#can be taken as one but not risking to tag it as such

[sotogalmo]

6:45

While Fukouna Girl by STOMACH BOOK was playing, I was thinking a bit of Sebastian and his ghost design idea (if he loses r8), I was just thinking of how he is actually similar to like. A half of Petscop, inna way (I've been getting into it)

Firstly. The design is just ..kinda simple. Mainly taken from Daisy-Head Mayzie, and then just made him a dog of sorts. It fits him, with him being similar to Till (who, I will always believe is more dog like then anything). Then I kinda thought of just making his head very paper-y, if that makes sense. Anyways—

I have an idea of how I can go with the If He Loses R8 post, with lyrics from Fukuoka Girl ("i say goodbye to a blackbird. I say goodbye to my own words. she's an unlucky girl, who can save her? this disease that she has, there is no cure. the steel is kissing her head now, then the blood and saliva in her mouth. all the angels laughing down. all the angels laughing down.x2") — but then it just made me realize how similar he is to like. Paul from Petscop inna way???

I don't know at all. Faces are important in Petscop; Eddy's face is one that Sebastian has known the longest, I actually don't know if Eddy remembers Seb's face though (but there is a long-ago post of Eddy and seb 'food for thoughts', and it had eddy interested in seb's hair, which I'll take that. Hair and faces are big parts of a person, imo. My own example is my own mom, because the biggest thing I can remember about her is her hair)

I've connected Sebastian with Hänsel from Evillious Chronicles; who mainly has 3 reincarnated lives(iirc..or maybe he just has two). The whole "rebirthing" thing in Petscop (and also the theory of Paul being Care <- which makes the most damn sense), and also with Hajime Hinata (SDR2; one of his inspos. Hajime/Izuru). ..... Wanting to be safer, wanting to distance himself, wanting to be himself...

But also, just connected with the fact that he was basically abandoned- then when he was kidnapped when he was in his mid-teens or so (flor having him at 15/seb being taken at 15...I wonder if eddy was 15 when AREPH started..just some ideas for a coincidence in the story). Which fits into the fact that, in the game- it was stated that Care was taken into the School basement, and stayed there for Indunno how long.

The way that Paul shows how he's disturbed by Petscop with how things were just like his -> Sebastian having characteristics of an old dog (fear of familiarity, in people and in things).

"rebirthed" in a way of some traumatic thing to happen (he was indifferent to aliens, maybe he even liked some! But that's only towards Arol and Blob. Now? After how he was kidnapped and the way he was.. 'transformed' by his guardian? Yeah. He does stay with them, but it isn't because he likes them or anything. In some way, I feel like Eddy and Arol have a Mizi-Shine dynamic (could be wrong) with how naive Eddy is and how weak Arol is. And Sebastian thought that was how it was. He was naive too. And now? He calls them by their name, just like Paul does- I think? I haven't fully seen the videos by themselves actually, but I will!)

Actually. Funny as well. His previous name, the one he had before he was then called Sebastian- was Lorashishimboaninisshuori. Or in short, "Lora". Practically just having a feminine name, and then he gets renamed to "Sebastian" (which I think was given to him by Arol, since they needed to change that mouthful of a name).

To go back to the Daisy-Head Mayzie one though. Even if there is someone who loves him (Yvonne); "It is the half that drives them crazy, but brings comfort in how human and how they can learn from each other. It is how predatory yet- not one that scares him per-se, it's one that drives the idea of "enjoy it while it lasts". One that Sebastian lives by, even if he forgets about it- but he doesn't really forget about it when it comes to Yvonne. Who, even if gives him some sort of light scare, does comfort him. Gives him comfort to the best she can. 'Peace has always been a rare, fleeting thing.' (taken from a Dian post; round30). "I played it wrong, but that would have been okay. If you haven't given up halfway, you would still be Tiara. This is not what happened, and now I'm gone." (from petscop 12 video by petscop..it just lightly fits inna way)", I just think it would be nice? But also fit with how... Unfortunately normal it is with what happened to Sebastian (both when he was 2, and when he was 15). To follow in a twisted way how Daisies represent— New beginnings, rebirth, hope, loyalty, innocence, joy, etc.

Though, I think that's where the connection ends? I'm really not making sense here, but with making these connections and more- it just. Made me kinda realize that Seb's story has that whole rebirthing thing too, new identity, That Fear Of Familiarity, being left.

I dunno what I'm really trying to do

Anyways. Tagging @zerostyrant because I asked and he said yes

[officialzevran]

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

*barely glances at the other options, doesn't read the comments* NARNIA NARNIA NARNIA NARNIA

[extinctionstories]

On April 19th, 1987, a bird known as Adult Condor 9 was captured in the Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge, near Bakersfield, California. After decades ravaged by the threats of lead-poisoning and pesticide exposure, and intense debate over the ethics of captivity, it had been determined that captive breeding was the final hope to save a species. As his designation might suggest, AC-9 was the ninth condor to be captured for the new program; he was also the last.

As the biology team transported the seven-year-old male to the safety of the San Diego Wild Animal Park, his species, the California Condor, North America's largest bird, became extinct in its native range. It was Easter Sunday—a fitting day for the start of a resurrection.

At the time of AC-9's capture, the total world population of California condors constituted just twenty-seven birds. The majority of them represented ongoing conservation attempts: immature birds, taken from the wild as nestlings and eggs to be captive-reared in safety, with the intention of re-release into the wild. Now, efforts turned fully towards the hope of captive breeding.

Captive breeding is never a sure-fire bet, especially for sensitive, slow-reproducing species like the condor. Animals can and do go extinct even when all individuals are successfully shielded from peril and provided with ideal breeding conditions. Persistence in captivity is not the solution to habitat destruction and extirpation—but it can buy valuable time for a species that needs it.

Thankfully, for the California condor, it paid off.

The birds defied expectations, with an egg successfully hatched at the San Diego Zoo the very next year. Unlike many other birds of prey, which may produce clutches of up to 5 hatchlings, the California condor raises a single chick per breeding season, providing care for the first full year of its life, and, as a consequence, often not nesting at all in the year following the birth of a chick. This, combined with the bird's slow maturation (taking six to eight years to start breeding), presented a significant challenge. However, biologists were able to exploit another quirk of the bird's breeding cycle: its ability to double-clutch.

Raising a single offspring per year is a massive risk in a world full of threats, and the California condor's biology has provided it with a back-up plan: in years when a chick or egg has been lost, condors will often re-nest with a second egg. To take advantage of this tendency, eggs were selectively removed from birds in the captive breeding program, which would then lay a replacement, greatly increasing their reproduction rate.

And what of the eggs that were taken? The tendency of hatchlings to imprint is well-known, and the intention from the very beginning was for the birds to one day return to the wild—an impossibility for animals acclimated to humans. And so, puppets were made in the realistic likeness of adult condors, and used by members of the conservation team to feed and nurture the young birds, mitigating the risk of imprintation on the wrong species.

By 1992, the captive population had more than doubled, to 64 birds. That year, after an absence of five years, the first two captive-bred condors were released into their ancestral home. Many other releases followed, including the return of AC-9 himself in 2002. Thanks to the efforts of zoos and conservationists, as of 2024 there are 561 living California condors, over half of which fly free in the wilds of the American West.

The fight to save the California condor is far from over. The species is still listed as critically endangered. Lead poisoning (from ingesting shot/bullets from abandoned carcasses) remains the primary source of mortality for the species, with tagged birds tested and treated whenever possible. Baby condors are fed bone chips by their parents, likely as a calcium supplement—but, to a condor, bits of bone and bits of plastic can be indistinguishable, and dead nestlings have been found with stomachs full of trash.

There's hope, though. There are things we can change, things we can counteract and stop from happening in the future. It was a human hand that created this problem, and it will take a human hand to fix it. Hope is only gone when the last animal breathes its last breath—and the California condor is still here.

-

This painting is titled Puppet Rearing (California Condor), and is part of my series Conservation Pieces, which focuses on the efforts and techniques used to save critically endangered birds from extinction. It is traditional gouache, on 22x30" paper.

[explorevenus]

my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.’ 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

"I love you too, little one."

[planetaryupscaled]

Three Times is Perfect

Male Reader x Haerin x Minji

Tags: 7k, first time, creampie, oral, threesome, tw

The story is not ours; we are simply alter the original story to our preferred settings.

“Are you ready for me? I hope you’re saving up for when I see you tomorrow 😘”

Minji attached a video. It was taken right before we were going to be separated for months. The video started on her face, scrunched up in pleasure, then scanned down her chest to her perky tits that were crowned by stiff nipples. The video kept going down, showing her taut, flat stomach and the perfectly smooth shaved pussy.

Further down, I could see her pussy lips welcoming my cock over and over again accompanied by a wet sound.

Behind the camera, I could hear myself saying in a low, gruff voice, “Fuck, Minji, I’m about to cum.”

“Just cum inside me,” Minji moaned. “Cum in me...”

The video shows me bottoming her out as far as possible, before emptying a week’s worth of cum into her pussy. Minji moaned off-camera as I pulled my cock from her grasping pussy, allowing the cum to spill out of her, it’s overflowing. I paused the video.

“Come on,” I typed back.

“That is not fair. You’re making it difficult for me to stick to our agreement.”

I must admit that quitting masturbation for weeks was more difficult than I expected. But the girlfriend was going to be out of town for that whole time, and I’d agreed to save it for her. Knowing the pent up passion will make my first time fucking her in weeks even better.

Our junior year of college ended three weeks ago, so our entire group of friends decided to take a vacation at Yejun’s family’s home in Jeju before starting our summer jobs, and Minji needed to visit family, so she was only coming for the last leg of the trip.

“Only 16 more hours,” Minji texted back. “I get in late tonight.”

“Wake me up when you do,” I replied.

“I’ve got a few ideas.” She attached another picture, this time of herself with two fingers buried inside her wet pussy.

“Too much teasing and it’s only 9 a.m. - I’m blocking you” I joked, before hearing a knock at the door.

“One sec.” I called out, before texting Minji: “Have to go, big day of hiking ahead.” I put my phone down, then yelled to the door “Come in!”

Haerin stepped through the door, looking alert and chipper in athletic attire. She took in the room, frowning.

“We’ve only been here one night and your room already look like garbage dump.”

Kang Haerin. My childhood friend grew up two houses from me. We both went to the same college, which was several states away from our hometown, and we remained good friends. However, I can’t say no one asked about me and Haerin, since we’re really that close.

She was undeniably beautiful. I wonder how she can be her while I’m just… me? God really has a favorite.

Though many of our friends say that Haerin has a cat-like personality. That’s right, ‘a cat’ as in small domestic animals covered with fur. See, I'm not sure where they got that idea.

Watching her grew into a stunning, willowy woman with a shapely ass and breasts that were on the smaller side but perfectly fit her short frame. I knew she was beautiful, but our relationship was never particularly romantic, which suited us perfectly. We worked too well as friends to risk anything. Besides, she had been the one to introduce me to Minji, and Haerin was dating Yejun.

“You know how I feel about putting clothes in drawers while on vacation. Besides, you don’t have to share my room,” I said.

I stealthily tucked my erection into my waistband and stood up, brushing past her to grab one of the shirts from the ground to put it on.

“You’re horrible,” Haerin said with a laugh. “Anyway, I was just coming to rouse you for breakfast. Everyone else is done eating.”

“Should I pack a hat?”

“I don’t know. Yejun said there was a chance of rain. Can I check the weather from your phone?”

“Sure.”

Haerin picked up my phone, then let out a yelp and dropped it. She blushed furiously “Waaaa, Sorry, Sorry!”

“What?” I crossed to the bed and picked up my phone. Minji had texted one last picture, this one a closeup of us having sex. The caption read: “Don’t tire yourself out too much.” Haerin had picked up my phone only to get an eyeful of my cock stretching out her friend’s pussy.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that would be up on my phone,” I said, embarrassed. “Minji’s been... sending me stuff in preparation for her arrival tonight.”

“Oh, yeah- no, I get it.” Haerin blushed even deeper, then paused. “I- I only looked for a second, so I barely saw anything.”

“No, of course.” I said.

She looked more flustered than I had seen her in a long time. Neither of us knew what to say.

“I- I’ll just check the weather on my phone,” Haerin said, rushing out of my room.

Given that she was dating Yejun, I assumed she had overcome her embarrassment and shame about sex, but she was still fairly innocent. However, she had just been surprised with a close-up photo of her two friends having sex, so who wouldn’t be embarrassed?

—

Despite the late start, a few cups of black coffee jolted me awake for the hike. Our other friends were experienced hikers who were glad to drag us along at their rapid pace, up trails with pine needles that covered treacherous rocks and roots. I spent the majority of the hike watching where I put my foot, expecting to twist my ankle at any second. When I did hike without my eyes glued to the ground, I found them drawn up perfect, toned, slender legs to Haerin’s ass in her tight athletic shorts. She was walking ahead of me, holding hands with Yejun.

I shake my head. Clearly, a combination of Minji’s teasing and the sexual frustration of the last few weeks had transformed me into a dog, slobbering over anything with the slightest female form.

We stopped for water at a clearing that looked out over the miles of trees below us. As I drank from my water bottle, Yejun pulled me aside.

“Can I ask you something? It’s about Haerin.”

“What’s up?” I thought Haerin had told him about the picture she’d seen of Minji and me and I was ready to apologize.

“Haerin and I have been dating for like eight months now, and...” he paused, a little awkward. “I know this is weird, since you guys have been friends forever, but I’m just gonna say it: I kinda thought we’d be doing more, sexually, by now. All we’ve done is dry humping, nothing below the clothes.”

Hearing that was surprising, but not completely unexpected. I don’t know how that made me feel. Part of me was bummed for my friends that they were missing out on all the great things sex had to offer, but another part of me, one I didn’t realize was there, felt a flash of... something. Not surprise, but maybe lust. I tried to kept my face straight as he went on.

“She’s said she’s waiting to actually have sex, which I totally understand, but do you think she’d want to do anything more than just make out and dry hump? Not just for me. I’d like to make her... finish, you know.”

“I haven’t talked with her about it, it’s not the sort of thing we discuss.” I said, truthfully.

“Do you know if she’s ever gone further than that with her previous boyfriends?” He asked.

“What previous boyfriends?”

Haerin had never dated anyone seriously before Yejun. Hell, the only reason I knew she was straight in high school was that she’d talk about having crushes on boys, but when I’d tell her to do something, she’d refuse.

“If I were you, I’d just let her lead the way. She does what she wants, but not before she’s ready.” I added.

On the way back down the mountain I watched Haerin with more curiosity. It certainly explained her reaction to the picture - she was totally inexperienced, so maybe it was more disgust at what she had seen. I felt bad for just leaving my phone open. I knew her well enough to know her reaction wouldn’t be one of judgment, but it had to make her uncomfortable. I resolved to apologize when I got the chance.

By the end of the hike, we were all soaked in sweat. Haerin pulled up her shirt to mop her flushed face, I could make out the tender curve of her breasts beneath her sports bra… I felt another pang somewhere in my stomach…surprisingly hard nipples. When she lowered the shirt she was looking right at me. I looked away, a little too late.

Damn, I thought, cursing the fact that Minji wouldn’t return for another eight or nine hours. I just needed to stop myself from getting horny for long enough not to do something stupid.

—

“Well, I’m gonna head to bed,” Yejun said, getting up. It was late at night and we’d put on a movie after the night of drinking had wound down. Just about everybody had drifted off from the movie and gone to sleep, save for me, Yejun, and Haerin, who’d seen it through to the end. We were all tired, dressed for bed.

“I’ll be right there,” Haerin said, as Yejun wandered off groggily. Then she turned to me, a small smile on her lips. “T minus two hours until Minji gets here. Are you excited?”

“Of course. I miss her a lot.”

“I mean, are you... excited?” Haerin said, gesturing down at my crotch.

“Hahaha,” I said sarcastically.

Haerin sat in a comfortable recliner across from me, her legs crossed under her. Without realizing it, my eyes drifted down her pajama-clad form and I saw with a start that she wasn’t wearing panties under her loose pajama shorts. I could make out a small dark bush and the tight cleft at the top of what seemed to be her beautiful innie pussy. Of course she wasn’t shaven, I thought, my cock beginning to thicken. She’d never even had sex.

“I guess she hasn’t been too far away, considering all those pictures,” Haerin said.

She shifted on the chair. I got an even better view of her small bush, and through it, her neat pussy lips.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t have to see that.” I tore my eyes away from the faint glimpse of her pussy.

“No, I liked it,” Haerin said. “The wifi’s terrible out here, so my porn has been taking forever to load. Easier to just get it off from the two of you.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” I joked.

“Is there?”

I looked at her, trying to decide whether she was bluffing. We’d both had a lot to drink, but the several hours of the movie had sobered us up. She didn’t usually speak this brazenly.

“Yeah. Videos, too.”

Haerin’s face was now as flushed as mine, is she’s serious?

“Can I see it?”

“Should I airdrop them?”

Haerin stood up and walked across the room to mine. My heart started to beat fast. I couldn’t stand up, because I was so hard.

“Show me.”

I opened my phone, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I pulled up the picture she’d seen, the close-up of Minji’s pussy with my bare cock drilling into it.

“Really?” I asked.

Haerin nodded. She leaned down, and I caught the soft curve of her small breast down her sleep shirt. I hesitated, then thought, Fuck it. I turned the phone to her.

“I’ve already seen this one,” she whispered, sending a shiver up my spine. This was bad. I was too horny. I should lock my phone and get out of here. I swiped to the next one -- the video of me and Minji, paused with the cum trickling out of her pussy, her tits and face in the shot.

“Where are you?”

I rewound the video. The only sound in the room was the slick squishing noise of me and Minji fucking, then her moaning. Haerin’s mouth was half-open as she watched.

“Fuck, Minji, I’m about to cum.” At that, I quickly paused the video, returning to my senses. This was too much. Too personal. Minji wouldn’t want me showing intimate videos of us to one of our best friends. And did I really want Haerin to see my dick? I was more drunk than I thought. And so was she, if she allowed it.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I shouldn’t show you that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Haerin muttered. “It’s… hot. I have a thing for small dicks.”

I looked up at her. She was grinning. We both burst into laughter.

“Oh, you…” I said, leaping up to grab her. She shrieked and tried to make an escape, but I grabbed her and tackled her, tickling her, onto the couch. We were both laughing. Only when I paused for breath did I realize what a bad idea that had been. I was still completely hard, and was only wearing my boxers.

From beneath me, Haerin tickled me back, and I grabbed her arms, trying to keep her from tickling me.

The rest of it happened fast. I was on top of her, hard, and somewhere in the maneuvering, my cock must have slipped out of the hole in my boxers. I knew that reaching down to fix the situation would immediately make it clear to her what had happened, so I tried to keep her pinned, unable to look down. That was my undoing -- Haerin spread her legs, trying to get them around me for some reason.

All of a sudden, as she did, I felt my cock press up through the leg of her baggy shorts, against her mound. She gasped in surprise, moving her lower body back, but all that did was make my cock slip down, nestling into the hot wetness between her pussy lips. It happened so fast I didn’t even think about the fact that she was dripping wet.

“Is that your…” Haerin started to ask, trying to reposition herself.

Then I felt my cockhead slipped inside her opening. We both froze. I looked down. Her pussy lips were stretched around my cock. I didn’t even have time to think about how amazing her pussy looked -- how long I’d wondered what it would look like, what she’d feel like. Though I was only a few inches into her, it was almost too much for me.

“Y- You’re... inside me.” Her voice quavered.

It happened in such slow motion that the freeze-frame image of Haerin below me, looking down in open-mouth surprise at her shorts pulled to the side, her wet pussy clenching my bare cock is imprinted on my mind, though the moment only lasted a second or two.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to...”

“No… I- I wasn’t wearing panties, it’s my...” She trailed off, her breath ragged.

The moment felt like a dream. Neither of us was moving to pull apart. My cock throbbed inside her, and she gasped as I felt her pussy clench. She was getting wetter, somehow. Involuntarily, I pushed an inch further into her, my cock moving on its own to bury itself as deep into her scalding hot pussy as it could.

“Wait…” she said, her voice soft and strained.

“Don’t-” Then she was cut off by a gasp. Her body shuddered, and her legs which still around my back, pushed me deeper into her. I bottomed her out, God her pussy is sooo tight.

Haerin was small, but she could take my whole length buried snugly inside her. Then she came, hard, trying to stifle her own moans while her pussy clenched around my cock.

“Anhh- fuck I’m…cumming...” Haerin whimpered.

Her body jerked, and she wrapped her arms around mine, pushing our bodies together. Her pussy felt too tight. I wasn’t going to last, especially after three weeks of no sex or masturbation. I was bare inside of her, I couldn’t cum in her. With the last ounce of my willpower, I tried to pull out.

“Haerin, I’m gonna…”

I only made it halfway. Haerin, who was still shuddering in orgasm, firmly pulled me back into her. That feeling of sliding my entire length back into her tight pussy was the end of it. I felt my cock swelling up, before I came hard, deep inside her.

As my cock jerked, shooting cum against the back walls of her pussy, her eyes snapped open. She could feel my warmth splashing into her.

“No, no, I’m not…oohhh…”

She writhed in orgasm again, while I emptied weeks’ worth of cum into her. Any thought of trying to pull out was forgotten. All I wanted to do was bury into her and fill her up. I came and came. Each jerk of my cock within her drew another small moan from her. Her pussy squeezed my cock tighter than any I had ever experienced.

“Oh my god....” she moaned softly.

I slumped down on top of her, breathing heavily into her neck. We stayed like that for a while, until the last jerks of my cock and the last of her small shudders subsided, indicating that we’d ridden out our climaxes.

I lifted my head to look at her. She was beautiful- wide brown eyes, cheeks flushed, her hair a mess on her sweaty forehead. Through her white sleep shirt, I could see the outlines of her areolae and the tiny tents of her nipples. We looked at each other for quite a while, faces close together, then she shook her head in wonder.

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

Haerin looked down on our connection, where my cock was still buried inside her. Her pussy was overflowing with our mixed love juice, dripping and creaming around my cock.

“You cum inside me…” she said, quietly.

“I- I’m so sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I stopped you from pulling out. I... I’ve never cum that hard before. It was… really good, I didn’t want it to end.”

“Me neither,” I said, and she let out a small laugh. As she did, her pussy squeezed me, milking another drop of cum from me.

I breathed out and lifted myself up, pulling my cock out of Haerin with a soft squishing noise. My cum dripped out from between her legs, and she reached down to catch it with her fingers. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you always... cum this much? How does Minji take it all?”

The mere mention of Minji twisted my insides. “Oh, god…”

“Don’t feel bad. It was an accident.” Haerin was still on her back, legs spread, looking up at me, making no effort whatsoever to conceal her small, hairy, freshly fucked pussy. It was a beautiful sight.

“Yeah, An accident.” I said.

“No need to explain to either Minji or Yejun why you took your best friend’s virginity and pumped her pussy full of cum, especially when it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Oh fuck- Haerin, I…” In the rush of sensations, I had completely forgotten that I had taken her virginity.

She finally stood, barely reaching my collarbone. I couldn’t read her expression. Then she just pulled off her shirt, revealing her beautiful round, petite breasts that sat high on her chest, with brown nipples that looked perfect on her small tits. She slid her shorts down, revealing her pussy in all its glory. A line of cum is dripping down her legs.

“I’m going to need to shower.” She looked dead serious.

I couldn’t tell if she was angry, confused, sad, or… I was horrified to think I’d just ruined one of my longest friendships.

“Haerin, I…”

“Come join me.”

She took a step toward me and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back. In my dazed state, I hadn’t tucked my cock back into my boxers, and it was pressing into her mound. I was still wet from our combined juices. Haerin looked up at me. Tentatively as if we hadn’t just fucked, I leaned in to kiss her. Our lips met in a spark of passion, we kissed with an open mouth as our tongues probing hungrily for each other, And as if it had been forever. Finally, we broke apart.

“Losing virginity to your best friend, that was the best way to lose my virginity I could have ever asked for.”

Haerin took my hand and led us to the bathroom before locking the door behind us.

“Never know when Yejun will be back,” she said softly.

Haerin turned on the shower. Undressing myself as I watched her outline in the mirror, her incredible ass, tight and perfect for her frame, and that pristine lips between her legs. She shivered after splashing water on her breasts to test their warmth.

“This place takes forever to turn on the hot water,” Haerin said.

I was zooning out, naked, half-hard, staring at her. “What?”

“Oh- just trying to figure out where we’re going from here.” I added.

“Don’t overthinking it. We will always love each other. One accident won’t change that. Besides, there’s something poetic about losing your virginity to the same person you had your first kiss with. Someone you can really trust.”

As she spoke, she stood close to me in this small bathroom. It was surreal having this conversation with your best friend, not to mention that both of us naked, having just fucked, cum still dripping out of her pussy. I started to get hard again, cursing myself for being this horny.

“Wow,” she said, looking down at my crotch.

“Already? You are insatiable.”

“I’ve just been wondering how you look naked, and here you are. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Haerin grabbed my cock with her slender hand.

“Why do you think I wanted to shower with you?”

She got down on her knees, looking up at me with her beautiful eyes and her small mouth half-open. Slowly but surely, she reached out her tongue to lick my tip. A strand of our mixed juice trailed from her tongue.

“Haerin…”

“I’ve never given a blowjob, either,” she said thoughtfully, working her hands up and down my shaft. She circled the tip with her tongue.

“I assumed it would happen before I had sex. I definitely didn’t think I’d be licking my own cum off a cock that had just finished inside me,” she said.

She parted her lips and enveloped my cock in the warm wetness of her mouth. She bobbed up and down on my shaft several times, cleaning her pussy juices and mine off with her tongue. Then she pulled back, looking up at me while continued to jerk my cock.

“I can’t tell if this is you or me, but wow, we taste really good together.”

Before I could answer, she closed her lips around me again, gradually finding a rhythm as she sucked me. I stroked her hair, looking down at the beautiful sight before me, Haerin’s hair is a mess, sucking her best friend cock, her nipples protruded proudly from her pert breast. Her mouth felt almost as amazing as her pussy, and I soon found myself swelling with anticipation. She clearly felt it too as she took me out of her mouth and asked…

“Would you rather cum in my mouth or in my pussy?”

It was strange to hear her, the innocent, sweet, nerdy Haerin, talk like this.

“I didn’t realize you liked talking dirty.”

“You know me,” she said, smiling. “I’m a detail-oriented person.” She continued on sucking, demonstrating a surprising skill despite the fact that it’s her first time giving a blowjob.

She looked up at me and repeated her question.

“So, in my mouth or in my pussy?”

“Honestly I want to do both, but you know me, always indecisive… and God… it’s hard to think with your mouth is on me.”

Haerin stood up as the bathroom started to steam up.

“Think the water’s warm enough?” She asked, grinning.

She pulled me into the shower and our bodies intertwined under the water. I grabbed and kissed her hungrily, working my hands down her breasts, to her side, to her tight ass, pulling her close to me and pressing my cock against her. She lifted her leg onto the side of the bathtub, spreading herself to me. I got down on my knees and pressed my lips against her slit. She moaned in pleasure, but she turned my head, forcing me to look up at her.

“You don’t have to. I… I haven’t shaved.”

“I don’t care about that. Besides, Minji isn’t either.”

“Yeah,” Haerin said, inhaling as I planted a kiss on her nether lips. “I’ve seen the evidence…anhhh” Small moan escapes her lips.

“I want to taste you…”

That was the last word I said before I sank my tongue into her folds, working my way up to her clit and then back down, slowly. I slid a finger into her, pumping slowly in and out as I sucked and licked her clit. I’ve always loved the taste of pussy, and Haerin’s was no exception. As I finger-fucked her, I switched the up and down motion with my tongue to a circular motion, right on her clit.

“Enhhh god, please… just like that,” she whimpered.

