing else matters.

When Gojo pulls back, his lips leaving yours with a faint trace of a smile, Suguru is there, his eyes dark, a satisfied glint dancing in them. “Told you, didn’t we?” he murmurs softly, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

It’s not just a kiss. It’s a promise of something more, something unspoken but undeniable.

“Knew you were going to end up like this for us” Suguru murmurs into you skin, he lips kissing gently across your cheeks until he reaches your lips, snatching them up in a kiss. His kiss is different to Gojo’s, gentler. Still with the bubbling undertone of want that flowed through the air.

You were hot, and definitely drunk, but you weren’t so sure it was from the alcohol anymore. Their kisses addictive.

Slowly the men managed to shift you through the room, never removing themselves from your body. Small steps guiding you towards the bed as they set you down, sitting either side of you, kissing their way down your neck. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it was like all your senses where hyper focused on Gojo and Geto. Goosebumps prickled over you skin as they made their way down your neck. Still in sync, but each of their movement carry characteristics of each men. Gojo moved quicker, more eager. Not leaving a single patch of skin on your neck un-kissed. Nipping and biting at the skin as he went. Geto was slower, taking him time to litter kisses all over, stopping momentarily to suck on certain spots on your neck. Settling on the sweet spot right near your pulse point that had you moaning breathily.

Geto’s hand was the first to touch you, his hand resting on your knee, caressing your thigh, Gojo was next, his hand travelling further and further up your leg teasingly. Both of the men listening intently to your reactions to their touches.

Your head tipping back allowing them more access to ravage you skin with marks, Gojo’s kissing travelling further down towards your breasts, kissing the skin that poked out the neckline of your dress. His hand dancing daringly close to where you needed it. Further and further up your thigh until it ghosted over your panties. His hand gathering the material of your dress.

The sharp gasp you let out telling all the men they needed to know as they pulled away from your neck. You were speechless. Both of them unbuttoning the shirts they had on, and as fucking amazing they looked with them on, they looked even better with them off.

The air in the room is thick with the remnants of the kiss, your heartbeat still racing in your chest as you try to steady yourself. Gojo and Suguru are standing there, shirtless, their broad chests and toned muscles on full display. They move with such confidence, it feels almost like they’re daring you to react. And you do—because, despite yourself, you can’t look away. It’s like you can still feel them on your skin, its burning from their touch.

Gojo, ever the cocky one, leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are locked on yours, a lazy grin curling on his lips as he surveys you from head to toe. “Still catching your breath, huh?” he teases, voice dripping with amusement. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. It’s cute when you’re flustered.”

Suguru sits on the bed, his posture relaxed, but his eyes burn with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. He’s got that knowing look on his face, the one that says he’s completely in control of the situation, and the fact that you can’t help but notice only fuels his confidence. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been staring at us, sweets,” he says, his voice low and purposeful. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to look. Just don’t forget, we’re used to being the center of attention.”

Gojo chuckles at Suguru’s words, his grin widening as he takes a step closer. “That’s right. But don’t worry, we don’t mind sharing,” he adds, his voice light but with that edge of something darker, something more calculated. “After all, you’ve been a little shy tonight, haven’t you? Hiding behind your cool exterior, pretending like you’re not into us.”

Suguru stands up, moving toward you with the same fluid, predatory grace that’s become second nature to him. His eyes never leave you, his smile never faltering. “But we see through that act, princess,” he says softly, stepping into your personal space. “We know what you really want. You can stop pretending now.”

Gojo follows, closing the gap between you with his signature cocky swagger. He leans in just enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, his presence overwhelming. “You’ve been teasing us all night, haven’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping low. “You know what you’re doing. Playing hard to get. But we’re not the type to let you get away with it for long.”

Suguru’s fingers graze the side of your arm, sending a shiver down your spine as his eyes flicker to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “You’re not the only one with patience,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But even we have limits.”

Gojo laughs, the sound rich and low, a teasing note laced through it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. We get it. You’re just waiting for us to make the first move, right?” His finger lightly brushes your chin, lifting your face so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Well, you don’t have to wait anymore.”

Suguru steps closer, his breath warm on your neck as he leans in just enough for you to feel his presence. “You’ve been looking at us all night,” he murmurs, his tone full of heat. “And now, you’re going to get exactly what you want.”

Their words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, their proximity making it harder and harder to think straight. Your breath catches in your throat as they tower over you, teasing you with their words, their bodies, and their shared understanding of the game you’re all playing.

It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for this moment, for you to crack, to let go of the wall you’ve built around yourself. And with every passing second, it’s becoming harder to resist the pull they’re creating.

You know what they’re doing, but somehow, it only makes the tension more unbearable.

They are the first to move, Satoru sitting on the bed, pulling you so you sat in his lap, your back pressed against his muscular chest. You went to protest, confusion on your features but Suguru is beating you to it

“Shhh sweets, just relax for us” Us. As much as you didnt want it to, that turned you on. You allowed Satoru to manhandle you into his lap as Geto positioned himself between your legs on the bed. Holy fuck, this was way to erotic for your mind to handle.

Satoru’s long fingers swiped their way down to your breasts, kneading the soft flash over the material of your dress. Your pink lips being brought between your teeth, you couldnt help but bite on the flesh, trying to stifle your moans. That didn’t’ t last for much longer however, when you glanced down to see Suguru peeling your panties down your thighs, his eyes glued onto your dripping entrance. You had never felt so vulnerable before, but it wasn;t uncomfortable. You just couldnt believe you were revealing yourselves to them like this. Your mind was cut shirt, not given the chance to over think and Gojo slips your tits out of your dress. Pulling the material down and allowing them to spill out. A light moan leaving his mouth as he plays with the skin.

“Damn baby, can’t believe you were hiding all this from us for so long, you’re so pretty.” He whispers, his lips tickling your ear as he spoke. His words resonating deep within you, prickling your skin as his touch never ceased.

“Fucking perfect” Suguru echos, agreeing with his friend. He sounds a lot more… feral however, his mouth hovering so close to where you needed him, but he wasn’t going to just dive in. He had to savour this moment. His fingers pulling at your skin gently, admiring your already slick folds, shining in the dim light of the room. Quietly groaning to himself as your writhed under his touch. It was so light, bordering on teasing.

He couldn’t stop himself from running a finger through your folds, gathering your slick on the tip, before bringing the digit up to his lips, and sucking slowly. All while never breaking eyecontact with you, teasing fuck.

You whines pathetically, you were sure why, maybe to beg for more, maybe because of satoru’s fingers rolling your nipples so cruelly. Or maybe that fucking look Geto was giving you as he sucked his fingers clean.

“You even taste perfect sweets.” He groaned out, almost like he was expecting this. He wasted not a second more, large hands gripping your hips, pushing the material of your skirt over your hips before diving in. He tried to start of slow - he really did. Taking little kitten licks, that then turned into thick stripes. But that wasnt enough, he wanted you to suffocate him, he didn’t want to be able to think about anything else but that sweet little cunt you had been hiding from him.

You couldn’t help but cry out in shock, your hand trying to grasp at his hair. Geto did the best he could to hold you still, recieving no help from Gojo who was too busy playing with your tits and chuckling at the noises you were making.

“F-Fuck! Suguru” You yelp, his tongue never slowing in its movements. He was devouring you, using his hands to push your further down onto his face.

He was already covered. Your slick dripping down his face as he moved messily. He didnt even care, he wanted it so bad. His nose bumping against you clit with each sloppy kiss he left against you cunt. Sucking on your pussy so happily. Groaning as you tugged on his hair so sweetly trying to get him to slow down. That was never going to happen

“Relax sweetheart, jus’ let him make you feel good, hmm?” Gojo whispered to you, pressing a sweet kiss to your head as you moaned out. God it was good, it was too good. The way you were the centre of attention was making your head spin. Satoru trailing hot kisses down your neck as he squeezed your nipple, loving the way you cried out from overstimulation. “Fucking love these tits”

You coul do nothing but just lie there and take what they were giving to you. Just accepting the way they were sharing you between them. Gojo was trying to calm you, cooing in your ear so sweetly, like he wasnt part of the reason tears of pleasure were brewing in your eyes. You must have looked a mess you thought, but to Satoru, you had never looked more perfect. Glossy eyes, puffy lips and his marks all over you. And god your tits, they were teasing him all night, poking out of the top of your dress like they were begging to be released. He moaned as he fondled them, his hands cupping them with a hunger. The way your nipples perked as soon as he got his hands on them, he never wanted to forget this sight.

You could already feel your orgasm building, you had never cum this quick before. That delicious sensation building in your abdomen as both them men continued their attacks on you. Suguru had been pretty silent in comparison to Gojo’s constant rambling. The only noises you could hear was crude slurps and groans. You wriggled in his grip as your orgasm approached, the pleasure increasing with each swipe of his tongue.

“Satoru - ahh - sugu-“ You were trying so hard to form a sentence, not sure who you were trying to talk to.

“Awh you close already baby. Didn’t take long.” Gojo’s syrupy voice rang out in your ear once again, and you could swear the sound was pushing you even closer “You hear that Suguru, she’s close. Should we let her cum?”

Panic flies through you, they wouldn’t stop you right? You’re so close! Oh god please, they couldn’t

For the first time Suguru poked his head up, his fingers replacing his tongue, swirling over your puffy clit.

“M’ not sure. She’s been teasing us all night, don’t think she deserves it.” He grinning at you, smug. His face glistening with your slick as he speaks. That image you wanted to live in your head forever. Stray strands of hair floating in his face, gos he looked fucking angelic.

“True, she’s not been a very good girl for us” Gojo responds, and you can hear the shit eating grin in his voice. It was like they couldn’t hear your desperate whines. Discussing you as if you weren’t being destroyed by them both in that very moment, Gojo’s hands still massaging you tits as he shared a grin with Geto

“Not sure if I can keep away from her sweet little pussy though, she’s calling me back already.” The squelching of your soaked cunt floating through the room.

“No no no- Please!” Yo couldnt stop yourself from begging. They couldn’t leave you teetering on the edge like this, you needed to cum. Needed them to make you cum. “Please! D-Don’t stop!”

“What was that sweets? Please what?” Geto glances at you, that stupid smirk still gracing his features. He wanted you to beg, it was written all over him.

All the previous fight in you had gone, you didn’t have it in you to resist them anymore. “Please- make me cum! Fuck- need it”

“She even used her manners” Gojo chimes in once more, you’d slap the sarcastic bastard if he wasn’t making you shiver right now “You need it huh? How bad?”

“So bad ‘Toru! Please” Hoping the white haired man would show you some mercy.

“Oh yeah? What about me?” Suguru’s fingers dropped from your begging cunt, and your eyes snapped to him in a silent plea

“You too sugu, need you both.”

“There we go” And that smug grin between your legs was the last thing you saw before your eyes screwed shut. They were keeping you on the edge. But now, nothing could stop your orgasm from hitting you, hard.

You weren’t even sure what you were saying, screaming out both their names in a broken symphony, mixed in with a string of curses as your came. Your legs fucking shaking around Geto ‘s head, but that didn’t stop him. He was riding out your high along with Gojo, who was talking you through it so sweetly.

“Oh good girl, feels good huh?”

Whining was the only thing he got in response as the pleasure wracked your body. Practically quivering as your soaked Geto’s face.

Stupidly, you thought they might give you a second to recover, you were wrong. You were still laying there panting as Gojo was manhandling you once more. It was like you weighed nothing to him. He was careful with you as you mewled. Turning you over, picking you up and helping you onto all fours, facing the end of the bed.

“You ready for round 2?” Geto ‘s face appeared in front of yours as he asked you softly, stroking your slightly damp hair. Your legs were still quivering as you tried to catch your breath. Your fucked out eyes lifting to meet his. You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. He couldn’t help but chuckle

The men had swapped sides now, Gojo now placing himself between your legs as Geto was at your front. When you saw the dark haired man towering over you, you understood your current position. The kind and gentle look in his eyes moment ago, now replaced with something darker, hungrier.

You stared shamelessly as he unzipped his trousers, hearing Gojo do the same from behind you on the bed.

It was a good view you couldnt deny, his muscles defined by the low lighting, you stared at the vines in his arms popping as he rid himself of his trousers. His v-line teasing you as he pulled down his boxers. But nothing beat the sight of what came next. His cock sprung free, his hand stoking it slowly as his eyes never left you face. He was big, you had no idea how you were going to fit that in your mouth, and if Gojo was anything similar, you were in serious trouble

“Don’t look so nervous baby, we’ll be gentle” Suguru soothes, but the look in his eyes tells you the opposite.

“I don’t know Suguru, I want to break this pretty pussy in half” Gojo drawls, mesmerised by the sight before him. Your puffy pussy glistening, inviting him in. His hands tracing over the skin of your ass, squeezing the flesh. Before giving it a slap, watching as red splotches grace the skin.

“Be nice Satoru” Geto warns him, but you can hear the smile in his voice

“I always am…” That was a lie. You knew he was mean, just by the way he was rubbing his weeping tip through your folds.

You whined at the sensation, still overly sensitive from your orgasm just seconds ago. Suguru’s hand rested on top of your head, drawing your attention to him

“You ready?” He asked once more, making sure they weren’t pushing you too far. But to you, it wasnt enough. “Yes” your voice rang out, hoarsely

“Good, now open.” The command was simple, and you followed it eagerly. Your tongue lolling out as you waited for him.

Slowly he lined himself up with your mouth, resting his heavy tip on your tongue as he slid in, inch by inch into you. That gentle hand on your head now gripping your hair as he fucked your mouth, his hips slowly rocking back and forth as he was kind enough to give you some time to adjust.

“No fair, we should’ve started at the same time” Gojo complained from beind you but Geto was far to occupied to care about Hi childish complaints

He laughed out dryly “shut up Satoru”

Satoru didnt even bother to respond, too busy sinking his cock inside of you, he was less slow that Geto . Eager to be wrapped inside of your welcoming walls. The groan that left him was sinful as he fully sheathed himself inside you. He paused like that for a moment, breathing deeply, before his hips snapped into you again, and again, and again.

You moaned around Geto’s cock, being cut off each time he hit that back of your throat. Both the men still in sync as per usual, their thrusts following the same pace as they destroyed you. Your dress still scrunched around your middle, your ass completely out, along with your tits.

Gojo’s hands on your hips, using them to pull you back into each thrust, ensuring he was hitting as deep as he could each time. His shakey breaths could be heard over your shoulder, broken up by shuddering groans

“Shit- you weren’t lying sugu, this pussy-“ Gojo was struggling to keep himself together, struggling not to get lost in your body as he rambled on. He was watching himself, watching as he entered you pussy with such ease, watching as yout tried to suck him back in each time he pulled out. He was in heaven.

“Told you- s’fuckin’ perfect.” He gritted out. He was trying not to bully himself into the back of your throat, but god. You were taking him so well. Your eyes watering, stray tears falling down your face as he moved. Doing you best to suck his soul. Every now and your voice vibrating against his cock as you moaned. You while body shaking as your arms tried to support yourself.

Veins popping all over his flawless skin, poking through his hands as his grip on your hair never faulters, using you as an anchor to ground himself, trying to hold back. Veins bulging in his neck as he strains, doing everything he can to not cum early, he wants to enjoy this for as long as he can. But with how hard he’s been all evening, he doesnt know how he is going to last like this. The way your tongue glides up and down his shaft, tracing over the jagged veins that run up his base. The noises you make every time he hits the back of your throat. Those hollowed cheeks, wrapped around him so perfectly.

He couldn’t quite believe his luck, having you beneath him so sweetly while you allowed yourself to be shared between him and his best friend. Him and Satoru had always spoken about this, on nights where it was just them, sharing a beer. When they were discussing their classmates and the conversation would fall onto you. At first they would joke about you, how you could be a bit of a brat. Always whining at their jokes, nagging them. Then Satoru made a comment about your body, and the conversation took a turn. Discussing how they would share you, how tight you would be for them, how you would sound when they got their hands on you, what you would let them do to you. To say it was better than they imagined would be an understatement. Both men going home after that evening with an achingly hard cock, that conversation putting an imagine in their mind that they couldn’t escape.

Satoru was doing no better than Suguru in trying to keep himself in control. In fact he was finding it incredibly difficult. His hands never stopping, grabbing, caressing and stoking any part of you that he could get his hands on. The skin of your ass prickled with red and pink marks from where his large hands had been getting rough with you. Hand shaped prints on both your hips from where he had been gripping you so tightly. This was better than he had imagined, all those nights spent with his hand around his cock could not compare to how you felt right now. How natural it felt to be inside you. He never wanted to leave. You didnt want him to either. His cock repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside of you, you could hardly control the noises you were making, despite them being muffled by Suguru’s cock.

Finally Satoru ‘s hand found your clit. Gentle ghosting over the puffy bundle of nerves at first, fingertips getting coated in you juices. You jolted forwards at the sensation, every part of you feeling so sensitive to his touch. Geto choked out a moan, you sudden movement causing you to take him deep, your nose brushing against the skin on his stomach. Gojo did it again, a smile on his face. One more you let out a muffled yelp, moving away from his hands, trying to escape the stimulation.

“F-fucking hell- think she liked that.” Suguru chokes out. He’s getting too close now, and your sudden movements forward aren’t helping him

“Oh y-yeah? That feel good sweets?” One again his cruel fingers roll over your clit, applying more pressure this time. If you weren’t getting some of the best dick of your life you would make fun on the stuttering men, but you weren’t exactly keeping your composure either. This time however, gojos other hand was wrapped tightly around your waist, stopping any escape plan you had, forcing you to seat there and take what his was giving to you as you screamed out pathetically around Geto’s cock.

“Nuh-uh, don’t run from it. Just take it baby.” He’s cooing at you, and you obey. Succumbing to the pleasure. His fingers moving in fast circles around the bundle of nerves and you feel like youre going to explode. Your legs shaking, your hips trying to buck away from his movements, but your stuck there as he impales you on his cock. Once again you can feel an orgasm building, quickly and sharply in your stomach. Hot tears continuing to roll down your cheeks, dragging your makeup of the night with them.

