#claw stretch wc

[lemnnshark]

"Claw Stretch is a tabby wildcat she-cat."

"Hop Scratch is a wildcat she-kit with green eyes."

[rosemist50]

Part two of the Ivypool's Heart cats: All of the wildcats! Spoilers under the cut.

OKAY SO I thought I would have a harder time trying to make SIXTEEN tabby wildcat designs, having never drawn a design for this type of wildcat ever before, but I actually had fun with it. Had to do a couple practice sketches in my notebook to get the overall shape and feel down, but I think they came out alright. I found that image at the very end on a TikTok of someone talking about the European Wildcat (assumed to be the ones in the books), and I thought I'd put it here since it was a big help to me for designing these guys. If you look you'll notice that some of the wildcats look less like the 'pure' European wildcat; Strike Slash with his white underside, Purr Roll's bouncy fur, and some look more; Bound Hunt and Leap Growl. The thought process here was that over time with Galestar's line and other hybridizations the wildcats would become more hybridized, slowly drifting away from the 'pure' European wildcat. Bound Hunt is, in this respect, an example of what a completely non-hybridized wildcat would look like, and follows much of the image from that TikTok.

ANYWAYS, to start we have Tumble Leap and Stalk Purr, the first two wildcats the traveling cats meet, and their three kits Pounce Whisper, Stretch Blink, and Hunt Leap. Then is Bound Hunt, Galestar's second mate. And after is Strike Slash and Wish Stalk, who are also mates, and Claw Stretch and her daughter Hop Scratch. Then the elders Prowl Sleek, Hunt Growl, and Spring Claw. And finally the spirit guides of Whisper Claw for Pounce Whisper, Leap Growl for Tumble Leap, and Purr Roll for Stalk Purr.

[kamitv]

▷ Seven — Explicit Ver.

Synopsis . JJK men fuckin' you right on Valentines day night. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Sukuna x f!reader, & Ino x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, needy men, slight possessiveness, oral sex (m!receiving), pussy slapping, lots of teasing, handjobs, premature orgasms, subby!gojo (kinda? girl idk), soft dom!choso, lovemaking, bondage (nanami), pet names, spitting, praise, a hint of brat taming here 'n there, non-curse au, dirty talk, filth, fluff (if you squint maybe), overstim, etc. / wc . 9k (whoops lol)

A/N: Happy late Valentine’s day ladies 'n gents, hope you enjoy!! I totally didn’t get distracted by playing lads instead of finishing this. Just pretend this was uploaded on time, yeah? Thx. [MDNI]

ᡣ𐭩 Toji Fushiguro

“You can handle it, c’monnn,” Your boyfriend–, no, your fiancé (as of today) grunts out to you in between the mean thrusts he’s gifting you with.

Your fingers are busy clawing at the sheets below and you’ve got the prettiest arch for your lover. With your ass perked up in the air and his fat throbbing cock stretching your cunt so messily wide as drool slobs out your mouth and wets up the bed beneath you. You’d been fucked so dumb already and yet there he was still talking you to filth anyway.

Lopsided scared lips curving up into a smug smirk, Toji brings a hand down against the fat of your ass. Grunting, “There ya’ go, jus’ like that doll, handle that fuckin’ cock. Uhuh…”

You were–or, trying to, anyway. He’s almost always rough like this but shit even after years of being with the man, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the girthy inches of his cock. Hence why your eyes are meeting the back of your skull and you’re babbling soft moans of his name down into the bedding.

“T-Toji,” You mewl sweetly, prompting a mean reel of his toned hips back back back until his sopping tip is left leaving a lewd lil’ kiss against the slit of your cunt. A filthy string of slick droops between the two of you and he tuts. 

“Hm? What’s wrong?” He huffs with a tilt of his head. That large hand of his gives your already hand-marked ass a gentle rub-over while he awaits your shaky reply. Your lashes are busy fluttering and you don’t even continue your statement—instead, you wiggle your hips back, urging for him to push into you again.

It’s then that Toji gets what you want and decides to tease you just a bit more, taking his heavy cock into his hands and moving to tap the head against your left ass cheek. “Whaat?” He utters breathily, almost as if he were mocking you and cooing at you simultaneously, “You want me back inside ya’?”

Nodding dumbly, you just barely angle your head to look back at him and you’re met with his intense hazy verdant gaze. “Mhm,” You grumble to him.

In comes that cocky smile of his and he completely removes his hands from both you and himself, clasping them behind his back for a moment as he redirects his gaze down to what little space remains between his cock and your pulsing hole.

“Heh,” He scoffs shortly and then nods his chin down at the lewdness below him, “Work for it. Lemme see that hand,” Toji directs, to which you hesitate little to shift your hand under your body and in between your legs, fingertips grazing his sensitive balls for half a second before you messily wrap your hand around his cock and tug on him carefully. “Fuuck,” He smiles at your fingers perfectly hugging his throbbing shaft, “That’s a pretty rock I gotcha’, isn’t it?”

Oh, right. How could you have possibly forgotten the reason he’s been acting the way he has all night. You’re engaged now. He proposed earlier that day right after dinner and it was the most romantic thing ever—of course he had you wear that ring for the rest of the night, even while he fucks you stupid.

“Mhmm…” The sound of Toji’s throaty hum makes your cunt shiver in pure need. You carefully angle his cock toward your pussy and catch a glimpse of him drooling a little before he swipes his tongue over his lips and pulls his lower one in between his teeth. Voice dipping an octave lower, “Keep goin’, guide me to her.”

Shifting your knees backwards against the bed and closing the distance between his length and you, you decide only to get back at him for a few seconds and purposefully swipe his angry cockhead up ‘n down against your slobbering folds. You watch the way his eyebrows twist up and his lips part softly, a breathy sound dangerously close to a whine falling from his dampened mouth.

“Don’t do that, baby,” Toji whispers, quickly moving his beefy hands to your hips and pushing himself forward. “Y’know how much I hate bein’...” His jaw falls open as you interrupt his sentence by merely pulling his cock an inch inside you, “...T-Teased-, shit.”

You continue on like that for a while, fucking yourself solely on his plump cockhead and getting drunk off the feeling. Not to mention the heavy grunts Toji releases as you keep control. His eyes are so greedy on you and he simply can't get enough.

Your sappy walls hug the ridges of his cock so snug that it makes his breath grow heavier by the second even though he's not fully inside you. “Fuck." Your fiancé muttered, "Look at you, all perfect jus’ f’me.”

You're slow to retract your hand and focus all your movement into your hips, feeling him give you a lazy roll forward as his cock slots back into your cunt in one slippery motion. Letting off a moan of his name once he casually reaches the hilt of your pussy, “Toji..”

He swallows down whatever pathetic noise had been on the verge of escaping his throat and gives your hips a tender squeeze, “Hmm?”

You forget why exactly you called his name for a hot second due to the way he picks up this slow but deep pace with you—a complete contrast to earlier. Your face turns into the bed for a moment and you whine, “Hnngh…" Lips parting hotly against the sheets, you eventually manage out a muffled, "'Love you."

His cock throbs inside you and you gasp at the way he snaps his hips forward unintentionally, moving his palms to the bed at your sides and leaning down to you, “You love me?” Toji taunts, earning a cute nod of your head. “Yeahhh? Go on, show me then. Show me how much you love this cock right now,” His hand slithers under you and you feel his weight press against you, deepening the aching inches inside you whilst his thick calloused fingertips meet your clit.

He doesn't even have to clarify what he means by that because you're making the filthiest mess around his cock for the nth time of that night and he's smiling over you, “Uhuh. Juuus’ like that, pretty.”

A pitched sound leaves you but you manage to find yourself again somewhere within your high, lifting your head and huffing, “S-Say it back,” Before glancing to him and shooting him a glare, accompanied with the same pout he think he fell in love with, “...A-Asshole.”

Toji rolls his eyes profoundly at that but he smiles, “Yeah, yeah, love you too, brat.” Then you feel yourself collapsing into the mattress as he leans all the way down to your ear, presses a haste kiss against your skin, and then whispers, “Can’t wait t’marry you.”

ᡣ𐭩 Nanami Kento

It's Valentine's day night and yet there you were still having to beg your husband of many years for something. Moaning, “Ken' please.” While you flash your best pleading eyes and stare up at the man.

Ever the gentleman, Nanami merely smiles at you as if he were confused, “Please, what, my love?"

Your brows twist up and you bat your eyelashes at him, glancing down to watch the way he rudely slaps his heavy cock against your cunt again, “Stop teasin’.”

Your overly handsome husband has the audacity to smile at your sudden command, “Oh? But look at you now," He says in that gentle baritone that makes your cunt clench around nothing, "You’re drooling for me..."

You wanted to say something else, y'know, argue and beg him to just fuck you already but when he lifts his cock away from your pussy entirely, all you can do is let out a pathetic whine. The sound prompts a slight spurt of precum from his tip but just to make things a lil' messier, Nanami brings his free hand up to his mouth and your eyes widen as you watch him.

Now, you've always known that your man was a gentleman during the day and a complete freak at night but god does he never fail to make your breath hitch. You watch him with glossy eyes as he spits a wad of saliva onto his finger tips, bring them down to his cockhead, smears the liquid messily over his tip, faintly moans, and then gently thrusts himself right up against your clit.

With a nasty slip against you, Nanami is left panting. His cheeks are flush with a warm shade of pink and you can feel your entire body heating up more and more by the second as he continues to tease you to tears.

You thought he'd stop there and give you what you wanted but no, the moment you moan out his name, he grows the desire to drag all this teasing out even further. Dragging his cock back against your heat and smearing his pre all over your sloppy folds, Nanami groans.

"My gorgeous girl," He murmurs to you. Though, you're not sure if it was to you or your cunt. You believe it's the later as he takes his unoccupied hand and uses his thumb and index to spread the lips of your pussy open—following this action up with another lift and mean slap of his cock, a slick wet sound entering the air as he does so.

Your back arches up a little at that and it becomes apparent to you for the first time in a while since you'd gotten to this point with your husband that, well, he's got your hands tied up over your head. You couldn't reach down and urge is cock inside you even if you wanted to (despite the bondage being your idea).

So, there you are, legs spread open like some slut-, his slut, panting and huffing at how badly you're aching for him to be inside you. Your cunt tensing around nothing with every heavy thwack of his cock and wad of spit he dribbles down onto the filthy exposure.

It's not until Nanami rolls his dripping tip around your clit in taunting circles that you start genuinely losing your mind. Your hands squirm to move at the sensation and your husband remains almost as composed as ever while watching your face twist up into pleasure. Your lashes are batting and you're releasing a soft string of moans, whispering his name, and lifting your hips in desperation.

To which he simply presses a hand down to your hip and pins you to the bed. Then he stares dead into those loving eyes of yours and starts swatting his cock head left 'n right against your twitching clit. Oh now he's just being mean.

You start pouting and open your mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a clear moan bubbling out your throat as Nanami drags his cock down, fucks himself into his fist against you, and plunges only the tip in and out and in and out of you.

"Ken please," You repeat, "Just put it in."

"I am, aren't I?" Nanami hums with a kind smile on his face.

"All of it," You grunt, trying to lifting your hips again but failing as he shoves you right back down.

Scoffing, "My wife's demanding today, isn't she?"

"You've been doing this for hours," You bite back with a bratty eye roll.

"Oh please, now she's just being dramatic. What do you say, hun?" He redirects to ask your cunt, "Think I just give her what she wants?" His cock rubs right in between your folds and you can feel the veins decorating his length throbbing. "Should I stuff you full already?"

The lack of attention to you (in a way) makes you frown, "Kento—"

"Don't be rude, sweetheart." He cuts off sharply and sternly.

You grumble something under your breath and that earns Nanami's fawn brown eyes back onto your face. It's almost intimidating the way he looks at you, a gentle glare, like he dares you to repeat yourself. Spoiler alert, you don't. If anything, you swallow thickly and wonder what's going on in his mind as to why he's staring at you so hard all of a sudden-

Nanami cuts every thought you were having off with one sharp thrust into your cunt, a nasty squelch echoing into the air along with a hitched breath from his throat. He then slumps down against you, pressing his hard chest against the softness of your own, moving his lips purposefully to the crown of your ear and tugging a bit of your skin in between his teeth.

Your arms jerk against the restrictions fastened around your wrist as the reflex to wrap them around his neck and claw at his back kicks in.

Nanami drags his hips back and the next thrust into you makes you choke out a moan right into the sex-enduced air. Your body was so so hot against his, that's why he liked teasing you so much beforehand. Sure, he could've gotten you this worked up with his voice alone but, where's the fun in that?

And as for his voice that he knows you love so much, Nanami intentionally presses his mouth against your ear and groans your name deeply. You throb so prettily around him that it makes his lips curve into a knowing smile, "I missed you.” He says into your ear.

Nanami's hands find your legs and he grips onto your plush skin firmly with those hardworking palms of his, parting you a bit wider for himself before picking up his pace.

"K-Kento, fuck!" You gasp as he angles precisely into you.

Growling hotly into your skin, “Agh, I know, I know," Nanami coos. He shifts his hips only a little and zones into that same area inside you, feeling your lips quiver around the girth of his cock, "That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You're a bit too busy losing your mind beneath him, having already reached your orgasm the moment he slid into you and now being fucked into an embarrassing state of overstimulation. 'Guess that's where all that teasing landed you—and you have the nerve to wonder why he does it.

Chuckling at you as if he's not seconds away from stuffing you full of gooey ropes of cum, “So sensitive.” Nanami teases. He then leans up and allows his eyes to fall on your expression. You were a mess, a few tears were slipping down your cheeks, your eyes kept flickering back, and a spot of drool was spilling out the corner of your lips.

“And look at this face,” Nanami's quick to bring attention to it, to which you whine and try turning your head away from him out of embarrassment. He's been down this road with you time and time again so, all he does is bring a hand to your jaw and force you to look at him.

Inching closer to you and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “You look so beautiful taking all of me like this," He praises, tongue darting out to lap up the few tears you had decorating that pretty face of yours. He was so infatuated with you. "Hear me?" Nanami utters.

You manage a messy fucked-out nod but that's simply not enough for this husband of yours. No, he's a greedy man when it comes to you.

So, Nanami moves his lips over yours and sears his words right into your mouth, "Say it," He tells you, "Tell me how beautiful my wife is."

With a strong gripping clench around his cock at that, you struggle to maintain eye contact with him during this moment of intimacy and the words come fumbling out of your mouth, "Ken..."

"Tell me," He says in a gentler tone, "Please?"

"S-So beautiful," You whimper. You're so embarrassed as you say that out loud to him but, even so, your body is feeling a bit more confident than before. Leading to your legs wrapping around his toned waist and locking him into this position with you—even though you can't verbalize it, you can physically be that confident wife he loves so much.

Which is exactly why Nanami mashes his lips onto yours once you do that and starts fucking you into the bed, groaning, grunting, growling into your mouth as his tongue sloppily meets yours.

After all, what kind of man would he be if he didn't make sure you understood how gorgeous you are on Valentine's day of all days? Which is why the remainder of the night is spent with him asking telling you to compliment yourself.

ᡣ𐭩 Gojo Satoru

Oh he’s definitely surprising you with his cock on full display for you. After spending the entire week showering you with gifts and a new surprise each day, how could he not save the best gift for the night of?

“What’s with that look on your face, do you not like your gift?” Your boyfriend, who’s currently sprawled out against the comfort of your shared mattress, asks you as you stand a few feet away simply baffled.

Blinking, you try to gather the display before you as calmly as possible. “Is this why you rushed out the bathroom like that?” You’d asked in return, referring only to a few minutes prior to this as you and your lover had bathed oh-so-romantically together.

Gojo tries his best to flash an indifferent smile, as if he isn’t utterly embarrassed right now.

You’ve got to be the only women he’d ever present himself to like this—matching bathrobe hanging just barely off of his shoulders as he lays across the bed, body dampened with water that glistens under the soft room lighting, cock exposed and throbbing as it typically does when he’s around you, with a tip that’s just as embarrassed and flushed as the rest of his body is, and a bow wrapped firmly around his base.

You hardly know where to place your eyes. He’d been basically courting you all week and loved on you a bit more than normal (which says a lot in itself because this man is just head over heels for you) just for him to end the day with one last surprise for you; himself.

Crossing your arms right under your chest and taking careful steps closer to him, a smile creeps onto your face, “I can get this anytime of the year, how’s this a gift?” You tease before dipping one knee onto the mattress.

Gojo’s rolling his eyes immediately and a pout tugs at his lower lip, “Well… I put a bow on it,” He practically mumbles out to you.

Your boyfriend really had a knack for being so utterly adorable when he wanted to. Which is exactly why you can’t help but proceed to tease him a little. “I can see that ‘Toru,” You hum softly.

And honestly, who are you to refuse a gift like this? Look at the man, he went 'out of his way' just to put a pretty lil' bow on his cock juuust for you!

Obviously you waste no time in enjoying your gift.

It started out with soft banter, a slow removal of your bathrobe, a sensual approach to him on the bed, and a quick position of yourself in between his legs. Although, it didn't take long for you to clasp your teeth onto the ribbon wrapped around him and then give it an eager tug.

By then, Gojo's breath was already heavy. How could it not be? He's got the best girlfriend a man could ever ask for in between his legs and unwrapping his cock with a hungry look in her eyes—of course he's going to have unsteady breathing.

Especially when you look up at his face as you pull the bow loose and allow it to fall out against his bare thighs. Then you're sending him a teasing wink before bringing your lips to the head of his cock. And oh he was leaking the entire time, cum dripping all down the sides of his lengthy cock before your lips fully met him.

Gojo always found himself to be a weak man in the face of you, no matter what he did, and today was no different.

Your freshly manicured nails are the only thing he can focus on to keep himself from cumming on the spot as your hand wraps around his base and you lull your tongue out to meet the crown of his cock.

Giving him one teasing kitten lick, you sigh, "Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are 'Toru?"

You're trying to kill him, clearly. If his face wasn't flushed before, it damn sure is now. This is the only reason why he tries his best to avoid letting you give him head, he always ends up like this—cheeks as red as ever, cock twitching wildly in your hand before he even enters your mouth, and voice coming out with a faint crack as he tries to respond to you.

"N-No," He responds. There's this pitch in his voice that makes your cunt throb. You never knew Gojo Satoru to have a voice crack like that. You hadn't even done anything yet. He's quick to clear his throat though, "I mean, only you've told me that."

Your plumped, lightly saliva-glossed lips wrap around the tip of his cock and his head immediately flies back. Hah, yeah, he's not lasting too long like this. "Do you like it when I tell you how pretty you are?" You whisper softly.

His blue eyes are fixed up on the ceiling now and as you continue to look up at him, you just watch the violent bob of his adam's apple as he gulps. "'Course I do," Gojo tries to say confidently, "I like anything you tell me, sweets."

"Yeah?" You purr. Ah, shit. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "Can you look at me, Satoru?" You request softly.

Mhm, he's done for. Not able to tell you no or ignore your gentle request, Gojo forces himself to tip his head back into place and look down at you. Cum starts dribbling out from his fat cockhead again but that's not what makes him lose his mind, no.

What really gets him is the way you stick your tongue out and make him watch his lengthy inches slot into your mouth. Saliva spills past your lips and wets up the rest of his length that your mouth doesn't reach, in which you spread around with your hand as you rotate your palm against his shaft.

He can't help the full body reaction that invokes. He almost immediately sits up a bit straighter and moans, "Fuck.. Can you warn me next time before you just—"

His jaw falls slack the moment you pop your mouth off of his cock and start jerking him off with whatever saliva is left lathering his aching length. Snowy white brows twisting up in a mix of pleasure and confusion, Gojo loses his breath as you lean up to his face and meet his lips with a messy kiss.

"Mmgh," He groans against you, moving a shaky hand to your waist as he kisses you back passionately.

When you pry away from him, you grin. "You like anything I tell you, right?"

He nods, "Uhuh..." Gojo's eyes are low on yours and he wonders where exactly you're going with this. He can't think too clearly with the way you're jerking him off but—

You cut his brain off with a sensual whisper near his lips, "What if I told you about how much I like havin' your cock in my mouth?"

He cums. Right then, right there, in your hand, as prematurely as ever. And that, that is exactly why Gojo hates when you give him head. You can't help but look down at the mess your boyfriend's made of himself in your hand. So much came out that it makes you giggle.

And the fact that you've get to stop moving your hand only makes him choke out your name. To which you tune out, too focused on how much cum is still spurting out of his glazed tip. Then you make this face, as if you were satisfied with just that and...

Gojo thinks he falls in love with you all over again. He spent all week catering to you, today especially, and normally he's the one who has you like this by the end of a special night but here he was—pathetically falling for how much you seemed to enjoy seeing him like this.

Seeing him...submissive.

Yeah, but don't worry. This is only a Valentine's day thing. Trust and believe he will be reversing the roles in a moment. Y'know, as soon as you remove your hand from his cock and stop staring at him like you want to devour him whole.

ᡣ𐭩 Choso Kamo

“It’s yours Cho’, take it.”

Did you have any idea what you were even asking for sometimes? 

How could you moan out something like that when he’s mid-stoke and expect him to hold back? Of course his hips are gonna start stuttering against you and he’s gonna thrust his thick cock a bit harder than intended as words stumble out his mouth, “H-Huh?” Choso gasps, dumbfoundedly. “But, I wanted to cater to you tonight..” He pouts.

Even while literally being on top of you, gently pressing your legs against your chest, and stuffing you full of his rudely curved cock, he still had a way of being so soft ‘n kind to you. A shade of red decorates his cheeks and the tips of his ears and he’s got that lovestruck look in his eyes as he admires you below him.

Sending him the same smile he fell in love with, “You always cater to me, baby. S’okay, I don’t want you to hold back anymore.” You tell him.

Choso swallows thickly and he halts the movement of his hips for a second, leaving his throbbing cock bulging against the walls of your slobbering pussy. “But, Valentine’s day…” He trails off carefully and his brows meet in confliction, “I should be making love to you—”

Your hands move to cup his cheeks into your palms and you giggle, “You make love to me all year long.” Tugging him down and forcing his eyes to focus solely on your own, “Look at me,” You breathe out, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “Tonight… I want you to fuck me.”

“Princess,” Choso grunts, falling forward a little and motioning to kiss you. Part of him wanted to shut your mouth with his own. If you kept talking to him like that, he was gonna act on desires he’s been suppressing for a long time.

You let him kiss you for a couple of seconds but soon pry your lips away with a wet pop, whispering, “I know you want to,” You point out, earning a mean press of his hips and causing his cockhead to greet your sweet spot with the filthiest french kiss, “Ah… A-And you’ve been such a good boyfriend to me, so—”

Choso tugs his hips back and his expression changes immediately. From soft ‘n loving to something more serious, more feral, “Say that again?” He rasps out.

Your eyelashes meet a couple times in shock at his quick change in demeanor but, you don’t hesitate to hum out to him, “You’ve been a good boyfriend to me.”

His eyes get lower and suddenly his voice is growing huskier, “And the other part? What you said before that.” Choso asks, leaning up slightly and letting your hands leave his face.

“I want you to fuck me,” You repeat, confused as to what exactly this is about to earn you.

The last thing that leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips is a low curse of, “Shit.”

Maybe it was the first thing you said that threw him off, the whole thing about how it’s his and he should just take it, or maybe it was the look in your eyes, or even those last two statements. He’s been a good boyfriend? You want him to fuck you?? Shit, how the hell is he supposed to function properly after hearing that?

Which is exactly why it doesn’t take him long to do as you’ve asked to and fuck you down into the bed in the meanest mating press.

Cock bullying into your soaking cunt, husk groans exiting his throat, and hands all over your body to grab and hold onto any bit of your hot skin he can get to—Choso’s treating your pussy ruder than he ever has before. The nasty squelch that echoes into the air after every thrust, the way you moan his name out sexier than he’s heard you before, and the cute twitch and clench of your cunt around his cock all drive him even crazier.

You find yourself embarrassed by how quickly he makes you cum by acting the way he is and you move your hands to cover your face. Choso’s never felt this way before but the sight of you being too shy to show him your expression while he pounds into you makes him a bit greedier.

“Don’t cover your face,” Choso huffs out, “Lemme see you.” Before you could even move one of your hands away, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and tugs it away from you. You gaze up at him all wide-eyed and lost in pleasure, watching pants leave his lips and the way his hair messily falls over you. Getting a bit rougher with his thrusts and watching your eyes get even wider, “This is how you wanted me, isn’t it?” Choso asks.

You’re quick to shoot your other hand to his chest and your nails claw at his skin as you give him the weakest push, jaw stupidly hanging open with moan after moan sliding out your throat. “C-Choso,” You choke when he makes this specific face—almost as if the sight of you pushing at him for a break made his brain short-circuit.

Pupil dilating and cock pulsing inside you, Choso nibbles on his lower lip for a second to bite back a smile before grunting heavily, “You’re pushin’ me away,” He points out before dropping his weight onto you even more. “S’cute…” Choso huffs thoughtlessly. He’s beyond pussydrunk at this point, and hardly even realizes what’s coming out of his mouth. Groaning, “Ugh, I-I thought you said it was mine? Didn’t you want me to take it like it’s mine?” He sears, “Fuck you like I belong t’ya?”

A whimper flies out of your mouth because he’s only emphasizing his every question with a heavier thrust of his cock, gaze locked onto your own so he can watch the way your eyes roll back in bliss. 

“That’s it,” Choso whispers to you before lifting himself a little, letting go of your wrist, and bringing that calloused hand of his down to the lower half of your tummy. Then he presses his palm down, “Can you feel me right here?”

Slurred together, “M’gonna cum,” Starts pouring from your lips over and over in a faint whiny whisper and your boyfriend simply fucks you right through it.

Smiling, Choso seems to purr his words out, “Yeahh? C’mon then, cum on this cock,” He grunts, speeding up his pace as he feels you gush all around him, “Get it nice ‘nd messy, princess.”

Your eyes are at the back of your skull by that point and your body quakes beneath your boyfriend. You didn’t know his mouth could be so nasty with you—in a verbal sense, anyway. And the way he was staring down at you, soaking up every moan and mewl that left those pretty lips of yours, fuck it made you wonder why you didn’t ask him to do this sooner. 

You’re not sure if he’s ever made you cum that hard before (he has, you’re just a bit too fucked out to remember right now). So, as you come down from your high, he slows himself down, smearing the mix of your cum and the slick that’s been drooling from his tip all against your pulsing walls. Your pants come to a steady halt once you catch your breath and you glance up at him with this dazed look plastered all over your face.

Choso brows furrow and he nuzzles every inch of his cock into you slowly, holding himself back from fucking you into overstimulation, “S-Shit, don’t look at me like that…” He mumbles to you. Aaand just like that he was back to normal, averting his gaze and everything, “Makin’ me nervous..” When his eyes do find yours again, he leans in to engage in an intimate whisper, “Was that too much?”

You fight the urge to use whatever you have left of your stamina to laugh at him. Shaking your head, you palm his cheek again and pull him down to kiss you. Then, you speak in between his lips, “Want you to do it again, Cho’.”

His breath hitches, “O-Oh, you like that?” It takes a second for that to register but when it does, he nods and leans up, confidence returning just like that. “Mh, I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Didn’t think you’d like my mouth to be jus’ as rude as my cock is with you.”

ᡣ𐭩 Sukuna Ryomen

“What a stupid Holiday…” Sukuna grumbles out to you not to long after the two of you had arrived home from a rather romantic date. “This is no different than what we normally do," He scoffs, referring to the way you're propped up on his lap right now.

You flash your boyfriend a sly smile and rock your hips back against the bulge that’s poking up against your cunt, “Yeah, but you’re twitching more than normal, ‘Kuna.”

He kisses his teeth and glances away from you dismissively, his grip on your hips tightening. “You have been depriving me of my needs all week,” Sukuna grunts out as you rub over a particularly sensitive part of his cock.

All these stupid layers in between you and him were driving him insane. He had half a mind to toss you into the back seat ‘n rip the flimsy dress you’re wearing right off but after putting him on a sex ban from the last holiday (Christmas) that he did that… he decides to control himself a bit more on this day.

“The buildup will be worth it,” Your voice sounds weirdly sweeter than normal. It’s almost though every syllable that slips off of your tongue makes his entire body react. It was weird. You were weird.

Scoffing again, “I’m sick of this ‘buildup’ nonsense.” Your boyfriend complains to you again.

Your hands trail up along his broad shoulders and you lean closer to him, breasts grazing his beefy chest as you do so, “Sukuna—”

He’s quick to snap his eyes back onto yours due to the closer proximity and there seems to be a faint softening in those typically hard red eyes of his. “Let me at least touch you,” Sukuna murmurs. You swear you notice his face flicker into something almost needy for a split second but perhaps you imagine it. 

Or at least, you thought you imagined it until your boyfriend leans closer to you and slithers one of his arms around your waist—the other slipping down to sneak beneath the fabric of your dress and meet your bare skin. Then, he stares directly at your lips, “...Please?”

You’re taken aback by the word that just left his lips. Sukuna Ryomen, your boyfriend of two years, begging you for something? Perhaps he hit his head sometime earlier. “Did you just beg?” You chuckle out lightheartedly, not exactly taking him seriously.

Sukuna remains indifferent, as if he said nothing out of the ordinary. “I did,” He hums, dropping his gaze down to your body atop his and squeezing your leg a bit, “Lift your hips, angel.”

You blink. Then, you feel his cock practically jump under you as your next word leaves your lips, “Sukuna are you…” 

Even though you trailed off, he was losing it. You hadn’t let him do anything sexual with you in weeks and today of all days was more tortuous than any other. The dress you wore to dinner, the red lipstick stains you pressed into his neck before you’d even went out, your scent—fuck, you smell ten times sweeter than normal. Maybe it’s just because it’s been a while but, either way, the simple utterance of his name for a third time in a row makes his body so utterly anxious for you.

“I am aching to touch you,” Sukuna huffs, a hinted groan lying beneath his words as he shifts his face into the crook of your neck and inhales strongly. Then, his fingernails dig into the skin of your thigh and his voice grows rougher, “Lift your fuckin’ hips.” He demands, pausing for a couple seconds to let his eyes fall to the back of his head in reaction to the throb he feels against his precum smothered cockhead. “…Please?” Sukuna whispers.

And that was all it took for you. You never knew him to beg and although it was extremely foreign to hear the first time, you wouldn't exactly ignore how sexy it sounded leaving his lips.

He always demands and sometimes asks—never forces, of course, but never ever begs… until today, that is. So how can you possibly find it in you to deny him any longer?

Slowly, you begin to raise your hips and at that very second, you look down and notice his own rolling upwards as he adjusts himself in his seat. He may have asked you to lift but he didn’t think much about how that meant he wouldn’t be feeling your warm panty-clad cunt against his bulge anymore.

With a throaty grumble, Sukuna rubs the bridge of his nose against the skin of your neck and he moves one of his hands in between your legs, “...Thank you.”

Everything about your body was so so addictive. The way you gasp lightly as he presses his fingers against your flimsy panties that hug your cunt so snuggly, the slight arch in your spine, and the way your hand meets his wrist at the touch all drive him mad with lust.

Sukuna could feel his heart pulsing in his chest in a way that was unusual. He’d never felt such strong waves of need until now.

The pads of his two thick fingers rub right in between your slick folds against your panties and he smirks, “All that talk about ‘buildup’ and yet you were more anxious for this than me.” He points out, feeling the twitch that follows his words.

He slowly tugs that soaked fabric to the side and as soon as his fingers rub against your cunt bare, you gasp again. Maybe you were needier than you’d let on. Sukuna retracts his hand for only a second and brings it to his mouth, pressing them against his lips and letting your slick rest there for a moment before returning his fingers to your dripping hole.

Then, you just barely watch him lick his lips and grunt at the taste right against your neck. Then he kisses you and positions two of his fingers to your entrance, easing them both in seamlessly while trailing his kisses up to your jawline.

Whispering hotly into your skin, “Look at that, took me all the way in only one thrust.” He breathes, drawing his fingers outward steadily and feeling the clench your pussy tries to hold him with, “S’warm in here,” Sukuna moans a little and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before.

Dipping his digits right back into you, your boyfriend works your squelching cunt with ease, soon pressing his thumb against your clit and groaning while you moan over him, “Mmgh, I missed playin’ with her like this. She’s so reactive…”

You were losing your mind just as much as he was, eyes frantically traveling over to his car windows and wondering what someone would think if they passed by and saw this. He didn’t have the darkest tint in the world and even though it was nightfall, a person could gather a erotic idea of what was taking place inside the vehicle rather easily. 

A heavy pant falls from your lips, “Hah, w-we should stop, ‘Kuna. What if someone sees—”

“Who cares? I am celebrating my woman on this ‘special’ day,” He tells you, upping the thrust of his fingers ever so slightly as he lifts his head from your neck and looks at you.

He couldn’t get over how much you were soaking his fingers right now, slick trickling down along his skin, decorating his wrist with pretty filth. Oh, you were everything to him—not that he would ever tell you. Instead, he smiles and curls his fingers deep inside you, “Pleasing her special spots, watching her pretty face twist up, cherishing her… loving her.”

Your legs twitch to clamp together at the sound of that. With glossy parted lips, you flash your boyfriend a dumbfounded look, “D-Did you just say you love me?” You utter as the faintest smile of satisfaction tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Sukuna maintains eyes contact with you and shoves his fingers deeper just to watch you lift your hips a bit as if to escape, “In a way, I suppose I did say that, huh?” He laughs a little and his head tilts to the side when he feels your walls throb around his two fingers, more of your slick gushing past your messily parted folds and wetting him up even more.

“Oh, was that to your liking? What if I say it more directly?” He moves to your right ear and says confidently and heavily with that rough voice of his, “I love you.”

Your face falls forward onto his shoulder and you moan messily into him, thighs tensing, and teeth baring just to bite down on him a little as you’re fingered right over the edge. An almost annoyed groan exits your throat and you find yourself frustrated at how embarrassingly quickly you finished.

Now laughing at you, “That’s all it took for you to cum?” Sukuna teases, pulling his fingers out for a second and leaning back to get a glance at it, “Look at this mess you’ve made, ugh.” He hums, parting his fingers and watching the way your release drips all messily along his skin.

“S’your fault,” You puff out against his shoulder.

His smile widens as if he were proud, “My fault? Hm. I suppose I should take responsibility then, yes?”

You lift your head a little and look down to his lap, knowing exactly what he means by that. Then, your gaze raises to his face and you quirk a soft brow before moving one of your hands to adjust his seat.

Sukuna scoffs lightly and leans back against his steadily reclining seat, cocking his head to the side and eyeing you up and down. When your let-back of his seat comes to a stop and there’s enough space for the two of you to move your limbs more freely, your hands find their place on his chest and you trail down. “You wanna.. in here?” You murmur curiously.

“Mhm, smart girl.” Sukuna praises just as your hands meet his waistline. Then, he looks down and nods his chin to your hands, “Now, unzip me.”

ᡣ𐭩 Ino Takuma

After spending all day loving and clinging to you more than he normally does, Ino practically forgot to do anything remotely sexual with you. It wasn’t exactly a priority for him on this day. Why would it be? All he wanted to do was see his stunning girlfriend keep that pretty smile on her face all day, sex was the very last thing on his mind.

Though… it becomes rather apparent to him while the two of you are cuddling late that same night. It’s about half an hour past eleven, he’s laying big spoon to you with your back pressed against his chest and your ass flush with his crotch—not that he over-sexualized the position, it was simply cuddling. 

It’s not until the show you guys were making fun of switches to a full on passionate sex scene that his eyes ever so naturally shift from the TV and to you laying against him. One of his arms had been idly wrapped around your waist but not even two minutes into the scene and he started moving it. His fingers begin to splay across your stomach and he rubs his palm over the fabric of your shirt for a bit before deciding experimentally angling his head down into your neck and planting a kiss to the side of it.

Just as he dips down, your entire body reacts and you smile. “Takuma?” You whisper whilst his hand creeps to the end of your oversized t-shirt and then slips beneath it so that he can feel on you skin to skin.

Mumbling and trying his best to keep his smile back, “Hm?”

Your head turns back to him and he lifts his mouth away from your neck to meet eyes with you. “Did that scene get you worked up?”

It’s then that it dawns on you for the millionth time that your boyfriend is really just the most delectable man you could’ve ever laid eyes on. Curious brown gaze gleaming down at you as he sits up a little, soft set grin spreading across his face, and voice leaving his throat as gentle as silk, “Not really,” Ino whispers to you. “I jus’ wanna love on you, baby.”

“Yeah?” Your smile widens and he takes that as his sign to lean in and connect his lips with yours. 

It's a tender moment between you two at first. Soft pecks that both of you chase for as the other pulls away ever so slightly carefully turn into something more heated. Ino’s lips lock onto yours firmly and he pushes against you, his hand rising further up under your shirt before his palm meets your breasts and he gives you a gentle squeeze. 

Groaning into your mouth at the simple contact of your hardening nipple to the center of his hand, Ino can’t help the push of his hips against your own. After that, his touches only grow greedier and greedier. Few words are exchanged between the two of you—only grunts, groans, and breathy moans enter the air for a while as you both melt into one another.

You’ve no idea how much time passes before you end up with two of his skillful fingers working the inner depths of your leaking cunt. His breath is now hot against your ear, “So wet… all I did was kiss you a couple of times,” He chuckles playfully.

A whine leaves your throat and you feel his fingers rub eagerly inside you, “I want more.”

Ino gets a little nervous at the sound of that but, he plays it off as if he were still the one in control of the situation, “Aw, is this not enough for you?” he taunts.

You shake your head and move your hand down over his, guiding his fingers deeper into you.

He starts to get the idea but, instead of fingerfucking you like you so clearly want him to, he tugs his digits out and casually cocks a brow, “Hm. So, what do you want then?”

“You know what I want,” You say, groaning at the loss.

Your boyfriend shrugs innocently and a playful smile dawns across his lips before he looks elsewhere, “Maybe, buuut I wanna hear you ask for it.”

Not hesitating one bit, you lean up closer to him and briefly pull his lower lip into your mouth and suck. Ino’s eyes fall down on your movements and you go from sucking on his lip to kissing him fully, to which he folds. And if that wasn’t enough, when your lips do sever from one another, you whisper, “Can you fuck me, Takuma?”

“Hah, anything for you, beautiful,” He whispers, quickly caught off guard as you turn around to face him full and moving your hands down to his sweats, “O-Oh, we’re eager, are we?”

“Want you inside me,” You grumble, hand sinking past his sweatpants and straight into his boxers to tug his hard cock out. 

Ino had let out one last curse in reaction to your eagerness but he damn sure didn’t deny you of anything. It’s not long before you’re lifting one of your legs and he’s stuffing himself inside you as you both continue laying on your sides facing one another. Your leg hooks onto his hip and he ends up with a mean grip onto the underside of your thigh.

Your legs are all intertwined with one another and Ino’s groaning into your neck while he feeds your greedy cunt his cock over and over again, sucking your skin into his mouth, and leaving all sorts of marks on you.

At some point he lets off a moan and feels your pussy grip onto him even tighter than before in reaction, “Like that?” He whispers, taking your next moan as a response, “Uhuh, I can feel it.”

His voice is so caring and attentive with you, despite the constant stretch of his dick past your folds, slick spilling all out your lips and creating the sloppiest mess of wetness where the two of you are connected. His plump cockhead is giving the depths of your cunt the tenderest smooches, obscure sounds leave both your mouth and your pussy with his every thrust into you. 

Catching your expression particularly lewd, Ino tries to bring your attention back to him and not his cock for a second, inching closer to your face just to talk to you, “Did… ah, did you enjoy your day, baby?” 

Just as he says that to you, you feel his cock glide into that one spot that makes you see stars for a moment. Your jaw falls and you just give him a dumb nod, he’s fucks you so unintentionally good that it makes you lose all trains of thought in only a few minutes—and god when he actually puts in some effort? Now, that’s when you start letting out moans loud enough to earn complaints from your neighbors. 

But for now, Ino doesn’t have to do any of that. You’d been secretly worked up from the moment you woke up to breakfast in bed and now that he’s finally giving you want you’ve been craving, you find your body especially sensitive to his every move and word. 

Ino, as oblivious as ever, simply grins at you, “I enjoyed my day too, mhm.” He hums, eyes all over the way you’re falling apart on his cock right now. His hips snap forward a little harder and the arms you have wrapped around his neck grasp on to him more, nails scratching at his back in reaction—which leaves the prettiest bright red marks he’ll be sure to admire later.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden jerk of his hips and try hiding your face. Ino scoffs before pushing your body over. You fall onto your back and he remains on his side, lazily continuing the sloppy fuck of his cock into you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now,” He says with a kind smile, flicking a hand down to thumb at your clit, “That’s my job, remember?” Your back arches up off the bed and you struggle to look at him, “C’mon, keep those pretty eyes on mine. Mhmm, just like that.” He praises.

A gorgeous string of moans leave you as he pushes one of your legs to get you spread apart even further. Which quickly ends up with him positioning himself on top of you and thrusting into you with more eagerness than before. You’re not sure where his sudden urge to press you down against the mattress comes from but he sure as hell starts beating his leaking cockhead right into that spot he knows drives you crazy.

And as if to contrast the abrupt bullying of his throbbing inches into you, he leans his mouth up and kisses your forehead softly. It was as though his next word was a warning in regards to the way he’s about to treat your cunt, “Love you.” Ino whispers.

Yeah, he only says that during sex when he’s either about to cum—which usually consists of those two words being uttered over and over, but one single claim of loving you always leads to your legs parted nice and wide for him so that he can look down and watch his cock disappear inside you.

Which is honestly one of his favorite sights, especially when you let him cum inside you, then he gets the chance to watch the creamy mess struggle to stay in your cunt. What better gift to the two of you on this day than that?

A/N: Join my 18+ discord server for sneak peaks on upcoming works & more!

[sonarspace]

⋆⁺₊ HOLLY, JOLLY, SINFUL

꒰ synopsis. where the krampus you feared is far from the monster in the stories, and santa isn’t the saint you thought he was.

content. santa/krampus au. sukuna x fem!reader. nsfw. rough sēx, orāl (f! receiving), hair pulling, multiple orgāsms, size kink, and possessive sukuna.

wc. 6k

an. a little spin on a christmas tale, i hope you guys like it. happy early christmas to those who celebrate <3

the north pole buzzed with a frenzy unlike any december before. the workshop, usually a well-oiled machine of holiday cheer, was on the brink of chaos. elves darted across the floor, their faces pale, their hands trembling as they struggled to stay productive amidst the rising tension.

toys had disappeared. not just a few, but sleighs worth of carefully crafted gifts, all set to be delivered to children across the world.

“gone,” whispered a senior elf, his voice trembling as he held up an empty inventory list. “every last one.”

“how could this happen?” another elf demanded, their voice sharp with fear. “no one gets past santa’s wards. no one.”

you worked silently, sorting a batch of unfinished trains, though your hands trembled as much as theirs. the tension in the room was suffocating, each whispered fear clawing at the edges of your composure.

you weren’t the most experienced elf—far from it—but even you could sense the weight of what had happened. christmas wasn’t just a season; it was magic, a promise of joy to the world. and without the toys, that magic would crumble.

“it’s him,” someone whispered behind you, their voice low and ominous. “krampus.”

the name hung in the air like a curse.

you’d heard the stories growing up, tales of a monstrous being who lived in the frozen expanse of the south pole. krampus, they said, was the shadow of christmas, a creature who thrived on misery and chaos. his four arms were said to be lined with claws, his horns sharp enough to pierce steel.

but no one believed the stories. not really.

until now.

the grand hall was quieter than you’d ever heard it.

rows of elves stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the towering christmas tree. despite the festive decorations, the atmosphere was heavy, the usual cheer replaced by unease.

santa stood at the head of the room, his crimson coat gleaming in the firelight. his sharp crimson eyes swept over the crowd, and the tension in the room seemed to deepen.