“You’re gonna make me cum again... ahhh”

I kept up exactly like that, furiously tonguing her clit and driving my finger in and out of her. Her breath became heavier, and she pushed herself towards me, grinding hard against my mouth. I savored the taste of her tangy opening as she approached her second orgasm of the day.

Finally, with a great heaving sigh and a jerk of her body, she came. While her first orgasms had been hard and all-consuming, but relatively short, this one lasted longer, crashing like a slow wave. I held my mouth to her pussy and continued what I was doing until she stopped thrashing. She lifted me up and kissed me passionately.

“So, what do I taste like?” She asked smilingly.

“Hmm, you taste really good Haerin”

“Have you ever tried lemon zest?” I added.

“Mmm”

“You taste just like that,” I said, grinning.

She stood there for a moment, thinking about what I had just said, then she slapped my hand playfully, and we both burst out laughing.

I kissed her again, silencing her protest. She felt my cock nuzzled at her opening. She reached down and pump it up and down, stroking it up and down in a slow motion, we broke our embrace and she looked up at me. Water cascading down her breasts and dripping off her nipples.

“You didn’t cum in my mouth, and it seems that your dick made the choice for you. In my pussy it is.”

“Haerin. Once is an accident, twice is a choice,”

“Just for tonight, kay? I need you in me.” She said softly.

I slowly began to push in through her tight pussy lips, a thought crossed my mind and I looked at her.

“You’re not on birth control, are you?” She shook her head, kissing me again and spread her legs wider so I could go deeper into her. And deeper it went, I began to push deeper, faster, and harder over and over again as her pussy stretching to accommodate its intruder.

“I could have sworn you got bigger just now,” she whispered, a small moan escapes her lips with every thrust.

“Maybe I like cumming inside you without protection.”

“Ehm yeah? maybe I like that, too… Ahh”

I looked down at our connection, how her perfect lips split open by my grith. She was so unbelievably silky and wet, the perfect pussy that I would ravage forever if I had the chance. And I was bare inside her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her pussy or her petite breasts, barely moving as I bottomed out in her again and again.

“Can I ask you something?” she panted between strokes.

“What?”

“Who... who feels better? Who do you like fucking more? Me or Minji?”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “Look who I’m inside of right now.”

Talking about Minji while fucking Haerin emphasized the forbidden feeling of it all. I could feel another orgasm rushing on, so I closed my eyes and tried to delay it.

“But if you had to say. And you can be honest.” She said.

“When I fuck Minji,” I said, slowing down my frantic thrusting.

“It’s amazing. She has the most incredible body, experienced, and knows exactly what to do to get me to cum. Sometimes I just enjoy burying myself in her pussy and feeling all of her around me”

“God, Haerin, you are so tight…” I stopped, holding my throbbing cock as far into her as it would go. Her eyes were mostly closed, savoring the feeling.

“Sometimes when I finish in her, she’ll reach down and taste me. Which just gets me going again. I have filled her up every different way. Just about every time you’ve seen her, she’s been full of me.” Haerin moaned at this, clenching me inside her.

“But you… it’s a whole different thing, fuck…” I growled.

I started to build up the pace, gripping her tighter as I pound her faster. Haerin wanted to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

We froze.

“Haerin? Are you in there?”

It was Yejun. He sounded tired. Haerin looked at me, unsure what to do.

“Nghh…yeah,” she called out. “I’m almost done.”

“Why are you showering this late?”

I could hear the wet squelch of her pussy even over the rushing water of the shower as I slid my cock in and out of her. She struggled to maintain her voice even as she responded.

“I- I was feeling… a little dirty…mmhh”

“Are you okay babe?” Yejun asked.

“Hmm… yeah… I- I just need a moment- nghh…”

I couldn’t hold out much longer. I whispered in her ear as I thrust into her “I’m going to cum.”

“Don’t cum too much,” Haerin warned in a low voice, pausing to gasp as I bottomed out in her. “You’re still going to need some for Minji tonight.”

“I’d rather use it all up in you.”

“Alright, I’m going to sleep,” Yejun said from outside.

He had no idea I was fucking his girlfriend for the second time ever, readying to burst my cum into her unprotected pussy, again. Haerin maintained eye contact with me as I sank deeper into her.

“I’ll come soon,” Haerin shouted to him, in a voice that I was sure sounded like she was being fucked. I looked down at her naked body, taking in the sight of her pink ravaged pussy and her firm tits, my thrusts increasing in intensity.

“Haerin…” That was all I could groan out before I pulled her tightly as I buried my cock as deep as it could go into her and burst my second load, painting her wall white as far as it could reach. I’m sure her womb is full of those small tadpoles by now.

Last time had been incredible for its novelty, but it had all happened so fast that I didn’t take it all in. This time, I looked down at her, eyes wide open in pleasure as she felt the warm of cum quickly filling her up. I pulled out halfway and pushed in again, watching, satisfied, as a glob of cum was pushed out around my cock, painting her lips white.

Haerin held me hard, flinching as she came down from her orgasm, while I fucked my last drops of cum into her. I was as far up her pussy as I could go and there was nothing between us. I looked down at her cum-filled pussy split open as I pulled out. Cum poured out of her and onto the floor of the shower.

She inserted two fingers into herself and pulled them out, covered in cum. She brought her fingers to her mouth and let me watch as she licked them clean.

“Better than Minji?” She asked with a low voice. In response, I leaned in to kiss her, our two tastes mingling as our lips met.

We toweled off quickly and went our separate ways after one last kiss. The last thing I thought before falling asleep was “I hope we did a good enough job washing each other off and -- out of ourselves.

—

I woke up the next morning, groggily taking in my surroundings, it was sunny in my room. Minji’s bag was on the desk. I realized Minji must have gotten in and not woke me up, or worse, she’d tried to wake me up and I’d been too tired. Then I felt a warm, wet mouth wrap around my cock, which was rapidly hardening. I Recognize Minji’s incredible lips as she looked up at me, smiling around my cock.

“Good morning!” She was topless, her breasts hanging down enticingly.

“I’m so sorry, I was really sleepy last night” I said.

Minji ran her tongue up the length of my cock, slowly and thoughtfully. “You know you talk in your sleep, right?”

“What?” I asked.

“Well, usually you don’t, but you must have been very tired.” She punctuated her sentences with slow licks on my cock. “See, when I came in and got naked and tried to wake you up, you said the darnedest thing.”

Minji buried my cock in her mouth, deepthroating me until her nose was pressed against my pubic bone before pulling back out, lines of spit connecting her mouth to my shaft. I looked down at her, puzzled.

“Right around the time I got you into my mouth, you looked at me and said, A third time in one night.” As she said that, my stomach clenched

She climbed up the bed, angling my cock in between her folds. “I didn’t know what that meant, but then you said, If we keep this up, Haerin, I’ll have no cum left for Minji.” She sat down on my still-wet cock, letting me bury myself into her velvety pussy.

“At first, I thought it might just be a wet dream. But then I tasted your cock and wouldn’t you know it, I could swear you tasted... different.” She lifted off of me, angling my cock into her for maximum tightness, then slowly inched back down. My head was filled with competing emotions; I was turned on, guilty, horrified, and excited all at once.

“Minji…”

“Did you fuck Haerin?”

I didn’t know what to do or say, besides… “I’m sorry...”

She sped up on top of me, working my cock inside her as only she knew how. “I thought she was a virgin.”

“She... she was. The first time was an accident,” I regretted and cursed myself. After these words left my mouth. Why the hell did I have to say ‘the first time?’

“The first time was an accident huh...and the second?”

“It was- less of an accident…” This was crazy. What was going one? She didn’t seem to be mad, asking the questions in a matter-of-fact tone, as if we were having a simple conversation while I was fucking her.

“I’m guessing you didn’t wear a condom based on the taste she left on you.” I shook my head slowly. “Lucky her. She loses her virginity by having raw sex with her best friend. Did you cum inside her?”

I nodded. My cock throbbed inside Minji, edging closer to orgasm. We both felt it. She kept her pace, sliding her perfect pussy up and down my cock.

“She got three weeks’ worth of your cum. Was her pussy... overflowing?” she asked, again.

All I could do was nod, getting closer to my own orgasm, what the hell with all these questions anyway?

“Are you thinking about it right now? Picturing how she looked?”

“It’s- hard not to, when you asking about it… nghh fuck Minji”

“Are you gonna cum in me while thinking about Haerin?

In response, I pushed all the way into Minji and emptied the cum I had left up her pulsing canal. She moaned louder, grinding her clit hard against mine, and she cummed too. I held Minji close as my cock emptying itself inside her.

I noticed a movement near the door.

Haerin stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the spot where Minji and I were joined: Minji on top in a cowgirl position, legs spread, my cock splitting her open with her ass facing the door. Haerin could see our connection where I was bottoming out deep insider her friend.

Minji saw where I was looking and turned around to see Haerin. Haerin flushed and backed away from the doorway, but Minji called out to her, “You can come in.” After a brief moment, Haerin’s head reappeared, beet-red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Mean to what?” Minji cut her off.

I was still hard inside Minji and I could feel drops of our cum running down creaming my shaft. Haerin tried hard not to look at it, but failed, miserably.

“You didn’t mean to watch, or you didn’t mean to fuck my boyfriend and take all his cum like a little slut?”

Haerin said nothing, mortified. I didn’t know what to say, either. Minji beckoned Haerin over to the bed, and she came hesitantly. She was wearing the same sleep shirt as last night, and her stiff nipples were clearly visible through it, maybe aroused by this all.

“Did you like watching us?” Minji asked and Haerin just nodded.

“Say it.”

“I liked watching,” Haerin said timidly.

“You liked watching what?”

Haerin swallowed nervously. “All of it. I liked... watching you... suck him off. I liked watching your pussy being pounded by him. I liked- watching… his cumming inside you.”

I was surprised to hear Haerin say that. The submissive side of her had taken over.

“Come here, you little slut.” Minji commanded.

Haerin got onto the bed, following her order. “Now I want you to taste our connection.” Haerin looked confused, so Minji clarified “Taste the place where he’s entering me.”

I was still rock-hard between Minji's lips. Haerin slid between my legs, looking directly at Minji's supple, round ass cheeks and her trimmed pussy around my cock. She tentatively reach oud her tongue to the underside of my cock. Slowly, she ran it up my shaft, gathering cum and Minji's cream on her tongue before reaching Minji's stretched pussy lips. She licked them up and around my cock, allowing me to feel her tongue on every pass. Minji breathed out slowly, clearly enjoying it.

“Now I want you to take him out of me and clean him off,” Minji said.

Haerin slowly reached out to grab my cock, which was slick with Minji's juices and my cum, and withdrew it from Minji with a soft squish. More of cum dripped on my cock. Haerin opened her mouth and leaned down take me in her mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Minji said. “Keep it in your mouth.”

Haerin bobbed her head up and down, deliberately licking and sucking the wetness off my cock. Directly in front of her nose was Minji’s opening with cum dripping out slowly.

“Now put your mouth on my pussy and put it back in me.”

Haerin couldn’t reply, her mouth full, she looked hesitant. Minji rolled over, spreading her legs in front of Haerin.

“Haven’t you gotten enough of it? Put his cum back inside me.”

I was certain Haerin wouldn’t do it. Fucking me was one thing, eating Minji’s pussy was another. Would this new, submissive Haerin go for it? Still, she was holding the excess cum in her mouth, not swallowing it. She looked caught.

Minji absentmindedly rubbed her clit while waiting. Then, to my surprise, Haerin darted her mouth toward Minji's pussy, pressing her lips against it and reaching out her tongue to let the cum in her mouth dribble back into Minji's waiting hole. Minji moaned in pleasure.

“Keep going... make sure you get it all in...”

Haerin used her tongue to push the cum that had dribbled out of Minji’s pussy back in. She began to fuck Minji with her tongue, in and out of her sopping hole, tasting my cum every time she reached deeper into Minji. Minji closed her eyes, rubbing her nipples with one hand and using the other to press Haerin’s face into her womanhood.

I was rock hard again. Haerin was eating the cum out of Minji’s pussy, or, I guess, putting it back in. Was this a dream?

Minji writhed on the bed as Haerin continued lapping at her, bringing her tongue from the bottom of her pussy, where the cum had pooled, to the top, hungrily licking her clit. Minji gasped, her body rocked with waves of orgasm, and still Haerin kept going. I had never seen Minji orgasm from this angle, normally I was part of the process, and it was hot to see her body constrict in pleasure, tits bouncing, eyes screwed shut. It was even hotter watching Haerin eat her out.

Finally, Minji pulled Haerin's face away from her, which was wet with spit and our mixed juices. Both girls were panting.

“Have you ever gone down on a girl before?” Minji asked. Haerin shook her head, wiping off her mouth. She looked dazed but horny. “You’re good at it.”

Minji looked over at me, at my cock, which was standing upright. “And after all that, he’s still ready.”

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” was all I could manage to say.

Minji sat up and pushed Haerin down onto the bed, on her back. Under the sleep shirt, Haerin was wearing a pair of grey panties that were fully soaked through. Minji pulled the panties down, revealing Haerin’s wet, drenched pussy. As Haerin spread her legs, I watched her pussy lips come unglued from each other, revealing pink folds inside.

Minji reached down, into her own pussy, scooping my cum onto her fingers. She reached over and sank those fingers into Haerin’s. She moaned, writhing on the bed.

“You don’t need the extra lubrication,” Minji said, reaching down to spread her wetness over my cock. “But it’ll get you started.”

Minji pulled my cock to Haerin’s opening. I adjusted myself on the bed, getting up so I was supporting myself over Haerin. Minji slowly rubbed my tip up and down Haerin’s sopping lips, before putting me between them. Haerin cooed in pleasure.

“Show me how you fucked her.”

As I sank into Haerin for the third time, I looked over at Minji. My girlfriend was watching with rapt attention as I bottomed out in Haerin’s pussy. Then I looked at Haerin, who stared up at me with wide eyes. My longtime best friend, the girl I adored, was open beneath me.

“Fill me up again,” Haerin whispered.

“Once is an accident, twice is a choice, but three times?” I asked.

“Three times is perfect.”

[parfaitblogs]

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[urlonelystarrr]

𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒚

ghostface x reader

GENRE → horror, smut.

SYNOPSIS → you're his killing partner. after nearly messing up while out on a nightly kill, ghostface decides that you're in need of a punishment.

TAGS/WARNINGS → dom! ghostface, creampie, rough sex, slapping, choking, degrading, manhandling, overstimulation, angry sex, no particular ghostface implied, spitting, oral!giving, fingering, knife play, mouth fucking, belt whipping, edging, kinda cnc

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you were on all fours, silently cleaning up the mess you had made. ghostface leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you clean. your head hung low in shame, as you wiped up the blood on the ground. he hadn't said a word, and you were fucking terrified.

you grabbed a mop, mopping up the floor in a quick hurry - eager to leave the victims house. the body was all taken care of for now, wrapped up like a present in garbage bags and duct tape. the sudden sound of wood creaking drew your attention over to him, as he took slow steps towards you. "why'd you hesitate?" his voice was deep, in control. he wasn't asking to know, he was demanding. "i don't- i don't know." why'd you say that? why couldn't you just tell him that you felt nervous that you had someone watching you? it seemed your mind had gone blank, the response you'd been thinking of suddenly vanishing into the tension filled room.

"you don't know?" he took a step closer, scoffing. you stopped mopping for a second, your hands holding onto the handle for dear life. "i just got...nervous while you were watching me." you looked at the floor, not being able to look at him. "aw, you got nervous?" he mocked you, before shoving you up against a wall. he held you by your throat, the mop dropping out of your hands and smacking against the floor. "if you can't handle me watching you kill someone, how the fuck am i supposed to trust you to do this on your own? am i your babysitter?" he sneered, his grip tightening momentarily. you shook your head, your hands coming up to hold his wrist. he slapped them away, pushing you into the wall harder. "you can't even handle me, how are you gonna face someone else who's bigger than you?" he looked you up and down, his tone dripping in disdain. "you can barely tell the difference between left and right." your brows furrowed, your frustration only growing at his words. "i killed him, didn't i?" you could sense it, the disapproval of your back talk. you didn't need to see his face to tell he was frowning. "you know damn well that's not what i'm talking about. i'm talking about how you couldn't handle your victim. if i wasn't there, he'd overpower you, and you'd be the one bleeding out. if i'm gonna have to save your ass everytime we go out and do this, im gonna take you out to the middle of nowhere and slit your throat open." he let go of your neck, leaving you gasping quietly for air. you held your own neck, the skin burning from his touch.

he walked away, moving to pick up the body on the floor. you watched as he effortlessly picked up the body, tossing it over his shoulder as if 195 weighed nothing. you swallowed, watching as he walked out the door. he paused in the doorway, turning around to look at you. "get a shovel and help me out. don't make me wait."

you were quick to move, following him outside and grabbing a shovel. he loaded the car, shoving the body inside the trunk while you placed the shovel in as well. the two of you drove in silence, and you sat in the passenger seat, anxiously waiting.

the moment you two were done, you could tell you were in a lot of trouble. judging by the way he slammed the trunk and doors - you knew you couldn't get out of this. he made you stay with him, as he couldn't risk having you out of his sight. you took off your mask, glancing over at him as he kept his on. he turned to you suddenly, titling his head. "the fuck are you looking at?" he took a few steps towards you, his presence looming and authoritative. he held your face hard, his fingers digging into your skin. your brows furrowed, and you winced from how hard he was being. "stop acting all innocent...like you almost didn't fuck up tonight. i could kill you, right fucking now, and nobody would know." he looked into your eyes, smirking under the mask as he saw them tear up. "aw, don't tell me you're gonna cry now because i yelled at you. you're so fuckin' sensitive," he rolled his eyes, letting go of your face.

"you wanna cry? fine, i'll give you a reason to." without warning, he grabbed you by your hair, dragging you to his room. you yelped as he threw you onto his bed, forcing you into laying flat on your stomach. before you could even get up, he was on top of you, his hand on your back, holding you down. "wha- what are you doing?!" your face was pressed into the mattress, your eyes squeezing shut as he held your head down. you couldn't see much, but you could hear the sound of him taking his belt off. you started squirming, but he placed his knee on the back of your legs, immediately stopping you. "don't you move." he warned, taking his belt and whipping your ass with it. the leather came down hard, making you grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. you yelled, trying to move, but he only made it harder for you, using his body weight and strength to pin you down.

he leaned down, the belt still in hand. "i could do a lot worse to you, you know that right? the things i'd do to you, you might not even recover from." he chuckled darkly, slapping the back of your thighs with the belt. you still had your robe on, you didn't even have time to change. your body trembled from the pain, your skin stinging as you cried into the mattress silently, your fingers clutching the sheets. he noticed your whimpering, and slapped your ass with his hand. raising a brow in slight amusement, and something more when he felt your ass jiggle under his palm.

somehow, it hurt more than the belt. your body jolted, your cries becoming more apparent. he pulled your head back by your hair, leaning next to your ear. his body was on top of yours, and you could feel his crotch right against your ass as he straddled you from behind. "you're crying already?" he mocked sympathy, "you think i'll be less mean if you cry? what a baby. your tears mean nothing to me. cry all you want, it won't make me any less harder." you sniffled, wanting to wipe the tears from your eyes so badly. you didn't know what to say, but you figured it would be best if you stayed quiet.

the weight was lifted off of you, and you slowly rolled back over to sit up, thinking your punishment was over. oh, how wrong you were. you saw his belt laid next to you, and his robe was opened enough to reveal his black jeans unbuttoned and unzipped. you swallowed nervously as you looked at him stand there, his heavy footsteps making the wood on the floor creak under his weight. he stood in front of you, looking down at you, before slapping you across the face - hard. you held your cheek, your eyes watering from the impact. he spoke with disdain, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. he appeared bigger, taller, and stronger than you could ever be. "you look like a fuckin mess," he paused, looking at your face. "i didn't know you wore makeup - it's all runny," he spoke like he was disgusted. "though, i knew you always liked attention." his words made you angry, they made you want to bite back. but you knew where that'd get you. his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, and he forced his gloved finger inside your mouth, the pad of his finger pressing down on your tongue. he seemed pleased by how wet your mouth was, and he started to reach down to his pants. you swallowed, pleading for him. "oh my god, please don't," you whimpered. "why? you gonna cry again?" he taunted, pulling his pants down enough for you to see his black boxers. "i've heard people plead for me to not take their life, and somehow you sound more pathetic than they do," he said with amusement. he pulled out his hardened cock, just seeing you in pain and crying made him hard. this fucker- he was big. he didn't need for you to say it, he knew already. his pink tip tapped at your lips, and he forced you to open your mouth by stepping on your foot, making you gasp in pain.

he shoved his cock inside, letting out a hiss of pleasure as he felt his cock be engulfed by your mouth. he rocked gently, letting your tongue coat his cock in your saliva before commanding you to suck. "suck it. no wonder guys don't fuck you, you're terrible at this," he replied as you didn't move an inch, and you fought off the urge to bite. you decided to give in, as pleasing him would only make things better for you. slowly, you started to suck. he watched as you took your time, displeased with how slow you were, he rolled his eyes, growing bored. he pulled his cock out, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look up at him. "you gonna stop fucking around or do i need to smack the shit out of you again?"

his tone was threatening, making you swallow and take his cock back in your mouth. without using your hands, you slowly took it inch by inch, your tongue wrapping around the tip. you sucked on it generously, tracing his veins with your tongue. he tilted his head back, quietly panting. he groaned, looking down at you again, before taking your hair in a fist, and thrusting into your mouth. your eyes teared up from the pressure, looking up at him as he fucked your mouth relentlessly. his breathing was heavy, gasps shuddering as his cock grazed your tongue, the way your lips sucked on his tip made him crazy. it didn't take long for him to finish, for him to fill up your mouth with cum. "swallow it." he held you by your cheeks, fingertips burning into your skin. you obeyed, swallowing it.

he seemed impressed by how you didn't gag, but he wasn't gonna tell you that. you were slightly relieved when he pulled his pants back up, and when he left the room. you wiped your mouth, hating yourself for enjoying it.

you were confused, he hadn't said anything at all in the past hour. you got up from your room, leaving to take a shower. you stood underneath the water, deciding to pamper yourself after what happened. you shaved, used a body scrub, and your favorite body wash. you swore that you heard the door open, but you felt that it was just your paranoia of being in punishment that made you believe that.

you ended up finishing quickly, but you were quick to notice the missing thong from your pile of clothes. you exited the bathroom, going into your room to change. you felt that pampering yourself might make you feel less worse about this whole 'punishment.' you felt slightly disgusted, how many people did he do this do? you rubbed lotion on your arms and legs, jumping when the door handle started to move.

you were barely clothed, just a pair of grey shorts and a little black tank top. he entered your room, looking pissed off again. "you're a bitch, you know that?" he came closer. "making me feel like a fuckin' teenager in heat. you know how many bitches i fucked trying to get you off my mind?" you paused, completely taken aback.

"you're just some dumb bitch i've gotta babysit while we kill people together." his hand runs up your neck, the leather from his gloves caressing your soft skin. your brows furrowed, and you could tell he was smirking under the mask. "dumb girls like you don't even cross my mind a second time after i've came." you looked away, shame and embarrassment burning your cheeks after what had happened. you felt used - like some toy for him to get off on. "if you're feeling used, it's because you are. you fuckin' suck at killing," he paused, his hand sliding up the back of your neck - taking your hair and wrapping it around his hand, "maybe these hands are better for this." his unoccupied hand took your wrist, and he placed it on his crotch. you could feel him hardening under your palm, and you swallowed nervously.

he looked down at you, fighting the urge to smile at how pretty you were. "you're pretty when you cry," he chuckled darkly. "maybe I should make you cry more often, you look so good." you didn't know how to feel, he was being so cruel but so nice at the same time. you couldn't lie, you were eating up whatever compliments he gave - since they didn't come often.

but, his good mood disappeared as quick as it came, and before you know it you were shoved down onto your bed. his hands pinned your wrists down, and he was quick to straddle you. you fought against him, but it only ended up with you getting slapped. he didn't say a word, his hands already abandoning your wrists to travel up your top. you gasped softly as he gently pushed your top up, a finger tracing your abdomen. "look at you, barely fuckin' clothed. it's like you want my attention," he laughed cruelly. he reached behind him, pulling out his hunting knife. he dragged the tip up your stomach, the faintest mark appearing on the soft skin. he watched how your skin dented under the knife's weight, his lips pulling up into a twisted grin that nobody could see.

he ran it up your body, cutting your top open. the knife laid against your neck, and you swallowed thickly. you laid still, as if breathing would get you killed. his hand came down and squeezed your boob, and he leaned down next to your ear. "i usually don't give girls attention like this, but you're different." he sighed in frustration, "you gotta boyfriend?"

"no," you cleared your throat. "it wouldn't matter anyway, id kill him just to have you for myself." he chuckled, his hand running down your stomach to press against your clothed pussy. you jolted underneath his body, squirming slightly. "don't move, girl." you could tell he was looking you up and down, "i'm gonna make this pussy mine." you tried to move again, but he held you by your throat, his thumb digging into your neck. you gasped, and his hand went down your shorts. you shuddered when you felt his finger run down your pussy, his gloved fingertip sliding in between your lips. he watched your brows furrow, and your lips part slightly to let out soft gasps.

you didn't know how to feel. were you angry that he was treating you like this? speaking to you like you were below him? all of that faded as you felt his finger circle your clit. a sharp gasp exiting your mouth, your back slightly arching on its own. you felt him press you into the mattress, his strong arm holding you in place. "that's it, good girl." he murmured, watching as you moved your hips like some bitch in heat. he removed his finger, his hand disappearing under his mask as he tasted you on his fingers. you opened your eyes and looked at him as he tasted you. you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

his legs were spread as he straddled you, but he got off of you, and stood by the edge of your bed. he yanked you to the edge by your ankles, until your lower half slightly tipped over the edge. he pushed your legs up to your chest, a hand under your knees as he traced your clothed pussy with his finger. his breathing had become heavier, and he practically tore your shorts off you. he moved his mask slightly, just to spit in your mouth. he forced it open, dragging his ring and middle finger along your tongue. when he pulled your thong to the side, his eyes glimmered in amusement at how wet you were already. "didn't even need to use spit," he chuckled. "suck it off." his fingers returned to your mouth, and you sucked his spit off of them.

he couldn't wait, he was hard the moment he stepped into your room, and saw how your shorts hugged the fat of your ass. he pressed himself against your wet pussy. the front of his jeans were dampened, and he groaned feeling you pressed against him. in a quick motion, he unbuttoned his jeans. "spread that pussy for me," he ordered. your hands came around your thighs, spreading open your pussy for him. he ran a finger in between your folds, your mouth parting to let out soft pants. he circled your clit slowly, before teasing your hole with the tip of his finger. he leaned down, his ring finger poking at your hole while his thumb caressed your clit. "you're dripping," he sneered. he felt pride knowing you were so wet because of him, and something darker gleamed in his eyes as he heard your soft whines and the sounds of you sucking in a breath. he slowly sunk his ring and middle finger in your hole, watching as you tipped your head back. a soft whine left your mouth, and he picked up his pace seeing your reaction. "come on," he encouraged, "show me how good this pussy is." upon hearing that, your pussy clamped around his fingers, and he looked at you with amusement.

he curled his fingers, making you arch your back. his pace quickened on your clit, and you swore you were going to cum, when he suddenly pulled out. you opened your eyes, shocked to see him laughing. "oh baby, you're not gonna get to cum so quickly." he stood up to his full height, taking his pants off and pulling them down. he pulled out his cock, rubbing the tip in between your folds. you looked at him, brows furrowed as he teased you. "you're still being punished, remember?" he taunted, leaning down to choke you again. you held onto his wrist, and this time he let you. "please," you whined. "please what?" he tilted his head, looking down at you.