“That’s it, let it out baby.” Geto spots the tears, stroking them gently from your face, his actions contrasting the harsh thrusting of his cock in your mouth

And there not much you can do to stop your orgasm as it crashed over you. Fucking wrecking you.

Eyes squeezing shut tightly as you convulse, unable to still yourself as you clench tightly around gojos cock. You cum hard, juices flowing around Gojo’s cock, overspilling around the edges and coating his abdomen as his thrusts never stop. Both of the men moaning as they watched you, you looked absolutely stunning like this, completely falling apart beneath them.

Your loud moans vibrating down Geto ‘s shaft, and he cant stop himself. He cums down your throat, his hips pushing as deep as they can into your mouth as thick ropes of cum trickle onto your tongue, you swallow it down greedily without a second thought, still sucking when he’s done. His harsh breathing and cut off moans letting you know he’s finished

“Fuck-“ he curses with a groan as he pulls out from your mouth. Watching you gasp for air now.

Gojo still hadn’t stopped, his hips punishing you even after your second orgasm. Your arms couldnt take it anymore, buckling underneath you leaving your face planted into the mattress as you scream out. The overstimulation so good it almost hurt.

“Easy Gojo, be gentle.” Geto pants out, watching his best friend basically fuck the life out of you. Satoru had gone silent now, purely focused on chasing his release that was ever nearing.

“A-almost done baby.” He gasps out as you squeeze him “hafta cum in this sweet pussy”

And cum he did.

His hips stuttering as he fucks his cum deep inside you. Hot spurts of white coating you walls as he fucks himself deeper and deeper. Releasing with a broken groan. His legs almost shaking just like yours

Pulling out and staring in awe as his cum drips out of you, trailing down your puffy folds in elegant drops.

You didn’t end up needing to sleep on the couch that evening, the bed fit all three of you perfectly fine, especially when you were wrapped up in their arms for the whole night. You werent sure what this meant for you from now on, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care after tonight

Principal Yaga’s office was dimly lit as usual, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows on the piles of documents and mission reports. You stood before his desk, flanked by Satoru and Suguru. The air in the room felt heavier than usual, though you suspected it had less to do with the mission and more to do with the recent... developments between you and the boys. You were here to go over the end of mission report

Yaga leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together as he looked over the three of you. “Well, I’ve got to say, you handled that mission well. Minimal collateral damage, objectives met, and no major injuries.” His tone was gruff but approving.

“Of course we did,” Satoru said, his signature grin plastered on his face. “You’re looking at the dream team here.”

Suguru chuckled beside you, his voice smooth as always. “It helps when you’ve got the strongest second-year on your side.” He shot you a look, the corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You fought to keep your face neutral, your fingers tightening slightly at your sides. The tension was suffocating.

Yaga narrowed his eyes, clearly picking up on the strange energy in the room. “Something’s different,” he muttered, his gaze flicking between the three of you. “Usually, you two can’t stop bickering. And now you’re practically glowing with camaraderie. What gives?”

“Oh, you know…” Satoru began, his voice dripping with mischief. He stretched his arms behind his head, his casual posture doing nothing to hide the smug glint in his eyes. “We just… found some things to bond over on the trip.” His eyes flitting over to your with a knowing wink.

Suguru hummed in agreement, crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk. “Yeah, turns out, spending a few nights together can really bring people closer.” His voice was calm, but his smirk was anything but innocent.

Your stomach flipped as Yaga’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion practically radiating off him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing!” Satoru waved a hand dismissively, though the grin splitting his face betrayed him. “We’re just saying, you throw three people in a high-pressure situation, and sometimes… sparks fly.”

Suguru let out a low laugh, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s teamwork, Yaga. Pure, unadulterated teamwork.”

You cleared your throat, desperate to regain some semblance of normalcy. “Right. We just worked really well together, is all. Nothing to… overthink.”

All you could do was think, think about what happened, their hands on you. You could feel your face flushing, clearing your throat as you tried to regain composure

Yaga stared at you for a long moment, his brows furrowed, before letting out a heavy sigh. “Whatever. As long as the job’s done, I don’t care how you got along.” He rubbed his temples as though already regretting his decision. “Dismissed.”

The three of you turned to leave, but not before you caught the shared glance between Satoru and Suguru, their eyes gleaming with unspoken amusement.

As the office door closed behind you, Satoru leaned down, his voice low and teasing in your ear. “See? Told you we’d sell it.”

Suguru smirked, his hand brushing against yours as you walked. “Though I think Yaga might still have questions.”

Your face burned as you quickened your pace, ignoring the way your heart betrayed you with every beat. What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

[bookshelf-dust]

relief

evan buckley x fem!reader

gif by @suledins

PSA IF YOU’RE A MINOR: GET THE FUCK OFF MY PORCH BEFORE I WHOOP YOUR ASS. THIS FIC IS STRICTLY 18+. I RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES, YOU RESPECT MINE.

word count: 6,568

warnings: nsfw 18+ only; swearing, inexperienced!reader, mentions of therapy/insecurities regarding inexperience, conversations about sex, heavy petting, fingering

synopsis: buck is a walking golden retriever. when he asks you out for the first time and begins to learn more about his arson-investigating coworker, it’s easy to say he puts that eagerness to use.

a/n: this is the very first smut fic i have EVER written (aside from some old old dirty nsfw headcanons). that being said, please bear with me, because this stuff is hard!! shoutout to all the wonderful writers who do this all the time because phew! 🤧 i am pretty happy with how this turned out, and i’m proud of myself for writing for a new character and trying something totally different from my norm! i had no plan of direction for this fic when i started it, but i hope the end result will resonate with some of you, and if it doesn’t, i still hope it gives you some good feelings and a little escape from this fuck ass world <33

————

Evan Buckley is a hellishly gorgeous man. Oftentimes, you have to remind yourself that he’s real—that he’s not some sort of mirage, a result of your constant sleep deprived state. He’s the kind of breathtaking that you find to be unfair.

You started working for the 118 as their house arson investigator three months ago. Captain Nash soothed every nerve you had going in, showing you to your quaint little office, introducing you to everyone else in the house. You’d definitely needed the comfort of that transition, but hadn’t expected your colleagues to be so welcoming. 

You were transferred as part of a greater Los Angeles initiative to create stronger communication and collaboration between the first responders and specialized investigators, as so much of their jobs go hand-in-hand. Although you’re pretty sure it’s only because the department heads get sick of answering follow-up questions about causes of fires—if people had insurance, if it was an accident or an attack, etc. 

So they split up you and the rest of your original team into varying firehouses so that there would always be an arson investigator on hand. And if there’s any foul play, then the police can be contacted quicker, as the investigator becomes a direct source to target those issues. You’d complain about all these silly loopholes if it weren’t for the fact that you’d gotten a pretty raise for your trouble. 

In truth, working with the 118 is the most useful you’ve felt in a long time. You know you’re good at your job, and you’d tell anyone who asked that you’ve done the work and you know that to be true. This opportunity has allowed you so much more field work than you could’ve imagined, which excites you. And there is the benefit of the eye-candy your coworker provides. 

Which is why, each time Buck approaches you, you have to blink a few times, press your nails into your palm, do something to ground yourself so that you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. Tonight though, he’s managed to sneak up on you, giving you no time to seem more like a sociable human being. 

“Hey, uh, you ever figure out the cause of that house fire from the other night?”

Buck is propped up against the door to your office, the air immediately responding to his presence, making everything feel lighter. 

You look up from your desk, huff out a breath to try and blow the hair away from your eyes. 

“Oh, hey, Buck. The house that the newlywed couple had just bought?”

Knowing him is enough to tell you that this particular fire would be the one to stick in his memory come week's end, the others being much too mundane for conversation.

Buck nods, a mischievous smirk appearing on his face. 

“Yeah, actually,” you say, encouraged to continue. “Turns out the couple started it without even realizing. They didn’t remember everything at first, but after going over there and questioning them some more, they finally pieced it together.”

Buck steps a little further into your office. You watch as he bends at the waist, hands coming to rest on one of the squishy chairs across from you. 

“How do you start a fire in your own house, and not notice?” he asks, that playful lilt to his voice reaching your ears. 

Your cheeks burn, a flush running through your body and turning you hot, head to toe. You tap your pen against your wrist. This isn’t usually the kind of information you’re excited to share with your coworkers—not that they wouldn’t be entertained by it. It’s that they’ll all be too entertained by it. 

“Well,” you cough, “turns out they were having a rather aggressive intimate moment and one thing led to another…” You trail off, hoping you won’t have to say it out loud. It was bad enough being in the room when they described their evening in detail, talking directly to one another like you really weren’t there.

Buck cocks his head at you, like a cat that’s just spotted a bug. “I don’t follow,” he says. His mouth quirks up the slightest bit at the corners. 

You inhale, mustering up enough courage to blurt it out before this becomes any more awkward than it has to be. 

“They were having sex in the kitchen and her ass bumped up against the stove top, turning on the burner. She’d grabbed onto a dish towel, for support or whatever, and when they moved it upstairs, she tossed the towel behind her and…”

“Neither of them noticed the fire because they were too caught up in the heat of the moment,” Buck finishes for you. 

You nod, sucking your teeth just slightly. “Yep. What’s worse is after spending an hour digging around and talking to them, the wife went ‘You know, now that you say all this, I do remember my bum feeling hotter than usual before we made it to the bed.’” You roll your eyes.

Buck drags his hands down his cheeks, straightening. There’s a smile on his face when he says, “Well, I guess they say love makes you do crazy things.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it,” you say, laughing a little tensely. You chance a bit of eye contact with him, realizing he’d already been staring at you for who knows how long. “Was there anything else you needed? Or just curious about the local arsonists?”

Buck chuckles, turning his face away from you momentarily. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to go out for drinks tonight.” 

You glance at the clock on the upper right hand corner of your computer monitor. It reads 5:43. “Is it a special occasion or something? I feel like no one’s really done that since Chimney had a kid.”

Buck says your name. A knot forms in your throat. “I didn’t mean with everybody. I meant just the two of us.”

You blink. “Why?” You blurt out, the one syllable making you stutter.

His brows knit together. “Uh, so we can get to know each other better? I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious that I like you.”

You’re pretty sure steam might be coming out of your ears. “Um, well, I don’t like to assume. I mean, you’re a pretty flirty guy, you know?”

He says your name again as he plants his hands on your desk. Your pen falls out of your grasp. You’re mesmerized as you watch him pick it up and place it in the cup over to your left.

“This is Buck 3.0, remember? I don’t just flirt with anyone. Besides, flirting usually comes to me, what with being a sight for sore eyes and whatnot.”

You snort: this cute little laugh that comes straight from the back of your throat that Buck has grown to love. 

Buck decides not to rile you up anymore. “So, drinks or no? I definitely won’t cry myself to sleep tonight if you say no.”

You facepalm. “Yeah, alright. Filling my bloodstream with alcohol might be exactly what I need right now.”

————

Two cosmos in, and you’re feeling a lot better. You’re grateful for having kept a pair of jeans and a relatively-okay-for-going-out top in your locker, allowing you to look somewhat presentable enough to be so near Buck for an entire evening.

So far it’s been pleasant, the both of you making small talk, you showing him pictures of your cat and him listening intently to all the antics said cat gets up to during the night. 

You’re chewing on a bacon covered cheese fry when Buck speaks. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you didn’t like to assume? Like, not assuming a guy would be into you?”

You nod, pausing with your hand in front of your mouth while you swallow. “That’s exactly what I meant. This isn’t something that happens often.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” Buck says, taking another swig from his beer. If he’s not careful, he’s going to spill it down his shirtfront. 

Your chest thumps with self-deprecation, the voices from the sides of your head—the ones that create that pressure behind your eyes—telling you this might be a great moment to talk shit about yourself. To air out all your faults to this man you probably don’t even deserve to be sitting across from. God knows he won’t be interested when he really gets to know you. 

You inhale.

You’ve been in therapy long enough to know the power of positive thinking. You know that everyone is on a different, unique timeline—that things happen for everyone at different points in their lives. 

But being inexperienced in all aspects of the romantic world is something you’ve carried shame for practically your entire adult life. Only you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let it consume you anymore. It’s your life, and you have the ability to change the way you think. That doesn’t mean your body doesn’t still react, though, doesn’t still flush with anger at how your life has gone thus far, like your veins don’t thrum as you think of all the vile comments you could say about yourself, the ways you could punish yourself for being the odd one out. 

That’s why being approached by Buck in such a blunt, upfront way was such a shock to your system. That just doesn’t, or rather, it hasn’t ever happened to you. 

And with Buck being who he is, it felt like even more of a fever dream. You almost wanted to spin around and tell them to cut the cameras, the lenses zooming in on your face—mockumentary style. 

“I’m not though,” you say. “Guys don’t usually come up to me and ask me out on a date, or ask me anything really.”

Buck is staring at you intently, and you almost wonder if you went too far by calling this a date. 

“Are you for real?”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t say it like that, but yeah. I guess there’s just something about me that’s not super alluring to most men? That’s why I was so surprised by you.”

He waves his hands around gently. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around that.”

You eat a few more cheese fries. “Why?”

He stutters for a few moments. “Because you’re just so…so perfect?” You snort, an air of sarcasm to it.  “Like, for one, you’re super hot. You’ve got this whole shy but totally badass vibe about you, and you’re passionate and great at what you do. I guess I just can’t fathom there not being a line of guys wanting to jump your bones if you’ll let them.”

You laugh. It makes Buck smile. 

“I appreciate that you think those things about me. For a long time, I thought that was pretty impossible. Guess when you go twenty four years without anyone actively pursuing you, you start to wonder.”

The table falls silent, and you finish your drink, thanking the waiter when he takes your empty glass, returning with a full cup of water for you.

“So, let me get this clear,” Buck says. Normally those words would freak you the fuck out, but you’re feeling a lot less tense now, less scared of talking about your situation. It’s not what you want, but it’s how it is. “No guy has ever asked you out. So you’ve never had a boyfriend? Never had a first kiss? Never had…sex? Or anything adjacent to it?”

“That’s right,” you say. “And the orgasms I’ve given myself don’t count towards the adjacent. So yeah, you’re right. It’s embarrassing, trust me, I know.”

Buck is still reeling from you saying the word orgasm out loud to him right now, not to mention the images flashing through his mind because of it. He pulls himself together. 

“It’s not embarrassing. Are you embarrassed by it?”

You clear your throat. “I’m certainly not happy about it. Honestly, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what it is that I’m missing that makes me so behind everyone else. And I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at myself. But it’s not like I can force those things to happen for me, you know?”

Buck gives you this look, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. A small grin makes an appearance on your face. 

“Well, I mean, you could,” Buck says. “But I can see why you haven’t. In my experience, just hooking up with someone to get off, or just say you’ve done something, kinda makes you feel like shit.”

You wrap your hands around your cool glass, running your fingers up and down through the condensation. 

“Unfortunately, I’m also a hopeless romantic. So I’ve thought about just hooking up with someone so that I’m not a virgin anymore, but that’s not what I want. I want a proper relationship and someone that cares about me and wants to be with me. Seems that’s a lot to ask for though.”

Buck reaches across the table and sets his hand on your wrist. “Hey, no, it’s not a lot to ask for. And it’s not bad to be a hopeless romantic! Honestly, I think there are more people like that than we know, but they do whatever to fit in. I am sorry that you’ve felt like this is something to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how that feels. But I also think it means any relationship you’d have would be more successful because you’ve got your shit together already.”

That makes you laugh, just a little, and Buck is immediately thrilled, fully taking your hand in his. You don’t even have it in you to argue with him. For once, you just listen and try to see yourself through his eyes. 

“Well, I do appreciate you saying all of that, Buck. It’s only that I’ve been patient for so long, and I’m starting to think being wanted isn’t in the cards for me.”

Your gaze has dropped to the glossy table in front of you. You can see the reflections from the overhead televisions, from other patrons walking by, waiters carrying trays of drinks. Buck squeezes your hand in a way that makes you lock eyes with him. 

“So…what is it you think this is then?”

You blink. You have absolutely no response in your brain that would be the appropriate answer for this question.

“You asked me out for drinks.”

His grip on your hand moves up to your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his thumb press into your pulse. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with a man. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of his skin on yours, the feeling of his calloused palms, shockingly cool and free of sweat, much to the contrary of your own. Your heart begins to race when it finally catches up. Maybe it’s better that this is coming on so unexpectedly.

“And…” Buck says. 

You cough even though absolutely nothing is tickling your throat. “You said you wanted to get to know me better.”

If it’s possible, Buck’s smile gets bigger. “Because?”

“You said you liked me?”

“Atta girl!” He teases. A shock of heat shoots straight from your throat down to your low belly. You pray he can’t see it on your face. Luckily, he continues talking. “So, now that we’re clear on me having a thing for you, what would you like to do with that information?”

You take a quick sip of water, mouth suddenly dry. “Well, my immediate thought is that I should run away and hide because in my head, a potential relationship, or whatever, sounds great but right now? Right here with you touching my hand and looking at me? It sounds kind of terrifying.”

Buck starts with the reading again, sliding his thumb further up until it’s nestled in the center of your forearm. It makes you shiver and his eyes flash. 

“Sounds like we’ve gotta get you out of that head of yours and into the present.”

————

With therapy, you’ve gotten exponentially better at learning how to breathe, how to focus on what’s happening right now, so that you don’t spiral out of control just thinking about what might be happening in a few hours, days, weeks. Being more present is something you’ve learned. That is, in your daily life. But when you’re not used to interacting with men, these feelings are so strange, uncomfortable and scary. 

Your imagination can only take you so far, and you’re accustomed to those limitations. Not knowing what a kiss feels like, not knowing the feeling of anyone else’s touch but your own, not being able to properly picture what might happen to your mind and body when in physical contact with someone you want.