“this was no accident,” santa said, his voice cutting through the silence. “the toys have been stolen. and the wards around the north pole have been breached.”

a ripple of shock ran through the crowd.

“krampus has made his move,” santa continued. “and if we don’t act quickly, christmas will be ruined.”

the whispers began again, this time louder, more frantic.

“he’s real?” someone asked, their voice tinged with disbelief.

“of course he’s real,” another snapped. “who else could have done this?”

you stayed silent, your heart pounding as santa’s words sank in.

“we must retrieve the gifts,” santa said. “but the south pole is treacherous, and krampus is no ordinary foe. this will require courage—and skill.”

his gaze swept over the crowd again, lingering on the senior elves who avoided his eyes.

“who will go?”

the room fell silent.

your hands clenched into fists.

you could feel the weight of your fellow elves’ fear, their unwillingness to step forward. the journey would be dangerous, and the thought of facing krampus—the supposed monster of legend—was enough to send even the bravest elves into hiding.

but as the silence stretched on, something inside you stirred.

if no one else would act, then who would?

before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward.

“i’ll do it.”

the words rang out in the hall, louder than you’d expected.

all eyes turned to you, a mix of admiration, surprise, and doubt flickering in their gazes.

santa’s sharp gaze settled on you, his expression unreadable.

“you’re brave,” he said after a moment, his tone even. “but this will not be easy.”

“i can handle it,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady.

before santa could respond, the air changed.

a sudden chill swept through the hall, snuffing out the candles in an instant. the elves gasped, their breath visible in the freezing air.

the temperature plummeted, and an unnatural wind began to swirl, carrying with it a deep, mocking laugh.

“so this is the great north pole,” a voice boomed, the sound reverberating through the hall like thunder. it was smooth and resonant, laced with cruel amusement.

“weak, fragile, desperate,” the voice continued. “you send a mere elf to face me? is that the best you can do, kenjaku?”

the air seemed to pulse with the weight of the voice, a presence you could feel but not see.

you glanced at santa, your confusion growing. kenjaku? who was that?

“show yourself, krampus,” santa growled, his jaw tightening.

the voice laughed again, colder this time.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you? but no, not yet,” krampus said, his tone dripping with mockery. “come to me, kenjaku. or are you too much of a coward to face what you stole?”

the words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

santa’s expression darkened, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“i’ll come,” he said finally, his voice tight with restrained anger.

the meeting ended in a flurry of nervous energy. elves whispered among themselves, their voices rising and falling like waves as they tried to make sense of what they’d just heard.

you stayed behind, packing supplies for the journey. the staff santa had given you—infused with ancient christmas magic—felt warm in your hands, a faint glow emanating from its carved surface.

“are you sure about this?” one of the senior elves asked, their voice hesitant as they approached you.

“i don’t have a choice,” you replied, your voice firm. “someone has to do it.”

they nodded, though their expression remained troubled. “be careful,” they said before turning to leave.

you glanced at santa, who stood by the fire, his gaze distant. his usual commanding presence felt… strained, as though the weight of krampus’s words had unsettled him.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story—something he wasn’t telling you.

but there was no time to dwell on it. the journey to the south pole awaited, and whatever lay ahead, you would face it head-on.

the journey to the south pole was grueling.

the snow felt sharper here, more like shards of glass than soft flakes. the bitter cold seemed to seep through every layer of clothing, chilling you to your bones. this wasn’t like the north pole—the light, the cheer, the magic. this place felt… wrong.

santa led the way, his crimson coat stark against the endless expanse of gray and white. the silence between you was heavy, broken only by the crunch of snow underfoot and the howling wind.

“are we close?” you asked, gripping your staff tightly as its faint glow pulsed in your hand.

“closer than i’d like,” santa replied, his tone clipped.

you frowned. his usual steady demeanor felt off. there was none of the quiet confidence you’d grown used to—just tension, coiled and sharp.

“what is this place?” you pressed, glancing at the jagged ice formations jutting out of the ground like broken glass.

“krampus’s domain,” santa said. “his influence twists the land. the closer we get, the more dangerous it becomes.”

a shiver ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

the attack came without warning.

the ground trembled beneath your feet, the snow cracking and shifting as shadowy figures emerged from the storm.

“what’s that?” you asked, panic rising in your chest.

“bandits,” santa said sharply, his hand tightening around his staff.

before you could respond, they were upon you. their movements were quick and unnatural, their jagged weapons carved from ice glinting in the dim light.

“stay close,” santa ordered.

you raised your staff, its glow flaring as the first bandit lunged toward you. the magic coursed through you, sending a pulse of energy that knocked them back.

but there were too many.

you swung the staff again, the force of the blow sending another bandit sprawling into the snow. but for every one you struck down, two more seemed to take their place.

a sharp blow to your side sent you stumbling, the staff slipping from your grasp. you fell to your knees, gasping for breath as pain radiated through your ribs.

“help me!” you shouted, turning to santa.

but he wasn’t there.

your heart sank as you scanned the storm, the wind tearing at your cloak. “santa!” you called again, desperation rising in your voice.

there was no answer.

the bandits closed in, their twisted faces leering down at you.

“still breathing, are you?”

the voice was deep, smooth, and laced with a hint of amusement.

you blinked, your vision blurry as the storm raged around you. a figure crouched beside you, his sharp features coming into focus as the wind whipped through his wild, pink hair.

“who…” you croaked, your voice barely audible.

“relax,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

he leaned closer, his crimson eyes scanning your face with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

“bandits,” he muttered, glancing at the torn fabric of your cloak. “you’re lucky they didn’t finish the job.”

before you could respond, he slipped a thick cloak around your trembling form, his four arms moving with surprising gentleness.

“can you stand?” he asked.

you shook your head weakly, your body refusing to cooperate.

“figured as much,” he said with a faint smirk.

before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly, cradling you against his chest. the warmth of his skin seeped through the layers of fabric, and you found yourself leaning into him, unable to resist.

“who are you?” you asked weakly.

“someone who doesn’t leave people to die in the snow,” he replied dryly.

the warmth of his shelter was a shock after the brutal cold outside.

he set you down on a plush couch near the fire, his movements careful as he adjusted the blanket around your shoulders.

“drink this,” he said, handing you a steaming mug.

the spiced cider was rich and warm, flooding your senses with comfort. you sipped it cautiously, watching as he crouched beside you.

“what were you doing out there?” he asked, his crimson eyes sharp and searching.

you hesitated, glancing down at the mug in your hands. “you wouldn’t believe me if i told you.”

his lips curved into a faint smirk. “try me.”

you swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “i came here with santa claus,” you began hesitantly, watching his reaction.

his eyes widened slightly, but not with disbelief. there was something else in his gaze—an intensity you couldn’t quite place, as if he were seeing you for the first time.

you felt the need to explain, to justify yourself. “i know it sounds ridiculous,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out. “but… santa claus is real. he exists for those who choose to believe in him.”

to your surprise, his expression softened. the smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, almost contemplative.

“and you believe,” he said, his tone calm.

“i do,” you admitted. “it’s not just about the toys or the magic. it’s about hope. about believing that even in the darkest times, there’s something good in the world.”

he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “a rare thing, these days,” he said quietly.

his reaction surprised you. instead of mockery, there was understanding in his gaze, a warmth that made your chest tighten.

“so, you’re here with him,” he said after a moment.

“yes,” you replied. “santa sent me to find krampus and retrieve the stolen gifts.”

his eyes darkened slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than felt natural. it wasn’t skepticism or anger—it was something deeper, more intense.

how could kenjaku have someone like you by his side? your quiet strength, your rare beauty, your unwavering belief in something so pure. the thought ignited something sharp and bitter in his chest.

you shifted under his gaze, mistaking his silence for doubt. “i know it sounds ridiculous,” you said quickly, your voice trembling slightly. “but i promise, it’s real. everything—santa, the north pole, the magic—it’s all real.”

“i don’t think it’s ridiculous,” he said, interrupting you gently.

you blinked, caught off guard. “you don’t?”

his lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “not at all,” he said, his voice low. “some things are worth believing in, even if the rest of the world doesn’t understand.”

his words lingered in the air between you, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed to fade into the background.

“you’re not what i expected,” he said finally, his voice softer now.

neither was he.

the storm outside had grown fiercer, the wind howling against the walls of the shelter as if the very land were angry. inside, the fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the room.

you watched your rescuer as he paced near the hearth, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. the tension in his movements was palpable, his four arms crossing and uncrossing as if he were fighting an internal battle.

“so,” he said, breaking the silence. “you came here with kenjaku.”

you frowned. “who?”

his gaze snapped to yours, sharp and incredulous. “kenjaku,” he repeated, his tone laced with disdain. “the man you call santa claus.”

your stomach twisted at his words, the weight of the name unfamiliar and wrong. “that’s not his name,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“it is,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “you’ve been lied to.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the intensity in his gaze silenced you. there was no mockery, no smugness—only a simmering anger that made your breath catch.

“you don’t know, do you?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, softer. “what he’s done.”

“what are you talking about?” you said, your chest tightening as the weight of his words pressed down on you.

he sighed, running a hand through his pink hair, his tattoos glowing faintly as his anger simmered just beneath the surface.

“centuries ago,” he began, his voice steady but edged with bitterness, “i was chosen to bear the mantle of santa claus. the magic of christmas—the ancient power that keeps this world in balance—was mine by right. but kenjaku didn’t think i was fit for the role. he wanted it for himself.”

you stared at him, your mind reeling as his words sank in.

“he used forbidden magic,” sukuna continued, his voice darkening, “to seal me here, in the south pole. he took everything from me—my title, my power, my purpose—and left me to rot in this frozen wasteland.”

the crackle of the fire was the only sound as his words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“and now he sends you,” he said, his gaze narrowing. “to clean up his mess.”

“that’s not true,” you said, though your voice wavered. “he wouldn’t…”

“wouldn’t he?” sukuna interrupted, stepping closer. “then tell me, where is he now? why did he leave you to die?”

the question hit like a blow, the memory of the bandits and kenjaku’s disappearance flashing in your mind.

“maybe he had no choice,” you said weakly, though even you didn’t believe the words.

sukuna snorted, his expression twisting into a bitter smile. “you’re too kind for your own good.”

you looked away, the weight of his gaze too much to bear.

“you still don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “he’s been using you. just like he uses everyone else.”

the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence.

sukuna stiffened, his tattoos glowing brighter as he turned toward the door. his crimson eyes burned with anger, his four arms flexing as he prepared for what was coming.

“stay here,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

before you could respond, the door burst open, a gust of icy wind swirling into the room.

and there, standing in the doorway, was kenjaku—santa claus.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding,” kenjaku said, his voice smooth, almost amused.

sukuna’s growl rumbled through the room like distant thunder. “you’ve got some nerve showing your face here.”

kenjaku stepped inside, his crimson coat gleaming in the firelight. his gaze swept over the room, lingering on you for a moment before returning to sukuna.

“you always were dramatic,” kenjaku said, his tone sharp.

“and you always were a liar,” sukuna shot back, his voice venomous.

you stood frozen, your heart pounding as the tension between them crackled like static electricity.

“why did you leave me?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the standoff.

kenjaku’s gaze softened, though there was something calculating in his expression. “i had no choice,” he said smoothly. “the bandits were too many. if i’d stayed, we both would have died.”

“that’s bullshit,” sukuna spat, stepping forward. “you left her because she wasn’t worth the effort to you.”

“don’t listen to him,” kenjaku said, his voice soothing as he turned to you. “he’s krampus. he’s the reason we’re in this mess.”

“and you’re the reason she almost died,” sukuna growled, his voice low and dangerous.

kenjaku ignored him, his focus entirely on you. “he’s manipulating you,” he said, his tone firm but calm. “he wants you to trust him so he can use you against me.”

you hesitated, your gaze flickering between them.

“don’t listen to him,” sukuna said, his eyes burning as he looked at you. “you know the truth.”

you took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“you left me to die,” you said to kenjaku, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. “he didn’t.”

kenjaku’s expression faltered, the first crack in his calm facade.

“you don’t understand,” he began, but you didn’t let him finish.

raising your staff, you stepped closer to sukuna, the magic within it surging as you made your choice.

“she’s not yours to manipulate,” sukuna snarled, stepping in front of you as kenjaku’s face twisted in rage.

the fight was chaos.

magic crackled through the air, the room trembling as sukuna and kenjaku clashed. sukuna moved with raw power, his four arms striking with precision as his tattoos glowed with unrestrained energy. kenjaku countered with sharp, calculated attacks, his crimson coat billowing around him as he fought with a ruthless efficiency.

you held your ground, the staff in your hands glowing as you channeled your own magic. when kenjaku’s attacks threatened to overwhelm sukuna, you stepped in, the power of the north pole surging through you as you deflected the blows.

“stay out of this!” kenjaku snapped, his voice rising in frustration.

“no,” you said firmly, your gaze steady. “i’m done following your orders.”

sukuna smirked, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to kenjaku. “looks like you’ve lost your grip,” he taunted.

kenjaku roared, his attacks growing wilder, more desperate. but together, you and sukuna were unstoppable—a force that even the self-proclaimed santa couldn’t overcome.

the clash reached its peak with a deafening explosion of magic. sparks of crimson and gold danced through the air as sukuna’s raw power collided with kenjaku’s calculated strikes. the very walls of the shelter trembled under the weight of their battle, cracks snaking along the icy structure.

you gripped the staff tightly, its glow steady in your hands as you prepared to deflect another attack aimed at sukuna.

“is that all you’ve got?” sukuna snarled, his four arms moving with devastating precision as he sent a powerful strike toward kenjaku.

kenjaku staggered, his crimson coat scorched and torn, his sharp features twisted in frustration. his usual smug confidence had begun to falter, his attacks growing more desperate.

“this isn’t over,” kenjaku hissed, his voice laced with venom as he stepped back, his hands crackling with dark magic.

“oh, it is,” sukuna growled, his tattoos glowing brighter as he advanced. “you’re done hiding behind lies, kenjaku.”

you stepped forward, raising your staff. the magic within it surged, intertwining with sukuna’s energy as you sent a pulse of light toward kenjaku.

he barely had time to deflect it before sukuna was upon him, his fists slamming into kenjaku’s barrier with enough force to shatter it. the power of the strike sent kenjaku flying backward, crashing into the icy wall with a thunderous crack.

kenjaku struggled to rise, his movements slow and unsteady. his crimson eyes burned with rage as he glared at you and sukuna.

“you think this changes anything?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “you think you can take my place?”

“it was never your place to begin with,” sukuna said coldly, stepping forward.

you watched as sukuna loomed over kenjaku, his presence dominating the room. for a moment, you thought he might strike the final blow, but instead, he stepped back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“you’re not worth it,” sukuna said, his voice low and sharp. “but you’re finished. you’ll never hold the mantle again.”

with a flick of his hand, sukuna unleashed a burst of energy that sent kenjaku hurtling out of the shelter and into the storm. the force of it was so immense that the very air seemed to ripple, the storm outside swallowing kenjaku whole.

silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

you lowered the staff, your hands trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“is it over?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

sukuna turned to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “it’s over,” he said, his voice steady.

the tension in your chest eased, and you sank onto the couch, exhaustion washing over you.

sukuna moved to the hearth, his four arms lowering as the glow of his tattoos dimmed. he leaned against the wall, his crimson eyes watching you closely.

“you fought well,” he said after a moment, his tone quiet.

“so did you,” you replied, offering him a small, tired smile.

his lips twitched into a faint smirk, though there was a warmth in his gaze that made your cheeks flush.

the journey back to the north pole was a blur of ice and wind, but this time, you weren’t alone.

sukuna walked beside you, his presence steady and protective. he carried the stolen gifts in a large sack slung over his shoulder, his four arms making the burden look effortless.

when you finally crossed the threshold of the north pole, the light and magic of the workshop washed over you like a wave. elves gathered in the grand hall, their faces alight with relief and joy as they saw the gifts restored.

but their excitement faltered when they saw sukuna. whispers rippled through the crowd, their eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

“it’s okay,” you said, stepping forward. “he’s not our enemy.”

santa’s empty throne loomed at the head of the room, and sukuna’s gaze lingered on it, his expression unreadable.

“it’s yours now,” you said softly, your voice carrying only to him.

he glanced at you, his crimson eyes narrowing. “you think they’ll accept me?”

“they will,” you said, your voice firm. “because they’ll see what i see.”

his lips curved into a faint smile, and he stepped forward, his presence commanding as he approached the throne.

when he sat, the air seemed to shift, the ancient magic of christmas surging through the hall. the elves stared in awe as the throne’s glow brightened, its magic recognizing sukuna as the rightful santa.

the days that followed were a whirlwind of activity as christmas was saved and the gifts delivered. but when it was all over, and the workshop quieted for the long rest of the year, sukuna sought you out.

he found you in the quiet of your room, the glow of the north pole’s lights filtering through the window.

“come with me,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

you followed him without hesitation, his presence drawing you in like a magnet. he led you to his chambers—his now, as the new santa. the room was warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.

“you saved me,” he said, turning to face you. his crimson eyes softened, his tattoos glowing faintly in the dim light. “you trusted me when no one else would.”

“you deserved it,” you said quietly.

he stepped closer, his four arms wrapping around you as his lips curved into a smirk. “and now, i intend to thank you properly.”

the air between you seemed to hum with energy, his gaze locking onto yours as the distance between you disappeared.

his chambers were steeped in a heavy, intoxicating warmth, the flickering firelight reflecting off the deep crimson furnishings and casting shadows that seemed to breathe with the rhythm of the room. the air itself felt alive, humming with a raw energy that matched the man standing before you.

sukuna leaned casually against the ornate four-poster bed, his broad shoulders and muscular arms giving the impression of effortless power. his crimson eyes burned with an intensity that pinned you in place, their sharpness softened only slightly by the faint curl of his lips.

“you don’t need to stand there like a nervous little rabbit,” he said, his voice low and teasing, a delicious rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “come here.”

the way he said it—smooth and commanding, with a promise of something that made your stomach flutter—left you no choice but to obey.

you stepped closer, your heart pounding with each step, until you were standing in front of him.

“you saved christmas,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours as his four arms moved to surround you. the first hand slid to your waist, his grip firm but not overbearing, while another rested gently on the small of your back, pulling you closer. “and more than that… you saved me.”

“i didn’t do it alone,” you replied, your voice a whisper under the weight of his attention.

he tilted his head, strands of soft pink hair falling into his face as his smirk widened. his thumb traced lazily over your cheek, the pad of it brushing just beneath your lips, lingering like he was daring you to take a bite. “always so modest,” he murmured, voice like velvet dragged over steel. “but tonight isn’t about me. it’s about you.”

his words settled low in your stomach, molten and heavy, and before you could think to reply, his lips were on yours.

the kiss wasn’t gentle. sukuna didn’t ask—he took. his mouth moved over yours with a slow, deliberate hunger that left no room for hesitation. his tongue brushed against your bottom lip before sliding inside, tasting you, claiming you with a heat that left you lightheaded.

his hands—strong, calloused, and just the right amount of rough—moved without direction, as if instinct alone drove them. one slid up the bare skin of your back, tugging you against him until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you. another drifted lower, fingers curving to squeeze your thigh, pulling it higher against his hip.

the third tangled into your hair, twisting at the roots with just enough pressure to make you whimper against his mouth. the way he touched you—too many hands, too much strength—left you dizzy and burning.

“fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to catch your lower lip between his teeth, giving it a playful tug before releasing you. his voice was husky, breath ragged, but his smirk never faded. “already trembling?”

“maybe you should do something about it,” you shot back, though your voice barely rose above a whisper.

his gaze flicked over you, crimson eyes glinting with something darker.

“oh, i intend to.”

before you could react, sukuna swept you up—two hands beneath your thighs, one cradling your back, the last trailing teasingly down your spine. he carried you toward the bed like you weighed nothing, the heat of his body seeping through every layer between you.

when he dropped you onto the plush sheets, he hovered at the edge of the bed, gaze raking over you with the kind of attention that left your skin flushed.

“strip.”

the single word hung heavy in the air, rasping low and deep, more command than request.

your fingers trembled as you pulled at the fabric, peeling away each layer under his watchful eyes.

by the time the last piece fell to the floor, sukuna knelt between your legs, hands spreading your thighs apart with an ease that made your breath catch.

“look at you,” he murmured, his pink hair falling over his forehead as his gaze darkened. thick fingers traced a slow path along the soft skin of your inner thigh, rough fingertips catching on each sensitive dip. “all spread out for me.”

his breath was hot as he lowered his head, lips brushing feather-light kisses over the inside of your legs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

when he finally reached your center, he paused—close enough for you to feel the soft puff of his exhale, but not enough to satisfy the ache blooming between your thighs.

“mine,” he growled, voice vibrating against your skin.

and then his mouth was on you.

his tongue traced a slow, deliberate line from your entrance to your clit, flicking over the sensitive nub with a precision that left your head spinning.

you gasped, fingers flying to his hair, tugging hard at the strands of pink that curled between your knuckles.

he groaned into you, the vibration of his voice sending another jolt straight through your core.

“so fucking sweet,” he muttered against you, the words muffled by the slick heat of his mouth.

his tongue lapped at you in slow, torturous circles, switching between soft flicks and hard strokes that left your thighs trembling.

when his finger pressed into you—thick and unrelenting—you couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out.

his crimson eyes flicked up, locking onto yours. “louder,” he commanded, curling his finger inside you until he found that spot that made your hips jerk.

“sukuna,” you gasped, nails digging into his scalp.

his smirk widened against you, but he didn’t relent. another finger joined the first, stretching you just enough to make your toes curl.

“that’s it,” he purred, dragging his tongue over your clit with every pulse of his fingers. “say my name again.”

your breath hitched as heat coiled low in your belly, winding tighter with each stroke.

“sukuna,” you whimpered, body arching into his touch as the pressure inside you built to the edge.

“good girl.”

his tongue moved faster, fingers thrusting deeper until the coil snapped, pleasure flooding your senses so sharply that you swore you saw white.

you writhed beneath him, body trembling with each wave of release, but sukuna didn’t stop. his mouth and hands dragged you through the aftershocks, prolonging the heat until your legs shook violently around his head.

when he finally pulled away, his lips and chin glistened, and the sight of him licking your slick from his fingers sent another rush of heat flooding your core.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped, his voice rough and low as he hovered over you, his cock pressing against your entrance.

you could feel him—hot, thick, and far too big.

“you’re gonna take every inch,” he growled, tilting your hips higher as he teased your entrance with the tip.

his cock dragged through your slick folds, each shallow thrust making you ache with want.

“look at me.”

your eyes snapped to his, and the sight of him left you breathless. his crimson gaze burned with possession, pink strands of hair falling into his face as he slowly sank inside, stretching you inch by inch.

your nails dug into his shoulders as your head fell back against the pillow.

“sukuna,” you gasped, breath breaking as he filled you completely.

his name spilled from your lips in a breathy moan as he bottomed out, the thick press of his cock stretching you to your limit. sukuna stilled, letting you adjust, his four hands roaming your body in slow, reverent strokes—calloused palms smoothing over your hips, thighs, and breasts as if to memorize every inch.

“fuck,” he rasped, one of his thumbs dragging lazily over your swollen clit. “you’re takin’ me so well. look how deep i am.”

your eyes fluttered open just in time to catch the glint in his gaze, his crimson irises smoldering as he pressed down on the slight bulge in your abdomen.

“you feel that?” he smirked, applying just enough pressure to make you keen. “so full of me already.”

your head fell back, a soft whimper tumbling from your throat as he rolled his hips, the slow drag of him pulling out leaving you trembling.

“stay with me, baby,” he growled, catching your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “i wanna see that pretty face while i fuck you.”

he snapped his hips forward again, the sudden force driving a gasp from your lips. sukuna’s smirk widened as he found his rhythm, each thrust harder, deeper—grinding against that sensitive spot inside that left your thighs trembling around his waist.

“goddamn,” he hissed, leaning down to bite at the curve of your shoulder, his teeth dragging against your flushed skin. “tight little thing. you were made for me.”

your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he drove you closer to the edge with every snap of his hips.

“sukuna—please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for.

“please what?” he teased, dipping his head to suck a bruise just above your collarbone, his tongue flicking over the mark. “you gotta use your words, sweetheart.”

“i—” your voice broke as he angled his thrusts, the head of his cock brushing against that spot so perfectly you thought you might unravel on the spot.

sukuna grinned, reading the desperation in your eyes as if it fueled him. “ah, there it is,” he murmured, lips brushing against your jaw. “that sweet little spot that makes you fall apart.”

his pace quickened, hips pistoning into you with a brutal precision that sent molten pleasure ripping through your veins.

“you close, baby?” he growled, his voice gravelly as his four hands anchored you to the bed—one pressing down against your lower stomach, two gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, and the last tangling in your hair, tugging gently as he sucked at the curve of your throat.

you could only nod, your breath catching as the tension in your core coiled tighter, dangerously close to snapping.

“then cum for me,” he ordered, dragging his thumb over your clit in tight, merciless circles. “let me feel you.”

his words were all it took—your body arched off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and all-consuming.

sukuna groaned low in his chest, his thrusts growing rougher, sloppier as your walls pulsed around him, milking him for all he was worth.

“fuck, baby,” he snarled, burying himself to the hilt one last time as he came, the heat of his release flooding you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound between you the ragged cadence of your breathing and the faint crackle of the fire.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound between you the ragged cadence of your breathing and the faint crackle of the fire.

sukuna leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips—a stark contrast to the bruising way he’d just taken you. his hands, once gripping you with unrelenting force, now traced gentle patterns along your waist, grounding you in the quiet intimacy that followed.

“an elf always belongs with santa,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough yet tender, as if the words carried a weight neither of you fully understood until now.

your heart skipped at the quiet conviction in his tone, warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth.

you brushed a hand through his pink hair, letting the strands curl around your fingers as you smiled softly. “guess that makes me yours then.”

[yakshxiao]

FIVE MINUTES AT A TIME ; JACK ABBOT

wc; 9.3k synopsis; You and Jack only ever see each other for five minutes at a time — the tail end of day shift and the start of night shift. But those five minutes? They’ve become the best part of both of your days. Everyone else in the ER has noticed it. The way you both lean in just a little too close during handoff. The way both of you leave a drink and a protein bar next to the chart rack. The way neither of you ever miss a single shift — until one day, one of you doesn’t show up. And everything shifts.

contents; Jack Abbot/nurse!reader, gn!reader, medical inaccuracies, hospital setting, mentions of injury and death, slow burn, found family, mutual pinning, mild jealousy, age gap (like 10-15 years, reader is aged around late 20s/early 30s but you can do any age), can you tell this man is consuming my every thought? tempted to write a follow-up fic lemme know what u guys think.

You only see him at 7 p.m. — well, 6:55 p.m., if you’re being exact.

You’re already at the nurse’s station, chart pulled up, pen poised, pretending you’re more focused than you are — just waiting for that familiar figure to walk in. The ER is barely holding itself together, seams straining under the weight of another long, unsparing shift. 

You’ve witnessed Mckay go through two scrub changes — both stained, both discarded like paper towels. Dana’s been shouted at by too many angry patients to count, each new confrontation carving deeper lines into her already exhausted face. And if you see Gloria trailing behind Robby one more time, arms crossed, mouth already mid-complaint, you’re sure you’ll have front-row seats to the implosion of Robby’s self-restraint.

The end-of-shift exhaustion hangs in the air, thick enough to taste. It seeps into the walls, the floor, your bones. The scent of bleach, sweat, and cold coffee hangs over everything, a cocktail that clings to your skin long after you clock out. The vending machine’s been emptied of anything worth eating. Your stomach gave up asking hours ago. 

The sun is still trying to claw its way down, its last rays pressing uselessly against frosted windows, too far removed to touch. The ER isn’t made for soft light. It lives under fluorescents, bright and unfeeling, leeching color and kindness from the world, one hour at a time.

It’s then, right on time, he arrives.

Jack Abbot.

Always the same. Dark scrubs, military backpack slung over his shoulder, the strap worn and fraying. His stethoscope loops around his neck like it belongs there and his hair is a little unkempt, like the day’s already dragged its hands through him before the night even starts.

He walks the same unhurried pace every time — not slow, not fast — like a man who’s learned the ER’s tempo can’t be outrun or outpaced. It’ll still be here, bleeding and burning, whether he sprints or crawls. And every day, like clockwork, he arrives at your station at 6:55 p.m., eyes just sharp enough to remind you he hasn’t completely handed himself over to exhaustion.

The handoff always starts the same. Clean. Professional. Efficient. Vitals. Labs. Status updates on the regulars and the barely-holding-ons. Names are exchanged like currency, chart numbers folded into the cadence of clipped sentences, shorthand that both of you learned the hard way. The rhythm of it is steady, like the low, constant beep of monitors in the background.

But tonight, the silence stretches just a little longer before either of you speaks. His eyes skim the board, lingering for half a second too long on South 2. You catch it. You always do.

“She’s still here,” you say, tapping your pen against the chart. “Outlived the odds and half the staff’s patience.”

Jack huffs a quiet sound that’s almost — almost — a laugh. The sound is low and dry, like it hasn’t been used much lately, “Figures.”

His attention shifts, following the slow, inevitable exit of Gloria, her unmistakable white coat vanishing around the corner, Robby sagging against the wall in her wake like a man aging in real-time, “I leave for twelve hours and Gloria’s still haunting the halls. She got squatters’ rights yet?”

You smirk, shaking your head and turning to look in the same direction, “I think Robby’s about five minutes away from filing for witness protection.”

That earns you a real smile — small, fleeting, but it’s there. The kind that only shows up in this place during the quiet moments between shift changes, the ones too short to hold onto and too rare to take for granted. The kind that makes you wonder how often he uses it when he’s not here.

Jack glances at the clock, then back at you, his voice low and dry. “Guess I better go save what’s left of his sanity, huh?”

You shrug, sliding the last of your notes toward him, the pages worn thin at the corners from too many hands, too many days like this. “Too late for that. You’re just here to do damage control.”

His smile lingers a little longer, but his eyes settle on you, the weight of the shift pressing into the space between you both — familiar, constant, unspoken. The clock ticks forward, the moment folding neatly back into the rush of the ER, the five-minute bubble of quiet already closing like it always does.

And then — 7 p.m. — the night begins.

The next few weeks worth of handoffs play out the same way.

The same rhythm. The same quiet trade of names, numbers, and near-misses. The same half-conversations, broken by pagers, interrupted by overhead calls. The same looks, the same five minutes stretched thin between shifts, like the ER itself holds its breath for you both.

But today is different. 

This time, Jack arrives at 6:50 p.m. 

Five minutes earlier than usual — early even for him. 

You glance up from the nurse’s station when you catch the sound of his footsteps long before the clock gives you permission to expect him. Still the same dark scrubs, the military backpack and stethoscope around his neck. 

But it’s not just the arrival time that’s different.

It’s the tea. Balanced carefully in one hand, lid still steaming, sleeve creased from the walk in. Tea — not coffee. Jack Abbot doesn’t do tea. At least, not in all the months you’ve been on this rotation. He’s a coffee-or-nothing type. Strong, bitter, the kind of brew that tastes like the end of the world.

He sets it down in front of you without fanfare, as if it’s just another piece of the shift — like vitals, like the board, like the handoff that always waits for both of you. But the corner of his mouth lifts when he catches the confused tilt of your head.

“Either I’m hallucinating,” you say, “or you’re early and bringing offerings.”

“You sounded like hell on the scanner today,” he says, voice dry but easy. “Figured you’d be better off with tea when you leave.”

You blink at him, then at the cup. Your fingers curl around the warmth. The smell hits you before the sip does — honey, ginger, something gentler than the day you’ve had.

“Consider it hazard pay,” Jack’s mouth quirks, eyes flicking toward the whiteboard behind you. “The board looks worse than usual.”

You huff a dry laugh, glancing at the mess of names and numbers — half of them marked awaiting test results and the rest marked with waiting.

“Yeah,” you say. “One of those days.”

You huff a laugh, the sound pulling the sting from your throat even before the tea does. The day’s been a long one. Endless patient turnover, backlogged labs, and the kind of non-stop tension that winds itself into your muscles and stays there, even when you clock out.

Jack leans his hip against the edge of the counter, and lets the quiet settle there for a moment. No handoff yet. No rush. The world is still turning, but for a brief second it feels like the clock’s hands have stalled, stuck in that thin stretch of stillness before the next wave breaks.

“You trying to throw off the universe?” you ask, half teasing, lifting the cup in mock salute. “Next thing I know, Gloria will come in here smiling.”

Jack huffs, “Let’s not be that ambitious.”

The moment hangs between you, the conversation drifting comfortably into the kind of quiet that doesn’t demand filling. Just the weight of the day, and the knowledge that the night will be heavier.

But then, as always, duty calls. A sharp crackle from his pager splits the stillness like a stone through glass. He straightens, his expression shifting back to business without missing a beat.

You slide the last chart across the desk toward him, your hand brushing the edge of his as you let go. The handoff starts, the ritual resumes. Vitals. Labs. Critical patients flagged in red ink. Familiar, steady, practiced. A dance you both know too well.

But even as the conversation folds back into clinical shorthand, the tea sits between you, cooling slowly, marking the space where the ritual has quietly shifted into something else entirely.

And when the handoff’s done — when the last name leaves your mouth — the clock ticks past 7:05 p.m.

You linger. Just long enough for Jack to glance back your way.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks. The question light, but not casual.

You nod once, the answer already written.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

After that, the handoff’s change. Tea was only the beginning.

It’s always there first — sometimes waiting on the desk before you’ve even finished logging out. The cup’s always right, too. No questions asked, no orders repeated. Jack learns the little details: how you like it, when it's too hot or too cold. When the shift’s been particularly cruel and the hours stretch too thin, he starts adding the occasional muffin or protein bar to the offering, wordlessly placed on the desk beside your notes.

In return, you start doing the same. Only you give him coffee. Black, bitter — too bitter for you — but it's how he likes it and you’ve never had the heart to tell him there’s better tasting coffee out there. Sometimes you give him tea on the calmer nights. A granola bar and an apple join soon after so you know he has something to eat when the food he brings in becomes a ghost of a meal at the back of the staff fridge. A post-it with a doodle and the words “I once heard a joke about amnesia, but I forgot how it goes” gets stuck to his coffee after an especially tough day shift, knowing it’ll bleed into the night.

It’s quiet, easy. Half-finished conversations that start at one handoff and end in the next.

You talk about everything but yourselves.

About the regulars — which patient is faking, which one’s hanging on by more than sheer luck. About the shows you both pretend you don’t have time for but always end up watching, somehow. About staff gossip, bets on how long the new hire will last, debates over whose turn it is to replace the break room coffee filter (spoiler: no one ever volunteers).

But never about what you two have. Never about what any of it means.

You pretend the lines are clear. That it’s all part of the handoff. That it’s just routine.

But the team notices.

Mckay starts hanging around the station longer than necessary at 6:55 p.m., her eyes flicking between the clock and the doorway like she’s waiting for a cue. Dana starts asking loaded questions in passing — light, but pointed. “So, Jack’s shift starting soon?” she’ll say with a knowing tilt of her head.

The worst offenders, though, are Princess and Perlah.

They start a betting pool. Subtle at first — a folded scrap of paper passed around, tucked in their pockets like an afterthought. Before long, half the ER staff’s names are scribbled under columns like ‘Next week’, ‘Next Month’ or ‘Never happening’.

And then one day, you open your locker after a twelve-hour shift, hands still shaking slightly from too much caffeine and too little sleep, and there it is:

A post-it, bright yellow and impossible to miss.

“JUST KISS ALREADY.”

No name. No signature. Just the collective voice of the entire ER condensed into three impatient words.

You stand there longer than you should, staring at it, your chest tightening in that quiet, unfamiliar way that’s got nothing to do with the shift and everything to do with him.

When you finally peel the note off and stuff it deep into your pocket, you find Jack already waiting at the nurse’s station. 6:55 p.m. Early, as always. Tea in hand. Same dark scrubs. Same unhurried stride. Same steady presence.

And when you settle in beside him, brushing just close enough for your shoulder to graze his sleeve, he doesn’t say anything about the flush still warm in your cheeks.

You don’t say anything either.

The handoff begins like it always does. The names. The numbers. The rhythm. The world still spinning the same broken way it always has.

But the note is still in your pocket. And the weight of it lingers longer than it should.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe next month. Maybe never.

The handoff tonight starts like any other.

The same exchange of vitals, the same clipped sentences folding neatly into the rhythm both of you know by heart. The ER hums and flickers around you, always on the edge of chaos but never quite tipping over. Jack’s there, 6:55 p.m., tea in one hand, muffin in the other — that small tired look in place like a badge he never bothers to take off.

But tonight, the air feels heavier. The space between you, thinner.

There’s no reason for it — at least, none you could name. Just a quiet shift in gravity, subtle enough to pretend away, sharp enough to notice. A conversation that drifts lazily off course, no talk of patients, no staff gossip, no television shows. Just silence. Comfortable, but expectant.

And then his hand — reaching past you to grab a chart — brushes yours.

Not the accidental kind. Not the casual, workplace kind. The kind that lingers. Warm, steady, the weight of his palm light against the back of your fingers like the pause before a sentence you’re too scared to finish.

You don’t pull away. Neither does he.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world outside the nurse’s station slows. The monitors still beep, the overhead paging system still hums, the hallway still bustles — but you don’t hear any of it.

There’s just his hand. Your hand. The breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

And then the trauma alert hits.

“MVA — multiple injuries. Incoming ETA two minutes.”

The spell shatters. The moment folds back in on itself like it was never there at all. Jack pulls away first, but not fast. His hand brushes yours one last time as if reluctant, as if the shift might grant you one more second before it demands him back.

But the ER has no patience for almosts.

You both move — the way you always do when the alarms go off, efficient and wordless, sliding back into your roles like armor. He’s already at the doors, gloves snapped on, voice low and level as the gurneys rush in. You’re right behind him, notes ready, vitals called out before the paramedics finish their sentences.

The night swallows the moment whole. The weight of the job fills the space where it had lived.

And when the trauma bay finally quiets, when the adrenaline starts to bleed out of your system and the hallways return to their usual background hum, Jack passes by you at the station, slowing just long enough for your eyes to meet.

Nothing said. Nothing needed.

Almost.

Weeks after the same routine, over and over, the change starts like most things do in your world — quietly, without fanfare.

A new name slips into conversation one morning over burnt coffee and half-finished charting. Someone you met outside the ER walls, outside the endless loop of vitals and crash carts and lives balanced on the edge. A friend of a friend, the kind of person who looks good on paper: steady job, easy smile, around your age, the kind of life that doesn’t smell like antiseptic or ring with the static of trauma alerts.

You don’t even mean to mention them. The words just tumble out between patients, light and careless. Jack barely reacts — just a flicker of his eyes, the barest pause in the way his pen scratches across the chart. He hums, noncommittal, and says, “Good for you.”

But after that, the air between you shifts.

The ritual stays the same — the teas and coffees still show up, the handoffs still slide smooth and clean — but the conversations dull. They're shallower. You talk about patients, the weather. But the inside jokes dry up, and the silences stretch longer, thicker, like neither of you can find the right words to fix the growing space between you.

The new person tries. Dinners that never quite feel right. Movies that blur together. Conversations that stall out halfway through, where you find yourself thinking about Jack’s voice instead of the one across the table. It’s not their fault — they do everything right. They ask about your day, they remember how you take your tea, they show up when they say they will.

But they aren’t him. They never will be.

And the truth of that sits heavy in your chest long before you let it go.

When the end finally comes, it’s as quiet as the beginning. No fight. No grand scene. Just a conversation that runs out of steam and a mutual, tired understanding: this was never going to be enough.

You don’t tell Jack. Not directly. But he knows.

Maybe it’s the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes that night, or the way your usual jokes come slower, dull around the edges. Or maybe it’s just that he knows you too well by now, the way you know him — a kind of understanding that doesn’t need translation.

He doesn’t push. He’s not the kind of man who asks questions he isn’t ready to hear the answers to, and you’ve never been the type to offer up more than what the job requires. But when you pass him the last of the handoff notes that night, his fingers brush yours, and for once, they linger. Just a second longer than they should. Long enough to say everything neither of you will.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. Neutral. Studied, “You get any sleep lately?”

It’s not the question he wants to ask. Not even close. But it’s the one he can ask, the one that fits inside the safe little script you’ve both written for yourselves.

You lie — both of you know it — but he doesn’t call you on it. He just nods, slow and thoughtful, and when he stands, he leaves his coffee behind on the counter. Still hot. Barely touched.

And that’s how you know.

Because Jack never leaves coffee unfinished.

The next handoff, he’s already at the nurse’s station when you arrive — ten minutes early, a tea waiting for you, exactly how you like it. There’s no note, no smile, no pointed comment. Just the small, familiar weight of the cup in your hand and the warmth that spreads through your chest, sharper than it should be.

You settle into the routine, pulling the chart toward you, the silence stretching long and comfortable for the first time in weeks. Jack doesn’t ask, and you don’t offer. But when your fingers brush his as you pass him the logbook, you don’t pull away as quickly as you used to.

And for a moment, that’s enough.

The world around you moves the same way it always does — busy, breathless, unrelenting. But somewhere in the quiet, something unspoken hums between you both. Something that’s been waiting.

They weren’t him. And you weren’t surprised.

Neither was he.

It’s the handoff on a cold Wednesday evening that brings a quiet kind of news — the kind that doesn’t explode, just settles. Like dust.

Jack mentions it in passing, the way people mention the weather or the fact that the coffee machine’s finally given up the ghost. Mid-handoff, eyes on the chart, voice level. 

“Admin gave me an offer.”

Your pen stills, barely a beat, then keeps moving. “Oh yeah?” you ask, as if you hadn’t heard the shift in his tone. As if your chest didn’t tighten the moment the words left his mouth.

The department’s newer, quieter. Fewer traumas. More order. Less of the endless night shift churn that has worn him down to the bone these last few years. It would suit him. You know it. Everyone knows it.

And so you do what you’re supposed to do. What any friend — any coworker — would do. You offer the words, gift-wrapped in all the right tones.

“You’d be great at it.”

The smile you give him is steady, practiced. It reaches your lips. But not your eyes. Never your eyes.

Fortunately, Jack knows you like the back of his hand.

He just nods, the kind of slow, quiet nod that feels more like a goodbye than anything else. The conversation moves on. The night moves on.

You go home, and for him, the patients come and go, machines beep, the usual rhythm swallows the moment whole. But the shift feels different. Like the floor’s shifted under his feet and the walls don’t sit right in his peripherals anymore.

The offer lingers in the air for days. No one mentions it. But he notices things — the way you're quieter, the way you seem almost distant during handoffs. Like the weight of the outcome of the decision’s sitting on your shoulders, heavy and personal.

And then, just as quietly, the tension shifts. No announcement. No conversation. The offer just evaporates. You hear it from Robby two days later, his voice offhand as he scrolls through the department’s scheduling board.

“Abbot passed on the job.”

That’s all he says. That’s all you need.

When your shift ends that day, you linger a little longer than usual. Five minutes past the clock, then ten. Just enough time to catch him walking in. Same dark scrubs, same tired eyes. But this time, no talk of transfers. No talk of moving on.

You slide the handoff notes toward him, and when his fingers brush yours, neither of you let go right away.

“Long night ahead.” you say, your eyes lock onto his.

“Same as always,” he answers, soft but sure.

And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s everything.

But he stayed.

And so did you.

The holiday shift is a quiet one for once.

Not the kind of chaotic disaster you usually brace for — no code blues, no trauma alerts, no frantic scrambling. The ER hums at a lower frequency tonight, as if the whole department is holding its breath, waiting for the chaos to pass and the clock to turn over.

You’ve been working on autopilot for the last few hours. The patient load is manageable, the team is mostly intact, and the usual undercurrent of stress is more like a murmur than a shout. But there's something about the quiet, the softness of it, that makes you more aware of everything, every moment stretching a little longer than it should. It makes the weight of the day feel more pressing, more noticeable.