"please, put it in. i-i can't.." you squirmed, trying to gain some friction. but instead, he pushed your hips down into the mattress, his voice quickly turning menacing. "stop moving, girl." he warned, his cock resting heavy on your pussy. he tapped his tip against your clit, rubbing it up and down before teasing the tip in. your painted toes curled with anticipation, as you let out a soft gasp as he stuck it in. but he quickly pulled out, leaving you with an empty feeling. just as you were about to protest, he stuck it in quickly, instantly filling you up. you let out a groan, your back arching again as he stood still. "relax, i haven't even done anything yet." he said with contempt, but it was amusing how turned on you were by this. "do you not get dick often? that would explain it," he smirked, loving the look of frustration on your face.

he started to rock his hips, fucking you at a painfully slow pace. but you knew not to disobey, even though you just wanted to move against him. he held open your legs, watching as his cock disappeared inside your pussy, how you sucked him in so fucking good that his eyes rolled back. your breathing was shaky as you tried to handle his slow pace, and to make it worse he added a finger to your clit, rubbing it in all the right places. he loved how your mouth hung slightly open, your brows furrowing as you looked as his cock inside you. your eyes trailed over his body, the distinct v line fading into the carved muscles of his upper half. he noticed you looking, and lifted his robe up to expose more of his stomach, while rolling his hips into yours.

a sharp gasp left your throat, as he started to pick up his pace. he pounded into you harder, yet his pace was still slow. he enjoyed watching you nearly cum all over his cock, and pulled out just before as you were about to. "do you wanna cum?" he taunted, leaning next to your ear while he pounded into you. you couldn't help the gasps and moans that left your mouth, "yes, please let me cum, please.." you begged, your legs sore from holding them up for so long. he suddenly pulled out again, forcing you onto your hands and knees. "I'll make you scream, baby. " he pulled your hips towards him, slapping your ass until it left a mark. he stuck his cock back in, pulling it back out and watching as your hole stayed in the same shape he stretched it. "I'm gonna make this pussy cum," he groaned, fucking into you sloppily. his abdomen was pressed into the fat of your ass, and you could hear the heavy breaths that left his mouth as he pounded into your pussy. his fingers returned to your clit, sloppily rubbing it until your pussy was clenching around his cock.

"be a good girl n' cum for me, show me how much you like this dick bitch." your knuckles were gripping the sheets, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back as he fucked you into oblivion, the side of your face pressed into the mattress as he buried his cock deep inside you, his fingers rubbing at your clit until you were a moaning mess. you swore you've never came so fucking hard - after nearly three times of him almost coaxing it out of you. "oh my god," you tried to move away, a scream leaving your throat as you felt him fuck you past your orgasm. you could feel him filling up your pussy with his cum, and he let out a deep groan, leaning against your body for support. your body collapsed, as you let out heavy pants. your eyes opened in shock when you felt yourself being lifted up, and he slammed you into the nearest wall, pounding into your pussy as if the two of your bodies weren't aching.

you couldn't remember how many times you came. he ran a finger up your pussy, practically fucking his own cum out of you. he pulled out his cum coated cock, and stuck it in your mouth. you licked him up, savoring the taste of him. "you freak bitch," he chuckled darkly, holding the side of your face. you sat on the edge of your bed, putting your clothes on while he pulled his pants up and left. you figured that he'd be the type to do that, and you decided it was time for another shower. but you could only imagine the surprise when you came back to your room, and saw him laying in the bed. he pat the space next to him, and as soon as you laid down he pulled you close to him.

"sleep with me," he moved up his mask slightly to kiss your neck (which you couldn't see since you were the little spoon.) you hummed in acknowledgement, laying comfortably in his strong arms. his fingers caressed the soft curve on your side, prompting you to fall asleep.

after that encounter, things had gotten strange. the girls that he'd fucked before you went missing. that or they were brutally murdered. when he heard shuffling around in the kitchen, he rose from his bed with a hunting knife tucked into his pants. "what the fuck?" he muttered, seeing you bloodied. "killing spree?" he let go of his knife, leaning against the wall. you came up to him, lifting up the bottom of his mask just enough where his neck was exposed. you started to kiss the skin, sucking on all the right spots. his hand rested on the small of your back, unsure of what caused the sudden affection - not that he was complaining. then you said something that made him shudder, "this dick belongs to me." oh fuck, he was losing his control. your hand ran down his stomach and groped his cock, eliciting a deep groan from him. "I don't belong to anyone," he panted, knowing you'd get angry. "tell that to them." you looked into his eyes, and his face fell as he connected the dots. but he wasn't afraid of what you were capable of - in fact, he found his perfect match.

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authors note: since halloween is coming, I decided I should throw in another ghostface fic cause he's so fucking hot likeee...

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Closer | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; slight angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption; kitchen emergency; eldest child feels, adulting; explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!); Seven JK (18+)

Word count: 19.2k

Read Part 1: Hold Me Close

Summary: When you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up... Not if your brother can help it, though.

Listen to 🎵: Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

Playlist 🎶: High School Playlist

A/N 1: I know I said I’d be on a break but I reread Hold Me Close and found comfort in this Jungkook 🥹 so I went ahead and wrote this little piece! Whipped and comforting boyfriend JK is what I needed so I hope you enjoy this 💕

Six - the number of work calls you’ve already taken in the last hour, with each one of them lasting one whole song. Jungkook calculates that you’ve spent half of the entire drive since leaving Seoul talking with your boss about some report that he somehow can’t complete without you, which sucks because Jungkook was really looking forward to this road trip with you and his best friend.

You groan after you hang up and the clackity clack of the keyboard continues. He was hoping to hold your hand while he drove and maybe sing with you some of your favorite songs that he put on but it doesn’t seem like those will happen anytime soon. You’re immersed in your work but he guesses you have to be; the sooner this ends, the sooner your focus will be on him and this present moment.

He finds the positive side of it at least. He gets to listen to you explain things - why the numbers are what they are, what targets you reached, and what risks you managed. It’s quite silly but it’s kind of a turn on, hearing you talk about something you know like the back of your hand, pretty much proving to your crap of a boss how good you are at your job and why you’re an asset to the company. You know your shit, and you have a classy way of making sure they know that you do. 

Six calls, and Jungkook already knows half of your project report. And perhaps he’ll know more, as the seventh one comes.

You let it ring for one, two, three times, as you hold your phone in one hand while you continue to type away with the other. 

“I swear to god, ___. If you don’t pick that up, I’m  gonna throw your phone out of this car,” Jimin, who’s comfortably seated in the backseat, growls. 

The dramatics is understandable because one, it’s Jimin and two, the constant ringing is a little bit much.

“___, I’m not fucking kiddi—”

“Hello, sir,” you finally answer, then proceed to discuss this month’s analytics and projections for the succeeding quarter.

Jungkook predicts it’s gonna take you another whole song to finish, so he instead focuses on the road and appreciates the clear skies and familiar scenery of the drive to Busan. His thoughts go to how these next several days are gonna go. There’s visiting your favorite spots growing up, going to a resort, staying in to eat and play video games, and of course, cuddling with you in your room, as you and Jimin will have your parents’ house to yourselves once they leave for their anniversary trip in two days.

His musings are disrupted though, when he looks at the rear view mirror and sees Jimin’s annoyed face blocking his view. Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when he hears his best friend grumbling complaints just behind him.

“Leave her be, she’ll be done soon,” Jungkook dismisses him. “They sound like important stuff.”

“She’s talking so loudly!” Jimin groans. “I just want to reminisce and sing along to our teenage emo music, Kook.”

Jungkook turns the music off. 

“There, I paused it. You can sing along once she’s done speaking on the phone,” he says.

Jimin pouts in response. “You always take her side. You weren’t like this when we were kids.”

“Well, if it means anything, I always took her side. I just never told you,” Jungkook laughs.

“Traitor.”

“I’m literally your most loyal friend.”

It’s a statement that Jimin can’t counter. Jungkook is his most loyal friend. And the most supportive. And the most dependable. And definitely the one who’s never left his side. 

When Jimin casually told their group that he likes girls and boys, Jungkook was the only one who didn’t need time to “warm up to the idea.” Jungkook was also the only one who never disappeared whenever he had a girlfriend. He was also the one who never missed a single one of Jimin’s dance showcases in college and professional shows. 

And of course, Jungkook was the one friend who took up his offer to drink that Friday afternoon, resulting in that infamous gutter incident - as you like to call it - and his subsequent unemployment and homelessness. While you, his beloved sister, were there to pick up the pieces, so was Jungkook, the way he promised he would after they became friends at 10 years old. 

Those months when Jimin was heartbroken and unsure of what he was going to do with his life, his best friend was there to make sure that he wasn’t going to lose his drive and love for dancing. His best friend is also the one constantly cheering him up about this long-distance relationship that he decided to have with Taehyung while others continue to be a skeptic.

Jungkook is that friend, and Jimin supposes he can forgive the other man every time he sides with you.

Jimin is about to complain again when you put the phone down and make one of your restrained cries. He pities you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you wouldn’t be doing your work stuff while you’re on a trip of what’s supposed to be a mini-break.

“I don’t get why you don’t pick up after the first ring,” he huffs. 

“It’s so Mr. Soo knows that I’m not easily available,” you say. 

“But you are. You answer it anyway,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m gonna answer it anyway. Might as well make him wait for it because he needs me,” you point out. “It’s bad enough that he’s calling while I’m taking the leave he approved, so I’m just pissing him off. He doesn’t know I changed the prompt to leave me a voice message to an annoying song so he’ll have to sit through it to get to me. I already know it’s getting on his nerves.”

“Ooh, petty. I like that,” Jimin hums. 

“I know. I got that from you,” you proudly smile.

“But why are you even working?” He whines, your brother’s tone more of pity than annoyance. “It totally defeats the purpose of a leave. And you shouldn’t be indulging him!”

“Well, Mr. Soo approved this leave thinking that Chul would help him craft this report, which is based on the project that I proposed, only to realize that he doesn’t know shit about it because I wrote everything, and he just took the credit,” you explain. “I don’t want to be doing this, too, but I also just took the chance to show who’s driving the wheel, and it’s definitely me. Plus, I worked hard for that project. Working on the report at least gives me a chance to give myself credit for it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Jimin concedes. “Your voice is just so loud.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to match his tone,” you say. “But he’ll be in a meeting for the next hour or so and he probably won’t need me again until then. You can turn the music back on.”

“Ugh, thank god,” Jimin groans again. “I missed my favorite song.”

He leans forward and squeezes himself in the small space between you and Jungkook. The proximity causes Jimin to smack his elbow on your face, which you know is intended, considering how much of a brat he is. So you do what you always do - flick the back of his head. 

He yells but gets over it once he manages to press the rewind button and plays the song he’s been wanting to hear. You haven’t been paying attention throughout the drive and hadn’t even known what they were listening to, but once the music comes on, a wave of nostalgia hits you.

You take the CD case you see in the compartment and scan the song list.

“Dashboard Confessional?” You read out. “Mayday Parade? Something Corporate?”

You go through 2 other CDs and look at both men questioningly. 

“These are literally plucked out of my high school playlist that I illegally downloaded,” you state, given that music streaming sites weren’t a thing over a decade ago. “Why do you have them in CDs? And did you even know these songs back then?”

“Yes, because we listened to your playlist when you weren’t around,” Jimin confesses, earning him a flick on the arm. 

“You went through my computer? You were in my room?!” You yell.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “It was a boring room, there was nothing to see. We just wanted your music because they were cool, but I’d never admit it.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head. “But it was my ex, remember? He was a new kid from the US and he got me into these emo rock bands and I thought they were cool, too. He downloaded them illegally for me and I just jammed to those songs all the time even after we broke up.”

“We know. Jungkook and I could hear it from my bedroom,” Jimin says, “which is why we used to sneak in and listen when you weren’t around.”

“Is that why you put them in a mixtape? So you could listen to them whenever you wanted?” You ask, turning to Jungkook because between the both of them, he’s definitely the one who’d know how to do this.

“Yeah, Kook. Why did you make these mixtapes when neither of us had a portable CD player… but my sister did?” Jimin presses, cocked eyebrow and smug face on display.

You’re looking at him now, and it’s a curious look that Jungkook can’t resist.

“I just thought to put your most played ones in CDs,” he shyly admits, “and uh, planned on giving them to you before you left for college. But I chickened out so I just left them in a box in my room that I brought to Seoul. I’d forgotten all about it until Jimin raided my studio and found them.”

“You… you made me mixtapes? When you were 15?” You ask.

“___, I think I’ve established enough that I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager,” he turns to you and laughs. 

It’s a little embarrassing even if he’s already dating you. It still feels surreal sometimes, as he thinks of his growing up years and how he always looked forward to sleeping over at Jimin’s place and then catching glimpses of you. There were the times when you’d watch movies with them in the living room, and then he’d help you clean up in the kitchen so he could spend more time with you.

That was over 10 years ago and so much has changed, but the admiration he felt for you never dwindled. There was always that image of you looking happy. He kept that version of you in his mind, even when you had your boyfriends. He just wanted to remember your smile, and now he gets to be the reason for it, like now.

“It’s just… it’s very sweet and thoughtful,” you say softly. 

“I… Well… I took interest in the things you liked. I guess that happens when you like someone.”

“Told you he’s a romantic,” Jimin nudges you. 

Between the fairy tattoo he designed and did on your shoulder, the dinner and picnic dates he takes you to despite both your busy schedules, and the way he holds you so close to him whenever and wherever he can, you can definitely say that Jungkook is a romantic.

It’s only been three months but it feels as if you’ve been dating him for longer, given the overflow of affection he’s been giving you. It’s in the way he always holds your hand and kisses you so passionately. It’s in his encouraging words and the way he spoils you with the littlest things. 

It’s refreshing to be with him. He has boyish charms that have become even sexier with his slightly long hair and the lip ring that he recently got. And whatever he’s wearing, there’s just something so comfortably sexy about him that’s both warm and exciting, and you often find yourself swarmed in butterflies whenever he talks about you.

It’s only been three months but it’s a relationship you’re still slowly being open about. Your friends were definitely surprised. Hoseok fell off the couch with all his body movements; Jin spat out his drink; Yoongi gasped, then followed it up with a teasing smirk; So-Hee and Na-eun gushed over how Jungkook treats you, and took the chance to say how he’s gotten more handsome over the years. 

You asked them if it was that shocking for you to be dating someone younger - and your brother’s best friend at that - and while they said it was a bit unexpected, what really got them was how different Jungkook is from your exes. He’s not some corporate man with ambitions, they pointed out. His life is less structured, too, given his freelancing career and gig at the tattoo parlor. He’s definitely a lot more laid-back and more casual than they’re used to. 

They were short of remarking that Jungkook’s lifestyle isn’t as stable and secure as what you normally go for, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a thought you’ve had before, and something even he brought up because he didn’t want you thinking that he can’t keep up with you. But you’d been the one to point out to your friends that stability can come in different forms. With how Jungkook has been so dependable and assuring, that’s given you more security than you ever thought. 

But it’s not something that’s easy to explain. Maybe your friends could understand. They’ve made careers in different industries, after all, with short term jobs forming part of their resume. But your parents are of a different generation and mindset. Stability for them means one thing, and they raised you to want the same thing in the same way. 

Which is why it’s already been three months, and you still haven’t told them about you and Jungkook. 

“I started young,” he laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. “I used to just choose my moments of romance but with you, I’m romantic all the time.”

“Really? Does being a flirt count as being romantic?” You cock an eyebrow.

Because that’s what he is. He likes to tease and call you out when he affects you. He likes to charm and then edge you until you’re pleading for him to do more. 

“Definitely! I mean, I’m out here living my teenage dream, you know?” He winks at you. “Not just anyone gets to say that they’re dating the person they had a crush on when they were 13.”

“Oh god, here we go again,” Jimin groans, earning him a laugh from you and Jungkook.

But even if your brother fake-gags at your not-so private displays of affection, you know deep down that he’s happy for you and his best friend. The two most important people in his life found comfort in each other, and he gets to witness and bask in that. 

He also gets to brag that it all happened because of him. 

You spend the next hour jamming to all your favorite emo rock songs because Jungkook wasn’t kidding - he really did include all of the ones you had on repeat from your playlist. It takes you back to over 10 years ago of playing the music so loud while you’re in your pajamas, jumping on your bed and singing your lungs out. They don’t really remind you of your ex-boyfriend. That was a short-lived relationship that only really had you appreciating the songs he shared and not much more. 

Your boss doesn’t reach out to you until a half hour later. He’s taken to sending you messages instead, and when he does, you’re back to typing away on your laptop, to the displeasure of both men. 

They don’t call you out this time and instead leave you be. Until, of course, it hinders you from enjoying yourself.

The car has stopped but you’re still on your laptop, double checking figures. Jimin has stepped out after telling you that he’ll throw your laptop in the ocean if you don’t stop, but Jungkook stays with you inside the car. He bops his head and hums to the music that neither of you could barely hear. He picks on his fingers and yelps at the hangnail he pulls out. He opens the window and shoos away a bug, then hangs out his head to feel the late morning sun.

“Kook, you can go out if you’re bored,” you say, your eyes still glued to your screen. “You don’t have to stay with me here.”

“But I want to,” he responds. “I’m not leaving until you do, not when you said we’re spending the week free from work and stress.”

“I just need to get this done,” you sigh, rechecking your stats for the third time and then aligning the table. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“You said that 15 minutes ago,” he points out, not wanting to sound like he’s complaining, although he might as well be. 

“It’s just—”

“You’ve done your part, babe. You’ve encoded the figures and cross-checked the targets and objectives. Writing the rest of that report and formatting it isn’t your job anymore,” Jungkook says. “You weren’t even supposed to do those. You’re not on the clock. You’re on leave, and you deserve this break.”

“I hate that I have to work, too, but it’s not something I just can’t do, not when my boss is calling and expecting me to do all this,” you groan. 

You see his eyebrows furrow and you get defensive. 

“You know what, nevermind. You work solo, you answer to no one, you don’t have to prove yourself to corporate assholes. You won’t get it.”

You sigh once more and return to reviewing the conclusion, but the sudden silence is unnerving. You glance at Jungkook and see the look on his face - it’s not sadness but disappointment, and it’s one you don’t see very often on him.

You’re about to apologize when he speaks, his voice soft and low, as if speaking is difficult for him.

“I work with so many clients on a daily basis, with more than half of them setting deadlines that they don’t even follow and demanding so many things so yes, I get it,” he says. “But I put my foot down when I need to, because I learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t let people walk all over me. I know you’re up against a lot of things and you may feel like your hands are tied but they aren’t. A break won’t hurt you. And you know you deserve it. We deserve your attention, too.”

Your heart cracks at his words. Even more at the way he looks, as you see that all he wants is to spend time with you. He’s been busy, too. He’s spent the last few nights at his studio, buried deep in his projects because he said he wanted to focus on you this week. And you know that he’ll keep his word like he always does. Jungkook is dedicated to his work but he focuses on you when he says he will. You’re the one not loyal to what you say.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Just do what you have to do,” he interjects, his eyes downcast now. “I’ll be outside with Jimin. Come out when you’re done. You like it here, so don’t worry. We won’t leave until you’ve come down.”

Jungkook exits the car before you can say anything. You watch him walk down the stony path towards the ocean.

You hadn’t even realized you’re here. 

You’re at Cheongsapo, with the pebble beach just meters away being one you all went to as kids. Jungkook’s older brother used to drive you here during summer, and you all enjoyed the calmness of the place. You used to bet on who would treat ice cream by playing rounds of stone skipping, with Jimin winning every single time. You remember how you and Jungkook taught each other how to do it, and then tag-teamed against your brother so he could finally treat you both that one time. 

Whenever you’d visit Busan during your college breaks, you’d always come down here with your friends, with Jungkook and Jimin in tow. You’d visit at sunset and hold out your sparklers, then navigate the terrain at night and laugh about who tripped and slipped on the way back. 

Jungkook’s right. You like this place. It holds so many memories of your youth, and you find yourself constantly reminiscing, as you try to recall his place in your life back then. 

You mentally smack yourself. He didn’t deserve your dismissal. He didn’t deserve the way you spoke to him. He’s been trying to help, especially with how busy you’ve been these past several weeks. You were supposed to work from home while you housesat your parents’ house but Jimin convinced you to take your untouched leaves when Jungkook decided to come, and then they both called it a mini-break.

And maybe you need it, considering that all this preoccupation with work has caused you to snap at your boyfriend when all he wanted to do was ease your mind.

So you get out of the car and head to him. 

There’s a small forest to pass through and a steep staircase to maneuver, but you manage. You look out to see Jimin already throwing stones and Jungkook standing by, reacting to every gliding pebble on the water. You spare a few seconds to admire him from the back, with his plain white shirt and light gray lounge pants, accentuating a figure that has you weak in the knees. His hands are in his pockets and his slightly long locks are in a half-bun, and he looks every bit of comfort in this place that holds so much of your years growing up.

You walk to where he is and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stills but he doesn’t say anything. You savor his natural scent and the way the tips of his hair tickle your face. You bask in the taut figure that somehow softens under your touch. Once you feel him relax a little, you tilt your head and whisper in his ear. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He remains quiet and unmoving. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves and Jimin’s cheering from some meters away.

“I just got caught up with work but I’m done with it. It wasn’t right of me to neglect you when I promised I was gonna take a break and spend time with you,” you continue.

Your voice is low and Jungkook could hear your pout. Just a little bit more and he’ll give in.

“You look so hot today and I just want to—”

“Yah!” He whines, finally returning your affection and caressing your arms that are now wrapped around him tightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, that caught your attention, huh?” You giggle, lightly kissing his neck.

He shivers at the act, and he laughs at himself for how whipped he is for you, giving in so quickly.

“You know it would,” he huffs, turning around to face you now.

You still have that pout and he just wants to kiss it off you.

“How was walking down the steep staircase?” He asks, knowing that was your only non-favorite thing about this place. 

“I tripped on a step but I’m fine,” you proudly smile now. 

“You should’ve called me,” he frowns now. 

“But you were upset with me!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you down the stairs and risk you tripping. You know how those steps are. And the pebbles can sometimes be slippery. You can trip here, too, and— what?”

“Nothing. You’re sexy when you’re worried about me,” you say nonchalantly.

“Ugh, come here,” he groans, pulling you in a hug, one that you fall into immediately. “I’ll always worry about you. And I’ll always help you, even if I’m upset.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry again. But I’ve laid off the report now. I told Mr. Soo I shall not be disturbed anymore for the rest of my leave.”

“Good,” Jungkook hums, pulling away to face you now. “Because I really want to know what you wanted to do.”

“Ah, many things, Jeon Jungkook,” you smirk. “But I’ll maybe settle for this first.”

You lean in and kiss him - deep enough to have him moan against your lips, and you suddenly can’t wait until you can do more.

“Oh, my eyes!” Jimin squeals, prompting you to look at him with his arm covering his face.

Jungkook only laughs but you scowl at your brother.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve seen worse.”

“And I’ve erased that image of my sister and my best friend swallowing each other’s faces from my mind. Please don’t remind me again,” he groans. “But anyway, are you tolerable again?”

“Yes,” you frown. “I think,” you mutter, turning to Jungkook.

“You’re alright,” he teases, before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “Now Jimin here wants to reassert his dominance as the stone-skipping king. You game for a match?”

“Do I have a choice?” You cock your eyebrow.

“No. So okay, same rules,” your brother announces. “Loser treats everyone to coffee and pastry. We all know it won’t be me.”

“Brat,” you say under your breath. 

But he’s not wrong. He dominates and Jungkook ends up losing. The wink he makes tells you he let you win. And though you like to play fair, you won’t lie and say his teasing smirk definitely turned you on.

You spend the rest of your morning enjoying iced coffee while overlooking the beach, then you head to your favorite seafood restaurant for lunch. You go to your usual market for ingredients for the week, including tonight’s dinner that your mother will be preparing. She wanted to cook for all of you before they flew out, she said, and that got you excited. 

It’s refreshing to walk through the streets and spots of your childhood and reminisce with your brother and boyfriend. The memories take on different forms this time, as Jungkook tells you things from his perspective. 

You remember that one time you scolded them for sneaking out on a school night and then picking them up at an alley with Jin driving you. Jungkook says he liked how caring and understanding you were then; you said you’d cover for them after flicking their foreheads. 

There’s that summer when you got your friends to buy from Jimin and Jungkook’s ice pop stand so they could buy these skateboards that neither of your parents wanted to get for them. Jungkook recalls how you complimented his recipe and told everyone he made them so that they’d praise him, too. 

There’s that winter when, after your brother’s begging, you had him and Jungkook join you and your friends’ bonfire night at one of your secret beach spots. Jungkook points out that you always made sure that as the youngest ones there, they were warm and well-fed. 

And then there were their sleepovers when you’d join them play video games and watch horror movies in the living room. Jungkook gushes at how pretty you looked and how you’d always prepare them popcorn and drinks. He outs you as the one who puts the blanket over him and Jimin when they fall asleep on the couch. 

“I tend to forget a lot of things but I remember when they’re about you,” he mumbles as he starts the drive to your house. “It’s just always stuck with me. Please don’t be weirded out.”

You giggle but assure him that you aren’t. You understand him - there are things and people and moments that naturally stick with you, and they’re the ones you hold dear, too. 

He was a kid with a crush and his attention was often on you, and you suppose that given how you’d felt comfortable around him then, it was also maybe natural that you’d feel the same way now that you’re both older. It just so happened that he ended up looking as attractive as he did, and that’s just an added bonus. 

Jungkook drops you and Jimin home before he drives three blocks away to his parents’ house. He’ll greet them first before heading to your place, he says, excited for your mom’s cooking that he always enjoyed. 

It’s been some time since you last saw them. They don’t always drive out to Seoul, only doing so to watch Jimin’s shows, and you haven’t had time to go home, either. Plus, you had an injured brother to take care of, and he’s also really the topic of every conversation you’ve had with them these past months. 

And there are no bad feelings there. He’s had injuries and illnesses that had them worried, and you’re pretty much as unproblematic and predictable as any eldest child could get. You think you’re that monotonous or unexciting, too, and you suppose that just meant they didn’t feel the need to check on you as much as they did with Jimin.

But you express your longing once they offer you their hugs. You say how you miss your mom’s cooking and your dad’s baking, which is code for saying that you’ve missed them, too. 

You get your stuff to your room and sigh in relief at the comfort it still gives you. Not much has changed between your double bed, your desk, your beanbag, and the large cork board of photos on your wall. You pin the Polaroids from earlier, deciding to keep the ones of you and Jungkook for your place back in Seoul. 

You huff this time, unsure how you’ll open the discussion of you dating your younger brother’s best friend to your parents. They’ve known him since he was a kid; they watched him get into all kinds of trouble with their son, and were there for his milestones, too. 

Jungkook was always Jimin’s partner-in-crime; they were two peas in a pod who went through everything together. Now it’s you and him and you don’t really know how they’ll take it. 

But you brush it off for now and think it’s a conversation for later, or maybe when they come back from their trip. You intended on telling them in person, which is why they’re still in the dark. It’s just a matter of how you’ll say it.

You head downstairs and take in the scent of seafood soft tofu stew. The two boys are already at the kitchen counter, munching on the rolled omelet that they shouldn’t even be having yet. But your mom lets them, as Jimin talks about his new agency and shows videos of him doing some choreographies.

You stand next to Jungkook, who sneakily feeds you. You don’t know why you get flustered at the act, even more when he whispers in your ear. 

“So, I finally get to see your room with your permission,” he cheekily smiles. “I promised Jimin a few rounds of Overwatch before going to you.”

You merely laugh and tell him that your dad’s asking him something.

“So, Jungkook. How has work been? Jimin tells us you’ve been getting more projects recently,” your old man asks. 

“Ah, yes, uncle,” he responds. “I’m getting more clients and exposure now. It took a while but it’s all going well.”