It’s both exciting—sitting here, in Buck’s Jeep, as he drives you home, imagining that those feelings might finally be attainable—and nerve wracking, because how does any of this really work?

Reading about relationships, hearing about your best friend’s escapades, watching a love scene on tv—it’s all different than really experiencing it. Truthfully, it feels like there’s a part of your brain focused on dissociating so that your heart doesn’t fall out of your ass or so that you don’t go into hiding before anything can happen.

By the time Buck pulls into your driveway, you’re feeling like hiding might be your safest bet.

He stops the car, turns off the engine. “Let me walk you to your door?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt with shaky hands. 

Buck follows you up the short sidewalk and up to your little front porch. You both pause under your outside lights, listening to the sound of crickets screeching from the shrubs. He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“So, uh, you were kinda quiet on the way here…did I freak you out earlier? Because if I didn’t, I didn’t mean—”

“No!” you blurt. “You didn’t freak me out, you made me hopeful, actually, I think I’m just afraid of all that romantic stuff because I’ve never done it before…”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, of course it’s a little nerve wracking, but wouldn’t it make you happy to experience those things? Like say, a hug, for starters?”

“Are you trying to hug me right now?” You deadpan, though excitement is thrumming through your veins, blocking out any hesitance. 

“Well, actually, I was hoping to kiss you, but warm up to it first, you know?” Buck says, a teasing lilt to his voice, a naughty smirk playing on his lips. You wish there was another word for it, but there’s not. 

You freeze. Your face has got to be on fire. You bring your hands to your cheeks, covering yourself from his view. 

Buck chuckles. Loosely, he circles your wrists. “Hey, don’t hide. What’s wrong?”

You’ve glued your hands to your face. “You’re making me sweat, Buckley.”

If at all possible, this makes him smile bigger, laugh harder, insanely pleased with himself. You hear the rustling of his coat as he leans down, leveling his lips with the shell of your ear. “Is that such a bad thing?” he whispers. 

You pull away quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Not fair!” you joke. “But, I would like a hug…”

At your consent, he’s on you immediately. If you thought he was big just looking at him, having his body pressed to yours, in the most beautiful bear hug embrace you’ve ever experienced, he seems impossibly huge. It makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world. He’s so warm, so solid. His arms are around your back. He’d helped guide yours around his neck, but you’re so dazed that you hadn’t noticed. 

God, he’s so tall. You can feel the soft of his tummy, and you’re afraid that if you stay like this for too long you won’t ever be able to get through another day without craving the contact. His hair is surprisingly smooth where you feel it against your cheek. His form practically swallows you whole. Not to mention how nice he smells. You’ve never been able to understand those lines in your romance novels, talking about spice and man and ginger whatever. But now you do. He smells like vanilla shampoo and woody body wash. 

“This is so nice,” you mumble into the side of his neck, way before you can talk yourself out of it. You can feel Buck’s laugh against your chest. It feels amazing. It’s like an out of body experience. 

He pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, but he doesn’t remove his arms, only shifts so that his hands are gently grasping your waist. You’ve never felt this way before—like all your nerves are being sent into overdrive. You’re alive with the smallest of touches. 

“I genuinely can’t fathom how any man has ever looked at you and not wanted to make you theirs on the spot. I could scoop you up and keep you all to myself right now.”

This time you manage to maintain eye contact with him. You grin, biting the inside of your lip. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really brave right now so if you were serious about that kissing stuff, this might be the time to act.”

Buck tosses his head back, gleeful laughter filling the small space of your front porch. Even so, his hands move up to the sides of your neck, fingers warm against your skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, his thumb caressing your pulse. He feels a kick of cockiness knowing he’s done that to you. 

“I’m sure,” you say. Nod your head one firm time.

“Maybe your cheek first? As a warm up?”

You nod again. You’ve officially steeled yourself. Buck bends to meet you, tilting your head back just slightly so that he can reach you from a better angle. His hand cups the back of your neck as he presses his lips to your cheek. He’s so sure of himself, so passionate about this small thing, that it feels sensual. It puts you in a trance. His lips remain on your cheek for just a minute, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your skin. You have the urge to giggle like a frenzied teen.

“How was that?”

You bite your lip, hating the way you’re buzzing with adrenaline, filling with excitement at all these new sensations. But more so, you feel so special. So seen. You feel fuller than you ever have before at being treated so gently, being cherished and looked at like you’re this precious being. “I really, really liked it,” you tell him.

“Well, I’m glad.” He winks. “I did too.” He relishes in your little giggle. “How about a real one before we call it a night?”

You’re nodding again. “Yes. I would like that very much. I just want you to know that I might be really bad at it and I’m probably gonna embarrass myself and it’s probably going to be the worst, most awful kiss you’ve ever had and—”

Buck’s lips are on yours, successfully shutting you up. You squeak. 

In truth, it does feel pretty awkward for the first few seconds, buck Buck takes it in stride. Doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, just takes what you’re giving him and guides you in a better direction. He tips your head back again, slotting his lips over yours and pressing himself to you. Your brain goes completely quiet. You can’t think or feel anything that isn’t Buck. This feeling spreads throughout your body, easing the ache in your chest, making you feel light on your toes.

Relief.

You admittedly have no idea what you’re doing but try your best to follow his lead, trying to kiss him back with as much passion as you’re feeling inside, tentatively threading your fingers through his hair, setting a hand on his chest. At one point, his tongue runs over your bottom lip and you shiver. Buck’s hand flies to the small of your back, keeping you grounded. You let it happen, curious as to how it might feel. You don’t have words. He licks into your mouth, and you giggle. It makes him smile and he separates from you long enough to enquire what’s got you laughing. 

“I just realized what people mean when a couple looks like they’re eating each other's faces. It’s really nice, actually. Not as gross as people make it out to be.”

Buck snorts. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, already scrambling to get his mouth back on yours. He doesn’t feel like teasing, letting you pull him down, letting you try and lead this one. You’re so gentle—trying to figure out the right way, the way that works for the both of you, to kiss him. He likes that you treat him so carefully.

When you finally end the kiss, you break the silence created by an intense few minutes of eye contact. “Was I bad? You can tell me, I know I was a little clumsy at the least.”

“Nah, not bad,” Buck says. “You’re a quick learner. I enjoyed it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

“Me too. Practice makes perfect, right?”

————

For the past few weeks, things with Buck have been going well. Since that first night out, he’s prioritized getting to know you better, spending time with you that doesn’t revolve around a nasty fire and the plethora of causes it may or may not have had. Time that doesn’t allow for any of your coworkers to pick and tease. 

Buck is starting to feel like one of your best friends. That was cemented the night he watched you play Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, enraptured by how quickly you were solving the puzzles and taking down those grimy basement monsters that, frankly, scared the shit out of him. You only told him that you’d played at least four times at the end of the evening. But hey, all your romance novels have told you that the best relationships are based on solid friendships. 

You’ve had the opportunity to kiss him more, some of it sweet and exploratory, you being courageous enough to ask Buck how he likes to be kissed, if he likes it when you tug his hair, if there’s anything you can change or do differently. He’ll only answer those questions if you do first, telling him what’s working and what you want more of. As useful as all of this communication is, it was tremendously embarrassing to share your intimate thoughts with him at first. 

Some of the kissing has gotten a bit heavier. The first time you sat in his lap ran through your mind constantly for days after, appearing in your dreams, day and night. You couldn’t get over the way he felt beneath you—solid, warm, so real. How he sounded when he kissed you, how his hands felt on your hips and the curve of your ass. How it had felt when he’d encouraged you to grind against him for the first time. You hadn’t meant to moan, but it was like relief had shot through you. Like your imagination was finally getting to take a break because now you were actually doing the things you imagined. You felt so alive, so powerful, feeling him get hard between your legs, hearing the strain in his voice as he encouraged you to keep moving until you finished. 

Tonight is the first night of your long weekend. Neither of you have shifts for the next few days, and you took it upon yourself to ask if he’d like to stay over, maybe get takeout and watch a movie or something. It hadn’t been meant as a request with the hope that it would turn into something more. Frankly, you’ve been feeling more shy since that moment you shared a few weeks ago. 

You hadn’t expected to watch a movie in your bed instead of on the couch, hadn’t expected to pause it halfway through because Buck’s stare was practically burning a hole through the side of your head and you had to figure out what was up. 

“You’re staring, Buck. Is something wrong?”

He’d laughed. It was unlike a laugh you’d heard from him before. It felt sensual. It felt laced with want. 

“Nah, nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Your eyebrows had bunched together. “But…I’m right here. Shouldn’t that help?” That laugh again. 

“That’s not what I mean, sweetheart. I mean that I can’t stop thinking about fucking you with my fingers.”

And that’s how you’d ended up on your back, head pressed to your pillows, with Buck hovering over you. He’s kissing you, dragging his tongue over the sides of your neck and kissing a trail back right back up. His hand is resting on your collarbone, fingers tilting you up to him.

“How’s this feel?” he asks, voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“G-good,” you manage. “Really good.”

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees and setting his hands on your thighs. “Yeah? You’ve been squirming an awful lot.”

The heat radiating off of you, the way you cover your mouth with the back of your hand is enough of a response. Buck doesn’t say anything more, the both of you sitting in silence for a few minutes. He knows you want to say something. But he won’t force it out of you. He’ll wait until you use your words. 

“Buck?” Your voice is a whisper. He hums. You clear your throat, and he bites his lip to hide the pride racing through him at knowing he’s got you all flustered. “What you said before, about touching me? I want you to do it.”

“Yeah?” His smile is so gorgeous, so cocky, and if you weren’t so dazed with lust you might reach out and smack him. 

“Yeah,” you say. You give him your best, pleading eyes. That’s the first time you’ve ever looked at him that way, and Buck knows that he’s gonna give in any time you do from here on out. He leans back down, kissing you again. You take one of his hands and bring it between your legs, encouraging him to cup you. “You’ve been kissin’ me like that for so long…already feel pretty wound up.”

He nudges your nose with his, a smirk playing on his lips. He sets his palm down against you, over your shorts. The heel digs into your clit and he starts rubbing you, slow, but firm enough that you gasp. Your hips buck.

“Honestly,” he says, “I’d thought about teasing you, but I feel like you deserve this, after all that patient waiting you’ve done. Is that what you want?”

His middle finger presses over your hole. You’re so warm. He can feel how damp you’ve gotten, that you’ve started to soak through your panties. 

“Please,” you breathe. “Want you to touch me, so bad, Buck.” You brace your hands on his shoulders, feeling like all this pent up sexual energy is just begging to come out. You feel feral. 

“Okay, baby, okay. Let me get your shorts off, alright?” He taps your hip and you lift up, letting him slide them down your legs.

“Oh, um,” he pauses, a concerned look on his face. “I just wanted to tell you, I-I haven’t shaved or anything. I mean, I trimmed like a week ago, but, if that bothers you, I-” 

“Hey, no big deal,” Buck says. “Doesn’t matter to me. Not ever gonna stop me from making my girl feel good.”

My girl. 

That alone felt like an orgasm.

He pulls your panties down, and you feel heat rising to your face when he marvels at how they stick to you. But the second Buck lays eyes on your perfect little pussy, he’s the one feeling dazed. 

“How no one has ever touched you like this…” He licks a stripe up your inner thigh. “How no one has ever told you how much they fucking want you, never fallen on their knees for you…” He spreads your legs farther, shamelessly trying to memorize every detail of you. “Is beyond me.” 

Buck sets his middle and ring finger on the hood of your clit, starting to rub you in slow, agonizing circles. 

“Because I feel like I could devour you right now.” 

Your feet slide up the bedsheets, legs bending at the knee and allowing Buck to get more comfortable as he settles between them. Buck sets his chin on top of your knee. He’s watching his own hand and how it moves over you. His left hand is pushing up your t-shirt just a little so that he’s massaging the fat of your hip. For a moment he pictures holding onto said hips while he fucks you for the first time, imagines what sounds you might make, and he has to keep himself from letting out a moan.

Buck slides his fingers down to circle your hole, reveling in how soft your skin is, how warm and messy and perfect. He gathers some of your arousal on the tips of his fingers, dragging it up through your lips and over your clit. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, looking up at him. “Feels good. When you do t-that—jesus—the up and down? It’s so nice, but the circles, that’s what will get me to—” 

“That’s what’ll get you to come all over my fingers?” 

You moan. It’s high pitched and whiny, a sound you didn’t know you could make. You force the words out of your throat. “Yes.”

“You wanna take a finger now?” Buck kisses your knee. You’re pretty sure he’s sucked a hickey into the skin above it while you’ve been otherwise distracted. 

“Please, please, Buck, I need to know how it feels—fuck!”

Buck’s fingers are bigger than yours. Much bigger. The sight of him hovering above you, his eyes almost black, burning with desire for you, really does you in. He starts slow: a few soft thrusts of his finger rubbing your walls, exploring the inside of you. 

Then he curls his finger upwards. Your eyes roll back in your head and at the same time your body gives away how fucking turned on you are, how desperate you are for him—and it’s loud. 

You’re so wet that your pussy squelches. Something about that sound flips a switch in Buck, and you’re crying out as he adds a second finger, curling them both, clearly enjoying the filthy sounds you’re making. 

Buck pushes your knee down and away, settling completely beside you, propped up so he can see your face properly while he’s fingering you within an inch of your life. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he’s going to make you come soon. He’s making it a mission. He wants your orgasm as much as you do. He needs it.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. ‘M so glad you let me help out this time. I bet you’ve spent so many nights spread out on this bed, fucking yourself, doing all the work alone.”

Buck’s fingers are making you brainless. You feel blissful, so serene, so calm, so fucking good. He keeps curling his fingers, scissoring them every once in a while. You want to tell him that you can’t usually come just from this, that you need external stimulation. You grab onto his bicep. 

“Yeah, yeah, Buck—I have. You’re takin’ such good care of me.” He slows down his ministrations, letting you take a breather. Letting you gather your thoughts before he pushes you over the edge. You cup his cheek, pull him down for a kiss. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes. 

“Need you to play with my clit, B-Buckley. W-won’t come without it. I wanna come.”

You look down, suddenly entranced by the way Buck’s fingers are moving inside you. He follows your gaze, chuckling to himself. “You like to watch, pretty girl? Guess next time I’ll have to get you a mirror.”

Buck pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you whine. You shiver. You feel so empty. But all is forgotten when he puts the very same fingers that were just inside of you into his mouth. He maintains eye contact with you while he sucks them clean. You moan, despite the fact that he’s not touching you. It’s just so fucking sexy.

His hand returns to your drenched skin, fingers pressing firmly against your clit. 

“Where’s that spot, huh?” he asks. “Show me where it feels the best.” You guide him, a little to your left, that spot on the hood of your clit, not directly on it where the stimulation will be too much, but the spot that has you arching your back, quite possibly more revved up than you ever have been before. 

Buck is quick to begin soothing those precise little circles again, a look of determination on his face. For a moment, neither of you say anything. There’s only the sound of your breathing, the wet, filthy sound of him rubbing at your clit.

That telltale heat spreads its way through your low belly, through the tops of your thighs, through your pelvis, up your spine. It’s right there, you think. 

“Fuck, I’m—” The words are barely out of your mouth by the time your orgasm washes over you, making the room go fuzzy, shrouding you in pure, thoughtless bliss. He fucks you through it, rubbing you until you’re twitching, successfully overstimulated. 

You lay there, covered in a sheen of sweat, attempting to restore your breathing to a normal rhythm when he comes back with a damp cloth. You’d been able to tell him where they were, tell him you could clean yourself up, but he insisted. He wipes you off, gets you clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your surroundings, taking in your own feelings about what you’ve just done. You feel so nice. So special. Confident in yourself and your body. 

You feel happy. Having this little piece of you cared for so well doesn’t make you whole. You didn’t need the experience to feel complete, or like it made you normal. But you do feel powerful. This was just the icing on top of the cake. Something of a treat. You wish you could think of another way to put it, but you feel like a badass woman. 

Buck’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He bumps your shoulder. 

“I was gonna ask if you enjoyed yourself, but…I mean, I did kind of see that you did.”

You laugh, taking his hand in both of yours. “I did, Buck. I’m glad I got to do that with you. It was perfect for me.”

He shoots you a wink. “Good. And I did wanna preface that I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to do all the other stuff.” He watches the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile. 

“I look forward to doing all that other stuff with you. But for now…wanna have a sleepover?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[planet-hwa]

୨୧  blue – 홍중    ↳  hit me hard and soft ; billie eilish

  ୨୧  summary     i don't blame you, but i can't change you

pairing     hongjoong x reader genre     established relationship, cutesy angst and fluff at the end [i promise] word count     1.2k

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

warnings     pet names, jealousy, accused of cheating, argument, crying, venting

   ↳   navigation  ◦  full masterlist  ◦  hongjoong masterlist  ◦  requests

“Hongjoong, baby, please!” You chased after your boyfriend, desperately trying to explain the situation.

The house music of the party faded as you moved further and further down the dimly lit street, feet sore from the heels you were wearing as you followed Hongjoong, his pace much sturdier than yours. You had been sitting on the couch chatting with a friend, a man, who you hadn’t seen since your childhood. Yes, he was quite cuddling towards you, sitting closer than intended, but he’d always been an affectionate person. Not to mention his boyfriend was stood next to him, talking to some of their own friends. 

But Hongjoong ignored it, jealousy and possessiveness instantly overtaking his emotions the moment he saw the man’s hand graze your knee for more than a few seconds before moving it. A simple touch that wouldn’t make you question any flirtation intent, but to him? — a boundary overstepped.

“It’s not what it looked like, I swear!” You shouted, stopping under one of the street lights, feet too tired to continue. Hongjoong missed the sounds of your footsteps and stopped as well, turning to face you. The dark of the dull, almost out, streetlamp he stood under casted a shadow over his face, but you could still see every emotion he held.

“Not what it looked like?” He repeated, moving towards you before standing face to face, the anger he held making it feel as if he towered over you. “Y/N, you were sitting so close to each other you were practically on top of him!”