As the last patient leaves — nothing serious, just another sprain — you settle into your chair by the nurse’s station, the kind of exhausted calm that only comes when the worst is over. The clock inches toward the end of your shift — 6:50 p.m. — but you’re not in any hurry to leave, not yet.

As always, Jack walks in.

You look up just as he passes by the station. His usual tired look is softened tonight, the edges of his exhaustion blunted by something quieter, something a little more worn into his features. The shadows under his eyes are deeper, but there’s a kind of peace in him tonight — a rare thing for the man who’s always running on the edge of burnout.

He stops in front of you, and you can see the small, crumpled bag in his hand. It’s not much, just a bit of wrapping paper that’s a little too wrinkled, but something about it makes your heart give a funny, lopsided beat.

"Here," he says, low, voice a little rougher than usual.

You blink, surprised. “What’s this?”

He hesitates for half a second, like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything at all. “For you.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing. "We don’t usually exchange gifts, Jack."

His smile is small, but it reaches his eyes. "Thought we might make an exception today."

You take the gift from him, feeling the weight of it, simple but somehow significant. You glance down at it, and for a moment, the world feels like it falls away. He doesn't ask you to open it right then, and for a second, you think maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll leave it unopened, just like so many things left unsaid between you two.

But the curiosity wins out.

You peel back the paper slowly. It’s a leather-bound notebook, simple and unassuming. The kind of thing that makes you wonder how he knew.

“I... didn’t know what to get you," Jack says, his voice soft, almost sheepish. "But I figured you'd use it."

The gesture is simple — almost too simple. But it’s not. It’s too personal for just coworkers. Too thoughtful, too quiet. The weight of it sits between the two of you, unspoken, thick in the air.

You look up at him, your chest tight in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. "Thank you," you manage, and you can’t quite shake the feeling that this — this little notebook — means more than just a gift. It’s something that says everything neither of you has been able to put into words.

Jack nods, his smile barely there but real. He takes a step back, as if pulling himself away from something he doesn’t know how to navigate. The silence stretches. But it’s different this time. It’s not awkward. It’s soft. It feels like a bridge between the two of you, built in the quiet spaces you’ve shared and the ones you haven’t.

“I got you something too,” you say before you can stop yourself. When you reach into your pocket, your fingers brush against the small, folded package you had tucked away. 

His brow furrows slightly in surprise, but he takes it from you, and when he unwraps it, it’s just a small, hand-carved keychain you had spotted at a market — simple, not much, but it reminded you of Jack.

He laughs, a short, quiet sound that vibrates in the space between you, and the tension between you two feels almost manageable. “Thank you,” he says, his fingers brushing over the little keychain.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The noise of the ER seems distant, muffled, as if it’s happening in another world altogether. The clock ticks, the final minutes of your shift inching by. But in that small, quiet space, it’s as if time has paused, holding its breath alongside the two of you.

“I guess it’s just... us then, huh?” he says finally, voice softer than before, quieter in a way that feels like more than just the end of a shift.

You nod, and for the first time in ages, the silence between you feels easy. Comfortable.

Just a few more minutes, and the shift will be over. But right now, this — this small, quiet exchange, these moments that don’t need words — is all that matters.

The day shift is winding down when Jack walks in, just before 7 p.m.

The usual rhythm of the ER is fading, the intensity of the day finally trailing off as the night shift prepares to take over. He arrives just as the last few nurses finish their rounds, their faces tired but steady as they begin to pass the baton.

But something feels off. The station is quieter than usual, the hum of conversation quieter, the buzz of the monitors almost unnaturally sharp in the sudden stillness. Jack glances around, noting the lack of a familiar face, the way the department feels a little emptier, more distant. He spots Dana and Robby at the nurse’s station, exchanging murmurs, and immediately knows something’s not right.

You’re not there.

He doesn’t immediately ask. Instead, he strides toward the counter, his mind racing to calculate the cause. A sick day? A last-minute emergency? Something’s happened, but he can’t quite place it. The thought that it’s anything serious doesn’t sit well in his chest, and yet, it presses down harder with every minute that passes.

It’s 6:55 p.m. now, and the clock keeps ticking forward.

By 7:00, Jack is halfway through his handoff, scanning the patient charts and mentally preparing for the usual chaos, but his focus keeps drifting.

Where are you?

He finally asks. Not loudly, not with urgency, but quietly enough that only Robby and Dana catch the edge in his voice. “Have they called in tonight?”

Before he even has a chance to follow up with your name, Dana looks up at him, a tired smirk on her face. “No. No word.”

Robby shakes his head, looking between Dana and Jack. “We haven’t heard anything. Thought you’d know.”

He nods, swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat. He tries not to show it — not to let it show in the way his shoulders stiffen or the slight furrow between his brows. He finishes up the handoff as usual, but his mind keeps returning to you, to the way the shift feels off without your presence, the absence weighing heavy on him.

By the time the rest of the night staff rolls in, Jack's focus is split. He’s still mentally running through the patient roster, but he’s half-waiting, half-hoping to see you come walking to the nurses station, just like always.

It doesn't happen.

And then, as if on cue, a message comes through — a notification from HR. You’d left for the day in a rush. Your parent had been hospitalised out of town, and you’d rushed off without a word. No call. No notice.

Jack stops in his tracks. The room feels suddenly too small, the quiet too loud. His fingers hover over the screen for a moment before he puts his phone back into his pocket, his eyes flicking over it again, like it will make more sense the second time.

His mind moves quickly, fast enough to keep up with the frantic pace of the ER around him, but his body is still, frozen for a heartbeat longer than it should be. He doesn’t know what to do with this — this sudden, heavy weight of worry and concern.

The team, in their usual way, rallies. They pull a care package together like clockwork — snacks, tissues, a soft blanket someone swears helps during long waits in hospital chairs. A card circulates, scrawled with signatures and the usual messages: thinking of you, hang in there, we’ve got you. It’s routine, something they’ve done for each other countless times in the past, a small gesture in the face of someone’s crisis.

But Jack doesn’t sign the card.

He sits quietly in the break room for a while, the weight of his concern simmering beneath the surface of his usual calm. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel — concern for you, for the situation, for how the ER feels without you there. The package is ready, and with it, so is a quiet, unsaid piece of himself.

When the others step away, he tucks something else inside, sliding it between the blanket and the box of cheap chocolates the team threw in at the last minute — an envelope, plain, unmarked, the handwriting inside careful but unsteady, like the words cost more than he expected.

Take care of them. The place isn’t the same without you.

Short. Simple. Honest in a way he rarely lets himself be. It isn’t signed. It doesn’t need to be. You’d know.

The team doesn’t notice. Or if they do, they make no comment on it. The ER continues to move, steady in its rhythm, even as Jack’s world feels like it’s been thrown off balance. The package is sent. The shift carries on. And Jack waits. He waits, in the quiet space between you and him, in the absence of your presence, in the weight of things he can’t say.

The clock ticks on. And with it, Jack misses you a little more that night.

Two weeks.

That’s how long the space at the nurse’s station stayed empty. That’s how long the chair at the nurse’s station sat empty — the one you always claimed without thinking. Nobody touched it. Nobody had to say why. It just sat there — a quiet, hollow thing that marked your absence more clearly than any words could’ve.

Two weeks of missing the familiar scrape of your pen against the chart. Two weeks of shift changes stripped down to bare-bones handoffs, clipped and clinical, no space for the soft edges of inside jokes or the quiet pauses where your voice used to fit. Two weeks of coffee going cold, of tasting far more bitter than it did before. Two weeks of the ER feeling off-kilter, like the clock’s gears had ground themselves down and no one could quite put the pieces back.

When you walk back through the automatic doors, it’s like the air catches on itself — that split-second stall before everything moves forward again. You don’t announce yourself. No one really does. The place just swallows you back up, the way it does to anyone who leaves and dares to return.

You clock in that morning. The shift goes on as normal, as normal as the ER can be. The others greet you like they’ve been told to act normal. Quick nods, small smiles. Robby pats your shoulder, light and brief. Dana leaves an extra coffee by the monitors without a word.

When the clock hands swing toward 6:50 p.m., you’re already at the nurses station. Sitting at the desk like you’d never left. Like nothing’s changed, like no time has passed at all. Like the last two weeks were some other life. Scrubs pressed, badge clipped at the same off-center tilt it always is. But your hands hover just slightly, resting on the chart without writing, pen poised like your mind hasn’t quite caught up to your body being back.

The air feels different — not heavy, not light, just suspended. Stalled.

And then you hear them. Footsteps.

Steady. Familiar. The cadence you’ve known for months. 

Jack.

He stops a few feet from you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, the faintest crease between his brow like he hasn’t quite convinced himself this isn’t some kind of trick.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

No patient names. No vitals. No shorthand. The handoff script that’s lived on your tongues for months goes untouched. Instead, you stand there, surrounded by the soft beep of monitors and the shuffle of overworked staff, wrapped in the kind of silence that says everything words can’t.

It’s a strange sort of silence. Not awkward. Just full.

For a long moment, the chaos of the ER fades to the edges, the overhead pages and the low mechanical hums turning to static. You look at him, and it’s like seeing him for the first time all over again. The small lines around his eyes seem deeper. The tension at his shoulders, usually buried beneath practiced calm, sits plainly in view.

You wonder if it’s been there the whole time. You wonder if he noticed the same about you.

His eyes meet yours, steady, unguarded. The first thing that breaks the quiet isn’t a handoff or a patient update.

“I missed this.”

The corner of his mouth twitches into something that doesn’t quite make it to a smile. When he replies, it’s not rushed. It’s not easy. But it’s the truth.

“I missed you.”

Simple. Honest. No side steps. No softening the edges with humor. Just the truth. The words sit there between you, bare and uncomplicated. For a second, the world feels smaller — just the two of you, the hum of machines, and the weight of two weeks' worth of things unsaid.

His gaze shifts, softer now, searching your face for something, or maybe just memorizing it all over again.

“How are they?” he asks, voice low, careful. Not clinical, not casual — the way people ask when they mean it.

You swallow, the answer lingering behind your teeth. You hadn’t said much to anyone, not even now. But his question doesn’t pry, it just waits.

“They’re stable,” you say after a moment, the words simple but heavy. “Scared. Tired. I stayed until I couldn’t anymore.”

Jack nods once, slow and sure, as if that answer was all he needed. His hand flexes slightly at his side, like there’s more he wants to do, more he wants to say — but this is still the space between shifts, still the same ER where everything gets held back for later.

But his voice is steady when he replies.

“I’m glad you were with them.”

A pause. One of those long, silent stretches that says everything the words don’t.

“And I’m glad you came back.”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t have to.

And then, the clock ticks forward. The night shift begins. The world presses on, the monitors start beeping their endless song, and the next patient is already waiting. But the weight of those words lingers, tucked just beneath the surface.

And this time — neither of you pretend it didn’t happen.

But it’s still not quite the right time.

Jack’s walls aren’t the obvious kind. They don’t come with sharp edges or cold shoulders. His are quieter, built from small hesitations — the steady, practiced way he keeps his distance, the careful deflection tucked behind dry humor and midnight coffee refills. And at the center of it, two stubborn truths: he’s older, and he’s widowed.

Being widowed is a quiet shadow that doesn’t lift, not really. It taught him how easily a future can disappear, how love doesn’t stop the world from taking what it wants. He doesn’t talk about her, not much — not unless the shift runs long and the coffee’s gone cold — but the space she left is always there, shaping the way he looks at you, at himself, at the idea of starting over. Jack tells himself it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you. Not when you’ve still got years ahead to figure out what you want. Not when he’s already stood graveside, watching the world shrink down to a headstone and a handful of fading memories. 

You’re younger. Less worn down. Less jaded. He tells himself — on the long drives home, when sleep refuses to come — that you deserve more time than he can offer. More time to figure out your world without him quietly shaping the edges of it. It’s the sort of difference people pretend doesn’t matter, until it does. Until he’s standing beside you, catching himself in the reflection of the trauma room glass, wondering how the years settled heavier on him than on you. Until he’s half a sentence deep into asking what you’re doing after shift, and pulling back before the words can leave his mouth.

Because no matter how much space he tries to give, the part of him that’s still grieving would always leave its mark. And you deserve more than the half-mended heart of a man who’s already learned how to live without the things he loves.

And you?

You’ve got your own reasons.

Not the ones anyone could spot at a glance, not the kind that leave scars or stories behind. Just a quiet, low-grade fear. The kind that hums beneath your skin, born from years of learning that getting too comfortable with people — letting yourself want too much — always ends the same way: doors closing, phones going silent, people walking away before you even notice they’ve started.

So you anchor yourself to the things that don’t shift. Your routine. Your steadiness. The hours that stretch long and hard but never ask you to be anything more than reliable. Because when you’re needed, you can’t be left behind. When you’re useful, it hurts less when people don’t stay.

Jack’s careful, and you’re cautious, and the space between you both stays exactly where it’s always been: not quite close enough.

So you both settle for the in-between. The ritual. The routine. Shared drinks at handoff. Inside jokes sharp enough to leave bruises. Half-finished conversations, always interrupted by codes and pages and the sharp ring of phones.

The ER runs like clockwork, except the clock’s always broken, and in the background the rest of the team watches the same loop play out — two people orbiting closer, always just out of reach.

The bets from Princess and Perlah are at the heaviest they’ve ever been, and so are their pockets. There are no more ‘Never happening’ — everyone’s now in the ‘Next week’ or ‘Next Month’. The others have stopped pretending they don’t see what’s happening. In fact, they’re practically counting the days, biding their time like a clock ticking in reverse, waiting for that moment when everything finally clicks into place.

At first, it’s subtle. 

One less handoff cut short by timing. One more overlapping hour “by accident.”

You and Jack work together more and more now, whether it's trauma cases, code blue alerts, or the quieter moments between chaotic shifts when the floor clears enough to breathe. The careful choreography of your daily dance is starting to wear thin around the edges, like a well-loved sweater that’s a little too threadbare to keep pretending it’s still holding together.

The soft exchanges in the middle of emergency rooms — the handoffs that are always clean and professional — have started to bleed into something else. You don’t mean for it to happen. Neither of you do.

But you find yourselves walking the same hallways just a bit more often. You swap shifts with an ease you hadn’t before. Jack’s voice lingers a little longer when he says, “Good night, see you tomorrow,” and the weight of that goodbye has started to feel a little like an unspoken promise.

But it’s still not enough to break the silence.

The team watches, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but neither of you says a word about it. You can’t, because the truth is, it’s easier to let things stay where they are. Safer, maybe. To just let the rhythm of the shifts carry you through without the sudden plunge of vulnerability that might shatter it all.

Still, they see it.

Dana, ever the romantic, gives you that knowing, almost conspiratorial look when she catches you making eye contact with Jack across the floor. “You two need a room,” she’ll joke, but it’s always followed by that soft exhale, like she’s waiting for the punchline you won’t give her.

Princess’ and Perlah’s bets are always louder, and always in a language neither of you understand. Every shift, they pass by the nurse’s station with sly grins, casting their predictions with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re talking about.

“Next month, I’m telling you. It’s happening in the next month. Mark my words.”

Neither you or Jack respond to the teasing. But it’s not because you don’t hear it. It’s because, in the quietest corners of your mind, the thoughts are too sharp, too close, and there’s something terrifying about acknowledging them.

The room holds its breath for you both, watching the space between you become thinner with every passing minute. You can’t feel the ticking of time, but the team certainly can.

And so it goes. Days blend into each other. Hours pass in a blur of frantic beeps and calls, hands working together with that comfortable rhythm, but always keeping just a little distance — just a little bit too much space.

But it’s getting harder to ignore the truth of what everyone else already knows. You’re both circling something, something that neither of you is brave enough to catch yet. 

Almost.

Almost always. But never quite.

The shift is brutal.

The ER’s pulse is erratic, like a heart struggling to maintain rhythm. The trauma bays are full, the waiting room is overflowing, and the chaos — the relentless, grinding chaos — is a constant roar in your ears. Alarms bleed into each other. The phone rings off the hook. Machines chirp, beds squeak, someone shouts for help, and the scent of antiseptic is powerless against the metallic undertone of blood lingering in the air.

It’s the kind of shift that makes even seasoned hands tremble. The kind that swallows hours whole, leaves your back sore and your mind frayed, and still, the board never clears.

At some point, you’re not sure when, maybe after the fifth code blue or the eighth set of vitals skimming the edge of disaster, Robby mutters something sharp and low under his breath, peels his phone out of his pocket, and steps away from the desk.

“Calling Abbot,” he says, voice tight. “We’re underwater.”

Jack isn’t due for another two hours, but the call doesn’t surprise you. The ER doesn’t care about schedules. And Jack — he shows up twenty minutes later.

His eyes meet yours across the station, and there’s no need for words. Just a nod. Just the quiet understanding that this isn’t going to be easy, if such a thing even exists.

The clock ticks and skips, seconds folding into one another, meaningless, until finally, the worst of it comes.

Trauma alert.

A car accident. The usual chaos.

Rollover on the interstate, the kind that dispatch voices always sound too steady while reporting. The kind where the EMTs work in grim silence. Two patients this time. A married couple.

The usual chaos unfolds the second the gurneys crash through the double doors — shouting, gloves snapping on, IV lines threading, vitals barking out like a list of crimes.

But this time, it’s different.

You notice it before anyone says it aloud: the husband’s hand is tangled in his wife’s, their fingers blood-slick but still locked together, knuckles white with the sheer force of holding on. Their wedding rings glinted under the harsh fluorescents, a tiny, defiant flash of gold against the chaos.

Neither of them will let go. Even unconscious, the connection stays.

You’re already in motion. Jack too. The usual rhythm, muscle memory sharp as ever. But something in the air feels different. He glances once at the woman, blood matted in her hair, her left hand still clutching the man’s. The rings. The way their bodies lean toward each other even in a state of injury, as if muscle memory alone could keep them tethered

And for just a second, he falters.

You almost miss it, but you don’t.

Jack works the wife’s side, but her injuries speak for themselves. Her chart is a litany of injuries: internal bleeding, tension pneumothorax, skull fracture.

You watch Jack work the case like his hands are moving on instinct, but his face gives him away. It’s too quiet. Too closed off. You see it all in real-time — the silent war behind his eyes, the years catching up to him in the span of a heartbeat. The lines around his mouth tightening, the weight of something too personal rising behind the clinical routine.

You know who he’s thinking about. 

It’s her — it’s her face he sees.

Jack’s gloves are stained, jaw tight, voice steady but clipped as the monitor flatlines for the third time. You watch. You press hands to bleeding wounds that won’t stop. You call out numbers you barely register. But the inevitable creeps in anyway.

At 6:41 p.m., time of death is called.

No one speaks, not right away. The monitors fall silent, the room too. The husband, still unconscious, is wheeled away. His hand finally slips from hers, left empty on the gurney.

It’s Jack that calls it. He stands over the woman’s bed for a beat too long, the silence of it all thickening in the air. His shoulders sag ever so slightly, the weight of it settling in — the anger, the grief, the helplessness. There’s no denying it, the hours and hours of labor, of lives teetering between life and death, have begun to take their toll.

You watch him and know the exact moment it breaks him.

He doesn’t even need to say it. You can see it in the way he moves — stiff, distant, a bit lost. His hand hovers by his stethoscope, his fingers curling slightly before dropping. The tension in his face is the kind you’ve seen only when someone is holding themselves together by a thread.

He catches your eye briefly, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared grief between the two of you that’s settled like an old wound, reopened. He turns away before you can even ask, stepping out of the trauma bay and heading toward the on-call room, his pace a little slower than usual, weighed down by more than just the fatigue.

The shift drags on, but the tension, the heaviness, only grows. Finally, when it seems like it might never end, you make the decision. You leave your post, quietly slipping away from the chaos, and find your way to the on-call room where Jack is already sitting.

It’s dark in there but you don’t need to see him to know what’s there. His chest rises and falls with a weary sigh. There’s nothing to say at first. Nothing that would make this any easier, and you both know it.

You sit beside him in silence, the space between you both filled with the weight of the night, of the patient lost, of the things neither of you can change. You don’t push. You don’t ask. You simply exist in the same room, the same quiet, like two people who are too exhausted, too worn, to speak but too connected to stay apart.

Minutes pass. Long ones.

It’s Jack who breaks the silence, his voice a little rough, like it’s been buried too long.

“I kept thinking we’d have more time,” he says. It’s not addressed to you, not really — more confession than conversation, the kind of truth that’s spent too long locked behind his ribs.

You don’t answer right away, because you know the ache that lives under those words. You’ve felt it too. So you sit there, listening, the silence making room for him to say the rest.

And then, softer, barely above a breath —

“She looked like her. For a second — I thought it was her.”

The words hang in the dark, heavier than any silence.

You reach over, placing a hand gently on his. Your fingers brush his skin, warm, steady. You just sit there, the two of you, in the dark — the only light seeping in from under the door, pale and distant, like the world outside is somewhere neither of you belong right now.

Minutes pass, slow and shapeless, the kind of time that doesn’t measure in hours or shifts or chart updates. Just quiet. Just presence. Just the shared, unspoken ache of people who’ve both lost too much to say the words out loud.

When he finally exhales — long, steady, but still weighted — you feel the faintest shift in the air. Not fixed. Not fine. But breathing. Alive. Here.

When his gaze lifts, meeting yours — searching, fragile, waiting for something he can’t name — you finally offer it, soft but certain.

“We don’t get forever,” you whisper. “But we’ve still got now.”

And it’s enough. Maybe not to fix anything. Maybe not to make the night any less heavy. But enough to pull Jack through to the other side.

He exhales, slow and quiet, the tension in his chest loosening like it’s finally allowed to. The moment is small — no grand revelations, no dramatic declarations.

Just two people, breathing in the same quiet, carrying the same scars.

When the next shift change arrives, the rhythm of the ER doesn’t quite return to normal.

The pulse of the place still beats steady — monitors chiming, phones ringing, stretchers wheeling in and out — but the handoff feels different. Like the pattern has shifted beneath your feet.

The familiar routine plays out — the smooth exchange of patient reports, the clipped shorthand you both know by heart, the easy banter that’s always filled the spaces between — but now it lingers. The words sit heavier. The pauses stretch longer. The politeness that once held everything in place has softened, frayed at the edges by the weight of what’s left unsaid.

You stay five minutes later. Then ten.

Neither of you points it out. Neither of you needs to.

The silence isn’t awkward — it’s intentional. It hangs easy between you, unhurried and unforced. The kind of silence built on understanding rather than distance. Like the quiet knows something you both haven’t said out loud yet.

The rest of the team doesn’t call you on it. But they see it. And you catch the glances. 

You catch Dana’s raised eyebrow as she clocks out, her expression all knowing, no judgment — just quiet observation, like she’s been waiting for this to finally click into place. Robby doesn’t even bother hiding his smirk behind his coffee cup this time, his glance flicking from you to Jack and back again, as if he’s already tallying another win in the betting pool.

And still, no one says a word.

The ER lights flicker, humming softly against the early morning haze as the next shift trickles in, tired and rumpled, faces scrubbed clean and coffee cups refilled. The world moves on — patients, pages, paperwork — but Jack doesn’t.

His glance finds you, steady and certain, like an anchor after too many months of pretending there wasn’t a current pulling you both closer all along. There’s no question in it. No hesitation. Just quiet agreement.

And this time, neither of you heads for the door alone.

You fall into step beside him, the silence still stretched soft between you, your shoulder brushing his just slightly as you cross through the automatic doors and into the cool, early light. The air is crisp against your scrubs, the hum of the hospital fading behind you, replaced by the quiet sprawl of the parking lot and the slow stretch of a sky trying to shake off the dark.

The weight you’ve both carried for so long — all the almosts, the what-ifs, the walls and the fear — feels lighter now. Still there, but not crushing. Not anymore.

It isn’t just a handoff anymore. It hasn’t been for a while, but now it’s undeniable.

You glance toward him as the quiet settles between you one last time before the day fully wakes up, and he meets your look with that same soft steadiness — the kind that doesn’t demand, doesn’t rush, just holds. Like the space between you has finally exhaled, like the moment has finally caught up to the both of you after all this time skirting around it.

His hand finds yours, slow and certain, like it was always supposed to be there. No grand gesture, no sharp intake of breath, just the gentle slide of skin against skin — warm, grounding, steady. His thumb brushes the back of your hand once, absentminded and careful, like he’s memorizing the feel of this — of you — as if to make sure it’s real.

The world beyond hums back to life, ready for another day beginning. But here, in this sliver of space, between what you’ve always been and whatever comes next — everything stays still.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

You don’t need to.

It’s in the way his fingers curl just slightly tighter around yours, in the way the last of the shift’s exhaustion softens at the edges of his expression. In the way the air feels different now — less heavy, less waiting. Like the question that’s lived between you for months has finally answered itself.

The first thin blush of sunrise creeps over the parking lot, painting long soft shadows across the cracked pavement, and neither of you move. There’s no rush now, no clock chasing you forward, no unspoken rule pushing you apart. Just this. Just you and him, side by side, hand in hand, standing still while the world stumbles back into motion.

It’s the start of something else.

And you both know it. Without needing to say a thing.

©yakshxiao 2025.

[gojodickbig]

tattoo artist!suguru x f!reader.

conts: smut!!!!

wc: 2,4k.

divider from @uzmacchiato !!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

“look at you,” suguru growled, his tone low and dripping with lust. his hips slammed into you, each thrust forcing a gasp from your lips as he bent you over the workstation in the back of his studio. “already so fucking wet for me, squeezing me like you don’t want me to stop.”

“i don’t,” you whimpered, your voice breaking into a moan as he drove deeper, harder, every inch of him stretching you in ways that left your mind spinning.

“yeah?” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as one hand gripped your hip, holding you steady, while the other slid between your thighs. his fingers were rough but skilled, sliding over your slick folds before circling your clit with deliberate pressure. “say it, baby. tell me how much you love the way i’m fucking you.”

“god, suguru,” you cried, your nails clawing at the surface of the table, trying to keep yourself grounded. “you feel so good—so fucking good, i can’t—”

“you can,” he cut you off, his voice a dangerous growl. “and you will. you’re gonna take every inch of me, aren’t you, princess?”

“yes,” you gasped, your thighs trembling as he thrust harder, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. “yes, I’ll take it. fuck, i’ll take all of it—”

“good fucking girl,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he angled your hips higher, the motion driving him deeper. “been waiting to do this since you walked in here weeks ago.”

his words sliced through the fog of pleasure in your mind.

“that first day,” he continued, his voice rough and low, “you came in here all innocent, sitting in my chair, letting me touch you so deliberately while i worked on your tattoo.” he thrust hard for emphasis, making you cry out, the sound echoing through the small studio. “all i could think about was bending you over this table and fucking you until you couldn’t walk straight. i couldn’t get the image out of my fucking head.” his voice lowered, becoming more husky, the memory turning him on even more. “bet you would’ve let me fuck you right then, huh?”

his confession made your walls clench tight around him, and he groaned, his voice low and thick with approval.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he rasped, his hips slamming into you at a punishing pace. “so tight. like you were made for me.” his hand slid up your back, pressing you harder into the table as he kept talking, the filth in his voice making your head spin.

“this is what i wanted,” he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “to spread you out on my workstation and fuck you until you’re screaming for me. until you’re dripping down my cock and begging me for more.”

“oh my god, suguru,” you gasped, your words tumbling out between desperate cries. “more! i need more, please!”

“more, huh?” he chuckled darkly, pulling out and slamming back in, his cock thrusting deep and deliberate. “you want more of me? want me to fuck you harder?”

“yes! yes, please!” your words were barely coherent as his pace quickened. “you feel s—so good inside me!”

“that’s it,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “let everyone fucking hear you then. let them know how good i’m making you feel.”

the sound of your moans echoed through the room, mixing with the sharp slap of his hips against yours. his fingers found your clit again, circling it faster, more deliberately, as his cock dragged over every sensitive spot inside you.

“you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he groaned. “so fucking wet, so tight. i could stay buried in you all night.”

“feel — feel you everywhere, sugu,” your voice trembling as the pressure in your core built higher and higher. “s —agh! so deep! don’t stop! it fee—ah! feels so fucking gooood!” you moaned, your back arching as you instinctively pushed back against him.

“don’t worry, pretty girl,” he murmured darkly. “i’m not stopping until i make you come all over my cock.”

his thumb pressed even more harder against your clit, his pace relentless as his other hand tightened its grip on your hip. you were trembling now, your body arching into his as you teetered on the edge of release.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” he growled, his voice rough. “i can feel it. your pretty pussy’s so tight around me—so fucking desperate to let go. come on, baby, give it to me. show me how good I’m making you feel.”

“i’m—fuck, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he commanded, his voice sharp and thick with need. “cum for me, princess. let. me. feel. you.”

you shattered beneath him, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you. your cry filled the room, your walls clenching around him so tightly it dragged a guttural groan from his chest.

“good fucking girl,” he breathed, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own high. with a low, raw moan, he thrust deep one last time, spilling into you, the heat of him making you shudder again.

for a long moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. geto pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

“you look good like this,” he murmured, his tone smug as his fingers traced the design of the tattoo still visible on your hip. “might have to ink you up again, just so i have an excuse to keep you coming back.”

you let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to muster a retort. but as his lips curled into a wicked grin against your skin, you realized you didn’t mind the idea one bit.

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[peascribbles]

𝑰𝒏 𝑨 𝑭𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘

Your dragon enjoys basking for hours at a time, sweetened by your company. Your meddlesome mortal needs interfere. He'll oblige them if it means you'll stay. dragon!sylus x gn!reader, suggestive themes, dragon tendencies, horn fondling (not a euphemism), using his wing as a parasol; 1.5k wc

When the sun climbs to its summit each day, he flees the shrouded depths of his lair to seek it out.

He lies motionless on his back, wings splayed out wide under him, on his favourite perch overlooking the plains beyond Tarus City. Blissful as he luxuriates in the searing noon heat. No visible movement of his chest nor any flickering behind his eyelids. Limbs inert.

Sunbathing is too mild a term for this pastime of his. Sunbathers hum and breathe and make idle chatter. Sunbathers must flip themselves every so often to not burn. What your dragon does has more resemblance to embracing scorching oblivion. Some incorrigible, archaic ritual where the intention is seemingly to absorb the sun itself, inanimate as a rock.

Which is quite the predicament for you, given you've been held captive on top of him for over an hour, his arms locked around your waist. The unforgiving light scalds your exposed back, nape, and legs. Any longer trapped here, and you'll be cooked alive.

Your attempts to squirm out of his grip make his arms constrict around you further, a python's suffocating coil. Pounding fists against his hard chest til they ache. No response. Irate hisses rising into whisper-shouts met with tomblike silence. Nothing rouses him out of his sunbaked catatonia.

You have no choice but to use your final resort.

Stretching your arms forward, you grip the base of the horns which crown his head and stroke them, twisting your wrists in circular motions. Lavishing particular attention on the pinkish, tender area where horn and scalp meet, hidden in the silken nest of his hair. His most sensitive spot.

No other soul has touched me here, he told you through a shaky breath when you first reached for his horns. Tentative yet curious.

Thank the stars for that, you thought, seeing how he unravelled for you despite your inexperience, the most pliant he'd ever been. Your movements were clumsy, unused to handling the unusual growths, and still he sighed with profound satisfaction. Ravenous when he took you that night.

Since those early days, you've had plenty of time to refine your technique. You work your way up the length of them, and back down, slow caresses with fingers which have learned every cragged knob, whorl, and ridge along the protrusions.

He awakens with a gutteral and sonorous growl, nearly a snarl, which rattles your bones.

Freeing one arm from around you, the tips of a clawed hand rake up your back, your sensitised nerves pricking in response. They come to rest around your nape, grooves forming on the delicate skin there. You're not sure if it's a warning or a promise.

"Speak," he demands, voice and slit eyes like smouldering coals.

Satisfied now that you've got his attention, you stop stroking him, and he does let out a vicious snarl at that. Claws digging in, nudging his horns back into your hand. You correct this grievous error posthaste, and talk only when he seems appeased.

"Need you to let me up, beloved."

The vice of his remaining arm around your waist tightens contrary to your request.

You can't find it in you to be surprised. It's in his nature to be possessive in his efforts to guard prized treasures, stow them close at hand; an instinct that turns on you when you're within reach. If it wasn't for this particular sensitivity of his, the prospect of prying yourself away would be no more feasible than a thief escaping with even a single golden coin from his hoard.

"Why should I?" he asks in a low rumble, suppressed thunder.

"If you don't, I'll turn into smoked meat." You run your hands back down his horns, smiling when an involuntary, pleased trill escapes him. "Remember, us humans don't have tough skin like you, nor scales to protect themselves from the harsh sun. We can't withstand it for very long."

He squints disbelievingly at you. Using the leverage of his claws on your neck, he moves your head around, up and down, left and right, studying you with a serious expression.

"You seem fine to me."

"It's not my face, but the rest of me that's suffering the most damage." Once you reach the base of his horns again, you let go of them and slide your hands down to cup his face, tamping the protest that boils in him. Your steady gaze sinking into those molten pools of his.

"Trust me in this, my dragon. I know my body best." You follow the hard planes of his jaw up to scratch behind his ears, and he leans into your touch. An encouraging sign. One more push. "I'm not plotting to leave you. I only want to get out of the sun for a moment."

For a few beats, he simply keeps you affixed on top of him. Half lidded eyes regarding you with an intensity that stokes hot embers in your belly, licking up your spine.

He mulls the verity of your words, flexing and easing his grip on your neck, caught in indecision. Should he let the thief run away with his precious coin? Keep you bound to him, or release you?

You see his decision is made when his pupils distort into narrow slits, a triumphant upward slant to his lips.

"Neither of those will do," he murmurs.

His claws unfurl from your nape, undoubtedly leaving marks that will linger there. The unyielding arm around your waist stays. He doesn't set you free; instead, he rolls to his side, cushioning your head from the ground with the crook of his elbow. The rest of you lands onto the dirt.

This makeshift pillow is rigid. Rather than soft flesh, hard black scales cover his forearms. An ache in your neck looms in the near future. Still, you cannot budge. In this new position you're pulled even closer, face-first into his chest, staring at your bewildered reflection in the heart-gem embedded there.

You glance skyward in time to see a broad wing stretch out above you. Obscures the clouds, casting a great shadow. The strangest canopy.

"There. You're away from the sun. Needy mortal." He chuffs and clicks his tongue. Settles into a comfortable position. "Don't interrupt me again."

As quickly as he'd sprung back to life, he closes his eyes to bask again, returning to some other realm your human sensibilities can't reach.

His brusque manner sparks a flicker of irritation in you. You hadn't been given an opportunity to say a word. Determined to rouse him again, if only to have your grievances heard, you resume the delicate attack on his horns—but aside from a subtle twitch, you garner no response. A clear enough message: he won't be disturbed.

"Insufferable lizard," you mutter.

To your mild annoyance, this impromptu arrangement of his making succeeds in cooling your ailing body down, restoring your energy little by little. There's nothing to do but lie here, ensnared in his arms. Time slows into treacle.

In this quiet refuge, now that your scaleless, vulnerable body is no longer in peril, the sublime begins to unfurl, petal by petal.

You examine the membrane of his wing shielding you, a living canvas hung over the sturdy frame of his bones. Once dark as his polished obsidian scales, the expanse of skin is translucent, incandescent in the sun, unveiling an intricate web of blood vessels beneath it. As if you're sitting inside an exquisite tapestry, diffused with muted sunset.

It takes an hour to trace every branching vein in his wing to its end.

His face is the next muse for your wandering eyes. You turn to face him. Other than enduring warmth, there are no signs of life next to you. He might as well be a marble statue—a magnum opus, to be sure, sculpted by a master's hands. A study in stillness. Peace looks breathtaking on him. The space between his brows unmarred. Fine, silverspun lashes fanning over his cheek. Sunlight kissing his features with the reverence of an old lover.

You want to kiss him too. But you won't, not until he's with you again.

While you wait, you take in lungfuls of the air he isn't using. His scent fills you. He smells of the earth. Not fresh soil, yet to be tilled, but of broken land; blood-drenched, soaked in rusting blades. You burrow your nose against his neck to take in more of it. Closer now, hidden undertones, of the first dew-sweet sprout that pushes through the gaps in cobblestones, of wild weeds that snake over crumbling spires. Life baptised in fire.

His heart begins to stir underneath your palm. Listen close. Feel how it beats for you. Know that this is what it means to love an untamed creature such as him, a being made for sun and wind and cloying heat.

Your body smeared with dirt. Suspended in amber glow. Heaven, in the shade of a dragon's wing.

[misswynters]

Gilded Cage part two

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You're parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You're mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That's when you first met ekko, the firelights' leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. "enemies to lovers"

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, drugs, kissing, death!, suggestive, kinda grinding against each other (clothed tho), angst

requested. by anon

a/n. it's more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) let me know if there’s any mistakes so i may fix it.

Darkness. An oppressive, suffocating void that seemed to stretch endlessly. You floated in its cold embrace, weightless yet crushingly burdened by the weight of your own thoughts. Memories flickered like dying embers, elusive and fragmentary. You could barely recall where you had been, what had happened, or how you had ended up here. The edges of recollection teased you: Ekko’s voice, steady and warm, calling your name. The heavy press of bodies at the Last Drop, the tang of alcohol mingling with smoke. Then a sharp, searing sting in your neck—and the world spiraling into oblivion. Now, you were adrift, lost in a sea of disjointed images and emotions.

Your mind was an unrelenting storm, twisting and turning with fears and insecurities you thought you had buried long ago. The sound of Margot’s cruel laughter cut through the fog like a blade, her words threading through your subconscious like venom. “He doesn’t care about you,” her voice echoed, dark and mocking. “You’re nothing to him.” You wanted to fight against it, but the darkness clung to you, invasive, as it dragged you deeper. Somewhere, faint and distant, there were voices that were sharp and unfamiliar. They seemed to be arguing, but the words were muffled.

“She’s worth more alive,” one voice said, cutting through the haze like a knife, dragging you closer to consciousness.

“Though, Dead might be less trouble,” another replied, cold and indifferent, a tone that sent a shiver of dread down your spine.

The words clawed at the edges of your awareness, snapping you back toward the surface of reality. Your body felt heavy, impossibly sluggish, but you fought against the pull of unconsciousness with everything you had. It was as if your mind and body were at war, one was desperate to wake up and the other held captive by a paralyzing weight. Slowly, agonizingly, your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh glare of a fluorescent light stabbed into your vision.

The room around you was cold and unforgiving, bathed in the sterile glow of artificial lighting that illuminated every inch of its metallic surfaces. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of rust and oil, and beneath it all lingered something acrid and chemical, clinging to your nostrils like a warning. The faint hum of machinery thrummed in the background, a low, ominous noise that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. You tried to move, but your arms were pinned to the cold metal chair beneath you, thick leather straps biting into your wrists. A matching set bound your ankles, and as you tested the restraints, they didn’t budge an inch.

A spike of panic shot through you as the reality of your situation set in. Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as your eyes darted around the room. The Chem Barons loomed before you, seated around an oval table at the far end of the room. The glow from the monitors lining the walls illuminated their faces, casting their expressions in stark relief. Each face was a mask of greed, malice, and twisted amusement, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent as they spoke about you as though you weren’t even there.

“She’s valuable,” one of them said, his voice carrying a sickening undertone of satisfaction. “Alive, she’s worth a fortune to topside. They’ll pay anything to get their hands on her.”

“Dead might be easier to deal with,” another replied, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “Still worth a decent haul. Less risk of her escaping, too.”

Your stomach churned as their words sank in. You were a prize to them, nothing more than a commodity to be traded for wealth and power. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to get out, but the restraints held firm no matter how hard you pulled. Your breathing quickened as you struggled, the leather cutting into your skin, and the faint taste of blood rose in your throat.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The smooth, taunting voice cut through the air like a blade, and your gaze snapped to the woman standing at the table. Margot. Her presence was magnetic in the worst way, her movements deliberate and calculated as she leaned casually against the table, arms crossed over her chest. Her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes alight with cruel amusement as she studied you, like a predator toying with its prey.

“Well, well,” she said, pushing off the table and taking a slow step toward you. “The perfect little topsider, all tied up and helpless. Not so high and mighty now, are we?”

You glared at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response, but the corner of her mouth twitched, as if she were amused by your defiance. She began to circle you, her heels clicking against the floor with each measured step, her presence oppressive and suffocating.

“Do you know where your little hero is right now?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. “Out there, playing the savior for Zaun. That’s his priority, isn’t it? Always has been. Zaun this. Zaun that.”

It seemed like the world around you shifted, like a bad dream slowly releasing its hold on you. And there it was, the overwhelming effects of the shimmer. Oh the pounding in your head, twisting of your thoughts, and voices echoing in your ears. Then it began to fade. It felt like dragging yourself out of quicksand, every inch a battle as clarity tried to surface through the chaos. Your breath came in shallow gasps, chest heaving as the purple haze in your vision began to lift.

Dim lights suffocated the room, illuminated by the faint flicker of old industrial lights dangling above. The Chem Barons lounged around the oval table, their laughter low and cruel as they watched your struggle with detached amusement. The factory scent in the air, mingled with the acrid sting of chemicals you didn’t want to identify.

Margot leaned casually against the table, twirling the now-empty syringe between her fingers with an air of smug satisfaction. Her lips curled into a grin that sent a wave of anger through you, though your body was too weak to act on it.

“Looks like you’re finally coming down,” she remarked, her tone almost conversational. “I’ll admit, I was worried for a moment there. Would’ve been a shame if you’d overdosed before we made use of you.”

You glared at her through the haze of exhaustion, your teeth clenched as you struggled to steady your breathing. “Go to hell,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and raw.

Margot chuckled, pushing off the table to approach you. “Feisty, even now. I like that,” she said, crouching in front of you so that her face was level with yours. Her eyes gleamed with twisted delight as she reached out, gripping your chin tightly between her fingers to force you to look at her.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her voice low and almost admiring. “But spirit won’t save you. You’re nothing more than a bargaining chip now.”

You jerked your head away from her grasp, the movement sharp despite the lingering weakness in your body. Margot let out an amused laugh as she stood, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart,” she began, her tone turning more like one of a businessman’s. “We hand you over to topside. You get to enjoy whatever punishment they’ve got waiting for you, and we get our prize money. It’s a win-win, really.” The other Chem Barons murmured their approval, the greed in their voices unmistakable.

You stared at her, your chest tightening with rage. “You really think I’d agree to that?” you spat, your voice laced with venom.

Margot shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching into a mocking smirk. "Oh, I don't need your agreement, darling," she replied smoothly, her voice dripping with condescension. "I was just being polite by giving you the illusion of a choice. Hey, but maybe we can work something out. Give me something useful. A secret, a connection, something, and maybe I don't have to hand you over." Her words were a sick game, a mockery of negotiation. You weren't stupid; you knew she had no intention of letting you go freely. Your anger bubbled over as you leaned forward as much as your restraints allowed, glaring daggers at her.

"I'll see you rot before I help you," you growled, the force of your words surprising even yourself.

Margot's expression darkened, and the smirk fell from her face. For a moment, there was silence, tension crackling in the air like static. Then, without warning, she lashed out, slapping you hard across the face. The sharp sting of her hand against your cheek was enough to make your head whip to the side.

"Stupid girl," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You think you have power here? You think you get to decide anything?" She took a step back, reaching into her pocket and pulling out another syringe.

Your stomach dropped as you saw the familiar glow of shimmer inside it, brighter and more concentrated than before.

"No-no, don't," you stammered, panic setting in as she approached.

"Don't what?" she mocked, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. "You already made your choice. Let's see if we can loosen that sharp tongue of yours."