“That’s good. Although I always wondered why you never thought of joining a firm. Doesn’t that mean a more consistent client base? And better for you financially, too.”

“Well, I get to choose my clients and my projects as a freelancer,” Jungkook explains. “I control my time. And it allows me to take appointments at the tattoo parlor.”

“Oh, right, your hobby,” your dad nods. “I guess having multiple sources of income is the new trend these days.”

Jungkook just hums in agreement, already used to your dad’s frame of thought when it comes to a career. So are you, because it’s often the first thing he picks up on with your boyfriends. Each of your partners just happened to be working in corporate so there was never this line of questioning followed by an awkward silence. 

But Jungkook is just your brother’s best friend, as far as they know. You wonder how they’d react once you finally tell them the truth.

You don’t completely fault your dad, though. It’s less about judgment and more about practicality. He and your mom came from the generation that believed survival and security mattered more than passion. They always thought the latter could come later on in life, which is why they opened their own cafe not long ago, at a time when they were already pretty secure. You suppose it’s his way of looking out for you, which is why he’s always been concerned about your partner’s occupation.

The conversation changes, as the focus now turns to your parents and what they’ve been up to. You assist your mom in the kitchen while the men hang around, helping when they’re called upon. Jungkook stands near you, asking if you need him and attempting to feed you with a dumpling this time, but you manage to feed yourself and he merely looks at you in understanding.

Dinner is finally ready and you all head to the dining table. You take the seat next to your mom, across from Jungkook, and he looks at you curiously but you offer him an apologetic smile. You only told him that you’ll tell your parents about your relationship in person, which you planned on doing. 

That is, until your parents bring up your friends.

“Sweetie, Jin’s son is so adorable,” your mom chirps. “I saw the pictures on Facebook and the little one took after his father so much. I can imagine how happy he and his wife are.”

The topic of your dear friend and his family injects energy into you. You say how Jin’s been bragging about his mini-me but that the nursery you helped put together looks so beautiful. You were all there when his wife gave birth a few weeks ago and though you’re still unsure about having kids, you won’t deny how much it warmed your heart when Seo-yoon’s tiny fingers wrapped around your thumb. It’s not something you say though, as your mom eventually mentions Na-eun and her fiancé. 

“I read that he’s been promoted as Director of their company,” she says. 

Your dad pipes in that So-Hee’s new boyfriend is apparently the son of one of his former colleagues, and you’re quite frankly over the conversations about your friends’ partners. The insinuations aren’t lost on you.

“How do you even know these things?” You groan.

“Facebook,” your mom replies. “Of course I’m friends with all your friends. And it’s nice to know how well they’re doing since we don’t get to see them much anymore. You’ve reached that age of settling down, after all.”

“I guess,” you hum, no longer interested in the conversation. Jimin’s roll of his eyes tells you he feels the same. “Lots of good things are happening for them.”

You don’t mean to sound bitter and you aren’t. You adore your friends and genuinely love that things are looking out for them. You’re not the same person from months ago who felt lost and falling behind amongst them. Sure, things could be better career-wise, but you haven’t felt this much security in yourself and your relationship until Jungkook. Explaining why is a different thing altogether.

“What about you?” Your dad asks. “I know we’ve been calling every week to ask about your brother but we haven’t been checking in on you. I’m sorry, dear,” he continues, his eyes softening. “Is there anything new in your life?”

If the earlier conversations hadn’t happened, perhaps you’d willingly hint on the newest thing in your life, which is the relationship you have with the man currently looking at you with his doe-eyes in anticipation. 

But they did, and you know mentioning your friends’ partners was their way of subtly pressuring you about being with someone of similar stature. And you’re not really in the mood for that right now. 

So you end up doing the stupidest thing you possibly could, and that’s to lie. 

“Not really,” you say, hating the prolonged silence that follows. 

And as you look at Jungkook across from you, you see his face fall, and you hate even more that it’s because of you. 

Your lack of a follow-up prompts your parents to move on. They know that when you’re in the mood to talk, you will and when you’re quite passive, it means you aren’t. 

Your mom turns to Jungkook instead and asks him what else he’s up to other than his various jobs and looking after Jimin. He looks at you before his gaze shifts towards them.

“Not much else, auntie,” he replies. 

The crack of your heart knows you completely messed up, because if it stings like this, then you know it hurt him even more.

“Oh, is there no one special in your life?” She asks, as she often does. Given that she treats Jungkook as part of the family, she’s lost all filter when it comes to him, too. “I recently met with my friend and her daughter. She’s such a lovely young woman, Kook, she’s brilliant and oh so charming. She’s in Busan for the week, too. Do you want to—”

“Is it time for dessert?” Jimin butts in, not wanting this conversation to continue. 

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t know how to turn your mother down, and if he even slightly entertains the idea to appease her, you’d be the one upset, even if you technically put this upon yourself. Jimin already sees you a bit uncomfortable, and if there’s anything he can do to not make this worse for you and his best friend, it’s to be a brat. 

“Oh, yes. Your father made an apple pie and some ice cream,” she says. “Let me—”

“I’ll get it,” you offer, standing up from your seat now.

You don’t want to know what your mom’s other propositions would be. You’re sure she’ll find some person’s son to match you with, given that she’s done that a few times after your breakup with Namjoon. You’re also not ready for Jungkook to agree with her about meeting someone, even if you know he won’t mean it.

Which is really stupid because if you’d just told them the truth, then you’ll be having a completely different conversation, although you’re unsure if you’re ready for that one, too. But at least Jungkook wouldn’t look as upset as he does right now, as he’s resorted to picking on his food instead of finishing it, which tells you that he’s lost his appetite and that’s never a good thing. 

You go to the kitchen to slice the pie and scoop the ice cream. You do it so slowly to lengthen the time before you’re back there, only because you don’t want to know what else they’re talking about. 

You’re in the middle of cursing yourself when you feel the sting of a tiny pinch on your arm, and you yelp in pain and smack your brother’s chest in reflex.

“Ow!” You yell, frowning at the man before you and ignoring your mother’s order to “behave,” even if they’re used to you two quarreling. 

“You deserve that,” Jimin scowls at you. “Because what the fuck was that?!”

“I know,” you sigh, glancing at Jungkook who’s trying his best to be interested in what your parents are saying. “I… froze. You know what they wanted to hear, Chim. All those things about my friends’ boyfriends and what they do? I just didn’t want them to compare them to what Jungkook does if I tell them.”

“Why, what’s wrong with what he does?” Your brother raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. It’s just… you know how focused they are on career stability and shit like that,” you try to explain. “You heard what dad was telling him earlier. I just didn’t want Jungkook to hear any underhanded comments from them and then feel bad about it.”

“And you think denying that you’re dating is any better?” He chides. “That’s literally worse!”

“I—”

“Jungkook knows how our parents are. And after you got together, he already anticipated that they’d question how he’ll be able to sustain your life together once you told them about your relationship,” Jimin explains. “He was ready for it. I doubt he anticipated this…”

You stand there, the crack in your heart getting deeper and bigger as the seconds pass. You hadn’t realized that Jungkook was already confiding in Jimin about any concerns he’d have about facing your parents. You suppose he would, given that you said you’d tell them when you saw them the one time that Jungkook asked if they knew, and you didn’t raise it again after. Living in your bubble together seemed more important, and you’d forgotten to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Chim, I fucked up,” you pout. 

If it were about anything else, Jimin would push it. It’s how you always were, and you’ve reached that point  in your relationship where you could call each other out and know it comes from a good place. But he doesn’t want to do this today, not when you’re already sad and guilty and he doesn’t want you to feel worse. He doesn’t want to take sides, even if he’ll admit that you were in the wrong, but he doesn’t want to antagonize you either.

“Hey,” he nudges your arm. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re both gonna figure it out. I don’t know how hard he’ll take this but he’s a really soft-hearted person, so just… keep that in mind, okay?”

You nod, wanting to believe that you’ll be able to fix it. 

“And don’t hate yourself too much,” your brother adds. “He’s really, really into you. I just know he won’t be able to resist you.”

You nod again but you think that just makes it worse. You doubt he expected that out of all the people to disappoint him, it would be you. Yet here you are. 

You and Jimin return to the table with the plated desserts. You hand one to Jungkook but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t meet your eyes either when it’s all you try to do. He peacefully eats his apple pie while you feign interest at your parents talking about their recent weekend at a spa. 

When everyone’s done, he helps Jimin clean up. It’s how you know that Jungkook’s considered part of the family, as your parents don’t stop him from doing so, unlike when it comes to other guests or your friends. 

You watch helplessly as he washes the dishes, turning down your offer to help. You take the rest of the plates and walk towards him instead, standing close so you could place them in the sink. He just moves his arms to give you space then returns to his task, not sparing you a glance. 

You stay with your parents in the dining area to talk about their trip. They leave you with important documents and give you instructions should anything bad happen to them while they’re away, as they always do whenever they go on a trip. Everything is your responsibility as the eldest, they remind you. 

They finally go to their room to continue packing and you sit on the corner of the couch where Jimin and Jungkook have just finished watching some video of a guy reacting to other videos. You constantly glance at your boyfriend but he seems to be intent on not giving you attention because he’s not like this - he always wants to be close to you, needing his hand to be touching your arm or your thigh or even your hair, and his pretty eyes locked on you. But not tonight.

You recall how months ago, you avoided him because of what you started to feel. And perhaps this is how he felt then - helpless, unsure, and desperate for you to be next to him again. 

You find the tiniest bit of courage and call out his name, hoping he’d at least turn to you this time. 

“Kook, I’m—”

“Hey, we should probably play now so we finish early,” Jungkook nudges Jimin’s knee. “It’s been a long day; I don’t really want to stay up late.”

Your brother looks at you in apology as he responds to the man on his left in agreement. They both head up, leaving you rooted in your seat, wishing that Jungkook would turn around to tell you that he doesn’t mean creating this distance, but he doesn’t. 

And you wouldn’t blame him. You’d stay away from you, too.

You end up watching Aliens on your own, crouched on your corner of the couch with the large blanket over you. You give up after an hour, once the movie starts getting intense and scary though. There’s no Jungkook to hold you during the jumpscares, or to tease you about your screaming, or to assure you that he’ll protect you from all types of monsters. 

There’s no Jungkook next to you but you want him there, and it’s another half hour later when you decide that you’re not going to bed without speaking to him. 

You hate sleeping sad and upset. You don’t like ending the day not being on good terms with him. There are so many things you want to tell him but more than anything, you just want to hold him close. He always said he liked that, because even during the times when there’s so much to say or feel, falling into each other’s arms is the easiest thing to do. It says enough. It shows enough. And you’ve both survived misunderstandings and stressful moments by holding each other, and then holding each other closer.

Walking up the stairs and towards Jimin’s room, the nerves kick in. Jungkook has been ignoring you the whole evening and you’re unsure if he’s willing to hear you out. 

But you try, as you knock on the door, your heart beating fast when it slowly opens. Your brother’s downcast eyes meet you and you don’t need to say anything else. 

He opens the door wider then turns to the man lying on a mattress on the floor.

“Kook, my sister’s looking for you.”

You glance at him, dressed in that black tank top that always made you breathless, but once again, he avoids your gaze. But he does stand up after a nudge on the foot from your brother and walks over to you.

“Can we, uh…” you gesture towards the room just across the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t shut you out, which is a good thing. You take it as your cue to start walking and you hear his footsteps right behind you. 

You let him in then close the door behind him. There’s so much you want to say, like you’re sorry and that you were stupid, that you didn’t mean to deny him but that you didn’t know how to tell your parents, or what you were even nervous about. You want to say that you just want to spend tonight wrapped up in his arms and apologizing in all the ways that you can.

But instead of uttering the words, your throat dries up. Seeing him standing there with that upset and disinterested look on his face breaks you a little. So you reach out, your hands pressing gently on his chest to try to feel him, to be close to him, hopefully to hold him and make your mistake go away. 

“Kook, I…” you tremble, trying so hard to find the words.

Jungkook looks back at you, your face nervous and unsure, unlike his that’s probably still painted with disappointment. 

He still doesn’t know what to make of your denial. He’s been trying to see things from your point of view all evening, but doing so only in his head because verbalizing them, especially to his best friend, makes it sting a bit more. Maybe Jimin can explain on your behalf but that would just confirm to Jungkook one of two things - that you don’t really intend on telling your parents about both of you for whatever reason he can’t comprehend, or you don’t think he measures up to their expectations and for that, you might just think he’s not good enough for you. 

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so he shuts Jimin down when he asks. They watched videos earlier to have something to laugh about but he was faking it. He suggested playing a game just so he wouldn’t respond to you calling him earlier but all they’ve done since going to the room is lie in silence. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk about it with his best friend. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with you. He doesn’t want an explanation right now. It’s not what he wants to hear. 

And it seems as if it’s something you’re even struggling to give him, as you stand there quivering, your hands slowly trying to pull him closer to you. 

It’s what you usually do when you can’t find the words to express something - when you’re stressed and frustrated, when you want to patch things up after a small misunderstanding, when you want his comfort. And he always loved it when you did. He always willingly gave you that hug and that kiss and those whispers of “it’s okay” and “we’re okay” and “I’m just here.” 

But not tonight, not when there’s this unnamed thing that’s eating him inside, and not even you can fix it. 

“I don’t… I don’t really wanna do this right now,” he mutters, taking your hands to slowly slide them off him. 

The look of hurt in your eyes is one that’ll probably haunt him for a while, but he’ll learn to deal with that. It’s better than talking with you about something that you don’t even know how to express. 

This isn’t like him. It’s not like him to be upset at you like this, to not want to comfort you, to not want to be around you. This messes him up, too, and all he can do is step away and walk out.

He doesn’t really wanna be here, he thinks to himself as he enters the room just across, to the surprise of Jimin who half expected both of you to have made up. Jungkook would go home if he only brought his keys and it wasn’t too late to ask his parents to open the door for him.

But his best friend’s floor mattress will do for now. And so Jungkook puts on his earpods and plays whatever music is loud enough to shut out the thought of you until he falls asleep. 

In the other room, you lay in your bed in complete silence. You don’t want to cry, only because he’s not there to wipe your tears away. And you don’t ever want to know what that’s like, so you don’t. You keep the tears at bay and force yourself to drift away. 

You jerk awake the next morning to your mother knocking on your door. You promised to do errands with her today, so you get off the bed and yell out that you’ll just fix up.

“No rush, dear. I’m still having breakfast with your father. You can join us when you’re ready.”

You head down and eat the pastries that they brought from the cafe. You don’t have much appetite and these will suffice, but your mind goes to Jungkook and how he was craving kimchi fried rice and spam yesterday. 

So that’s what you make for him and Jimin. You even prepare iced coffee the way they like it. You’re about to set the dish aside for them to heat up when you hear rushed footsteps down the stairs and you know they’ve woken up.

“Wahhh, it smells so good,” Jimin exclaims as he walks over to the counter while his best friend sits on the table. “Did you make something, dad?”

“Oh, your sister cooked for you and Jungkook,” your father hums. “It’s making me hungry now.”

“There’s still some in here if you want,” you call out, with him responding that he’ll get some later.

You serve the dish in two bowls. You hand one to Jimin and then place the other in front of Jungkook without sparing him a glance. 

“Iced coffee is in the refrigerator,” you tell them. 

You hear Jimin’s little squeal before he gets them. “Where you off to?” He asks.

“I’m running errands with mom.”

“Make sure you two make it in time for dinner, okay?” Your father says.

“Of course. I can’t miss your steak, dad,” you give him a small smile. 

“Good. I prepared meat good enough for five Actually, six. I count Jungkook as two people,” he laughs. 

The thought of this comfort and familiarity hurts you because you’re the one who made Jungkook think otherwise. You see him smile at your father’s remark but you turn away when he looks your way. You know he’s still upset and you don’t want to force it if he’s not yet ready to speak with you. You also haven’t gotten over the way he pulled away from you last night, and so looking at him today is a little difficult.

“You’re still joining us at the party, right?” Jimin asks. 

Their friend, Hari, whom you know briefly dated Jungkook in high school, is celebrating her birthday tonight. Their group always looked to you as the cool sister so you’re always invited to whatever they’ve got going, and while the three of you talked about attending later, after what you did, you doubt Jungkook would want you to spoil his evening. You’re also not exactly in the partying mood for obvious reasons.

“I’ll pass, Chim,” you respond. “You guys should have a best friend night.”

You go back to your room to fix up before joining your mother to head out. 

Back in the dining room, Jimin nudges Jungkook’s knee.

“She’s still playing favorites,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he gestures to the generous amount of spam in his best friend’s bowl compared to his decent serving. 

Jungkook just hums, guilt forming that he didn’t even thank you for this because he really has been craving it. Before any of them could say anything more, your father speaks up.

“Your sister okay, son?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t she be?” Jimin nervously answers.

“She just doesn’t seem like herself, that’s all,” your old man replies.

“Maybe it’s work. It’s been tough lately,” your brother reasons. 

“But she’s more tired and frustrated when it comes to work but that’s not what she is. Maybe it’s a guy.”

At this, Jungkook chokes on his food, and he’s glad your father doesn’t react.

“What makes you think so?” Jimin asks, his eyes flitting to his best friend.

“Hmm, it just seems different,” your father insists. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end. She hasn’t introduced anyone since Namjoon. And I wish she would, just so we know she’s moved on, you know? And that the breakup isn’t still hurting her.”

“She has, and it doesn’t affect her anymore,” Jimin confirms, certain of at least that bit.

“Then why hasn’t she introduced anyone yet?”

“Maybe it’s because you really liked Namjoon, and he seems to be your standard so ___ is just probably just taking her time.”

“Well it’s because he’s smart and stable and very self-assured and—”

“Also very much married. And a soon-to-be father,” Jimin interjects, already being protective of you. 

He wonders now if this is how your parents talk about him to you, and that you’ve always just protected him from all of it.

“Oh,” your father sighs. “It could’ve been her.”

“But it isn’t and that’s totally fine,” Jimin exclaims. “She’s young and she’s got time. And who knows, maybe that’s not the life she wants, or at least not yet? If you could accept my version of happiness, you should be able to accept hers, too. And what does ‘stable’ even mean?”

“Someone with ambition, with a direction,” your old man explains. “Someone who’s secure and financially capable of sustaining this good life that your mom and I gave you both.”

“Those are all the things she is, too, you know?” Jimin frowns. “And also, I love you, dad, but you’re old. By that I mean your thinking is old. It’s outdated. You think stability is about prestige and money and I get that but… that’s not everything. There are other things that matter to her and if you lessened the pressure a bit, you’d see that. She’s your daughter, don’t you want her to be happy? To be loved?”

“Of course I do,” your father sighs. 

“Well then don’t let your version of what a good partner is dictate her life,” Jimin advises. “She’s a grown up, she knows what she wants and how to get it. But she’s also your daughter who doesn’t want to worry or disappoint you. What if she’s found someone who makes her happy and treats her right but she’s nervous of what you’d think because of all these expectations you have of her?”

Jimin’s eyes flit to his best friend again who’s quietly munching on his food but is clearly taking in this exchange. While Jimin still thinks you were wrong to deny your relationship, he at least hopes that Jungkook could understand what was going through your mind and it was all this. 

“Well if she has then I’d want to meet him,” your father insists. 

“And maybe you will, once she stops feeling the pressure of what she’s supposed to be for you and who she’s supposed to date,” Jimin explains. 

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, dad,” Jimin groans. “I lived with her for months and she just… she worries about a lot of things. It would be nice if she doesn’t worry about this. So please, stop with all the projections and underhanded remarks, okay? She sees right through you. Just let her live her life.”

A smile forms on your father’s face. It was never his intention to put all that pressure on you but he supposes you just accepted that it comes with the territory. But he realizes it shouldn’t be. His son’s right - he’s old. He and your mother worked hard so that you and your brother could have a life where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but he supposes the intention got muddled along the way. At least you and Jimin have each other.

“I know you and your sister don’t like to admit it but it’s really touching to see how similar you both are,” your father says.

“Excuse me, I’m cooler and funnier and definitely more talented,” Jimin pouts. 

“Maybe,” your old man laughs. “But she’s sat on that same chair, lecturing me and your mom about letting you live your life and now you’re doing the same. She’s your biggest advocate and your biggest protector. It’s just nice to see how you’re the same for her.”

Running errands with your mother has always been your responsibility, but it’s once you’ve hit your late-twenties mark that you’ve come to appreciate it. 

You learn a lot about the practical stuff like insurance and emergency funds and inheritance when you accompany her to the bank. You’re also reminded that sometimes you have to spend more to make things last when she drops off her clothes at the laundry service and picks up the bag and shoes she had professionally cleaned. You also remember the important things like buying flowers and leaving them on your grandparents’ graves. 

You’ve just left the shopping center after she bought your father an anniversary gift, and her excitement over the satchel and perfume she got him has you smiling. You wonder how differently she feels for him 30 years later, and if this life they have together is everything she imagined it to be.

“Was it hard at the beginning? Being married to dad?” You ask. 

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Because it’s how marriages typically go. Your father and I were together for two years before we got married and it was a big change. You just… learn to consider another person, and you get used to someone always being around you.”

“It’s a good thing you can stand each other then,” you chuckle. 

“That’s true,” she laughs back. “You’d be surprised to know how many married couples can’t. But we just always managed. And we had to be on each other’s side, you know? It’s the reason why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

She looks quite emotional as she says the words and it’s probably because of what they’ll be celebrating soon but she turns to you with a smile.

“Your father’s parents wanted me to become a housewife, a stay-at-home mom who just ran the household,” she continues. “But I wanted to work so I could help my parents, and your father stood by my decision. He saw how working gave him financial freedom and he wanted that for me, too. And we just… worked hard. We fought a lot at the start because we were building our careers and raising a family but we knew it would all be worth it, as long as we stood by each other.”

“Then I suppose that’s what’s important in a partner, isn’t it?” You say. “Being dependable, being supportive, not… not what kind of career they have.”

“Well, a stable career helps,” she points out. “I mean, it’s how your father and I got to afford sending you and your brother to good schools. It’s how we could afford trips as a family and how your father and I can be secure at this age without needing much help from our children.”

“But that’s also because you worked hard, plain and simple. And you and dad had each other and overcame whatever challenges you faced together. You can’t say the same for all married couples,” you push. 

“That’s true. I mean, it wasn’t like this during our parents’ time. I guess people had less options then. The world’s changed so much, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you hum. “Not everyone cares much about their partner’s upward mobility and stuff like that. They want to savor the good life their parents gave them. And because they work hard, too, they just want someone to enjoy it with them. You know, like me.”

There’s a beat of silence as your mother processes your words. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out with Namjoon?” She asks, reminding you that you’d only given them a general reason as to why things ended.

“We spent too much time planning for our future that we kinda lost our way,” you explain. “I guess that’s when I realized that I wanted someone to enjoy the moments with, regardless of what they do for a living. And we’ll never know what life will throw our way and I need someone who’ll stand by me, the way I’ll stand by them. You know, cheesy things like that.”

You smile to yourself as you think about Jungkook and his shameless affection that he shows in so many ways. You enjoy the cheesiness but you’ll deny it first before admitting it. But then again, he probably knows already. He pays attention to you after all. 

“Well, I suppose that’s why we wanted to give you and your brother a good and secure life, so that you can enjoy it,” your mother hums.

“Exactly. You raised us well, mom. We’re not gonna throw our lives away, however we choose to live it, and with whom,” you assure her. 

She gives you a warm smile. She takes your hand at the stoplight and caresses it. Perhaps it’s the assurance you need, too.

You return home to your father preparing the meat for tonight’s dinner. There’s a platter of steak, vegetables, and sausages that he’s seasoning to grill, and you can imagine how happy this is gonna make Jungkook. He always liked it when your dad prepared dishes like this paired with your mom’s spicy chicken soup, and you wish you could enjoy it together. 

But you’re giving him space to feel what he feels and you’re doing the same, even if all you want to do is apologize. You haven’t had an issue quite like this, so things are a little unfamiliar to you. You tried to talk to him last night but he wasn’t ready, and you’re unsure when he will be. 

You head towards the counter and cut up the vegetables for the soup before slicing the fruits. You’re focused on your task, knowing how sharp the knives are, but it’s at the same time that your brother and Jungkook arrive. Seeing your boyfriend look as good as he does in that denim jacket-over tank top fit is so sinful; it’s a crime you’re not talking that it distracts you, and it’s what causes you to slice through your finger and yelp in pain.

“Did you hurt yourself, dear?” Your mom asks as she stirs the pot. 

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand under running water.

You’re about to ask Jimin to get the First Aid kit from the drawer but Jungkook gets to it first, knowing where it is. 

He knows that your brother, who’s terrified of blood, won’t help you, and despite your situation, Jungkook can’t stand not helping. So he lathers an antiseptic once the bleeding has stopped, then he wraps a band-aid around it. Just like him, you focus your gaze on your finger. Or maybe you’re stuck on the way he tends to you. Or the fact that this is the most physical touch you’ve done this past day when you normally can’t take your hands off each other. 

He sighs to himself. If he wasn’t so hung up on his hurt feelings, he’d be able to tend to you better. This might not even have happened if he’d just spoken to you last night. 

But he shakes the thought away. He’s still upset. But he’ll always want to take care of you; that’s the one thing that won’t ever change.

“Thank you,” you mumble, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do this,” he says, waiting for you to step aside before he takes your place. 

“Jungkook dear, do you mind helping me with the glazed potatoes after you finish that?” She asks.

“Sure thing, auntie,” he replies. 

You watch him work around the kitchen the way he’s done so many times before, and your heart stings at the sight because you want to be doing this with him, with your parents, in your family kitchen. But it’s not like you could talk to him right now, not when you don’t know how to say what you want to say. So you head outside to where your dad is grilling the meat and help him instead. 

It’s not long after when dinner is ready, and you’re seated across Jungkook again. It’s a little tense when you look at him when he looks away, but Jimin thankfully finds a way to keep the conversation light and focused on him.

Your parents insist that both men don’t need to help clean up, and Jimin asks you if you’re really not going.

“Yeah I’ll just… stay home, make sure mom and dad are packed well and just get everything in order for tomorrow,” you say, half lying. 

“Gee, you make me look like a useless child,” Jimin pouts.

“You’re alright,” you hum. “You can drive them to the airport tomorrow.”

“But mom asked Jungkook to do that.”

“Well then you could just… make them a card or something,” you shrug. 

Your brother sticks his tongue at you and you do the same. 

“Fine, we’ll head out,” he announces.

“You guys have fun,” you say softly, glancing at Jungkook before walking towards the sink to do your duty. 

You turn to your brother. “Call me if you need me to pick you up. No driving drunk, okay?”

He salutes you in response then heads out after Jungkook.

It’s uneventful after that. You help your parents with last minute packing then have a long shower. You lie on your bed and mindlessly watch some movie on your laptop hoping that you’ll fall asleep soon, and that when you wake up, you’ll find the strength to go to Jungkook and tell him that you’re sorry and that you don’t want to go another day without him. 

“Hey, Jungkook. Dance with me.”

Jungkook looks up to find Hari and gives the same answer he’s given the last two times.

“Sorry, I’m injured,” he says. 

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe him and he can’t blame her; he doesn’t exactly know how to act like it.

“Oh, Jimin. There you are,” she chirps as the said man approaches the table. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry, I'm injured.”

“Great. It’s my birthday and I spot two hot guys in this party without girls around them and they’re fake injured,” she scowls. “What’s up with you two?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m babysitting,” Jimin says, gesturing at his friend. “But Mingyu and Eunwoo are right there. Go tell them to dance with you.”

“Fine. I’ll get in line then,” she rolls her eyes then walks away.

“How come no one believes me when I say I’m injured?” Jungkook asks as he munches on the fried chicken wings his best friend got.

“Because you’re a terrible actor. People believe me because I’m believable,” Jimin hums.