“That’s an over exaggeration and you know it.” You scoffed lightly, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

You knew how jealous he could get, noticing the death glares he would send to any man who flicked their eyes in your direction, or the tightening of his grip around your waist. However, you had never seen him this upset before, jaw clenched and eyes piercing daggers into you. 

The thought of cheating has never crossed your mind throughout your entire relationship — and never will. You were so deeply in love with him that no other man had registered into your brain since the moment you met, always and forever wanting to be with just him.

“Wooyoung is just a friend, I promise.” You pleaded, reaching for his hands to hold and leaving with silent cries as he avoided the touch.

He wanted to fight, to argue until the night was over, but he couldn’t. His emotions were too much for him to handle, knowing that if he did let them all out: it would most likely end in the two of you never seeing each other again.

“I’m going home,” He mumbled under his breath, turning and walking back down the street in a haste. 

“He has a boyfriend!” You shouted, tears now heavily flowing down your cheeks. Hongjoong paused for a second, thinking in place before continuing his lonely walk home.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The night had grown quiet quickly, a dark and gloomy atmosphere surrounding you as you entered your shared apartment silently. No lights were on, the only source of bright being the moon shining through the windows, highlighting the shoes of your boyfriend next to the front door. Letting go on your heels and lightly dropping them to the floor, you shuffled your way to the bedroom, your mind and body exhausted from the emotions of tonight.

The door squeaked open slowly, the first thing that caught your eye was the outline of Hongjoong’s figure in the bed — lay furthest and faced away from your side. It pricked at your heart the moment you saw the distance, eyes already starting to sting with tears. Changing into your pajamas before climbing under the covers of the bed, you curled up into yourself, the absence of touch affecting you more than expected. You quietly cried into the pillow, wet tears staining the fabric and muffled sobs becoming the melody of the room.

The pain that carried through your body, physically and emotionally, was unbearable. You usually appreciate the possessiveness that Hongjoong showed, it always seeming innocent enough, but tonight was different. Tonight, you knew that it wasn’t some random guy checking you out or obviously flirting with you whilst Hongjoong wasn’t in visible sight — it was all affectionate friendship. But it triggered him to an extent you hadn’t seen, a sense of fear shooting through you at the earlier coldness in his eyes.

Too distracted by your thinking, you were unaware of the shuffling beside you, the feeling of arms wrapping tightly around your waist becoming a surprise.

“I’m sorry, Y/N baby…” Hongjoong buried his face in your neck, the wetness of his cheeks evident against your skin. Securing his grip on your waist, he began placing gentle kisses along your shoulder. “I know I get jealous too easily but I-”

His words caught in his throat, a soft sob cutting him off. You twisted your body to face him, his face almost barely visible in the moonlight, but enough to see his puffy tear-stained cheeks and red nose. Your hand cupped his face, thumb rubbing soothingly over his cheeks as he melted into your touch. He pulled you closer as you softly connected your lips to his, the salty taste of each other’s tears mixing in between. Lips moving together delicately, they fit like a puzzle piece, more proof that you were meant for each other. Pulling away, his hand made its way to hold yours on his face, fingers intertwining. His glassy eyes stared into yours, conveying every emotion he’d ever felt towards you as if you were having a telepathic conversation.

“I love you so much, and I’m always so worried about losing you. I don’t like to get jealous but I can’t control it, no matter how hard I try. And I never want to but I feel like I always end up hurting you.” He confessed, his voice cracking slightly at the intensity of his feelings. He was never one to open up to people, always preferring to suffer in silence, but you made him comfortable enough and always listened to everything he’d have to say.

You wiped the stray tears that fell from his cheeks before shuffling closer into his chest. His body morphed around yours protectively, one hand around your waist whilst the other entangled itself in your hair and stroked it softly, dipping your head deeper under his chin.

“I know you mean well, and I don’t blame you.” You whispered into his chest, the quiet sound of his heart beating singing through your ears. “But I can’t change you.”

“I will always encourage you to talk to me about your emotions, but I can’t be responsible for the jealousy you hold, you have to change that on your own. Just promise me, you’ll talk before you yell?” He hummed in response, agreeing with you completely and silently promising to you. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, your bodies tangled underneath the sheets and soft breaths filtering the air. Any slight movement from you, Hongjoong’s arms would tighten around you and not let you escape. The warmth of his chest against your cheek got rid of the chill from earlier in the night, love covering the previous emotions of angst. Your eyes grew droopy, exhaustion from crying beginning to take over your body. You shuffled the closest you could get to him, the two of you practically becoming one.

“I never want to lose you.” Hongjoong whispered in your ear as he noticed your body relaxing to sleep, retorted with your instant reassurance .

“You won’t.”

tomorrow the diner ; yunho [delayed]

[boyfriendchrisenthusiast]

how shy!matt and ladybug!reader met ꨄ

wc: 2225 words

warnings: none!

a/n: this is kinda long so I apologize.

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

Matt loved living alone. Being able to come and go without telling anyone where he was going, spending the whole day in his boxers, and sometimes not speaking at all the entire day. But after a while, he started to feel lonely. He knew he didn't want a roommate. Especially after living with his two brothers for 3 years prior to moving into his new home. He wanted to be able to be alone, but not feel lonely. which led him to the conclusion that he would adopt an animal.

Matt sits up in bed and reaches over to his nightstand, grabbing his computer. He flips it open and immediately opens a new tab. ‘Animal shelters near me’ he types into his browser. The first one that pops up is called “Purrs and Paws Rescue”. He clicks the website linked to the location page and is quickly brought to another page with dozens of pictures of animals. Cats, dogs, and even reptiles. He scrolls on the site for what feels like hours, smiling at all the pictures and clicking on them to read more about their personalities. He knew he needed an animal that was low maintenance but still provided him company and comfort. Which is why he ultimately decides to get a cat.

The next day, he climbs out of bed early. He was so excited to finally have a pet that was just his. He takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth and gets dressed all in only an hour. He does his final touch ups before he leaves, messing with his hair in the mirror. He walks out of his bathroom and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter on his way out the door.

It was a pretty typical day at work for you. Today, It was your job to help potential adopters meet their perfect match. Walking them through the facility and showing them animals that you think would make a good fit fir them and finally, giving these sweet babies the second chance they deserved. This was one of the parts of your job that you loved so dearly.

You sit behind the front desk with your coworkers, patiently waiting for customers to come in. It gets boring waiting around for people, but you pass time mindlessly scrolling on your phone until there is something better to do. suddenly the door chimes ring, you sit up straight to appear more approachable to the incoming client. In walks a cute brunette boy, a smile resting on his face as he waits at the desk. “Welcome in! What can I help you with today?” I ask flashing him a quick smile.

“I was looking to adopt?” He stuttered, immediately moving his eyes to the ground. A small blush creeps across his cheeks as he turns his head away.

“Yay!! What kind of animal were you looking to adopt today?” You respond with enthusiasm.

“Um I was looking at maybe a cat… you know something low maintenance.” He says looking into your eyes, trying to read your expression.

“Perfect! If you'd like to follow me I'll walk you through our facility and we can discuss what you're looking for exactly.” I stand up, motioning him to follow after me. He turns to follow behind me silently. “Before we start what's your name?” I ask him tucking my hair behind my ear.

“My name's Matt, you?”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name” he mutters, almost barely audibly. He doesn't know what confidence washed over him, but it felt right.

“Oh thank you.” Your cheeks heat up, a pink blush washes over your face. Quickly you try to divert the subject off of yourself. “So, you're looking for a low maintenance cat? Do you have kids,roommates, a partner?” You technically didn't need to know if he had a girlfriend, but it didn't hurt to ask. Plus, you couldn't help yourself. He was exactly your type.

“No, no, and no. I live by myself. Just looking for something to keep me company. I've always loved animals so I thought it would make the most sense.” he explains while walking next to you now.

“We have a lot of options for you then! I can introduce you to some of my favorites and we can go from there.” I smile at him, noticing the way his eyes dart away. Almost hiding embarrassment or shyness. You turn the corner together into a smaller room, the walls lined with cat cages. Each cat having a name tag with their likes and dislikes on it. He was in awe seeing all of them here, even recognizing a few from the website he looked at. They had everything. Persians,Tabbys, Tuxedos, you name it. There was one in particular though, that caught Matt's eye. A shy calico cat, sitting in the back of the cage who is clearly uninterested in his presence.

You notice him stop at the cage, smiling softly at the small animal. “Oh that's Bea. Someone picked her up off the street a couple weeks ago and dropped her off here. She's only a year old, so she's still a baby. She's not super social, but she's a doll.” You explain looking between him and the cat. You found it cute how he'd chose the one that most people just ignore. “If you'd like, we can take her to the meeting room! See how your initial chemistry is.” you smile back at him, hoping he'd take you up on the offer.

“Yeah, I'd actually love that.” He thanks you, making eye contact for a little longer than anticipated. His shyness peaks through, as he nervously runs his hand through his hair, turning his head away. You open the door of the cage, putting your hand out gently for Bea to sniff, letting her know you weren't there to hurt her. She had always liked you, so she quickly rubs her head into your hand allowing you access to pet her. You suddenly scoop her up into your arms as she lets out a meow in annoyance.

“Ok if you wanna follow me” I motion towards me walking towards the door to the meeting room. “I think you're going to love her, it might take a little for her to warm up but she might be exactly what you're looking for.”

“Her colors are so pretty” He says admiring the cat, who's head is turned looking at him.

“Aren't they?”

You stop at the door, slowly opening it and bending down letting the cat free from your grasp. The room is decorated with pastel paw print painted on the walls, and various toys scattered across the floor. Matt follows behind you as you close and lock the door to the room. Bea immediately starts investigating the room, sniffing around all the toys and the small carpet in the middle of the floor. You open the door to the closet in the corner of the room, taking out two cushions for you and matt to sit on. You toss them on the carpet, sitting down on one and looking at matt to sit down next to you.

“Bea, come here baby” You coo at her trying to lure her over to where you and matt are sitting. You make clicks with your mouth trying to grab her attention. She trots over to you, rubbing against your side. Matt puts his hand out for her to sniff, as she determines whether she would trust him or not. “It's ok sweetie he won't hurt you” you talk to her, as if she could understand you. Suddenly she slowly walks towards him, testing the waters before allowing him to pet her.

“Hi there… you're so cute…” he speaks softly at her, scratching the top of her head. Your heart melts at the sight. It was rare to see a man, especially his age, be so gentle towards a cat. Most guys your age don't like cats. They say they're mean or not playful enough. While Matt is loving every second of this, getting lost in the act of loving on this sweet little baby. The room is filled with silence besides the occasional sound of meows and purs.

“So, Matt what do you do for work?” You ask wanting to know more about him. Becoming increasingly infatuated by his nature.

“Oh uh I work at a record store.”

“Really? I love music. I go to concerts like every 3-5 business days” You giggle softly.

He chuckles at your words, while internally admiring the sound of your laugh. “What kind of music you into?” He questions, wondering if your music taste is similar to his.

“Well honestly, I listen to a little bit of everything. I think my main genres are pop, r&b, and indie.” He smiles at this, realizing you did like some of the same genres. He looks down at the cat, still giving her attention as she purs in comfort.

“Maybe you should stop by sometime, we have all kinds of cool records. You know, only if you want..” He says nervously, hoping you'd take him up on the offer.

“Oh absolutely, I'd love to.” You smile back at him. The room falls quiet for a moment after, while matt struggles to find words to say. “You know, I think she really likes you. I've never seen her like this with anyone. Seems like she's met her match.” You point out, hoping he'd love her as much as you do.

“I really like her, when would I be able to take her home?” He asks looking back up at you.

“You can take her home today! I'll just have you fill out some paperwork and as long as you're able to pay then she's all yours.” you say standing up. “Do you feel comfortable holding her for a minute while I grab a travel carrier?”

“Yeah yeah sure.” He gently and hesitantly approachs her, attempting to not scare her. He wraps his arms around the small cat, carefully trying to keep her calm. He holds her in his arms, petting the top of her head gently. He watches as you leave the room momentarily. “You're going home today…” he whispers to the small animal in his arms. You walk back in the room quickly with a cat carrier.

“Ok here we are. If you just wanna put her in here. She might fight you a little bit but don't worry she's not a bitter or anything.” you laugh as he struggles a little bit getting her in the crate. She lets out loud, unamused meows from inside, clawing at the bars of the carrier.

“it's ok, you'll be out soon.” He whispers gently to her, trying to calm her down. “uhm- y/n I was just wondering. Do you want my number? Just to you know, check in on her maybe. Or if you still wanted to check out my store-” he stutters on his words, getting nervous you might reject him or shoot him down.

“Oh- yes please.” You interrupt his stuttering, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. “Here, you can type your number in.” You hold out your unlocked phone for him, anticipating him finally punching his numbers in. Quickly, he wipes his somewhat sweaty palm on his jeans hoping you didn't notice. He grabs the phone from you and swiftly types his number in and shoots himself a quick message, making sure it goes through.

You walk back up to the front of the building, Matt following closely behind you, now holding the cat carrier. When you reach the lobby, you walk behind the desk as he goes in front of it, ready to check out. You reach under the desk into a storage cabinet, grabbing out papers to fill out. “Ok so you'll just have to fill out your information on these papers, so if you'd like to take a seat and bring these back up when you've finished that would be great.” You explain handing over the papers attached to a clipboard, and a pen. He takes a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby, setting the carrier on the small coffee table next to him. Every few minutes he looks back over to you, catching you staring at him momentarily before you dart your eyes away. You put your head down blushing.

Matt finishes his paperwork, bringing it back up to where you're sat and lays it on the desk. You look over the papers, making sure all the information was there. “Perfect, and you're paying with card I assume?” You ask while he starts pulling out his wallet.

“Uh yeah card” He hesitates before taking out the card.

“Your total is $100” You confirm spinning the cars reader towards him. You watch as he swipes his card and puts it back in his wallet. “Well, looks like you're all set. Keep me updated on Bea yeah, I'm gonna miss having her here!” You add, almost a hint of sadness in your voice.

“Don't worry, I will. Thanks for all your help today. I'll see you around then, yeah?” He suggests, nervously twiddling his fingers.

“Yeah, uh- I'll see you.” You say, giving him one last smile before he turns around, cat in hand, and walks out the front door.

a/n: soo im finally putting out my first fic. I introduced this au a WHILE ago but I was really nervous to actually put anything out. I've been very nervous about being perceived or just opinions from peers in general. Also, I'm sorry there's not much actual fluff in here I'm trying to make this sound realistic and well thought out😭 Likes, reblogs, and positive feedback will be greatly appreciated. I love you all and I really hope I can do this au justice because I love them sm.

[akashirl]

1. (most prominent quirk [it was hard picking just one]) his eyes mirror his emotions perfectly. he did not grow up being a very expressive person overall but his eyes speak for him. they soften when he's feeling vulnerable or charmed, and his gaze hardens when he's feeling conflicted. his eyes can tell stories.

as for me, he often mentions my smile. i think he took a special liking to my dimples...

2. the gym / basketball court. it's where we met, it's where we're together most of the time, it holds a special place in our hearts.

3. (⸝⸝๑ _๑⸝⸝⸝) it's still a bit early for that...we're high schoolers...

4. he'd be the vocalist and i'd be a guitarist (frerard who.)...

5. it was so difficult for me to say those words for the first time because of something that happened to me in the past -- and due to how strong the words are. sei says them more often, and it melts my heart everytime.

6. he does! he communicates his care for me on the court, by offering me tips / fixing my posture / engaging in duo plays with me when passing me the ball...he also always makes sure that i'm feeling alright, due to how rocky my mental state is; making sure that i take care of myself, take my medicine on time, all that...

7. i have. saying "interesting" often and caring about grammar when texting are some of the habits i have picked up...

8. i wouldn't have to say anything. he would find me anyway.

9. both! dancing in the kitchen sounds cozy and intimate but honestly i would really like to go to a karaoke bar. sei is an extremely good singer so he wouldn't have a problem with it either.

10. pumpkin bread with nuts and hazelnut milk...

11. in public, we call eachother by our names (i call him "captain" too). in private, we use pet names...

12. well, i know for a fact that sei wants to become a profession athlete but we're still in process of getting there...(his father wants him to inherit the family's business). but our main goal for now is just become public about our relationship...

13. when we were playing against eachother during practice and he pulled an ankle breaker on me and i fell on my ass. that was crazy. but also "wow, i need to marry him."

14. he has disassociative personality disorder and has an alter (the fandom calls him "bokushi". i call him "aka-chan"). i'm with both of them, but sometimes it's difficult to get through aka-chan's hard shell. i know it's all new to him though, and he needs time to reflect on his feelings...

15. he's good at redirecting my focus from the bad thoughts. and no, it's not just because i find him utterly hypnotizing. he reassures me that everything is alright and encourages me to view the situation differently. and of course, suggests that we play a bit of 1v1.

16. the first song that came up was "amor de ganga" which is our main song, strangely. needless to say that it fits us like a glove...

17. let's just say that red is my favorite color.

18. we're somewhere in the middle. we've been close for a long time but my heart still flutters and my cheeks still flush whenever i see him. the sparkle in our eyes isn't dimming at all...

19. a portrait he keeps in his pocket of us when we were younger and everything was alright...

20. probably someone stubborn, whose feet are never really touching the ground, has an "unique fashion sense", hardworking...a little silly, always flustered..."once, we were having a matching during our first year in the basketball team and he scored a three-pointer. but guess what? it was an own goal." he still teases me about it till this day.

Selfship Ask Game

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

What would your f/o(s) say your most endearing quirk is? What would you say their most endearing quirk is?

Do you and your f/o(s) have a special place that you go to be alone together? Does this place hold a specific treasured memory?

Are you and your f/o(s) interested in marriage? If you're already married, who proposed and how?

If you and your f/o(s) were in a band, which band members would you be? (lead singer, drummer, guitarist, etc.)