Before you could protest further, she plunged the needle into your neck. Pain shot through your body as the shimmer flooded your veins, an uncontrollable heat spreading through your limbs. You let out a scream, your vision blurring as the drug took hold. The world tilted on its axis, the edges of reality fraying as hallucinations crept in. The Chem Barons' laughter grew distorted, their faces warping into monstrous visages. The room seemed to shrink and expand simultaneously, and the voices in your head (the ones you thought had faded) came roaring back with a vengeance.

You clawed at the arms of the chair, your nails digging into the metal as you tried to anchor yourself. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that it felt like it might burst, and your breathing became erratic.

Margot's voice cut through the chaos, taunting and cruel. "Look at you, squirming like a cornered animal. It's almost poetic."

Your restraints clicked open suddenly, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before hitting the ground. Margot stood over you, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at your trembling form.

"We're taking you topside," she announced, her tone laced with finality.

"Dead or alive, you're worth the same. But I think I prefer you like this, completely broken and barely holding on. It'll make the handoff more entertaining."

Two of her lackeys stepped forward, gripping you under your arms and hauling you to your feet. Your legs wobbled beneath you, the shimmer wreaking havoc on your motor control. The world spun violently as they began dragging you toward the door, your head lolling as you tried and failed to stay upright. Harsh sunlight hit your face like someone slapped you as they pulled you outside. The brightness was disorienting, and you squinted against it, your head throbbing. Air, heavy with the industrial tang of Zaun, and the sounds of machinery mixed with voices. Enforcers.

Ahead, you could see the bridge leading topside, a line of Enforcers waiting at the end with rifles slung over their shoulders. The sight sent a fresh wave of panic through you, and you thrashed weakly in the Chem Barons' grip.

"Let me go," you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

Margot walked alongside you, her expression one of smug satisfaction. "Save your strength," she advised mockingly. "You'll need it to grovel when you're thrown at the feet of the Council."

The closer you got to the bridge, the harder your heart pounded. You were barely holding on, your mind teetering on the edge of madness as the shimmer coursed through you. The voices in your head screamed louder, with the fear and anger that threatened to drown you.

Margot leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered "Don't worry, sweetheart. This is just the beginning." You gritted your teeth, determination flickering within you despite the haze.

The journey to Piltover’s inner walls was a blur of pain and exhaustion. Your legs refused to hold you, the shimmer coursing through your veins wreaking havoc on your body. Every step felt like a battle, your limbs trembling as Margot’s goons dragged you forward. The bright sunlight burned your eyes, and the Piltover’s bustling streets added to your disorientation. All of the voices of the enforcers were sharp as they spoke to Margot, thanking her and her men.

“Good work,” one of the officers said, his tone almost bored. “Your payment will be processed soon. We’ll take it from here.”

Margot smirked, her victory evident in her smug posture. She leaned close to you one last time, her voice a low whisper meant only for your ears.

“Enjoy the next chapter, darling,” she sneered. “If you survive, maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond. Instead, you slumped further as the Enforcers took hold of you, their grip cold. You tried to plant your feet, to resist, but your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled, and they dragged you forward without hesitation.

Piltovers inner walls loomed ahead, their pristine white stone a stark contrast to the grime and chaos of Zaun. Everything was suffocating, the streets lined with polished brass and bustling citizens who barely glanced your way. The shimmer made it hard to focus, your vision swimming with colors and shadows that didn’t belong.

By the time you reached the Council building, you were on the verge of collapse. The Enforcers hauled you through the ornate doors, their boots echoing loudly against the marble floors. Of course the air would be cold and sterile, filled with the murmur of voices and hurried footsteps as people passed by.

They led you into the grand council chamber, its circular design intimidating and imperial. The room was bathed in warm light from the massive stained-glass windows, depicting Piltover’s history in vibrant detail. At the center was the imposing council table, its surface polished to a mirror shine, where Ambessa Medarda sat like a queen upon her throne.

Beside her were your parents. Your father’s expression was like stone, his cold eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn’t even glance at you as the Enforcers placed you in one of the chairs facing the council. Your mother, on the other hand, was a picture of worry, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her eyes were wide as they took you in, darting over your disheveled appearance and the faint glow of shimmer in your irises. The moment the Enforcers stepped back, your mother rushed to your side. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it left you breathless.

“My sweet child,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “I was so worried about you.”

You barely had the strength to return the embrace, but her warmth was a calming sensation to your anxious nerves. She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, her hands cupping your face as she searched your eyes.

“What have they done to you?” she whispered, her voice breaking. Her gaze landed on the faint pink glow in your irises, and you saw her expression shift from relief to horror. “Shimmer…” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Her hands faltered for a moment before she composed herself, but the fear lingered in her eyes. She sat down next to you, her presence a small comfort despite the chaos raging within you. Your father, meanwhile, remained motionless, his gaze fixed ahead as if you weren’t even there. His indifference cut deeper than you expected, and your heart sank. He doesn’t care. He never has.

Ambessa’s voice rang out, commanding and unyielding, but the pounding in your head made it impossible to focus on her words. Your mother nudged you gently, her worried expression urging you to pay attention.

“Listen,” she whispered softly, but her voice carried an undertone of dread.

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on Ambessa. Her sharp eyes bore into you as she spoke, her words cutting through the haze.

“You have become a liability,” she declared, her voice devoid of sympathy. “A danger to the order and stability of Piltover. It is the council’s decision that you be sent to Stillwater Hold immediately.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Stillwater Hold, the maximum security, isolation, a prison for those too dangerous to be allowed freedom.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “No, you can’t—”

“This is not up for debate,” Ambessa interrupted coldly, rising to her feet. Her imposing figure seemed to tower over you, her presence suffocating. “You will be placed in isolation, cut off from all outside contact. Perhaps there, you will have time to reflect on your mistakes.”

Your mother’s hand gripped yours tightly, her knuckles white. She looked as if she wanted to speak, to protest, but no words came. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and you could see the conflict in her eyes.

Your father, however, barely reacted. He simply stood, his face betraying a flicker of surprise, but nothing more.

As Ambessa turned to leave, the Enforcers moved forward to restrain you once again. Panic clawed at your chest, your mind racing with the implications of her decree. You would be alone, cut off from everything and everyone you cared about. The thought of never seeing Ekko again made your heart ache, but then Margot’s words crept back into your mind.

He doesn’t care about you. He only cares about Zaun. But did he?

You shook your head, trying to dispel the doubt, but it lingered like a shadow. The Enforcers’ hands were rough as they pulled you to your feet, and your mother’s grip slipped away.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you looked at her. “Don’t let them do this.”

The hallway outside the council chambers was dimly lit, while there was golden glow coming from the chamber’s interior. The walls were lined with brass and marble, their polished surfaces catching faint reflections of the soldiers escorting you. Their grip was unyielding as they dragged you forward, your legs barely able to cooperate. Your body felt heavy, a dull ache spreading through your muscles, but the shimmer in your veins still faintly there. Almost like a silent threat waiting to be unleashed. Unpredictable.

Your mother walked alongside you, her hand clinging tightly to yours as if her touch alone could anchor you in this moment. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, her voice choked by the emotions roiling within her.

“You can’t do this to them,” she pleaded to the soldiers, her words soft but desperate. “They’re not a danger—they’re my daughter.”

The soldiers didn’t respond, their expressions stoic. They marched forward with mechanical precision, their polished armor clinking faintly with each step. You glanced over your shoulder at your mother, her hand tightening around yours as if she sensed the impending separation.

“Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Let me—”

Her words were cut off as the soldiers abruptly stopped, their grip on you tightening. One of them turned to her, his expression a mix of irritation and indifference.

“Ma’am, please step back,” he ordered firmly.

“No,” your mother said, her voice rising in defiance. “I won’t let you take my daughter!”

The soldier’s hand moved to pry hers away from yours, but she held on tighter, her knuckles white. Her desperation was palpable, each of her movements fueled by love and fear.

“Mother,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s okay—”

However, it wasn’t okay and it never would be. With being over dramatic that they would send someone to prison just for being a kind person. What kind of society was piltover, and how you could’ve been so blind.

The soldier’s patience snapped, and he moved to forcibly remove your mother’s hand from yours. The moment he yanked at her wrist, something inside you cracked. All the shimmer that had been bubbling beneath the surface roared to life, seeping in your veins. Heat spread through your body, the sensation almost euphoric.

Before you could think, your body moved on instinct. With a feral growl, you jerked free from the soldiers’ grasp. Your fists flew before you realized what you were doing, one striking the soldier nearest to you with a sickening thud. He staggered back, his helmet clattering to the ground, and you turned on the second soldier with the same ferocity. The shimmer gave you strength you didn’t recognize, each movement fluid and devastating. Your fist collided with the second soldier’s chest plate, sending him stumbling backward into the marble wall with a dull clang. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the shimmer’s intoxicating power coursing through you. The sensation was overwhelming, your limbs felt lighter, faster, and yet there was a wildness to it all, a lack of control that frightened you even as it exhilarated you.

Turning back, you stumbled into your mother’s arms, clutching her tightly as though holding her could tether you to the world and keep the chaos at bay. Her arms wrapped around you immediately, her warmth and familiar scent grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears burned at your eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again.”

“You will,” she said firmly, her hands gripping your face to make you look at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but her gaze was resolute. “I’ll find a way. I swear to you.”

Her promise felt like a fragile thread in the storm raging inside you. You wanted to believe her, but every step you’d taken since leaving Zaun seemed to lead only to destruction and despair. The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and you turned to see your father striding toward the chaos, his expression carved in stone. His cold eyes scanned the scene: the soldiers disarmed and you clinging to your mother. His lips twisted into a sneer of disgust.

“Enough of this display,” he snapped, his voice laced with venom. “You’re embarrassing yourself, woman.”

Your mother flinched at his tone, her grip on you tightening as though she could shield you from his words. “They’re our daughter!” she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “How can you stand there and act like they mean nothing to you?”

“They don’t,” your father said flatly, his gaze flicking to you as if you were a mere inconvenience. “They’ve chosen to align themselves with filth, with criminals. They’ve disgraced this family, and I will not tolerate it.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and your grip on your mother faltered. The shimmer inside you pulsed violently, responding to your rising anger. You could feel it clawing at the edges of your mind, urging you to lash out, to fight back.

“I never chose this,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. “You abandoned me long before I ever set foot in Zaun.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, pulling your mother away from you with a firm hand. She resisted, but his grip was unyielding, dragging her back as she cried out in protest.

“Let her go!” you shouted, lunging toward them, but the shimmer’s effects were waning, leaving your body weak and unsteady.

The soldiers had recovered by now, and they seized you once more, their grips like iron. You struggled, but the strength you’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced by an aching exhaustion.

“Take them away,” your father ordered coldly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Father, please—”

“You are no child of mine,” he said, cutting you off.

His words echoed in your ears as the soldiers dragged you away, your mother’s cries fading into the distance. Your heart felt like it was shattering in your chest, each beat a reminder of how alone you were. All of the halls blurred around you as you were pulled toward your fate. The shimmer’s residual effects made the world feel surreal, the edges of your vision tinged with purple. Your thoughts spiraled, looping back to the same unbearable truth: no one was coming to save you.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a flicker of defiance remained. The shimmer may have weakened, but it had left something behind. A burning determination not to let them break you. Never.

As you were led toward the transport that would take you to Stillwater, you clenched your fists, vowing to fight for every chance to escape, for every moment to prove them wrong. Whatever happened next, you would not give up. Not yet.

There were occasional crackle of old, sparking wires however the hideout was quiet. It should’ve been comforting, this kind of silence, which was a rare occurrence. But it wasn’t. It never would be, not with you missing.

Ekko sat hunched over his desk in the corner of the workshop, his head resting in his hands. The glow of the green light hanging above cast harsh shadows across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion etched into his features. He hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t have the luxury of rest, not while you were out there somewhere, alone. Or worse. Dead.

The thought of what could be happening to you tightened his chest. It wasn’t like you to not come back without a word, and the reality of your disappearance had hit him like a freight train. He could still see you in his mind, sitting across the room from him with that subtle smirk you always wore when teasing him. You were always a little guarded, but he could read the warmth in your eyes when you let your guard down around him. That warmth haunted him now.

He slammed a fist down on the table, rattling a collection of discarded tools and blueprints. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

The door to the hideout creaked open, and Scar stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the floor. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, he knew better than to try when Ekko was like this.

“Any word?” he asked without looking up, his voice clipped.

Scar hesitated. “Not good news.”

Ekko turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Spit it out.”

Scar exhaled, crossing his arms. “Word on the street is there’s a bounty on their head. Big money, too. Dead or alive.”

For a moment, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. He shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You heard me,” Scar said, his tone softer now. “Ambessa is the one behind it. And who else would want that good amount of money other that the chem-barons. So if I had to bet…”

“Margot,” Ekko growled, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger surged through him.

“Yeah,” Scar said. “She’s got her hands in everything these days. If anyone’s got the resources to snatch someone up, it’s her.”

Ekko couldn’t think. He grabbed the edge of the desk and flipped it in one violent motion, sending tools, papers, and scraps of metal crashing to the floor. Scar didn’t flinch. He’d seen him lose his temper before, though never like this.

“They took my friend!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “They were safe, or at least I thought they were. I should’ve—” He stopped himself, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“You couldn’t have known,” Scar said cautiously.

“I should’ve kissed them when I had the chance,” Ekko muttered bitterly, his voice barely audible.

Scar raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his admission. “Wait, you mean—”

“Don’t,” Ekko interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need his commentary, not now.

Scar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, boss, I get it. You care about them. We all do. And tearing yourself apart isn’t gonna bring them back. You need to focus.”

“I am focused,” Ekko snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’ve been doing everything I can to find them. I’ve been working nonstop! But every second that goes by, they could be—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Scar stepped closer, his voice softening. “We’ll find them, Ekko.”

Ekko turned away from his second-in-command, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his responsibilities as a leader, as someone who cared about you more than he was willing to admit, was crushing him. He thought back to all the moments he could’ve told you how he felt. How he should’ve told you. Now, he might never get the chance.

“Do we have any leads?” he asked after a long silence, his voice low.

“Nothing solid,” Scar admitted. “But I’ll keep digging. And so will the others.”

Ekko nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. If Margot had you, then time was running out. He’d seen what the chem-barons were capable of, how they toyed with their captives before discarding them like garbage. The thought of you in their clutches made his stomach churn. He clenched his fists again, his knuckles white.

As Scar left to rally the others, Ekko sat back down amidst the chaos he’d created, staring at the mess of blueprints and tools scattered across the floor. He picked up a small gadget you’d been working on before you disappeared. It was a half-finished invention with wires sticking out at odd angles.

He turned it over in his hands, a lump forming in his throat. You were always so brilliant, so determined to make a difference in this broken city. How could he have let this happen to you?

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you back.” The promise felt hollow in the silence of the room, but it was all he had.

Smoky air filled around the abandoned factory that thick with decay, the scent of rust and mildew clinging to the walls like an oppressive fog. Inside, the dim light of a single hanging bulb swung precariously, casting jagged shadows across the cavernous space. Crates were scattered haphazardly, some half-opened to reveal pilfered goods and shimmer vials, their contents glowing faintly. Laughter and the clink of glasses echoed faintly, a mocking contrast to the somber silence of the building’s other corners.

Ekko crouched in the shadows near a crumbling brick wall, his mask concealing his expression but failing to hide the fury radiating from him. His staff was collapsed and strapped to his back, ready to be wielded at a moment’s notice. He had been tracking Margot’s operations for days, every lead bringing him closer to you. This factory, this desolate place reeking of despair, was supposed to be your last known location.

Inside, three men sat around a makeshift table fashioned from a wooden pallet and a few stacked crates. They were laughing uproariously, playing cards, and passing a bottle of cheap wine between them. Their demeanor was casual, careless. They had no reason to suspect that death itself was crouched a few feet away, waiting.

Ekko’s fingers flexed over the edge of the wall, the faint creak of leather gloves breaking the ambient noise. The goons’ laughter paused, one of them squinting into the shadows. “You hear that?” he muttered, his hand hovering near his knife.

Ekko stepped into the light, his mask catching the faint glow of the overhead bulb. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his presence was anything but. The sight of him was enough to make the men freeze, their drunken haze evaporating in an instant.

“Don’t move,” Ekko said, his voice low and cold, like the steel of a blade. He tilted his head slightly, a predatory gesture that sent shivers down their spines. “I’ve got questions, and you’re going to answer them. If you try to run, you won’t get far.”

One of the men, the burliest of the three, leaned back in his chair with a forced laugh, trying to mask his unease. “Questions, huh? You don’t look like an enforcer, kid. What do you want from us?”

Ekko’s fingers twitched, but he kept his composure. “Where is she?”

“Who?” another man asked, feigning ignorance as he leaned forward, his greasy smile exposing yellowed teeth. “We’ve got a lot of ‘shes’ around here. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Ekko took a slow step forward, the sound of his boots deliberate and sharp against the concrete floor. “Don’t play dumb. The girl you took. The one Margot had dragged out of Zaun. Where is she?”

The men exchanged glances, their bravado faltering under the weight of Ekko’s presence. But it wasn’t fear that made them hesitate, it was cruelty. Disgusting.

“Oh,” the burly man said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You mean your little girlfriend. Didn’t think a leader like you would be so sentimental. What’s it like, knowing Margot’s had her claws in her?”

Ekko’s grip on his staff tightened, though he didn’t extend it. Not yet. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, his voice like gravel. “… She’s under my protection, which means you’ve made a very big mistake.”

The third man, younger than the others and visibly more nervous, chuckled weakly. “Margot did more than protect her. Injected her full of shimmer. Changed her forever.” He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. “You should’ve heard her screaming. Begging for it to stop.”

Ekko’s vision got blurred. He didn’t remember crossing the room, but suddenly his hand was around the throat of the younger man, slamming him against the wall with a force that made the other two jump to their feet.

“I said sit down!” Ekko roared, his voice echoing through the factory like a thunderclap. The other two hesitated, their bravado crumbling as they realized just how dangerous this masked vigilante was. Slowly, they lowered themselves back into their seats, though their hands hovered near their weapons.

Ekko released the younger man, letting him crumple to the ground in a coughing heap. He turned his attention to the burly one, his body radiating barely contained rage.

“You think this is funny?” Ekko asked, his voice low and menacing. “You think I won’t rip this place apart to find her?”

“Relax, kid,” the burly man said, though his voice wavered. “You’re not a killer. Everyone knows that.”

Ekko smirked beneath his mask, though there was no humor in it. “You’re right. I’m not. But I don’t need to kill you to make you wish you were dead.”

With a flick of his wrist, he extended his staff and brought it down on the man’s hand with bone-shattering force. The sickening crunch was followed by a howl of pain, and the man clutched his mangled hand to his chest, tears streaming down his face.

“Now,” Ekko said, his voice icy. “Where. Is. She?”

The younger man scrambled to his knees, babbling incoherently. “She’s—she’s gone! Taken to Piltover! The boss wanted to claim the prize money! Please, man, that’s all I know!”

Ekko turned to him, his eyes burning with fury. “Where in Piltover?”

“I don’t know!” the man cried, his hands raised in surrender. “I swear, I don’t know! They took her meet ambessa at the council meeting! That’s all we heard before they left!”

Ekko studied him for a long moment, then stepped back, his staff retracting with a metallic click. “If I find out you’re lying,” he said coldly, “I’ll be back. And you won’t like what happens next.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. The factory’s silence returned, but Ekko’s mind was anything but quiet.

You were in Piltover. That much he knew. But the thought of what they might be doing to you, how far they’d gone already, made his blood boil. He blamed himself for letting this happen, for not being there to stop it.

“I’ll find you,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out of the factory. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you home.”

Shivering. The cold was the first thing you noticed. It crept into your bones and settled like a permanent ache, no matter how tightly you wrapped the thin blanket around yourself. The steel walls of your cell reflected nothing but your own hollow gaze, distorted in the warped metal like a ghost haunting itself. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzed incessantly, a monotonous drone that filled the silence.

Days bled into one another. Or were they weeks? Months? You couldn’t tell anymore. Food was delivered regularly, the plates piling up untouched on the small tray by the door. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, but the idea of eating felt impossible. It reminded you of before, of when Ekko had kissed you, then left you in an agonizing limbo of uncertainty.

Back then, you had at least been free. You could wander through Zaun, trying to escape the heartache in the neon haze of the Undercity. Now, there was no escape. No Ekko. No freedom. Just you and the cold steel cage that held you prisoner.

You sat on the edge of the cot, knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The shimmer coursing through your veins was a cruel reminder of what had been done to you. It pulsed like molten fire, burning and twisting your thoughts. Your body ached, muscles spasming unpredictably, leaving you weak and trembling.

The voices were the worst. They came in waves, some screaming accusations, others whispering taunts.

“He’s forgotten you.”

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

“This is what you deserve.”

“Shut up!” you yelled, pressing your palms to your ears. But they didn’t stop. Instead, they multiplied.

“You’ll never see him again.”

“He’s better off without you.”

“You’re better off dead.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, hot against the cold air, as you rocked back and forth. You hated yourself for crying, for being weak, for breaking under their weight. But there was no one here to tell you otherwise. No one to hold you and say it would be okay.

You slammed the back of your head against the wall behind you, the dull thud grounding you for only a moment before the spiral began again. The sobs came harder now, wracking your body as you curled into yourself.

“Leave me alone,” you begged the voices, but they only laughed in response. And then, faintly, you heard something else.

“Hey!” The voice echoed down the corridor outside your cell, distant but distinct. Your head snapped up, your breath hitching as you strained to listen.

“Who’s there?” you croaked, your throat dry and raw from disuse.

The faint sound of footsteps grew louder, steady and purposeful. You squinted into the dim hallway, trying to make out the figure approaching the barred door.

“Leave me alone!” you cried again, shaking your head, convinced it was another hallucination. The shimmer had twisted your mind before; why would now be any different?

But the figure didn’t fade. Instead, it became clearer. Taller. Familiar. The scent of machine oil and faint traces of herbs reached you before the figure did, stirring something deep in your chest. Your heart raced as the figure came closer, the flickering light catching on the unmistakable outline of his goggles, his scarf, the curve of his jaw.

“Ekko?” you whispered, gripping the railing of your cot as you pulled yourself to your feet.

The figure stopped just beyond the bars, his hands curling around them as he leaned forward. “It’s me,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

“No,” you said, shaking your head violently. “You’re not real. You’re just—just another trick!”

“I’m real,” he said, his voice firmer now. “It’s me. See! Look at me.”

You stumbled forward, your legs weak and unsteady, until you reached the door. Your hands gripped the cold metal bars, your eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. But there was none.

“Ekko,” you breathed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His hand covered yours, warm and grounding. “Hi,” he whispered, his voice thick with relief.

You choked on a sob, your knees buckling as you slid down to the floor. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” he said, his other hand slipping through the bars to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “In the flesh.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your skin a stark contrast to the cold that had consumed you for so long. “I thought…” You hiccupped, struggling to form the words. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I thought the same,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”

Your fingers tightened around his, desperate to hold onto him, to convince yourself that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of your mind. “They said… they said you forgot me.”

“Never,” he said fiercely, his hand gripping yours with equal intensity. “Not even for a split second.”

You buried your face against the bars, your shoulders shaking as the tears came harder. “I’m terrified, Ekko,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You’re real,” he said, his forehead resting against yours through the bars. “I’m real. And I’m getting you out of here.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, anchoring you to the moment. For the first time in weeks, the voices fell silent. All you could hear was the steady beat of his heart and the unspoken vow in his gaze.

The air in Stillwater Hold was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of damp metal and the faint tang of saltwater. The dim, flickering lights overhead buzzed like angry insects, casting ghostly shadows on the cold steel walls. Ekko stood outside your cell, gripping the large brass key in his hand, his knuckles white with tension. His mask obscured most of his face, but his eyes burned with fierce determination.

He glanced at you through the bars, his heart breaking at the sight of your frail form. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, your skin pale and your frame too thin. The shimmer’s effects were evident in the faint tremors in your hands and the shadows beneath your eyes, but there was still a spark in your gaze, a fragile but unyielding fire.

He took a steadying breath and inserted the key into the lock, his movements quick but not careless. The lock groaned in protest, a sharp metallic screech echoing in the corridor.

“How did you get that?” you asked, your voice hoarse but laced with curiosity.

Ekko’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the weight of the moment kept it from fully forming. “Long story,” he said, his tone light but tinged with weariness. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him. You could tell from the shadows in his eyes that whatever he’d done to get here hadn’t been easy.

He jiggled the key, muttering a low curse under his breath. “Of course, it has to be the trickiest damn lock in the whole place,” he murmured. You almost laughed at his frustration, the sound foreign and strange in this place of despair.

Finally, with a heavy clunk, the lock gave way, and the cell door creaked open. Before Ekko could fully process his success, you surged forward, throwing yourself into his arms with all the strength you could muster. The momentum knocked him off balance, and the two of you tumbled to the cold floor, his back hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, the breath knocked out of him for a moment. But then his arms tightened around you instinctively, cradling you against his chest as though you might disappear if he let go.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your thin arms clinging to him desperately. “Don’t let me go,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Of course not,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head. He felt how much lighter you were, how your ribs pressed against him like fragile bird bones. It was like holding a shadow of the person he remembered, and it made his chest ache with guilt and sorrow.

Your tears soaked into his scarf as you cried harder, your sobs wracking your frail body. “I thought—I thought I’d never see you again,” you stammered, your words broken by hiccups. “I thought I was going to die here.”

Ekko tightened his hold on you, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Not a chance,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to stay strong. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your tear-streaked face inches from his. “I missed you so much,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only thing that kept me going.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The raw emotion in your voice cut through him like a knife, and he cursed himself for not finding you sooner. “Well no need to worry now,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “Im never going to leave your side”

Your arms tightened around him as if you were afraid he might vanish. “I’m never letting you go again,” you vowed, your voice trembling but resolute.

“I wouldn’t let you if you tried,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you close.

As the flood of emotions began to ebb, a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of Ekko’s mouth. “By the way,” he said, his tone lightening just enough to catch your attention, “your mom’s got some stories.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “My mom?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Xerah Arvino. Fancy name, by the way. She’s got opinions, especially about me.”

You let out a weak laugh, the sound surprising both of you. “What did she say?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice teasing. “She might’ve mentioned how you feel about me. Called you out, really.”

Your cheeks burned, the warmth of embarrassment cutting through the cold that had settled in your body for so long. “She didn’t,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“Oh, she did,” he said, his smirk widening. “Guess she wanted to make sure I wasn’t oblivious.”

Despite your exhaustion, you managed a small laugh. “She’s always been… direct.”

“I like her,” Ekko admitted, his tone softening. “But you, Firefly…” He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears. “I knew. I’ve always known.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket. “You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How could I not?” he replied, his voice filled with equal parts affection and disbelief. “You’re my light in the dark. Always have been.”

The warmth of his gaze, the steadiness of his presence, filled the void inside you that had felt so bottomless. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed you might actually be okay. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as his hand stroked your back in soothing circles.

The inside of the air duct was surprisingly spacious, though its tight metallic walls didn’t leave much room for comfort. The hum of machinery vibrated through the structure, and the faint scent of oil and rust lingered in the air. Ekko’s hoverboard hummed softly beneath you, its energy signature blending seamlessly with the subdued mechanical symphony of Stillwater Hold.

“Hold on tight,” Ekko whispered, his voice low and cautious as he steadied the hoverboard under both your weight and his. His body was warm against yours, shielding you from the cold draft in the duct. You obeyed, gripping his waist tightly, your heart racing. Not only just from the escape but from the proximity, his warmth body against your own.

The hoverboard glided smoothly, its propulsion barely making a sound as Ekko maneuvered it through twists and turns. He had memorized the map of this place with a precision that made you marvel at his resourcefulness. You couldn’t help but wonder how many sleepless nights he’d spent planning this.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice steady but his grip on the hoverboard controls firm. His tone, though calm, carried the tension of someone who knew there was no room for error.

After what felt like an eternity, the dim blue light of the exit vent came into view. Ekko slowed the board and leaned forward, pressing a hand against the vent cover. It creaked slightly, and for a moment, you both froze, your breaths held. But when no alarms blared, he pushed harder, and the vent cover fell away, clattering onto the concrete outside.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, your heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through your veins. “Let’s go.”

With a quick adjustment, Ekko angled the hoverboard downward, the two of you sliding out of the duct and into the open air. The cold night breeze hit your face like a splash of water, a stark contrast to the stuffy air of the ducts. The stars twinkled above, unbothered by the chaos below, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the promise of freedom.

It took longer than expected to navigate back to your house. The ride was quiet, each of you lost in your thoughts, the weight of the escape pressing heavily on your shoulders. By the time you arrived, the familiar silhouette of the Arvino estate loomed before you, its elegant structure bathed in pale moonlight.

As you approached, panic flashed through your chest. “Ekko,” you said, your voice urgent. “What if someone sees us?”

“They won’t,” he assured you, his tone confident. “Trust me.”

He steered the hoverboard toward a thick cluster of vines that climbed the side of the house near your bedroom window. Landing softly on the grass, he helped you off the board and gestured toward the vines. “Think you can climb?”

You nodded, though your body was weak from weeks of confinement. His hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you just in case you were to fall.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

With his help, you made your way up the vines, the rough texture scratching at your hands. When you finally reached the windowsill, you pushed it open and climbed inside, tumbling onto the familiar softness of your room. Ekko followed quickly, landing with a quiet grace that made you roll your eyes at his ease.

The moment your feet hit the carpet, a deep sigh of relief escaped your lips. You turned and launched yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the comfort of your pillow. The softness cradled you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Kicking your feet excitedly, you let out a laugh that was equal parts relief and joy. “I can’t believe we made it,” you said, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko leaned against the wall, watching you with a soft smile. His arms were crossed, his frame relaxed for the first time all night. “You look happy,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

You turned over, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling just above the floor. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you replied, your grin infectious. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Ekko pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward you, his boots barely making a sound on the plush carpet. His smile remained, but there was something else in his eyes now. Love maybe?

Before you could process his movement, he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and suddenly, he was so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His face was mere inches from yours, his breath brushing against your skin.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as his eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips. It was as if he was asking for permission without saying a word. “Hmm…” you whispered to yourself thinking about something, your voice barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, as though he was fighting to keep his composure.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “Yeah. I just…”

“Just what?” he murmured, his lips quirking up in a small, teasing smile.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

But you couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the way his presence seemed to fill the room. Slowly, as though giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned closer. The world seemed to fade into the background: the room, the night, the fear and chaos of your escape, until there was only him. Standing infront of you, leaning so close that you could feel him breathe.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips parted, and you nodded, the motion almost imperceptible. And then his lips were on yours, gentle at first. But the moment your hand slid up to curl into his jacket, he deepened the kiss, his other hand moving to cup the side of your face. The weight of the world seemed to lift in that moment, replaced by a heat that consumed you, chased away the cold and the fear that had gripped you for so long.

Ekko’s breath was warm against your lips, and when he closed the gap between you, it felt like the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was soft at first, an unspoken confession of everything the two of you had held back for the last few months. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him to believe this was real. His lips moved with a desire that sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers gripping your hips as though he never wanted to let go. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his jawline, tracing the sharp angles of his face, grounding yourself in the reality of his handsome face.

"You're lips are so soft," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and thick with emotion.

"I could stay that about yours," you replied breathlessly letting out a small chuckle. Your forehead pressing against his as you both caught your breath.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes searching yours. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of this... of you," he admitted, his voice soft but passionate, as though he needed you to understand the depth of his feelings. Of how much he had felt for you ever since the two of you met.

You smiled, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. "Took you long enough to realize," you teased, though your tone was gentle, almost reverent.

His hands slid up your back, pressing you closer, and you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest. The air between you grew heavier, more charged, as the kiss became desperate. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low sound from him that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The need that had been simmering between you for so long now threatened to boil over, every touch and every breath. Adding to the fire between you further.

You shifted slightly, pressing yourself closer to him, and the sensation made your cheeks flush. His grip on your waist tightened in response, his other hand cupping the back of your neck as he angled your face to deepen the kiss. His movements were urgent but deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment, every sound you made, every way your body fit against his.

Ekko's lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down to your neck, his warm breath sending goosebumps over your skin. His fingers grazed the edge of your shirt, his touch featherlight but electrifying. "I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with restrained emotion. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as your hands slid down his back.

Ekko chuckled, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips, this one slower and filled with something deeper. His hands never stopped moving, one tracing lazy circles on your back, the other brushing strands of hair from your face. This moment felt infinite, like the two of you had carved out a space that existed only for the two of you. It wasn't until the door suddenly swung open, flooding the room with light. Startled, you froze, your lips still brushing Ekko's, as you both turned to see Anya standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh-oh my! I'm so sorry!" she stammered, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to- I was just—"

Before either of you could respond, she quickly turned around, flicking the light off as she shut the door behind her with a hurried, "I'll come back later!"

The room went back into the darkness, the only light coming from the moon outside. You and Ekko stared at the closed door for a second, stunned into silence. Then Ekko broke into a quiet laugh. "Well, that's one way to ruin the mood," he said, looking back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You buried your face in his shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. "I am never going to hear the end of this from her," you muttered, your voice muffled.

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you as he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist. "Hey, at least she knows you're in good hands," he joked, leaning back slightly to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "This isn't funny, Ekko!" you protested, though your tone was far too soft to be convincing.

"Come on," he said, brushing his nose against yours. "It's a little funny."

You couldn't help but laugh then, the tension breaking as you leaned against him, your forehead resting on his. Closing your eyes, the only sound was that of the wind outside.

The early morning light filtered softly through the cracks in the curtains, painting the room in muted hues of gold and pink. The air was still, and there was peace. Ekko’s arm draped securely around your waist as your head nestled against his chest. His warmth was a shield against the cold realities waiting just outside, and in his unconscious state, he held you as if you might disappear. The two of you had found sanctuary, one where, just for a few hours, the chaos of the world couldn’t touch you. The chaos that was caused by just wanting to help others.

That illusion shattered when the door creaked open, followed by the hurried, uneven shuffle of footsteps. The sound pulled Ekko from his slumber instantly. His eyes snapped open, his instincts sharper than ever, and he propped himself up on one elbow just as Anya stumbled into the room. Her hand clutched her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and staining her dress in it. The sight of her broke through the last remnants of your sleep, and you sat up, a chill running down your spine.

“They… they took her,” Anya gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe as she shut it behind her. Her voice was strained, trembling from pain and urgency. “Ambessa. She took your mother. They know… they know what she did.”

“Anya.” Ekko was on his feet in seconds, rushing to her side and steadying her before she could collapse. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the panic swirling just beneath the surface. “What the hell happened? You’re hurt—sit down. Let me—”

“No!” Anya interrupted, her voice sharp despite the agony etched across her face. “There’s no time. They’ll come here next. You need to leave. Now.”

You stared at her, frozen in place. Her words echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like they were coming from underwater. Your chest felt tight, your vision narrowing as her message sank in. Your mother. Taken. By Ambessa. It was too much, all of it crashing down like a wave threatening to drown you. You wanted to scream, cry, do something, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. You felt yourself disassociating, retreating into the safety of numbness that you once knew because facing this reality head on was unbearable. As soon as you try to catch a break, there’s always something ruining it. It was almost as if the universe didn’t want to you be happy.

Ekko’s voice broke through the haze. “We can’t just leave you like this!” he said, his frustration mounting as Anya winced and doubled over. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and pressed it against her wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “Anya, stay with me. Where is she? Where did they take her?”

“I don't know,” Anya managed, her voice weakening as her knees buckled. “Ambessa… she’s going to lock her away somewhere. She knows what your mother did, how she helped you.” Her gaze shifted to you, her eyes glassy but full of determination. “You need to get out of here before they get here.”

You barely registered the words. The room around you seemed to spin, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Ekko glanced over his shoulder, concern etched across his face as he noticed your vacant expression. “Firefly,” he called softly, but there was no use. Your mind was blocking him completely.

He guided Anya to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands searching for something to stem the bleeding. “Who else was taken?” he asked, his voice steady despite the urgency in his movements.

“Just her,” Anya whispered, wincing as Ekko pressed a cloth against her wound. “I tried to stop them. I swear I did.” She glanced at you then, her eyes filled with an fear that mirrored your own. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get to her.”

You heard the words, but they felt distant, like echoes in a tunnel. Your body moved on autopilot, standing and grabbing a bag, stuffing it with whatever essentials were nearby. Ekko was saying something to you, his voice low and firm, but the words seemed blurred together. It wasn’t until he placed his hands on your shoulders and forced you to meet his eyes that you realized he was trying to snap you out of it.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softening as he searched your face. “We’re getting out of here. You with me?”

You nodded mechanically, though your gaze drifted past him, your focus slipping again. Ekko hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you, but there was no time to dig deeper. He turned back to Anya, his jaw tightening. “We’ll get her back,” he promised, though the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Anya sat there bleeding out with her hand holding her stomach, sadly there was too much blood. This was it for her. Your maid the one who you’ve spend you entire childhood with. Playing dolls, hide and seek, how she would help you with your homework due to yours parents being busy with handling trade routes, businesses and being councilors. You thought of her as an older sister, and now she was gone. Dead. All thanks to Ambessa and your father. That worthless excuse of a father.

After everything that just happened, how were you suppose to enjoy anything. The journey back to the hideout was a blur to you, not even focusing on how you moved above everything. The streets of Piltover passed by in a haze of colors and shapes, the city slowly waking to another day. You stood behind Ekko on his hoverboard, your arms loosely wrapped around his waist, your body moving only when the board shifted beneath you. You didn’t speak, didn’t cry, didn’t even flinch when the wind whipped against your face. The world felt muted, like you were trapped in a dream you couldn’t wake from.

Ekko glanced over his shoulder at you more than once, he had a worried look on his face. He didn’t say anything, every time he caught a glimpse of your glowing pink eyes and their unnatural light, it was a reminder of the shimmer coursing through your veins. He cursed under his breath, his mind racing for a way to bring you back to yourself, to pull you from the darkness that seemed to be consuming you. Slowly dragging you deeper into something he may never be able to help you get out of.

By the time you reached the hideout, the sun was fully up, casting harsh shadows across the abandoned buildings that surrounded the hideout. Ekko helped you down from the hoverboard, his hands lingering on your arms as he steadied you. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t acknowledge him either. He led you inside, the familiar smell filling the air, and guided you to the bed he had made for you when you first arrived.

“Stay here,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be right back.”

You sank onto the bed without a word, your gaze fixed on the floor. Ekko watched you for a moment, his heart aching at the sight of you so lifeless, so unlike the fiery, vibrant person he had fallen for. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and helplessness bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

Hours passed in silence. The hideout was quiet, the usual activity softened as the other firelights gave you and Ekko space. He stayed close by, tinkering with gadgets and pretending not to watch you out of the corner of his eye. You remained in the same spot, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes staring into the middle of the wall.

As night fell, Ekko finally broke the silence. “You need to eat,” he said, setting a plate of food on the table near the bed.

You didn’t respond, and he sighed, pulling a chair closer to sit beside you. “Listen. I get it,” he said softly. “You feel like it’s all slipping away. Like nothing you do will change what’s happening. But sitting here, shutting down—that’s not you. That’s not the fighter I know.”

His words stirred something deep within you, a faint flicker of the person you used to be. You turned to him slowly, your voice hoarse when you finally spoke. “What if I can’t do it?”

Ekko’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand in his. “Yes you can,” he said with quiet conviction. “I’m with you every step of the way. We will get your mother back.”

For the first time since the morning, tears welled in your eyes, though they didn’t fall. You nodded, the faintest hint of determination returning to your gaze. Ekko smiled, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he stood. “Please firefly. Get some rest,” he said.

When you finally lay down that night, it wasn’t on the makeshift bed Ekko had made for you. You slipped under the covers of his bed, your presence wordless but clear. He hesitated for a moment before climbing in beside you, his arms wrapping protectively around you as you curled against his chest.

You were left in awe. The mural was breathtaking. Ekko had worked on it tirelessly for hours, the paintbrush an extension of his hand as he brought Anya’s face to life on the wall of the hideout. Her eyes sparkled with the same determination you remembered, her smile gentle but firm. Behind her, he painted a swirl of warm, golden hues interspersed with fiery reds, symbolizing her unwavering courage even in the face of death. When he stepped back, covered in smudges of paint, he glanced at you with a quiet kind of sadness.

“She deserved this,” Ekko said, his voice low. “She gave everything to protect you. To protect what’s left of your family.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. Standing before the mural, you felt the weight of her sacrifice pressing against your chest. A small, fragile part of you hoped that wherever she was now, she could see this tribute, feel the gratitude and respect that burned through your veins. The only family you had left and yourself and your mother. But how long would that last. What if she were to die, who else would you consider family? You surely wouldn’t think of your father. After everything he did to you. No. It was pointless, you had no family.

Ekko turned to you after a long moment of silence, his expression hardening. “We need to talk about rules,” he said firmly.

You looked up at him confused, as your mind left the empty void it was in. “Rules?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re not to be left alone. Ever. If I can’t be there, one of the Firelights will be with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

The hardness in his tone left no room for argument, but you still tried. “Ekko, I don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his eyes boring into yours. “What happened with your mother? With Anya? That was a wake-up call. We can’t afford to take risks anymore.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. He was right, but the thought of being under constant watch gnawed at your independence. Still, the raw concern in his expression made it impossible to argue further. But knowing how you were, taking risks was going to hard.

“The second rule,” Ekko continued, “is that we plan carefully before doing anything. No impulsive moves. No rushing in without a backup plan—or two, or three. And if things go south, we need to be ready to evacuate the hideout.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of leaving the hideout behind, but you knew it was a necessary precaution. Ekko wasn’t just thinking about you, he was thinking about everyone who relied on him. All the children.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your fingers twitching at your sides. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Ekko relaxed slightly, though his expression remained serious. “Good. Now, there’s something I need to see.”

He motioned to the necklace you wore, the one he had given you weeks ago. You reached for it, pulling it from beneath your shirt, but your hands trembled too much to unclasp it. Wordlessly, Ekko stepped forward, his calloused fingers brushing against your neck as he worked the clasp.

There was a soft click of the necklace unlocking, making a shiver down your spine. Ekko lingered for a moment, his warm breath brushing against your temple before he pressed a gentle kiss there. His touch was grounding, pulling you out of the haze of fear and exhaustion that had consumed you.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and leading you back to his place. His workspace was cluttered with scraps of metal, gears, and tools, but the centerpiece was a large box that you hadn’t noticed before. Ekko placed the necklace into a small slot on the box, and with a faint sound, the lid unlocked and slid open.

Inside, nestled in protective padding, was a sleek wrist device. It was compact but intricately designed, with glowing blue accents that pulsed faintly. You stared at it, unsure of what you were looking at.

“What is it?” you asked, glancing up at Ekko.

“It’s a prototype,” he explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “Took me months to design, and I nearly got myself blown up more times than I’d like to admit, but I think it’s ready now.”

Concern flickered across your face. “Blown up? Ekko—”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Relax, t’s fine. I’ve tested it. No explosions, I promise.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting him despite your apprehension. “What does it do?”

“It’s a utility device,” he said, picking it up and fastening it around your wrist. “It’s got a tracking function, a distress signal, and a shield generator for emergencies. If anything happens, you activate this, and I’ll find you. No matter what.”

You stared down at the device, the weight of it unfamiliar but oddly comforting. “You did all this for me?”

Ekko’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’d do a lot more if it meant keeping you safe.”

He reached into the box again and pulled out a compact crossbow, its design as sleek and efficient as the wrist device. You stiffened at the sight, your stomach knotting with unease.

“I… I’ve never even held a knife, let alone a weapon,” you admitted, your voice barely whisper.

Ekko looked at you, his expression softening. He placed the crossbow gently on the desk and turned to you, taking both your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, grounding you as his dark eyes searched yours.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he said softly. “And I’m not asking you to become a fighter overnight. But things are different now. The people who did this to your mother, to Anya. They won’t stop. We need to make sure you can protect yourself if it comes down to it.”