“They believe you because you posted all over social media that you hurt your ankle,” Jungkook corrects. 

“Yeah but that was like, half a year ago.”

“Why are you even pretending you’re injured? You don’t have to stay with me, you know? Go to the dance floor and have fun. That’s your thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m also not in the mood because my best friend’s sulking,” Jimin frowns. 

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“You know my sister’s sorry, right?”

“She’s ashamed, that’s what she is. And I’m just supposed to live with that.”

Jimin sighs as he watches his best friend mindlessly stare out onto the dance floor. Jungkook’s probably trying to rid himself of the image of both of you dancing and kissing and having fun if you were here. He could be making sense of what he feels, or his mind could also just be completely blank right now.

But what Jimin knows is that another glass of whiskey is something that Jungkook shouldn’t be having, so he stops his best friend from ordering another one.

“You might get drunk and then you’ll call or go see her and then you’ll say things you’ll regret and then you’ll hurt her and you’ll get even more hurt and you’ll have a harder time fixing things and then it just won’t stop and you’ll feel stupid because you’re not talking over something you could easily fix,” Jimin heaves. 

It’s a lot to process but Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right. He’ll just get too emotional and won’t be able to control himself and despite what he feels, hurting you is the last thing he wants.

So he orders water instead, finishes it, then heads for the door.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he says. “I need to get some air.”

They end up at a park, the one that you used to hang at with your friends in high school. Jungkook knows because he always accompanied Jimin there when you’d tell him where to meet you. It’s peaceful at this time of night and much more beautiful, too. It’s no surprise he keeps thinking that you’re right next to him, with your head on his chest and laughing at his jokes. 

“Why is this affecting me so much?” He wonders out loud. “Why am I so hurt and so stubborn?”

“Because she said something she shouldn’t have. But also because you put her on a pedestal,” Jimin answers. “She made a mistake, and you’re free to fault her for it. I mean, anytime someone we care about hurts us, it sucks like hell. But you also have to think that maybe it’s affecting you as much as it does because she’s always been faultless in your eyes and she isn’t.”

The reality is a slap on the face, but one that Jungkook thinks he needs to have. You were everything he ever wanted and these past three months have been a bliss. But now that reality hits and you have to face the pressure that’s part of your life, your humanness is showing. And that’s what he’s always liked about you, isn’t it? The imperfections and the flaws? Now that those are affecting him, it’s affecting him hard, and he’s having a hard time getting over it.

“Maybe once you accept that she’s human and not just the dream you’ve had since forever, then you’ll realize that things like that happen but she never means to hurt you,” Jimin adds. “You can’t think that she does. You learn to work it out by facing it, Kook. You have to talk about it. You have to tell her it hurts and you have to listen to what she says, and then you forgive. That’s kind of how grownup relationships go.”

“Guess I’ve never had one before, huh?”

“Maybe they just didn’t mean enough to hurt you.”

“This means everything, then,” Jungkook sighs, as things get clearer in his mind. “Because I think what hurts more now is not being next to her.”

“Great! Then can both of you patch things up now?” Jimin beams, feeling hopeful. “I hate seeing both of you sad and so stupid. Plus, my parents are leaving tomorrow and you won’t have a buffer anymore. So please just talk.”

Jungkook admits feeling touched. He knows at the end of the day, Jimin cares about him and you more than anyone, and he probably misses being around both of you at the same time. Jungkook does, too, but he misses you the most and it’s only been a day.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell her and it’s late. She might be asleep and—”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” Jimin crosses his arms.

“Well, what if I expect her to be the one to talk to me?”

“She tried but you didn’t want to, remember?”

“That was last night. The wound was still fresh,” Jungkook pouts. 

“Oh god. I feel like I’m dealing with children,” Jimin groans.

“Imagine how we felt taking care of you,” Jungkook answers back.

“At least I was just one person,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 

“Your dramatics were equivalent to two people though.”

Both men bicker as they walk back to the car. It started to drizzle so they decided to go back to their respective homes. Jungkook could stay over at your place and maybe talk to you if he really wants to but he’s seriously just chickening out over it. 

He’s never had to make up with you because none of your previous arguments ever led to you not talking to each other, or him pushing you away. He’s never had to spend a day ignoring you. And now, there’s so much to say and so much to feel but he doesn’t know how to approach it. He’ll need tonight to sort himself out and then he’ll speak to you, maybe after he drives your parents to the airport. Or maybe on the way back. 

He drops Jimin off; 30 seconds later, he’s home, too. You’re so close but so far away just like you used to be. But at least this time he knows that when the next day comes, he’ll have a chance to just pull you close and tell you he doesn’t want to be like this ever again.

There’s an incessant knocking on your door, and as you’re about to yell out that you’re asleep, you realize it might be Jungkook. You sit up on your bed and when the door opens and you see your brother instead, your face falls.

“It’s just me, unfortunately,” he says. “Kook’s back at his place.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Why are you home so early? It’s like, 11.”

“Because after the third girl, his fake injury excuse wore off and people just didn’t believe him. We looked like losers sitting on the table eating chicken,” Jimin chuckles. “So we left after an hour then went to a park and I knocked some sense into him and now he’s not so upset anymore. And I’m here to knock some sense into you, too.”

“I already know I made a mistake, Chim. I’m… I’m so fucking stupid. I just… don’t want him to think that I’m ashamed of him or that I don’t think he’s enough or any of that. I mean I’m—”

“Crazy about him, right?”

“I kinda am,” you smile softly.

“Good, because so is he and he’s hoping you’d go talk to him even if he says he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t waste time anymore and—”

You’re bolting off your bed and putting on your hoodie before your brother could finish his sentence. 

“If mom and dad look for me, tell them I—”

“Got attacked by a clown in the sewer.”

You look at him incredulously then realize you’re wearing yellow then you frown. 

“Just make up some excuse. I’ll… hopefully be back in the morning,” you say.

“Alright. It’s drizzling though so—”

And just like that, you’re gone.

It takes all but 10 seconds for the rain to pour, and your hoodie and sweatpants are no match for it. You groan at your brother for underselling the weather but then again, you also should be thanking him for telling you what you needed to hear - that Jungkook’s not so upset anymore and that he’s hoping you’d speak to him. 

Much as you think you would’ve taken any chance today to patch things up, you also would’ve frozen in front of him. You suppose you needed to know he was ready for you, and if he wouldn’t tell you, then of course, Jimin would. You just really wish he had the foresight to know it would rain this hard but you’re probably asking for too much. 

But Jungkook’s place is just a few blocks from yours so you power through. When you get there, you realize that you forgot your phone, so you make the stupid decision of climbing over the short fence and then hitting your cut finger in the process. 

You have no time to feel pain though, as the next order of business is getting Jungkook’s attention. But before you can execute your plan of throwing rocks on his window, the front door opens, and you telepathically thank your brother who probably called your boyfriend to alert him that you’ll be arriving at his place wet from the rain.

“___, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks with worry painted on his face. 

“I just… I needed to come and see you,” you manage to answer.

His face softens and you feel the hope bloom in your chest. He pulls you inside by the wrist and instructs you to quietly go up the stairs. You’re at least not drenched but you still got wet, so he leads you to the bathroom to wash up. He tells you to wait as he gets you something to change in, and he returns after half a minute with a towel and a large shirt.

“Cream and band-aid, for your wound,” he says, placing them on the counter. “My room’s the second door to the right, in case you forgot.”

You take him in, in his black tank top and shorts, his tongue playing with his lip ring the way he always does when he’s nervous. You manage to nod before he heads out, and you take a quick shower and then pull his oversized shirt over you. 

You quietly walk to his room, knocking on the door first before opening it slowly. It’s a bit dim but seeing him is all you need. After placing your clothes on the nearby chair, you look at him again. 

He looks tired and worried. He also looks like he has so much to say but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes but there’s longing, too, and you suppose he’s mirroring how you look. You feel a lot. You also want to say a lot, but you don’t know where or how to start. 

So you do the one thing you know often works. You approach him then wrap your arms around his torso. You fall into his embrace as quickly as he falls into yours, as he seems to have the same idea. You hold him tighter and pull him closer. You flush your cheeks on his chest while he buries his face on your neck. You grip his top and he does the same with yours. Your heart beats fast in longing and you feel his own do the same, too. 

There’s so much to feel and say but this is all you can do. And right now, it’s quite enough. 

You loosen your grip, but only so you could nuzzle his neck while your arms wrap around them. He feels so warm and he smells so delicate and he’s all you need.

“You knew I was coming?” You ask, turning to him

“Jimin said you were on your way without an umbrella and your phone,” Jungkook chuckles. But his face softens as he wipes the lone tear that falls down your cheek. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a typhoon or anything.”

“I had to get to you,” you mumble. 

“He also told me he wasn’t subtle in telling you to come here.”

“Well, he did say you wanted me to talk to you. And I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear me out and I was… giving you space.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know what to do with that space without you there,” he sighs, his eyes shy and absolutely adorable.

“Neither do I,” you smile. “So, uh. Will you invite me to your bed, maybe fill that space and more?”

“Of course,” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you there. 

You get under the covers and once he lies next to you, you scoot closer, hugging him again until you’re laying on top of him. But he doesn’t complain. He just hugs you back tightly, pulling you closer until he’s able to bask in your scent and the warm feel of you.

But despite the relief, you know you actually have to do the talking. You pull away and lay on your side. You take in his beauty and his softness and the way they make you feel like all is right again in the world. Your fingers trace his face, from his nose to his cheek to his lips, and he does the boyfriend thing of kissing your hand - including your cut finger - before wrapping it around his waist. He looks like he’s anticipating your words, too, so you try and hope they’re enough.

“Kook, I’m so sorry,” you start. “I… I have no excuse. I was being selfish and cowardly because I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I didn’t want to deal with what they’ll say about your job, knowing how they are and what they value and I just…”

“That’s for me to deal with though,” he says. “Because I chose this. And I’ve always known how they are but I still chose you.”

“It’s for us to deal with, and I did it so terribly,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ashamed of you and what you do. That freedom, the ability to create… they’re things they don’t really understand. And I thought I knew how to make them. I just ended up denying us and that was so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I… I get it,” he responds, caressing your cheek now. “They worked so hard to give you this life and of course they want to make sure you’re taken care of. And for them, they only know of one way that could happen. I’d be naive to think they’ll just accept that the man who’s crazy about their daughter isn’t some corporate dude with secure employment and upward mobility in his career.”

He doesn’t miss your shy smile and the way you nibble your lip and that just triggers the butterflies in his belly. 

“But that’s for me to show them that I can take care of you, and not because you can’t do it yourself but because I want to,” he adds. “I… I wanna be that person who makes things better and easier for you and who makes you happy.”

And who makes you feel loved, he doesn’t say. That’s a conversation for another day, he thinks.

“You do,” you assure him. “And I feel it everyday. You’re good at that, and I don’t tell you enough.”

“I know now,” he smiles, leaning closer to kiss you softly. 

You return it but pull away. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, falling into the kiss that he gives again.

“Okay. I don’t wanna hurt you like that ever again.”

Your pouty face tugs his heart and he wants to tell you that none of that matters now because you’re back in each other’s arms, and that’ll always be enough for him. 

He just hums as he goes for another kiss that’s deeper this time. And when you let him push you to lay on your back as you moan against his lips, his heart soars even more. He’s missed you, and it’s definitely going to be a long night.

He hovers over you now, and he shivers when your fingers graze his neck and then his chest. You open your legs to meet his hips, and the feel of your clothed cunt against him has his brain short-circuiting. He gets in the rhythm of grinding against you while he kisses your lips then your jaw then your neck, his hand now sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast.

It’s when he sucks on that sensitive part near your ear that you yelp in pleasure, and he immediately covers your mouth with his hand while he giggles.

“Gotta keep it down babe,” he whispers. “My parents are in the other room.”

But he doesn’t stop his kissing and you don’t really want him to.

“It’s not like you’re making it any easier,” you moan as he pinches your pert nipple.

“I’m not and I won’t, but you gotta try,” he smirks before his lips trail downward.

You’re unable to say anything once his tongue swirls around your buds. His hands wrap around your breasts that he praises, that he kisses and licks before slowly letting them go to hold onto your waist this time. He presses open-mouth kisses down your torso, his lips in tandem with your underwear that’s teasingly being removed off of you. 

You hear him let out a breathy moan as he spreads your legs wider. 

And while you know that this tender-hearted man has a cheeky streak in him, you didn’t expect for him to have his finger against his lips to shush you, knowing what he’s about to do. His smug face turns you on even more, and your breath is caught in your throat once you feel his tongue flat against your flesh, warming it up before the tip of his wet muscle swirls around your nub.

But you go along with his request, biting back your moan, even as your pussy chases his mouth for more. 

And it’s what he gives, as he dives in and sucks and bites your clit while his two fingers explore your hole. The cold of his lip ring is a contrast to how hot you feel, and it’s a sensation you can never get enough of. You whimper in silence but you manage to look at him, his eyes closed as he buries his face in your cunt. 

“Look at me,” you whisper and he follows, his gaze meeting yours. “Fuu-uuck, Kook. You feel so good,” your voice quivers.

His mouth’s full but yours is hanging open. You cover yours with your free hand while the other pulls on his long locks. He’s enjoying this so much, you can tell with the way he squeezes your thighs and moans against your skin. He follows a pace that has your body shaking, straining in intense pleasure until it gives in. You let out a low scream as your orgasm hits, and he’s right there, riding out your high with you.

He cleans you up with his tongue and then makes a show of licking your essence off his fingers before kissing you again.

“You did good,” he teases, as he caresses your cheek.

You’re about to say that so did he when bucks his hip against yours, and the feel of his hard cock against your still wet cunt ignites another fire in you. He repeats it, and it’s what has you moaning again.

“Fuck baby, I told you to keep it down,” he says, continuing his movements.

You know you can’t help it at this point, not when he’s back to licking your neck and kneading your breast.

“Whatever. Not like this isn’t new to your parents or anything,” you say. 

It’s a guess but you doubt you’re wrong.

“What? Fucking a girl in my room?” 

“Yeah?”

“But you’re the first girl I ever brought in here,” he cocks an eyebrow. 

“That’s uh, that’s kinda sweet,” you reply, your breath steadying now. 

“Yeah and well, who gets to say they fucked their childhod crush in their childhood bedroom?” He smirks again. “I can.”

He’s back to kissing you and much as you enjoy this, the itch to feel him in your mouth overtakes you, and you take the chance when he trails down your neck.

“So, can this childhood crush suck your dick?” 

“Yes, she can,” he chuckles.

He removes himself from you and leans against his bed frame. You get on your knees and pull off his boxers, salivating at the sight before you. You get on top of him, your damp lips gliding against his hard cock and his mouth drops open, an invitation for you to do what you wish.

With your movements on his hips, you focus on his neck, licking up the smooth flesh and the protruding vein that has him biting back his moan. Then you kiss him, desperately and passionately, as you slowly remove his tank top and rest your hands on his chest.

It’s your turn to trail kisses down his torso now and you give every inch of him ample attention. But when you make it further down, there’s one part of him that deserves so much more. You tease him only a little, stroking his length and kitten-licking his slit, before swallowing him whole and swirling your tongue around and all over his cock. He’s hard and thick and everything you want inside of you.

You hold back a gag while he holds back his whimpers. You stroke him relentlessly so you could watch his mouth hang open and his strained body almost folding in pleasure as his thighs tighten in your hold. 

“You like that, baby?” You hum.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me. Fuck,” he keens, his voice quivering now. 

You let his sounds guide you on how hard and how deep to go, but he’s the one who stops you, as he leans close and captures your lips in a searing kiss. He pulls you back on top of him to slide down his cock and the stretch makes you moan in his mouth. 

He’s propped up on his arms for support while you move up and down, loving how he drags inside you in an angle that has your mind going hazy. You wrap your arms around his neck while he pushes upward to meet you, and somehow doing this while trying to be quiet is making the pleasure more intense.

It gets too much for Jungkook and he wants more. He wants to hit your deepest spots. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can. He wants to swallow your moans and touch every part of your body and pleasure you in every way that he’s able. 

So he pulls you off and lays you on your side, sliding back in from behind, with your one leg raised. The angle has you keening, even more when his one hand finds your breast and the other does its work on your clit. He pushes gently then roughly, no longer caring about the odd sounds the bed is making against his wall. He wouldn’t mind making up a reason to his parents if they ask him about it. Right now, all he wants is to reach his peak with you. 

Your body is shaking in pleasure and overstimulation but you urge him, wanting to feel his seed inside you as well.

You lick his mouth. “Baby please, I want to feel your cum inside me,” you beg. “I want you so bad, fuck fuck.”

He loves it when you plead to him like this. He loves hearing what he does to you. He revels in the way your body molds into his, the way it aches to be close and to be one with him. His movements continue, and with his unrhythmic pounding against your pussy, he comes. You come right after, caused by his intense fiddling of your clit, and you feel like floating, your body in the clouds of pure pleasure.

But like always, he’s there with you, making sure you safely fall into a bed of hugs and kisses and warmth. He stays inside you as he softens, but his arms wrap around you, his face in your neck as he mumbles words of praise. 

“Fifteen-year-old me would never believe this,” he heaves as he turns you over to face him.

You giggle in response. 

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I do. It’s how I am with you. In the best way, of course,” he smiles his boyish smile, an interesting mix of innocent and cheeky.

“It’s the same with me,” you whisper, kissing his nose. “And 18-year-old me would never believe this.”

You wake up the next morning to the alarm that you set on Jungkook’s phone. Your parents are leaving early in the afternoon and they wanted to prepare breakfast for all of you, and it’s a meal with them that you’re excited and a little nervous to have. 

You kiss the chest that your face is flushed against, and this elicits a groan from the man next to you. 

“Good morning, babe,” you greet, shifting up to kiss his nose this time. 

“G’morning,” he grunts.

“So, uh, we’re supposed to meet my parents for breakfast. And uh, I’m going to tell them about us.”

It’s what prompts him to finally open his eyes, and the softness in them makes your heart burst. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “I hope it won’t ruin their trip or anything.”

“It won’t,” you assure him. “I… I tried to get through to my mom yesterday. You know, just telling her the things I value and stuff.”

“Hmm. Jimin did the same with your dad. I guess I won’t be such a disappointment now, huh?”

“Shush, you’re not even that,” you pout. “I think they’ll understand.”

He mirrors your smile and there’s a giddy feeling at finally - hopefully - seeing your parents be happy for you. So you get off the bed and sneak out of Jungkook’s bedroom to go to the bathroom. 

You wash up quickly, only to make it to the hallway and find his parents standing there, wide-eyed as they look at you in surprise. You realize you’re only wearing Jungkook’s shirt that falls just above your knees and you try to cover whatever you can with your hands.

“Hi, uncle. Hi, auntie,” you shyly smile. “This, uh, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

“Well, we don’t really mind,” Jungkook’s mother smiles. “We’re just glad you’re here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know. I, uh, I wasn’t dating your son yet the last time I was here.”

“And that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?” She giggles. “That boy has had a crush on you since forever. It’s funny he never believed that we knew. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you laugh back.

You hear a door open and before you know it, large arms are wrapping around your waist and a mop of hair tickles your cheek. Jungkook grunts against your neck as he says that he’s finally awake, and you cringe at his parents’ amused faces.

“Kook, your parents are in front of us. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nah, they don’t mind. They’re cool,” he says.

“Yeah, and my parents aren’t,” you sigh.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know yet?” His father asks.

Your pout prompts him to explain. “Well, the day after you got together, our lovesick son here told our family about both of you. But he said that you haven't told your parents yet so we’ve kept it from them ever since. It’s hard since we see them all the time but we managed.”

“Kook also told us about what happened,” his mother asks. “He was grumpy all day yesterday and we got him to tell us why he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout again. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”

You feel Jungkook’s hold on you tighten, his way of telling you it’s all okay.

“It’s alright, darling,” she smiles. “We know how your parents are, and their reasons come from a good place. We tried to make this boy here understand them and you as well. Firstborns carry immense pressure to meet expectations; he just doesn’t get it because he’s the youngest. But it seems that it’s worked out with both of you, and we’re glad it did.”

“He couldn’t resist me,” you shrug, to his parents’ amusement. 

“Uh, you’re the one who walked through the rain to come see me,” he reminds you, his head popping out of your neck now. 

“You wanted me to.”

He tickles you in response and you’re all laughing in no time. It’s a different dynamic with his parents, as Jungkook always had a very close relationship with them. You saw it as a teenager and now, you get to be part of it, too.

They finally let you go and ask you to have dinner with them tomorrow, and that’s one meal that you’re definitely excited to have. 

You push Jungkook towards the bathroom and then return to his room to dress up. It’s shortly after when you’re both walking the few blocks to your house, fingers interlocked as you give each other comfort.

You make it home and once you unlock the door, you can already hear laughter and clanking pots from the kitchen. You head there, meet Jimin’s smug face, and clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you were,” your mother says. “And hi, Jungkook.”

He greets your parents and from behind you, you take his hand again. 

“I went for a walk… with Jungkook.”

He clears his throat and you backtrack.

“I mean, I, uh, was at his place. That’s where I slept.”

“Oh?” Your parents say at the same time, their eyes looking at you in confusion.

“He’s kinda my boyfriend.”

“Kinda? Babe, I think I’m more than ‘kinda’ your boyfriend,” he exclaims. 

Your parents look shocked and next to them, Jimin is laughing in his seat.

“I mean, he is my legit, actual boyfriend,” you correct. “The new thing in my life that I denied is actually him. And the person who stands by me, who makes me enjoy the moments? That’s him, too.”

Their faces soften, and somehow that’s the comfort you need. Perhaps all the talking that you and your brother have done has gotten into them. You wouldn’t be surprised if they talked about it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell us, then?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s not what you expected,” you sigh. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“Well, he is your brother’s best friend,” she points out. 

“Who’s had a crush on me since he was a teenager,” you explain.

“That’s… not surprising,” your father laughs. “We could tell.”

“Oh my god, Kook. You are not subtle,” you elbow him. You turn back at them. “But I… I didn’t know how to tell you because you expect me to have a partner who’s part of your world, you know? And Jungkook likes his freedom. He likes his art and… he really likes me. And I happen to really like him, too.”

“He treats you well? Makes you happy? He’s someone you can depend on when things get tough?” Your father asks. 

He smiles tenderly at you and you feel like crying.

“Yes, very much,” you nod.

“Then I think he’s everything we need him to be. A good partner, I’d say.”

You let out a sigh of relief. This is all you needed to hear.

“We’re sorry if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us,” your mother shakes her head. “I guess we just needed some reminding of what we want for you and your brother. And well, Jungkook’s shown us his heart all these years. He’s always been a part of the family and he’ll be even more.”

They’re words that Jungkook didn’t expect would get him emotional, and he hugs you from behind just to steady himself. But it’s what makes your mother walk towards him for a hug, and your father surprisingly does the same. 

“Alright, I guess it’s fitting to have this family breakfast together,” your mother says.

You all take your seats at the dining table, with yours being next to Jungkook now.

Jimin cheekily smiles. “Well, if this whole dance thing doesn’t work out, I guess I can just be a counselor or family therapist or something.”

“Just don’t call your clients ‘stupid,’” you roll your eyes.

“I won’t. That’s only reserved for you.”

And just like that, everything is as it should be.

You get through breakfast with lots of laughter, as you and Jungkook tell your own versions of the story while Jimin butts in to tell his own. It’s heartwarming to see your parents this way, especially when they tease your boyfriend about his crush on you growing up. 

But even they admit that they’ve depended on him all these years, too, and that they don’t doubt his loyalty and commitment to you. 

You share a tense moment with him after you all drop your parents to the airport, though. Jungkook has just unloaded all their things and as they hug you goodbye, your father teases.

“Just don’t welcome us home and tell us we're grandparents already.”

Jungkook dry laughs and so do you. That’s another topic for another day, you suppose, and while you’re still unsure of having a family, you just know it’s something you’ll both talk about.

You all get home soon after to wash up. Jungkook’s excited about how you’ll spend the day now that you’re both talking again, and you suggest hanging by the beach and then going out for dinner. 

Jimin says he’ll stay home to let you two make up for the past two days and so he could have that online date with Taehyung, and you agree.

You and Jungkook end up having a really good day. 

You go to a mall and walk around. He gets you a pair of stud earrings to commemorate the day you went official to your parents and you buy him a silver chain necklace for the same silly reason, but also because he looks really good in one and you want him to have more. It pairs real nicely with the shirt and joggers casual outfit he’s been sporting these past days, and the teasing look he makes after he puts it on reminds you of that one time his necklace was dangling on your face when he was pounding into you on your couch.

You get fruit drinks and snacks at the stalls you both used to buy from as teenagers, then you head to the beach where you lounge until sunset. You wade in the water, splash each other, and then make out when there’s no one around. 

You feel so free and light, so young and hopeful. These are the moments you love having with him, the ones you like to enjoy and savor and have more of. And you know you’ll have them for the rest of this trip and when you get back to Seoul. 

Jimin joins you for dinner at a burger place, then you all buy cup noodles and beer and head to your favorite park. It’s just like how most of your nights together go, just in the outdoors. You and your brother bicker and Jungkook referees; there’s also the occasional “you’re so cheesy” comment from you to your boyfriend and Jimin’s gagging sound. 

You confirm plans for the rest of the trip. Your parents will be enjoying Hawaii for close to two weeks, and you have all that time to rest and spend time with your two favorite people. You’ll be off work. Jungkook has some projects to finalize while you do your own thing, and Jimin will be watching dance shows to get him inspired. 

But there are more beaches and parks and villages to visit. There’s also that two-night stay at a resort you’ll be having. There are other sites and restaurants to go to, and you’ll be reliving your teenage years together while making new memories.

You’re now back at home, snug in Jungkook’s arms as he leans against the bed frame in your room, with you in between his legs. 

“Today was a really good day,” you say, turning to him after he kisses your cheek.

“Today was amazing,” he hums.

He smiles as he replays the scenes of you shopping for each other, frolicking on the beach, and walking around your favorite spots. They’re all so simple and things you’ve done before but today felt so much more. There was a look in your eyes that held such tenderness and care for him. You held his hand as if you didn’t want to ever let go, as if you didn’t want him to.

“I really like you, Kook,” you mumble, almost like a confession, as if it’s not known. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

His eyes soften, as does his smile that he’s had on pretty much the whole day. But he just looks at you, and though you know he feels the same way, you want to hear him verbalize it again.

“Hey, say it back,” you nudge him. 

“I love you though,” he says after a beat of silence.

You’re now the one who looks at him, unable to say a word. 

“Are you that surprised?” He looks back at you nervously, nibbling his lip ring. “I mean, I think it’s quite obvious, just like everything I feel about you is.”

“Kook, I…” you try, but you don’t exactly know how to respond. 

You don’t doubt his feelings but somehow you can’t help but think that maybe right now, he loves the idea of you and not you, and there’s a difference.

“I think I always have but I guess I didn’t realize just how much until this whole thing happened,” he continues, wanting you to understand what he feels. “I asked Jimin why it was affecting me so much and he said it’s because I put you on a pedestal. You were this dream I’ve had for so long that I admired from a distance and now I get to be with you and you’re… human, not some flawless being who doesn’t make mistakes. So when you hurt me, I faltered. That’s on me, too. Because I… I expected too much. And I’m sorry.”

His focus is on his hands that are playing with yours before he turns to you again.

“I realized that I wanted so badly for you to want me, that’s why it hurt. I wanted to be that person you cared for and trusted and needed because you’re all that for me. And when I saw you at my door last night, nothing else mattered but you,” he continues. 