Who says "I love you" most often?

Does your f/o(s) have a way of saying/showing they love you that is specific to them?

Have you picked up any of your f/o's habits or sayings?

If your f/o(s) had to find you quickly in a large crowd, what would they shout in order to get your attention? What would you shout in order to get their attention?

Would you and your f/o(s) rather spend your evening dancing together in the kitchen or out at a karaoke bar?

What would your f/o(s) order for you at a bakery or café to surprise you with later?

Do you and your f/o(s) use pet names or terms of endearment, or do you only call each other by name?

Do you and your f/o(s) have any dream goals to achieve together?

Was there a specific moment with your f/o(s) where you thought, "Yeah, this is who I want to be with forever"?

If your f/o(s) have an alternate version of themself (such as an evil clone), do you/would you have any romantic interest in that version of them?

If you needed a distraction to get out of your thoughts, how would your f/o(s) humor you?

Pick a random playlist and hit shuffle. The song you get is your selfship's theme song. How well does it fit?

Have you changed any of your preferences or opinions of anything at all because of your f/o(s)?

Would you say you and your f/o(s) are still in your "honeymoon phase", or are you more of an "old married couple", or somewhere in the middle?

If you had to be away from each other for a long period of time, what item would your f/o(s) stare at longingly in the middle of the night while thinking of you? (ex: locket, framed photo, a sentimental gift from you, an article of your clothing or accessory, etc)

How would your f/o(s) describe you to someone who hasn't met you? What memory of you would they readily share in conversation?

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷

[reyesstrand]

If you’re still doing them Maddie, I wish you would write a fic where TK cooks for Carlos for the first time 💖

The weight of a long shift—a week of them, all spilling into each other like dominos—digs into Carlos’ shoulders as he sighs and stretches his neck and thumbs the ridges of his house key before shoving it in the lock.

TK’s been texting him most of the day, just aimless, endearing tangents about a dream he had the night before and the cheesy medical procedurals available to him on streaming, along with a smiley selfie or two, and it’s kept him upright. Upright through the back-to-back domestic disturbances; the multi-vehicle pileups. Carlos didn’t want to bug him with talk of work when his boyfriend’s still on mandatory leave, but he thinks it’s been written on his face, lately, just how tired he is.

“Hey babe.”

Tired enough to not even register TK standing by the dining table, in a pair of dark jeans and t-shirt. His bandage pokes over the edge of his collar, and Carlos focuses on it like he always does; on how much is being held together with stitches and gauze, on how quickly a life—the most important life—could’ve been taken away. Carlos’ eyes drift up to his boyfriend’s face: the slight pinkness to his cheeks, the soft creases around his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos says, stepping in close and accepting the hug TK pulls him into. “I thought we were meeting up tomorrow night.”

TK’s gaze is warm when he pulls back from the hug and instead cups Carlos’ face. “We still are. I just wanted to check in on you tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos insists, reaching up to gently squeeze at TK’s wrists, sparing an extra second to feel the thrum of his pulse under his thumbs.

“Baby, you’re running on fumes.”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek, allowing himself to absorb the pet name TK’s been using more and more; allowing himself to wonder what exactly gave himself away to his boyfriend.

“I thought you could use a night in,” TK continues, lacing their fingers together now so he can tug Carlos further into the house; into the kitchen, which he is just now noticing has been used. “The market didn’t have red snapper,” TK pauses, his eyes flashing with mischief as their gazes lock, “but the guy told me the salmon was super fresh. It needs like, two more minutes in the oven and then we can eat.”

Carlos takes it all in: the mixing bowl full of a salad, complete with roasted nuts and segments of citrus; the smell of garlic and onion; the candlelight filling the room. TK gives him a nervous little smile as he gently moves around him in the small space when the timer goes off, filling their plates with fluffy, herbed rice and filets topped with lemon slices.

“Let me help you,” Carlos says, finally finding his voice after watching his boyfriend in quiet wonder.

“I can handle two plates, babe,” TK teases, jerking his chin toward the dressed table. “Go sit. Let me take care of you for once, Reyes.”

He listens to TK and sits in his usual chair, imagining his boyfriend in his home, humming along to music blasting from his phone as he diced vegetables and prepped dozens of ingredients so it could all come together in time. It’s a sight he hopes to come home to forever. It’s a sight he hopes to witness; to be a part of, next time.

Once they’re across from each other, Carlos’ stomach growls. He’d barely had time for a protein bar in the first half of his shift. He brings a forkful to his mouth and hums happily as flavour bursts over his tongue.

“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Carlos admits, as the side of his fork glides through the fish.

“Well, you’re always so particular about your recipes,” TK jokes, before shrugging his good shoulder. He reaches across the table and squeezes Carlos’ hand. “I want to do this for you more. I want to do this together.”

“I’d love that,” Carlos smiles, thumb stroking over TK’s knuckles. Suddenly not wanting to hold it in anymore, and feeling brave in the golden light of their moment together, Carlos says: “I love you.”

TK beams. There’s something like wonder in his eyes when he replies, “I love you too.”

It feels like a mortal failing to not kiss him in this moment, and so Carlos does; pushing his chair back and leaning over at the waist to cup TK’s jaw in his palm and press their mouths together. Their lips move in an easy slide, and TK tastes of citrus, of something distinctly himself.

It’s kind of like coming home. And Carlos never wants it to fade away.

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[adobe-outdesign]

We think fondly on the existence of Neopets. And we remember everything that has happened in Neopets' history as a website. And we remember it less fondly. And we mourn the death of Adobe Flash Player. And we mourn the death of child-friendly spaces on the internet. And we remember the "Quiggle" and feel warm. (tl;dr: quiggle review if you haven't already?)

Quiggles are our other frog-based Neopet (the first being the Nimmo). However, they're basically opposites—Nimmos are very zen in nature and are long and lanky, while Quiggles are more stocky and considerably more outgoing and happy. While I like the vibes of the Nimmo more, I do think the Quiggle has the better design of the two.

Their bodies are simple, but it's compensated for a bit by two sets of stripes and tree frog-esq fingers and toes. The two eyes placed on top of the head are very frog like, and super cute when combined with their wide mouths—I feel like this makes Quiggles inherently appealing and likable, not to mention unique among other Neopets.

Their base colours are fine, though I don't know if I love the stripes always being red instead of being a complimentary color for each. Ultimately this doesn't matter much though, as most other colours change the stripe color or remove them all together.

I've heard some people say that customization ruined the Quiggle, but honestly, I don't see it. Sure, the loss of their overjoyed personality and more dynamic pose is a shame, but that's just how conversion works. To me, the design is still appealing, and it's pretty accurate to what it looked like pre-conversion—the only changes are the hands being a bit bigger and the hairs on their head being removed. I'm ambivalent towards the hands, but I like the hair removal considering that it's weird for a frog to have hair in the first place.

Favorite Colours:

Candy: A relatively recent release as of the time of writing, the candy Quiggle is based off of the classic Haribo frog gummies. Even if you don't recognize the type of candy, however, the design is still very cute—the body has a suitably gummy-like texture and the simple green color scheme with cream-colored underbelly instead of stripes looks lovely, and the entire thing also serves as a classic frog design that Quiggles were surprisingly lacking before now.

Robot Quiggle: The robot Quiggle is less fun-loving than a standard Quiggle, but I think it works. I absolutely love the lightbulb eyes and toes, and the simple dark green and yellow color palette looks great. I also think that it's neat the body segments line up with the stripes. The uncased version is also pretty neat, sporting a big heart monitor in the middle of the body. I like the cased version more, but both are enjoyable in their own right.

Halloween: I might be in the minority on this one, but I think the gravedigger look of the Halloween Quiggle works great and is very fun. Details like the dirt on the hands and shovel and the glossy eye, complete with eyelids, make for a unique take on the colour and work far better than you'd expect on such a silly pet. It also has a neutral brown base colour, which opens the door for other customization options.

BONUS: No review of Quiggles would be complete without talking about their species-specific Quiguki colour. I always like Quigukis better than Usukis (fight me), so a custom colour is welcome. However, I will say that the UC/styled versions are better for both of these—not only are the poses more energetic, but the hair on the Quiguki girl is enough to make one want to commit crimes.

Between the two, the Quiguki Boy has the better design, but looses points for looking like a Royal pet instead of a fashion doll. It also looses points because, while the Quiguki Girl is based on an actual item (the Beautiful Hair Quiguki Doll), the Quiguki Boy doesn't seem to be based on anything at all. Still, they're both fun regardless.

[moanz111]

✩°⋆｡ system error ⋆｡°✩ - 34

chapter 34 ✧ - i'm sorry - written +texts

< previous ✧ m.list ✧ next >

synopsis ✧ you've always dreamt of having your fantasy-like love story. naturally, hearing the sweet melodic ring of your love alarm was what you wanted the most, right? until it actually happened. four times.

wc ✧ 1.4 k

pairing ✧ uni student! choi san x fem! uni student! reader

warnings/tags ✧ instant attraction (just soulmates stuff), party mentioned, getting drunk (but not to the point of not being able to make decisions), angst, miscommunication (more like not enough communication)(sorry), san's kind of insecure, heartbreak, unhealthy coping mechanism (self-distancing), this is very long so get ready, everyone's confused, use of a pet name (yunjin calls reader baby but she always does so...)(i always forget to tag it sawryy), lmk if i've missed something

Being a senior in university wasn’t as fun as many would think. Too many classes, too many assignments, too many dance routines to memorise and quite literally nothing of much interest happening around you.

At least, that was San’s reality. Wake up, work out, go to classes, practice with Yeonjun and Wooyoung, go home, sleep, repeat.  It wasn’t like it was that bad, but a little fun wouldn’t kill anyone, right?

San kept wondering what was missing, what was that thing that his soul kept yearning for? He had considered taking a gap year or even completely changing his major, but nothing seemed to really hit home the more he thought about it. Start a job? With that schedule it was out of the question. Dating? Well, there were potential prospects around him, but it was too much work and emotional investment.

That was until the day he met you. 

At first, it wasn’t anything evoking excitement in him. As usual, his friends were going to drag him to the freshman welcoming party to “scare” the newcomers, but San didn’t really want to do that or talk to any people or get drunk or dance, but duty called, as Wooyoung had said back then, and had dragged him to Changbin’s front door mercilessly along with their roommates. All San had to do was put on his most charming smile, hang around for an hour or two and then he would make his escape with Yunho so they could play video games in peace. 

Plans change, though, and very drastically even. 

San knew your friends very well - Yunjin and Jongho had the same majors so he saw her often at their plays (whenever Jongho let him come, of course), Beomgyu and Jeongin were his gaming buddies and Kai was their friend so of course, he had hung out with him too, but the only mysterious person in there was you. He thought you looked beautiful with your messy hair and your casual clothes on, with your shy smile and blushing cheeks as you shook his hand while saying your name quietly. 

He couldn’t say he had fallen in love before and he didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but that weird feeling growing inside his heart was definitely something he had to keep an eye on. He had liked people and had dated a few times which all ended in disappointment, but secretly all he wished for was for his love alarm to ring. All these romance movies that kept him up at night, the fated meetings they portrayed - he kept wondering if that was something you could actually experience or was it just a play, orchestrated for poor hopeless romantics like him? Not that he had ever found someone he could share his thoughts with.

The night he met you he was no different - it wasn’t as if he suddenly gained the courage to strike a conversation or even flirt like Wooyoung liked saying he was supposed to when he saw someone he was interested in. So he did what he did best - he admired you from a distance. Occasionally, you would sit together or would exchange a word or two in the middle of all the chaos that was happening around you, with hundreds of students surrounding you, but nothing more until Mingi gathered all of your friends together to play truth or dare in Changbin’s bedroom while the party downstairs was at its peak.

San thought it was the most childish thing in the world but he still sat down opposite of you and joined the game reluctantly. Only because you were there.

He didn’t know why he took so much interest in you or why his heart fluttered when your laugh echoed in the room or when you smiled sweetly at him. There was some sort of a pull as if you two were two opposites of a magnet about to collide and he couldn’t wrap his mind around what all of that meant, especially not after he had taken 5 shots as a penalty for refusing to answer Wooyoung’s invasive questions.

After a while, all of you had got bored and had just splattered around the room, engaging in quiet conversations with each other, enjoying the peacefulness of the night. Gathering his courage, San had approached you after your friends had left your side and he, once again, was surprised with himself. He truly thought you wouldn’t want to stay next to him on the floor in front of Changbin’s bed, but you did. You talked and talked and talked about anything and everything, you joked, you laughed and when you leaned on his shoulder, San thought his heart was going to explode.

It must be the alcohol. But it wasn't. San felt more sober than ever. He felt alive and the night was still young so after taking one more shot each, both of you went downstairs to join the party. 

And just like that, you were standing in front of him, the purple and blue neon lights illuminating your features and all San could do was try not to stare too much. The loud music, engulfing any other sound in the room, was drumming loudly and you swayed your body to the rhythm, laughing and holding San’s hands in an effort to make him let loose and have fun. It was working because he didn’t remember when he had had fun like that with anyone else. At a party. In Changbin’s house.

The more you danced, the more San was letting the butterflies in his stomach erupt. He believed dancing could reveal a lot about the person and he thought you were stunning. But he had already thought that at least a million times before. His drunken brain, however, couldn’t come up with many creative and showstopping compliments at that moment but mentally he made a note to tell you much more the next time he saw you which he hoped was going to be very soon.

Suddenly, a slower song started playing. San couldn’t really remember its name but the next thing he knew was that your hands were around his neck, his on your hips and you were both mere centimeters away from each other. Your soft shining eyes were looking at him with such intensity that he thought he was going to melt there and then. Slowly moving together, San felt as if you two were the only people in the room. 

The world had stopped spinning for a few moments, he could’ve sworn. Only you, your warmth and your shimmering eyes were all that mattered. His grip on you tightened and now you were closer than ever. San could feel your breath on his neck as you buried your head in its crook and your heartbeat (or was it his?) was pulsating between you two, making his cheeks burn. 

As the song came to an end and a new one started, you pulled away from him slightly, making him pout at the loss of contact. “San, I…”

San could swear he was going to pass out right there, in your arms, as your fingers dug into the back of his neck, brushing against his hair. His eyes were on your lips, still shining from the lipgloss you were wearing, and then he moved his gaze to your pleading eyes. You were so close, yet so far as San started leaning down slowly and then

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

San hadn’t heard a sound like that before. It seemed like a normal notification but it also sounded different. Maybe a bit higher? A bit more melodic?

And then you pulled away, leaving him breathing in and out slowly. What if that was the love alarm? Was it yours? Or his? Was he just hearing things?

“I’m sorry, I think Yunjin is calling me. I’ll go over to the kitchen to call her,” you said, raising your voice in an attempt to fight the noise and San nodded. It wasn’t as if he was going to just leave you. Especially not after what was about to happen before your phone had rung. 

He watched you make your way through the crowd and just now San noticed how many people were around you two. Maybe even your friends were somewhere here but he couldn’t recognise anyone, not while his brain was in this dazed state.

Taking out his phone with trembling hands to check for any texts, San furrowed his brows as he saw the top notification.

from 1111

Congratulations! You have found your match!

note ✧ here it is finally - san's pov! i wasn't really sure how to handle this situation and if i did it well; this was probably the hardest chapter to ever write just because i wanted to convey san's feelings and pov the best way possible and actually make it make sense and be valid 😭 he just needs a hug and so does reader :( dealing with feelings of any kind is never easy.

i really hope you liked this chapter (i rewrote it around 5-6 times) and feedback will be greatly appreciated because it's my first time writing something angsty like this 😭 i promise not to make it too painful from now on but a growth in both of them is needed so bear with me :<

taglist ✧ @flamingi @huachengsbestie01 @minihong99 @staytinyluv @luvpeachkes @gh9sty @dawn-iscozy @zaraxnid @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

taglist is open! <3

[cogentsummoner]

The gold dragon blushes so badly he becomes a pink gold dragon. 😳

You were woken from your slumber by a heavy gust of warm air. Were it anyone else, they might have been frightened, or at the very least alarmed, to wake up to the sight of a truly massive dragon looming over them, his blue eyes burning in the shadows of his cavernous lair, and light from the fire pit not far from you glinting off his gleaming white teeth.

As it stood, it was you, and you knew this dragon very well. You recognize the baring of teeth for the bright smile that it is, and the noise that sounded like someone smacking a broom against the floor as the tuft of soft fur at the end of the tail thumping on the ground.

You rubbed your eyes and yawned, sitting up on the sofa. Voice still groggy from sleep, you said, "Welcome home, love."

Toshinori let out a happy huff, his giant head coming down to nuzzle you with his snout, which knocked you flat on your back once more. Try as he might to mind his strength and size in his dragon form, Toshinori was always so... easily excited, especially when it came to you.

"I'm home," he rumbled, smile in his voice. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," you replied, scratching at a particular patch of scales under his chin that you knew would make him melt- and it did. As his big body laid down on the ground near the sofa, he began to purr, the sound filling the cavern. "Sorry I feel asleep- I meant to stay awake until you got home... guess I just dozed off."

Toshinori cleared his throat, then said, "It's okay, I know I was out late. A farmer asked me to help her with tilling her fields- it was easy, with my claws and size. She gave us some fruit and vegetable preserves as thanks!"

Your smile brightened at that. "Toshi, that's wonderful!" You'd sent him into town alone, after countless trips you'd taken together, to see if he could handle it. This first time, he'd gone in his dragon form, because he was most comfortable in that right now. Baby steps, and all that. Hearing that someone had unexpectedly approached him, and he'd managed to get through it, and even, if you were reading him right, have fun with it... "Love, I'm so proud of you."

Toshinori's bright gold scales seemed to glow pink at that- doubly so when you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his snout. He let out an embarrassed whine, moving his head back so he could rest it on the floor and cover his eyes with his paws, suddenly shy.

You laughed at his antics. "Oh no, you're not getting away from me that easily!" you said, climbing over the back of the sofa to kneel beside him, peppering his face with many quick little kisses.