You glanced down at the crossbow, then back at Ekko. His words made sense, but the thought of hurting someone, even in self-defense, sent a chill down your spine. Still, the determination in his eyes was infectious. He believed in you, and for him, you would try.

“Okay,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “Teach me.”

Ekko’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of relief in his expression as well. “We’ll start slow,” he promised, picking up the crossbow and turning it over in his hands. “It’s lightweight and compact, so it’s easy to handle. And it’s more for precision than brute force, which suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly despite yourself. “Suits me? You saying I’m weak?”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, just saying you’re quick. Smart. You don’t need brute force when you can outthink your opponent.”

He handed you the crossbow, guiding your fingers to the proper grip. His hands were steady as they covered yours, showing you how to aim and adjust the tension on the string. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch, the way his focus never wavered.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That’s the key. Steady your hands, focus on your target, and breathe.”

You tried to follow his instructions, your fingers trembling slightly as you raised the crossbow. It felt strange in your hands, foreign and dangerous, but Ekko’s presence steadied you.

After a few practice movements, Ekko took a step back, watching you with a mix of pride and caution. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said, crossing his arms. “And when you do, no one’s gonna mess with you.”

You set the crossbow down carefully, exhaling a shaky breath. “Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. “For everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Ekko shook his head, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “You don’t have to repay me,” he said quietly. “Just promise me you’ll stay alive. That’s all I need.”

The weight of his words hung between you, heavy with unspoken emotion. You nodded, swallowing hard. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Ekko reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled back, gesturing to the desk. “We’ll go over more later. For now, you should relax.”

You nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted you felt. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, and your body ached for sleep. Ekko led you to the corner of the hideout where your shared bed was now set up. You were tired for days, beyond exhaustion. Surprisingly now, you liked to sleep. Maybe, it was because of your lack of energy.

As you lay down, Ekko pulled a blanket over you, his movements careful and deliberate. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “Stay with me,” you whispered.

Ekko hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He kicked off his boots and slid under the blanket beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His warmth was comforting, and as you rested your head on his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Zaun. The streets were always treacherous with now people lingered around. Dangerous people. You were walking back from a short supply run as the sun began to set over the horizon, the weight of the crossbow slung across your back almost forgotten as your mind wandered. Ekko’s words about being cautious echoed in your head. Always make a plan, always think before you act. He had drilled that rule into you countless times, but none of it mattered when you turned a corner and saw the scene in front of you.

A little girl, no older than seven, was backed against a crumbling wall, her tiny frame trembling. Two men loomed over her, their gruff laughter echoing down the alley as they taunted her. She clutched a stuffed toy to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. One of the men reached for her arm, and without thinking, you moved.

Your crossbow was in your hands before you realized it, the familiar weight grounding you. The shimmer coursing through your veins dulled your hesitation, sharpening your focus. The first arrow struck the shoulder of the man closest to the girl, a sickening thud silencing his laughter as he staggered back with a howl of pain. The second arrow found the leg of the other man, sending him crumpling to the ground. You moved quickly, reloading and taking aim again, though neither man seemed eager to continue.

“Get out of here,” you growled, your voice cold and unyielding. The men scrambled to their feet, one limping heavily as they disappeared into the shadows without a backward glance.

The girl was still pressed against the wall, her tiny hands clutching her stuffed toy so tightly her knuckles were white. You knelt down in front of her, setting the crossbow aside. “Hey,” you said gently, trying to soften your tone. “It’s okay now. They’re gone.”

Her eyes darted to the weapon lying on the ground, then back to your face. “You… you hurt them that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, the weight of what you’d done sinking in. “I had to,” you said softly. “They weren’t going to leave you alone. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her grip on the toy loosening slightly. “No. Thank you, miss lady.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you tense. You turned to see Ekko, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. Of course, he would show up. He always did. You noticed the small device in his hand and realized with a sinking feeling that it was a tracker. He must have known the second you fired the crossbow.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice low but firm as he approached you. “I told you to think before you act, to make a plan.”

You looked down at the girl, then back at Ekko. “She needed help,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the guilt creeping in. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

Ekko sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he crouched beside you. His gaze softened when he looked at the girl. “Hey there,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Mila,” she said quietly.

“Well, Mila,” Ekko said, offering her a small smile. “You’re safe now. No one else is going to hurt you.”

The girl nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a little. You reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Do you have any family, Mila? Anyone we can take you to?”

Her expression darkened, and she shook her head. “My mom… she died a long time ago. And my dad…” She trailed off, her voice cracking. “He left. He didn’t want me.”

By hearing those words. Gosh it hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced at Ekko, who was watching you carefully, his brow furrowed. He knew what you were thinking. Your father had abandoned you too, leaving you to fend for yourself in a world that was cruel and unforgiving. Mila’s pain was all too familiar to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to push the memories away. “Mila,” you said softly, “would you like to come with us? We have a safe place where you can stay.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t believe you. “Really?”

“Really,” Ekko said, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’ll be safe with us. I promise.”

Mila hesitated, then nodded, clutching her toy tightly. “Okay.”

You helped her to her feet, glancing at Ekko as the three of you started back toward the hideout. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. He waited until Mila was a few steps ahead before leaning closer to you.

“We need to talk about this later,” he murmured, his tone serious but not unkind.

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’d do it again.”

Ekko sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. The gesture was enough to remind you that, no matter how angry or worried he might be, he was still on your side.

When you arrived at the hideout, the Firelights greeted Mila with curiosity and kindness, their youthful energy helping to put her at ease. You showed her to a quiet corner where she could rest, and Ekko gave one of the older Firelights instructions to keep an eye on her. Then he turned to you, his expression serious.

“Come with me,” he said, leading you to his workshop. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” you said, sitting down on the edge of the workbench. “I broke the rules. I acted without thinking. But, Ekko, she’s just a kid. I couldn’t let them hurt her.”

“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now. “I do. But you can’t just jump into situations like that without a plan. What if they’d had weapons? What if they’d hurt you?” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you again y'know.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on his arm. “You won’t,” you said firmly. “But I can’t stand by and do nothing when someone needs help and you know that. Its not who I am.”

Ekko nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours. “From now on, you need to be careful. Promise me that will you.”

“I promise,” you said, and this time, you meant it.

Ekko pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his body. He really did love hugging you. It’s not like you minded anyways, the way he hold you every time he did was endearing.

Shining bright through the sun was heavy as it seeped through the windows. Casting warm beams of light onto the small play area you and Ekko had carved out for the kids. Mila was a different child than the one you had brought in a few days ago. Her cheeks were fuller, a healthy glow replacing the pallor of malnourishment. Her hair, now free of dirt and tangles, was neatly braided in a style one of the older Firelights had taught her. She wore clean, simple clothes that fit her nicely, and the sight of her beaming smile was enough to make your heart swell. You began to love her as a little sister. One who needs to be protected from the harsh world.

You and Ekko sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by a mix of giggling children who were eager to show off their toys as they invent new games. Mila gravitated toward you, her tiny hands tugging at your sleeve as she laughed at something one of the kids said. Her joy was infectious, and for the first time, you felt a lightness in your chest that had been absent since everything began. One that only appeared when you would share special moments with ekko, or in the past when you would make memories with your mother and anya.

“Watch this!” Mila declared, holding up a toy dragon that one of the Firelights had carved from wood. She mimicked the sound of its roar, moving it around in exaggerated loops. The other kids burst into laughter, and so did you, unable to resist the sheer enthusiasm radiating from her.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Ekko teased, leaning back on his hands as he watched her antics. “Maybe we should make you our official storyteller.”

“Really?” Mila’s eyes widened, the idea filling her with excitement. “Can I, can I?”

“Of course,” you said with a soft laugh, though your voice came out a bit sharper than you intended. Mila didn’t seem to notice, but Ekko shot you a quick, concerned glance. The shimmer was still in your system, subtle but nevertheless present. It would sometimes heighten your senses, making you jittery. It was like holding a storm inside you, and no matter how hard you tried, it bled through the cracks sometimes.

Mila tugged your sleeve again, pulling your attention back to her. “What’s your favorite story? I can tell it to everyone!”

You hesitated, the warmth in your chest flickering. “Maybe later,” you said, your tone sharper than before. “Let’s keep it quiet for now.”

Mila frowned, her brow furrowing slightly. “But we’re not being loud—”

“I said keep it down!” The words snapped out of you before you could stop them, your voice harsh and biting. The shimmer roared in your veins, amplifying your frustration to a level that felt almost unbearable. Mila flinched, her toy dragon slipping from her hands to the ground. The head of the dragon broke from its body, and you watched as it rolled towards your feet. The other kids fell silent, their wide eyes darting between you and the little girl.

Mila’s bottom lip quivered, her hands trembling as she reached for the dragon. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She clutched the toy to her chest and bolted from the group, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Silence. It was suffocating. The other kids stared at you, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear. Ekko was on his feet in an instant, his eyes blazing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you aside. Away from prying eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he hissed, keeping his voice low but firm. “She’s a kid, and you just yelled at her like she did something awful.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quickly, guilt clawing at your chest. “It’s the drug—it’s messing with my head. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“You need to get it under control,” Ekko said, his tone softening but still stern. “The poor girl looks up to you. She trusts you. You can’t let the drug make you into someone she could afraid of.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you looked in the direction Mila had run. “I’ll talk to her,” you said quietly. “I’ll make it right, okay?”

Ekko nodded, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before letting go. “You’d better,” he said, though his voice held more concern than anger. “She needs you to be better than this.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed the faint sound of Mila’s sniffles to a secluded corner of the hideout. She was curled up on the floor, her back to the wall and her headless toy dragon clutched tightly in her arms. Her small shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and the sight made your chest ache.

“Mila,” you said softly, kneeling down a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at you, her face buried in the dragon’s wooden wings. “You yelled at me,” she said, her voice muffled but heavy with hurt. “I didn’t mean to be loud…”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I wasn’t angry at you, Mila. I’m just… not feeling like myself today but hat’s not an excuse. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m so sorry for scaring you.”

Mila peeked up at you, her tear-streaked face breaking your heart. “You promise you’re not mad?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes i promise you that,” you said, reaching out slowly. She didn’t pull away when you rested a hand on her knee. “You’ve been so brave and strong since you came here, Mila. I’m really proud of you. And I’m really, really sorry for making you feel like you did something wrong.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed her tiny hand on top of yours. “Okay,” she said softly. “I forgive you.”

Relief flooded through you, and you pulled her into a gentle hug. She wrapped her arms around your neck, her headless toy dragon squished between you. “You’re my favorite grown-up,” she whispered, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with emotion. “Well, you’re my favorite storyteller,” you said, pulling back just enough to see her face. “How about we go back and tell the others a story? You can even make one up about a scary headless dragon.”

Mila’s eyes lit up, her earlier sadness melting away. “Okay!” she said, her smile returning in full force. “But you have to help me make it really good.”

“Deal,” you said, standing and taking her hand. As you walked back to the play area together, you glanced over your shoulder to see Ekko watching from a distance, a small smile tugging at his lips. As you stood beside mila and the other kids, you somehow managed to glue the head back to the headless dragon. Now it wasn’t headless anymore. Mila looked up at you, thanking you for fixing her dragon. A smile crept up her face. Even thought it was a small gesture of kindness after you made her cry, she thought it was a big deal. It was precious how mila would think even the smallest things were the best thing. Adorable.

You definitely knew that you still had work to do on yourself. To control your emotions and impulses but as well as being a person Mila could to look up to. However as her laughter rang out again, you felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be that person after all.

But was it true? The lines between reality and fiction began to converge. It all made sense as the waterfall’s thunder filled your ears. You stood motionless on the ledge, staring at the mirror-like surface of the lake below. Your reflection rippled faintly, distorted by the spray of water. You didn’t see yourself as you were, but only what you feared you had become. Mila’s tear-streaked face flashed in your mind, her sobs echoing louder than the rushing water. The guilt felt unbearable, pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift. Your trembling fingers brushed against the edge of the rocky ledge, the cold biting into your skin. A sob escaped your throat as tears fell freely, mingling with the mist around you. You apologizing to mila and fixing her headless dragon was all fake. Your mind imagined it. So right now mila was sad, hiding in a corner as she cried. What a horrible person i am.

“Maybe they’d all be better off without me,” you whispered to the air, your voice trembling as it was swallowed by the roar of the falls. The words left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind. You had tried, tried so hard to fit in, to make Zaun feel like home. Yet every mistake, every outburst reminded you that you didn’t belong. The Firelights were kind, but they didn’t understand you. Mila didn’t deserve your anger, and Ekko didn’t deserve the chaos you continued to bring into to his life. You stepped closer to the edge, the rocks shifting beneath your feet.

The world seemed to narrow as you took another step forward, your gaze fixed on the lake below. You fell silently, the cold air rushing past you before the icy water enveloped you like a second skin. The cold was shocking at first, stealing your breath, but then everything went quiet. You sank deeper, the surface growing distant as the weight of the water pressed in from all sides. The noise in your head didn’t stop, though. It only grew louder, something you couldn’t escape.

Images of your mother flickered in your mind, her smile fading like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto. Anya’s laughter echoed, only to be drowned out by the sharp voice of your father. You’re not good enough. You never will be. The words clung to you like chains, dragging you deeper into the lake. You thought of Piltover and how it had abandoned you. Whereas with Zaun, you were nothing more than an outsider. Even here, even with Ekko, you felt like a burden. The water cradled you, its silence deceptive as your body floated aimlessly. You closed your eyes, hoping for darkness, for peace, but it didn’t come. Nothing was ever easy for you.

Instead, the world exploded in sound, a loud splash followed by muffled movements cutting through the water. You opened your eyes to see a figure diving toward you, moving with urgency. Ekko. His form was unmistakable even through the distorted water. He was always saving you after you do something stupid. How long would this last? When would it be the last time that he would save you?

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you upward with a strength you couldn’t resist. You felt the rush of cold air as he broke the surface, his grip on you tightened as he dragged you to the shore. His breaths came heavy, his movements frantic as he laid you down on the damp grass.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. He crouched over you, his hands gripping your shoulders as his eyes searched your face. “Do you even understand what you just did?”

You turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze. “I—I didn’t mean for you to find me,” you said weakly, your voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m tired of feeling like this.”

“That’s not an excuse!” His voice cracked, his frustration palpable. “You don’t get to just give up! And leave me like that.” He paused, taking a shaky breath before softening his tone. “Damn it.”

A small voice broke the tense silence. “Why did you do it?” Mila stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and tearful as she clutched her arms tightly. “Did I do something wrong? Was it because of me?”

Your chest tightened, the guilt suffocating as you shook your head. “No, Mila. No. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Mila hesitated, her small hands twisting nervously in front of her. “You said you cared about me. But then you yelled… I thought…” Her words trailed off, her voice breaking.

Ekko placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault, Mila,” he said gently. “Sometimes grown-ups do stupid things when they’re hurting. But that doesn’t mean we stop caring. You’ve gotta trust me on that.” He glanced at you pointedly, his meaning clear.

You sat up slowly, your body trembling from the cold. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, this time to both of them. “I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking about what it would do to you. I never wanted to hurt either of you.”

Mila stepped closer, hesitating before reaching out to touch your hand. “Are you gonna be okay now?” she asked softly, her voice still uncertain.

You nodded, tears threatening to fall down your face as you squeezed her hand gently. “I’ll try to be. I promise.”

Ekko sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he helped you to your feet. “We need to find something to help you with this,” he said firmly. “I need the old you back. I want my firefly back.”

There was no way that a cure for shimmer exists in Zaun. And even if it did, even if someone had it, they wouldn’t give it up that easily. Not without a fight. Maybe you had to deal with your new life, the one were you were unstable and unpredictable. How can someone love a person like this. How can someone do deserving of something better like ekko deserve a person like you?

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banner. @anitalenia

[mariasont]

clawed and ordered

hotch discovers bright red scratches down his back and now you're scrambling to cover them (and yourself) befor the team sees your handiwork.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader warnings: mentions of sexual activity (implied/past), scratching/marking, lots of banter, hotch being manhandled by his hot girlfriend prompt: here! wc: 0.6k

“— so obviously, swimsuits are cute, but they’re also totally optional, just so we’re crystal clear,” you say. “If later on yours becomes unbearably restrictive, know that I’m deeply supportive of your comfort. Girlfriend-of-the-year-level supportive, in fact.”

The groan Aaron lets out in response is pure suffering wrapped in velvet bass, however it only seems to nourish your Cheshire-cat grin like sunlight coaxing a flower into bloom. Every tortured noise he produces just serves to encourage you to provoke another.

He’s smart enough to know this.

His hand reaches back to tighten around your thigh in a grip you recognize as meant to communicate something authoritative and all-things-Aaron-Hotchner, no fun whatsoever permitted. But all your brain translates is the feeling on his large palm bleeding into bare skin. He’s an enabler on all sides whether intentional or not.

“Behave yourself.”

You press your pinky into the dimple that sits at the base of his neck.

“If I behave myself, you’d die of boredom within the hour. And I refuse to be responsible for that.”

There’s that groan again, muffled this time against his arms that are folded to prop his face on. Your own face is propped by his back, which now radiates warmth into your flesh, solid muscle serving as your personal, sun-heated towel. Beneath you, his shoulders stretch broad and dependable, as sturdy as if carved from marble or lifting government issued vehicles in his downtime.

Unlikely, sure, but it’s a wonderful visual. You think he shoulder consider it. And if he ever is in need of the adrenaline-spiking-damsel-in-distress-catalyst, well, you’ll gladly step in.

“You’re many things, honey, but boring definitely isn’t one of them. Exhausting, yes. Boring, never.”

You nip gently at his pulse point, releasing only when he starts to squirm.

“Just making sure you’re not dozing off,” you tease. “Wouldn’t want you falling asleep mid-conversation. Y'know, since I’m so exhausting and all.”

“Keep that up and you’re going to start something we can’t exactly finish out here.”

Lazy streaks of sunlight drape over your shoulders as your eyes drift across the lake, landing on Morgan, who’s currently putting on a muscle show that Garica is enthusiastically encouraging with splashes and laughter.

“Mm, true,” you concede, “but fortunately we’re adults, and adults can relocate.”

You plant an innocent kiss between his shoulder blades as punctuation then rise slowly, hands smoothing down his back until you’re upright straddling him.

You pause when your nails get caught on an imperfection.

Bright red scratches trace down his spine, your enthusiastic handiwork glaring back at you like a glitter-covered neon billboard. 

Face heating to volcanic temperatures, you frantically flop back onto Aaron, plastering yourself across him with all the subtlety of a cat knocking things off a countertop.

Perhaps if you just… don’t move, they’ll spontaneously fade into obscurity. A girl can hope.

He releases a startled grunt beneath you, craning his neck awkwardly to look back. “Did you just… tackle me?”

“Maybe,” you mumble evasively, squeezing him tighter. “But it’s out of love, so you can’t be mad.”

He doesn’t waste breath as he maneuvers you onto his chest, but as his back connects with the ground, his features briefly crumple, eyes tightening with a small, involuntary wince.

He exhales sharply, the sound slipping through gritted teeth.

“...Did I pull something earlier?”

You pat his chest reassuringly, nodding. “Pretty sure you’re just getting old. Happens to the best of us.”

Aaron’s brows pinch together for a moment before understanding flashes across his face.

“Interesting. Because I distinctly recall someone clawing at my back earlier.”

“Nope, that’s definitely just your elderly imagination acting up.”

Aaron shifts suddenly from under you, and before you can manage even the tiniest squeak of protest, he’s surging upward, throwing you onto his back.

You burst into giggles, tightening your arms around his shoulders. “Wait, wait, where are we going?”

“Inside,” he replies. “You’re my human shield so the team doesn’t see your artwork.”

“Shouldn’t I at least get a thank you?”

“You’ll get more than a thank you,” he replies. “In fact, I plan on returning the favor. And judging by these very minimal swimsuits you’re fond of, everyone’s going to see my gratitude.”

join me at the lake for my 5k event!

day 1 extras

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maria's red, white and bau masterlist

[mead-iocre]

Chase Me | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: you ask you very atheletic, footballer girlfriend to chase you-- for a tiktok video

wc: 1k words

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The sky is still tinged with a hint of pink, and the road is mostly empty, save for a few scattered sounds—a bird, the distant hum of a car.

You stretch, lunging from side to side. You stand at the edge of the sidewalk, one foot up on the pavement, leaning into the stretch until you feel that familiar pull along the back of your leg.

Then you switch sides, easing into the stretch onto the other leg, just as your girlfriend comes up from beside you.

"baby, this is silly"

You turn to her, a small smile already plastered on your face upon seeing the unamused expression on hers. Despite her words, there was no hint of malice in her voice.

She's stood just outside the camera's view, boots scuffed from the last practice session, hands on her hips like she owned the whole bloody pitch.

“I’ll catch you easily,” Your girlfriend said, her voice almost lazy in tone. It wasn’t just a bit of banter—it was a warning, delivered with the calm of someone who knew exactly how the game would go.

You breeze past her. "that's what makes it fun, lee"

She clicks her tongue. "I can't believe I let you convince me to do another one of your tiktok videos"

Reaching up to tighten your ponytail, you eye her as she begins to do her own stretches. Despite your girlfriend's initial reluctance, you knew it would only be a matter of time until she agreed. Leah was competitive, and she would never turn down a challenge.

She's dressed in her nike training top, and her training shorts. Her legs were still tan from your latest getaway to Nice, and she was wearing her favourite pair of trainers-- the same trainers she wore during training for her professional football job.

Glancing at the nike trainers on her feet, you were starting to have second thoughts. The whole point of the trend was to challenge your partner to a foot chase-- for no particular reason really. Most of the people who participated had partners who were police officers, in the military, firefighters etc.

Having an athlete girlfriend who ran and chased balls for a living-- yeah this video was going to be 5 seconds long, 6 seconds if you're lucky.

But you weren't about to admit that to her.

You take a deep breath, finishing your last couple of stretches, before standing up to your full height. Jogging over to your phone that was perched on a tripod, you press the red record button before you move over to the side.

"okay so im gonna run--"

"and i have to count to 10 before I chase after you-- i got it, baby"

Glancing at her, Leah had that familiar look on her face. She was clearly in no rush-- like she could already see how it would play out, the timing, the run, the moment she'd close the distance. It was all there, lined up in her head like a match she’d already won.

All that was left was the wait.

Making sure the record button on your phone was on, you flash her a quick smile, before you launched forward.

No build-up—just that sharp push off the ground, your legs pump fast, harder than ever before. The air claws at your face, whipping past your ears. You don't even dare to look behind you because you know it will only slow you down.

Your feet slap at the pavement, you can already feel your lungs get tighter but you don't stop. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, barely keeping up.

You hear the sound of another set of feet pounding faintly behind you.

Leah was already running.

She wasn't chasing you for this silly little tiktok challenge-- she's chasing you like she's going to win whatever this was. She’d probably already read your run, knew the angles, and she probably had that smug glint in her eye like she’d already headed the ball past the keeper.

You steal a glance over your shoulder and there she is—focused, fast, her blonde ponytail snapping behind her. She’s not laughing. Her eyes are locked on you, sharp and blue, and you know that look. You’ve seen it on the pitch. During matches. At the gym.

It’s game over.

“Oh, bloody-- fuck-- come on,” you gasp out, trying to hold your lead, but she’s already closing the distance like she’s barely trying.

“Shouldn’t have started this,” she calls out, voice steady despite the speed. She’s barely winded. Of course she’s not.

You push harder, legs screaming now, but she’s too fast. She doesn’t really thud against the pavement like you do. She glides. Like on water. And within seconds, she’s right there, then—

“gotcha!”

She ends your fun as she barrels into you from behind, her laugh loud and husky as she throws her arms around your shoulders. You try to gasp out a protest, but she’s already trapping you in her arms, locking you against her body with no room to escape.

She's grinning now, cheeks flushed rosy, breath coming in sharp but still controlled breathes.

You double over, laughing between gasps. “Fuck-- I really thought I had that”

"You did good, baby" Leah nuzzles into the side of your neck, breath coming in soft pants against your skin. "But you can't outrun a footballer"

You shake your head, still catching your breath. But you let yourself sink into her and she gladly steadies you, welcoming your weight in her arms.

Leaning back, you throw your head back to rest it against her shoulder, smiling when you feel her kiss the side of your head.

“I thought maybe you would slow you down for me” You admit, taking her hand that was wrapped around your waist to bring it to your lips, giving the back of her hand a kiss. "s'not fair"

She leans in close, voice low and cocky. “fuck no”

Leah grabs your chin, turning it towards her. "Now give me a kiss for having to endure your stupid tiktok trends"

Your heart was still pounding erratically and you were still trying to catch your breath, but all you could focus on was her.

You smile, leaning in closer. "what if i don't want to?"

There came that familiar smirk. The same one she flashed just before the chase began; like she knew exactly how this was going to play out. Like the ending was already etched in her mind.

"i know ya do."

the moment ends exactly like how Leah predicted.

With your lips on hers.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

another leah fic WHO ELSE CHEERED (i reallyyyy hope yall did otherwise i will be sad)

I also really hope you guys enjoyed this fic because this one is probably one of my favourite short blurbs that I’ve ever written lol

any plans this summer? for me, i'll be here writing fics lol

hope you're all taking care of yourselves x

-- butter

[flaminhotlem0n]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

genre: smut, threesome

wc: ~900

pairing: jeno x f!reader x jaemin

cw: double penetration, choking, slapping, explicit language, rough sex

not proofread

──────────────────────

the air was thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. their bodies were already slick, skin flushed and glowing, but the hunger hadn’t faded, it had only grown.

jeno leaned back against the headboard, legs spread wide, cock already hard again as he watched you crawl toward him, eyes blown wide with lust. jaemin knelt behind you, one hand gripping your ass, the other teasing between your thighs, already soaked and trembling.

“you’re not tired, are you baby?” jeno smirked, running his thumb across your lips.

you shook your head, voice breathless. “no… i want more”

“good” jaemin growled behind you “because we’re nowhere near done with you”

without warning, jaemin slapped your ass hard, the sound cracked through the room, followed by your soft gasp. he did it again, just to hear the way you moaned.

jeno pulled you into his lap, guiding your onto his cock. you sank down slowly, walls stretching, taking him deep.

“fuck, you’re tight” jeno hissed, gripping your hips. “even after everything”

jaemin didn’t wait. he spat into his hand, slicked himself up, and pressed against your ass.

your breath hitched. the stretch burned, delicious and filthy, but you didn’t stop, you wanted it, you needed it.

jaemin pushed in slowly, his cock sliding in beside jeno’s. your mouth fell open in a silent scream, body trembling from the overwhelming fullness.

“that’s it” jeno grunted, gripping your throat gently “take us both, you can handle it”

when they were both buried deep inside you, their bodies pressed against yours from both sides, you felt owned, completely ruined in the best way.

jaemin leaned forward, lips brushing your ear.

“you’re shaking already, sweetheart”

he wrapped his hand around your neck too, over jeno’s, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

“look at you” he whispered “being such a good little slut for us”

your body jolted when jaemin pulled back and thrust in again, hard. jeno matched him, perfect rhythm, fucking her between them.

“you feel that” jeno growled “how we’re splitting you open together”

you nodded desperately, moaning with every breath.

“say it” jaemin demanded, slapping your cheek, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp.

your eyes fluttered open, glazed and needy.

“you’re both so deep” you cried “you’re— you’re fucking ruining me”

they groaned in unison, each thrust harder than the last. jeno’s hand tightened slightly around your neck, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you, filthy and rough, tongue claiming your mouth like he owned it.

jaemin grabbed your hips, digging his fingers in so hard you knew there’d be bruises. he pulled you back onto him with every stroke, grunting through his teeth.

“fucking made for us” jaemin growled “this little pussy was meant to be stretched open by our cocks”

“tell us whose you are” jeno demanded, breath ragged “who do you fucking belong to”

your voice broke on a scream. “yours, both of yours, uhh fuck”

they didn’t stop. if anything, it got rougher, their cocks dragged against each other inside you, filling you completely. you mind going blank. no thoughts, just heat and pain and overwhelming pleasure.

your nails clawed at jeno’s chest, legs shaking.

jaemin leaned forward and bit your shoulder.

“gonna make you cum like this, with both our cocks buried inside you”

“you’ll be dripping with us” jeno added “stuffed full”

your orgasm built like a tidal wave, overwhelming and fast. you didn’t even have time to warn them, it crashed over you in a scream, body locking tight as your walls clenched around them both.

the boys groaned, lost in the feeling

“that’s it, baby” jeno whispered in your ear “cum all over us”

but they didn’t slow down. they kept thrusting through your orgasm, chasing their own.

jaemin slapped your cheek again, a little harder this time, and grinned when you eyes rolled back.

“fucking take it. you love this, don’t you”

“yes” you sobbed “i love it, i love being yours”

jeno kissed you again, biting your bottom lip.

they slammed into you together, rhythm syncing perfectly, both of them losing control.

when jaemin came, it was with a low, guttural moan, hips jerking hard. jeno followed seconds later, growling against your neck as he filled you up.

you stayed like that , all three of you, breathless, tangled, sweaty.

but it wasn’t over.

jeno pulled out slowly, cum dripping down your thighs. jaemin followed, slapping your ass one last time before standing.

“get on the floor” he ordered “on your knees, mouth open”

you obeyed instantly, falling to your knees on the carpet, lips parted and tongue out.

jeno stepped in front of you and slapped his cock against your cheek.

“such a perfect little slut” he murmured “let me see that mouth”

you took him deep, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat. jaemin stroked himself behind you, watching you suck jeno with greedy desperation.

then they switched.

jaemin shoved his cock into your mouth next, groaning at how wet and warm it was. jeno knelt behind you, spreading your legs again.

“we’re not done until you beg us to stop”

and you didn’t plan to. not for a second

[cherryxhaze]

Indulgence of the Flesh

Remmick x Fem Reader

Summary: In your darkest hour, a figure approaches as a glimmer of hope. He is no man, but a creature, a monster, with pretty promises on his lips. Promises that do not prepare you for the pleasures of the flesh he will bestow upon you. WC: ~9.1k Tags: MDNI! 18+, plus size reader, no use of y/n, manipulation, depression, stalking, brief mention of insecurities, smut, vampire sex (claws, fangs, and all), unprotected p in v, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, remmick is a switch, sub and dom remmick, squirting, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, breeding, praise kink, possessiveness, spit/drool kink, blood drinking, and anal play (fem receiving). Notes: Please keep your kitties indoors! This is my first Remmick fic and the longest smut I've ever written. Enjoy! Shout-out to @eternalstrigoii @spikedfearn @madkingcrowley @confetti-cakemix for their help with inspiration and ideas. gif credit to @stray-cat-with-internet-access AO3 Link

You step out into the night and onto your front porch, bare feet padding along the worn wooden planks. A slight and welcomed breeze caresses your freshly clean skin, sweat and dirt from a long day of work forgotten down the drain of your shower. You wish the stream of water could’ve rid you of more than just the consequences of living in the Mississippi Delta. With each step you take toward the old porch swing that’s been a permanent fixture throughout your life, you feel the heavy tightness in your chest, the exhaustive haze clouding your mind.

You sigh deeply and close your tired eyes as you sit on the swing, the wood creaking in protest. You’re sure one day it’ll break, catch you off guard and give out under your weight, but thankfully it’s not another thing to add to your list of misfortunes for today. You stretch your legs across the bench of the swing, propping your elbow onto the back to hold up your weary head. With your eyes closed, you try to focus your senses on the late summer night around you. The constant hum of the cicadas mating calls fill your ears, mixing with the familiar symphony of chirping crickets. You feel the warm breeze brush against the bare skin left uncovered by the thin linen nightgown adorning your body. Even then, the nature around you does little to keep your mind from drifting, returning to the events of the day and the feelings that have burrowed themselves and made a home in your chest. 

You feel utterly and truly alone.

It seems like life is constantly reminding you of it. The home and farm you’ve lived your whole life, once filled with life but now only contains memories of your loved ones that are long gone. A home once filled with a vibrant albeit sometimes chaotic family, now only houses a young woman, struggling to find her way in a world that seems to stack the odds against her favor.

As if on cue, you hear a gentle merp from your side, beckoning you to open your tired eyes to see the black ball of fur that is your companion, Jack.

“C’mere, boy.” You coax the feline with a small smile and a pat on your thighs, to which he eagerly obliges, already purring as he jumps onto your lap. He rubs his face and entire body against your belly and chest, marking you with his scent and seeking affection. You gather him into your arms and hold him close, inhaling his familiar scent. The feeling of his warm fur and purrs vibrating throughout his body and into yours provides you with a little bit of the comfort you seek.

“It’s been such a hard day, boy.” You murmur into his fur, your voice cracking along with your walls that struggle to hold back the emotions stewing inside. Your nails gently scratch his head as you close your eyes, feeling them begin to burn with rapidly rising tears. You’re too tired to hold them back, deciding to let them fill your waterline before streaking down your round cheeks and into Jack’s fur, though he doesn’t seem to mind it.

You let yourself sit in it. Tears flowing, mind freely drifting to the small heartaches of the day that built up to become too unbearable. Hateful hearts held behind judgemental gazes, grueling work under an oppressive heat, and a new girl on the arm of a man you thought you’d have it all with. A deep, shaky inhale flows into your lungs, nose sniffling as you gulp in an attempt to swallow some of the emotions down your throat.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Your wet eyes fly open, head shooting up from where it’d been buried in Jack’s fur at the sudden sound of a masculine voice holding a southern twang. The moonlight shines against his back, outlining the strange man’s figure. 

“Ya alright?” His tone is gentle, carrying the undeniable twinge of concern. You sniffle and clear your throat as your eyes take in his figure, fixed on the edge of your front yard and taking cautious steps closer. He wears dark trousers held up by suspenders, fashioned over a clean light blue button up shirt, the top left unbuttoned where you can barely make out the glimmer of a small chain hanging over his chest.

“I’m fine.” You assert, despite the words croaking slightly from your dry throat. You straighten your spine as you watch him skeptically. “Who are you, exactly?” You challenge with narrowed eyes, mentally questioning how quickly you could run into the house and grab the stashed away shotgun if needed. It isn’t often people randomly roam along this gravel road at night, let alone knowing what intentions the ones that do may carry.

“Aw I’m sorry, Darlin’. Where are my manners? I’m Remmick.” The words drip from his tongue like molasses, slow, heavy, and warm. You watch as he raises his hands placatingly, palms facing you. He’s close enough now for the porch light to cast a faint, warm glow over him. Dark strands of hair hang over his forehead, curling at the ends. With a better view of him, you notice he’s quite handsome.

Suddenly, Jack jumps off your lap with a high-pitched, inquisitive meow, scurrying across the porch, down the steps and right to Remmick’s feet. Your lips part, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you watch your skittish cat rub against the stranger’s legs, meowing and gazing up at him. The very same cat that runs and hides on the rare occasion new people come around.

Remmick looks down at the cat, shadows of the night hiding the smirk on his lips as he watches Jack sniff him, searching for the familiar scent of fish.  No doubt expecting his recurring treat Remmick has been sneaking to him in the dead of night to gain his trust, and eventually yours when he finally decided to make his move on you. 

No fish tonight, boy. Remmick chuckles softly to himself as he bends down to pet the feline on his head. Jack accepts the pets with each, but once he realizes that Remmick has arrived tonight empty handed, he turns away and prances off into the dark. Remmick straightens back up and when his eyes fall to you and take in your surprised expression, a prideful satisfaction fills him. Numerous nights while you slept, he spent gathering small fish, coaxing Jack to come closer and closer until he readily ran up to him, and it paid off. Your shoulders are less tense, your gaze isn’t so harsh, and just as predicted, your defenses have lowered. He’s sure his charms can handle the rest.

Your eyes follow Jack until his body disappears into the dark of the night, then settles back onto the strange but handsome man who seems to be the only person to make an instantaneous friendship with your wary feline. Remmick’s hands have moved to settle in his pockets, his eyes and smile soft and warm as he looks up at you.

“Do ya always wander around in the dark and startle people, Remmick?” You question him with the faintest hint of humor lacing your words, cocking an eyebrow as you cross your arms over your stomach.

“Well that certainly wasn’t my intention, miss. You see, I just moved to the area, down the road a ways. And well, I like walkin’, and I like the night. ‘S quiet, peaceful.” He explains with ease, slowly stepping closer and closer to the porch where you sit. “Just happened to be passin’ by when I noticed ya. You seemed upset… Sure you’re alright, darlin’?” He asks again, concern etched across his face as he leans against the stair railing of your porch.

You can’t recall seeing or hearing about any of your distant neighbors moving, but then again you tend to keep to yourself anyway. Surely you’d just missed any news of a new person in town. You find your body relaxing a bit, easing back against the swing as everything about him seems to disarm you. You shake your head, sharply exhaling through your nostrils, the trails of tears on your cheeks already dried.

“I’m fine. Nothin’ I’d want to burden a stranger with anyway.”

“Well considerin’ we’ve already introduced ourselves, technically speakin’ we’re not quite strangers anymore, are we?” He flashes you a warm and charming smile, noticing the way you’ve already relaxed to his presence so quickly. “Besides, who better to talk to ‘bout yer problems than someone uninvolved, yeah?”

He cocks his head to the side, tempting you to let him in. To divulge your pain and worries to this handsome man you barely know that stumbled onto your property in your time of despair. A brief silence hangs between you as you contemplate the repercussions of such, eyeing him standing at the bottom of the porch steps as his own gaze at you with nothing but tenderness. It’s been a long time since anyone looked at you like that, let alone offered to do something as selfless as listen to your problems.

“May I?” He nods toward the space on the swing that your legs currently occupy, requesting to join you.

You briefly consider him before sighing, wordlessly moving your legs to free a spot for him. He smiles and ascends the porch, his movements confident and at ease as he approaches and sits next to you, making the swing sway back slightly. His arm stretches out to rest along the back of the bench, fingers mere inches from the bare skin of your shoulder. Every nerve ending in your body stands at attention with him now so close, in your space. His scent invades your nostrils, earthy with the faintest hint of cologne that’s faded throughout the day.

“Now, what’s got you so upset, darlin’?” His voice is low and honeyed, you can practically feel it reverberate through his chest and into yours. You shift and let your eyes flutter down to your lap, unsure of how to handle the sudden intensity of his undivided attention. You ponder just how much you should say. While part of you is begging to unburden yourself and release the pent up despair inside of you, the other is wary of revealing too much to a stranger, formality of introductions aside.

“A collection of things over time, really. Buildin’ up. Today was just the cherry on top, I suppose.” You finally answer, glancing back up to catch the way his brows furrow and head leans closer, waiting for more.

More of everything. Of you. Not just the heartaches that plague your mind. Your essence, your joys and sorrows, your pleasure and pain, your soul and entire being. There’s only so much he can learn from observing you these last few weeks. He wants it all. His fingers twitch with resistance, lingering so close to your exposed skin that he’d barely have to move an inch to touch you. To finally be so close to you, within grasp, has his whole body buzzing and coiled tight. He can’t, he won’t squander it.

“I saw my, uh…” You pause, taking a deep inhale as you search for the right words to say. He certainly wasn’t a boyfriend, no, his intentions were far too shallow and brief for such a title. “My ex-lover today. Out around town, with a new girl on his arm.” Prettier. Skinnier. Wealthier. In public. You leave the rest unspoken, the comparisons you’ve made on impulse.

You can’t help but shake your head at yourself, feeling silly for letting a man so unworthy hold power over you. But ever since you saw the new couple together, images from that night a few months ago pass through your head. The private flirtations that led to a meager, unsatisfactory act of sex. The other side of your bed left empty the next morning. The cold shoulder, diverted glances, and radio silence ever since. The unfulfilled promises of something more, of love, of family, of belonging.

“It’s not that I love him or miss him for that matter, it’s just…” Your voice trails off, gaze cast out into the expansive dark openness of the fields around your home, the occasional flicker of a warm yellow glow from lightning bugs catching your eye. It’s a welcomed sight filled with a nostalgic comfort that reminds you of childhood, but does little to dispel the heaviness that’s settled in your chest. 

“Wonderin’ why you weren’t good enough? If you’ll ever have what your heart desires?” He sucks his teeth, shaking his head with a sigh. “That’s a real hurtin’ feeling, darlin’. Yeah…” Your gaze immediately snaps back to his, caught off guard by how truly and easily his words speak to your pain.

“A feelin’ a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to hold.” 

“You’re too kind.” You exhale a dismissive scoff, even as the corners of your lips curve up into a smile. He’s merely being kind, chivalrous, responding in the way anyone who’d want to make a good impression would.

But he doesn’t brush it off and move on, he pushes further.

“Naw. I mean it, sugar. You’re beautiful. Ain’t your fault he couldn’t appreciate what was right in front of ‘im.” His voice holds no humor, his eyes intense and serious. You could almost swear there’s a flicker of longing in their dark depths, but you dismiss that too. 

“But I can. I can save you from this pain in your heart, your mind.” He shifts, his upper body leaning closer toward you. 

You go still, surprised by his forwardness and the implications of his words, his body and touch drawing nearer. Your brows furrow, scrunching together in skepticism before a short chuckle slips past your lips.

“Is that so? And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I can give you what you need. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Acceptance, Love, Fellowship… A family.”

You’re sure you must be dreaming or at the least your sanity has finally cracked. A man you met no more than 10 minutes ago offering you all of your heart’s desires. There’s a little voice in the back of your head telling you that something is off, that this isn’t normal. Danger is creeping in like a dark fog, spreading tendrils reaching out to grasp and pull you in. His presence and words are captivating, damn near intoxicating, and you find yourself caught between needing to run away and lean into him.

“You don’t even know me.” Is all you can muster saying. Pointing out the obvious, glaring flaw to such a proclamation as outlandish as his.

“Oh, but I do. You were callin’ out to me, lurin’ me here. Your soul singin’ a sad, yearnin’ song I know too well. See, I’ve been watchin’ you…” He can’t hold himself back any longer and closes the scant distance between his hand and your body, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of your shoulder and working up toward your neck with a slow, teasing caress. Your breath catches in your throat, his touch awakening every nerve with a warm tingle that cascades down your body.

“I know you better than he ever did,” He spits the word out as if it burns his tongue, flames of jealousy blazing at the thought of another man touching you, let alone not appreciating the gift of it. “better than anyone in this town does.”

“I…I don’t even know you.” Your voice grows less confident and weaker with your resolve as his pull becomes stronger. You wet your lips, gulping down your dry throat, chest rising and falling with each breath that comes heavier.

“We are the same, darlin’. In here.” He lifts his other hand, placing his palm gently over your heart. He feels it pound against his palm, chipping away at his rapidly declining control over himself. “And when we merge as one and come together, you’ll know everything there is to know about me. But for now…” 

His eyes follow the movement of his fingers, trailing from over your heart to the middle of your chest, sliding down the exposed skin of your sternum. He watches with satisfaction as goosebumps rise along your skin in the trail of his touch, the way your breaths hitch and quicken. “I’m from another place and another time. Everything I’ve done, everywhere I’ve been, it’s led me here… to you.”

His hand falls to your knee, creeping up the bare skin of your thick thighs left uncovered by your nightgown. Finally feeling your warm, plush flesh beneath his hand hits him like a wave, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut with a choked, muffled groan. You feel his soft grip, his fingers growing longer around your flesh as he loses his last bit of restraint, nails like claws subtly digging into your skin. When he opens his eyes to meet yours, they’re no longer dark from the shadows of the night, but glowing red.

You suck in a breath that catches in your throat at the sight of his mask finally slipping. He is no man, but a creature of some sort. A creature that’s looking at you as if it wants to devour you and savor every bite. 

And you just might let him.

“What do ya say, sugar? You gon’ let me make ya mine?” You spot the sharp ends of fangs peek out from behind his lips as he murmurs the question, drool slipping past them and down his chin. His fingers squeeze into the meat of your thigh, massaging the flesh and slowly creeping higher. The unmistakable feeling of arousal courses through your body, pulsing between your thighs that you can’t stop yourself from parting slightly.