“Whatever misunderstanding or mistake or disagreement, I learned to accept them and I just wanted you, in my arms, so I could show you that you’re all I need. I’ve dreamt of you for so long and this version of you is more than I could’ve imagined. And I just… I love you, okay? It doesn’t matter how you feel. I just need you to know that I do, and I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Your heart is about to burst, and all you could do is cup his face in your hands and kiss him, hard and deep until you run out of air. You kiss him eagerly because you’re desperate for his touch. You kiss him passionately because there are things you feel that you can’t put into words yet, and this is how you tell him. 

He’s quick to follow your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he helps you sit on his lap. Your fingers comb through his hair and grip his top and pull him closer, all while you grind against him and moan in his mouth. 

But when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, you go tender. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers against your lips, and all you feel is the warmth of his touch and how it’s all the comfort and security and stability that you need.

You slowly pull away and graze your nose against his. You don’t say anything else and he doesn’t expect you to. But you kiss his cheek and hug him, and you hear him sigh in relief.

He pulls away and cheekily smiles. 

“You know, there’s a song for this.”

“A—what?” You laugh.

“A song.”

He pulls away from you then stands from the bed. “Let me get it from Jimin’s room.”

You stare at him questioningly because you really didn’t think he could surprise you even more. He returns with one of his burned CDs and you ask him if he has a sex playlist or something. 

“I used to daydream about you to this,” he says, as he puts it in the CD player that your parents got you for your 17th birthday. “I listened to it after that very kiss we had and, well, we’re back home rehashing so many memories and I kinda just want to fulfill another fantasy of mine.”

He plays the song and the first notes get you all giddy and excited and nostalgic and very much turned on. 

“This was my favorite song,” you say, as you signal him to come closer.

“I know. You played it all the time, I could hear it from the other room.”

You giggle, and it’s a sound he wants to listen to forever. 

“So, what’s this fantasy of yours?” You ask, as you take your shirt off.

He licks his lips at the breathtaking sight of you, but he softens at the fairy tattoo on your shoulder, the one he customized and that you love showing off.

“Just… make love to you while this plays in the background,” he manages to say. 

Your face softens, too, and it’s a sight he also wants to see everyday of his life.

“I’m all yours, Kook. Do whatever you please.”

It’s a week later when you tell him. 

You’d just gotten back from that short trip to a resort that had you relaxed and stuffed with food. You video called with your parents during their sunset cruise and your father once again teased about not being grandparents yet and just like the first time, you brushed it off. 

You’re lying on Jungkook’s chest as you laugh about Jimin’s terrible bowling skills. And in the silence, he asks, “does it bother you that your parents expect you to have kids?”

You knew he’d picked up on it the first time, but it’s just now that he’s bringing it up.

“A little. I try not to think about it though,” you sigh. “It’s another one of those expectations, you know? But I guess it’s a harder thing to talk to them about, that I don’t know if I want kids.”

He just hums and combs your hair with his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. You know enough this is a make-or-break for many people. 

“Not really,” he says. “It’s not easy to raise a child, much less carry one, and that’s something I can’t do for you. But I guess, it doesn’t matter. We can have kids. Or not. We can have a dog or a pet tortoise or a fish, really. When I think of a future, all I see is you. The rest is just a bonus.”

He speaks of your future with such certainty. He’s always talked about enjoying the moments but the one version of a future he wants is the one where you’re with him. 

“I just want you to know that whatever you’re worried about, share it with me. I don’t want you to worry about me. We do this together. We figure it out together,” he adds. 

And just like that, the fears and pressure you feel slowly dissipate. He’s the only version of the future you want. Everything else is just a bonus. 

You turn to him with a kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, Kook. I don’t want anyone else to love me, and I don’t want to love anybody else,” you whisper like a plea, just like a promise. 

“I’m not loving anybody else,” he kisses you. 

And it’s his own promise he makes.

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[theorist-fox]

Paint

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Crossposted on AO3

Previous << || >> Next

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You and Simon share a cigarette. He slips up, and shares something more.

18+

CW: suggestive, non-explicit smut. kissing. smoking. angst. hurt/comfort. miscommunication. mutual pining. sexual and non sexual intimacy. and guess what, my favorite tag, simon ghost riley is bad at feelings.

Masterlist 🦊 | Series Masterlist 🦊

“Need to rest?”

You doubt he hasn’t heard you arrive, even if he’s facing the opposite way. It’s true, you could’ve gotten rid of at least the Kevlar vest or taken off your boots—but being in a safehouse doesn’t mean it’s literally safe, and you don’t like taking risks. Plus, there’s no time for getting dressed if there’s an emergency.

That's why you're sure he's heard you: boots thudding against the floor, the bulletproof vest scraping on the cotton of your uniform, the carabiners hanging from your tac belt, or the gun on your hip that clicks when you walk.

Normally, those sounds are muted; muscles and bulk don’t necessarily mean you move like a bull in a china shop. But you know the beast, now dormant, that is sitting on the floor right at your side.

Fucking bat.

He could move exclusively through echolocation, eyes closed shut; who knows? You wouldn’t put it past him.

You think you should start spreading the rumour, just to watch people shit their pants even more when he walks past. It’s already a sight you swear by, the way their faces pale while you stride beside him, dipping your chin to your chest to hide the quiet giggles—why not add some spice to it?

However, your fun thoughts are interrupted by the man himself.

“S’my turn tonight.” He replies listlessly, eyes locked on the door—armoured, triple-bolted, locked handle, and trip wire at the entrance, courtesy of Soap. He wanted to be safe, he said. Sure—being in a safehouse doesn’t necessarily mean you’re safe, you agree, but Simon always likes to take things to the next level. And Price only feeds that urge, twice as paranoid as your not-so-friendly Ghost.

His watch has started three hours ago, and would you look at that? The door is still there. Closed. Bolted shut. Unexploded. Shocking.

You wonder why the five of you are even bothering with rotations when the place is quite literally a bunker a few feet underground, and if someone were to walk in unannounced, their arse would blow up to bits thanks to Johnny’s intricate wire trap.

But oh well. Simon is like that, and Price is even worse, so you’ll give in to their wishes like Kyle and Johnny did and take it the way it comes.

Then again, sleep isn’t apparently in your plans, and four eyes are always better than two, so you plop on the floor next to Simon, legs outstretched in front of you, mimicking his posture.

You nudge his ankle with the tip of your boot, because he’s freakishly tall, and your foot won’t quite reach his. He bends his knee enough to nudge you back.

“I can take over,” you tell him, knocking the back of your head against the wall. “Can’t sleep anyway.”

You feel his eyes on you, lingering like the muzzle of a gun to your temple, but it’s just a threat—you know he won’t shoot. Though hatred is permanently carved in his eyes—some leftovers of a past life—it feels more like a burning weapon poised to pierce your head, one that never quite follows through.

He’s kinder than he looks.

“Nightmares?”

“No.”

“Go on, then.” Simon says, with a jerky nod of his jaw your way.

“Feel a little restless, I guess.” You reply with a shrug, as if this is your daily routine by now. “Not exactly a comfortable place, this one. Plus, cap snores.”

He snorts. You smile.

“Loud engine, tha’ one.” He comments, returning his eyes to the door.

“You do too, y’know? Well, you don’t snore much, but,” you gesture with your finger at your mouth, “you grind your teeth at night.”

“Ain’t snorin’, tha’.”

“Still,” you purse your lips in a cheeky smile, “Annoying—that.”

You watch him give you the side-eye of the century. The blueprint of it. But it lasts a second before he returns his focus to the door, as if afraid it might run away or something.

"No one’s makin’ ya, y’know?" he drawls. "Don’t have to sleep over—could always jog on after you’re done.”

After you’re done, he says—as if it’s a chore.

You hate when he takes ten steps back after he’s taken one forward. One day he’s all up in your business, worrying his mind and his heart, and the next he tells you to go take a hike after you’re done.

It makes your belly churn and melt like he’s pouring acid over it—you’re in too deep, and you know it. But you're too much of a coward to drag yourself out of the muck of this relationship. You’d rather sink into its depths and be swallowed whole than face the thought of never seeing him again. You’ve already come to terms with that truth—it doesn’t get easier at all, though.

Instead of biting back, you roll your head his way and smile, small and genuine.

“I like sleeping with you.”

His shoulders tighten as if he’s startled by the way you replied so transparently, but he keeps his eyes on the door, giving you nothing else to work with.

“You don’t?” You venture.

No feelings, Sarge—you can practically hear him say in the silence that hangs tersely between you. Simon will die on that hill; you’re sure of it. Even if sometimes he slips and cares, says words you’d never think to hear from his mouth, fucks you too slowly for it to be considered just sex, it’s just the way it is, the way he says.

You know he’ll never leave his shell. Where he’s comfortably lonely, where he’s secure and safe. Whether he cares for you or not, the wall’s too high to climb, too thick to blow.

But the awful person here is not him for behaving the way he does; it’s you for putting your heart through the meat grinder knowing fully well it’ll come out like butchered meat.

If you're looking for someone to hate, Simon isn't the one.

“Negative.” He drawls.

You shift uncomfortably next to him, subtly pulling away a few inches from his leg.

But then he adds, “Toss an’ turn too much. Hog the covers.”

You stiffen and scowl. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Well, you could always yank them back,” you reply, sounding a little too petty for your age.

Simon finally turns his head your way, but now it’s you who’s glaring holes into the (shockingly) still unmoving door. His eyes linger on your profile for a second too long, and you’re just about ready to bite back with some snarky comment about him taking a picture so it’ll last longer when he speaks first.

“Don’t have the heart to wake you up.”

You feel something inside you soften and melt. Gingerly, you turn your head his way.

Your eyes lock, and his are creased at the corners—not with a smile, but with tender attention, as if he’s taking in the details of something worth his time, his concentration.

You plaster on a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased, as your cheeks warm over.

A soft huff to blow out the heat gathered right under your skin, and then you’re nudging his shoulder with your hand. He dramatically lolls sideways.

“That must be the nicest thing you’ve ever told me.”

He nudges you back, and you dramatically flop on your side. He snorts.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says, and gently curls his fingers around your forearm to lift you up.

You’re unexpectedly pulled in until you’re tucked in his side. The team is right behind a thin wall, and the knowledge initially turns your body into stiff marble. While their snores signal that your privacy is safe, you don’t want to repeat past mistakes. No matter how alluring those memories are.

But still—you don’t fight Simon’s hold around you; you don’t dare.

You trust his judgement and progressively melt into him, nestling your cheek on his chest as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. Nice and comfortable, in spite of how hard it is with all this stupid gear strapped on both of you. The Velcro on one of his front pockets scratches your skin, but the rest of you is so cosy that you don’t care. You toss one leg across his, and he doesn’t flinch or pull away.

“Can’t wait for evac to come get us,” you sigh. “I’d kill for a smoke.”

Simon squeezes your shoulder. You decide to take it as a green light to rest; your eyes flutter closed almost automatically, as if he’s pressed a button the moment he pulled you in. Grateful, you bask in this brief show of care—allowing Simon to take that one step forward, fully knowing he’ll just take ten steps back the next chance he gets, because that’s simply how he is.

He doesn’t add anything to your comment, probably registering it as further small talk, and you know he doesn’t care for that. He has a sort of internal threshold about how much mindless chatter he can tolerate in one sitting. You're aware of it, and you don’t mind, instead taking the quiet moment for what it is: a fragment of peace.

His heartbeat is faint to your ear, too many layers between you and his chest for you to hear it clearly. His thumb swipes softly on the fabric of your uniform. And he’s warm, like a furnace rumbling with rekindled fire. Suddenly, sleeping sounds much less of a hassle and more of a treat.

Simon’s chest rises softly under your cheek. The buzzing of the neon lights overhead turns into pleasant white noise, much like the obnoxiously loud snoring coming from the bedroom behind the wall where you and Simon are leaning.

It’s only after a few moments that he shifts—imperceptibly, like the subtle man that he is. But you catch it anyway. Spec Ops and their senses, right?

Yet you trust him, so you don’t bother opening your eyes. You count your blessings, and they are few: Simon holding you to his chest while hostiles run rampant right above your heads is at the top of the list right now, and you won’t let it slip.

But then—a tap on your nose. A featherlight touch of something papery that finely crinkles when it meets your skin. You scrunch your face and force your eyes open to see…

…a cigarette.

You blink yourself awake, though you hadn't fallen deeply enough into sleep for it to be startling.

“For me?” You ask, craning your neck to look up at him, only to find him already gazing down at you.

“If you’re polite ‘bout it.” He replies, tapping the tip of the cigarette on your nose again.

You smile. “Please?”

He hums approvingly and slots it between your lips. Plucks the Zippo lighter from one of the front pockets of his vest. Swiftly flicks it open.

The flame dances before your eyes, blue hues growing into yellows and oranges. You lean closer, allowing the tip of the cigarette to hover right into it, until the white paper burns dark, until it finally glows red.

The first drag you take feels like a warm hug. Not often do you have the chance to sit back and smoke while on the job—the glowing cherry is like a big, fat, neon arrow pointing at your head for eventual snipers. Too dangerous to even try.

But six feet underground (quite literally), inside a windowless, armoured bunker, you’re safe from unwanted scopes and deadly bullets. And your cigarette is your prize right now, so you savour it like you should.

You groan in bliss, smoke leaving your lips in foggy curls.

“Lifesaver,” you murmur, returning your head to his chest.

He squeezes your shoulder. “Easy to please.”

You snuggle closer, and he holds you there in comfortable silence. But he’s incredibly tactile tonight: fingers draw mindless circles on your shoulder, while his other hand has found purchase on your thigh, thumb swiping back and forth along the inner seam of your trousers.

It’s not sexual. You think you’d recognise when Simon’s touch turns into something carnal and covetous. No, now he’s just… touching. Sensing. Testing the softness of the meat of your thigh between his fingers, feeling the curve of your shoulder with his pads. It feels like he’s blowing softly at the cinders of a fire that’s been smothered by the more grievous events of this long operation. It torches your belly; rekindled flames gently lick at your skin, until you feel soft and malleable, warm and weightless.

You smoke peacefully, eyes occasionally fluttering closed. Subtle shivers run through you when his hand travels to your side, right where the bulletproof vest doesn’t cover. 

Three or four drags in, a gloved hand appears before your eyes. He beckons with his fingers.

A breathless chuckle. A fond roll of your eyes. You tap the column of ash off the tip and place the cigarette between them.

Simon uses his thumb to lift the mask off his face until it bunches up on his forehead. You shift enough to sit upright and tilt your head his way.

His cheeks are flushed red, irritated by the continuous rubbing of the balaclava. Slivers of paler skin stretch across his cheekbones and upper lip—knotted scars that have always been there, disrupting the growth of his stubble and the smoothness of his skin. Yet now, after tracing them time and time again, they blend in so seamlessly that you have to focus to even notice them at all. Lost their shock value, they have. Now, they’re just small pieces of a puzzle—insignificant in the grand scheme that is Simon.

He brings the cigarette to his lips. His cheeks hollow as he takes a lungful of smoke. It puffs out of his lips a moment later, as he sighs with the same relief you did moments earlier. Just like that, his apparent tranquillity infuses you with the same peace.

“Don’t finish it.” You murmur, very aware that if he did, you wouldn’t mind.

His mouth twitches, and his pupils swivel down to where you’re nestled in his side. Honey lashes fan his cheekbones, eyelids smeared with black greasepaint that makes the chocolate of his eyes look like the warmest of browns. Dark ripples mottled with gold.

“Learn to share.” He drawls, but contrary to his words, he brings the cigarette to your mouth.

You wrap your lips around the orange filter, brushing briefly with the pads of Simon’s gloved fingers. Another intake of smoke has your shoulders relax, but before you can breathe it out of your system, Simon tilts your chin up with his thumb and leans in dangerously close.

Not that you haven’t been this close before, of course. You’ve had him kissing you silly, mouthing at your skin, or drowning between your legs. But to your poor battered heart, every time feels like the first. A blessing, because you’d never trade this feeling for anything in the world. A curse, because it’s a lonely one.

Smoke billows from your parted lips into tendrils that travel upwards and sting your eyes. You don’t close them, but your eyelids fall a little heavier—though you don’t blame it on the smoke.

He nudges your nose with his, instructing you to tilt your head back.

You do.

His thumb tugs your chin, gently forcing your mouth to part. Your stomach flips and twists, leaving you dizzy and unsure of which way is which. The flames from before are melting you inside out now, burning liquid pooling at your lower belly. It makes you muscles clench, your thighs squeeze.

Simon’s eyes stay on yours as he brings the cigarette to one corner of his lips. He takes a purposeful drag. The burning paper crackles. The sound is ten times louder to your ears.

Your blood pumps madly—you feel it run and collect in the apples of your cheeks, in your head, spinning and spinning, until your thoughts are blurry and disconnected.

The arm coiled around you curves so that he can trace your shoulder, following the outline of your gear, and then his hand settles around the side of your face. He keeps you still, fingers flexed at your jaw and thumb dimpling your cheek. The cold leather of his glove should counterbalance the warmth blooming right under your skin, giving you some sort of comfort, yet it’s such a jarring contrast that it only causes the air to lodge in your throat.

The intensity in his eyes, masked by the usual indolent display, is not lost on you; he makes it impossible, unthinkable, to look away. The air around him is stuffy, almost suffocating, and the haze of the smoke, with its pungent smell, doesn’t help. Yet somehow, it makes him look so unbelievably soft, like everything around him is dimmed and unimportant. Like his eyes are all that matters, or the shape of his lips and the slight crook of his nose.

The hand holding the cigarette goes to rest on your thigh. It tenses under his touch, and he squeezes it until it softens right under his palm.

Smoke leaves his lips, then, billowing right into yours. It travels down your tongue, pungent and hot, even richer in taste after it’s been in his mouth, too.

Something tightens in your belly. Makes your head spin further and your hands tremble, as they lie rigidly at your sides. Tension spreads through your body something fierce, muscles coiled in beautiful anticipation, but the lines in your face are smoothed down when Simon brushes his thumb on your cheek.

You inhale. Nicotine travels down your lungs and inflates them with the earthy notes of tobacco, the subtle hint of mint of a gum he must’ve chewed on before, the humidity of his warm breath.

“Like that,” he breathes hoarsely, abandoning the effort of sounding even remotely unaffected.

You blink slowly, exhaling a fleeting cloud of smoke back into his mouth.

“What?” You ask, so quietly you can’t even hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat.

The cigarette is presented right next to your face, once again. The column of ash at the tip is longer than the portion still available to smoke. As Simon brings it to your lips, you see it crumble onto your trousers in your peripherals. You don’t care.

“Learn to share,” he repeats hoarsely. “Just like that.”

And he nudges your lips open by slotting the filter between them. His gaze falls on them like it’s inevitable, like his eyes are metal and your mouth is a magnet.

You take a slow drag, watching his face with hooded eyes. Simon follows raptly the way your cheeks sink, how your lips curl. He’s lost his subtlety now, more obvious when you notice the heaviness with which his throat bobs.

Gingerly, you raise a hand to hook your fingers at the shoulder straps of his vest, pulling him in. He slowly follows your lead, inching closer once more.

Smoke flows from your mouth to his, a wave of soft grey tendrils that tethers Simon to you. And he breathes it in, breathes you in, closing the gap.

His lips meet yours in a kiss that couldn’t be considered one for how faint it is. But his arm, still curled around your shoulders and holding your face steady, tightens just a fraction.

Simon brushes his nose with yours. His head cocks sideways, and he presses his mouth to you again.

You feel like every nerve ending that’s being touched is set ablaze, synapses overriding in the poor attempt to concoct a thought, a word, a breath. Nothing leaves you, if not a trembling sigh that stings with nicotine.

Simon pulls back. You whine pathetically, and you don’t care, as your eyes flutter open—you hadn’t even noticed you’d closed them at all. You trace a path from his lips upwards, studying intently the lines in his face and the way the camo paint hasn’t managed to settle in the wrinkles around his eyes, in the furrow between his brows.

Pinched, they are. As if that kiss has worried him more than any bit of sex ever could.

Your heart clenches at the thought. Writhes pitifully, as if it could talk him out of his spiral, bring him back to you, burn his lips to yours until they merge into a single fucking entity that’s impossible to tell apart.

But he nods softly, then. Your chest unravels, lightens. You nod back.

The cigarette in his hand falls forgotten on the dark concrete floor. His palm lands on your waist, fingers delicately tugging at the bulletproof vest.

His lips find you again. Softly, like he’s testing waters he’s already more than navigated—conquered, even. Mouths slot perfectly like they’ve been trying to do this thing all this time, all along.

You return his kiss with the same caution, trying to quell that fire ignited in your belly. Soft pecks echo in the quiet room, drowning the sounds of your teammates sleeping just behind the wall, the flicker of the lights overhead. Focusing on Simon’s lips, on his taste, and the slight twitch of his brow pressed to yours.

You busy your other hand by hooking it around one of the front pockets of his vest, where a magazine sits. His chest rises heavily under the press of your palm.

Without ever breaking apart, you shift until you’re on your knees, gaining the rare advantage of height. Simon tilts his head accordingly, resting it back against the wall. Your hands initially settle on his shoulders, then on the slopes of his neck, thumbing gently at each side.

He holds you uncharacteristically tender, a hand on your waist and the other on your thigh, where he pats once, twice, until you’re following silent instructions and end up straddling his lap.

Simon’s kiss never stops, nor does it deepen. He teases your lips with his own, leaving gentle pecks that have your stomach erupt in butterflies, your throat tight and suddenly parched.

You wonder if this is the moment in which he slips one hand under the waistband of your trousers, like he always does. Whether he’ll settle on teasing the blooming wetness on your knickers until he’ll feel merciful enough to travel past the cotton and plunge his fingers into you. Or if he’ll simply skew the gusset of your panties to the side and touch you, formalities set aside.

He does none of that.

Instead, his hand settles at the back of your head, the other one on your waist. You flutter your eyes open, only to find his completely shut—and if Simon Riley dares to look so peaceful, you’ll allow yourself that blessing too.

You lose yourself in him, sharing unhurried kisses only framed by the ripping sound of velcro being unstrapped—his fingers working deftly with your tac vest at your sides. You help him out, lifting your arms so he can take it off.

Simon tosses it behind you. Pulls you back down to him again, with long fingers keeping you still by your nape, while other hungry ones untuck your shirt from your trousers so they can feel your skin. Your stomach ripples when he touches it.

His palm explores, follows the curve of each fold, of each line, tracing a path that warms up under his hand and pitifully freezes when he leaves it unattended. Until the tips of his fingers reach the underline of your bra. You sigh softly in his mouth.

“Yes?” He breathes.

“Yes.” You reply.

It must make something tick in his brain, because his painfully obvious tent pressing up to you twitches under your weight.

Simon kisses you slowly as he palms at your breast right above the cottoned bra, causing your sex to flutter around nothing, yet not in a way that feels unfulfilling.

He spares no more seconds to hook his fingers around the central seam of your bra, pulling down.

He cups one of your breasts as it spills out—feeling its weight in his hand, thumbing softly at the nipple until it hardens, until you feel just enough out of breath.

You think you feel him tremble when he leaves your mouth to travel with featherlight kisses down your jaw, nipping right under the bone, where your flesh is plumper. You shiver and tilt your head to give him more room to work with, offering your neck to satiate his appetite.

His kisses are open and wet, but no less patient, as if he thinks he has all the time in the world to savour you until he’s content. He doesn’t; you know it, but you can’t summon the courage to remind him of where you are, of the possibility of onlookers.

No, because he’s tender, he’s kind, he’s bordering on reverent, as he kisses your neck, as he touches your chest.

His hand follows the indent of your spine, settling at the base of it and toying with the hem of your shirt only to lift it up and brush your skin. Hairs all over your body stand on end. You breathe heavily and slow, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders—your fingernails digging in as if that might help you quiet down.

“Y’ taste good," he whispers to your skin.

Your lips twitch in a smile.

“Haven’t showered in days,” you reply just as quietly.

He bites into your neck. Your spine arches in brief shock, and he keeps you from falling backwards with his palm at your back.

“An’ yet,” he drawls, pulling back just to lift those dark eyes at you, “Sweet as a peach.”

The softest grin spreads on your lips almost reflexively.

“Flattery will get you—”

“Anywhere,” he interjects, lifting your shirt to expose your chest until the fabric bunches right above your breasts.

You let him, perhaps proving him right. Even so, you cup his cheeks when he eases in closer, leaving open kisses at your sternum. The paint over his eyes transfers to your skin, leaving darkened streaks of sweat and black grease.

You briefly wonder if your neck looks the same, or if there’s any residue left on your face. If he’s unknowingly marked you in such a spontaneous way, simply because it was meant to happen. The quiver in your chest becomes easier to understand then—a sense of belonging in the shape of messy grease marks left in Simon’s wake.

He murmurs something you can’t quite place, hushed and lost in the haze that has been building in your head, in the thunder of your heartbeat. You hum inquisitively, brushing your hand through his dampened hair.

He repeats himself. You hear him now. You do—quite clearly, actually.

“Missed you,” he says.

The poor thing that’s your heart cracks fiercely. You wish it were a neat fracture, easier to piece back together, but it’s jagged and dangerously sharp instead.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. It’s a plea, because there are only so many lies you can take in exchange for a fuck.

His hands connect with each side of your waist, grasping at the flesh to keep you still. He doesn’t use that grip to grind your hips to his own, he doesn’t use it to relieve the tension of his hardened sex.

He uses them simply because he can. Because he wants to. Wants to feel you, touch you, sense where you are, while his lips explore somewhere else, where your flesh is softer and plumper, more sensitive.

“I did.” He insists breathlessly, careful not to raise his voice. “Fuck—I did.”

You push at his shoulders, but he doesn’t let up.

“You didn’t,” you repeat through gritted teeth. Tears build in your eyes much too rapidly, fuelled by the frantic beat of your heart.

He latches on to your nipple. You choke on a whine as he tugs at it softly, grasping it between his front teeth. His arms come to hold you entirely, wrapped like vines around your middle. Slowly, you surrender, ceasing your futile attempts to push him away. 

But you cry. The sting in your eyes finally finds relief as you allow fat tears to roll down your cheeks. Simon doesn’t look up at you, maybe because your sorrow translates into his guilt. However, he stops tasting you with a weary sigh, gently resting his forehead on your chest as he holds you steady.

“I did,” he croaks. "I do."

You hold him too, encircling your arms around his head and resting your cheek on top of it. His hands go from still to hesitating until he is the one who gives in, this time, and brushes them soothingly down your back.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, but judging by the lack of movements from your teammates behind that thin wall, it’s probably been only a handful of minutes. Regardless, Simon holds you through all of it. Until he feels the soft stutters in your chest quell, the sniffles abate.

Only then does he lift his head. Only then does he cup your face in his hands. Thumbs brushing your cheekbones, collecting dried-up tears. They glide on smoothly, which makes you think that maybe his greasepaint has transferred onto your skin there as well.

It shouldn’t, but your heart flips at the thought anyway.

“I'm not a good man, love.” He murmurs, eyes dark and unusually sad. “But I'm no liar.”

The earnestness in his voice almost makes you choke up again. 

You swallow it down. Inhale.

Recollect yourself. Exhale. Lean your cheek in his hand.

Your eyes are downcast, staring at the dark streaks of camo paint fading and blending on your chest.

“I know,” you croak, unsure but wanting to believe him. Almost needing to.

Simon’s hand leaves your cheek. It’s so much colder now that the air brushes your damp skin, but the ice sublimates suddenly when he taps your chin.

You lift your head and lock his eyes. They shine with something unshed, perhaps tears, perhaps words he can’t place, ones he can’t say.

“No lies.” He subtly shakes his head. “Not to ya, ya hear?”

You nod softly. “No lies.”

"Missed ya," he says again, his voice cracking in a way that makes you think this is harder on him than it is on you. "You gotta understand that. There ain’t a day goes by that I don’t."

You swallow thickly. Throat dry, tongue stuck to your palate. Eyes fixed on him, once again unthinkable to look away, but for different reasons entirely. Perhaps this is more than one step forward; perhaps this is a whole new path from which he can’t backpedal. You don’t raise your expectations, you don’t dare—but hope is as much of a bastard as it is beautiful, and it flickers back to life.

“Okay,” you reply, not feeling like you can say it back, not feeling like it could stand in front of the way he’s said it—so viscerally that it ripped at your heart.

He kisses you again, soft like before. His hands return your bra to its place, your shirt down to your hips.

You kiss for a moment more, saying everything your voices can’t, as touch returns to be the only language you both understand.

He helps you off his lap. No more words are exchanged as he dresses you up—tucking the shirt back in your pants, putting the vest around you again, making sure it fits just right when he tightens the straps at your waist.

Wordlessly, Simon invites you back to where it all started, that night. Next to him, with his arm around your shoulders, your leg across his own, and your head on his chest. His eyes on the door, focused. His watch is not over yet.

You fall asleep, coaxed by the soft brushes of his hand on your shoulder, the rise of his chest each time he breathes.

Your hand in his own, his paint on your cheek.

[leighsartworks216]

Ominiscience

Sylus x gn!Reader

I just love when Sylus gets to protect MC from others

Warnings: unwanted advances, alcohol mention, protective Sylus, Mephisto keeping an eye on you, pet names, swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,009

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Wish you could’ve come with me. It’s boring here without you :(

You sigh as you send the text, leg bouncing as you thank the bartender for your drink. There’s no alcoholic sting when you take a sip, but you don’t expect there to be. You do have to drive back home, after all. Or maybe you’d risk the drive to the N109 Zone, just to see Sylus.

Tara invited you out to a bar to celebrate a mission success. And despite helping you in that success, you didn’t want to risk the leader of Onychinus being in Linkon around other Hunters. But you also didn’t want to disappoint Tara, especially when you’d been spending so much time in the N109 Zone when you aren’t working. You didn’t want her to think you didn’t enjoy her company or value her friendship.

Except, she got swept up by a cute guy five minutes after sitting down. They smiled together and laughed as they danced to the music, holding hands and swaying close like they’d known each other for years. And you were left at the bar to nurse virgin mocktails and cling to every message he sends you.

Awe, poor kitten. Shall I send Mephisto to keep you company?

You can’t help grinning.

For company, or for target practice?

“Hey, gorgeous.” You startle and turn toward the voice. A man gestures to the stool beside you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. He looked completely normal, even a little handsome, but something about the way his eyes looked at you had your senses on high alert. “This seat taken?”

You glance down the row of seats. There are quite a few open, further away and a safe distance from you. “No, but neither are any of those.”

He laughs at your comment and sits down, leaning his elbow on the counter and barely glancing at the bartender when he orders. You shift your drink closer.

“I like a seat with a view.”

Your phone buzzes again. You start to pick it up so you can answer the new message, hoping your clear lack of interest will get this stranger to leave you alone, but another hand grabs it and slams it back onto the bar, trapping your hand with it. His grip is relentless, squeezing your fingers together uncomfortably as he leans closer. You smell the alcohol from his drink on his breath.

“It’s rude to ignore someone, sweetheart,” he chastises. “What’s the matter, you got a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “I don’t believe you.”

Your phone begins ringing, vibrating against your crushed hand while it plays a silly tune, one you’d picked out just to annoy Sylus. The man snickers. “What kind of ringtone is that? Is your friend calling? She must be cute, too, huh?”

“You can answer it if you want,” you say, taking on an air of confidence. “Maybe she’ll think you sound pretty cute, too.”

He grins, eyes studying your hand beneath his as he considers the offer. Your heart is leaden in your chest. If he doesn’t answer and Sylus doesn’t threaten him into the next lifetime, you don’t know what else to do. The bartender’s back is to you as he talks with another customer, and Tara is probably too engrossed in her new admirer to notice your struggle.

“Alright,” he finally agrees. You try not to breathe a sigh of relief just yet as he releases you and you hand over the device. The idiot doesn’t even bother checking the call photo background, a stolen snapshot of Sylus with snow in his hair and fireworks lighting up his face. He just accepts and brings it right up to his ear, smiling at you confidently. “Hey, cutie.”

You bite your lip to fight a growing laugh from bubbling up as you watch in real time as his face changes through several different emotions.

At first, he’s just confused when a man’s voice answers the call. Then pissed. He’s glaring at you when he starts to hang up, but stops and listens again. The anger flickers into worry for a second. A split second. Enough time for his mind to try to rationalize that the words, the threats, coming in from the receiver aren’t real and can’t possibly happen to him. And then it settles. Color drains from his face. His eyes are wide, glancing from you to the people around him helplessly, clutching the phone with both hands. You can’t hear Sylus’s voice, but you wonder if he’s using Mephisto to relay the man’s movements.

It’s only been a couple minutes when the man slowly pulls the phone from his ear and holds it out to you, cradling it in both hands like a highly reactive bomb. He stammers until he finally whimpers out, “It’s- It’s for you. S-Sorry.”

You take the phone and he trips over himself trying to get away, frantically searching the crowd for the mysterious stranger that threatened his life seconds ago.

You hold it up to your ear. “Thank you for that.” You take a relaxed sip of your drink.

Sylus chuckles. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Mhm.” You glance over your shoulder. “Where’s Mephisto hiding?”

“Outside. Up a little, look to your right… There you are, sweetie,” he purrs. Mephisto’s red eyes shine like rubies through the glass of a high-set window. You can’t see his body, only the movement of his eyes as he jerks his head around. “As I was saying, have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Name anything you want. The chef will have it ready by the time you get here.”

You turn away and smile, trying to hide just how dopey it looks from him. “Do you have any work to do tonight?”

From the smile in his own voice, you’re sure he saw it anyway. “Just say the word and my schedule is cleared.”

“Which word?”

There’s an anticipatory pause. You can imagine the feel of his breath on your ear as he whispers into the microphone. “Please.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[aventurineswife]

i had a fluffy req idea if ur still taking them -

different hsr boys {main ones being aven and sunday love them sm} after your baby says their first words 🥹 (more of an ask if reqs are too full !!)

hehehe to make up for my more angsty reqs

(also, if it’s not taken, i’d love to be {🪷🤍} anon :>)

First Words

Tags: Aventurine, Sunday, Boothill, Gepard Landau, Fatherhood, Emotional Moments, Parenthood, First Words, Love, Vulnerability, Protective Fathers, Tender Moments.

Warnings: Emotional Intensity, Sensitive Themes (parental attachment, soft vulnerability)

A/N: THE WAY I SCREAMED?! OMGGG 😭💖‼️ I WAS MUFFLING MY SCREAM WHILE WRITING THIS!! BOOTHILL DESERVED TO BE IN THIS!! And, of course, you can be 🪷🤍 anon!!

Aventurine sat at the edge of the bed, his usually calculating eyes softening as he watched his baby cooing in their crib. The soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow on the room. He had been a master of strategy, a man who thrived on risks and uncertainty, yet nothing in his life had prepared him for the overwhelming joy of fatherhood.

The baby gurgled, the first words bubbling up from their tiny mouth in a way that made Aventurine's heart stutter in his chest.

"Dada..."

His breath hitched. It was a single word, but it held so much meaning. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity, never quite knowing how much it would shake him to hear. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, one that only those who knew him best would ever witness.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, though the baby was already asleep. He could have sworn the world had momentarily stopped just to let him bask in the miracle of this sound. There was no strategic calculation, no manipulation of circumstances; just pure, unrefined love. The thought that his baby had chosen him, of all people, to be the first to say such a word filled him with a warmth he didn’t often show.

Aventurine carefully reached over and placed a hand on the crib, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand. He felt the overwhelming desire to protect them, to ensure that they would never have to face the brutal world he had lived in.

"You're mine now, little one. I’ll make sure the world plays by your rules." he whispered softly, his voice laced with love.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of this moment settle into his bones. Aventurine, the master of manipulation, was nothing more than a father in this room—vulnerable, unguarded, and completely enchanted by the simple sound of "Dada."

Sunday had never been one to show much emotion outwardly, his calm and composed demeanor always masking the storm of thoughts beneath. But now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, his golden eyes locked on his baby, his chest tightened in a way that he couldn't explain. He was a man of ideals, of lofty dreams for the world, yet nothing could have prepared him for the heart-stirring moment of hearing his child speak.

"Papa..."

The single word was so simple, yet it rang in Sunday’s ears with the clarity of a thousand bells. He felt as though the weight of all the dreams and hopes he had for a perfect world, a place where his loved ones would never have to suffer, had finally taken shape in that single word.

For a moment, Sunday simply stared, stunned by the beauty of it. His hand, once firm and decisive in leadership, trembled ever so slightly as he reached toward his baby. His heart, so used to thinking in ideals and concepts of the greater good, now beat with a singular, overwhelming sense of purpose.

"You... said 'Papa.'" Sunday whispered, his voice almost breaking. His normally steady hands shook as he cradled the baby, feeling their warmth against him. For a man so convinced of the need for a perfect dream, this moment of imperfection—a baby’s first word—was more than enough to fulfill him. The world of dreams he had always sought to create felt tangible now, as though it had been born in that one precious sound.

As he gazed down at his baby, Sunday felt an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness. The weight of leadership and responsibility melted away, and he realized that no matter what happened, this little one would be his reason to keep fighting, to keep dreaming, to keep striving for a world that would never harm them.

"Papa..." he whispered again, feeling the word vibrate through him. The world he wanted to build suddenly felt like it could be real, because of this one small voice that would grow with love, light, and perhaps even a bit of the dreams he held.

Sunday smiled, a rare and genuine smile, as he looked down at his child. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, little one. I will always protect you."

Boothill had always been a man driven by rage, a cyborg cowboy with a heart hardened by years of loss and revenge. But now, as he stood in the quiet of his cabin, looking down at the baby in his arms, something had shifted. Something he couldn't explain.

His baby, wrapped in a soft blanket, gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Boothill’s usual sharp gaze softened as he cradled the tiny form in his arms, his mechanical hand careful not to hurt them. The sound of the baby babbling was almost too much for him to process.

Then, it happened.

"Pa-pa!"

The world seemed to pause. His metallic fingers tightened slightly, but not out of anger—out of something new. Something tender.

Boothill froze, his heart skipping a beat. The world had once taken everything from him—his family, his home, everything he held dear. But here, now, was something that felt like a new beginning. The word “Pa-pa” rang in his ears, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had never imagined such a moment, never thought it would come in the wake of all the destruction and vengeance he had pursued.

"You said it..." Boothill muttered, his voice rough. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, were now misted over with something softer. For the first time in years, he felt something akin to peace.

His gaze flicked from the baby to the window, where the stars twinkled above, endless and quiet. He had fought for so long, but maybe, just maybe, this little one was what he needed to remind him of the life he had almost forgotten.

"Pa-pa!" the baby cooed again, and Boothill let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m here, little one. I’ll be here."

It was a vow, but it wasn’t one made from the fury of his past. This vow was different. This one was made for a future, for a family he was determined to protect.

Gepard stood in the nursery, his large frame leaning against the doorframe as he watched his baby sleep in the crib. The weight of his position as Captain of the Silvermane Guards was always with him, but now, in this quiet moment, it seemed almost insignificant compared to the tiny life he had brought into the world.

His eyes softened as the baby stirred slightly, their small hands reaching out as if sensing him in the room. It was then that the baby spoke—barely a whisper, but enough to make his heart stop for a brief moment.

"Buba!"

The word echoed in his mind, and a small, stunned smile spread across Gepard's face. His hand instinctively reached toward the crib, resting on the edge as he leaned down, his heart overflowing with emotion. It was as if the weight of all his responsibilities had suddenly been lifted, replaced by this singular, precious connection.

"Buba!" the baby said again, their voice soft but filled with trust.

Gepard’s breath caught. He had spent so much of his life focused on the welfare of others, on the grand ideals of justice and protection, but now, as he looked at this tiny soul, he realized that this was where his true duty lay. He would protect them at all costs, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

"Yes, my little one," Gepard murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Buba’s here. Always."

He carefully scooped the baby into his arms, cradling them close. For the first time in a long while, Gepard felt something other than the weight of duty—he felt love, deep and unyielding. And as he rocked the baby gently in his arms, he knew he would fight for them, not as a captain or a warrior, but as a father.

I'm gonna be sick because of this 🥺😕💖😭

[adieutristana]

comforting reader scenarios; arcane women x fem! reader

finally home and spending time with family for the first time in a while. i started writing this while still at my dorm though, and wanted to finish it <3 i’ll get to my requests once break is over!

summary: scenarios of arcane women comforting their girlfriend.

characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn.

tags/warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, insecurity, nightmares (mel), smoking (sevika), crying, fluff, hurt/comfort

men dni.

jinx;

hosting at the last drop during a holiday weekend was no easy task, you knew that. but still, you needed extra hours. you needed extra money. so you picked up the shifts.

which you were now regretting more than you had any decision in a while. you wished that you could rewind time, and slap your past self across the face. tell her to put her sanity over a few more hours of pay.

you had just seated your final reservation of the night, and as soon as you got back to the host stand, your hands scrambled to untie your apron and slam it down on the desk. you couldn’t even be bothered to hang it up on its hook. you were overstimulated, stressed, burnt-out. you were exhausted.

your coworker grimaced seeing you, but was evidently concerned. “you gonna be okay getting home?” they asked, a hand on their hip. “i can give you a ride.”

“no, it’s fine. i’ll find my way.” you grumbled, grabbing the last of your belongings before swinging the door open. you knew exactly where you were headed: jinx’s hideout. you turned on your heel, keeping your head down as you sped through the bumpy streets of zaun. your destination wasn’t far, but the way in which your hands were trembling and you couldn’t focus your vision, you didn’t want to face the risk of any more human interaction.

you reached jinx’s hideout after about ten minutes of walking, and stepped in quietly. you saw blue braids, your girlfriend’s back facing you as she tinkered with what was presumably a new explosive device. typical jinx. she turned around in her chair as soon as the sound of your arrival registered, and she ran to give you a tight hug.

“how was work, toots?” she asked, her dark lips curled in a smile. “i missed ya, y’know.” she chimed, her arms still holding you close to her. you sighed and released the day’s worth of tension from your body, finally feeling safe enough to do so.

“it was hell. honest.” you began, before you felt a full tirade coming on. “i mean- i got yelled at for the simplest things. not having a table for a party of thirteen, having to consult with my manager for something, anything and everything. it’s… it’s like i couldn’t do anything right today.” you spoke, your voice faltering. you felt tears welling in your eyes, and you felt jinx’s grasp around you grow tighter.

“(y/n). hey. it’s okay.” jinx replied, her voice softer than most times. one arm stayed in place, and her other hand came up to gently cradle your cheek. “customers are awful. they always are. but you’re a damn good hostess, and you were doing your best! it’s just one of those weekends. they feel like they can do or say whatever they want…” jinx trailed off with a slight scowl in her voice. you knew that jinx was never particularly the best with choosing soothing words for you, but her odd and sometimes aggressive way of reassuring you did work.

your girlfriend softly grasped your shoulders to sit you down, then opted to grab one of your hands. her slender, calloused fingers slotting themselves between your own. she offered her shoulder wordlessly for you to lay your head on, which you accepted. you let out a sharp exhale through your nose. a single tear fell.

“i shouldn’t have taken those shifts. holiday weekend, back to back.” you scoffed. “money be damned. i’m never interacting with the public again.”

“no problem with that.” jinx remarked, trying to lighten the mood a little. her free hand came up to run over your side, up and down, up and down, gently and repeatedly. an oddly soothing pattern. “you could just stay here with me forever, y’know.”

you gave a soft chuckle in reply. “yeah. that’d be nice. you and me, not needing anything else.”

vi;

tonight was just one of those nights. you were getting better, you thought. you had been consistently seeing a therapist and airing out every little ugly detail about your life, your past, yourself to a complete stranger. and it was helping. you had a girlfriend who adored you, body and soul. who would do absolutely anything in her power just to see a hint of a smile on your face.

but right now, with your hair clutched in your hands and hot tears streaming down your face, your heart beating in your chest at record speed, you couldn't think about any one thing.

there was no rhyme or reason, you just felt horrible. about yourself, about your life, about everything. it was as if all of that progress you had worked so hard for was completely undone. dull and noid. you swore you could feel yourself dropping deeper and deeper, your shallow breaths growing quicker, until you heard the door of your apartment swing open.

"hey, babe, sorry i'm late, i got held u-" vi stopped dead in her tracks in front of you, taking in your state for a split second before her expression turned to one of unease. "oh, my god- (y/n), what happened? come on, talk to me." she breathed out, calloused, bandaged hands coming to grasp at your shoulders.

your girlfriend’s grip did ground you slightly, but you still couldn’t get a word out. you could only focus on trying to breathe; in, out, in through your nose, out through your mouth. vi’s worried expression didn’t falter, but her hold on you did loosen as she noticed your breathing grow more steady.

vi now sat next to you and swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to your side. she brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, and tried to soothe you in the most gentle tone possible. “hey. hey, now. it’s okay. i’m here. i’m not goin’ anywhere, ya hear?” she whispered. “tell me what’s wrong.”

you just gulped, and hastily reached up to swipe away the tears on your cheeks. “nothing… nothing happened.” you said, voice still shaky. your gaze was downcast, focusing on some odd stain on the carpet. “i just feel so hopeless.” you blurted out. you just didn’t know how else to phrase it.

“i’ve done so much, gone to so many appointments and faced myself in the mirror. faced my flaws, my past, i’ve done some rough work.” you explained. “but i feel like it’s all for nothing. if i’ve gone and done all of that, why do i feel like complete shit right now?” you muttered under your breath. your shoulders were tensing back up, and more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the next minute.

the girl next to you took your chin with her forefinger and thumb, gently guiding your gaze to meet her own. “(y/n), look at me.” she said.

you looked at her, eyes shaky and unsure.

“you don’t feel like this every day, do ya?” she asked. “i… no. i don’t.” you replied.

“there you go, then. no amount of therapy or coping or self-analysis is gonna take away the fact that some days just fucking suck.” vi’s arm was still draped around you, holding you in close to her and now slightly rocking you.

“you’ve got problems. we all do. they’re not just gonna go away overnight, some of them probably won’t ever. but ya have to keep trying, right?” she asked, prompting you to slowly nod. you sniffled, and whispered, “it just feels so pointless.”

“i know it does, but it isn’t. you know you haven’t done all of that for nothing. one shitty moment doesn’t erase all the hard work you’ve put in.” vi affirmed. she accentuated her words with a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. “you’re one of the strongest people i know.”

you finally let yourself go and lay your head on her shoulder, wordlessly accepting your girlfriend’s comfort. her grip around you only tightened, and while you couldn’t see her, you knew her well enough to know by now that she was smiling at the sight of you.

mel;

mel loved sharing a bed with you. it was so peaceful, so intimate in a way. you had her in your arms facing you, her head buried in the crook of your neck taking deep, relaxed breaths.

until you shot up from your slumber with a sharp gasp after having a nightmare. enforcers. your family. you hadn’t done anything, and neither had your family, but there the enforcers were in that dream, taking them from you. ignoring your choked sobs and loud pleas to just let them go.

it was probably a side effect of growing up in the undercity, and witnessing that exact scenario more times than you could keep track of. even though it wasn’t real, it still horrified you.

you tried to steady your breathing as to not wake the woman next to you, still deep asleep. but the second you saw her begin to stir, you knew you were in trouble. mel did not take kindly to her sleep being disturbed.

she sat up slowly, looking around and one hand coming to rub at her eyes, then her eyes met yours. there’s no malice or annoyance in her gaze, only concern. “…what has you up this late?”

“just a nightmare, mel. don’t worry about it.” you sighed, voice dropping and trying to convince her to just go back to sleep. it wasn’t until you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around you, though, and pull you close to mel’s chest that you realized she wasn’t planning on letting this go.

“no, talk to me.” mel demands, although sleep is still evident in her voice. now it’s obvious that she isn’t going to let this go, and although you feel guilty for disturbing her rest, you’re grateful that she’s not angry with you.

you let out a deep breath, and begin twiddling with your thumbs to keep your racing mind at bay. mel still has you held close to her, one hand cradling the back of your head. “it was about my family. i had a nightmare that enforcers… took them. threw them in jail without a trial. even though they’ve done nothing wrong.”

having been brought up in zaun, this was a fate that was unfortunately not uncommon. a slim possibility for you, one of the more ‘respected’ families of the undercity, but the chances were never zero. you were unsure as to why you were suddenly having nightmares about this, though.

silence hung in the air for a moment, the only sounds in the room being your girlfriend’s slow breathing and rain pattering against the windows. “…that won’t happen, love. i wish i could tell you that our enforcers are a just group of people, but they are not. but you know all i am doing to try and fix this… your family is safe. i can promise you that.”

mel’s words were genuine, but in reality, there was only so much comfort she could offer. piltover as a city was corrupt; there was no denying that. but at the very least, you could rest assured that she was trying. mel cared- not just because they were your family, but because she had a heart. that’s more than you could say for some of the other council members.

you reached to intertwine your fingers with hers, and let your eyes slowly slip shut again. “you’re safe with me, darling. a nightmare is just that; a nightmare.” mel whispered, her voice like honey, sweet and smooth. “let’s get you back to sleep. i’ll be here all night.” she pressed a final lingering kiss to your temple, before you fell back into a deep slumber.

sevika;

being one of silco’s henchmen, it wasn’t uncommon for you to arrive home with an array of injuries. bruises, scrapes, cuts, sometimes even stab wounds if it was particularly bad. most of the time, you couldn’t place exactly where each injury had come from, only that it hurt like hell. but you were used to it by now, and working for silco both paid well and earned you protection. so you couldn’t exactly complain.

this time, though, you weren’t only hurt, you were exhausted. you were honestly considering marching (albeit weakly) to silco’s office and telling him you’re resigning, effective immediately. your legs felt like they were going to fall off. you undoubtedly had a few bruised ribs and had suffered more severe injuries than ever before. thankfully, nothing seemed to be broken, but there was only so much you could take.

you swung the door to your shared apartment open, seeing sevika already sat down. you slumped into the beat-up couch next to your girlfriend, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh. what to do? you had lazily patched yourself up, but you were still in considerable pain. you looked around the room, scanning all of your belongings from years of working for the eye of zaun. could it all have been for nothing? all of your hard work- was zaun, was silco going to chew you up and spit you out?

“(y/n)? took ya a while to get back. everything fine?” sevika asked. she swung one leg over the other and took out a cigar, grabbing her box of matches from a side table. you tried to muster up the most chipper tone of voice possible, and replied, “yep, i just got a bit held up on the way back. all is well.” you even tried to cement it by giving her the best smile you could manage.

sevika gave you one of her knowing side-glances, an eyebrow raised as she lit her cigar. “spit it out.”

god damn it.

if there was one thing your girlfriend was, it was observant. she knew your mannerisms, your habits and your demeanor well enough to know when something was wrong. honestly, sometimes, you thought sevika might know you better than you know yourself.

“sev, it’s nothing, really. don’t worry about me.” you tried to reassure her, a smile cemented on your face to really sell it. yet she still saw right through you. “(y/n), somethin’s up. i can tell. come on, dove, you can talk to me.”

you weighed your options for a minute. you were scared, if you were being honest with yourself. you knew that sevika was frighteningly loyal to silco, and saying that you were thinking of leaving could anger her. maybe provoke her in some way. but another thing you knew about your girlfriend was that once she started something, she wasn’t going to let go of it until it was resolved.

“i got beat up. badly, worse than i ever have… i don’t know if i have it in me to keep doing this, sevika.” you muttered. oh, god, your voice was shaking. “everything hurts. i’m exhausted. i’ve seen so much, and i don’t know if i’m strong enough.”

sevika sat in contemplation for a moment- a moment that felt like hours. she took a long drag of her cigar, exhaling as she talked. “that comes with the job, darlin’.” you felt your heart drop into your stomach. sevika was right. now you seemed like a traitor to silco and weak. “but, we all have our limits. you’ve done all you can, and you’ve done a damn good job at it. now, i’m not gonna tell you that you should leave, because i don’t want you to. i’m selfish like that.” your girlfriend chuckled.

you let her words sink in. you swung your legs around to be on top of her lap, laying your head down on the arm of your couch. sevika brought an arm up to rest her hand on one of your thighs, gently squeezing in reassurance. “do what you think will be best, okay? i’ll still be here. always will.” she smiled. “but… what about silco?” you muttered.

sevika barked out a laugh at that, which slightly startled you. your eyes blown wide and your form jumping. “silco’ll be fine. he has his other people… like me.” she said. sevika gently pulled you to sit your entire body in her lap, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “i’ll be here, regardless.” she looked at one of the half-assed bandages on your ankle, blood seeping through. “let’s get ya properly patched up, okay?”

caitlyn;

you sat in one of the many libraries on academy grounds, countless papers sprawled out in front of you on a desk. all of the words and countless problems needing solving had lost all meaning. your final exams were exactly a week from today, but your head was fuzzy. you couldn’t process anything. none of the study methods you were using stuck.

“shit.” you muttered to yourself, grasping your head in your hands against the desk. you lifted your head up to take in your surroundings: countless other students at tables, some in groups and some by themselves. what they all had in common was that they all seemed to be getting something done. that was a lot more than you could say for yourself.

you groaned out loud, disregarding the fact that others would absolutely hear over the loud silence of the facility. you gathered your papers, stacking them the neatest you could before shoving them in your messenger bag. you pulled out your chair, not bothering to push it back in, and turned on your heel to exit the library. god damn it.

you hastily made your way to your apartment, trying to keep your chin up as you passed other students of the district. you couldn’t let yourself crack. you couldn’t let on that anything was wrong. as you inserted your key into the lock of your apartment and turned the doorknob, the smell of dinner immediately hit you. was caitlyn… cooking?

“i’m home!” you called out, trying to search for caitlyn in the kitchen. you spotted her tall figure, her back turned to you and arms busy. you hung your bag up on a hook, and sat down on the living room couch with a dramatic huff. caitlyn turned her head to look at you for a moment, abandoning whatever she was busy stirring to come sit next to you.

when you looked over to see your girlfriend, you jumped the slightest bit. her footsteps were so quiet, it was startling at times. you never knew exactly where she learned how to do that.

“how was studying?” she asked, reaching to twirl a strand of your hair around her index finger. you sucked your breath in, and hung your head low in defeat. “well… i didn’t exactly get much done.” you murmured.

“i didn’t get anything done, actually.” you corrected yourself, voice a bit more clear this time. “i’ve got this… this mental block right now. i don’t know what it even is. i feel like every time i look at a piece of material to study, my mind just goes blank. whoosh, like i haven’t been studying this shit for months in class.” your hands were clutching your pants, trying to find any type of temporary relief. you were so utterly disappointed in yourself.

“what now, then?” your girlfriend asked, still absentmindedly playing with your hair. the smell of what you could now identify as some kind of pasta filled the room. “what do you mean, ‘what now?’” you asked. it wasn’t a quip, but a genuine question. as much as you loved caitlyn, she could be confusing from time to time.

“i mean, what are you going to do now? sulk? rest?” she clarified, her blue eyes gazing directly at- or through you. it wasn’t meant to be intimidating, but caitlyn had that effect. you took your hands off your lap and crossed your arms over your chest, gaze still downcast. “i don’t know. i’ll try again tomorrow, but right now, i don’t know.”

caitlyn moved her hand to gently tap your jaw, signaling that she wanted you to look at her. you obliged, her eyes still piercing- but a bit softer now. “do you know how many days like that i had as a girl, sat with my instructor? completely clueless as to how to solve the problem in front of me?” she asked, her tone soft and the slightest bit playful. she scoffed as she recalled the memory.

“that’s part of the reason i decided not to attend the academy. of course, i had expectations to live up to, which played a major factor in my decision. but student life hasn’t ever been for me.” caitlyn said, settling her hands down and opting to rest her head on your shoulder. navy strands lightly tickled your neck.

“what you do is admirable, dearest. one odd day doesn’t make that less true.” she smiled. “you’re still such a hard-working, smart person.. you just need to rest.” she accentuated her statement by pressing her lips to your cheek, ever so gently. fleeting.

you gently smiled at her words and leant into the kiss. you didn’t have a clue as to how she managed, but caitlyn somehow always had the right words to say. you remembered the pasta cooking, though, and gasped. “shit- cait, should you be leaving that unattended?”

your girlfriend lightly chuckled. “the sauce needed to sit for a few moments. all is well, i promise.”

[sttoru]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

⟣ sypnosis. you had been in your first ever relationship with suguru for a couple months now. neither of you have taken your relationship to the next level; suguru was extremely patient and never brought the topic of sex up until you one day decide you were ready.

⟣ note. first fic for my event :3 i spent way too much time on this fic so it turned out very detailed, long, romantic and fluffy. i hope you all enjoy and appreciate it teehee. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk ! wc: around 6.1k

⟣ tags. soft dom!geto suguru x virgin!female reader. fluff + smut. slow burn. age gap (reader 20-ish, suguru around 29/30), little talks about insecurity, loss of virginity, breast play, edging, teasing, fingering, lots of praise, dirty talk, size difference!, p in v — unprotected (dont b like reader and use protection please), creampie, aftercare, suguru’s really romantic and just a softie for u, suguru being a good ‘dad’ to mimiko and nanako and teeny tiny bits of him secretly being a pervert.

never in a million years had suguru expected his girlfriend to be so upfront about such a big, personal decision. the thought of having you say those words had never crossed his mind.

“can you repeat that for me, sweetheart?”

could you blame him for asking you to clarify the words you’ve uttered? that man has seen you as an oblivious and innocent woman ever since the start of your relationship. of course, unbeknownst to him, your thoughts were anything but that.

you may be a virgin, but your mind was a place for the most lewd and nasty thoughts. it’s just that you’ve been scared of being intimate with a man—it’s frightening, especially when having heard the many online stories about how badly it could hurt. some say that such descriptions were over exaggerating, however your inexperience still lead you to believe everything you’ve read about the topic.

and then you started dating an older man named suguru. you’ve met him by chance at a mall in kyoto and he was the first one who approached the other. you remember how suguru politely asked you for some advice regarding what type of presents he should get for ‘two teenage girls’. of course, you agreed to helping him out and that’s how you two eventually ended up brainstorming about possible ideas in a cozy café.

once seated, chosen drinks in both your hands, you asked the man whether the gifts were meant for his daughters. somehow, that’s the first connection the neurones in your brain had made once suguru told you about the two teenagers he was picking out presents for.

you remember it vividly; the sweet, gentle sound of the laughter that accounted as your answer, the eyes of the then stranger looking rather nostalgic as they stared into the liquid in his cup. suguru responded vaguely; “i guess you could say that, yes.”

that little ‘date’—if you could call it that—ended on a wholesome note. suguru thanked you for your time and made sure that you safely got into the train you needed to take home. he did want to offer you a car ride, however he kept that question to himself since he knew that no woman would voluntarily agree to be taken home by a stranger. even if suguru had the purest of intentions.

there were a couple more dates that followed after that one; all where you both gradually got to know each other better. you’ve found out so much about suguru—the details about his own life being both fascinating and sad at the same time. likewise, suguru had also learned much about you. he always shows great interest in what you tell him, even if it’s a minuscule detail. he remembers it all as well—a feature which caused you to feel funny things in your stomach.

you realised you were catching feelings for that mysterious yet sweet and loving man; it was inevitable. the way he makes you giggle, his respectful and easygoing manner of speaking, the slight touches you two shared on accident.. all of it added to your little crush.

however, you didn’t actually think suguru was falling for you too. you only met up for a few times, plus, you seem out of his league—both due to your age gap and difference in the things you’re pursuing at the time. you were in college, trying to get your degree whilst he already had a job as a powerful leader of an organisation and was trying to achieve one of many goals with them.

there’s not a chance he’d like you, right?

wrong. you were confessed to a couple weeks after your first meeting and have been in a relationship for over 4 months now. it still felt like a dream; having your first boyfriend be such a gentleman. it truly felt like you already met the love of your life whenever he was near.

suguru’s been nothing but sweet and caring to you, has never asked you to engage in any sexual activities nor even ever dared to touch you in places you haven’t consented to. the furthest you’ve gone in terms of intimacy in those four months, were make-out sessions. just some tongue action here and there—adding sprinkles of neck kisses and hickeys.

there were times where you wanted to let things escalate, however you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to ask your lover. suguru wasn’t the person to decide your feelings for you either—if there was no verbal consent coming from your lips, he’s not going any further. even if he wanted to as well.

you were grateful that suguru was that willing to wait for you, no matter how long it might take. not only were you anxious of the possible pain the sex would bring, but it was partially due to the fact that your lover was much more experienced in that field.

what if you were lacking? what if it wasn’t satisfactory enough for him and he’d eventually leave you for it? it’s obvious that suguru wasn’t the type of man to actually do that, however you couldn’t stop the many possibilities from running free in your brain.

your change of mind was rather spontaneous; it was today when you suddenly came up with your final decision. you were staying over at suguru’s, the sun was out and he was sitting on his balcony, reading a book whilst sipping on his coffee. what caught your eye was his bare back and the muscles which were on display to you.

suguru was shirtless and the seams of light were making his skin glisten—the view making your own body hot and bothered. you bit your lip and approached your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before kissing his neck. that skin-to-skin contact made you sure of your decision; you needed him. in more ways than one.

that’s how you ended up saying what you said. the statement left suguru baffled since you uttered it in his ear out of the blue. he couldn’t deny one thing however; the idea certainly did send a shiver of excitement down his spine.

“i said,” you repeat with a little mischievous grin, leaning in closer to your lover once he turned around to face you properly—as if searching for any hints that your words were indeed not his imagination, “i wanna lose my virginity to you.”

it wasn’t. you actually said it—the words that would take your relationship a step further. although, suguru couldn’t help but wonder where your sudden decision came from. his hands found their way to yours and he held onto them like they were two delicate flowers.

“i’m happy to hear that, though i’m curious,” your lover starts off carefully as he places chaste yet soft kisses on your palms, “why so sudden?”

you shrug nonchalantly like you didn’t feel that twinge of nervousness in the back of your mind as you felt suguru’s lips on your skin. ‘it really was happening now, was it?’—that kind of feeling was the cause of your subtle anxiousness.

“well, ehh— you just looked good.. sitting there.. i guess.” you mumble, voice trailing off in embarrassment whilst your eyes darted around the balcony in attempt to avoid suguru’s gaze. your flustered expression and adorable confession makes him laugh gently. it was not a mocking laugh at all—more of an amused one;

“just when i thought you couldn’t get any cuter..” the long-haired man muses, the locks of his bangs grazing ever so slightly against your hands as he keeps holding them, “you never fail to surprise me, do you know that?”

suguru had a way with words that made you weak in the knees. or maybe it’s simply because he’s shirtless and kissing your palms so romantically. you don’t know which one it was.

“but, love,” suguru continues carefully as he stands up, your eyes following his as he towers over you, “are you a hundred percent sure? i don’t want to do anything you aren’t comf—“

“yes.” your answer cut your boyfriend off and he’s left in shock once more. your eyes were filled with determination, yet the faint glint of nervousness in them didn’t escape suguru’s sight. you’ve given your verbal consent and are even the first one to suggest the idea— what more could he ask of you?

there hung a silence between you two, the breeze blowing through suguru’s dark locks making him look even more majestic than he already was. you had no doubt about it; today was going to be the day. it had to be.

“then, if you’d let me have this,” his low voice sounded more sensual than it had ever been as his hand found its place on your cheek, fingertips rubbing against your ear, thumb softly pressing onto your skin—

a slow and romantic kiss followed straight afterwards. it had caught you slightly off guard, even when knowing fully well that this was what you were longing for.

his lips moved in tandem against yours, the soft touch making you feel certain emotions that you hadn’t even thought existed. this man whom you called your lover had never been unable to expose you to new sensations. and soon, he’ll grant you another one. a much pleasurable one.

one arm circled your waist, the other held up, hand on the back of your head to deepen the passion-filled kiss you shared. his lips parted your lightly trembling ones, the tips of your tongues attentively rubbing against one another as if to test the waters; was it fine to go further? are we actually doing this?

you were. it was set in stone as your throat formed soft noises of satisfaction, shaky breaths being exchanged by the two lovers on the balcony—not one of you realising that the weather was changing in the background. the sun was setting, creating the perfect mood for the situation as you were still engrossed by each other’s moves and touches.

it was only for the sake of catching your breath that you had pulled away. your cheeks felt hot, as did your entire body which was still pressed against suguru’s—chest to chest. the proximity was one you both had enjoyed many moments before, however this instant was unlike any other. you both knew as you stared at each other in silence, your quick breaths doing the talking instead.

“will you let me..” the voice of which you have grown to adore spoke to you, the owner grasping your attention once more by holding onto your hand. suguru’s fingers smoothly slid across your skin until they found the puzzle they were meant to complete—that being the gaps between your own fingers. once your hands were tightly intertwined, the man finishes his sentence;

“will you let me love you?”

his face was still close to yours as he uttered those beautiful words to you, warm breath lightly fanning the thin strands of hair on your cheeks to the side, lips subconsciously trying to brush against yours once more. but, they could wait. they could wait until the agreement leaves your mouth.

“of course.” the answer escapes before you could even register it properly. this makes suguru smile against your lips as he captured them in another sweet kiss. he muttered a small ‘thank you’ and then swept your legs off the floor—strong arms placed under your thighs to hold you up against his body whilst the hungry kisses continue.

suguru doesn’t know how he got there; carrying you over to his bed, settling you down onto the soft mattress, his body caging yours underneath him, eyes fluttering over every detail of your exposed skin. he hadn’t had you like this ever before; he hadn’t had you in his bed for a reason as sinful as this, only ever for cuddles or sleep.

“you’re beautiful.” the dark-haired man whispers as he carefully takes off the clothing covering your figure—the gorgeous skin his hands still have yet to explore. suguru can’t remember the last time he has treated anyone like this; like a treasure he’s had the honour to find and keep to himself. there hasn’t been a single woman in his life that he’s cared for this much—you’re the only one capable of mellowing him and his heart.

“stunning,” another compliment; another breath spent to praise you. your lover’s fingers teased the edges of your bra, lips kissing down your collarbone and towards the centre of your chest—each touch being done with precision. your bra became undone a second later and you let the straps fall of your arms, all the way until your breasts were fully revealed.

suguru’s breath hitches, mouth forming more saliva than in any previous instants, the liquid being pushed down his throat with a gulp. you didn’t have the chance to feel conscious of yourself in a moment like this; the dim light of the bedside lamp shone on suguru’s face, his lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva whilst his gaze was lingering on the new sight in front of him—he was utterly obsessed.

“may i?” his hands were already reaching out for the plump flesh and they came in touch once you nodded shyly. his palms were warm as they kneaded your breasts and his fingers brushed against your nipples, which made you whimper from how sensitive they were now that someone else has finally touched them.

suguru took notice of your reaction and put pressure on both small buds once again, thumbs rubbing your areolas in circular motions, “that good, princess?”

“mhmm— y-yes,” you mutter through a moan. your body was pushed further onto the mattress as your lover put more of his weight on you, your entire chest area getting covered by licks and kisses, slow and deliberate ones that left you yearning for more. suguru’s eyes gazed up at yours for consent once his parted lips hovered just above your sensitive nipples, his breath on them alone making you squirm already.

with another nod, suguru wasted no time taking one nipple into his warm mouth—wetting it with his saliva as his tongue slid around the area. his long fingers squeezed, twisted and pulled on your other nipple to give you both stimulations at once.

“mm, so good.” his muffled voice caused goosebumps to appear on your skin. suguru slowly lets his lips travel across your tits, sucking on them, even kissing down the curves until he reaches your torso. he gives that area the same amount of love and attention whilst your fingers were tangled around his smooth, long hair. suguru clearly seemed to enjoy the sensations; he let out small moans and hums against your bare skin to indicate that you should continue playing and tugging at his locks.

his tongue abruptly came to a stop right above the waistline of your panties—the barrier he was about to reach past for the first time. the hesitation was visible in his body language, however his fingers eventually tugged at the fabric, preparing to take it off.

your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched suguru slowly pull the last piece of cloth away. your thighs pressed together on instinct, stopping your panties from exposing your bare cunt.

“should i stop?” suguru asks with a raised eyebrow, fingers pulling away from your underwear now that he’s seen you close your legs. you didn’t want him to stop—it’s just the nerves that made your body move on its own command;

“please— no,” you shake your head, biting your lip as you swallowed your own saliva out of pure desire. you craved him now that it’s come this far, “need you. need you so bad, suguru.”

those words caused suguru’s brain to shut down. any irrelevant thoughts were thrown out of the window; the only thing his mind was telling him to do, was to take care of your needs. your body was laid out on his bed—trusting eyes looking up at his in anticipation, pretty hands grasping onto his sheets like it’d calm you down.

“i’m all yours, sweetheart.” suguru sighs, fingertips slightly shaking as he pulls your panties down to your ankles, eyes pausing on the revelation. to say that suguru was simply rendered speechless, was an understatement. that man was on the verge of letting loose of any self-control and just dive his face right between your thighs, eating you out like he’s fantasised of doing for a while now.

“fuck.” your boyfriend closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself before opening them to smile down at you—the handsome smile that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him, “i’ll be careful. i promise.”

naturally, you nodded along. you’ve built up enough trust between one another during the past few months to let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. the palm of his hands patted your thighs slightly before spreading them apart, once again showing your glistening folds, a slight wetness to them from your own arousal.

suguru couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. he’d already have devoured your dripping cunt if it wasn’t for his self-control. but, it was your first time. he couldn’t rush into things just yet.

“thank you, baby.” the dark-haired man whispered under his breath. he was showing his gratitude for the sight you allowed him to see—a sight only he had ever seen before. the only man to be able to witness the beauty before him. that fact alone made his eyes darken in lust ever so slightly.

his fingers carefully slid across your vulva, your bodily fluid coating the skin which makes him shiver and his fingers get bolder. the cute sounds that filled his ears were only making this even better for him.

the way your hips bucked up slightly into his touch—just asking for suguru to take you right then and there—was driving him insane. every vein in his body felt like it could pop with how much he was restraining his own self from acting out of line. his finger easily slid into the little hole and suguru almost couldn’t believe it; your pussy was clamping down on his finger, your insides tightly wrapped around him to the point that even he wouldn’t know if his dick would fit in.

“hnnngh, suguru, please— wan’ your cock already,” that dirty sounding sentence was one he didn’t expect to hear from a virgin. it made him shake his head with a small, delighted chuckle; you really never failed to surprise him.

“i know you do,” suguru purrs, pressing kisses against the curves of your tits whilst another finger of his joined to stretch your pussy out properly, “but i need to prep you enough if you wanna take my cock. can you be patient for me, sweetheart?”

“m’kay. gonna try..” his fingers pumped in and out of you, the feeling of them curling up deep inside you made your walls squeeze against them. you’ve played with yourself before, of course, however it was then that you discovered that nothing could ever compare to the real thing: suguru’s long and slightly girthy fingers.

just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better, you felt a third finger—not inside you--but on your clit, rubbing the small bundle of nerves like you could’ve never done to yourself. suguru was so precise and exact with his actions which showed his experience. that’s another reason of why you’ve put all your trust in him. getting your virginity taken by a sweet, older and experienced man was probably ten times better than losing it to any guy your age, who were probably only out for sex.

suguru was there to make love to you.

your back arched once you felt suguru’s fingers increase their pace, the wet and squelchy sounds echoing through the room as they got louder the more your pussy got played with, his thumb almost overstimulating your clit to the point of release already—that’s how superb your lover’s hand movements were.

“no, no. can’t have you cum on my fingers like that.” you whine once you felt suguru take his fingers back the same moment you were about to reach your first orgasm by someone else’s hands. the older man smirks at this and kisses you on the lips, pulling away slowly with your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it lightly flop back into place as he lets go; “i wanna have you cum together with me, okay?”

you couldn’t refuse such a romantic request, thus you nod. suguru smiles back at you once more before his hands move to take off his sweatpants, tossing the piece of clothing to the side. your eyes widened as you were propped on your elbows, gaze lingering on the massive bulge formed at the crotch area, his boxers not hiding much of the shape.

once the underwear was off as well—that’s when you realised that your underlying anxiousness was not for nothing. suguru’s cock sprung free, it was slightly curved near his pink tip, drops of pre-cum flowing down the length. you haven’t ever seen a dick in real life, only ever on the internet, so this had left you stunned. you didn’t know what the average size was for a man, but there’s one thing you knew for sure: suguru was definitely way above the average size.

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he teased, his hand absentmindedly pumping his cock to the sight of your naked body underneath him. suguru didn’t even know that he started doing that in front of you; it was out of pure instinct. he couldn’t hide the excitement in his body, his shaft twitching in his hand as if it desperately wanted to feel your tight cunt around it.

“uhm, s-suguru..” you stammer a bit, biting your lip as your eyes followed his hand motions which got faster once your sweet voice called out to him. something about you looking a tad bit intimidated by his size made him want to destroy your insides to mush—have you beg him to fuck you as he bullies his whole length into your poor, small cunt.

“i know, i know..” suguru reassures you, free hand giving you a few consoling head pats, “i’ll try to make it as less painful as possible, okay?”

you hum and watch how your lover settles between your legs, spreading them enough to kneel before you, upper body bending forward to place soft pecks on your forehead; he was encouraging and preparing you more in his own way.

your arms instantly wrapped around his back, sweaty palms set underneath his shoulder blades—you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, just waiting on that moment. that feeling you’ve been craving, yet also have been avoiding.

you waited for a bit, however the only sounds heard and sensations felt were the slight dent in the mattress near one side of your body, the bed creaking faintly. suguru was leaning on side of his body, one arm stretched out to open a drawer, apparently searching for a condom.

once you realised what he was doing, you shook your head and tapped his back twice to regain suguru’s attention. his gaze immediately flickered over to yours and his head tilted to the side in curiosity; “i want the full experience—no condom, please.”

his eyes widened at the request. you seemed to be dead serious, eyes glinting determinedly, lips forming a little pout— it was impossible to refuse you, although suguru knew that he had to play the role of the older, more wise and experienced lover in the back of his mind.

he parted his lips to list off the reasons why you should let him use a condom, yet the words died on his tongue. you were impossible to say ‘no’ to. not when you’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“whatever princess wants, princess gets.”

suguru prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock, circling the hole and wetting it more by using a mixture of his pre-cum and your own arousal. you took another deep breath and tried your best to hold tightly onto your boyfriend, arms wrapped tightly around his back with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck—bracing for impact.

“tell me if it hurts too much,” suguru whispers in your ear, leaving one last kiss on your temples before pushing his hips forward, folds stretching out and apart to allow his cock through and into your pussy.

did it hurt like you expected? yes. it most certainly did. maybe even worse than you were prepared for.

“fuck— nhhh, fuckfuckfuck!” you hiss whilst your nails dig into the skin of suguru’s back, probably leaving red marks because of how much you’re clinging onto him—like your life depened on it. that’s quite literally what it felt like to you; body being forced to part and make way for suguru inside you, pussy feeling like it was burning by how big of a stretch it was to fit him in—if he actually would be able to push all of his inches into your tight hole.

“sshh, shh, it’s okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” your lover comforts you the best he could, stilling his movements for a couple seconds before gently slipping his cock further into you. it pained him to see the discomfort written over your face, however you hadn’t made any clear signs of wanting this to come to a halt. in fact, you were encouraging him to continue whenever he stopped at any indication of hurt.

“i can take it.. p-promise,” you manage to moan out. suguru breathed in deeply at your words and nodded, kissing your lips in hopes to distract you from any pain you’re feeling, “you’re too good to me, sweetheart. really.”

both of you exhaled deeply as suguru finally bottomed out, a long minute of reassurance and pushing now behind your back. your eyes had watered up a little, chest heaving as you tried to accommodate to the new feeling inside of you.

“take your time.” suguru utters gently, voice sultry and sweet whenever its directed at you. his lips graze against your cheeks, smothering the area with pecks to take your mind off anything else. the locks of black hair tickle your chin and nose, the hairtie that usually kept a good chunk of his hair in a bun now out of sight.

suguru hadn’t taken anyone’s virginity before and that’s what also made this opportunity special to him. he didn’t know how to thank you with words, so he showed his gratitude throughout his actions; lips kissing your shiny tears away, moving across your face to your forehead and eventually to your own round lips which had formed a cute pout.

you could feel suguru smile against your mouth, his tongue gently tracing the outline of your lips whilst mumbling words of affection and praise; “you’re taking it so well, baby. such a good girl for me— love you so much.”

you giggled lightly at your lover’s appreciative remarks, focusing on returning the kiss instead of the tingling feeling in your lower body. you pulled away after a bit and looked up at him with nothing but pure adoration; “i love you too, suguru.”

if suguru had the ability to freeze time, he’d want to do it during this moment, just to relive this bit over and over. he’s sure that this exact instant will be engraved into his memory for the many years to come.

and once you’ve given him the green light to move, he did it with caution, slowly but surely. his hips moved back and then forwards, girthy cock dragging along your walls at a leisurely pace, but just enough to make your pain transform into pleasure.

suguru’s big hands were placed on your hips, sometimes they’d leave their position to cup your chin and make you face him. he doesn’t want you to look away from his eyes; he’ll think you don’t like this if you do. besides, the thing he loves most about being in the missionary position, is that he’s able to hear how good he’s making you feel whilst looking into your eyes to see your face scrunch up in satisfaction. it’s so romantic and perfect. just like you.

“my little princess is so pretty.” suguru sighs in content and kisses your tears away, thrusting into your tight cunt in a comfortable pace—not too fast but not too slow, “the way you take my cock and still manage to look beautiful while doing it— you’re incredible.”

if the physical pleasure wasn’t enough, his added commentary would certainly be. you moan and whimper phrases that sound like his name over and over again; you didn’t know what else to say as your mind was foggy with the amazing sensations your body was experiencing for the first time. that was fine with suguru since all he wants was to see you enjoy yourself—this moment was for you. everything he did was for you—every thrust, every kiss, every touch.

“nhhg, too good, so good!” you mewl and leave more scratch marks across suguru’s back, ones which he didn’t mind at all. it only served as further proof of this special moment. the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of your insides, puffy folds parted widely to make room for more of his length until it felt like he actually was balls deep.

“mhm—you’re, haah, tight..” the once calm and collected man seemed to let loose of himself the more he felt your cunt swallow him all the way, gripping onto his dick as if you didn’t want to ever let go. suguru grunts and moves down to leave a couple hickeys across your neck, hips non-stop pushing against yours, “don’t think i can last long—fuck, yeah—you feel amazing, baby.”

your eyes roll back as the pleasure seems to build up in your stomach as well. it felt like a coil that threatened to snap at any moment and it’d release another immense wave of pleasure upon breaking. your body was on fire, sweaty and hot, just like suguru’s.

“can you cum with me, princess? can you wait and hold on for me?” he asks, and the questions sound impossible, however you could at least try your best to fulfil his desires. you’d also want nothing more than to reach your peak together with the man you loved.

“okay—mmhh—together.” you nod and your body tenses up, legs subconsciously moving to wrap around suguru’s waist, heels of your feet simultaneously tapping against his lower back along with his hip movements. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out for as your breathing patterns changes, whiney gasps and choked up moans escaping the back of your throat as your clit bumps against his pelvis over and over.

“almost, almost—“ suguru curses through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching while yours did the opposite. your body rocked back and forth and the bed felt like it was shaking along as well. you could tell by the way suguru’s hips rolled against yours that he was close—his eyebrows were furrowed, eyes half-lidded but not closed to still hold contact with yours and his hands clutched onto your waist. all indications of his nearing climax.

“mnph, gonna cum— shit, shit, shit, i’m gonna cum—“ suguru swears under his breath a couple times more before snapping back into reality at the last few seconds. he realised once again that he didn’t have a condom on, so his first rational thought was to pull out and finish himself outside of your body.

you were also nearing your own orgasm, not thinking rationally due to the intensity of the moment, any other thoughts except for the man on top of you were thrown out of the window. you felt suguru try to pull his twitching and throbbing cock out before it could spurt its cum inside of your dripping cunt.

you whined and shook your head, pulling suguru in for a deep kiss while tightening the grasp your legs had around his hips; “w-want to feel you cum in me— want you to fill me up while i finish too.”

suguru’s breath caught in his throat, almost choking on his own saliva from your bold requests. his only rational thought instantly vanished from his mind, now all that’s left was pure love, pleasure and desire. the mental image of his cum spilling and filling your pussy to the brim drove him to the edge.

“all yours, i’m going to give it all to you, princess, yeah? fuck !” both of you relinquished in the feeling of bliss, the warmth and build up reaching its designated ending— the expected waves of pleasure washing over you both. series of soft moans, whimpers and groans filled the room as your pussy was flooded with lots of hot cum.

it was like suguru hadn’t came in years—that’s how incredible that orgasm was experienced by the dark-haired male. the same thing goes for you; your legs were shaking, hips squirming up in aftershocks as you squeezed down on suguru’s cock, quite literally milking him dry of every drop.

“nhh, haah— suguru, love,” your tired and powerless whispers caught his attention immediately. your trembling hand held onto his cheek in attempt to make him look at you. suguru’s fingers curled around your wrist, turning your hand away from his face and to the side so he’ll have access to your palm. his lips left a ticklish trail of pecks on them until his mouth found its home: your lips.

the two of you exchanged deep, exhausted breaths, your boyfriend eventually pulling out and rolling onto his side to cradle you into his arms—hand placed on the back of your head to rest your body against his chest. the following seconds were spent cuddling as you tried to regain composure.

“you were amazing.” suguru sighs, chin resting on top of your head whilst his hand rubbed your bare back in comfort, “are you okay, sweetheart? nothing feeling off or anything of that sorts?”

you shake your head and snuggle up against your lover, content with how things are right now. the afterglow of your little session—of your first time, made you happier than ever. you couldn’t believe it’d feel this good. maybe it’s due to the one you’ve lost your virginity to.

“i’m okay.” you mumble and lift your head up to look suguru in the eyes, faces only inches away from each other. there were no words in the dictionary that could describe how you two felt. the closest word to explain it would be flawless.

“i’m glad, baby. thank you for trusting me.” suguru flashes you a small smile and strokes your head. you stay like that, bodies intertwined in a deep and comfortable hug, whispers of sweet nothings filling your ears and subtle gestures of love making you feel secure.

a couple minutes later and suguru noticed how you started to doze off. he chuckled to himself before pulling away from your hug and standing up, only to have you pout and complain about the loss of warmth.

“i’m just going to clean you up, love.” the soft-spoken man utters to you, laughing quietly at the adorable state you were in at the moment. you were so dependent on him.

“should i prepare us a warm, relaxing bubble bath as well?” he asks, squatting down near the edge of his bed and taking your hands in his, maintaining eye contact as per usual.

“that’d be nice.” you nod and feel your eyelids close slowly, “can’t promise i won’t fall asleep, though.”

suguru lets out a soft exhale through his nose, corner of his lips curling upwards at your little comment. he couldn’t believe he ended up dating such an unbelievably wonderful girl. it’s a blessing in his life of curses.

“i’ll make sure to at least clean you up if you do fall asleep, don’t worry. you’re safe with me.”

you were sure he was an angel sent down from heaven. it was more than clear to you—even if it may not be to many others out there.

“thank you, suguru.” you murmur as your body relaxes into the soft mattress, “i love you.”

“i love you too. more than you could imagine.”

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

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