His big body squirmed, but you could hear the tell-tale thump of his tail that meant he was more than pleased with your affection.

"My knight," he whined, his blush only getting worse.

"I think my darling Golden Dragon has turned into a rose gold dragon," you teased, ceasing in your kisses, but still petting his snout. "You're always so cute when you get shy like this."

Toshinori let out a huff, but couldn't hide the wobbly, happy smile on his face.

[hmshermitcraft]

After Limited Life Grian passed on the message that the games were over, The Watchers were bored of them and their suffering, and wanted a new meal.

Now the players were free, but what is freedom when you’ve been living in a cycle of violence for years? What’s freedom when you’ve spent so long murdering those you once called friends, gaining and losing pets, experiencing death over and over again.

Cleo isn’t sure, but she tries to remember what she did before. They used to make statues, beautiful statues and sculptures of a variety of things, sometimes it was a gift for a friend, other times it was something they had been commissioned to make. So she starts that up again, crafting their feelings into art and creations, trying to process the trauma.

When Martyn had rocked up on her door in the middle of the night, months after Grian had set them all free, she’d been in the middle of a statue. They left their basement and opened the door, surprise covering her face as she saw Martyn. He looked worse for wear than she remembered, his phantom wings more torn than usual and his hair a mess, but most noticeably was the emptiness in his eyes.

Martyn took a step forward before collapsing against them, and her arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close to her. He let out a whimper and buried his face into their chest, tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, hey,” Cleo spoke softly to him, wrapping her arms around him tighter. “It’s okay,” she hummed, “what’s wrong?” Martyn said nothing, only crying harder.

Cleo pulled him inside, setting him on the couch next to them, his head on her lap. Martyn was still crying, but after a few minutes he calmed down enough to speak. “I can’t find Ren, anywhere. I thought since we were free he’d be back but I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve gone across the entire country, I’ve spoken to authorise, I’ve even asked Grian to ask the Watchers for help. But they refused, and now I have no hope.”

Martyn sobbed through the words, but Cleo understood, running their hands through his hair. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She hushed him, playing with his hair as they spoke. “Can you walk? I have something to show you.”

To Cleos surprise, Martyn nodded and sat up. She smiled at him, and grabbed his hand before leading him towards the basement. He trailed a little behind, but she kept the pace slow so he could keep up despite the clear stress and anxiety.

Once the two descended the stairs, Cleo’s current work came into view. It was a collection of statues, hearts all lined up in a row. Each heart had a line down the middle, each heart showing a double life pairing. Theirs was the one currently being worked on, and while her side was covered in stitches, Martyn’s had a phantom wing attached to his.

Martyn’s eyes widened at the sight, letting go of Cleo’s hand as he approached the heart statue. “It’s beautiful…” he said in surprise, and Cleo snorted at his tone.

“You don’t need to sound so shocked,” she said with an eyebrow raise.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I thought you hated Double Life.”

“I hated the betrayal,” Cleo corrected him. “I hated the feeling of loneliness, I hated the fact I couldn’t feel like I could trust you. But you made it up to me in Limited Life, and even Pearl and Scott managed to reconnect at the end. When I was first freed, I went to the old school I taught at and I realised it wasn’t the same anymore, that I wasn’t the same anymore. The life games were predictable, we always knew how it would end. There was comfort in it, in a strange way. So when I was trying to figure out how to move on, I first wanted to make a tribute to my favourite season.”

Martyn turned his gaze to her, tears beginning to stream down his face again. “Cleo…” he trailed off, unable to speak.

“We’ll find Ren,” Cleo promised, “wherever he is. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but we’ll find him. We can find everyone, I’m not sure we can heal alone.” They paused for a moment, before smiling. “I’m glad you came to me Martyn.”

Cleo can't offer a magic solution. But then, they both know Martyn didn't expect that of her. There is no magic wand that can be waved, but there is understanding and a burden shared.

There is also rest. Forced on Martyn, of course, because he's a stubborn prick and would keep working if they didn't drag him to bed themself.

Cleo won't go back on their word. They'll find Ren. And they'll find the others. And they'll heal. Just like Martyn, now, sleeping soundly for the first time since the games began.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter I

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 7.267 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Likes, asks, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. This is my first wip in a while, so its a little janky, but I hope you like it! Thank you in advance for reading <3

He’d been gone for almost a year now.

You and your father were never really close. Truthfully, the two of you were never much of anything to each other.

Since you could remember, he’d treated you like some pet his ex had left at his house after a break-up: no warmth, no harshness, just this mild yet persistent annoyance that came from having to be responsible for something he neither wanted nor cared for. He could look down at you, throw a ball for you to catch, or pat your head half-heartedly while he talked to some random stranger that complimented you on the street, but whatever it was that you did right never granted you enough favor to avoid his ever-present disappointment.

That relationship alone was depressing enough as it was, but it would’ve been at least tolerable were it not for his much more obvious and paternal love for your older brother.

You could never really pin-point why it was that your father loved John so much while simultaneously only barely acknowledging your existence. You were both his children, after all. Yes, you were born to different mothers, but John’s mother had abandoned your father just as much as John’s did, and he only ever said good things about her, the same way he only ever said good things about John.

Maybe it was that John looked more like him, or that they thought just like each other, or that they only ever spoke about the same things.

Maybe this weird and cruel dynamic could be boiled down to you just being the odd one out. And though that didn’t make you resent it — resent them — any less, you’d made enough of a peace with it that once he was gone, you actually mourned him.

So why was it that it suddenly felt like he was right there, willingly ignoring you, all over again?

JJ and Kie lounged together on the sand over some old beach towel.The soft wind blowing her curls against his face. She smiles as she looks back at him, tucking that piece of hair behind her ear, and their eyes remain locked for a moment, gazes drifting back and forth between the eyes and the lips in that indecisive little lover’s dance you and him had been caught up in so many times.

You sat alone on the railing at the Chateau, his ‘Chateau’, drinking budweiser, his favorite beer, wearing an old shirt that most definitely had belonged to him at some point, staring out into the river bank where he’d last been seen, and feeling rejected, exactly the same way he always made you feel.

The man was haunting you.

It was excruciating: Sitting there and watching him play the same tricks he’d played on you on someone else, someone you knew he’d had his eye on for a while, like you were some sort of pathetic test subject he took up with the single intention of serving as the canvas on which he practiced his bullshitting skills.

You shouldn’t be surprised that he threw you away as soon as his actual target showed the slightest bit of interest in him, and you weren’t. That’s the worst part: in more ways than one, you knew this would happen. But as if locked in this realm of meta-self-consciousness, the more aware you were of JJ’s general scummyness, the more you convinced yourself you’d never fall for his lines, and the more comfortable you became in rolling over and letting him bullshit you.

You felt John’s approach before you heard him; Those unmistakably careless steps you’d heard just outside of your door all your life suddenly bounding towards you. Ten whole months of his obsessive and undivided attention hadn’t been able to erase the weirdness of him suddenly acknowledging you after seventeen years of pretending you weren’t there, so every time his eyes landed on you, your mind sent up a “something bad is about to happen” signal to the rest of your body.

He smiled awkwardly as you turned around to meet his eye.

– You okay? – The railing creaked as he sat down beside you, a half-drunk beer in his own hand. Your father’s disappearance had taken a lot out of John. At night, he paced. In the morning, he stared at the locked study. In the evening, he bit his nails and scratched his arms. And all throughout, you could see he was thinking of him. Whereas before, your brother had been the poster-child of teenage carelessness, now he could barely hide just how much his sanity had been going down the drain.

It was bad. Bad enough that he’d actually started worrying about losing you, of all people.

It was freaky.

The old John B couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you without cracking jokes at your expense or silently loathing at the burden of your existence. Now he could barely let you out of his sight.

You stayed quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you shrugged, taking another sip of beer before muttering, – Peachy.

John let out a hollow chuckle, shaking his head. – You suck at lying, you know.

–Thanks, – you said dryly, setting the bottle down on the railing beside you. – I’ll make sure to add that to my list of things I suck at.

He didn’t laugh this time. You could feel his gaze on you, weighing heavier with every second you refused to look at him. Finally, you turned to meet his eyes—green, sharp, and so annoyingly sincere they made your chest tighten.

–You’re not okay, – He said softly, his voice breaking the kind of silence that felt like it had been years in the making.

– That bad at hiding it, huh? Have to add that to the list too.

– Why do you wanna hide things from me?

You stopped yourself from scoffing before you could hurt his feelings. But the answer was obvious to anyone with eyes: The two of you didn’t know each other.

No matter how much he tried to make you a part of his friend group or make up for the time you two wasted pretending the other didn’t exist, a couple months of effort couldn’t fix what over a decade had set into stone.

Maybe doing things behind his back wasn’t helping.

But you didn’t do it to hurt him. You didn’t plan for things with JJ to go as far as they did, they just did. And you knew it would hurt him if you told him what you had been doing, because JJ was John’s family more than you had ever been, and he’d see it as a betrayal.

For a moment, you wanted to tell him the truth. The real truth, not the sarcastic, deflective shit you’d been feeding everyone since the day you learned to speak.

But you didn’t. Because you’d had seventeen years of practice in swallowing everything you felt until it became a lump in your throat you’d learned to ignore.

– I don’t. I’m not. And I… I don’t want to. – you said instead, your voice as steady as you could make it. – Life’s just been kicking me hard right now.

He studied you for a moment longer, his brow furrowing slightly, before he nodded. – It's okay. I get it.

– Thanks.

You expected him to leave after that, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed right there, his shoulder brushing yours as you sat in silence.

It was awkward. It's always been with the two of you. But eventually, he spoke again.

– Look, I… um, how can I say this? – He laughed, dragging his fingers through his hair. – I need your help with something.

You chuckled, a little more light-hearted now, and patted his back softly. – Go ahead.

– So, JJ's been acting weird. – You froze. It was over. He knew. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he knew enough that this whole thing between JJ and you had to be completely restructured. Your eyes drifted back to where Kie and the blonde were sitting, trying to keep your panic under wraps. – I was talking to Pope about it, but it's not like he cares enough to know what's going on. And Kie, who is the one that should care, told me I was just acting crazy. But I'm not crazy! He is weird! He's acting very weird!

You wanted to comfort him, and tell him that he wasn’t crazy, that he was right. There was something going on with JJ. But how were you supposed to say that without blowing your cover completely? You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to say the most basic thing you could:

– How so? – Was all you managed, still looking outwards, at JJ and Kie, in an attempt to avoid your brother’s gaze. It turned out to be just as bad a choice as the previous one. Your stomach turned as you saw him whisper something in her ear, earning a giggle from the girl, one that almost grated at your nerves. You took a deep breath, re-claiming the bottle you'd given up on, and taking a swig.

– Like… um, I don’t know. He’s always brushing me off about the most random things. Like, I can ask him a stupid question about surfing, or beer, or I don’t know, whatever! And he acts completely normal, but if I ask him if he slept over he’ll just feed me a bunch of senseless shit that doesn’t even answer the question!

– That’s... really weird.

– Right?! – He looked so relieved as you reassured him. So trusting. Yet here you were, lying to his face, knowing damn well that you were the reason JJ’s moronic ass couldn’t just tell your brother he slept on the couch. – And he keeps making these weird comments.

You were afraid to ask.

– What sort of comments?

– Like, the other day- He stopped himself short, suddenly looking into your eyes and then away again, his whole face suddenly red. – No, no. Um, forget about it. It’s weird.

– Weird? – He hummed and nodded. Eyes still glued to the floor. – Weirder than your ‘That’s so Raven’ phase? C’mon, tell me.

– No, it’s just..

– Just what?

– It’s like… – He gesticulated exaggeratedly with his hands. – graphic. We were... talking about, this site and when Pope made this joke about half siblings he just-

– Okay! –You breathed in, looking away as well. – Okay. So don’t tell me that. Is there anything else?

– Like, look at that! Look at his back. That looks really gnarly, doesn’t it? – You followed his gaze back to the thing you’d just been mulling over, and noticed, for the first time, the thing that had probably been freaking John out all day long: JJ’s back was streaked with nail marks. From beneath the ends of his dirty-blonde hair a couple hickeys poked out. And right there clear as day on his left shoulder, a bite.

You swallowed.

– Damn, I hadn’t seen that. – It wasn’t a lie. You’d never taken pride in the marks you left on people, mostly because after JJ, you often did your best to compartmentalize whatever intimacy you partook in. – Why is that weird, though?

– At first I thought he’d gotten into some catfight or something, that was ashamed to say it, but JJ’s been bitten all over these days, and he makes SUCH a big deal about saying it's nothing. Like, he'll ramble for hours. – He sighed. – I don’t know, but isn’t it weird?

– Yeah, it’s weird.

– Maybe he found some vampire chick to hook up with. – He laughed, though it was clear he didn't find any of it funny. – I don't know, but it's like his head's in the clouds or whatever.

You laughed, speaking before you could stop yourself: – Vampire? – You huffed, taking a swig from your bottle. – I don’t know. Kie doesn’t strike me as the type that only comes out at night. – Your conscience dawned upon you as you put the beer down. Drinking made you reckless, and as soon as you said it, you knew you'd be regretting it for a long time.

– What?! You- You don’t think they’d- No. No. No way.

– Uhm, I… I don’t. I don’t know. It was just like a hunch.

– Did she say something to you?!

She had, as a matter of fact, said something to you two days ago, and it had been burning in your mind even since: You’d been in the kitchen, staring into the empty fridge and trying to think of something you could possibly do with nothing but ketchup and mustard, when someone suddenly kicked the back of your shoe.

Kie had looked back at you with a mischievous smile. “JJ’s been staring at you all day.”

There was something conspiratorial in the way she giggled, poking at your sides like you were both children again, and you couldn’t help but laugh along: “Oh, please. He’d stare at a tree all day if it had tits.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” She looked around again, squeezing your arm. “I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”

You didn’t want to tell her that you and JJ had been sneaking around for a while, paranoid that John or Pope might walk past and hear you, so you just laughed. “How much beer did you drink today?”

“Fine, then, don’t tell me. Just know that I’m watching you!” She said it in sing-song, opened the door, and left you there, grinning alone, sure that it had been a completely harmless interaction.

Only a friend wouldn’t say what she said, not at least, when she was planning to spend the whole day after that flirting with JJ.

Despite your endless tries, you hadn’t had many girl friends growing up. So when he was gone and John was suddenly forcing you to hang out with him and his friends, you’d been glad to spend time with Kie.

She’d always been nice to you, regardless of the fact she was older and a kook, so of course, you’d always been a little star-struck when she treated you like a friend.

You wish you could’ve been charmingly aloof to her giggling and preening, and that, despite your definite lack of kook-ness, you would’ve had the grace and etiquette to brush it off as easily as she brushed off your feelings. But you’d never been the sort of person that can deal gracefully with their own negative emotions. So you sulked, and you drank, and you smoked.

The night fell slower than you had wanted that day, but as soon as your brother’s snoring could be heard through the house, your door creaked open, and in came JJ, with his stupid smile, bounding over to you.

You brushed it off as playful teasing. No one liked to dirty talk better than JJ, and given his talent to make people angry, you wouldn’t be surprised this was some scheme he’d worked out to rile you up. You tangled your hands in his hair, and pulled his head back, kissing him quiet as his fingers sunk into your waist. “What is it, huh?” He thrust into you, once and again, and again, his eyes squeezed shut as his mouth fell open, groaning and moaning against the crook of your neck. “You- ah- You don’t like me talking to Kie? Is that- OH GOD- Is that- is that it?”

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t bother to address it until both of you were half-naked.

JJ had this habit of introducing serious topics of conversation just as you were getting comfortable with him. So he’d been beneath you, calloused hands tearing your shirt off of your body, head thrown back as you kissed his neck, when, between a groan and a plea, he asked “What’s gotten you so angry, huh?”

You slammed your hips against his and laughed bitterly as you felt a shiver tear through him. JJ babbled for a moment, opening his eyes just for you to see them rolling into his head. Your nails scraped against his back in a way that had him arching into you. And though you were enjoying yourself, a part of you wanted to torture him more than anything.

He’d begged you to slow down, breathless and starry-eyed, his own nails digging into the meat of your thighs as he pulled you in, over and over again, despite his contradicting protests.

When you were finally done, JJ was red in the face as he fell back on your bed, and it took him a while to formulate a sentence. “I should make you jealous more often.” Was what he came up with at the end, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage, enough that you could feel it against your skin.

His breath was as warm as his hands, and just as shaky. The patterns he drew against your back shifted from adoring to exhausted, and you remained there, weaving your fingers through his blonde strands.

“What you should do is cash a reality check.” You hummed, and he barked out a laugh at that, curling up into your arms as you shifted to your side.

“Keep lying to yourself, babe. You know you love me.”

From beneath your lashes, you could see the smile on his face as he watched his hands move against you, hypnotized by steady movement his palms made down the curve of your hips.

You were satisfied by the interaction when it happened. It felt so playful, so soft, you didn’t even have the heart to wake him up as you felt his breath grow deeper against you.

JJ would wake you up hours later, just as the sun broke the horizon, whispering something about leaving before John B came to check on you, and you’d only barely registered his words, still stuck in that void between consciousness and sleep, but you remembered smiling as he kissed up your neck and told you he’d see you later.

He was right about that. But you weren’t glad you saw him again.

You woke up, opened the door, and just between stumbling to the bathroom and wondering if there was anything to eat, you saw him, shirtless on the couch, with Kie on top of him. You turned back around as if the sight had blinded you, trying to force the sound of their kissing out of your mind.

All day long, he’d been attached to her hip. They’d spent the morning whispering and giggling on the couch, the evening eating off each other’s plate, and now there they were, cuddled up on your beach towel, watching the sun go down.

John was still looking at you expectantly. – So? Did she say something?

You sighed.

– Why didn’t you say anything?!

– Not explicitly. She did ask me if I liked him very suspiciously, though.