That little voice in the back of your head warning you of danger begins to fade until it’s completely snuffed out, overtaken by longing and desire. Maybe if you weren’t so tired, if you weren’t so lonely and teetering on the edge of hopelessness, you’d have the right mind to listen to that voice. To be frightened and run into the safety of your home screaming. To feel shame for the way your body is responding to him. To see this as a trap, as a serpent tempting you with forbidden fruit. 

But you’re just reckless enough not to care, and he knows it. After all, what do you have left to lose… except your soul.

Your eyes lock onto the drool dripping down his chin and your own mouth salivates at the sight. You don’t answer him with words, but with your body as you lean closer toward him to close the distance. He closes his eyes expecting for his lips to meet yours, only to press against your cheek. Your tongue darts out, slowly dragging up his chin to the corner of his mouth, collecting the drool on your tongue and swallowing it deep.

You feel a shudder run through his body, a rumbling groan that almost sounds like a whimper escaping his parted lips. He turns his head toward you, red eyes smoldering with unbridled desire. A beat passes before his hand moves from your shoulder to thread his claws into your hair at the base of your skull and his lips crash against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. His mouth muffles your soft gasp, but you return the kiss with equal desire. Your hands reach out and grasp onto him, fisting the fabric of his shirt and holding onto his neck.

He hitches your leg over his, spreading your thighs wide as his tongue parts your lips, delving in to explore the depths of your mouth. Your moans as your tongue meets his pushes him farther, hand sliding higher up your high to feel the heat radiating off your core. Your tongues lick and lap at each other, swirling around in feverish, filthy dance. Your hips buck with a whimper when his hand slides beneath your gown to cup your bare, wet heat. A growl rumbles in his chest, a single digit gliding through and parting your wet folds before settling on your clit.

“So wet for me already, baby.” He rasps against your lips with the subtlest hint of condescension in his tone, but it only makes your pussy throb and clench, squeezing around nothing and aching to be filled. The rough pad of his finger begins to circle your clit slowly, working you up even more with every pass over the sensitive nub.

He revels in the way your body responds to him so eagerly, the way your hips chase his touch, coaxing him to press harder and move faster, the way your pussy grows slicker with each passing second, coating his claws in your arousal. His mouth eagerly swallows every moan and whimper his touch pulls from you, every pretty, wrecked sound making his cock grow harder and strain against his pants. 

Remmick pulls his lips from yours, needing to taste and explore more of you, needing to hear your moans unstifled from his mouth. Your name escapes his lips like a desperate prayer as his lips move along your jawline, pressing a trail of open mouthed kisses toward the tender skin of your neck.

His tongue slips out to lick a long stripe from the base of your neck to your ear that sends a shiver down your spine, making it arch and pressing your chest harder against his. Your body trembles against him, head swimming with the pleasure of his mouth and fingers working you with ease. 

“Invite me inside, darlin’. Need to worship you proper.” His voice is utterly wrecked and desperate as he practically begs for entry, his breath fanning against your neck with heavy pants. He could take you right here and now on the porch, but he wants to do this right. To worship every inch of you, to pull every bit of pleasure he can from your body in the comfort of your bed. That, and he needs to hear you verbalize what your body is already telling him, that you need him.

You nod eagerly without hesitation, your ears barely registering the creaking protests of the worn wooden swing with every grind of your pussy against his fingers. Surely it wouldn’t survive if things moved farther.

“Yes, Remmick. Come inside.” Your voice is a wavering, pathetic plea, but you’re already too far gone to care. 

He wastes no time in scooping you into his arms and rising to his feet, encouraging your legs to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the ease and speed at which he lifts and carries you with an unexpected strength, sending a thrill through you. His shoes thump along the wooden planks of the porch, swinging the screen door open to freely step inside your home and hearing it slam shut behind you. All the while his mouth never leaves your neck, kissing and sucking, marking the sensitive skin as his. His sharp teeth grazes you almost teasingly, but never digs in hard enough to break skin. Not yet.

Remmick moves throughout your home, following the path to the bedroom as if he’s done it numerous times before. He knows where it is, he’s spent enough nights peering through your window to admire your sleeping form, fantasizing about all the things he’s about to do to you. Remmick lets your bodies fall onto the bed, his own pinning yours down against the sheets as his mouth finds yours again, lips and tongues clashing in a sloppy, wet kiss fueled by uninhibited desire.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock pressed firmly against your core, rocking your hips to seek friction, rubbing your slick folds against his straining bulge. His hands work their way up your thighs, claws catching on your gown as they glide over your curves. His touch is reverent, savoring the feeling of you beneath him and memorizing every inch.

He pulls away from your lips with a groan, chest heaving with ragged breaths as he sits up and takes a moment to admire your disheveled state beneath him. Warm and flushed skin, kiss swollen lips, the marks that are already forming on your neck, the outline of your hard nipples. His eyes rake down your body, hands caressing your thighs before grabbing onto the hem of your gown.

“Gotta taste you, sugar.” His voice is husky and strained through heavy breaths, red eyes locked onto your core as he pushes your dress up. The sight of your soaked folds draws a choked moan from his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips, more drool pooling in his mouth. His hands continue to push your gown up, revealing more and more of your skin. Just as the fabric begins to push over the soft swell of your belly, a wave of shyness crashes over you and your hands grab onto his, stalling his movements.

“Wait-” You blurt out breathlessly, a confusing mix of nervousness and arousal coursing through you. Past experiences and hurt from others come to the forefront of your mind, clouding your judgement even farther. Assuming this man, creature, whatever he is- that has pursued you so diligently could be dismayed by your bare body.

“Naw, baby…” He shakes his head side to side as his eyes flash up to yours, his gaze intense and eyes glowing in the full moonlight shining into the bedroom. “Don’t hide from me.” 

He looks back down to where your hands have stilled his over your hips and pushes past them, continuing to expose more and more of your naked form. You watch, captivated as his body sinks between your parted legs, stretching out across the length of the bed. His eyes flutter closed and his lips follow the path of his hands, kissing and licking your newly exposed skin.

“You’re a goddess…” His voice rumbles, muffled by your flesh as he kisses the stretch marks etched onto your stomach. You let out a sharp, shuddering exhale, overwhelmed by such attention and praise toward your ‘flaws’. His tongue drags along your sternum, your nipples perking as he exposes them to the light breeze filtering through the open window. His eyes flutter open to meet yours, half-lidded, “Told you I was gon’ worship ya, and I meant it.”

His mouth latches onto one of your nipples with a nearly pathetic, whimpering exhale, tongue lapping at the hard nub as he suckles onto it. The stimulation makes your back arch off the bed, gasping “Ohhh!” as your fingers thread into his hair. He lavishes your nipples with attention, flicking his tongue, swirling it around and sucking hard, sending sparks of pleasure through your body and down to your pussy, making your clit throb with need. You force your eyes open to look down and watch as he feasts on your flesh, the sight alone almost as arousing as the physical pleasure he’s bringing you.

Remmick’s glowing red eyes flicker open to lock onto yours and he bares his mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth. You gasp, grip tightening on his hair as his teeth close in around your pebbled nipple, biting just gently enough to tease you. You should be repulsed and frightened by the sight, but you only feel a sick thrill from the sight and your folds grow slicker. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat at your reaction, taking joy in the effect he has on you before he soothes the sting with his tongue and moves to give the same attention to your other breast. 

“Feels so good!” You whimper as a shudder runs through your body, thick thighs tightening around his hips. The sweet sounds he’s pulling from you chips away at his patience, making him needier for more. He pulls away from your breast with a wet pop and a grunt. His saliva covers your nipples, making them harden as the night air turns cool against the sensitive skin.

He begins to descend down your body with a trail of open mouthed kisses, hurried and desperate until his face hovers above your core. One claw slides up the back of your thigh, hooking around the back of your knee and pushing it back toward the bed. A thick rope of drool slips past his bottom lip as he watches your soaking wet folds part for him, the needy way your entrance clenches around nothing and he sees you’re just as desperate for him.

“So wet and ready for me… so perfect.” He rasps, low and ragged before he dives in, his tongue flat as it slowly licks up through your pussy, collecting your essence on his tongue.

“Fuck!” You gasp softly, back arching with a flick of his tongue against your clit. His tongue curls, diving into your fluttering hole. He’s messy and hungry, burying his face into your cunt like a man on a mission, lapping up every drop of your juices.

You expect him to just give you a few chaste licks before moving on and shoving himself inside you, but it’s clear he’s not going anywhere just yet. His arms slide under your legs and clasp over your stomach, holding you against the mattress as he eats your pussy like a starving man digging into a full feast laid out before him.

“Oh… this is the closest I’ll ever be to the gods. Right here between your thighs, darlin’.” He murmurs against you, guttural and strained. His tongue moves from your entrance to focus on your sensitive clit, alternating between circling and flicking his tongue against it. He watches the way you react, the way your thick thighs begin to close in around his head, the way your hips jerk when he sucks the bud between his lips.

“Remmick… fuck, yes!” You cry out as his cheeks hollow with a hard suck, your thighs trembling, toes curling, and fingers tightening their grip on his hair. The sounds of his slurping and suckling meet your ears as the spikes of ecstasy radiate throughout your body. You never knew a man’s mouth could feel this good, could fill you with so much bliss that you can’t focus on anything else but him, devouring you as if he knows your pussy better than you do.

Your hips rock against his mouth as he sucks and licks, chasing the rapidly building pleasure in your core. Remmick’s hands slide up your stomach to find your breasts, long claws tweaking and tugging your nipples, sending another wave of pleasure through your body. 

“Oh god.- ’m gonna cum!” You whine as you feel yourself barreling toward the edge, your breaths coming in short and fast. You’re a writhing mess beneath him as he rocks his own hips to seek friction, grinding his clothed erection against the mattress, precum staining his pants. He only answers you with a groan that vibrates through your core, too focused on sending you to your climax to even dare speak. 

Your body begins to tighten and tense, your grip on his hair stinging as you reach your climax before it crashes over you like a tidal wave. A string of high-pitched moans fall from your parted lips, your limbs shaking as ecstasy courses through you, your hips stuttering and jerking against his mouth that doesn’t let up in its assault on your tender clit. He moans against you, watching as you come undone because of him with a deep satisfaction. Your juices begin to soak his chin and as your body starts to relax from the intense climax, his tongue slides down to lap it up eagerly like a reward, like melting soft serve dripping down an ice cream cone.

“You… are… perfect.” He declares through a hoarse and strained voice, drunk off your essence and body, but the look in his glowing eyes and the way he sits up to rip off his clothes tells you he’s nowhere near satiated. 

Your half-lidded eyes follow his movements, the suspenders falling from his shoulders, the claws that rip open his shirt, buttons carelessly flying across the wooden floor, his belt quickly following. You try to keep up, pulling your gown that’s bunched up near your neck over your head and discarded onto the floor before he is back on you.

Remmick’s mouth crashes onto yours, tongue delving in and forcing you to taste yourself from him, and god does it turn you on. The waning bliss from your orgasm rekindles into arousal, still yearning for more of him, all that he’ll give you, more of the same pleasure no other man has been able to draw from your willing body.

He pushes his pants down past his hips, kicking them off before his arms slide underneath you, hands wrapping around your waist. Without parting from your lips, he hoists you into the air and flips you over with a speed that knocks the air from your lungs. When your mind catches up, you realize you’ve switched places and recognize the feeling of his bare cock nestled between your folds. A shiver of anticipation travels down your spine, coaxing your hips to rock back and forth.

A breathy gasp slips past your lips as his tip rubs against your clit, still sensitive from your orgasm. Your hands fall to Remmick’s chest to support yourself as his rub up and down your sides, kneading the supple flesh along your thighs, hips and ass. His sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes locked on the way his cock slides through your slick lips.

“Go on and ride me, sugar. Want you to take it all out on me.” The glowing red orbs finally meet yours as his hands settle on your hips, grip tightening slightly and long nails digging into the meat of your ass. He doesn’t need to elaborate or explain, you understand instantly and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. All the pain and sorrow that’s plagued your days, he wants to be your method of release and freedom from it all. “Take what you need from me.” He adds on breathily, nodding in encouragement as his own hips rock up against you, leaking tip nudging against your sore bundle of nerves again.

You move one of your hands from his chest, sliding down his body to wrap around his cock, slick with your juices and his pre-cum. He’s thick and girthy, long enough to kiss your cervix when it’s buried deep and your pussy clenches in anticipation. You lift your hips off his enough to stand his cock up below you and line his tip with your entrance.

You inhale sharply, eyes closing and mouth falling open as you slowly sink down onto him, his swollen tip breaching your entrance. He grits his sharp teeth, sucking in a shaky breath through them. His head falls back against the pillow and a long, drawn out groan lifts from his throat as you sink further down onto him, inch by painstaking inch. He feels your warm, wet walls fluttering and squeezing around his thick girth and it takes everything in him not to thrust up and fully sheath himself inside you.

But you’re soaking up every second of it, giving your cunt the time to adjust and take him in. Your walls throb with a delicious ache as they stretch around him, accommodating his size. It makes you feel like it’s your first time all over again, but so so much better.

“So big-” you whimper breathlessly, hands gripping onto his chest.

“That’s it. Take it all, baby.” His raspy praise hits your ears like smooth honey as you fully seat yourself on him, hips flush against each other and his cock buried deep.

You take a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you so full before you begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding on his cock.

“Oh… Oohhh, yes!” You cry out softly, letting your head fall back. Your hips move on their own accord, chasing the building pleasure in your core. His hands remain on your hips, guiding you as you ride him, the patch of hair at the base rubbing deliciously against your clit.

Remmick struggles to keep his eyes open as you lose yourself, but he fights the urge to close them completely. The sight of you on top of him, filthy sounds falling from your open mouth, tits bouncing with each roll of your hips, lost in bliss from his cock, is far too good to miss.

“Shit, look at you. That’s my girl.” He pants, watching you with a mix of awe and hunger. His fingers dig into the fat of your ass, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip as he rocks his own hips up to meet the roll of yours- urging more pretty moans to fall from your lips, losing himself in the feel of your gummy walls wrapped around him so tight.

His praise only encourages your movements, rolling and rocking your hips harder and faster. The bed begins to squeak beneath you, nails gently digging into the flesh of his chest. In the chase of your high, you shift off of your knees and to your feet in a squat, earning a strangled groan from Remmick. The change makes your walls grip him even tighter, and eases your movements as you begin to bounce on his shaft.

Your palms are flat against his chest to support yourself, breasts bouncing, and your ass smacking against his heavy balls. The feeling of his cock gliding through your walls is heavenly, knocking the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Fuuuuck… love the way you ride me, baby.” Remmick groans deeply, his southern accent faltering slightly to introduce an unfamiliar melodic tilt, his native Irish brogue breaking though as he succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure of your body. His thick neck flexes as his head falls back against the pillow, lips parting to release short pants and moans, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight.

He’s losing his grip on himself, pleasure rapidly building in his balls with each bounce. You just feel too goddamn good, making him feel the best he’s felt in centuries.

So soft. So warm. So wet. So tight.

“Shit. Stop, sugar…Stop.” He mutters through clenching teeth, the sound nearly pathetic. His grip tightens almost painfully on your hips, stilling your movements.

Your heart drops as a wave of insecurity flashes through your mind. Were you not doing a good job? Did you do something wrong? That is until you look down at him and his tense state. The veins in his neck protrude and pulse, shaky deep inhales through his nostrils. With pleasure still buzzing inside you, your walls squeeze around him unintentionally, drawing a rough whimper from his throat.

“Don’t do that.” He begs with a rasp, low and breathy, his grip tightening even more as if he could stop the sensation. A slow grin begins to spread across your lips and you squeeze around him again, soaking up his reaction. His eyes squeeze shut tighter and a short grunt passes through his clenched teeth.

“Why not, baby? Don’t you like it?” Your voice is teasing, sickly sweet honey dripping over him. He growls in response, but it’s weak, not holding the threatening power it usually would. A thrill buzzes up your spine, power and confidence thrumming through your bones. To have such power over this man, this creature, for your pussy to reduce him to a pathetic mess begging not to bust too quickly. You could oblige him, give him a breather to collect himself to last a little longer, but where’s the fun in that?

You don’t hold back as you continue to squeeze him, warm and wet walls pulsing rhythmically around his thick girth like a heartbeat, your pussy trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He flinches and tenses, lips parting and mouth falling open with a strangled call of your name before a drawn out groan as he climaxes. You moan in return, feeling Remmick’s cum explode and fill you up, leaking out to mix with your own slick at the base of his cock.

You observe him with satisfaction as his climax flows through his body, the changes in his expression, the heaving of his chest, those beautiful sounds from his lips that make you pulse around him once more. Your teeth sink into the fat of your bottom lip in a futile attempt to stifle your wide, shit-eating grin, but as Remmick’s breathing evens out and his eyes slowly flutter open, he sees it. His brows furrow, claws digging into the flesh of your ass as something like determination builds in his chest.

“Think that’s funny, do ye?” He questions with a heavy exhale, Irish accent flowing through as his eyes squint, studying you.

“Not at all. I found it quite cute, actually.” You retort, giddy energy pulsing through your body as your hands caress over his bare chest reassuringly.

“Cute, aye?” He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. You can’t help but giggle innocently in response, drawing a rumble from his throat. “Oh, you’re goin’ get it now.”

His threat sends a tingling shiver down your spine, turning into heat at the base that spreads through your core. He pulls a hand away from your ass before it lands back down onto the flesh with a resounding smack, a sting spreading across the tender skin. A choked moan bursts from your throat as the pain mingles with pleasure, his hand rubbing and soothing reddening skin.

He shifts, maneuvering your body with a dizzying speed and strength, pushing you off of him and onto the mattress on all fours. Behind you, both of Remmick’s hands grip the meat of your ass, kneading and groping the flesh as his still erect cock rests between your spread cheeks.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout having you like this for a long time, darlin’. Bent over, this perfect ass in the air, achin’ for me.” Another resounding smack punctuates his words, making your body jerk before you push yourself back against him, willing and eager for all that he’ll give you. His eyes are fixed to the way your flesh jiggles with the smack, one hand continuing its caress while the other smooths up your spine, guiding you to arch into him.

Remmick’s hand leaves your ass to wrap around the base of his cock. He pulls back enough to see the way his cum drips from your cunt. His tip nudges your clit before slowly sliding through your folds, collecting his seed to stuff back into your pussy with a hard thrust. You exhale a high-pitched moan, your chest pressing down against the mattress and fingers curling to grip onto the sheets. Your pussy missed the full, stretched feeling of him in the short time of absence, gummy walls eagerly welcoming him back in with a warm grip.

His thrusts start slow and deep, tip nudging your cervix before he pulls out to push back in again. You feel his lips along your spine, pressing a trail of reverent kisses up your shoulder. His bare chest presses against your back, breath fanning over your ear, hand sliding to softly wrap around your throat in a possessive motion. His speed picks up and hips shift to angle his cock, hitting an undiscovered spot along your walls that makes you gasp and cry out, an intense pleasure blooming and radiating throughout your core.

“Oh god, yes!” A choked moan rises from your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails scratching against the cotton sheets.

“Yeah… Not so smug now are ye?” He taunts through heavy breaths, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Fuck, this pussy was made for my cock.”

Goosebumps spread all over your skin with his words, everything about him taking over your senses and making your head swim. His teasing yet praising words, his skin against yours, his southern twang mixing with an Irish brogue, his long thick cock plunging into your throbbing walls relentlessly.

One claw remains wrapped around your throat as Remmick leans back to get a better view of you. He moans at the sight of your ass jiggling and bouncing off his hips, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your wet folds. His eyes zero in on your puckered hole presented so eagerly to him. He bites his bottom lip as a grin spreads across them, sliding his free hand down your back until it rests on the jiggling flesh of your ass. His pad of his thumb brushes over the puckered, unused hole before pressing against it firmly, rubbing circles into it.

“Remmick!” The action earns a gasp and wrecked whimper from your lips, your pussy gripping him tight. You have a white knuckle grip on the sheets below you, the foreign sensations and newfound pleasures are almost too much to bear. 

Remmick groans at the feeling of you gripping him even tighter before letting out a low, amused chuckle. “Oh, you like that, don’t chu? Filthy girl.” He chastises teasingly, continuing to thrust against the spongy spot in your walls and prod your tight little asshole. 

“Oh fuck, yes! Yes!” A string of unrestrained and desperate cries of pleasure fall from your parted lips, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. A symphony of filthy sounds fill the bedroom and your ears; your combined moans, the headboard repeatedly hitting the wall, the wet slapping of your flesh.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, baby? Give it to me.” Remmick demands, after already making you cum on his tongue he needs to feel you unravel on his cock like his lungs need air. 

The building pressure in your core erupts into an intense wave of pure ecstasy, hitting you like a freight train. A choked scream rises from your throat and your body tenses, jerking and trembling as you ride out your climax. Remmick watches as your pussy gushes around him, walls squeezing him with a vice grip and juices squirting against the base of his cock, dripping down his balls and onto the sheets below. He moans at the sight and feeling of you coming undone, reaching new heights of pleasure because of him. He swears he’s never seen anything more erotic or beautiful in his life.

Remmick releases his hold on your throat, letting your head fall and slump against the mattress. His hand soothes up and down your back as the last waves of your orgasm begin to fizzle out, leaving your body limp and panting heavily. “Good girl.” He praises with a soft whisper, earning a faint whimper from you. He slowly pulls his drenched cock from your pussy, marveling at the mess you’ve made. 

Gently, he grabs your hip and rolls you onto your back to face him. Your eyes are closed, a small blissful smile on your lips, and your chest rises and falls with each attempt to catch your breath. He leans over you from between your thighs, kissing along your jawline before his lips meet yours. You sigh happily, kissing him back slow and deep. It’s not rushed and full of hunger like earlier. Though a hunger still remains, this kiss feels more affectionate and sensual. Your fingers thread into his messy hair as your tongues swirl lazily.

Remmick presses a deep kiss against your lips before he pulls back, just enough to let his eyes soak in your features. “You look so beautiful like this… all drunk on my cock.”

Your soft giggle turns into a breathy sigh as his lips return to your skin, kissing along the other side of your jaw and down to your neck. He can feel the blood coursing through your veins, the pulsing of your heartbeat against his lips.

“But I ain’t done with ya yet.” His voice grows deeper, rumbling against your throat. His still hard and throbbing cock slides through your soaking folds, making your hips jerk slightly and reigniting the fire of desire in your core. “Think you can give me one more? Just one more, baby.”

You whimper softly in response. You know he’s not really asking, he’s telling you. Even if you don’t think you can, you don’t doubt he has the power to pull another earth-shattering orgasm from your cunt. He’s already done what no other man could, giving you more intense orgasms than you’ve even been able to give yourself. But he needs to hear you say it, needs to hear how wrecked he’s already made you and the desperation for more in your voice.

“Okay.” You nod weakly, gulping as you feel his tongue and teeth pressing against your neck. Your voice is soft and breathy, strained from the sounds he’s already pulled from you. “Yes. Please.” 

Remmick groans in approval, inhaling your scent and the ever so tempting allure of your blood with a shudder. His dick slides through your combined juices once more, soaking up your little gasps as he rubs against your bundle of nerves. He notches the tip at your entrance before sinking himself to the hilt with a deep groan. The way your body responds to him, opens up and welcomes him so eagerly, wraps around him so snuggly, he’s not sure he ever wants to leave the bliss of your touch.

“So good for me…” He purrs against your ear, thrusting with long and deep strokes. Your hands travel to his back, gripping onto the sweat slick skin as your walls flutter and tingle around him. Thick thighs wrapped around his hips, you hook your ankles together over his ass, encouraging him to go as deep as he can. You know you’ll always crave this, that you’ll never get enough of him stretching your walls to the brink, of fucking you so deep and hard you swear you can feel him in your guts.

“This pussy belongs to me.” Remmick rasps as he picks up the pace, pistoning into you harder and faster. “All mine.” His breath tickles your ear, his possessive words making your cunt squeeze around him in agreement.

“All yours.” You echo his sentiment with a moan, stating what you both already know to be true.

Your words align with what your body has already told him, spurring on his desire to feel you unravel beneath him once more. 

“Forever.”

A claw gently scratches down your chest and stomach to where your bodies are joined. The wet squelch of your cunt taking him over and over again is a filthy sound, making his cock throb inside you. The rough pad of his thumb finds your clit as his palm presses down on the fat of your mons, forcing his shaft to rub against your g spot with every stroke.

“Ohhh, fuck! Remmick!” You let out a shuddering cry at the feeling, your walls clenching around him from the added stimulation. The sensations are overwhelming, almost cruel, and he grunts at the feeling of your nails digging into his back. He wants your marks on his skin, just as his will soon decorate yours.

“Goddamn… ‘m gonna breed this perfect little pussy. Yer gonna be leakin’ me for days.” He can already feel you teetering on the edge, the pressure in his heavy balls rising as they smack against your ass. “Would you like that, baby? Tell me.” He demands breathlessly as he free hand grips onto the sheets by your head, claws digging in and starting to tear the fabric.

“Fuck, yes! Please. Please. I need it!” You beg through whimpers and cries of pleasure as you feel yourself beginning to lose your grip, his thumb circling your clit and cock abusing your spongy spot sends you barreling toward the edge of bliss.

Remmick feels the telltale signs of your climax approaching, your body beginning to tense and tremble, the grip of your hands and legs tightening around him. Just as a strained sob leaves your throat and your juices begin to flood his cock, he growls. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he bares his sharp, jagged teeth and sinks them into the tender flesh of your neck. A guttural moan rumbles in his chest as your warm, coppery blood fills his mouth. His eyes roll back at the taste, at his full consumption of you. He doesn’t bite with the intent to kill and turn you, not yet, he just needs a taste. For now.

Your back arches off the bed as his teeth sink into you, making your orgasm crash over you like a tidal wave. A choked scream is ripped from your throat, but it’s not a scream of fear or pain, but of ecstasy as the feeling of his teeth and mouth sucking your blood mingles with pure, unbridled ecstasy. Your nails scratch down his back, leaving red lines along his pale skin.

He stills his thrusts, holding his dick as deep inside you as he can go. Your cunt clamps down and spasms wildly around his shaft, gripping almost painfully and milking him for more of his seed to fill and seep into your womb. A deep moan of absolute rapture leaves your lips as you feel the warmth of his cum explode inside you. Your vision blurs and is overtaken with stars as a dull ringing fills your ears, drowning out the sounds around you.

You’re so out of it and lost in the throes of pleasure that you don’t register when his teeth leave your neck, tongue gliding over and soothing your new wound, licking up the last drops of blood.

“We were meant to find each other, darlin’.” He groans reverently against your neck, panting heavily as the last waves of his climax pass through his body and throbbing cock. The feeling of his lips peppering your skin with kisses begins to pull you from the haze in your swimming head. Your heart pounds against your chest and your tired eyes flutter open to peer at him.

Remmick presses a soft but passionate kiss to your lips, the taste of your blood seeping onto your tongue. He’s unable to remember the last time he’s felt this content, this right. The weight and pain of his own past and loneliness no longer weighs so heavily on his shoulders. 

When your lips part, he sighs deeply as his eyes memorize every feature of your face, fingers brushing away the sweat slick strands of hair clinging to your skin.

“I’m not gonna change you just yet. No…” He mutters more to himself than to you, in your fucked out state. Your brows furrow slightly in confusion just as a small smirk tugs at the side of his lips. “Wanna see if my seed takes root first, then we can have ourselves a real family.”

[cod-bin]

okay babe i saw you were wanting requests and so here’s my shot! pls pls pls ignore it if this makes you uncomfy in any way tho

but hear me out: simon and/or johnny who’s incredibly sensitive during sex. like 5 minutes in at most and she writing away, moaning out “oh no’s” and “i cants” the second it’s more than her clit being rubbed or being fingered, instinctively backing away even though she does want it

basically just squirmy crybaby reader being manhandled

a/n: yesss girl I love this so much! I also went kinda crazy so enjoy lol. also off anon ily. I wrote this with simon cuz I think im better at writing with him because im practically in love with him ☺️

cw: smut, 18+ MDNI sub!reader/dom!simon, crybaby!reader

wc: 2.1k (😳 i did not realize it was this long)

You always come undone too fast.

It’s almost embarrassing, the way your body betrays you the second he even looks at you like that—hooded eyes, half-lidded and hungry, his voice sinking an octave as he murmurs your name like it’s already a promise. And now, on your back, flushed and slick with sweat and tears you don’t even remember starting to cry, you’re not even five minutes in and already—

You’re shaking.

“You’re doin’ it again,” Simon mutters, half against your skin. “Tryin’ to run from me.”

His voice is rough. Gentle, but undeniably teasing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and he does. He always does. He’s got you pinned, one large palm firm at your hip to keep you in place while the other slips between your legs again, fingers already glistening from the mess he made of you earlier. His touch is lazy, unhurried, but too much all the same. You feel his fingertips drag up and down through your folds like he’s exploring, like he hasn’t memorized you by now.

Your breath catches. Your hips jump involuntarily, thighs trying to snap shut.

“Don’t—” you gasp, not knowing if you mean don’t stop or don’t touch. You want both. Neither. Everything.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mock concern draped in a low groan. “You’re already wrigglin’. Barely touched you and you’re soaked.”

He leans in, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, chest to chest as he nudges his nose against yours. “Still want me to stop?”

You shake your head instantly—panicked, breathless. “No, no—I want you, I do, I just—”

His fingers press into you, slow and deep.

You let out a broken little cry and arch helplessly, the world narrowing to the stretch of his knuckles, the way his hand fills you like it was made for it. Your nails claw into the sheets, or maybe his back—you can’t tell—your whole body trembling like a live wire.

Simon hums low in his throat. “There she is.”

You sob.

Not loud or dramatic—just one of those stuttering, overwhelmed little hiccups that slips out before you can hide it. Your legs twitch against the mattress. The heat in your belly is sharp, unbearable, cresting too fast. You squirm beneath him, trying to ease the pressure even though you don’t want him to stop.

“Simon—oh God—oh no, no, I can’t—” you cry, the words tumbling out between your choked little gasps. “It’s—it’s too much, I can’t—”

But you’re still clenching around his fingers like you’re begging for more.

“You always say that,” he whispers, a little cruel, a lot fond.

His other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheekbone where the tears have started to streak. You don’t even know when you started crying. It just happens—whenever he’s like this. Focused. Gentle but relentless. Worshipping your body even as he breaks it down.

“Every time I touch you, you start cryin’,” he says, and there’s something like awe in his voice, like it actually wrecks him. “Like your body doesn’t even know how to take it.”

You try to nod, try to answer, but he crooks his fingers just right and you go liquid, back arching with another desperate sob.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight, Christ.”

His cock is hard and heavy against your hip. You feel it, even now, even through the haze, and the thought of him inside you—not just his fingers but all of him—makes your breath stutter.

“I want you,” you whimper. “I do, I want it, just—just not yet, please, I can’t yet—”

Simon shushes you immediately.

“Hey, hey, I know,” he breathes, brushing your hair back from your damp face. “We’re not rushin’ anything, alright? You just breathe for me.”

But he doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t retreat.

His fingers stay buried inside, moving in slow, controlled strokes, just enough to make your thighs tremble. His thumb finally brushes over your clit—just once—and your hips jerk again, a high-pitched ohfuck slipping from your lips.

Your legs instinctively try to close, to protect the overwhelming heat building between them, but he catches one with a hand under the knee and spreads you again, slow but unyielding.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmurs. “Let me see.”

“Simon—” you whine, nearly delirious.

He just looks at you then. Really looks. Like you’re something holy. Something broken open just for him.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he says. “All flushed and tearin’ up. Can’t even think straight, can you?”

You shake your head helplessly, lip wobbling.

He kisses you, finally, catching your bottom lip with his and biting it just enough to make you whimper. The kiss is messy. Deep. You’re still crying a little, but he swallows every sound you make like it’s something precious.

“Fuckin’ love it when you get like this,” he growls against your mouth. “You act like you’re shy, like you can’t take it—but your cunt tells me otherwise.”

“Simon—!”

You sob his name again, your whole body locked up with the incoming wave that’s barreling toward you. His fingers don’t stop. He keeps fucking you through it—slow, rhythmic, endless—and you’re nearly incoherent now, little gasps and whimpers spilling out with every breath.

And then you snap.

It hits all at once. Your back arches, your thighs quake, and you’re crying out so loudly you don’t even recognize your own voice. Your body writhes beneath him, trying to pull away even as your cunt clamps down like a vice.

“Thaaaat’s it,” Simon growls, pressing his mouth to your temple. “Cry it out, baby. That’s my girl.”

You’re still sobbing, still twitching through it, the aftershocks rattling your bones.

You don’t even realize he’s pulled his fingers out until you feel his hands slide up your body, anchoring your hips, holding you like you’re breakable and precious and his.

“You alright?” he murmurs, voice rough. “You with me?”

You nod, barely.

He kisses you again, slower this time. Mouth soft. Gentle.

And when you whisper, still shaking, “I still want you,” he presses his forehead to yours and groans like it’s killing him not to take you apart all over again.

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he promises. “Nice and slow. Gonna take care of you, baby. You just cry for me as much as you need.”

☆taglist☆

@h0lydrag0ns @little-mini-me-world @just-lost-inbetween-worlds

[orangeblossomsintheair]

A LESSON ON HUNGER | SIMON RILEY

summary : You were small. He would give you grief about it until the end of time. End of story. Well end of story till the two of you started fucking in the dead of night.

wc : 5k of pure filth

an : if yall see @keen-eyed-creature suddenly in ur likes, that's me 😔

Simon knew you were small.

Hard to miss, really, when you had to tilt your head back just to look him in the eye. He was the first to admit that it was a bit of a laugh sometimes.

But it was never something he really thought much about, not in any serious way at least.

It was a detail, like the way you tied your boots or the way your hair stuck out from under your cap. It wasn’t like being short affected your ability to pull the trigger or call in air support.

You got the job done. That was what he cared about. You could be a foot shorter and it wouldn’t make a damn difference.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

Every now and then, he would drop a jab, something about needing a step ladder to talk to him, or how he has to stoop down like he's dealing with a kid. He had a knack for teasing, and you were an easy target.

It was harmless, though.

Just some friendly fire. You took it well, knew that it was all part of the routine. Gallows humor. Good for morale, or whatever the hell Price said. Kept things light, even if it was at your expense.

You were small. He would give you grief about it until the end of time. End of story.

Well end of story till the two of you started fucking.

He first noticed it when your hand wrapped around his cock, the tips of your fingers barely brushing each other. His breath hitched, and his cock pulsed in your grip, thick and heavy in your tiny hold.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, mesmerized by the sight. “Look at you.”

Your eyes darted up to his face, wide and innocent, as if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him. His chest heaved, the tight control he usually prided himself on slipping with every stroke of your hand.

"Fuckin' tiny," he muttered again, half to himself, watching the way your hand moved over him, struggling to take him all in. He hadn’t thought he’d ever care about something like that, never thought the size difference would drive him this insane, but here you were, bringing him to the brink without even realizing it.

You started slow, pressing soft, wet kisses along the length of his cock like a damn kitten, rubbing it against our cheek and spreading his pre-cum across your face.

When your lips parted, dipped your head, the first touch of your tongue against his tip had him groaning. Hot, wet, and so fucking soft.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, one gloved hand moving to the back of your head, the other braced against his thigh. He resisted the urge clawing at his chest that told him to shove himself deeper, to push till your throat bulged with the shape of him.

The first swipe of your tongue had him groaning, body tensing. Knuckles white, muscles straining as his hips jerked forward

You dragged your tongue slowly along the underside of his cock, the soft, wet muscle flicking over him. It swirled around the head before dipping into the slit, teasing, before tracing every vein on the underside.

Spit began to gather, dripping down his length as you worked him over, your desperation pushing you to keep going, keep pleasing him. Your doe eyes locked on his, wide and pleading, as you swallowed him as deep as you could.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he rasped, his voice gravelly. “Mouth all full, dripping down your chin. Bet you’d let me fuck your throat, wouldn’t you?”

You moaned around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath. He couldn’t look away. The way your lips stretched around him, your cheeks hollowing as you tried to take more of him—Ghost knew he was a ruined man.

When the blunt head of his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged softly, pausing there, and he felt the tension in your body. His hand moved to cradle your jaw, fingers curling around it.

“Relax,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t fight it. Doing so fuckin’ good for me.”

You blinked up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks, and he felt his cock throb at the sight.

“Let me fuck your mouth,” he said, voice low.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Look at me,” he barked, tone sharpening. “Need to see you mean it.”

Your eyes opened again, glassy and wide, pupils blown. You nodded again, and he let out a dark chuckle.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Obedient when you’ve got a cock in your mouth, huh?”

The glare you shot him would’ve been more convincing if your jaw wasn’t slack, the weight of him resting heavy on your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His hand sliding to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “Now, open up. Gonna make you take all of me.”

You obeyed, jaw slackening, and Ghost wasted no time. His hips rolled forward, the thick length of him pressing deep into your throat, stretching, filling.

His breath hitched as he slid deeper, the tightness of your throat trying desperately to accommodate him. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. A sick part of him thrilled at the way you fought to take him all the way, despite the fact that he really was too fucking big for you to handle.

He watched you for a moment, eyes fluttering as your lips met his base, tears slipping down your cheeks as you struggled to keep your breathing steady, swallowing around him.

“Shit,” he hissed, his other hand moving to cup your jaw, holding you steady. “Feel that? Feel how good you are, huh? You’re a fuckin’ mess, love. Spit everywhere, tears down your face. Fuck’s sakes, you’re perfect.”

Ghost growled under his breath, feeling you pulse around him. “..Takin’ me so well, little thing.”

He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you, forcing his cock deeper. The sounds—wet, obscene—drove him insane. You were taking all of him, your mouth and throat the perfect fit, even though it was clear you were struggling.

“Fuck, you feel so good... Perfect,” he groaned. "You're so fucking beautiful, letting me fuck your throat like this." He slammed into you again, deeper, and watched your face contort in that beautiful, desperate way, knowing you’d take every inch of him, no matter how overwhelming it was

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his pants as you braced yourself, letting him take control. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with practiced precision.

“Gonna fuck your throat ‘til you can’t think straight,” he growled, his voice dark and heavy with lust. “Gonna make you choke on it, make you feel how deep I can go.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his cock. His head tipped back briefly, a deep groan rumbling in his chest before he forced himself to look at you again.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “Wanna see you when I come. Wanna see that pretty little face all wrecked for me.”

You obeyed, your gaze locking with his, and the intensity in your eyes nearly undid him. He could feel the heat building low in his belly, the tension coiling tighter with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he drove deeper one last time. “Gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t spill a fucking drop.”

And when he came, spilling hot and thick down your throat, the way you swallowed around him had him swearing again, his grip on you tightening as he rode out his release. “F-fuck- damn it, damn it-“

When he finally pulled back, his cock slipping from your swollen, spit-slick lips, he couldn’t help the crooked grin that stretched his lips at the sight of you. Messy, tear-streaked, and utterly ruined.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your chin to catch the stray drips. “Knew you could take it.”

The praise lingered in the warm air as he leaned back, watching you catch your breath. His thumb lingered at your jaw for a moment before retreating, replaced by a hand gently coaxing you to your feet.

“C’mere,” he said, tone still rough around the edges, but laced with something terrifyingly tender.

He pulled you up until you were straddling his lap, broad hands settling on your waist. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric still clinging to your skin.

“Alright?” he asked, pale eyes scanning your face.

You nodded. “Better than okay.”

He shifted beneath you, guiding you closer. “Think you’ve got one more in you, sweetheart?” He spoke against your lips, eyes searching.

You swallowed, the anticipation curling low in your stomach. “I can take it,” you whispered.

The grin that spread across his face was something wicked. “That’s my girl.

With your confirmation, Ghost moved, lowering himself between your trembling thighs. He shouldered your legs apart, spreading you wide as he settled in like a man on a mission.

“G-Ghost,” you whimpered, instinctively reaching for his head as the heat of his breath teased over your cunt.

“Shh.” He looked up. “Let me return the favor, yeah?”

The first swipe of his tongue had you arching off the bed, a startled cry ripping from your throat. He groaned against you, eyes rolling back. Always tasted so good. He could cream his fucking pants just licking your pretty pussy.

You squirmed beneath him, thighs trembling as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit, a thumb spreading you open as he pressed the flat of his tongue against the bud.

As you squirmed in place, Ghost’s hands flexed, refusing to let you wriggle away for a moment of reprieve.

“Stay still,” he growled, voice muffled against your clit. “Let me enjoy this.”

His mouth worked you open slowly, licking and sucking at your clit with just enough pressure to have whimpers tumbling out of your lips.

He moved downwards, dipping his tongue into your heat before thrusting it inside, fucking you with it in deep, deliberate strokes.

The slick muscle pistoned into you like it was a cock, curling and stroking every inch of your walls, nose brushing against your clit with every movement.

Your thighs trembled around his head, but his strong hands kept them spread wide, holding you open for him.

“Ghost,” you sobbed, your hands fisting in his hair.

“Keep those legs open,” he ordered, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pushed them wider.

Your hips bucked against him instinctively, but he pinned you down as he worked his tongue deeper, faster. “Look at you,” he rasped, pulling back briefly to catch his breath, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Fuckin’ soaked for me. S’small and tight.”

You sobbed out as he latched onto your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. The sharp jolt of pleasure made you cry out, back arching off the bed.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his voice rough and needy as he returned to thrusting his tongue inside you. He fucked you with his mouth like a man possessed, his hands roaming over your thighs, your hips, everywhere he could reach,

When he latched onto your clit and sucked gently, you shattered. Your cry echoed in the room, your body arching as the orgasm ripped through you, shaking and gasping for air.

“There it is,” he murmured, every line in his body thick with satisfaction as he lapped up every bit of your release.

But he didn’t stop.

He growled against you, hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips higher, giving him better access as his tongue delved deeper, dragging out your orgasm until you were sobbing beneath him.

“Too much,” you whimpered, body twitching with the aftershocks.

“Not for me.” Ghost pulled back to look at you. His pale eyes were filled with hunger and pride as he took in the sight of you. Tear-streaked, trembling, and utterly ruined.

“P-please,” you whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes as the overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave.

“Not done with you yet, love.” His tongue returned to your clit, circling the swollen bud with ruthless precision until you were sobbing beneath him, your hands weakly pushing at his shoulders.

“Ghost-”

Another climax built impossibly fast, and before you could protest, it crashed over you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your hands clutching at his shoulders, his hair, anything to ground yourself as he lapped at your release like a dog.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening and his chin slick with your release, he looked at you like you were a feast he hadn’t quite finished.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he was moving again, his strong hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself above you. The sheer size of him looming over you sent a thrill down your spine.

“Think you’re ready for me now, yeah?”

Ghost pressed you down against the mattress. Your thighs trembled as he pressed them further apart.

The sheer size of him left you gasping before he even moved, the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance as he teased you.

“Relax,” he muttered, voice laced with a hunger that made your head spin. “Need you to open up for me.”

You whined, the sound barely coherent as he held you in place with a grip that bordered on bruising. He pushed forward, just enough to let the blunt tip breach you, and the stretch had you clutching at his forearms in desperation.

Your walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. “So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ..”

“H-hah.. too- too big-” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as if to anchor yourself.

“Y’can take it.” His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he bullied his way inside your pretty cunt.

His jaw tightened, burying himself deeper, head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna take it.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as he pressed further in, splitting you open inch by inch. The burn was sharp but his hands kept you pinned, leaving no room for escape.

“Stop squirmin’,” he ordered. His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, his shadow covering yours entirely. “You’re only making it harder for yourself.”

Your sobs broke free as he surged forward, his cock sinking deeper into your heat. “I c-can’t,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clung to him.

“You can,” he insisted, his tone softening but his pace unrelenting. His lips brushed against your temple, a stark contrast to the overwhelming force of him inside you. “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

You tried to focus on his voice, the rasp of it grounding you even as your body felt like it was being torn apart. His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, before his hand drifted down to cradle your throat.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Taking me so well, yeah? D’you feel how tight you are, hm? How perfect you’re gripping me?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you, and you whimpered as your body finally began to yield, the burn giving way to an ache that bordered on pleasure.

“That’s it.” Ghost’s lips curved into a grin as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “Knew you could do it. Knew this perfect little cunt could take all of me.”

Your sobs turned to broken moans as he pulled back, only to thrust forward again, burying himself to the hilt. The force of it knocked the air from your lungs, and your hands scrambled for purchase, gripping at anything to ground yourself.

“Feel that?” he rasped, his thrusts slowing down as he grinded against you. “Feel how deep I am?”

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat as the pleasure began to build, overwhelming in its intensity.

“Good girl,” he praised.

The pressure inside you coiled tighter as he picked up the pace, the sobs spilling from your lips mingling with broken cries of his name.

You were a mess. Tear-streaked, trembling, utterly consumed by the sheer size and force of him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he groaned, quickening as he pressed you further into the mattress. “Ruined, cryin’ for me. Takin’ everythin’ I give you.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and when you came, it was with a shattering cry that left you trembling in his arms. But he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. Oh no, Ghost dragged you through the aftershocks and straight into the next wave of pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you sobbed, your nails raking down his back as he growled against your neck. “Please, Ghost- don’t stop-”

“‘M not going anywhere,” he promised, pulling out of you slowly and you felt an unbearable emptiness that followed his absence. Gasping at the way your walls clenched around nothing, already missing the stretch of him.

Before you could voice your complaints, his hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he shifted onto his back.

“C’mere,” he ordered, his voice rough with need, guiding you to straddle his hips. The sight of him, broad chest heaving, his cock glistening and impossibly thick, standing proudly between you, made your stomach flutter with equal parts apprehension and arousal.

“Ghost, I-“ you started, but his hands ground you in place as he pressed his forehead against your trembling body.

“Be good,” he murmured, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. “Take what you need. I’ll make it fit.”

Your breath hitched, and with his steadying hands guiding you, you reached down, positioning the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

The pressure was instant, overwhelming, as you sank down the smallest fraction.

“Bloody fuck,” he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. “Look at you. So tight, so perfect-” His words cut off in a guttural groan when you shifted your weight, trying to take him deeper.

The stretch burned, his girth spearing you open inch by inch, and you couldn’t help the broken sob that fell from your lips. “S’too- too much,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you hovered above him, the sheer size of him making your head spin.

“Shhh,” he cooed, though his own voice was strained, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep still beneath you. “Doin’ s’good, sweetheart. Just take your time. Lemme fill you up.”

You nodded shakily, nails digging into his chest as you slowly lowered yourself further, feeling every ridge and vein of him stretching you impossibly wide.

He felt endless, and the way he groaned only heightened the unbearable pleasure-pain of being split open by him.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, urging you to take him all. “Don’t stop now. You’re almost there. Gonna take every inch, yeah?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you finally sank down to the hilt, his cock buried so deep inside you that it felt like he was in your very core.

You let out a choked sob, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with awe and something darker. His gaze burned into you, watching as you struggled to adjust to his size. “So fucking tight, squeezing me like you don’ wanna let go.”

You couldn’t form words, your mind hazy and overwhelmed as he filled you completely, stretching you to your limits. He let you sit there for a moment, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your thighs as you trembled above him.

“Move,” he commanded softly, voice coaxing but firm. “Show me how good you feel, baby. Ride me.”

You whimpered, your hands splaying across his chest for balance as you lifted yourself slightly, only to sink back down again. The friction was devastating, and the stretch still burned, but the heat building in your core had you panting for more.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin as he met you halfway with a shallow thrust that left you crying out. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Each rise and fall of your hips had him spearing you open all over again, the sheer size of him filling you in a way that made you feel utterly wrecked, utterly his. Your sobs mixed with moans as the pleasure overwhelmed you, Ghost taking over to guide your movements with a possessive grip.

“Made for this,” he growled, his voice raw as his gaze locked on the place where your bodies joined, watching as his cock disappeared inside you with every thrust. “Made for me to fuck you like this. Look at how you’re taking me- so greedy, so fucking pretty.”

The sound of your sobs only seemed to spur him on, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a force that left you breathless.

“Ghost,” you whimpered, your nails raking down his chest as your thighs burned from the effort, your body trembling from the relentless pace.

“Don’t stop,” he growled, his voice a low, possessive snarl. “You’re not stopping until I feel you come around me. Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze me, got it?”

You nodded, unable to do anything but obey as his hands gripped your waist firmly, slamming you down on his cock with a force that had you keening.

The stretch was unbearable, your body trembling from the sheer effort of taking him. The swollen ache between your thighs was overwhelming, but the pleasure sparking through you burned brighter.

“Good girl..” He guided you to ride him faster, deeper.

Your head fell back, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body clenched around him. The first climax tore through you like a lightning strike, sudden and all-consuming, leaving you shuddering and gasping for air.

“Fuck, there it is,” he rasped, thrusting up into you, dragging the aftershocks out longer. “That’s my girl..so fucking perfect when you come for me.”

You barely had time to recover before his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb pressing down hard on your swollen clit.

Your scream echoed in the room, your hands scrambling against his chest as the sharp jolt of overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave.

“N-no!” you sobbed, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his hands held you down, refusing to let you escape.

“Don’t think so.” His thumb circled your sensitive bud in maddening, unrelenting strokes. “You’re not running from me. You’re gonna take it, all of it. Gon’ make you come over and over until you can’t think straight.”

Your body jerked uncontrollably, every nerve alight as his cock drove into you, his thumb working your clit. The relentless friction sent you tumbling headfirst into another orgasm, this one sharper, rawer.

You screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shook in his hold, but he didn’t stop.

“That’s two,” he growled, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he watched you fall apart. “Think you’ve got another one in you, sweetheart?”

“I c-can’t,” you sobbed, tears spilling freely as your body quivered against him. “It’s too much, I c-can’t-”

“You can,” he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding as his hips snapped up again, driving his cock deeper.

His thumb pressed harder against your bud. Your thighs trembled violently, every nerve in your body raw and exposed as he pushed you toward another peak.

“You’re so sensitive,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction as his thumb slowed just enough to keep you on the edge. “So swollen, so perfect..”

“Ghost-!” you sobbed, voice breaking as another climax slammed into you, your walls clenching around him like a vice. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from chasing it, your hips grinding against him despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his free hand gripping your ass as he guided your movements, keeping you firmly in place. “Keep going, love. Don’t stop until I say so.”

Your body was beyond exhausted, trembling violently as his relentless pace and the constant attention on your clit drove you into the kind of pleasure that felt like madness. Every stroke of his cock, every circle of his thumb sent shockwaves through you, leaving you an incoherent mess.

“Ngh..” you whimpered, your voice breaking as your head fell forward, your hands clutching desperately at his chest. “Can’t- please-“

“But you’re being such a good girl,” he murmured, softening slightly as his hand slid from your clit to grip your waist again. “You’re taking me so well..look at how swollen and perfect you are.”

His cock throbbed inside you, and as you slumped against his chest, he leaned up to press a kiss to your tear-streaked cheek, his voice a rough whisper in your ear.

“Think you’ve got one more?”

Your body trembled uncontrollably, tears streaking down your face as you shook your head weakly, barely able to form words. “N-no more.. please, Ghost… it’s too much,” you sobbed, breaking as you slumped against him, completely spent.

But he wasn’t having it.

“Thought you wanted to be good for me?”

Effortlessly, he lifted you off his still-throbbing cock, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, your thighs trembling as they struggled to hold your weight.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soothing as he shifted you, his large frame easily maneuvering you like you weighed nothing. “You’re not done yet, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Ghost, no-” you whimpered, trying to squirm away as he laid back fully, his broad shoulders pressing into the mattress.

But he didn’t give you a choice.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you forward until you were straddling his chest. The heat of his skin against yours made you shiver, your swollen, oversensitive core throbbing as he moved you higher.

“Be a good girl and sit,” he ordered, eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity that made your breath hitch.

You shook your head frantically, tears pooling in your eyes as you whimpered, “Ghost… I’m too sensitive, I-”

His grip on your thighs tightened, silencing your protests.

Before you could protest further, he pulled you up, positioning you directly over his face. The heat of his breath against your soaked, swollen folds made you cry out, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance as you tried to lift yourself away.

“Don’t run from me.” He forced you down, lowering you onto his waiting mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue against your overstimulated clit sent a sharp jolt through you, and you sobbed, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation threatened to pull you under. “Ghost, Ghost-“”

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive bud, his hands holding you firmly in place no matter how much you tried to squirm away.

“That’s it,” he whispered between long, torturous strokes. “Don’t you dare run from me. You’re gonna take everything.”

Your thighs shook violently on either side of his head, your body trembling as wave after wave of unbearable pleasure crashed over you.

You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as his tongue circled your clit mercilessly, his mouth devouring you like a man starved.

Ghost snarled, his grip tightening as he dragged you even closer, his tongue plunging deep inside you before returning to your swollen, throbbing bud. “You’re gonna come for me again, and you’re gonna let me taste every fucking bit of you.”

You couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from your throat as another climax ripped through you, your body convulsing violently as his mouth pushed you over the edge.

Your hands tangled in his hair, desperate and needy, as you sobbed his name, begging for mercy even as your hips ground against his face.

Finally, he slowed, his tongue gentle now as he lapped at you lazily, his hands sliding up and down your thighs in soothing strokes. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though the satisfaction in his tone was unmistakable. “That’s my pretty girl.”

Your body slumped forward, your chest heaving as tears streamed down your face. He let you collapse against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“I told you you could take it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he held you close.

[mssishipi]

TASTE OF INDULGENCE

CHAPTER 3 — WHY ARE YOU SO SALTY?

— This was supposed to be just sex—no feelings, no attachments. What happened in bed was meant to stay there. Jake and Jay were perfect together, an undeniably loving couple who had everything. From the very beginning, you were just a third, nothing more. So why does it feel like you’re the only one left out? Fuck, why are you salty?

content tags: fluff and fluff and angst, sunoo being annoyed at jayke for always stealing reader away from him, one kys joke, reader is falling in love, jayke being soft, don't expect romance in this chapter bcs it's angst, still they have fluff, some other people cameo (that you might be missing since chap 1).

warning: explicit content (smut), threesome (soft dom jake, soft dom jay, sub reader), but they kind of have solo moments, multiple sex position, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, cunnilingus, rimming, anal fingering, protected anal sex (fxm), attempt of double penetration, blowjob, ofc sum mxm scene. MDNI! WC:15.1K

want a taste?

notes: thank you for the 1k followers! i better not see any of you hating on my girl y/n.

So this is what it feels like.

The kind of thing your friends always gushed about—their whispers about how addicting it was, how they couldn't get enough. You never really got it. Until now. You didn't know exactly how long it had been going on. A month? Maybe more?

At some point, it became a routine, an unspoken agreement between the three of you. Sex, always sex. Even with classes, even with assignments piling up, there were moments where the three of you just couldn't help yourselves.

Your weekends are always ending up in their sheets. There were times when you swore you'd go a few days without it—focus, be responsible. But the second one of them (always Jake) pulled you close, hands roaming, lips brushing against your skin, you already knew how it would end.

Your schedules were never fully in sync. Different classes, different obligations. But somehow, you always found a way.

Because it was sex. And none of you could seem to stop.

"Shit, slow down!" Jay hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into your waist in a futile attempt to slow your relentless pace. But you didn't listen, the pleasure was too consuming, and all you could do was keep moving, keep chasing that euphoric high as you bounced on top of him.

Your moans spilled freely, the sound only making Jay groan beneath you. Behind you, Jake was grinning against your shoulder, completely entertained by the display in front of him. His hands were on your breasts, kneading them, rolling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, tell him, baby," he murmured.

You gasped, your hips faltering for a brief moment before sheer need pushed you forward again, rolling, grinding against Jay in slow, deliberate circles.

You could feel how much he was holding back—the way his fingers flexed against your skin, the restraint in his muscles as he tried to keep himself from flipping you over and taking control.

Jay's brows furrowed, his lips parted as he breathed heavily beneath you. You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his as you let the words tumble out with a needy tone. "M-my p-pussy is so empty, p-please fill it up," you whined.

Jake let out a low whistle beside you. "There it is," he mused, watching the way Jay's entire demeanor shifted. His muscles tensed, his fingers twitched against your skin, and his expression darkened in the most delicious way.

Jay growled, his grip tightening before suddenly yanking you down, forcing you to take him deeper, bottoming out inside you in one swift, punishing motion. You choked on a moan, your walls spasming around him at the sudden stretch.

Jake was right—Jay loved that kind of talk.

"T-there—hah, oh my God! Ahh!" You practically screamed, your hands clawing at Jay's arms as he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.

You barely had time to process before he was already moving again, pounding into you with a force that made your head spin.

The sheets twisted beneath you, your fingers gripping the fabric for some semblance of control, but it was useless. You were completely at their mercy, exactly where they wanted you.

Jake chuckled, watching the way your body jolted with every deep thrust before settling himself beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His mouth found your neck first, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your heated skin, trailing lower and lower until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking eagerly.

Your eyes rolled back, a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you.

For years, you had imagined something like this.

You'd seen it in porn, fantasized about the intensity of two mouths, two cocks, hands everywhere, pleasure heightened beyond what you thought possible. You used to ache with frustration, wondering if you'd ever experience what those girls did—the kind of overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure that left them ruined, wrecked, completely undone.

You'd sometimes cried, wondering if maybe there was something wrong with you, why no one else had ever made you feel this.

Now, you were drowning in it, every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing, and electrified with sensation. Years of frustration are now it all poured out of you, swallowed whole by them.

And God, you loved every second of it. It felt endless, like they were making up for every second of deprivation, stretching time itself just to ruin you over and over again.

Jay let out a ragged growl, his grip on your thighs tightening as his thrusts became deeper. "Shit, I'm fucking cumming."

Beside you, Jake pulled away from your nipple, his mouth swollen and glistening as he turned to Jay. Without hesitation, he grabbed the back of Jay's neck and kissed him.

You watched as their tongues slid together, swallowing each other's moans. The sight sent a fresh pulse of heat through you, a sharp ace blooming deep inside your core.

Your fingers twitched, then grasped at Jake's arm, a mindless, needy tug. Include me.

Jake felt it immediately, breaking the kiss just enough to glance at you, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Feeling left out, baby?"

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His teeth grazed your lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, making you shudder.

Jay's hands slid over your stomach, his palms warm as he moved up—brushing over your ribs, cupping your breasts, kneading them firmly. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

Jake pulled away just in time to see the way your body arched into Jay's touch, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

A sudden, sharp thrust pulled your focus back to Jay. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his dark, intense gaze. His grip on your breast tightened as he drove into you with slow, full strokes.

"Say it again," Jay growled. His thrusts grew sharper, rocking your body with every movement.

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands flying to his wrists, gripping them for balance. Your mind felt hazy, drunk on the pleasure flooding your senses.

Without thinking, your other hand drifted to Jake's cock, fingers wrapping around his length. He was so hard, twitching in your grasp. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as you stroked him, your fingers tightening, gliding in slow motions.

Jake exhaled a sharp breath, his head tilting back slightly. When he looked at you again, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips parted in a lazy, pleased smile. He guided your hand along his length, showing you exactly how he liked it.

"Come on, baby," Jake murmured, voice velvety. "Say it again, hmm?"

Your breath hitched. You hesitated for a moment, cheeks flushing, because you weren't usually the type to talk during sex. It wasn't something you were used to.

But with the way they were looking at you, waiting, and starving for it. You bit your lip, gaze flickering between them, before finally whispering:

"U-use me 'til you c-cum. F-fill me, please."

A deep groan tore from Jay's throat, while Jake hissed, his grip on your hand tightening as his cock twitched in your palm.

You were practically screaming at this point. Everything was too much, too good—you could hardly believe this was your life now, wrapped up between them, drowning in sensations you'd never thought you'd get to experience.

You could feel every inch of Jay stretching you, filling you so completely, his deep, steady thrusts hitting on your g-spot inside you over and over again.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum—oh, shit." Jay moaned, his head tilting back, his jaw clenching. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you still, feeling the way your walls squeezed around him, gripping him.

Jake pulled away from your hand while Jay straightened his back, adjusting his position, his grip shifting to your legs. Without warning, he pushed them further apart, spreading you wider, sinking even deeper inside you. A ragged cry ripped from your throat, your hands flying to his forearms.

You are catching your breath until you felt a warm breath ghosting over your swollen clit.

Your stomach tightened, and your entire body jerked when you felt the first slow, deliberate flick of his tongue against your clit. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling as he licked a long, slow stripe over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, your fingers fisting the sheets, your head tossing to the side.

Jake hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. "She's so sensitive," he murmured, lips brushing against your slick heat.

Jay exhaled harshly, his fingers flexing on your thighs as he fought for control. His cock twitched inside you, the added stimulation pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

"You're such a tease," Jay gritted out, his hips snapping forward, driving into you harder.

Jake just grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he flattened his tongue against your clit, sucking gently.

Your vision blurred, the world around you dissolving into nothing but pure, white-hot pleasure. Every muscle in your body locked up, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clamped down around Jay, squeezing him so tightly that his rhythm stuttered, his breath hitching in his throat.

The sudden, hot rush of his release spilling deep inside you, filling you up completely. Jay let out a ragged groan, his fingers bruising against your thighs as he slammed himself deep one last time, grinding into you as he rode out his high.

The pleasure had hit so fast, so hard, that your body collapsed under the weight of it. Your mind went blank, your limbs limp, but before you could fully sink into the overwhelming sensation, Jake was suddenly there—moving swiftly, his hands gripping your arms, steadying you. "Whoa, baby—breathe," he murmured, His lips brushed over your temple as Jay's hips gave one last, weak thrust, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

"Fuck," Jay exhaled, his grip finally loosening, hands sliding over your trembling thighs before he slumped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath is shaky as you tried to steady yourself, the aftershocks still lingering in your body. Your legs trembled, muscles twitching from the overwhelming sensation that still buzzed through you.

Suddenly, Jay's nose brushed against the curve of your neck as he nuzzled closer, his body relaxing against yours. The intimate gesture sent a soft, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. While Jake's fingers lacing with yours, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

"You're okay?" Jake's voice was softer than usual, his fingers traced idle patterns on your wrist.

You blinked up at him, your mind still sluggish. You felt too much all at once—the lingering warmth of their bodies pressed against yours, the way Jay's breath ghosted over your skin and the soft ache between your thighs. And there was something else that is more deeper and unsettling.

They always did these small, tender touches that shouldn't mean anything, yet somehow felt like they did.

Of course, you liked it, but in the back of your mind, it was too much, too good like a dream you'd eventually have to wake up from.

"Shower?" Jay offered, you blinked up at him before glancing at Jake, who was still hard. He caught your gaze, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your mouth.

"It's okay," he murmured against your lips. "I'm sure you're tired already."

Tired? That was an understatement. Still, you hesitated, looking between the two of them because the thought of just leaving him like that made your chest tight.

You swallowed, "I can still..."

Jake huffed out a soft laugh, cutting you off with another kiss, this one slower, more indulgent, and when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Not tonight, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm. "You'll be sore enough as it is."

He wasn't wrong. You could already feel the dull ache settling into your muscles.

Jay shifted beside you, sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You exhaled shakily, allowing Jay to pull you up. Jake stretched, letting out a low groan before reluctantly rolling off the bed.

As Jay led you toward the bathroom, you cast one last glance at Jake, watching as he lazily stroked himself, smirking as he caught you staring.

"Go on," he teased, "I'll take care of myself."

Jay scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom. Your body felt weightless in his arms as the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

The shower was already running, steam curling into the air. Instead of stepping directly under the spray, Jay lowered you into the bathtub, letting the warm water lap at your skin. The moment you sank into it, your body melted further, muscles loosening as the heat surrounded you.

You exhaled, head resting back against the tub's edge, eyes fluttering shut. The water rose higher, enveloping you completely, and for a moment, it felt like you could drift off right then and there.

Jake followed after not too long, he stepped into the tub behind you, his legs bracketing yours as he pulled you back against his chest.

Jay was still outside the tub, kneeling beside it. His hands dipped into the water, fingers skimming along your legs before reaching for the soap. The way he lathered it in his hands was deliberate, slow, before he started gliding his palms over your arms, your shoulders—so gentle, so careful.

Jake hummed against your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Relax," he murmured, his hands moving to rest on your waist beneath the water. "Just let us take care of you."

The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. This was new, too new. It wasn't just the sex, it was everything that came after. It was the quiet moments, it was the way they touched you, cared for you.

And you were just now realizing how dangerously comfortable you were becoming with it.

Without thinking, you shifted, turning into Jake's embrace. Your arms slid around his torso, pressing yourself against him, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jake stilled for a second, as if caught off guard. Then, slowly, he let out a soft exhale, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested against the top of your head, fingers tracing along your back beneath the water.

A quiet understanding passed between Jay and Jake as their eyes met over your shoulder. Jay's lips twitched into a soft smile before he reached forward, his palm smoothing over your back, working the tension from your muscles as he poured warm water down your spine.

The sensation made you hum in response, your body sinking further into Jake's hold, lulled by the quiet care surrounding you.

The three of you slipped into the lecture hall, noticeably late. You kept your head down, fingers fumbling to smooth your hair as you hurried toward your usual seat while Jay and Jake trailed behind you.

Sunoo huffed the moment you slid into the chair beside him. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he snatched up the things he'd left on the seat that is clearly meant to reserve it for you.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, shoving his notebook into his bag.

Before you could respond, Jake tugged at the hem of your uniform, leaning in. "Hey, there are three open seats at the back," he murmured, nodding toward the empty row.

You glanced between him and Sunoo, lips parting slightly in hesitation. Sunoo tsked, shifting in his chair dramatically as if to make a point.

You gave Jake a small, apologetic smile before turning back to face the front. He exhaled through his nose, but didn't push it. Jay, as usual, said nothing, simply sliding into the seat behind you.

The lecture dragged on, your mind only half-focused as you felt the occasional tap of Jake's pen against the back of your chair. When class finally ended, Sunoo wasted no time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the open field outside.

The two of you had spent too much time here during your vacant periods—lying on the grass, complaining about classes, escaping from whatever responsibilities you didn't feel like dealing with.

Sunoo sat down first with a grunt, motioning for you to join him. As soon as you did, he reached out, fixing the slightly crooked knot of your necktie with a pout.

"You're spending way too much time with them," he muttered. You opened your mouth to argue, but Sunoo was already pouting dramatically, arms crossed over his chest.

"Am I not your favorite gay best friend anymore?" he whined, tilting his head with exaggerated sadness.

A laugh bubbled from your lips despite yourself. "You're being ridiculous," you teased, nudging his leg with your knee.

"I'm being neglected," he insisted, flopping back onto the grass. "I'm being abandoned. Replaced."

"You are so dramatic."

Sunoo huffed, turning his head to squint at you. "Seriously, though. You've been with them nonstop lately. I get it, okay? They're hot and good at—" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "—stuff. But what about me? We used to be inseparable."

Your smile faltered slightly. You knew Sunoo wasn't actually mad, but there was something genuine beneath his usual theatrics.

"I know," you admitted, lowering your gaze. "It's just... different with them. I don't know how to explain it."

Sunoo propped himself up on his elbows. "Try me."

You hesitated because how could you put it into words?

Sunoo watched your expression carefully, then sighed. "Look, I just don't want you getting hurt. They're... well..." Sunoo stop what he was about to say, you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Sunoo softened. "I'm not saying stop. Just... don't lose yourself in it, okay?"

You swallowed, feeling an odd tightness in your chest. "I won't," you promised.

Sunoo stared at you for another second before sighing and sitting up fully. Then, with a sly grin, he poked your cheek. "Now, tell me the dirty details. Who's better?"

"Sunoo!"

"What? Best friends share everything!"

You told yourself it wasn't a big deal.

Whatever you were feeling—it was just because this was new, unfamiliar. You weren't used to it yet, that's all. It wasn't something deeper.

Just go with the flow.

Besides, Sunoo hugged you all the time, kissed your hair, looped his arm through yours without a second thought. Affection didn't have to mean anything complicated.

These past few days, you'd been keeping a little distance, limiting how much time you spent with them. Not because you didn't want to be around them, but because you didn't want to get used to this feeling.

And, you didn't want Sunoo to think you were replacing him. He was your best friend—your super best friend, as he liked to remind you. No one could ever take his place.

"Let's go! We're going to Burger King!" Sunoo declared, tugging your arm dramatically.

You barely had a second to react before Jake's arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. A startled squeal left your lips as your feet nearly lifted off the ground.

"She already said yes when I asked her for shawarma," Jake argued, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke.

You twisted between them, eyes flicking back and forth. Sunoo glared at Jake and Jake smirked at Sunoo.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes, gripping your arm tighter. "Shawarma? Seriously? That's so basic. She's getting a burger."

Jake scoffed, his arms still locked around your waist. "She literally loves shawarma. And, unlike you, I asked first."

"Oh, so now we're keeping track of who asks first?" Sunoo shot back, voice dripping with mockery. "That's cute, Jake. Real cute."

You groaned, twisting between them. "Guys—"

"Nope." Sunoo cut you off, yanking you toward him. "Burger."

Jake pulled you right back against his chest. "Shawarma."

Jay sighed, barely looking up from his phone as your body jerked between Jake and Sunoo's relentless tug-of-war.

"She's coming with us!" Jake huffed, tightening his grip on your waist.

Sunoo scoffed, yanking your arm in the opposite direction. "Excuse me?! I had her first!"

Jake let out a mocking gasp. "Oh, so now we're keeping track of who had her first?" He stuck his tongue out at Sunoo.

Sunoo placed a hand over his chest. "We are super best friends! Inseparable! Back in high school, everyone said we were like a total package. Where I go, she goes."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Dude, you sound like a clingy ex."

Sunoo gasped, absolutely scandalized. "I do not—"

Before he could finish, Jay suddenly reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you toward him.

"Enough," he muttered, slipping his phone into his pocket. He started walking, his fingers laced through yours to keep you from being stolen again.

"Wha—? Where are you taking her?!" Sunoo yelped.

Jay didn't even glance back. "Away from you two idiots."

Jake let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. "Damn. Kinda hot."

Sunoo scowled. "You would say that."

Meanwhile, your brain short-circuited as you stared down at Jay's hand in yours, warmth spreading from your fingertips all the way up to your face. Jake and Sunoo trailed after you, still bickering over who got to walk beside you, tugging at your sleeves and elbowing each other like children.

Jay let out a sharp exhale, clearly losing patience. Without a word, he shifted his grip, draping an arm firmly around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

Sunoo cross his arms and huffed dramatically. "This is favoritism."

Jay shot them both a deadpan look. "Shut up."

In the end, none of the arguing mattered. The four of you ended up crammed into a booth at a Chinese restaurant, chopsticks clinking against bowls as you all shared food between bites of conversation.

Sunoo still sulked. Jake kept stealing food from your plate. And Jay, despite his earlier scowl, just kept filling your bowl with more dumplings.

The weekend arrived, and Jay had texted, asking you to hang out. At the same time, Sunoo and Wonyoung had invited you to go figure skating.

Torn between the two, you decided to make the most of your day, texting Jay that you'd come by in the evening, not wanting to miss out on time with your friends.

By the time you stepped out of the taxi in front of Jay's apartment, your legs were sore and aching, exhaustion creeping into your muscles from hours on the ice. You barely had time to lift your hand to knock before the door swung open.

Jake stood there, his eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of you. His sweet smile stretched wide before he reached forward, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you inside.

"Finally," he breathed, his grip warm and firm as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

A giggle escaped your lips as he pressed a trail of playful, affectionate kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. Your stomach fluttered—there it was again, that strange, uncontrollable feeling. The way your heart pounded just a little too hard.

"Missed you, missed you," Jake whined softly, his cheek brushing against yours as he held you impossibly closer.

You laughed, shaking your head as your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against Jake's back. "We literally ate at the Chinese restaurant three days ago," you reminded him.

Jake only whined in response, rocking the both of you side to side like a sulking child. He lifted his head, lower lip jutted out in the most exaggerated pout, eyes big and pleading.

"Yeah, but Sunoo was there," he complained, brows furrowing. "I wanna spend more time with you—just me, you, and Jay."

His words sent a strange little jolt through you, warm curling in your stomach.

"You didn't even text that much today," he muttered, his pout deepening.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I was with Sunoo and Wonyoung, you know that."

Jake huffed dramatically. "Still. I need my daily dose of you."

His words sent another jolt through you, curling around your ribs like a slow-burning ember. You tried to play it off, focusing on how ridiculously cute he looked instead of the way your pulse picked up speed.

"You're such a baby," you teased, reaching up to pinch his cheeks between your fingers. His skin was warm under your touch, and when he scrunched his nose in response, it only made your heart pound harder.

"Am not," he grumbled, though he made no effort to pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch. His eyes flickered over your face, studying you for a second before his lips curled into a grin. "But if I were a baby, I'd be your favorite, right?"

Before you could answer, a voice cut through the moment. "You're blocking the door," Jay said flatly, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, watching the two of you.

Jake didn't let go immediately. Instead, he smirked and tightened his arms around you one last time, swaying you both dramatically before finally pulling back. "She's mine for the next hour," Jake announced proudly.

Jay rolled his eyes. "You literally saw her three days ago."

"And it felt like years," Jake shot back, dragging you toward the living room.

The movie flickered on the screen, but it had long since become nothing more than background noise. You and Jake were supposed to be watching it together—Jay had opted out, choosing to focus on his classwork instead, not wanting to procrastinate. But somewhere along the way, Jake's hand had found its way to your thigh, stroking absently as if he wasn't really thinking about it.

At first, it was innocent. Just a casual touch. But then his fingers started moving, kneading softly, tracing small circles against your skin, his fingertips creeping higher with each pass.

Your breath caught. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position, but your legs instinctively parted. You didn't even realize you were doing it until Jake let out a quiet chuckle.

"Look at that," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over your clothed heat. "Already opening up for me?"

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, body sinking into the couch as he teased you. The touch was light, barely there, but enough to set a slow burn deep in your stomach.

His fingers pressed down, rubbing slow, lazy circles through the fabric of your shorts. Your breath came out in a shaky exhale, hips lifting ever so slightly, chasing more friction.

"You're so warm," he mused, his voice dipping lower, more hushed. "And already so wet."

You nodded weakly, your thoughts scattering as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your bare skin. A quiet moan slipped past your lips.

"You know," you breathed between soft gasps, "I still can't believe I'm experiencing this."

Jake hummed, his lips trailing along the side of your neck. "Oh? And why's that?"

Your fingers twitched against the couch, gripping the fabric as he slid a finger between your folds. The touch was electric, sending pleasure zipping up your spine.

"I never really enjoyed sex before," you said, gasping when he pressed against your clit just right. "It's... shocking, I guess. That you and Jay just know exactly how to—fuck—please me."

Jake smirked, his lips curling against your skin. "Mmm, keep talking, baby," he whispered.

Your breath hitched as his fingers moved with deliberate skill, teasing and stroking in just the right way. Your thighs trembled, your body completely pliant under his touch.

"I-it's like—oh, shit, shit, right there, Jake—it's like my body just picked only the two of you."

Jake groaned, his fingers pressed deeper, circling with the perfect amount of pressure. He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Damn right it did," he murmured. "Your body will only listen to us."

Jake shifted his position, settling more comfortably between your legs. His free hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to your collarbone, baring your chest to the cool air.

You didn't wait, you unclasped your bra in a rush. Jake's lips curled into a smirk, his breath warm against your skin.

"You like it more when your left breast gets attention, don't you?" His voice was teasing, but he didn't wait for an answer.

The second his mouth latched onto your left mound, a whimper tore from your throat. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, lips closing around it as he sucked just hard enough to make your back arch off the couch.

"Hah—fuck, Jake," you moaned, your back arching off the couch as his fingers pumped deeper.

Jake chuckled against your flushed skin. "Jay was right," he murmured, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your wet nipple, making it pebble even harder. His fingers didn't slow between your legs, pressing deep, curling just right. "You always react more when we do this."

To prove his point, he dragged his teeth lightly over the stiff peak, making you jolt, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Then, his mouth closed around it again, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. His free hand found your other breast, rolling and pinching your neglected nipple between his fingers, the combination of sensations making your head spin.

Your body was melting under his touch, too sensitive. Every flick of his tongue, every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers inside you. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping at the soft strands, trying to anchor yourself as you rocked against his hand. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you mixed with the low hum of pleasure vibrating from his throat.

"Jake—Jake, I'm—" You barely managed to get the words out. You could feel it, that familiar, intoxicating build-up, your walls clenching tight around his fingers.

Jake groaned, feeling the way you squeezed him. "Oh, you love that, don't you?" he mused. "Knowing we talk about you? Knowing we know exactly what makes you fall apart?"

His words sent a new wave of arousal crashing through you. The idea of Jay and Jake discussing you like this, learning every single detail of your body, what you liked, what drove you insane—it made your core throb even harder.

Jake pulled back to look at you, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with lust. He didn't stop, fingers pressing deeper, fucking into you at a steady, teasing pace. "Bet you'd love to hear what else we say about you, huh?" he murmured, grinning as he watched your breath hitch.

Jake pushed himself up, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"We would love to fuck that ass."

A raw moan spilling from your lips, your grip on his hair tightened as your body tensed. A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, pleasure snapping so fast and sharp that your hips bucked against his hand, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashed over you.

"Oh my God, Jake!" you gasped, clenching hard around his fingers, your body twitching, desperate to hold onto the overwhelming pleasure for just a little longer.

Jake groaned, his free hand smoothing over your thigh, gripping it possessively as he worked you through your high. "Woah, that's it." he murmured. "Came so fast just from that, huh? You love the idea, don't you?"

You swallowed, still catching your breath, your body limp against the couch. Jake pulled his fingers from you slowly, watching the way your slick coated them, shining in the dim light.

He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction. "Fuck," he sighed, grinning as he met your dazed, fucked-out gaze.

"Y-You're going to f-fuck my butt?"

Jake's grin widened, his cock twitching inside his pajama pants at how wrecked you sounded. Instead of answering right away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your lips.

"Only if you want to," he murmured.

You didn't even hesitate, eyes wide and desperate when you looked at him. "I want to."

Jake inhaled sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening for a second before he let out a low chuckle. "Fuck, yeah."

His cock throbbed at just the thought, but he forced himself to pull back, exhaling through his nose to keep control.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up first." Jake scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom on the first floor. The moment he set you down, he was already moving, grabbing the necessary supplies, turning on the faucet, letting warm water fill the sink.

You sat on the closed toilet seat, face already burning in embarrassment as you watched him prepare. "I can do it myself, you know."

Jake only smirked, kneeling in front of you. "I know, but where's the fun in that?"

A whimper lodged in your throat when he gently guided you to stand, then turned you to face the counter. His hands slid down your waist, his touch is careful as he spread your ass apart, exposing both your soaked cunt and your tight, clenching hole.

You let out a choked sound, immediately covering your face with your hands.

Jake chuckled at your reaction, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. "Don't be shy, baby," he murmured, "I'm gonna eat this later, you know."

Your breath hitched, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, anticipation coiling in your stomach despite the embarrassment flooding your face.

Then the douche touched your hole. You sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively tensing, but Jake was already there, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulder, his free hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

"Relax," he cooed, his voice low and patient. "Anus muscles are naturally good at sucking, so don't worry about the water coming in. It won't feel as weird as you think."

Jake squeezed your hip reassuringly before continuing, "I'm gonna let the water stay inside for a few seconds. It'll feel uncomfortable, but it's totally bearable, okay?"

You exhaled shakily, nodding, trusting him completely.

Jake smiled against your skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good girl."

Your body shuddered at his praise, the tension in your shoulders melting ever so slightly. Jake kept his hand steady on your back, his fingers tracing light patterns to keep you relaxed as he slowly let the water flow in.

A strange pressure built inside you, foreign and mildly uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You whined softly, shifting on your feet, and Jake leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Breathe through it," he murmured, "just a few more seconds, baby."

You focused on his touch, on the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. When he finally let the water out, a strange relief washed over you, making you sigh.

"See? Not so bad, huh?" Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You nodded, still feeling a bit shy about the whole process. "It's... weird."

Jake chuckled, squeezing your waist. "Yeah, first time always is. But you're doing so good for me."

His words made your stomach flutter. It was stupid, the way something as simple as that made warmth spread through your chest.

"One more time, okay?" Jake said. "Then you'll be all clean for us."

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication—for us.

"I'll be the first, alright? Get you nice and used to it."

You whimpered at his words, thighs pressing together as heat surged through you. Jake chuckled, noticing your reaction.

"Then, when you're ready," he continued, "we'll take you together."

A gasp left your lips as he nipped at your ear. "I'll be in your pussy, stretching you open while Jay fills up this tight little hole."

Your knees nearly buckled, a whine escaping you as you pressed your forehead against the cool tile. The images flashing through your mind—Jake stretching you open, Jay filling you from behind. It felt surreal, like stepping into one of your deepest, filthiest fantasies. The kind you'd only ever dreamed about. But this was real. This was happening.

Your pussy clenched involuntarily, already aching for more.

Once he finished helping you clean up, you turned to face him, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him down into a heated kiss. It wasn't soft or slow, it was desperate and needy. Your hands roamed his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as his tongue slid against yours.

Jake's hands found their way to your ass, gripping firmly as he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him in place as your lips remained fused in a messy, heated kiss.

He carried you effortlessly up the stairs, his fingers kneading your flesh. You barely registered the moment when he pushed the bedroom door open, until you caught sight of Jay.

Jay was seated at his desk, head tilted slightly downward, pen gliding across the pages of his binder notebook. The only acknowledgment he gave was a brief sigh as he adjusted the volume of his headset, as if this was nothing new to him.

You swallowed, glancing at Jay's back, hesitating. "I think we're going to disturb him," you murmured quietly.

Jake only laughed, his fingers teasing along the curve of your waist. "Ignore him," he whispered, "We're going to have so much fun."

His hands traveled upward, kneading your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. "All fours, baby. Arch your back."

Without thinking, you obeyed. Your knees pressed into the mattress, hands sinking into the sheets as you positioned yourself. You peeked over your shoulder, stealing another glance at Jay. He was still writing, pen moving in smooth, deliberate strokes, seemingly unaffected.

"He's not going to join?" you asked.

Jake smirked, running a hand down your spine, pressing at the small of your back to deepen the arch. "Patience," he murmured. "You know how Jay is. He'll join us later."

Jake reached for the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. Both of you were already bare against the sheets, Jake wasted no time positioning himself behind you, his hands spreading your ass apart as he dipped his head down.

The first swipe of his tongue over your soaked folds made you gasp, your fingers curling into the sheets. "Fuck," he groaned, voice muffled against your skin. "Always so sweet."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself sink into the sensation, a breathy sigh slipping past your lips as you rocked back against his mouth.

Jake tilted his head, pressing his tongue deeper, swirling it inside you before dragging it back up. Then, he started kissing your pussy—deep, wet kisses, his tongue flicking against your clit before sliding up again.

A quiet moan escaped you, but even through the haze of pleasure, you were still aware of Jay sitting at his desk just a few feet away. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, not wanting to disturb him. Even though, really, what you were doing behind him was distracting enough.

"I'm going to eat this little ass, okay?" Jake murmured. Your breath hitched, his hands smoothed over your back, a silent reassurance. "Hey, relax," he soothed, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

The moment his tongue flicked against your other hole, a sharp whimper tore from your lips. Your grip on the sheets tightened as your body jolted at the unfamiliar sensation. It was strange, but the way Jake's free hand slid between your legs to rub slow, deliberate circles over your clit sent waves of pleasure crashing over the discomfort.

And when Jake's tongue breached your hole, a sharp, uncontrollable moan ripped from your throat. The sensation was nothing like you had expected. It was hot, wet, and utterly overwhelming.

Jake let out a low laugh. "Didn't expect to like it this much, huh?" he teased before delivering a sharp slap to your pussy. You yelped, your hips jerking at the sudden sting, only for the warmth of his tongue to soothe it a moment later.

He moved effortlessly between your holes, one moment pressing into your ass, the next licking a slow, filthy stripe down to your dripping cunt. He groaned against you, savoring the way your body practically fed him, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything.

You turned your head, eyes seeking out Jay, still hunched over his notebook, pen moving steadily across the page as if nothing was happening behind him. The sight made you feel frustrated, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"J-Jay..." you whimpered, arching your back even more, hoping and begging for him to at least look.

Jake chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking over your clit before he pulled back, lips glistening. "Aww, baby wants his attention?" he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your butt cheeks.

Your fingers twisted into the sheets, body trembling as Jake's hand came down to knead your ass. "Don't worry," he murmured. "He'll break soon. He always does."

"For now, pay attention to me, hmm?" His voice was so as his hands gliding over your skin . "I'm going to insert a finger. Okay?"

You took a deep breath, and Jake pressed another kiss to your lower back. "Breathe for me, there you go," he murmured as his slicked-up finger traced the tight ring of muscle, teasing but not pushing in just yet.

You whined softly, your body instinctively tensing again. Jake immediately noticed and stopped, pressing more soft kisses against your skin. "I won't rush you," he reassured, his tone filled with patience. "Just focus on how good it feels, okay?"

He flattened his tongue against your entrance again, massaging the sensitive skin with slow licks, easing you into the sensation. It was strange and unfamiliar—but paired with his mouth, it felt... good. Slowly, your muscles began to relax, your body responding to his careful attention.

Only when he felt you melt against him did he ease his finger inside, pushing in barely an inch before stopping. "Still good, baby?" he asked, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding against the sheets. "Y-Yeah... feels weird, but... good."

Jake grinned, "good girl. You're doing so well."

Behind you, Jay finally let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over your heavy breathing. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Though he was still pretending to focus on his notebook, the way he gripped his pen a little too tightly told you everything.

Jake's fingers pressed deeper, slick with lube, stretching you open with slow, careful movements. His cock twitched at the sight of your arched back, the way your ass framed the tight ring of muscle he was working open. He exhaled harshly through his nose, visibly restraining himself from rushing, from giving in to his own desperation.

"You're doing so good, baby," he murmured. Your breath hitched when he added another finger, scissoring you open, teasing the tight heat. It felt strange, but Jake was patient, never pushing too far.

When he was sure you were as ready as you could be, he pulled away slightly, fumbling with the condom, his hands unsteady. He sheathed himself quickly, then positioned himself behind you, his chest pressing flush against your back as he kissed your shoulder.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other guided himself to your entrance.

The first press of his cock made you whimper. Jake immediately hushed you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Relax, baby," he soothed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, kneading them gently. "Breathe for me, nice and slow."

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, you could hear his breath hitch, feel his thighs tremble as he pushed forward inch by inch. He was trying—really trying—not to just snap his hips forward and bury himself fully inside you.

Behind you, the scrape of a chair echoed through the room, followed by the shift of the mattress. You felt Jay's presence right beside you. When you turned your head, you found him sitting on the bed, jaw tight, eyes locked onto the place where Jake was slowly stretching you open.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jake groaned, his voice almost breaking. "Feels so fucking good, baby—ahh—"

Before he could move any further, Jay's voice cut through. "Don't move yet."

Jake let out a frustrated curse, gripping your waist tightly as he stilled. "I know, fuck—I know," he muttered, jaw clenched, his cock twitching inside you.

Jay didn't say anything else. Instead, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and squirted more onto Jake's length. Then, just as carefully, he guided Jake's hips forward, ensuring the stretch remained slow.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Breathe," he murmured, his hand trailing down between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

The added pleasure made you exhale sharply, your body slowly easing up. Jake took that moment to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out with a deep, shuddering groan.

The fullness was something—a different kind of stretch, a different kind of sensation than you were used to. You felt so completely stuffed, and the burn slowly morphing into something else.

Jay shifted beneath you, adjusting his position so that your legs straddled him, his broad frame supporting your weight as he reached between your bodies. His fingers returned to your clit, circling it. The moment his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and teasing the sensitive bud, you let out a helpless moan, your body trembling between the two of them.

Jake took that moment to start moving. Slowly at first, rolling his hips forward, pressing himself deeper inch by inch. A strangled gasp tore from your throat as you felt every bit of him stretching you in a way that had you teetering between pleasure and overwhelming sensation.

"Ha—so good," Jake groaned, as he felt the way your body clenched around him. "Your ass is so fucking tight. I could stay buried in here forever—ahh, fuck—"

Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, fingers digging into Jay's shoulders as you struggled to ground yourself. The pressure between your legs from Jay's touch only intensified everything, sending you spiraling faster than you expected.

Jake picked up his pace, his hips snapping forward in deep thrusts. Each movement pushed you further onto Jay's waiting tongue and fingers, the dual stimulation making your mind go hazy.

You whimpered, your breath coming out in sharp, desperate gasps. "Kiss—please," you begged, eyes glossy, lips parted in a plea.

Jay wasted no time. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as his hand worked faster between your legs, matching the rhythm of Jake's thrusts.

You were already overwhelmed, but you still wanted more. Needed more.

Your hands moved blindly, fumbling with the waistband of Jay's shorts, tugging at the fabric in desperation. Jake smirked behind you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he turned your head to steal another kiss.

Jay let out a deep breathe, standing just enough to push down his shorts and boxers, his hard length springing free. He palmed himself lazily, watching the way your body rocked between them.

You broke the kiss with Jake, your gaze immediately dropping to Jay's aching arousal. "Want you too, please," you whined, voice shaky as your hands are reaching for him.

Jay inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "Yeah?" he murmured, dragging the tip of his cock along your soaked folds, teasing your clit, your body twitching at the light, agonizing touch. You keep nodding your head desperately.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers gripping his dick tight as he forced himself to hold back. "Not yet. Maybe next time... we need your body to get used to this first."

Your heart dropped, "b-but..." your voice wavered, disappointment crashing into you.

Jake stilled behind you, his hands soothing over your hips. "Shh, don't cry, baby," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, but the tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

Jay cursed under his breath, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. "You're too fucking cute when you get like this," he sighed. "We're just taking our time,"

You hiccupped a breath, nodding, even as your body still ached for more.

Jake's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. His pace grew frantic and desperate, losing himself in the way your body clenched around him.

Your moans grew louder, mixing with his gasps, your legs shaking violently. Your muscles gave out, and the two of you collapsed onto Jay beneath you.

"Shit—!" Jay cursed as your weight pressed down on him, but his hand never left your dripping cunt. His fingers slipped inside, one, then two—stretching you open, curling it together with Jake's thrust inside your ass.

A scream ripped from your throat, back arching as the sudden intrusion sent you into an orgasm with no build-up. Your vision blurred, your body convulsing between them, the pleasure hitting so hard that it almost hurt.

"I'm cumming, oh fuck — I'm cumming!" Jake groaned, his hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, his grip on your waist loosening as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, just the sound of your ragged breaths mixing together. Then, slowly, Jake shifted, carefully pulling out of you with a soft, "Fuck, that was..." He trailed off, still catching his breath.

He rolled onto his side, tugging you with him, pressing a lazy, satisfied kiss to your temple. His lips curved into a smirk as he leaned over, stealing a slow kiss from Jay before turning back to you, brushing his knuckles against your flushed cheek.

"Tired?" Jay murmured, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. You managed a small hum in response, body sinking into the mattress, completely drained.

Normally, the three of you could go for hours, pushing past exhaustion until you were nothing but a boneless, overstimulated mess. But this time, it felt different. Deeper. More intense.

A warm hand smoothed down your spine. You didn't know whose it was—Jay or Jake—but it didn't matter. The heat of their bodies surrounded you, and within seconds, you slipped into unconsciousness.

Jake drifted off almost instantly, his breath evening out as he buried his face against your shoulder, one arm draped lazily over your waist. His soft snores filled the quiet room, his grip on you instinctive even in sleep.

Jay propped up on one elbow, let out a quiet exhale, glancing between the two of you. For a moment longer, he just watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way Jake's fingers twitched in his sleep, and the peaceful expression on your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached over, pulling the blanket over the both of you before turning onto his back.

You woke up suddenly, an odd sense of emptiness settling in your chest, and you don't even know why. The bed felt lighter, and the steady warmth that should have been there was missing.

Jake's loud, unbothered snores vibrated against your neck, his arm still draped lazily around your waist. You groaned softly, shifting carefully to pry yourself from his grip. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, but didn't wake as you finally slipped free.

Sitting up, you glanced around the dark room. Jay wasn't there.

Frowning, you grabbed one of Jake's oversized shirts from the floor and pulled it over your head, the hem falling mid-thigh. The air was cooler outside the warmth of the blankets as you quietly padded out of the room.

Descending the stairs, you caught the faint flicker of light coming from the living room. The low hum of a guitar solo played softly in the background, the screen illuminating Jay's face as he lounged on the couch, a half-empty beer bottle resting against his thigh.

"Why aren't you in bed?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. God, you sounded so clingy. But you couldn't help it. The bed felt too empty without him.

Jay's gaze flickered to you as he took another slow sip of his beer before replying, "Trying to make myself sleep."

You hummed in response, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled closer, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. Without hesitation, you sank onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you.

"What can I do to help?" you asked softly, eyes still heavy.

"Just gonna finish this," Jay replied, his eyes fixed on the TV in front of him. You let out a quiet yawn, your foot tapping idly against the floor as you waited.

"Go back upstairs," Jay murmured, still not looking at you. "I'll be up soon."

You shook your head, stubborn even in your drowsiness. Instead of leaving, you shifted closer, leaning against him, resting your head against his shoulder. He stiffened slightly, his whole body going still as he felt your breath warm against his neck.

"Why are you so awkward?" you mumbled, "we have sex, like, all the time, and there's still this... barrier."

Jay didn't answer. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—words you would never dare say if you were fully awake.

"Do you hate me?"

You weren't even sure why you said it. Maybe it was the way he always seemed just a little more distant than Jake. Maybe it was the fact that, even after all this time, you still couldn't quite read him the way you wanted to.

Jay finally let out a slow breath, placing his beer down on the table. Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head.

"You're an idiot," he muttered. But his hand found yours, fingers lacing together with yours, squeezing softly. "How could I ever hate you?"

"Dunno," you mumbled, melting into the his touch. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you just a little closer. Even through your drowsiness, you felt that familiar tingling sensation spreading through your chest.

Jay exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "I'm just... feeling guilty."

Your brows furrowed slightly, your cheek still pressed against his shoulder. "About what?"

He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I feel like I never really got the chance to properly apologize," he admitted. "For how I treated you in the beginning... and for your throat."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "My throat is fine," you murmured, nuzzling even closer.

Jay scoffed softly, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. "Still... sorry," he muttered.

You hummed in response, barely awake now, the warmth of his body lulling you further into relaxation. A comfortable silence settled between you before you mumbled, "Am not gonna take Jake away from you, y'know."

Jay stiffened slightly. "You're still thinking I'm jealous of you?"

You smiled, shifting against him. "Maybe? Either way, I like you both around me."

His grip on your hand loosened, and when you peeked up at him, his expression were hesitant, like he wasn't sure how to respond. But then, his lips quirked up, and he patted your head. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. "And I like it when you're rough... Be like that always, please."

Jay exhaled sharply, eyes darkening just a fraction. You let out a louder yawn, completely unaware of how your words were affecting him. "And I miss having your cock in my mouth."

Jay groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. "You really have no filter when you're sleepy, do you?"

You giggled against his chest. "Nope."

He let out a slow, deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Go to sleep before you say something that makes me do something stupid."

"Wouldn't mind that either..." You hummed again, but instead of settling down, you shifted, pressing your face into his lap, your lips grazing over the outline of his hardening cock.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Mm-mm," you hummed playfully, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.

His cock was already half-hard, twitching slightly as you pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip over the fabric.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your hair tightening, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail just slightly as he felt your warm mouth envelop the head of his cock. "Careful," he warned.

You hummed, the vibration making him groan low in his throat. Despite your sleepiness, your tongue flicked over his tip, lapping at the precum that had gathered there before slowly taking more of him into your mouth.

"Shit," he exhaled, his free hand gripping the couch cushion beside him. You were still half-asleep, barely aware of how needy and pliant you were being, and that made it so much worse for him.

Jay tugged at your hair gently, forcing you to look up at him. Your half-lidded eyes were glassy with sleep, your lips already glistening with spit. He cursed under his breath, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

"You're really something else, you know that?" he muttered. You only blinked up at him, Jay let out a slow breath, he guided your mouth back down, pushing his hips forward just enough for you to take him deeper.

"Since you miss it so much," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lips, "I'll make sure you don't forget how full your mouth can get."

He moved your head with his hand, setting the pace for you. His hips rocked forward in slow, shallow thrusts, careful not to push too deep. But you whined softly, taking control, swallowing more of him down.

Jay cursed, his abs tensing as he tried to hold back. The blowjob was sloppy—messy, lazy. You weren't focused, lost somewhere between sleep and need, your hands barely gripping his thighs for support. So he did it for you, controlling the movement, his fingers guiding your head as his cock disappeared between your lips over and over again.

His breathing grew heavier, his stomach clenching. "I'll be finishing soon," he whispered.

"Jay?"

Jay's head snapped up.

Jake stood at the staircase, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his hair messy from sleep, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned. His expression was still half-asleep, but he was clearly taking in the sight of you between Jay's legs.

Jay exhaled through his nose. "God, both of you are so needy."

Jake dropped onto the couch beside him, slumping slightly. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing through the strands of your hair that is falling. On a normal night, Jake would be on your back, pressing into you, fucking you together. But tonight was different. You were all just barely holding onto consciousness.

Jay turned his head as Jake leaned in, lips brushing over the curve of his jaw, then trailing down his neck. Jay's hand slid over Jake's waist, pulling him in as their mouths met in an unhurried kiss.

Jake hummed against him, fingers tracing lazy circles over Jay's chest, flicking over his nipple. Jay let out a breathy chuckle. "You're barely awake."

Jake smiled sleepily, nuzzling against Jay's neck. "And yet I still found you guys." He glanced down at you. "C'mon, babe, let him finish so we can all go back to bed."

You hummed softly in response, your mouth still wrapped around Jay, tongue swirling lazily over his length.

Your pace was slow, but it didn't matter, Jay was already on edge, his hips twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth fully. He could feel Jake beside him, the way his fingers flicker his nipples.

Jake's other hand moved lower, brushing over your shoulder before slipping beneath Jay's shirt, his palm pressing flat against his stomach.

Jay's breath hitched. "Shit," he muttered. He could barely focus anymore, the wet heat of your mouth, and the teasing touch of Jake's hands. It was too much all at once.

Jay pushed your head down further, his cock hitting the back of your throat as he came, his body tensing beneath Jake's touch. He held you there for a moment, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven pants before finally releasing his grip, letting you pull back.

You swallowed, licking your lips sleepily as you looked up at him.

"Good?" you murmured. "Can we sleep now?"

Jay let out a breathless chuckle, still caught in the aftershocks of his orgasm. His hand found your hair, stroking it in slowly.

"Yeah," he muttered, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Come on, let's go."

Jake yawned beside you, stretching his arms over his head before reaching for you, guiding you up onto your shaky legs. The three of you stumbled up the stairs, still half-asleep, and Jay's hands instinctively settled on your lower backs, guiding you forward.

Once you reached the bed, you collapsed onto the mattress without a second thought. Jay lay on his back, his chest beneath your cheek, while Jake curled up behind you, one arm lazily draped over your waist.

As your eyelids fluttered shut, one last thought flickered through your hazy mind.

This felt nice. Too nice.

And God forbid, you were starting to need it.

If your 18-year-old self could see you now, she'd probably laugh in your face. She'd roll her eyes, scoff, and tell you to get a grip, that liking two guys at the same time wasn't a big deal, that you were being dramatic. Maybe she'd even tell you to kill yourself for overthinking it. Because back then, emotions were easy to dismiss. Love wasn't something you spent time analyzing; it was either there, or it wasn't.

Now you were 22, caught in something you didn't even have a name for. A situationship? Friends with benefits? Whatever it was, it consumed you.

The longer you were with them, the more you realized how easily you had settled into this dynamic. You had become comfortable—too comfortable. The way you sought them out, the way you melted under their touches, the way you craved them when they weren't around. It wasn't just physical neediness anymore. You liked them. Both of them. Romantically.

But you told yourself to just go with the flow.

People fell in love with their friends all the time, didn't they? And most of them survived it.

Besides, you were lucky. The two people you liked not only wanted you around, but they treated you well. They welcomed you into their arms without hesitation. And on top of that, the three of you had the best sex imaginable. It felt like an advantage.

And it was enough.

"What shade do I get?" You asked, your arms wrapped around Jake's as you stood in front of the display of matte lipsticks. Your fingers skimmed over the rows of colors, indecisive.

Jake tilted his head, studying them before picking one up and swiping it across his wrist.

"Are you sure you want this brand?" he asked, rubbing the spot with his thumb. "It feels kinda sticky."

"Because it's a super stay," you explained. "I tried it once when I was sucking you off, and it didn't even smudge."

Jake's eyes lit up instantly, his mouth parting slightly before he turned back to the display.

"Really?" He grabbed a few more shades without hesitation, tossing them into your basket. "I think you should get all of these."

You laughed, watching as Jake eagerly tossed more lipsticks into your basket. "You just want an excuse to see me test them out, don't you?"

Jake smirked, unbothered by how obvious he was. "Of course. I wanna know which one looks the best when you're on your knees."

Heat crawled up your neck, and you playfully smacked his arm. "Pervert."

"And yet you love it," he teased, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

Before you could retort, another voice joined in. "What are you two up to now?"

You turned to see Jay approaching, a cup of iced coffee in hand. He arched a brow at the sight of the basket full of lipsticks before looking at you expectantly.

"She's getting new lipstick," Jake answered for you, grinning. "Ones that don't smudge, even when she's—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence. "Shut up!" you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

Jay's eyes flickered with amusement, sipping his coffee slowly. "I see. So, should I assume you're going to be testing them out on us later?"

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. "I hate both of you."

It was enough, really.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at the elevator mirror, taking in the reflection of the three of you. Jay stood in the middle, arms weighed down with shopping bags that you and Jake had gleefully filled. Jake leaned against the mirrored wall with a lazy grin, one hand in his pocket, the other draped over your shoulder.

It felt really nice, having them both around.

-

"D-Don't ruin my hair, please!" you moaned. "I need to attend some birthday party—ahh!"

Your dress was bunched up around your waist, panties tugged to the side, leaving you open and exposed as Jay thrust into you from behind.

"You should've thought about that before teasing me all day," Jay growled.

"I knew getting ready here was a bad idea," you whimpered, fingers scrambling against the bathroom sink for support. Your reflection in the mirror was a mess, flushed skin, glazed eyes, lips parted as moans spilled out despite your best efforts to stay quiet. And to make things worse, Jake was right there, watching.

His shorts were already pulled down just enough, one hand lazily stroking himself as he leaned against the counter. He looked amused, completely unbothered by the fact that Jay was fucking you senseless only a few feet away.

Jay caught his gaze and smirked. "Jake. Shut her up."

Jake moved immediately, stepping in front of you, palming your jaw before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"You're gonna ruin my makeu—mmph!"

Your protest was cut short as Jake pressed his cock past your lips, groaning as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him. He didn't waste time, thrusting shallowly, forcing you to take him deeper.

"Don't talk when your mouth is full." Jake chuckled, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

Jay adjusted his grip on your hips, making sure you were positioned just right between them before snapping his hips forward, hitting deeper. You moaned helplessly around Jake's cock, eyes rolling back.

In the end, you were late to the party.

"What the fuck? The call time was 7:00, and it's already 8:30!" Sunoo huffed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he grabbed your face, tilting it side to side. "And your mascara is a disaster. Were you crying or just getting absolutely wrecked?"

You blinked at him innocently while he pulled out a makeup wipe, trying to salvage the mess.

"Traffic," you exhaled, barely suppressing a smirk.

Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck that way. "Yeah, traffic on Jay's and Jake's dicks, maybe."

You ignore him, instead you spotted Sunghoon in the crowd and immediately beelined toward him, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Happy birthday!" you chirped, grinning.

With finals finally over, the weight of the semester lifted from your shoulders. You and Sunoo jumped up and down in pure excitement, squealing like kids on Christmas morning as you rattled off ideas for how to spend your break.

"I have enough savings to travel abroad! You said you wanted to go to Spain, right?" you gushed, practically bouncing on your feet.

Sunoo gasped dramatically, gripping your shoulders. "Are we actually doing this?! Oh my God, imagine us drinking sangria in Barcelona, living our best lives!"

The two of you shrieked in unison, drawing a few odd glances from passing students, but neither of you cared. The rush of post-finals freedom was intoxicating.

"Maybe I should ask Jay and Jake if they want to come," you mused, pulling out your phone.

Sunoo's jaw dropped. "What?! I mean, Jake is fun to be around, but I don't want to hear any of your sex noises while we're sightseeing!"

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder. "We wouldn't do that with you around! I have self-respect, you know!"

Sunoo gave you a deadpan stare. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as he pulled out his phone. "Anyway, where are they? Their exams finished before ours, and I literally texted in the group chat that we're getting samgyup."

He started typing furiously, muttering under his breath. Then, suddenly, he froze. "Oh?" Sunoo blinked at his screen. "Wait. It's their anniversary today?"

Your brows furrowed. "What?" You peeked over his shoulder at his phone.

There, on his feed, was a post from a user named Ni-ki, someone Sunoo was mutuals with. The caption read: Happy four years to my parents <3

Your stomach twisted. A cold sensation washed over you, like someone had dumped ice water over your head.

Four years. Four years of them. Of course, before you, before any of this—there was just the two of them. It was so obvious, wasn't it? Relationships were meant for two people.

You swallowed down the sudden lump in your throat and forced a smile, pretending like it didn't bother you. "Let's just go eat samgyup, just the two of us," you told Sunoo, keeping your tone light. "They're probably celebrating."

Sunoo studied your face, eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Sure."

The rest of the evening, you tried. You tried to be present while grilling meat, while sipping soju, while joking with Sunoo. You tried to enjoy the post-exam freedom, to let yourself have fun while shopping.

But every few minutes, your fingers would twitch toward your phone. You'd glance at the screen, waiting for a message. A text. Something.

Nothing. Your chest ached, you exhaled sharply, shoving your phone into your pocket as you turned back to the skincare aisle in front of you. Focus.

It was normal. They were a couple. They needed their own time, their own space. You were just a third person. A fun little addition. Someone to spice things up in bed.

It was enough. Wasn't it?

The air was crisp when you arrived at Jay's apartment, adjusting your jacket as you stood outside the door. When it finally swung open, Jake was there, a warm grin on his face.

"Hey, baby. Cold out?" he teased, pulling you inside before you could answer. His arms wrapped around you immediately. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of whatever Jay was cooking in the kitchen.

"What's your plan for Christmas?" he asked, voice light as he led you inside.

You shrugged, barely thinking about it. "Not sure yet."

Jay glanced up from the kitchen, raising a brow. "No family trip this year?"

"Probably not. I might just...stay around here."

Jake's grin widened. "Good. Then you can spend it with us."

You let them pull you in. You cooked together, the three of you moving seamlessly in the kitchen. Jake stole bites of the food while Jay smacked his hand away, muttering curses under his breath. You laughed, pressing into both of them, soaking in the easy comfort of their presence.

Later, a movie played in the background while the three of you curled up together on the couch. Jake was the first to initiate the making out, his lips finding yours, his hands skimming your waist. Normally, you'd melt into him.

But tonight... Something felt off. You weren't in the mood. You excused yourself quickly, heading to the bathroom, pressing a hand against your abdomen as you shut the door behind you.

Breathe. A dull pain throbbed low in your stomach, the kind that made your body feel sluggish. Right, that explained it. You were on your period.

When you stepped back into the living room, both of them looked up.

"Everything okay?" Jake asked, brow furrowing slightly.

You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I'm just...on my period."

Jay stood immediately, already reaching for his wallet. "Do you need pads? Tampons?"

You blinked. "Uh...yeah. Pads, please."

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and left. You stared at the door even after he was gone. Why does he have to be so fucking perfect?

There was no sex that night. Instead, the three of you played board games. Jay made you a hot chocolate, murmuring that it might help with the cramps. Jake pulled you into his lap during the game, rubbing your back absentmindedly.

It should've felt nice. And it did. But at dinner, as Jay and Jake stood in the kitchen, bickering over a recipe, laughter spilling between them, you watched them, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

You smiled, ignoring the dull ache in your chest.

Because they were perfect together.

Because they had always been perfect together.

And yet, for some reason, you felt like you were ruining things between them. A third presence in something that had already been whole. You weren't meant to be here—not really.

Why did it hurt?

You scoffed at yourself, shaking your head. It's the period hormones, you reasoned. That's all. That's why your emotions were all over the place. That's why everything stung more than it should.

Just go with the flow.

You'd been telling yourself that for months. That it was enough. But then... why were you acting like this?

The three of you were outside now, the winter air biting at your cheeks as Jake built a snowman. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he packed snow together, his energy as endless as ever.

"We should enroll together for the next semester! Maybe we can be classmates!" Jake chirped, glancing up at you with a grin.

You let out a soft laugh, exhaling into the cold. "Yeah, maybe." But your voice lacked its usual excitement.

Jay stepped beside him, pulling Jake's scarf up higher, adjusting his gloves with careful hands. Jake giggled, shaking his head playfully to mess up Jay's hair in return.

Jay leaned in, kissing him softly. You looked away immediately, biting your lip. Scolded yourself for feeling that ache again.

It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't. But why did your chest feel so fucking tight?

You let out a slow breath, forcing a smile as Jake turned back to his snowman. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you shifted on your feet, rubbing your gloved hands together for warmth.

Just go with the flow.

You're overthinking again. But even as you tried to swallow down the tightness in your chest, it remained lingering.

"Hey."

You blinked, snapping back to reality when Jay called for you. He had stepped away from Jake, his dark eyes searching yours.

"Yeah?" You hoped your voice sounded normal.

Jay studied you for a second longer before shaking his head slightly. "You okay?"

"Of course," you answered too quickly, but he didn't look convinced.

Your stomach twisted, and for a brief second, you wondered if you should just say it. Say what had been weighing on you. But what would even be the point? They are happy.

"You just look... off."

You laughed, waving him off. "I have cramps. That's all." That part wasn't a lie.

"Want me to buy you something for it?"

Your heart clenched, even though it was a simple, kind offer. You shook your head. "No, I'll be fine."

Jay's stare lingered for a second longer, like he didn't fully believe you, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached out, ruffling your hair before walking back toward Jake, who was still messing with the snowman's face.

The two of them laughed over something, their voices mixing into the winter air. You crossed your arms over your chest, forcing your gaze to the sky. You shouldn't feel like this.

You shouldn't feel like the outsider.

The more you lingered in these feelings, the more salty you became. The bitterness wasn't so easy to swallow anymore.

It crept into the way you spoke, the way you moved around them, the way your smile felt just a little too forced when Jake clung to Jay like he was his whole world.

And maybe he was. Maybe they were each other's whole world, and you were just a guest in it.

By day three of Christmas break, they asked you to hang out again. And honestly, why?

Your period meant no sex, no fun. So why did they still want you here?

That was what annoyed you the most. Because now, without sex to distract you, you were seeing them for what they really were. A couple. The way they moved around each other, the way their bodies fit so effortlessly together it wasn't just about lust. It was real. And it was in front of your own fucking eyes.

Jake, as always, was in Jay's lap.

The movie played, but you weren't really paying attention. Instead, all you could focus on was Jake's soft giggles, the absentminded way Jay's fingers skimmed over his arm.

They were whispering, laughing, caught up in their own world.

"I can't hear the movie." Your voice was tight, teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached.

They both stilled, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Jake mumbled, shrinking back slightly. A moment later, he moved toward you, arms reaching to pull you into their space, like he always did, but you leaned away.

The rejection was small, but it might as well have been a gunshot. Jake's hands hesitated mid-air before he let them drop.

"Forget it," you sighed, standing up. "I'm going to bed."

"You're sleeping over?" Jake asked, confused.

"Is that a problem?" Your voice came out sharper than intended, and Jake immediately shut his mouth, exchanging a glance with Jay.

You didn't wait for a response. Instead, you made your way to Jay's room, shutting the door behind you a little harder than necessary.

"I think it's the period," Jake mumbled, gaze fixed on the staircase. "I've never been with a girl before, but the guys on the soccer team always complain about their girlfriends getting moody when they're on it."

Jay didn't answer. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, staring at the flickering images on the screen, lips pressed in a thin line, because he knew exactly what it was.

And if he was right, things were only going to get more complicated.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt the bed shift.

Jake's arms carefully adjusted around you, pulling you closer as he sighed against your hair. On the other side, Jay moved in, his arm draping over your waist, fitting seamlessly between you and Jake.

You stayed still, breathing evenly, willing your body to relax even though your mind was wide awake.

But you couldn't sleep, the weight of their arms was suffocating.

By the time their breathing evened out, soft snores filling the space, you slowly peeled yourself away. Jake stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Neither did Jay. Quietly, you reached for your bag, slipping into your winter coat and boots.

And then, without looking back, you walked out.

     The cold bit at your skin the second you stepped outside. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. The only place open at this hour was a small K-Mart, its neon sign buzzing weakly against the night sky.

You stepped inside, the warm air hitting your face as you walked straight to the ramen aisle. Jin ramen, tteokbokki, enoki rolls—your hands moved on autopilot, gathering ingredients.

But when you stopped, staring blankly at the boiling water in the store's self-service kitchen, you felt it again.

That unbearable weight in your chest. Your lips quivered. Not from the cold, but from the pressure threatening to spill over. Why did it have to be like this?

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing hard. The sound of the store's entrance sliding open barely registered in your mind. Footsteps shuffled against the linoleum floor, followed by the sound of complaining.

"Why did the only open K-Mart have to be this far? God, I'm freezing—grr. Fuck your ramen addiction, really."

A familiar voice. Your head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

Heeseung's girlfriend blinked at you, a polite smile forming on her lips until she actually saw your face.

And then, before you could stop it—before you could pretend—your tears fell.

Her face immediately softened, she just pulled you into her arms, tucking your head against her chest. Her hands rubbed slow, comforting circles against your back, her body shielding you from the curious eyes of the late-night shoppers.

"Shit, you're really crying," she muttered, not unkindly.

You let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of her coat. Heeseung appeared beside the two of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight. He exchanged a glance with his girlfriend, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pack of tissues, and wordlessly held it out to you.

The three of you sat in silence, eating your ramen. Heeseung and his girlfriend didn't ask why you had been crying, didn't pry or push for an explanation. Instead, Heeseung kept the conversation light, cracking goofy jokes that forced small chuckles out of you, helping ease the tightness in your chest.

After finishing your meal, they drove you back to your dorm. As you stepped out of the car, Heeseung waved lazily, and his girlfriend leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek, smirking as she teased, "If you ever need a distraction, I'd be happy to be between your legs any day."

You managed a laugh, shaking your head as you muttered, "I'll keep that in mind."

But as soon as you closed the door behind you, the ache in your chest returned.

Avoidance was the only thing you could do now.

Sunoo sat cross-legged on your bed, finalizing the ticket purchase for Spain. You had only brought up the idea of a trip yesterday, and now he had a flight booked for tomorrow morning, jokingly humming some song about being a backburner.

Of course, you felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, sitting beside him. "I know I've been all over the place."

Sunoo barely looked up from his phone. "Yeah, yeah, you always apologize," he sighed dramatically. Then, he shot you a pointed look. "But this time, you better focus on me, okay?"

Your phone buzzed on the bed beside you. A string of messages from Jay and Jake.

— Where did you go last night? — Why didn't you wake us up? — Are you okay? — Talk to us.

You hesitated before typing a short reply: Sorry for being weird. I was just in a bad mood. I'll be gone for a while, going on a trip with Sunoo.

You didn't wait for their response before silencing your notifications.

Spain was beautiful. Sunoo dragged you through every tourist spot, every café, every club he could find. You drank, laughed, danced until your feet hurt, flirted with strangers just to feel something different. But no matter how much fun you had, no matter how many distractions Sunoo shoved in front of you, the ache never really went away.

Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, you would catch yourself zoning out, your mind slipping back to them. Wondering if they missed you.

By the time you returned home, enrollment for the second semester had already begun. Sunoo still had no clue about your tangled-up feelings, and you had done your best to keep it that way. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake had stopped flooding your messages, the once-active group chat now reduced to occasional TikTok links exchanged between Sunoo and Jake.

"We should try to get into the same classes again," Sunoo chirped, pulling you out of your thoughts as you both walked toward campus. "I swear to God, if you abandon me for someone else again, I'm—"

He cut himself off when you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

Because just a few feet away, by the enrollment booths, stood Jay and Jake.

Jake's eyes lit up the moment he saw you, his signature wide grin stretching across his face. Before you could react, he was already pulling you into a tight hug, his familiar scent of clean laundry and something subtly musky wrapped around you.

"You're back!" he chirped excitedly, rocking you slightly in his embrace.

You stiffened. Your hands hovered awkwardly over his back, unsure whether to push him away or let yourself melt into the comfort of his touch.

Sunoo, however, had no such hesitation. With an exaggerated huff, he reached forward and pinched Jake's waist.

"Hey! You're trying to steal my girl again!" Sunoo scolded.

Jake only laughed, sticking his tongue out playfully as he tightened his hold on you. "Not stealing, just borrowing." He turned his head, his lips brushing close to your ear. "You ignored us for so long. You didn't even bring us back a souvenir."

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a small smile. "It was... a last-minute trip."

Jake pulled back slightly, still holding onto your wrists, his eyes scanning your face. Jay, on the other hand, remained silent. Unlike Jake, he didn't rush forward to greet you. He stood a step behind, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was observing you.

Trying to break the tension, you shifted your attention back to Jake, forcing yourself to engage in conversation. "So, uh... how was break for you guys?"

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but Jay beat him to it.

"You tell us," Jay said. "You're the one who disappeared."

"I—I just needed some space," you said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Things were just... a lot."

"A lot," Jay repeated slowly, tilting his head. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, before settling back on your face. "And now?"

"Now?" you echoed, caught off guard.

"Are you still needing space?"

There was an underlying challenge in his words. Like he was daring you to say yes. You hesitated, you should say yes. That would be the smart thing to do. The right thing. You had spent the entire trip convincing yourself that distance was what you needed.

But standing here, with Jake still holding onto you and Jay pinning you down with his gaze, you realized, you didn't actually want space. You just wanted them, but you couldn't say that.

So instead, you forced a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean... I'm here now, aren't I?"

Jake beamed, satisfied with your answer. "That means we're celebrating! Let's go out tonight."

Sunoo let out an exaggerated shriek, eyes widening in disbelief. "Excuse me?!" He placed a hand over his chest, looking personally offended by the sudden plan.

Jake only laughed, completely unfazed. "Of course you’re coming!" He slung an arm around Sunoo’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake.

Sunoo scoffed dramatically, swatting at his arm. "You act like I want to go. But fine, whatever." He shot you a sideways glance, eyes sharp, knowing. "If she wants to go, we’ll go."

And so, you went. The four of you ended up at a new restaurant, one that Jake had been eager to try. But the moment you sat down, regret settled in your bones.

You tried to act normal, laughing when Jake cracked a joke, nodding along when Jay spoke, but you couldn’t hold it together. Your fingers fidgeted endlessly with the edge of your sleeve, your mind drifting too far. You weren’t present. Not really.

Sunoo noticed halfway through dinner, he leaned in slightly. "Maybe we should go."

You didn’t hesitate. "Yeah. Let’s go."

And now, you were crying again.

In the car. On the drive home. Wherever. It didn’t even matter anymore. Sunoo sighed, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you in a careful hold. "Hey, hey, it’s okay," he murmured, his palm rubbing slow circles against your back, trying to soothe you. But there was an edge of panic in his voice because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why you were crying. 

And you couldn’t tell him, because admitting it would make it real.

You could only remember what he had told you before. "Don’t lose yourself."

But you had, you had lost yourself the moment you started falling for them.

It was sad. And stupid. And kind of funny in a cruel way. Funny how easily you fell. Funny how, in the beginning, you kept telling yourself that this was enough. But it wasn’t.

And now, you regretted everything, because it only made your feelings stronger.

You thought you could handle it. You thought you could play it cool, stay casual. But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You were pathetic—because you let yourself believe you could be this comfortable, that you could exist between them without falling apart.

But you weren’t comfortable. You weren’t okay.

The only space they made for you was in their bed, not in their love.

[enimsiyobeht]

better than me? drabble despite the wc being 1.8k.

mdni 🦭 !! boypussy jay x amab reader. could be seen as a continuation/part two of encore (side intercourse of bp sunghoon x reader before jay swings by & steals the show) + similar elements of belly bulge, cum inflation, & cervix fucking. implied ot7 harem. implied 8th member reader. exhibitionism & voyeurism, heavy overstimulation, subtle dumbification if you squint, minor use of he/him pronouns used for reader (when being addressed), minor fingering (s. fingers himself & j. receives fingering), jay is cocky asf, hair pulling (j. receiving), rough sex, subtle brat taming if you squint, implied breeding kink, heavy dirty talk, unprotected sex (on both ends, pls wrap your willy). tysm for 300+ blog followers!!

Sunghoon was already a mess—splayed out across the hotel mattress with his thighs spread wide, his cunt swallowing your cock with greedy, fluttering pulls. His fingers clawed at the sheets, eyes rolled back, lips parted in soft, ruined moans that barely made it past his throat. Every thrust pushed him higher—overstimulated and soaked, slick dripping down his ass and staining the sheets beneath him.

Your hands were firm on his hips, keeping him steady as you drove in deep again, slow but brutal. Each time your cock bottomed out, it pressed directly into Sunghoon’s tender cervix, and he would keen, back arching like he’d been shocked. “F-Fuck—g-gonna break me,” he whimpered, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Your cock’s too much—‘s too deep—”

“You’re taking it, though,” you murmured against his throat, biting softly. “Taking it so damn well.”

Sunghoon sobbed, nails scraping helplessly down his own thighs. “Y-You’re gonna make me come again—c-can’t—”

A voice cut through the wet sounds of skin and moaning.

“Seriously?”

Jay stood near the window, arms crossed and one brow arched, clearly unimpressed—or maybe just impatient. His shirt was long gone, sweatpants riding low on his hips, revealing the defined V-line and flat stomach that twitched every time Sunghoon moaned again. “You’re still at it?”

You looked over your shoulder briefly, lips curved in a smirk. “Problem?”

Jay scoffed. “No. Just didn’t think Sunghoon would be greedy enough to hog your cock for twenty minutes.”

Sunghoon didn’t have the energy to glare. He whimpered instead, hips jerking as your cock slid deep again. “I-I’m not hogging—he’s not done—!”

Jay rolled his eyes. “He’ll be done when I say so.”

He moved closer to the bed, eyes locked on the mess between Sunghoon’s thighs—the sticky trail of cum leaking from his stretched pussy, the soft flutter of his walls every time you pulled back. Jay tilted his head, lips curling. “You’re really gonna let him melt like that while I sit here untouched?”

You stilled for a moment, your cock still buried in Sunghoon’s cunt. Then you glanced at Jay, amused. “You jealous?”

Jay stepped up to the edge of the bed, hands on his hips. “I’m saying I can take it better.”

That got Sunghoon’s attention. He blinked up at Jay, still trembling. “A-Are you serious?”

Jay just smirked, already tugging his sweats down and stepping out of them. “Dead serious.”

You finally pulled out of Sunghoon, leaving his pussy clenching around emptiness, leaking cum down onto the sheets. Sunghoon whined, hips twitching as his hands shot between his legs to touch himself, unwilling to feel empty.

Jay climbed up beside him, reaching over to run a hand along his thigh. “You look fucked-out already,” he teased, fingertips brushing lightly against the soaked folds. “You really think he’s done with me?”

You settled back on the bed, cock glistening with slick and still hard. Your gaze raked over Jay’s body—from the flush in his cheeks to the tight, wet folds between his thighs, already swollen with heat.

Jay met your gaze, bold as ever. “Use my pussy next. I’m not gonna cry or beg like him.”

Sunghoon moaned softly at the insult but couldn’t argue—not when your cum was still dripping out of him, not when his pussy twitched at just the thought of watching Jay get split open next.

You leaned forward, gripping Jay’s jaw with one hand. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

Jay smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

Jay didn’t flinch when you shoved him onto his back, legs spread open over the same spot Sunghoon had just been ruined in. His hands went to his thighs, holding himself open with practiced ease—his folds were flushed and glistening, already wet from anticipation, slick stringing softly between them. The pink of his clit peeked out, twitching from the cool air brushing over it.

You didn’t move right away. You knelt between Jay’s legs and just stared, taking in the way his cunt clenched around nothing, fluttering with every breath. Jay’s belly tensed under the attention, but he didn’t look away.

“Don’t look at it like that,” he muttered, tone defensive, cocky. “You gonna fuck it or just admire it all night?”

You leaned down and licked a slow stripe up the inside of Jay’s thigh, stopping just shy of his pussy. “Pretty for someone so damn loud.”

Jay huffed, clearly holding back a twitch when your thumbs spread him open, exposing the slick folds in full—glossy, puffy, soaked. His hole clenched again at the air, hungry. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but the second your fingers dipped in to tease at the entrance, his body betrayed him: back arching, hips grinding subtly into the touch, clit twitching as it brushed against his palm.

“Fuck,” you murmured, thumb brushing over the clit deliberately now, watching the way Jay jerked in response. “You’re dripping and I haven’t even touched your pussy properly yet.”

Jay scoffed. “Not my fault you’re taking forever.”

But he was breathless now. His chest rose and fell quicker than before, eyes flicking briefly to Sunghoon still laid out beside him, dazed and watching through a haze of overstimulation.

Your fingers pressed deeper. Two at once, slow but firm, fucking into Jay’s tight pussy while your thumb circled that swollen clit in tight, maddening patterns. Jay’s thighs trembled, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek, refusing to moan first.

“You’re holding out,” you muttered, voice low. “Let’s fix that.”

You replaced fingers with cock. No warning. Just the thick, lubed head nudging at Jay’s entrance and pushing in—slow, mercilessly slow—until the tight ring gave way and swallowed you up. Jay gasped, spine curving, his cunt slick and tight around the intrusion.

It was different than Sunghoon—Jay wasn’t shy, wasn’t whimpering and overwhelmed. He took it like a challenge, kept his legs wide open and his teeth clenched through the stretch, even when the pressure forced a soft bulge into his lower belly.

“Still think you can take it?” you asked, as if confirming when you went halfway in.

Jay exhaled roughly. “Hah—yeah. Don’t stop now.”

You slammed the rest in. Jay choked, finally letting out a broken sound as his cunt squeezed tight around the cock buried to the hilt. His clit rubbed against your base with every grind, sending sparks of sharp pleasure up his spine.

Sunghoon whimpered at the sound, shifting weakly beside them. His fingers toyed lazily with his spent cunt, eyes fixed on the way your cock made Jay’s stomach bulge with every deep thrust.

Jay’s breath came faster now. “F-Fuck—fuck, okay—shit—” His hands scrambled for your shoulders, gripping tight as the rhythm picked up. “So fucking deep—”

You grabbed his hair and pulled, arching Jay’s throat up to expose the flushed skin. “Not crying yet?”

Jay moaned through clenched teeth, his pussy spasming from the pressure. “N-Not yet—hah—nngh—fuck, keep going—”

“Yeah?” you growled, hips slamming forward, cock punching into his cunt with a wet slap. “Take it, then. Gonna fuck that smug attitude right out of you.”

Jay’s eyes rolled back, the smack of skin and the obscene squelch of his soaking hole filling the room. Every time you bottomed out, his cunt squeezed like it was trying to trap you there, greedy and twitching around the intrusion.

“I-I can feel it—” Jay gasped, eyes wide, hand dragging down to press on his own bulge. “Feel your cock inside—fuck—”

Your thumb found his clit again, rubbing fast and hard as you pounded into him. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Show me and Sung how cock-drunk that tight pussy can get.”

Jay came with a strangled sob, cunt convulsing around your cock like a vice, body arching as slick squirted out around the intrusion. “F-Fucking—fuck—!”

He was trembling now, legs shaking, face flushed and open with wrecked pleasure.

You didn’t stop.

Jay couldn’t speak.

His mouth hung open, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan as his cunt spasmed around the cock still buried inside him. The first orgasm had hit so hard it left his body twitching, walls milking your length in desperate, greedy pulses like he couldn’t bear the idea of being empty again.

You didn’t give him space to recover. Your pace was relentless—hips snapping forward, balls slapping against Jay’s ass, slick leaking out in messy gushes from how wet and overworked his pussy had become.

Jay’s fingers clawed purposefully crescent marks at your shoulders, digging in deep like he needed to anchor himself to something real. “C-Can’t—fuck—s-sensitive—!” he gasped, voice cracking beautifully. “You’re gonna—gonna make me—”

“You already came,” you growled against his throat, one hand holding Jay’s thigh up as you thrust in even deeper, angling perfectly into his sore cervix. “You think I’m stopping now?”

Jay cried out. He was trembling from head to toe, clit flushed and swollen from the way your body pressed against it with every rough thrust. His belly bulged visibly, obscene and perfect, his pussy so stretched around the thick length stuffing him full that the shape of it could be seen every time you pushed in hard.

“Look at you,” you muttered, licking into the corner of Jay’s mouth. “Cock-drunk already. All that attitude for what?”

Jay whimpered helplessly, his hands sliding down to push against his own belly, feeling the way the thick head of your cock bulged up inside him. “Wanna—wanna feel it,” he slurred. “Want it deep—inside—fill me up, please—please—fuck, don’t pull out—”

You didn’t answer with words. You shoved Jay down harder into the mattress, hips grinding deep as your cock throbbed inside the soaked heat. The moment the tight ring of Jay’s cervix gave just a little more, letting the tip kiss past it—

Jay screamed.

His legs wrapped tight around your waist, nails raking down your back. His second orgasm slammed into him like a wave—sudden, hot, overwhelming—cunt spasming uncontrollably as another gush of slick squirted out around the still-pounding cock inside him.

And you fucked him through it. Deep, rough, desperate thrusts, chasing the edge with the sound of Jay’s wrecked moans echoing in your ears.

When you finally came, it was with a deep growl and a sharp snap of your hips. You buried yourself to the hilt and stayed there, your cock twitching hard as thick, hot cum spilled into Jay’s cunt—pump after pump, painting his insides full, the pressure so deep and tight that more leaked out around the seal of their bodies.

Jay moaned through it, too fucked-out to form words, just clinging to you and trembling as his pussy was bred full. His belly tensed again, warm and full and messy inside, and he didn’t stop clenching around it.

When you finally pulled back slightly, Jay whimpered at the shift, his pussy pulsing around the movement. He wasn’t empty, not really—not with how full he was, your cum seeping from him in slow, heavy drips.

Sunghoon, still dazed and quiet beside them, reached out with shaking fingers to touch where it leaked out. His voice was hoarse.

“I want it again,” he whispered. “I want that next.”

Jay just laughed breathlessly, dragging a hand down his slick-coated stomach. “Get in line.”

here you go horny anons (/nsrs, tysm for 400+ notes on encore, & ty to oomf for giving me motivation to write this)