- Because! – Because you had no idea she would bait and switch you like that. The moment sat heavy on your chest, a constant, gnawing reminder that whatever semblance of camaraderie you thought you had with Kie had only been another cruel thing in your ongoing circus of disappointments. And of course you couldn’t share that with John. The last thing you needed was to light another fire beneath his already manic suspicions. So you shrugged and avoided his gaze, taking another sip of beer. – It was weird, but not weird enough that it merited an intervention.

He’s shaking his head as you speak, unconsciously, almost in denial.

He clearly wasn’t buying that there was nothing going on, and the frown on his face deepened, turning into something like disgust. – Kie wouldn’t… She wouldn’t do that. She’s not dumb, right? She knows what JJ is like, doesn’t she?

You soaked in that unintended insult for a second, wishing you had never opened your mouth. – I don’t know. Maybe they’re not. – But they were, though. –You’ve all had a thing for Kie at some point, right? JJ’s probably just going through a phase.

– Yeah, but she’s entertaining it! She never did that before! – You couldn’t argue against him anymore. You knew he was right, and he, unconsciously or not, did too. But the guilt was eroding at you from the inside out. Despite the decade and some you two had spent trying to ignore one another, you knew him well enough to know that what was bothering him was not that his friends could be in a relationship, but what would happen to his friend group when they inevitably broke up. – I can’t believe JJ would do that.

– He might not be doing anything, John! – You tried to give him some comfort at least, janky though were at expressing sympathy. – I mean, it’s JJ we’re talking about, he’ll flirt with any girl that has a pulse.

– What part of “She’s entertaining it” didn’t you get?! – He turned to you like a coiled viper, eyes dark with an anger you couldn’t really comprehend. The moment his voice sharpens it’s like the temperature in the room has dropped. Suddenly, you’re on your feet, struggling to process how this seemingly normal conversation had turned into a fight.

You try to keep your cool, though you feel that guilt pushing into confusion:

– Hey, you don’t need to raise your voice at me. I’m just trying to make you see the nuance here.

– What nuance?! It’s obviously happening! You were the one who brought up the problem and now you’re just gonna brush it off?

– I wasn’t the one that brought it up, and that’s not what I’m doing!

– Yes it is! And you always do! You bring up these random things about other people, stirring shit up, and when I try to talk about it, you’re suddenly above it? You’re such a hypocrite!

– Why are you mad, John? We were just talking about this like grown-ups and suddenly you wanna argue? Let’s just- Let’s calm down for a second, okay? – You both looked down for a moment, interrupted by your ringtone. Barry’s name flashed on your screen for the third time that day. Yet another one of your bad habits catching up to you. – Uh, hey, Bee. I’m kind of in the mi- Hey! Hey! What the fuck are you doing? – John wrestled the phone out of your hand, turning it off before you could do anything. – WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!

– We’re talking here! I don’t know if you realized.

– Fuck you, John! Are fucking kidding me?! Give me back my phone!

– WE’RE TALKING RIGHT NOW!

– I’m not fucking talking to you after this bullshit! Give me back my fucking phone!

He held it out of your reach, looking at you with spite. – I hate Barry. You know I hate him, why the hell do you keep talking to him?!

There wasn’t much else you could do but stare up in disbelief. – Why are you bringing this shit up now?! He’s my friend, you know that! And you don’t own me! I’ll talk to whoever I want!

You hear the steps coming towards the two of you as John scoffs, pushing you off of him. – Barry’s a drug dealer, for God’s sake! When are you gonna realize this guy is bad news?!

– Oh, sure! Because JJ is such a model citizen!

– Don’t bring him into this!

– You were the one that brought him into this! It’s none of your goddamn business who I choose to hang out with, John! I’m your sister, not your fucking pet!

He raises his hands, laughing bitterly. – Pet? Really? That’s fucking rich coming from you! – That stings more than you want to admit it. The way he throws his words at you like knives. The way he says it, it tells you it’s not just the frustration talking. He means it. – Up until a couple months ago you treated us all like lepers, wouldn’t even look us in the eye! But you want me to believe that the crackhead down the street is somehow more worthy of your time than I am?!

Your composure had gone down the drain now, and the guilt went with it. You could have lied. You should have lied. But because you didn't, now you were punished. – You are so fucking full of yourself, John! I swear to God!

– I’M FULL OF MYSELF?! Really?! I am?!

– Yes, you are! You’re so fucking spoilt! You think the world just revolves around you! You can do whatever you want, you fuck up, you commit literal fucking felonies out there with your friends, and I’m the problem because I’m friends with the guy that YOU BUY WEED FROM?!

He laughs. Not to himself, at you. Just the way he used to do before: – You’ve gotta be really fucking stupid to think Barry, of all people, is your friend. It’s fucking pathetic, really!

– Says the guy who hasn’t made a friend since the third grade!

– Whoa! Whoa! Chill out, you two, what the hell is going on?! – JJ comes rushing in, already pulling John away from you like some sort of white knight, but your brother just pushes him out of the way, still tearing into you:

– Barry’s not your friend. You’re too smart not to see that– Or you know, at least I thought you were.

– Guys, c’mon- JJ can barely get a word in:

– You don’t know what you’re talking about! The people I hang out with are none of your business, and you know damn well you have no room to talk!

– What do you even mean by that?!

You laugh sarcastically. – And you think I’m the one who is fucking stupid?

You feel a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you back. Kie stands behind you, her dark eyes full of pity, a concern that is more judging than kind. – Guys, Guys, please. Just stop it. You two are not thinking straight.

– We’re talking here, Kie, stay out of it! – You can see the lack of patience in your brother’s eyes as he speaks. And you take the opportunity to try and grab your phone again, but JJ grabs you before you can get to him. – Get off of me, JJ! None of this shit concerns you! Can you fuck off?!

– JJ’s just trying to help. – Kie says. She pushes JJ off of you, trying to stand in between. –Look, let’s calm down.

– We don’t want your help!

– Don’t talk to my friends like that!

– Like what? Like the way you and dad talk to me?

– You’re not putting dad into this fucking conversation right now! Jesus, you are so fucking pathetic! – He’s always thought that about you. In all the time you’ve known John, which is all the time you’ve been alive, that’s the word he most commonly attached to you: pathetic. And it echoes in your head as you look at him. The edge in his eyes repeating that word again and again. – You’re literally a child! You’re trying to butt into my friends lives because you don’t have any, and dad’s supposed to be at blame because you had no fucking life until I tried to include you?!

– Oh, oh sorry! Sorry! I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a Saint! I thought I was talking to the guy who bullied me in middle school at the same time he had me help him with his High School homework! My mistake! GO FUCK YOURSELF, JOHN! It took dad disappearing for you to acknowledge the fact I wasn’t some fucking plaything for you to kick around when you’re bored! Get off your fucking high horse!

You see the rage forming on his face again.

– You’re rich! You’re really fucking rich, you know that?!

– I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, John! I don’t care! I can take a humbling from a lot of fucking people, okay, but I don’t wanna hear shit from you! You’re a spoiled brat! Dad never had the guts to tell you no on anything, so you think you’re entitled to everyone’s shit! You think you can control your friends lives, you think you can boss me around and use the money THAT I’M FUCKING MAKING to fund your little parties and make yourself feel better about the fact Dad walked out! Well I’ve got fucking news for you, bro! You’re the fucking child here! YOUR ASS CAN’T EVEN GET A JOB!

– You’re really gonna make this about money again? Is that the problem?!

– Oh my fucking God! TAKE A FUCKING HINT, JOHN! LOOK AROUND YOU!

JJ calls your name again, holding your brother back as Kie begs you to stop. You hadn’t even realized they were talking. – Please! That’s not who either of you are! You’re angry! You’re saying things you don’t mean.

– Oh he means it, Kie. John might be stupid but he’s damn sure not crazy, and he knows what he says! That's what he thinks of me! He thinks I'm some dumb little kid who can't make friends! That I'm some loser who doesn't have a life! He thinks EXACTLY WHAT HE SAID! He thinks I'm fucking pathetic!

– AND HOW EXACTLY ARE YOU PROVING ME WRONG RIGHT NOW?!

– Fucking stop this already! Just GIVE IT BACK! – You were livid now, pushing past Kie and reaching for it, but John yanks it back like it’s some kind of trophy just so he can see you rage.

– You’re not even listening to me! All this shit you’re doing, the screaming, the shouting, the running off to Barry or whoever the hell else— That’s exactly the shit you’d pull when we were kids! It’s like you haven’t grown up at all! You’re fucking doing this or attention!

– Fuck you. Just fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!

JJ’s the only thing standing between the two of you now, a wall in the middle over which the two of you scream. Kie holds you by the shoulders, pleading.

You’re glad for them at that moment, because you can’t be sure you wouldn’t scratch your brother’s eyes out if he came too close.

Your head is spinning. You wanna tear your hair out of your head. And as if what was going on right then wasn’t bad enough, JJ has the gall to open his mouth and tell you to step back: – He’s right. You’re being childish. Just let this go.

You were about to, until he said it.

– I need to let it go?! He was the one that started this shit in the first place! HE took my phone! HE started screaming! HE’S the one calling me fucking names and talking to me like a fucking child! And I’m the one that needs to let this go?! NO! FUCK YOU JJ! THIS SHIT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU! FUCK OFF!

– STOP TALKING TO HIM LIKE THAT, HE’S MY BEST FRIEND!

– Yeah?! And you’re doing such a great job of showing it right now, huh? Freaking out over some scratches on his back and trying to make it into some great betrayal! You’re out of your fucking mind!

– FUCK YOU!

– You’re obsessed! You’re losing your mind over some stupid shit that doesn’t even matter! You can’t fucking handle it when people do things without telling you because you think you know better about their lives than them! Guess what John: Maybe people don’t owe you shit!

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head and pointing at you as if he was some great detective: – You’re going really hard on this aren’t you? You’re hiding something! I know you are!

– What?! Are you seriously accusing me of–? God, you’re insane! GET OVER YOURSELF JOHN! The world doesn’t revolve around you and your little posse!

You can hear a rumble in the distance, the roar of an engine you couldn’t quite place, and you look away, the rage within you giving way to exhaustion. You want this to end, but John keeps going:

– Stop tearing into my friends just because you don’t have any of your own, okay?! This jealousy, this envy shit, it isn’t even funny. It’s just pathetic! IT JUST IS! The fact that nobody gives a fuck about you is not anybody else’s fault! – The words came out like venom, sharp and deliberate, but they struck true.

You kept your eyes on him for a moment, jaw clenched, face still. You could see JJ and Kie looking between themselves in the tension, sort of hesitating, completely clueless as to what to do.

Your brother’s face fell, slowly, as if he was reliving every word that had just come out of his lips in a play-by-play. The emotions flitted through his face like seasons, first it was confusion, then shock, then regret, and finally guilt.

You wished you could’ve said something, something cold, and cruel. Something that he’d be thinking about for a long time. But you couldn’t. Just the effort that it took for you to be able to breathe without crying had frozen the words within your throat. So you were kept silent, took the beer from the railing, and pushed past him.

– Wait- – John reached for you, but you shrugged him off before he could get the attention he needed to formulate his next words. You didn’t want to hear him, be near him, you didn’t want him to exist.

Instead, you look out into the lawn.

– Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just- John falters mid-word, the rumble of the engine cut through the tension like a knife, low and guttural, growing louder as it approached. Both of you froze, your argument abruptly suspended as the sleek black Range Rover pulled into view. You frown for a moment, trying to piece together the fragments of memory you have of seeing this car, but JJ scoffs from behind you on the porch, and when you see Kiara’s expression twist into one of contempt, you know exactly who it belongs to.

The driver stays put, engine still running as if the car itself was too impatient to linger. And for a moment no one gets out.

You approach carefully.

You’ve never spoken much to Rafe Cameron, you only saw him whenever he came to see Barry, and even then, it was always quick. A glance, a smile, a double entendre he says while he eyed you, without ever addressing you directly.

You look over your shoulder again to see if maybe he’s come for Sarah. But she’s been laying in John’s room all evening, and the doorway is empty, no sign of her.

John’s face twists back into anger. He wraps a hand around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. His jaw is clenched as he looks at the Rover, and he seems eager, like a cat ready to pounce.

The passenger door swings open right then, and you see him. Not Rafe, not Topper, or any of his Kook friends, but Barry — A grin splits his face as he steps out, the light catching his golden tooth as his smile widens, a cigarette dangling from his lips. – Well, look who’s got the whole neighborhood in an uproar! – He drawls, voice teasing but warm. – What’s going on, darlin’? You look ready to throw hands.

Despite yourself, you feel your shoulders relax, the weight of the argument easing slightly. – Barry! – You’re surprised by how light your voice sounds as you run to meet him, standing arms open before Rafe’s car, he wraps you up and spins you around quickly, his laughter blowing against your hair. – What’s going on?What’re you doing here?

– Phone call got cut short. – He winks as you pull away, glancing over your shoulder at John. His smirk widens, deliberately provoking. – Figured I’d swing by and see what the fuss was about. Looks like I walked into a family reunion.

– It’s none of your business. – John snaps.

Barry raises his hand in mock surrender, his grin never faltering. – Touchy, touchy. Don’t worry, man. I’m not here to stir the pot. Looks like y’all already took care of that.

– Sorry about the call. – You whisper. – Things are kinda weird around here.

– Not your fault, sweetheart, – He taps your arm with his pointer finger, fixing you a smile as he dragged a hand through his hair and threw the cigarette on the ground. – Some people just don’t know how to let things go.

– I’ll tell you what’s letting go, Barry. You’re gonna let go of my sister and fuck off back to your rat’s nest!

– Ignore him. – You beg, no less worried as you hear your friend whisper an “always do”. – So. What is it?

– What? I can’t just be here for the pleasure of your company? – He pats your back softly, feet swaying as he speaks. – You wound me, sweetheart.

– You’re a peach, Bee. A real charm. But I’m guessing this favour you’re about to ask me isn’t a work-from-home sorta thing. You’ll have my company regardless.

Barry leans against the open car door, his smile fading. He breathes in deep. – You’re not gonna like it.

– Well, I hate you already, – You teased. – can’t see how things could get worse.

– I was gonna tell you on the phone, but the troglodyte over there wouldn’t let me. – He looks over his shoulder, and back at you. – There’s a party, over at figure eight. Boss’ gonna be there. You remember him, right?

A shiver tore through you just at the thought. – How could I forget?

Barry chuckles, shaking his head. – Yeah, well. He kinda likes you, y’know. Thought maybe you’d tag along, help me keep things smooth. – You felt your chest tighten. He pauses, eyes glinting with something unreadable. – Missed you, too. Thought maybe your boy over there was keeping you on house arrest again.

– I can hear you, Barry. – John said coldly, stepping forward.

– Oh good. – He didn't miss a beat. – Thought maybe I’d have to file a request just to get five minutes with her. What’s next, man? A sign-in sheet? You running this place like a damn prison, now?

– Shut up! – Your brother snapped again, his fists clenching. JJ came up behind him, eyes fixed on the arm Barry held over your shoulder.

– Relax, big guy. Nobody’s stealing anything from you, we can’t all break into people’s houses and take their money while they’re gone.

You cringe at the memory. – Barry, please. Don’t.

– Me? I’m not doing anything, sweetheart. We’re just playing around, right, boys? – He chuckled, squeezing you closer as he looked at them.

JJ was the one to speak then: – Get off of her, man.

– Shit, what am I now? A cradle robber? – Barry looks at you with a pointed smile, but he’s not talking to you, he’s just riling them up. – You don’t even like me like that, do you, sweetheart? Unless you do, and then, well…

JJ grabs him by the shirt, but Barry just keeps laughing. – I’m telling you to get the fuck off of her, man!

– JJ, chill the fuck out, what are you doing? – You push him back, away from your friend. There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite read as he meets your gaze. Anger, frustration, sadness. His hands rest on your shoulders, and he opens his mouth, as if to tell you something, but Barry’s laughter cuts in again, and suddenly all you see in his face is anger.

– He’s pushing it! – The blonde retorts, almost childishly.

– Ooh, down pitbull! – He’s almost cackling now, and you can hear a second laugh, something shorter, softer, coming from the car. Rafe’s looking at you too, you can feel his eyes on you. – I’d watch out if I were you, John B! Looks like your buddy here is looking to catch some friendly fire.

– Barry, for fuck’s sakes!

He just laughs at your words, resting his hand on the car door again. – Sorry, sweetheart. But it’s just too easy! – You hesitate, looking back at your brother, whose scowl has deepened. – C’mon, let’s just go.

– She’s not going anywhere with you, – John spits the words out like poison, stepping in to stand next to JJ. – Not with you, and sure as hell not with that psychopath! – You can hear a scoff from within the Range Rover, Rafe seems to be enjoying himself. Enough that he just sits back and grins, waiting for your brother to keep talking.

Barry lets out a whistle. – Ooh, now we bringing Rafe into it? You’re scared of a little country club action, huh? What’s the problem, John B? Brother-in-law not good enough for you?

– What the fuck did you just say to me?!

– Oh, for fuck’s sakes. Stop it. Just stop this shit, I’m tired of it.

– Not my fault your brother’s got a stick up his ass.

– Barry! – You sigh, feeling the limit of your patience encroaching as you turn around. – Give me back my phone, John.

– No. – He swiped it out of your reach again. – You’re not fucking going, and you're gonna thank me for it later. Barry is bad news, as it is. But Rafe? – His eyes darken. You can hear that same chuckle again, and you can tell they're looking at each other. – Rafe’s even worse. You’re not going anywhere near that nut job if I can help it.

– You hear that, Country Club? Surfer boy’s scared of you!

– I swear to God, man. If you don’t shut up–

You pushed him back, long past your wit’s end:

– Quit it. I’m getting really fucking tired of your shit, John. I’m not joking, give it back.

He looks at you for a moment. He'd managed to keep his face smooth for the duration of this talk, though he never could hide his temper, but now he looks as if he could kill you:

– Come and get it, if you want it. It’s right here. – He held it out over his head, smiling without a hint of joy on his face.

– Are we really doing this, right now?

– You said you wanted it. Well, do you?

You look over your shoulder, pondering the options.

Barry’s eyes meet yours as he climbs back into the car, smirking. – Door’s open, sweetheart. Tick tock.

John’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and angry. – She’s not going! – He tried to grab you again, but you didn’t think, you just moved.

You ducked under his grasp, twisting away before he could get a hold of your arm. The sudden motion made your heart race, adrenaline flooding your veins as you bolted toward the car. John cursed behind you, his footsteps heavy on your heels, but he was too slow to catch you.

Barry already held his hand out, his golden grin flashing into laughter as you dove inside. You barely registered the hand that steadied you before you landed ungracefully in his lap, your momentum knocking the breath out of both of you.

– Damn, sweetheart. – Barry drawled, his hands catching your waist steady, where Rafe’s had just been, and the door closes behind the two of you with a bang. – Didn’t know you missed me that much.

– Drive! – You snapped, ignoring the heat rushing to your face.

Rafe’s laughter erupts from beside you, loud and mocking, as the car lurches forward. You glance up just in time to see him smirking at you, his hand casually draped against the steering wheel. The engine revs beneath you as the Range Rover moves, kicking up a cloud of dirt.

You turn around to look at the window, catching sight of JJ and John as they stumbled to a halt. Your brother shouts something – Your name, maybe, or a string of curses – But the roar of the engine drowns him out.

Barry chuckles against you, leaning back on the seat with his arm around your middle. – Remind me to do that again sometime.

– I will man, don’t worry. – Rafe laughs.

– The two of you are sick. – You can feel Barry nodding, his laughing lips pressed against your shoulder, the road before you suddenly becoming clear. They say something else, something you don’t quite catch, as the situation finally dawns on you:

You’re in a car with Rafe Cameron. And it's too late to go back.

[dirtyoldmanhole]

i'm going to be musing about one of gunter's most controversial lines here just because i've been idly thinking about it while drawing.

heads up for dead dove shit.

context: the JP version of Fates:Conquest had a region-locked minigame ("skinship" where you basically pet the character with your stylus lol) where you the player could interact more with a married gunter if you went that route - it also had several JP-only lines which you can read here.

generally they aren't that much different in tone than the EN ones though fun to read (especially since the minigame is lowkey sexual in nature; all the cast's lines were more strongly sexual not just his), but there was one line that uh. raised some eyebrows in the EN fandom when the fan-translators found it, shall we say.

in bold; (i've added some of the others for helpful context; i don't believe all of them are said one after the other, as it's whenever you choose to enter the minigame one is said).

By no means did I think these feelings would develop… Close your eyes for a moment. I apologize… I thought just touching you would be fine… When you touch me like that… Don’t tease me too much… or even someone like me won’t be able to endure it. (TL: He uses the verb “tawamureru” which means to play, joke, or flirt but I decided to liberally change it to tease) You’ve returned. We mustn’t… Oh no… I thought of you as a child but… I love you. Haha… is something the matter? Is it fine for me to touch you too? This side of you… don’t show it to anyone else. My wife… does cute things… I love you. I might have regarded you with special feelings ever since you were young. (A RANK:) Thank you very much for being kind to me to this extent. For as long as you wish it… I promise never to leave your side. (S RANK:) I thought I would always live alone. But you… lit a flame once more in my heart which I had locked away. This time I won’t let you go. I love you more than anyone else.

(... once again touched at how surprisingly romantic he can be)

anyway! oh yes, That Line.

tsk tsk.

given his position of power with essentially raising corrin, you can imagine how some people who already disliked the ship tended to leap on that line as "proof" of him sexually abusing corrin as a child to put it bluntly.

thoughts are still rotating, but roughly in order of:

instinctively (and the most boring position just to get it out of the way) on the first level i don't like how often this line is immediately whipped out to dissuade gunter/corrin shippers specifically but also shippers in general from engaging with taboo sexual concepts. especially when it's just as boringly... crudely blunt as "pedo". (slightly adjacent to gunter fans in general since there's sometimes an uneasy feeling that as long as you don't ship him that way with a 40-year age gap/parental figure/etc there's an exception carved out as "one of the good shippers" as long as you ship him with less of a power differential (eg gunter/shura. note i dig that ship, this is just an example.); though i think this sentiment has thankfully died down as of late versus the early years of fates fandom.)

god that is such a fustratingly common and boring way to engage with media. moving on.

on the second level down, i also instinctively dislike the feeling that it's whipped out to flatten the potential of gunter being romantically/sexually written as either binary concepts of "good" and "bad-touch", with the latter being often pointed out with an accusatory finger. personally i like reading bad-touch gunter for the lulz sometimes. also for the nuance given how sadly complex child abuse/grooming/pedophilia is in real life, and how it impacts the victim in so many ways beyond the obvious. and shocker - i like reading predatory-gunter sometimes even for cranking-the-hog-material! (predatory-gunter is kinda hot, man.) sometimes all of the above at the same time. i think all of these readings is just as applicable and interesting and needful as redemptive-gunter stories. (it's a very similar reason to why i fucking love possessed!gunter noncon what-if setups.)

and the above point doesn't even go into the nuance of can-you-even-have-redemption with the above if you want it. how would that work. how would that work in rev-verse vs conquest (different flavors of anankos possession going on in both. it's so much more complex than your usual grooming story if you frame it that way because his own agency is literally a question mark the entire time, which is endlessly fascinating to me with the horror potential as being a double victim in some ways. is this actually anankos' influence more than anything? how would everyone feel about that? especially anankos being corrin's bio-dad?)

going back to the quote itself there's even several other ways to interpret it that's not a crude (and imo annoying) distraction of moralizing.

like i always found it interesting that for a guy who deliberately self-censors 95% of the time, that he kinda blurts that out in a weak moment (which is already one interpretation, that it's semi accidental). why would he say that to corrin?

seriously, why would he?

i don't think he's trying to scare her off (like he does with some lines when he's a little insecure about his age).

what if he's genuinely fond of and loves corrin with a nuanced blend of fatherly love at the begining but yeah it did turn sexual towards the end (plus fatherly love) and either he doesn't want to exactly interrogate himself when that changed (because i personally think he holds a lot of understandable guilt over these feelings in general), or he isn't thinking about that at the moment and like. how the hell do you relay something like that without caveat-ing yourself to hell.

i think it's one of the few times here he's actually trying to be emotionally honest and vulnerable about how shits' complicated to him too. (and keep in mind he is not in general..... as emotionally aware as the tumblr crowd lol. he's an old man.)

there's a funny line in my head right now of "schrodinger's daddy dom" where society right now is a-okay with a daddy kink from the little's side but metatextually we've created a situation where it's impossible to create a three-dimensional daddy dom that is somehow free of sin and yet has honest to god sexual desires of his own especially in a messy situation like this.

especially in an evolving situation like this when it was very clear by the S-support he wasn't ever anticipating corrin to reciprocate his feelings, and he was dealing with his budding feelings by essentially just keeping it to himself. (canonically, he wanted to do the least-messy thing by not involving himself with corrin. it's only if corrin/you pursue him that he even gets this far.)

the extra funny thing:

all of this is dependent on the translation. culturally, through this whole game of telephone, the line itself may have some other JP specific connotations that we aren't aware of. christ what i wouldn't give to pay a fluent JP translator who didn't mind engaging with dead dove concepts to go through his support chain + these lines and give notes there.

....

and that's probably not even all of my thoughts but it's an essay as-is. :P

[domm1etae]

needy pup

mingi x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

2.1k

Mingi may be the perfect alpha on campus—popular, charming, and everyone’s favorite—but the moment he’s around you, all his composure crumbles. When his need for you gets too overwhelming to handle during a study session, you decide to give your needy pup exactly what he’s been begging for. Turns out, he’s more obedient than anyone would’ve guessed

nsfw tags under

f/m, mention of a/b/o dynam., alpha submissive top mingi, beta dominant bottom reader, pet names, jerking off, pleading, semi-public sex, going down on her, oral sex, quick sex, cumming inside without condom (pls wrap up your piener irl), female reader, and more idk anymore lol

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

Song Mingi is an alpha.

But not the kind you’d expect.

Sure, he’s the campus favorite—everyone knows his name. Whether it’s omegas, betas, or even other alphas, they all seem drawn to him like moths to a flame. But unlike the image most people have of alphas, Mingi isn’t all bark and bite. Yeah, he’s got the size and the presence, but he’s also got this easygoing charm that makes him approachable. He’s not trying to prove anything to anyone. Mingi is just… Mingi.

And that’s what makes him stand out.

It’s not like he hasn’t had his moments, though. Back in high school, he was a total pain—always cracking jokes, pulling harmless pranks, and skating by with his boyish grin. His teachers were over it, but somehow, he had this magnetic energy that kept people from staying mad at him for long. He wasn’t the type to pick fights or throw his weight around; he just had that playful streak that made life a little more interesting.

Now, in his second year of university, Mingi’s mellowed out a bit. He still knows how to have fun, but he’s more focused these days. Or at least, he was until he met you.

Y/N.

You weren’t just some random classmate. From the moment Mingi saw you, something shifted. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful—though you definitely are—it was the way you carried yourself. Calm, confident, like you didn’t need anyone to tell you how amazing you were. For someone like Mingi, who’s so used to people trying to impress him, your vibe was… refreshing.

And a little intimidating.

The thing is, alphas aren’t supposed to feel small. Not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. But around you? Mingi couldn’t help it. You’d give him one look—just one—and it felt like the ground beneath his feet disappeared. At first, he thought he was imagining it. Alphas don’t submit, right? That’s just not how it works.

Except it is.

Because with you, Mingi’s entire dynamic flipped. He found himself saying “yes” before you even finished your requests, practically jumping to do anything you asked. Grabbing your bag, holding the door, running across campus to get you snacks—you name it, he did it. And it wasn’t because he felt obligated. It was because he wanted to.

There was something about you that made him crave your approval. Your smirk, the way you’d tease him—it turned his brain into static. Every time you praised him, even for the smallest thing, he felt like he’d won the lottery.

Before the two of you got close, Mingi spent way too much time trying to figure you out. He’d catch himself staring at you in class or conveniently ending up in the same places as you, hoping you’d notice him. And when you finally did? It felt like the stars had aligned.

But getting close to you wasn’t easy. You weren’t the type to fall for cheap charm or shallow compliments. You made him work for it—really work for it—and Mingi loved that. Every little victory, every small smile you gave him, felt earned.

When he finally built up the nerve to ask you out, his heart was practically in his throat. He expected you to laugh or maybe let him down gently. But you didn’t. You said yes. And just like that, Mingi’s world tilted on its axis.

Now that you’re his, Mingi can’t get enough. He doesn’t care about what’s expected of him as an alpha. He only cares about you. And if anyone thinks it’s strange that someone like him gets so soft for someone like you? Well, that’s their problem, not his.

Mingi’s eyes flit between the clock on the wall and Y/N, who is flipping through her notes at her desk. They’re currently sitting in the schools library, and while Y/N is busy preparing for an upcoming exam, Mingi is squirming in his seat, unable to focus on anything but the growing ache between his legs.

“I told you to go do something productive,” Y/N says, barely sparing him a glance as she writes something in her notebook.

Mingi shakes his head, his pout growing. “Don’t wanna. Wanna stay with you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but can’t hide the amused smirk tugging at her lips. “Pup,” she sighs, turning in her chair to look at him fully. “You’re distracting yourself sitting here. Go take a walk or something. I’ll be done soon.”

“But I need you,” he whines, his voice soft but desperate, laced with need.

“You’re being dramatic,” Y/N replies, leaning back in her chair, arms crossing over her chest. But she knows that look. That glint of need in his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” Mingi mumbles, his gaze darting downward, shame creeping up his neck as he fidgets in his seat. His hand twitches near his lap, and Y/N doesn’t miss the way his breath hitches as he rubs his thighs together.

“Are you seriously getting hard right now?” Y/N raises a brow, her tone somewhere between amused and incredulous.

Mingi’s cheeks flush red as he nods, barely meeting her eyes. “I can’t help it, Y/N. You smell so good, and—and I’ve been good all day! Please…” His voice cracks as his need grows, and Y/N notices the way his hands grip the edge of the desk, trying to ground himself.

“Poor pup,” Y/N teases, leaning closer to him. “You really can’t handle yourself, can you?”

Mingi sniffles, his desperation apparent in the way his eyes shine with unshed tears. “Please, Y/N. I—I need you so bad. Just let me taste you. I promise I’ll be good.”

Y/N tilts her head, pretending to think it over, though she’s already made up her mind. Seeing Mingi like this—needy, desperate, and begging—is enough to make her wet. She stands, gesturing for him to follow.

“Get up,” she commands. “Let’s find a place before someone walks in here.”

Mingi doesn’t hesitate, scrambling to his feet and trailing behind her like the obedient pup he is. She leads him to a small, unused classroom down the hall, locking the door behind them. The second the door clicks shut, Mingi is on his knees in front of her, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

“Good boy,” Y/N purrs, running her fingers through his hair. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? Go on, pup. Show me how much you want it.”

Mingi’s hands tremble as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her pants, pulling them down along with her underwear. He groans when her bare pussy is revealed, glistening with arousal. “Fuck,” he mutters, practically drooling. “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

She smirks, leaning back against the desk and spreading her legs. “It’s all yours, pup. Don’t make a mess.”

Mingi wastes no time, diving in with a hunger that borders on feral. His tongue laps at her folds, drawing out a satisfied sigh from Y/N. He’s sloppy, licking and sucking with a desperation that makes her thighs tremble around his head.

“Good boy,” she praises, her fingers tangling in his hair to guide him. “Just like that. Make me feel good, pup.”

Mingi moans against her, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through her body. His hands grip her thighs, holding her steady as he buries his face deeper between her legs, his nose brushing against her clit as his tongue works her entrance.

Y/N’s head tilts back, a low moan escaping her lips. “You’re so eager,” she teases, looking down at him. “You really can’t get enough, can you?”

He shakes his head, his movements frantic. “Never,” he mumbles against her, his voice muffled. “Need you so bad.”

She lets him continue for a while longer, enjoying the way he whimpers and moans as he devours her. Than she pulls him back by his hair, smirking at the way his lips and chin glisten with her arousal.

“Don’t stop, pup,” she pants, her voice breathless. “Make me cum, and I’ll let you fuck me after.”

The promise lights a fire in him. Mingi dives in deeper without hesitation, his broad shoulders parting your thighs wider as he grips them, keeping you spread open. His hot breath hits your core, and the way his tongue flicks out and barely grazes over your folds has you twitching in anticipation.

“Pup,” you murmur, fingers tangling in his hair as you tug his face closer. “Don’t waste time—get to it. You’re starving, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he groans, voice muffled as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He circles his tongue slowly, savoring the taste, before pulling back to whisper, “Tastes so good, so perfect—thank you…”

“Stop thanking me and start eating properly.”

The edge in your voice spurs him on, and suddenly Mingi’s tongue is relentless. He’s licking, sucking, and lapping at your folds with fervor, moaning softly like he’s the one being pleasured. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you even closer to his mouth, like he’s scared you’ll take this away from him.

The sounds are obscene—his mouth slurping against you, his muffled groans, and your breathy moans echoing in the small, empty classroom. You glance down and see Mingi’s eyes locked on you, pupils blown wide as he stares up, completely lost in the act.

“Fuck, pup,” you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is everywhere—flicking over your clit, dipping into your entrance, and dragging along every inch of you. “Look at you, making such a mess of yourself. You really can’t control yourself, can you?”

Mingi whines against you, shaking his head. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard enough to pull a cry from your throat. You feel one of his hands leave your thigh, and when you glance down, you see him stroking his cock desperately, precum smearing over his fingers as he jerks himself off to the sound of your moans.

“Needy boy,” you tease, tugging lightly on his hair to make him look at you. “All you had to do was wait for me to finish my work, but no, you had to act like a desperate little pupyou are. Now look at you—messy and so fucking hard you can’t even think straight, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” he chokes out, his lips red and shiny as he pulls back for a second. “I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You’re all I want—all I need.”

You smirk, cupping his cheek. “Then keep going, pup. Show me just how much you need me.”

With a low growl, Mingi dives back in, tongue thrusting inside you as his nose rubs against your clit. His movements are frantic now, like he’s trying to prove just how desperate he is. The hand on his cock speeds up, and you can tell by the way his hips are twitching that he’s close.

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” you warn, gripping his hair tighter. He lets out a muffled whimper, his tongue faltering for a second before resuming its task. “Good boy. Make me cum first, and I’ll let you finish after as I promised.”

And after those words, his tongue is suddenly everywhere, licking and sucking like his life depends on it. The pressure builds quickly, and you throw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as the knot in your stomach tightens.

“Right there, pup, just like that—don’t stop,” you gasp, thighs clenching around his head. Mingi groans, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body, and with one final flick of his tongue over your clit, you’re falling over the edge, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes over you.

Mingi doesn’t stop, his tongue still working you through your high as he whines against you, his hips bucking into his hand. When you finally push his head away, panting and spent, he looks up at you with wide, needy eyes, his lips glistening with your release.

“Can I—please, Y/N, can I cum now?” he begs, his voice cracking as he strokes himself faster. “I’ve been so good, haven’t I? Please let me cum, I need it so bad.”

You bite your lip, pretending to think it over, before finally nodding, turning around and bending over the table. “Go ahead, pup. Show me how good you are.”

With a broken moan, he inserts his dick inside, his head falls back as he spills inside of you with just one thrust, his cock twitching as he comes. You turn around right after to reach out and ruffle his hair as he collapses against you, panting and spent.

“Good boy,” you murmur, stroking his cheek. “You did so well for me.”

Mingi looks up at you with a blissed-out smile, his eyes half-lidded. “Anything for you, Y/N. Always.”

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk