#every part as he gets older just makes me even more-

[fangdokja]

They’re not heroes. They’re your tormentors, and you’ll love every second of it.

❤︎ Synopsis. Four men, each consumed by a darkness that binds them to you, will stop at nothing to claim your soul. In their world, love is a twisted cage, and you’re the captive—lost in a nightmare where escape is impossible and desire is the cruelest torment.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Mr. Reca x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Mydei x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Anaxa x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Phainon x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. The Game of Surrender - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 4,707

♡ TW. dom + top + older + slightly sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, suggestive themes, psychological + mental conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological + emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, Stockholm Syndrome

♡ Note. This was made before the official releases of characters, so be warned that some information may be inaccurate once additional lore comes out.

♡ A/N. Not me not knowing fully who these characters are. So... not sure if I did this right hahaha. It's too early to judge the unreleased characters but oh well. And, I did put this into my usual style... idk adjskaskd Take this like a brief hypothesis, I suppose. I am thinking on getting back to Genshin and HSR... maybe. Probably not though. Idk. Anyways, I personally thought I cooked with this. Just not sure with personalities askadsdakldsm

♡ Mr. Reca.

"Every thought you have, every breath you take, is a scene in my film—my masterpiece. And don't worry, darling, I'll make sure you never forget your lines. Not even when you're screaming them in your sleep."

The universe had always been a canvas to him—a vast, writhing tapestry of chaos and order, the kind of unpredictable beauty that Mr. Reca found utterly magnetic. He had always been a collector of moments, a Memokeeper who consumed emotions, gestures, and unguarded thoughts with the same fervor a drowning man gulps air.

But you—oh, you—you were not just another fleeting spark in the vast night of existence.

You were an anomaly, a glitch in the dreamscape, a hauntingly real smear of imperfection across his perfectly constructed illusions. And so, he watched you, studied you, devoured the fragile lines of your every expression. It wasn’t obsession, not at first. It was curiosity, a scientist’s hunger for understanding. But curiosity, as it often does, rotted into something far darker.

It began subtly. At first, you didn’t even realize you were his subject. The assistant frog—so innocuous, its mechanical chirps like a child’s toy—hovered too long in your presence. That thing recorded the barest twitch of your lips, the dilation of your pupils when you dreamt, the cadence of your breath when you were lost in thought.

He played those recordings back again and again, crafting you into the centerpiece of his mind’s latest film, a work of art that no audience but him would ever see. Each flicker of your gaze, each half-whispered syllable, was dissected with a surgeon’s precision and woven into the dream bubble of his fantasies.

You had not agreed to this, of course. You would not have, had you known. But consent had never mattered much to Mr. Reca, not when reality itself could be edited, overwritten, and reshaped to suit his narrative.

He didn’t fall in love with you in the way mortals understood love.

No, it was something far more grotesque. You were not his equal. You were not even human, not to him.

You were a role to be perfected, an actress bound to his script. And he—he was the director, the puppeteer pulling the strings of your existence with a touch so light, so surgical, that you didn’t notice your autonomy dissolving until it was too late.

He didn’t approach you like an ordinary man. Ordinary men didn’t cloak their words in riddles, their intentions in shadows.

“Your dreams are fascinating,” he said once, his tone light but his eyes dark, predatory. “I could make a masterpiece from them. Would you let me?”

His gaze burned into you, not with affection, but with hunger—the kind of hunger that consumes, destroys, leaves nothing but ash in its wake.

When you hesitated, when you stammered out a polite refusal, his smile curved sharp and cruel. “Ah, but do you really have a choice?”

You didn’t, of course.

The dream bubbles began soon after. Vivid, horrifyingly real landscapes where you were no longer yourself but a marionette dancing to his whims.

The first time you woke screaming, trembling from the phantom pain of dream wounds, he was there. He shouldn’t have been—your door had been locked—but there he was, sitting on the edge of your bed with his head tilted and that damned frog-camera clutched in his gloved hands.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, as if you were a specimen under glass. “You feel it, don’t you? The fear, the thrill, the pain. Tell me, how does it taste?”

In bed, he is not a lover. He is a creator, and you are his medium.

His touch is clinical at first, cold and calculated, his gloved fingers trailing down your spine as if mapping the curve of your body for a sculpture he plans to carve later.

But there is heat beneath that coldness, a violent, consuming fire that erupts when he lets himself indulge. He does not make love. He takes. He presses you into the mattress as if trying to merge you with it, his weight oppressive, suffocating. His hands grip your wrists too tightly, leaving bruises like the ink stains of his artistry. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice a low murmur that mixes poetry with threats, promises with lies.

“Do you feel it?” he whispers, his tone too calm for the frenzy of his movements. “The way your body betrays you? The way it obeys me, even when your mind doesn’t want to?”

His teeth graze the shell of your ear, and the sharp pain that follows is not accidental. “I could keep you here forever,” he says, his voice thick with sadistic delight. “Inside the dream, inside me. Would you even know the difference? Would you even care?”

You would care, of course.

You fight him, or at least you try. But he’s relentless, unyielding, a force of nature that smothers your resistance with sheer willpower. He doesn’t let you hide from him, not even in the sanctuary of your own mind.

His powers as a Memokeeper ensure that every thought, every secret, every fleeting desire you’ve ever tried to bury is laid bare before him. He uses them against you, weaving them into the narrative of his control.

“You want this,” he says, his voice a velvet knife. “You want me. Your body knows it, even if your mind refuses to admit it.”

His lips trail down your throat, his teeth leaving marks that will linger for days, physical proof of his dominance. “And when I’m done with you, when there’s nothing left of you but what I’ve created, you’ll thank me. You’ll beg me to keep you.”

The horror of it all is that he doesn’t just break you physically. He breaks your mind, piece by fragile piece, until you can no longer tell where the dream ends and reality begins. His dream bubbles seep into your waking hours, twisting your perception until even the memories of your resistance feel like fabrications.

He tells you that you’re his muse, his masterpiece, his greatest work. And despite the revulsion, the terror, some part of you begins to believe him.

Because how could someone so brilliant, so meticulous, be wrong?

And yet, in the darkest corners of your mind, you know the truth.

You are not his muse.

You are his victim, a living doll trapped in the nightmare of his creation.

But no one will ever hear your screams.

He’s made sure of that.

After all, reality itself is just another film to him, and he’s already written your final scene.

♡ Mydei.

"You belong to me, just as I am bound to this blood-soaked fate. No one will ever take you from me, not in this life, not in the next. I’ll carve my name into your soul, and you’ll learn to love it, even if it takes a thousand deaths."

It begins as a hum in the back of his throat, a low vibration that settles into his chest like the resonance of a beast stirring in its lair. He watches you, not from afar, but from the corner of your vision, where his shadow seems to stretch and curve unnaturally—always larger, always darker than the dim light allows. His gaze is not mere sight; it’s weight, pressure, suffocation. He sees the tremor in your fingers as you pour water into a glass. He catalogues the way your breaths hitch when his footsteps echo closer, closer still.

And when he speaks, his voice is a razor dragged slowly, deliberately, across raw nerves. “You’re trembling,” he says, though there’s no concern in his tone.

It’s an observation, clinical yet laced with something sharper, something akin to hunger.

He doesn’t touch you yet, but the proximity is suffocating—his presence a noose tightening with every passing second. His breath brushes your ear as he leans closer. “Are you afraid of me?”

You flinch but say nothing, and he chuckles. It’s low and guttural, almost amused, but there’s an edge of cruelty there, a promise that he’ll savor every inch of your fear.

He feeds on it, you realize, and the thought sends a chill racing down your spine. “You should be,” he murmurs, the words dripping like venom. “Fear keeps you alive… but not from me. Never from me.”

He lies, of course.

The predator in him is far too obvious, a wolf cloaked in something barely resembling humanity. He doesn’t see you as prey to consume in haste.

No, he sees you as a possession—a rare, precious thing to break slowly, to shatter and rebuild in his image. He thrives on control, on the knowledge that every shiver, every gasp, every cry is something he owns, something he’s dragged out of you inch by agonizing inch.

When he finally touches you, it’s with the precision of a surgeon dissecting his subject. Fingers glide over your skin like scalpels, drawing phantom lines where his teeth will follow, where his hands will linger. There’s no tenderness in the way he grips your wrist, the bruising force of his palm a warning, a declaration.

He doesn’t need to speak for you to understand: you’re his.

The room is suffused with a kind of tension that seems alive, thrumming in the air like an electrical charge waiting to snap. His lips curl into something that might resemble a smile if not for the sheer malice in it.

“You can fight,” he says, voice as smooth and cold as glass, “but we both know how this ends.”

And then he moves, swift as a predator pouncing, pinning you against the unyielding surface of the wall.

The impact drives the air from your lungs, and before you can catch your breath, he’s there—everywhere. The heat of his body seeps into yours, the solidity of him a cage that leaves no room for escape. His hands are firm, unrelenting, roaming with a kind of obsessive thoroughness that feels both maddening and humiliating. He maps every inch of your body as if it’s a territory to be conquered, claimed.

The words he whispers into your ear are sharp, biting things, designed to slice through your defenses. “Do you know how easy it would be?” he breathes, his voice a silken thread woven with danger.

“To tear you apart. To ruin you so thoroughly you wouldn’t even recognize yourself. And you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you? By the time I’m done, you won’t want to remember what it felt like to be whole without me.”

His grip tightens, and you can feel the latent strength in his hands, the power that could snap bone without effort.

And yet he doesn’t.

Not yet.

He revels in the anticipation, in the way your body reacts—fear mingled with something darker, something you refuse to name. The way your breath catches, the way your pulse races beneath his fingers… it’s a symphony to him, a melody of submission he’s determined to conduct to its crescendo.

When he finally takes you, it’s not an act of love—it’s an act of dominance, of ownership.

His movements are deliberate, almost cruel in their precision, each thrust a reminder of who holds the reins. He doesn’t allow you to close your eyes, doesn’t let you escape into the safety of darkness.

No, he demands your gaze, demands that you see him, that you acknowledge the monster who has reduced you to this trembling, gasping wreck. And when you do—when your eyes meet his, wide and glassy with tears—he smiles. Not with joy, but with triumph, with the satisfaction of a hunter who has cornered his prey.

His words during these moments are a mix of degradation and adoration, a twisted litany that leaves no doubt of his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growls against your skin, the heat of his breath searing like a brand. “Every breath, every scream, every drop of blood in your veins—it all belongs to me.”

And yet, even as he tears you apart, there’s an undeniable allure in his madness, a magnetic pull that keeps you rooted to the spot even as every instinct screams at you to run.

Because beneath the cruelty, beneath the overwhelming force of his obsession, there’s a flicker of something more—a need so desperate it borders on pathetic, a craving for connection that he can’t voice but demands nonetheless.

When it’s over, he doesn’t release you.

His arms remain locked around you, a vice that refuses to loosen. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ragged, his body still trembling with the aftermath.

And in that moment, you realize the truth of it: he doesn’t break you because he hates you. He breaks you because he loves you, because the thought of you existing without him is unbearable.

But love, for him, is not soft or kind. It is a blade, honed to a deadly edge, and he wields it without mercy.

“You’ll stay,” he whispers, and it’s not a question.

It’s a command, a promise, a threat.

“You’ll stay because there’s nowhere else for you to go. No one else who could ever understand you the way I do. And if you try to leave…” His voice trails off, but the unspoken consequence hangs heavy in the air, a silent vow etched in blood.

You nod, because what else can you do?

And as he tightens his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple in a mockery of a kiss, you feel the full weight of your reality settle over you.

There is no escape. There never was.

And in the dark recesses of your mind, a small, terrified part of you wonders if you’ll ever want to leave at all.

♡ Anaxa.

"You think you can escape my mind, but you're already tangled in my thoughts—your every breath, every movement, is an echo of me. You belong to me, and I will never let you forget that."

The air around him was always cold, as if reality itself recoiled in his presence, drawing its warmth into the void of his indifference. Anaxa moved like an unfinished thought, fragmented, deliberate, yet ever disquieting.

You felt his shadow linger before you saw him, a chilling weight that settled on your skin like frost, sinking into the marrow of your bones. His eyes—one bared to the world, the other concealed beneath the eyepatch—were an unforgiving tapestry of contradictions: icy intellect simmering beneath the calm veneer, an endless labyrinth of thoughts that spiraled toward madness.

He whispered your name like a sacrament and a curse. Each syllable, spoken in that low, velvety cadence of his, seemed to unravel you, a knife peeling back every layer of resolve.

"You think knowledge can shield you," he murmured one night, his breath as cold and intimate as the edge of a scalpel. "But even wisdom has limits. I’ve seen them. I’ve transcended them." He would circle you like a predator savoring the hunt, his movements calculated, his proximity suffocating.

Anaxa was not a man who shattered the soul through brute force.

No, his torment was subtle—a slow dismantling, piece by piece, until you became something unrecognizable to even yourself.

You didn’t notice how he had claimed your life until it was too late. The quiet manipulation seeped in like poison—so gradual, so insidious, you mistook it for safety. Every book you touched, every whisper of thought you dared to express, every step you took outside the prison he called your sanctuary…all of it traced back to him. You'd look up from a page of text only to find him leaning in the doorway, a slight smile curling his lips, the sort that spoke of secrets too profound and too damning to voice.

"You have such a beautiful mind," he'd say, his gloved fingers brushing the side of your neck in a touch that was almost reverent.

"It’s wasted on anyone else. They’ll never understand you—not like I do." The words were honeyed, dripping with a sincerity so intoxicating you almost believed it.

Almost.

Until you noticed the way his gaze lingered on your trembling hands, on the ink smudges on your skin, on the way you recoiled yet stayed rooted in place. He liked the way fear made you fragile, and though you hated him for it, you hated yourself more for the flicker of thrill that bloomed in your chest.

Anaxa didn’t need chains to hold you down; his words alone were shackles. His intelligence was a web, intricate and all-encompassing, and you were the fly ensnared at its center.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he whispered once, late into the night when the room was too quiet and his voice was too close. "But I will, if it’s the only way to make you stay."

And you knew he meant it—not as a threat, but as a promise, a truth spoken with the same certainty as an immutable law of the universe.

The moments of intimacy—if one could call them that—were no less haunting.

His touch was clinical, precise, like a scientist studying a fragile specimen. He knew where to press, where to hold, where to carve into your soul with a calculated cruelty that left you yearning and dreading in equal measure.

His lips on your skin felt like frostbite, burning cold yet addictively sharp. His hands, those hands that wielded intellect like a blade, seemed to map every inch of you with the precision of a scholar dissecting sacred scripture.

"You’re beautiful," he would say, the words an oxymoron of tenderness and possession.

"Beautiful because you’re broken. Broken because you’re mine." He traced the curve of your throat with a gloved fingertip, lingering on the places where your pulse betrayed your terror.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could peel back the layers of flesh and bone to reach the essence of you. "Do you know what the Titans whispered to me in my dreams?" he asked once, his voice a mix of wonder and madness.

"They said I’d find divinity in ruin. And here you are."

The nights were the worst.

In the darkness, you felt him even when you didn’t see him.

The weight of his presence pressed against you, suffocating, inescapable. His words would echo in your mind, winding through your thoughts like a parasite. He’d appear at your bedside, his figure shrouded in the dim glow of moonlight.

"You should sleep," he’d murmur, though his tone carried no warmth. "You’ll need your strength. Tomorrow, we’ll unravel the secrets of the cosmos. Together."

And though you tried to resist, you found yourself clinging to the edges of his words, desperate for the clarity he promised, even as it led you deeper into his labyrinth.

When he finally claimed you, it was an act of calculated brutality disguised as love.

Every kiss felt like a conquest, every caress a branding. He whispered to you like a poet reciting his magnum opus, his voice soft yet unyielding, every syllable carrying the weight of his obsession.

"You belong to me," he said, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands pinned you beneath him. "Not just your body. Your mind. Your soul. Everything. No one else is worthy—not even you."

And as his touch became more demanding, more consuming, you realized that he wasn’t just unraveling you. He was recreating you, piece by piece, reshaping you into something that existed solely for him.

And though every fiber of your being screamed in defiance, a small, treacherous part of you wondered if this was love—or if it was something far darker, something that transcended the bounds of human understanding.

"You’ll never leave me," he said, his voice a blend of certainty and desperation as his lips ghosted over your trembling skin.

"Even if you try, even if you run…I’ll always find you. You’re the only constant in my chaos, the only light in my darkness. And I will burn the stars themselves before I let that light fade."

And so, you lay there in the cold embrace of his obsession, trapped between terror and desire, caught in the orbit of a man who would dismantle the heavens just to keep you by his side.

♡ Phainon.

"Every strike I make, every victory I win—it’s all for you. So don't be afraid when you see the blood. It's just a little sacrifice to remind you: you're mine, and I will burn this world to the ground before I let you go."

The moments he craves most are the quiet ones when the two of you are entirely alone, but tonight, silence isn’t kind.

It’s oppressive, weighted by the looming presence of the man before you—the Deliverer, the Nameless Hero, a man who wears the name Phainon like an armor of light.

Yet beneath that golden radiance, a storm of obsession churns, relentless and unyielding.

He stands over you, the faint luminescence of his ichor-stained veins pulsing faintly in the dim, cold air of the temple chamber. You can feel his gaze before you see it—heavy, glinting with something raw and unspeakable.

His voice, when it finally breaks the silence, is soft but unshakable, carrying the weight of a promise that makes your blood run cold.

“You don’t understand, do you? You’ve never understood.” A smile curls at the edge of his lips, serene yet terrifying. “I don’t want to save the world, not anymore. I want to save you. Every step I’ve taken, every blow I’ve struck, has always been for you.”

His claymore rests at his side, its edge gleaming faintly with an unsettling crimson, dried remnants of the battle from earlier still clinging to the blade.

He hasn’t cleaned it.

He hasn’t even sheathed it.

The weapon is as much a part of him as the air he breathes.

You can’t help but wonder if the blood that stains it belongs to someone you knew, someone who once stood too close to you for his liking.

He takes a step closer, the sound of his boots against the stone floor echoing like the toll of a funeral bell.

You back away instinctively, but there’s no escape.

His pace is slow, deliberate. He knows exactly how far he needs to push you before your resolve shatters.

“Run if you want to,” he murmurs, his tone almost gentle. “I won’t stop you. But you’ll come back. You always do.”

There’s no malice in his words, only certainty—a chilling, inescapable truth that wraps around your throat like a noose.

His hands are stained too.

Not visibly, not this time, but you can feel it in the way he reaches for you.

Fingers meant for wielding destruction now hover over your cheek, trembling slightly with restraint.

You flinch, and the flicker of hurt that crosses his face is almost human—almost.

“You’re afraid of me,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your ear as he leans closer.

“And I... I hate that. I hate that you make me this way. But I hate it even more when you’re far from me.”

When his lips press against yours, it isn’t a kiss—it’s a conquest.

His desperation seeps into you like venom, intoxicating and suffocating all at once. He tastes like metal and fury, his ichor burning faintly where his tongue grazes yours. His touch isn’t tender; it’s possessive, frantic, like he’s trying to carve his existence into your very bones.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp, and the sound only seems to spur him on. “You’re mine,” he growls against your lips, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous timbre. “Say it.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

And that’s when his patience snaps.

His grip tightens, dragging you against him until there’s no space left between your bodies. The heat of him is overwhelming, a furnace of ichor and madness that threatens to consume you whole. His other hand presses against the small of your back, forcing you to arch into him as he lowers his head to your neck.

His breath is hot against your skin, and when he speaks again, it’s a guttural rasp that makes your stomach twist. “You don’t understand how far I’d go for you. What I’d destroy. Who I’d become.”

He sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, not enough to break the skin but enough to leave a mark—a brand, a reminder of his claim. You cry out, and he exhales sharply, almost like he’s savoring the sound.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s the truth of it, isn’t it? You’ll scream for me, cry for me... but you’ll never leave.”

And he’s right, isn’t he?

Because even now, as fear and anger coil in your chest like a viper, you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

His presence is suffocating, his obsession terrifying—but there’s something about the way he looks at you, like you’re the sun in a world of endless night, that makes it impossible to resist him entirely.

It’s sick.

It’s wrong.

But it’s real.

Phainon knows it too.

He knows you better than you know yourself, and that knowledge is his greatest weapon.

He wields it with precision, unraveling you piece by piece until there’s nothing left but the parts of you that belong to him.

“You’ll stay,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’ll always stay. Because no one else can have you. Not the Titans, not the Trailblazer... not even yourself.”

When he finally pulls away, his eyes lock onto yours, glowing faintly with the golden ichor that courses through his veins. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about him in this moment, a tragic god draped in shadows. He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s just solved.

“You’re mine,” he says again, softer this time. “And I’m yours. Whether you like it or not.”

And you believe him.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @belovedoftheanemoarchon , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud , @songbirdgardensworld , @monamuskay

———

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[bqstqnbruin]

Always the Bridesmaid

I'm interrupting my regularly scheduled programming (again)(please read this series) with a fic that I came up with when I was writing a happy ending for @laurenairay, which, considering that is weird for me, I had to balance out the universe with this fic instead.

This is reader insert and for the most part the reader is gender neutral, but does present societally more feminine (mention of doing their hair and makeup, wearing a dress).

Have fun!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, I was mean to Quinn

WC: 5528

______________

You were always told falling in love with someone would take every part of your heart and have you give it to someone else. Falling in love was supposed to be a whirlwind of joy, sadness, anxiety, excitement, fear, happiness, pain, and bliss. Your parents made you believe that loving someone meant your life would change, hopefully for the better, and you would be able to share your life with someone who wasn’t supposed to leave. 

He told you he was taking you out for dinner, to be ready when he got home. You knew you were going to one of the fancier restaurants in town, taking special care to do your hair so not a strand was out of place, do your makeup just the way you liked it, and wearing your favorite outfit that you took the time to steam the wrinkles out of so that you didn’t look like you had spent the entire day rotting on the couch, even though you did.

You knew what he was going to ask.

____________________

“What are you doing right now?” Quinn’s head pokes through your bedroom window, your boyfriend climbing into your room, trying not to laugh as he struggles to bend the right way to make it through without getting hurt.

You turn the page in your book, not bothering to look up. “I’m in the middle of taking over Poland,” you deadpan as he makes his way over to your bed, plopping himself down at your feet. “One day, you’re going to break your leg or something doing that.”

Quinn’s bedroom in your respective family’s lake house’s was opposite yours, allowing the two of you to see what the other was doing whenever the curtains were open. Since you were younger, that was your signal to each other that they could come over. You thought it would involve using the front doors, but Quinn took it as an excuse to truly act like a twelve year old, despite being older than that, and makeshift a ladder from the tree that was right there. 

He grinned at you, leaning against the wall and starting to fiddle with the fringe of the blanket sitting at the foot of your bed. “I want to go do something.”

“We haven’t even been here for seventy two hours and I’m pretty sure you’ve been active for seventy of them.”

“Please,” he whines, leaning over so that his body is parallel with yours. You try to ignore him as you attempt to focus on your book, feeling his eyes practically pierce your shin. “I want to go for a walk.”

“If you can scale the side of this house, I’m sure you can do that just fine.”

“I want company.”

“You have two brothers.”

“They’re asleep.”

“We both know if either of them wanted something from you, they would not hesitate to wake you up.” 

“But I want you to come with me.” You put your bookmark in to save your space, giving him an unimpressed look. “Please? How often do we get to do things where it’s just us?” He takes your hand in his, the calluses on his hands from using his stick in his driveway back home without his gloves surprisingly soothing to you. You roll your eyes, Quinn nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as you can’t help but smile.

You pull him off the bed, your book all but forgotten, Quinn trailing you like a love-sick puppy.

____________________

You got ready way earlier than you needed to be, anxiously pacing around your apartment you shared with him. You could see him in every corner; it was his apartment first that you had eventually moved into. The furniture was all his, the decorations that were there were chosen by someone he paid rather than the two of you picking it out yourselves like you wanted, even the books in the bookcases weren’t ones you picked; half of them were just for show, those coffee table books on topics you didn’t care about, but looked impressive to those who didn’t know either of you. 

____________________

“This is how you decorate?”

You roll your eyes at him as he flops on your bed. As usual, Quinn was being no help to anything, but it was your first time being with each other since you left for college. “I’m going to be here for a year, why do more?”

“You don’t even have a picture of us in here.” He sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap. He kisses the top of your head, you letting your eyes flutter closed as you exhale against him, curled into his chest.

“My roommate keeps bringing guys back,” you tell him. “Four of them would see a picture of you and ask me to send you their highlights.” Quinn burst out laughing, throwing his head back and sending a shiver through your body. You missed hearing him in person, being with him and being able to touch him. 

You missed him. 

You pull away from him slightly to kiss him, his hands tightening, bunching up your shirt in his fists. Thank god your roommate was away this weekend.

“Leave room for Jesus,” one of your friends barges in, Quinn practically launching you off him. You could feel the heat rush to your face, convinced it was visible from space by the smirk on the intruder's face. “Party tonight at Kappa house.”

You exchange a look with Quinn, trying to get a read on his face before looking back at your friend. “Ok?”

“Are you two coming?”

Quinn shrugs, leaning back on your bed, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin that made  your heart race. That stupid smirk on his face told you his answer. “Sure.” 

Your friend squeals, launching into talking about you borrowing clothing, getting ready, making sure all three of you look as fantastic as possible for what was all, apparently, your first college frat party. 

Two hours later, you were in a different room down the hall, pre-gaming, cringing as your friend thrust a shot of rosé wine into your hand, immediately following it up with raspberry vodka. You nearly gagged after downing the combination that never should have existed, looking at the disgusted look on Quinn’s face that mirrored your own. “I wish I never drank that,” he sputters out, sticking his tongue out as if the air around him would get rid of whatever that lingering taste was. 

“I’m never drinking vodka again.”

Quinn shrugs. “You never liked it much anyway.” You look at him for a second, not sure if you were unable to see the connection he was trying to make because you genuinely didn’t know, or if the horrible alcohol was somehow already fogging your brain. “Remember a few summers ago when some of our hockey friends came up to visit? They brought vodka and you hated it.”

“Was that the night I fell asleep in your bed and your parents freaked out when they found us?”

“It was the night you fell asleep in the bathtub with Jack, actually.”

You cringe, biting your bottom lip, wishing that he hadn’t brought that night up. Nothing happened between you and his brother, but it was easy to see why Quinn was annoyed at the sight of the two of you. Actually, you remember telling him nothing happened, because nothing did. So why did he get mad at it? “Why would you bring that up?” 

Quinn shrugs, turning his attention to the group of guys cheering on another as he shotgun a can of beer. “Just made me think of it.” 

____________________

He texted you that he was downstairs, ready to pick you up, just as you agreed he would do that morning. He was late coming back from practice, letting you know that he took the time to get ready at the practice facility so he wouldn’t have to come up and do it. 

You felt yourself exhale, the anxiety in your chest dissipating ever so slightly. Him being downstairs gave you more time before you had to see him.

You didn’t want to see him.

____________________

“I want to see you, though.” 

You roll your eyes, thankful that Quinn called you instead of Facetimed you, knowing he would get upset over your reaction. You were having this conversation for the fifth time now, Quinn begging you to come see him when you told him it wasn’t possible. “I have four exams this week and I have a job interview. I need to be here.” 

“Where’s the job?”

You hesitate for a second, trying to figure out if you should lie or not. “New Jersey.” Quinn doesn’t say anything. “Q?”

“I thought you were applying for jobs here?”

“I am,” you say quickly, “But I need a job after graduation, regardless of where it is. I can’t move to Vancouver if I don’t have a job, too.” 

“I can take care of both of us.” 

You let out a loud sigh, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I don’t want you to have to ‘take care of me,’ Quinn, I can do it myself.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“And what happens if we break up?” you snap. “What happens when you and I aren’t together anymore and I have nothing because you controlled everything? I’ll have no job, no experience, nothing to fall back on and I’m screwed.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything for too long, your heartbeat getting faster with every second he was silent. You didn’t know you were afraid of that. “You think we’re going to break up?” he finally asks, his voice barely audible. 

“Quinn,” you start.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re right. You don’t want to bank on us being together forever.”

“Quinn,” you try again.

“Hey, I have to head to the arena, and you have to study. I’ll talk to you later.” 

The line goes silent before you can say anything else. You check the time, taking into account the time difference. You knew Quinn’s game-day schedule. He still had two more hours before he had to leave. 

____________________

You get downstairs, seeing your boyfriend leaning against his car. He was in a suit, one you hadn’t seen before. He bought a new one for tonight. It fit him well; you could see the curve of every part of his body, every crevice that you knew by heart, everything that was stashed in his pockets outlined. You could see the box in his pant pocket. 

He was looking down at his phone, a lock of his hair falling into his eye without even hearing you coming towards him. That sight of him used to make your heart skip a beat. 

He finally looks up, the grin on his face growing with every step you took towards him. He shoves his phone in his pocket, pulling you in for a kiss. His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressed to yours, you praying he doesn’t notice the slight sweat you felt forming over your entire body. 

He opens the car door for you, running around to get into the driver seat and take you into the city.

“You are gorgeous,” he breathes out, his hand resting on your thigh as he drives.

____________________

You stare at your phone, praying that someone would email you or call you. If you watched your phone enough, you could will them into getting back to you, right?

“You’re next,” your cousin’s hand finds your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin. “God, ok.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, putting your phone down and getting in the makeup chair. The person your cousin hired to do the bridal party makeup was talking to you about what you wanted, you barely paying attention while your mind wandered, trying not to be rude and check your notifications every time your phone screen lit up. 

“What’s with you?”

You look to your left, the makeup artist turning your head back toward them. “I’m supposed to be hearing back from that job,” you tell her.

“So why do you look like you want to throw up?”

You hesitate, a text from Quinn showing up on your screen to let you know that he was almost ready to head to the wedding venue. 

“Because it’s my dream job, but,” your voice trails off. She eyes you, the look on her face burning a hole in the side of your face. “It’s not in Vancouver.”

She nods. “So it’s not near Quinn.” 

“It’s in New Jersey.” 

“Are you going to take it if you get it?”

You exhale. The job was everything you wanted; in the field you studied in college, in a great place where you didn’t have to spend what felt like millions on rent, the people seemed great, the benefits were perfect.

It was just in the wrong country. 

“You know what? You’ve just graduated, we’re getting ready for my wedding, and your boyfriend is out there probably thinking about the day that this is the two of you, instead. Relax.” 

Before you could give an answer, it was time for you to get your hair done, your cousin being whisked away by the photographer to start getting some pictures taken. You didn’t even have an answer. 

Your phone buzzes, another text from Quinn, a new email in your inbox. 

You don’t check it, your thoughts lost in the whirlwind that became getting ready to join your cousin to walk down the aisle to who was supposed to be the love of her life. 

The bridal party ahead of you starts to enter, your cousin behind you pacing while the music continues to play. She calmed you down before when she was the one who was supposed to be anxious. What could you do now? 

You walk forward, the aisle seeming much longer than it did during the rehearsal dinner considering you were now in much higher heels, with makeup that you hoped wasn’t running down your face from the heat you felt. 

You catch Quinn sitting by himself, the smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

You felt yourself calm down, all the worries you had melting away as you headed toward the altar. 

You wanted to be walking toward him, to see him waiting for you, ready to tell everyone you cared about that you wanted to be together forever.

The entire wedding went by in a blur, your conscience focused entirely on you picturing yourself with Quinn standing at the altar.

When you finally get the chance to check your phone on the way to the reception, the email notification sits on your screen, unanswered. You open the app, your heart racing. 

‘Good morning, we are pleased to offer you the position…” 

____________________

The two of you fall into mundane conversation once you’re seated. He had asked for a table away from everyone, off to the side where the two of you had privacy, just as the two of you had liked it. You felt awkward being in the middle of any restaurant; he hated having people stare at him because they were sure they knew who he was and spent the entire time gaping at him once they realized who he was.

He asks about your day, about your job. 

You relay to him the events of the day, just as you did every single day the two of you had time to sit down and eat together. It was the same conversation every time, yet he seemed to love to hear about it. 

“I remember when I was excited about this job.”

“Do you still want to quit?” 

____________________

“How do we manage this?” Quinn’s voice comes through your phone, an exasperated plea. 

You hesitate, trying to figure out what to say. “I have no clue,” you admit. “Do we try long distance?”

Quinn sighs, the sound of his car starting up in the background. “We’ve been doing that for the last four years. Do we really want to keep doing it like this?”

Silence comes from you again, this conversation going exactly how you thought it would; neither of you sure what you wanted to do. 

Your dream job made you an offer that you couldn’t refuse. Your boyfriend was on the other side of the continent in another country. You couldn’t do both.

“It’s that or we aren’t together anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to take this job?” Quinn’s voice cuts you off before you can say more.

“Quinn.” 

“Is this job this important to you? Did you try to look for something near here?”

“You know that it is and you know that I did,” you reply, your tone getting defensive. “I’m supposed to be meeting my friends tonight and I still need to get ready,” you lie to him, giving yourself the best out you could. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

You pace around your apartment, pulling up the email chain with the offer letter attached. It was everything you could want. It just wasn’t close enough to the person you wanted. 

You end up falling asleep on your couch, waking up in pain from the angle you somehow thought was comfortable the night before, with someone pounding on the door to be let in. Your phone starts buzzing, your brain barely functioning to register anything other than the time, almost noon.

“I’m coming, calm down,” you rasp, hoping the banging would subside. “Quinn?”

“I can’t have this conversation with you over the phone,” he barges in, pushing past you. 

“How did you get here?” 

“I took the first flight out.” He sits down on the couch you were just asleep on, making no comment of your obviously disheveled state. “We can’t break up. I love you and I don’t want us to break up.” 

You sit down next to him. “I love you, too.”

“Do you want to break up?” he asks, panic in his voice. You study him for a second, knowing that the silence you were giving him wasn’t settling him in any way. He was clearly exhausted; his skin was more pale than normal, his hair poking in every direction possible. The bags under his eyes were darker than you had ever seen him, and you’ve seen him after he pulled an all nighter for a final, running only on energy drinks, french fries, and pure hope that he would pass the exam that morning. 

“I don’t want to,” you start, your voice trailing off. “But, Quinn, this job.”

“Marry me.”

You jolt back. “What?”

“Marry me. Don’t worry about the job. You don’t have to worry about anything. I want to be with you and I know you want to be with me.”

“Quinn,” you scoff, a laugh bubbling into your voice. “We can’t get married.”

____________________

“You could easily find a job somewhere else, though, right? If you wanted to?” he asks.

You nod. “But it was already overwhelming trying to figure everything out when I first started. Do I really want to do that again?”

____________________

“How are you settling in?” Quinn’s question made your heart ache, the first time you’re talking to him since you moved only able to be a few minutes over Facetime. “Has Jack helped you?”

You let out a laugh. “You know he’s only helped eat my food.” Quinn’s laugh matches yours, a tightness in your chest at the sound. “I miss you.”

Quinn lets out a sigh, closing his eyes. “I miss you, too.” Both of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, you looking away to pretend to continue unpacking. You were still trying to find everything in the boxes you hastily packed up, the start date your job provided you only giving you a week to pack and find a new place. Everything was in unlabelled boxes and just thrown together, meaning you were finding multiple pairs of underwear mixed into a box of dishes and books. “I wish we didn’t have to break up.”

You feel a sob creeping up your throat, the same sentiment you had being verbalized by the one person you wished didn’t feel the same. If this were a clean break, everything would be so much easier. If it were a clean break it would be easier to get over and move on. If it were a clean break, then you wouldn’t have what you were sure was a permanent pit in your stomach telling you that this was the wrong choice.

Before you can answer, someone knocks on your door. “Um, I’m gonna go. I think that’s Jack or Luke. They said they were going to come and help today.”

“Tell them to behave.”

You force a smirk through the tears that were brimming in your eyes. “We know they won’t.” You say your goodbyes, the tears finally falling down your cheeks when you open your door. “Oh, Nico,” you sniffle, Jack and Luke’s teammate standing in your doorway without the two boys who were supposed to be there. 

Nico’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?” he takes a small step towards you, gently resting his hands on your arms. His attempt at comfort sends a shiver through your body, the attempt to hide your physical recoiling at his touch unsuccessful. It wasn’t one of disgust, it was more out of shock. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” you tell him, tugging his sleeve to pull him into your apartment. “I’m just,” you hesitate. Telling an attractive guy that you were crying over your ex seemed like a bad idea. Especially when that ex is the brother of two of this guy's closest friends. “I’m overwhelmed from unpacking.” 

Nico nods, looking around at the mess of boxes that are cluttered in what is supposed to be your living room. “When was the last time you ate?”

You stop and think, checking your phone to see it was closer to dinner than any other normal meal time. “Yesterday?”

  “Come on.” Nico holds out his hand to you, ignoring the uncertain look on your face. “Jack and Luke asked me to come because they’re doing god knows what, and we both know dealing with them when you’re hungry is going to end up with one of them dangling from that window by their sock.”

You can’t help but laugh knowing that you and Quinn have done something like that to Luke when you were younger over the summer. There’s a reason there’s now a small balcony outside Quinn’s window. The thought of you and Quinn makes your heart hurt again, the threat of tears coming back.

“Hey,” Nico’s voice goes soft, pulling you into a hug. You melt into him, the comfort of his cologne making you exhale. “Whatever it is, you’ll be ok.” 

____________________

“Remember that one wedding we went to, one of your college friends?” he reaches across the table to take your hand, his voice shaking as he abruptly changes the subject. He waits for you to nod. “Do you think about what it would be for us to get married?”

As soon as you hear the words starting to form in his mouth, you grab your water with your free hand, gulping it down to give yourself time. “Um, yeah,” you lie.

____________________

“Jack, you fucking idiot,” you scold him, grabbing the napkins and trying to get as much red wine off your white shirt as you could. It’s your fault, really. You’ve known Jack long enough to know how dangerous of a color it is to wear around him. 

“I’ll grab you something to wear,” Nico mumbles, glaring at his teammate. He heads to his room, the base of his neck turning bright red as he walks away. 

Jack looks sorry, giving you a puppy-dog pout that you were all too used to from your childhood. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. Nico comes back with a sweatshirt, a Devils logo and the number 13 on the breast for you to throw on while you’re here. He plants a kiss on the side of your head once you pull it on, sitting down next to you. 

The rest of the night passes by, Jack spilling two more drinks all over Nico’s table that made Nico send his teammate home.

You settle in his bed, letting out an exhale as you sink into the soft mattress. Nico comes into his room, your shirt in hand. He tried his best to get the stain out.

“I think it’s a lost cause,” he tells you, tossing the shirt into his hamper. “I’ll see if the cleaners can get it out when I bring my suits in next time.” 

“I know better than to wear white around a Hughes brother,” you joke, Nico climbing in next to you and pulling you close.

You hear him sigh, tucking his arm under his head as he lays down. “Do you still miss him?”

The silence between you two is palpable. You never talk about your past with Quinn, awkwardly dancing around the subject whenever he inevitably gets brought up. You weren’t completely over him, but how could you tell your boyfriend that? You lived here, Quinn was in Vancouver. “I miss my friendship with him.”

It wasn’t totally a lie. Even before you started dating Quinn, he was your best friend. Now, you could barely talk to each other. 

“I get that,” you hear him say, not without you noticing the strangled tone in his voice.

Your phone buzzes, Jack tagging you and Nico in a story from your dinner, captioning it ‘taken moments before disaster (myself) struck.’ You can’t help by laugh, showing Nico the post. He smiles, the two of you taking in the photo. The way Nico looks at you makes your heart flutter. He loves you. You know he does. And you do love him. 

You look at the time, the late hour making you groan. “Ugh, fuck.” 

“What?”

“I’m only going to get, like, three hours of sleep if I want to make it home in time to get ready for work.”

“Why don’t you move in here?” Your head whips to him, feeling a pain in your neck, trying to hide your wince so that Nico doesn’t think you hate his idea. “I mean, you spend more time sleeping here than you do at your actual place.”

“Are you serious?”

Nico smiles, pulling you in for a kiss. “Of course.”

You mirror his smile. “Yeah.”

You eventually fall asleep, an excited feeling about a new chapter in yours and Nico’s relationship keeping you awake. 

When your alarm finally goes off, you let out a groan, Nico stirring beside you as he wakes up with you, despite not needing to. You see a text on your phone, sent not long after you went to bed.

It was from Quinn.

‘Does he at least make you happy?’

____________________

Nico is clearly nervous, his free hand rubbing against his thigh. You can feel the sweat forming on his hand in yours. “We’ve been together for how many years now? Three?” You nod. “I love you.” 

____________________

Every time Vancouver came to play in New Jersey, Ellen and Jim insist on you joining them to watch the game. They think of you like a daughter, despite the hopes of you actually joining their family dwindling down to nothing with every year that passes by with you staying in New Jersey.

Of you staying with Nico rather than Quinn. 

It doesn’t get easier any time you see Quinn. According to a drunken Jack, Quinn still loves you. You know you love Nico, but can you also still have feelings for Quinn? 

The Hughes parents weren’t there yet, you sitting alone as the two teams come out onto the ice for warmups. You see Quinn, the sight of him making your heart skip a beat, even after all these years of falling in love with Nico. He looks like he’s zoning out while skating in a circle around nothing, his stick in both his hands parallel with the ice. You know him well enough to know that this is how way of focusing, reviewing everything he could remember about the game tapes he had spent the last few days studying, as if this weren’t the third time this season he was playing against his brothers.

Against your boyfriend. 

The three brothers meet at center ice, taking a picture as they did before every game, the tradition somehow never losing its magic and never getting skipped over no matter how many meetings the two teams had. You feel your anxiety go up when Nico skates over and joins them, the smile on Nico’s face not being matched in the slightest by Quinn. 

The last time you saw Quinn, it was like you were two strangers who were forced together by accident, rather than being two people who grew up with each other, who knew everything about each other. His sentences and comments to you were short, his eyes never meeting yours.The only thing he said that really mattered to you was him telling you he wasn’t sure he would ever stop loving you.

You didn’t remember how that even came up.You had been talking about the wedding you were in, one of your friends from college getting married a few months before yours and Quinn’s last meeting. Quinn was invited, but, according to Jack, he couldn’t get himself to go once he saw you were in the wedding party. 

Your phone buzzes, a text from your boss. You can’t help but let out a groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him texting you on a Friday night when he knew you were at the game.

You skim the message, hoping that it was something that you could ignore for a few hours until you and Nico got home that night. One word catches your eye, causing you to choke on the sharp breath you took in. 

‘Vancouver’ is right there, your boss telling you that there was an opening in your company’s office there, that you would be perfect for it, that you would get a higher salary, a relocation fee, the company would take care of everything you needed to have you move to Canada.

You would be near Quinn. 

You let your boss know that you would think about it, reminding him that you were out with your friends at the game, just as you told him that morning. He sends back a simple thumbs up, as if that was a good enough reaction to letting you know that your dream job just got better. 

The Hughes finally join you right as the anthems begin, pulling you in for hugs. The game begins, your attention anywhere by the actual game. You were facing the ice, but your mind was back to your phone. During the intermissions, you’re completely anti-social, looking at the application your boss sent you that you would need to fill out. He was right, you were perfect for the job.

The game ends, you heading down with the parents to see the guys, Quinn the first one out. He talks to his parents, you awkwardly standing off to the side. 

He finally acknowledges you when his brothers come out of their locker room.

“So, how are you?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground. 

“Good. You?”

“Good. How’s the job?”

“Good,” you let out. “There’s an opening in our Vancouver office,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Quinn’s eyes light up, the smile on his face one that you hadn’t seen from him in a while. It made you smile. “Really? Are you going to take it?”

You sigh, the smile melting from your face. “I’m not sure yet. I would have to move. I would have to figure out Visa’s and everything. I would have to figure out things with,” your voice trails off, both of you knowing what you meant without you saying it. “Nico.”

Your boyfriend appears behind Quinn, a sudden panic coursing through you. You remember the idea of being away from Quinn tearing you apart inside, the thought making you sick. The idea of being away from Nico didn’t have that same effect. 

____________________

“Will you marry me?” He asks, the look on his face hopeful and nervous while he waits for your answer. 

You hesitate, knowing that he was panicking, hating that you made him feel that way. Your phone buzzes with a text from your boss before you can answer, your eyes flicking down to the screen. ‘Still interested in Vancouver?’ You hadn’t told Nico you applied for the job. You told yourself you didn’t want it that much but that it wouldn’t hurt to apply. Seeing Quinn keping coming up in your mind each time you lied to yourself, how you would be back in the same city as him. 

You still love Quinn.

“No.” 

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

[angellekookie]

Always Been There | MYG - PART 1.

Summary: Ever since the new kid moved into your cousin's old house, your life has been different.

Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, (half-sided) Academic Rivals to Lovers, it's romance- fluffy romance, maybe cliché (this is a warning)

WC: 5.1 K

Other Tags: Friend! Teahyung (mentioned), Cousin! Seokjin (mentioned)

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol consumption, Idk if I missed any, but let me know.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

You never perceived yourself as a competitive child. You were usually quiet and reserved, often opting to be engaged in any book, watch television or play the occasional video game with your older cousin, Seokjin, who lived just down the street. This all changed one summer when your uncle got a new job in Seoul and had to move. Obviously, you missed him, he was your favourite cousin, your best friend. So every day you’d walk to your uncle’s old house hoping he’d come back from his new job and bring Seokjin home with him.

Days melted into weeks and the “For Sale” sign on the gate seemed to get bigger and bigger as if it existed solely to mock you. Or maybe it only appeared ten times the size because you stared at it so often, studying it, willing anything to change.

Summer's end brought you an initially pleasant surprise. This time, when you walked to Jin's house you saw people going back and forth taking boxes from a moving truck. Obviously, you thought that the day couldn’t get any better, your young mind not even considering that it could actually get worse.

Excitement led your feet through the gate and inside the yard where you saw a boy with his back turned to you. He appeared a bit shorter than how you remembered your cousin, but excitement didn’t let you think on that too much. Besides, surely you grew in the last few months, of course Jin wouldn’t look as tall to you any more.

The next five seconds happened both breathtakingly fast and painstakingly slow. The next five seconds changed what you thought was the best day of your life to the single worst day of your entire existence.

One second you were running towards your “cousin,” the next second you were making an unplanned descent, landing at the feet of who you later discovered was the son of your new neighbours.

At eight years old, maybe you still believed that kindness was the default setting of the world and expected the same from the boy looking down at you with his pale, chubby face. But whether it was disgust on his face, disdain—or maybe perhaps you were lucky and he just didn’t care—you didn’t know. What you did know was that you had to leave and you had to leave immediately.

That evening your parents barely managed to console you after you came home crying with a bruised kneecap. You were silent all through dinner and hardly gave any attention to what they were saying about inviting people somewhere and someone close in age. You had enough on your plate already with trying to forget the sheer embarrassment you had endured earlier in what you had once considered a safe space and the brussels sprouts your mother had insisted you eat tonight.

After that day, Min Yoongi became a constant in your life.

As luck would have it, your parents were speaking about your new neighbours that night. About how they meant to introduce themselves to them so they would feel welcomed to the neighbourhood. About the son they had who was around two years older than you, and how you both could be great friends.

You never anticipated that your mother would become best friends with Yoon Misook, which meant that you would come to spend a lot of time with the Mins. Birthday parties, holiday celebrations, family get-togethers… if you can name it, you had to be there and you had to be there with him.

Min Yoongi loved being right. There was always unmistakable joy present on his otherwise expressionless face when he knew he was right. Like when he beat you at chess, or told you that tomato was actually a fruit- it didn’t matter because you still didn’t like eating them anyways. You enjoyed wiping the smug little smirk right off his face. The thing was that you loved being right too, or rather, you greatly enjoyed telling Min Yoongi he was wrong. Enjoyed telling him that the sun was in fact a star, feeling higher than any sugar rush could take you when you let him know that acetic acid wasn’t technically vinegar- just a part of it. This was much to the dismay of both your parents, your friends, teachers, and anyone else who had the pleasure of having you both around at the same time.

Although maybe you should thank him.

During the school year, some time after your first meeting with Yoongi, you were sitting in his living room completing homework. His brows were furrowed in a delicate mix of concentration and confusion. You had stretched over to his side to see what was the matter, to see if you perhaps needed to ask his mother or older brother for help. “Yoongi-oppa, what’s wrong?” He didn’t look at you, for a second you wondered if he even heard you. You were going to nudge him with your pencil until he said your name. “Don’t worry about it. You won't understand it anyways.” His brows furrowed even more as he continued to work on his assignment.

Now you weren't planning to help him by any means. He was older than you and you were sure his fifth-grade math would give your third-grade math a run for its money. But him implying that you couldn't even understand it struck a nerve in your young brain. “Lemme see it, please, please, pleasee. Yoongiii-” he released a heavy sigh and turned his workbook towards you. Of course you were pleased with getting your way.

There were shapes, you definitely recognized the triangle and other shapes. You also knew about perimeter, but as you read further down the page admittedly some of the questions you didn’t quite understand just how they expected to get all those answers from a few shapes. It was your turn to have your brows furrowed in confusion.

Noting the shift in your facial expression, Yoongi took his workbook back. You looked up to find him looking at you with one eyebrow raised and a smug little smile on his face. He was daring you to say something, anything. You knew that, but you had nothing to say. “I told you.” He’d said, and hearing your silence, Yoongi knew that he was in fact right and a chuckle managed to escape him. You only huffed and returned to your seat, barely managing to finish the last question of your own assignment.

That night you swore it would be the last time you’d let Min Yoongi look at you like that. Call it your villain origin. Sheer spite, divine motivation, whatever it was and whatever it took you knew you just had to be better than you were, better than him eventually.

You had spent even more time with your face buried in books than you used to. If you were an academic weapon before, you made it your mission to become an academic armoury now. The next few years saw you move from just being at the top of your class, to being the top of the school- overtime skipping a grade and ending up in the same class as your favourite neighbour.

You still remember how he was laughing with his friends, completely unaware of your presence until the homeroom teacher called you up to the front to introduce you to the class. He was surprised, you’d hardly ever seen him surprised by anything, much less anything you’ve done. He often had little to no emotions on his face and after eight years of knowing him, you’d come to know that any emotion outside of his usual scope of nothing was absolutely monumental.

As much as possible, you tried to steer clear of Yoongi while at school except for some instances where a teacher thought it a good idea to have you both working together (that mistake was hardly made a second time). You’d quickly learn that in his first year of high school, Yoongi, who lacked any decent manners and people skills, was somehow popular among the students. You noticed how girls often giggled with their friends when they passed him, or how you would see him laugh more with his own group of friends than he ever did with you back home. This was understandable as the both of you only ever really managed to get on each other’s nerves.

Despite all this, he’d hardly ever let you walk home alone even when you insisted that you could walk home with literally any of your other friends, anybody but him. He says it's because he knows you enjoy his company though you refuse to admit it. “As if,” You would tell him. “Personally, I have better things to do than pretend to enjoy spending time with the likes of you.” You ignore the voice that tries to tell you that it's a good thing he’s here with you and not with one of the girls in his little fan club. You ignore the same voice as it tries to tell you that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Instead, you swat his hand away when he attempts to flick your forehead. Instead, your laughs echo through Daegu streets as you run from him. There's no point in running. Of course, he'll catch you, just like he always has, and maybe he always will. So even though your lungs burn, and Min Yoongi is annoying, and you're not even close to being the prettiest girl at school, there's a big grin on your face. This moment was yours, yours alone.

Once as you were preparing for your last lesson of the day, Yoongi sat down beside you in the empty classroom. Before you could comment on it, other students came in and started filling up seats one by one. Throughout the class, you noticed that Eunji had taken the seat to his left. That’s no problem, she and her ponytail could sit wherever they wanted. If only she didn’t keep asking him things every five minutes or so. You weren't counting. But you wondered if he could ever learn anything with her practically in his ear the entire time, you wondered if she knew she was distracting the entire class trying to breath down Yoongi’s neck.

You felt sick, maybe. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach and it felt just a bit difficult to breathe. But you also felt like you could burst. You weren’t sure if you liked it. Thankfully, class had finally ended and students began leaving as quickly as they came in. You wouldn’t have to endure... whatever that was any more.

You were just packing up when you heard a deep voice beside you, “If you stared any longer, given your track record, I’d have to believe you had a crush on me or something.” He makes it his mission to ensure you never forget the one time you tripped and fell to his feet when you were children. Due to either mild irritation, embarrassment or something else you could feel the blood rushing up to your face, so you decide to slow your movements in hopes that he wouldn’t see it.

“Please, Yoongi. Do I look like I'd want to waste my intelligence on harbouring romantic affections for you.” You hear him scoff behind you and you turn your head just enough to see him raise his eyebrow, looking at you incredulously.

“’Yoongi?’ We dropped the honorifics now?”

“We’re classmates, I didn’t think it was necessary.” You decided to face him, mirroring his raised eyebrow with your own, challenging him. “Is there a problem, Yoongi? I mean, if it’s so important to you I could always just start calling you ahjuss-”

"Yoongi, is fine." For the second time today there's a hint of surprise on his face, and the ghost of a smile that you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You wanted to smile too, but suddenly you remembered Eunji beside him in class and the smile never came to be. You didn’t want to tell him that he had all the girls in the school to call him whatever he wanted them to, that perhaps you felt a bit intimidated by the older, more mature girls that he had around whenever you saw him. You didn’t want to tell him that because you’ve been actively avoiding feeling that way for some time. You didn’t want to tell him anything like that for fear of him actually laughing you to scorn, for fear of him hitting you with his infamous blank stare. You’ve had your fair share of first-hand experiences with it.

Instead of all the things you weren’t ready to face, weren’t ready to say, you tell him “I can’t walk home with you today. Me, Taehyung and Ara have uhmm, something. I’ll see you later.” There was nothing. But you left to find your friends before he could have a chance to say anything else to you.

It’s been a year since you graduated high school. Summer brought you back to your hometown for the first time since you moved in with your uncle to be closer to university in Seoul. You weren’t the only students home for break so naturally, you ran into a few of your old classmates. Some of them mentioned a get together on the field behind the school that was coming up. You couldn’t not know about it. You remember barely stepping off the bus with Yoongi when Sooyoung greeted you both and first suggested the idea. That’s how you found yourself on the field with him (and the drinks) waiting for the others to show up.

Soon everybody that could make it sat down on the grass and Sooyoung started pouring out the drinks in cups and passing them around. The first taste is... bitter. You try to drink more, you’ve heard a few people say it's an acquired taste.

The night went on, conversations eventually straying away from the generic “How are you” and “what are you up to now.” to be more meaningful (as meaningful as it gets when alcohol is involved.) Socially, you were there. You contributed to the conversation occasionally- laughing when something was funny, nodding if you agreed with something, sprinkling in a “nah” when you didn’t agree with something else.

Occasionally though, you would stare at the amber liquid in your cup. It was taking everything in you not to gag when you took yet another sip. The cup is put down beside you, you don’t think you’ll be acquiring that taste anytime soon. Said cup gets to sit there for approximately thirty seconds before it finds residence in Yoongi’s hands. He’s drinking your drink. Yet you can’t find it in you to complain because you really, really don’t like it. You decide to leave well enough alone.

It’s not until a new cup is placed before you by the drink thief himself that decide to look at him. He’s not looking at you, of course he’s not. He never looks at you when he’s with his friends. Not that it matters, not that you care. At least it was nice of him to get you a new drink, maybe he’s a semi-decent human being. Your thoughts momentarily pause when instead of an involuntary gag, a pleasant, surprised hum escapes your lips.

His eyes have crinkled at the corners because someone just said something funny. He’s using a single hand behind him as support and is nursing a drink with the other. He looks as carefree as ever. You can’t imagine that he’d take note of something so small, something like that- even if you grew up together. You'll try to brush it aside, though you doubt it's something that you’d be likely to forget about anytime soon. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, you’ll blame it on the alcohol from earlier.

Christmas was just around the corner. The crisp, chilly air and stressed college students cramming for finals were more than enough to let you know the festive season was upon you. You sat in the new sandwich shop that you believe was strategically nestled between the library and the café. A cup of coffee remained untouched to your left and sandwich in hand, you were currently with your friend, Hyewon, who was not so subtly trying to get you to agree to go on a blind date. She's been trying ever since she found out your last date was almost a year ago, that it never ended well romantically, that you and Hoseok decided to become friends and still are today. "I'm telling you, he's really handsome and smart," said between a mouthful of her sandwich and a sip of her coffee. "My sister said he graduated from Yonsei this year with like, first class honours in economics or something."

"I'm just... still thinking about it."

And the truth is, you were. Ever since the topic came up nearly a month ago after one of your shared classes. After Hyewon got over her shock because "A girl like you should have dates every weekend," she took it upon herself to find you a date.

It's not that you were against dating, and relationships. During your earlier college years you tried a few times. Your first date tried to explain the basics of aerospace engineering to you, the thing you were majoring in. He was a history major, said he couldn't believe a girl could actually study something like that and asked how much your parents paid to get you in the program. You laughed it off and attempted to push it aside, that date ended early. You went on a few more dates after that but it always felt the same, like you were trying too hard to impress your date, like they weren't trying hard enough to get to know you. You decided to just focus on your studies. At the very least, you knew you were good at that.

“Please tell me yes- there’s a drone show next Friday at the Han River. You guys could watch it.” Hyewon looked so excited you promised to let her know by Monday. She squealed and you were sure you would have seen your ancestors if she had hugged you any tighter, told you not to forget to call her as she bounced off to her last final.

You remained in your corner seat. Unsure why you didn’t just leave with your friend. A couple of girls sat at the table behind you. While you were nursing your now cold hot chocolate you were hearing bits and pieces of their conversation. It’s not that you wanted to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help the way your ears perked up when one of them mentioned ‘medical student from Yonsei’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence.

“I’m telling you he’s pretty quiet, and cute. I don’t even know how they got him to agree.”

“Ugh! I’m so jealous... should I transfer?”

“Shut up and look at the picture Kangchul sent me.”

“People like this really study medicine? If he looks like this, what will you wear on the date?”

“I dunno, it’s next Friday. You should come over and help me get...”

You didn’t stay to hear anymore.

Hours later you lay wide awake in your bedroom. Sleep has been evading you. It’s not like there was only one medical student at Yonsei. There were hundreds of medical students. It didn’t have to be the one you were thinking of. The odds were... low. You paid no mind to the tiny voice that was telling you that “the odds are never zero, though.”

You reached for your phone, surely you could always text the person in question, it’s not like you think he would hide it from you but in the same breath, it’s not like he has any reason to tell you if he were going on a date. Why would he? Your fingers hovered over his chat until the screen finally timed out. This seemed to wake you from your daze, the phone was tossed to the side. Why were you thinking of him anyway? If it were him, if he was going on a date, it definitely wouldn’t affect you. It shouldn’t, you won’t let it.

It was 8:44 am the following day when you texted Hyewon that she could arrange the blind date.

A week and a half later you found yourself standing outside of a restaurant in Hongdae. Your date was to meet you there so you could have a meal then head over to the drone show your friend mentioned. You’ve been waiting for... a while. Yunseo was running late and to make matters worse, when you pulled out your cell phone you found it was dead. It was cold, and you were cold, and maybe you were just stood up for this date. You wanted to cry, you thought it probably wouldn’t be that bad if you just broke down on the streets. Probably no one would notice if you did anyway.

Slowly, white flurries started falling from the sky. Couples started walking even closer together, some laughing at whatever they found funny. They all looked really cute. You really hated the cold, maybe you should have just stayed home. “You know,” came a familiar, deep voice breaking through the frigid atmosphere. “In my experience, standing in the cold like this is a sure fire way to catch a cold.”

You don’t need to turn around to know who that deep voice belongs to. You couldn't help the scoff that escaped you. Of course he would appear at a time like this. Why was he there and why did he have to show up just now when you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, probably. Your thoughts couldn't even spiral too far because now you were genuinely fighting back the tears that really, really wanted more than anything to be free. “Shut up, Yoongi. I don’t—” You couldn't help the way your voice wavered, or the sniffle, all things considered. “I can’t deal with this right now.” You didn’t hear a response from him, so you assumed that he had left. You didn’t expect him to be in front of you, slightly bending his head to meet your eyes with his brows furrowed. You hated when he looked at you like this. Like he could see right through you, like he knows things even you don't. You hate it, so you look away from his curious gaze. You didn't want him to find anything in yours.

It felt like hours before he gave up on his one sided staring competition. He released a sigh while undoing his scarf that was neatly wrapped around his neck. You shook your head, wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, you didn't need his scarf- that you were fine. The words never even got to leave your mouth before he started putting his scarf on you anyway. “Don’t even right now ___, you’re cold.” It wasn't a question. He said it like he knew, he said it while he took his time to wrap his scarf around your neck, making sure to cover your nose. You think you’ve seen this film before.

《Some years ago》

You have been walking for quite some time now. Quiet footsteps crush dead leaves and twigs a small distance behind you. You’re not afraid, mildly annoyed maybe. But you’ve no need to be afraid because you already know who’s behind you. He’s been trailing after you in silence since you stormed off the campsite earlier in a desperate attempt to cool off. It was too much. The woodsmoke, the cheeriness, the ever persistent Song Eunji and her effortlessly beautiful messy bun hanging off the side of *your* neighbour, on your family camping trip. It was one thing to have to endure her incessant hovering while at school, but you’d think that at least your weekend far out of town would have been peaceful. Turns out that the universe had other plans for you. Not only did you have to endure Min Yoongi, but you also had to stomach having the president of his fanclub- whose family just also happened to plan a camping trip at this spot- here too. How fantastic.

You hold your thin jacket tighter against your body as you make your way deeper into the forest. Every step you took only seemed to strengthen the already growing irritation inside you. You longed for the warmth of your bed, the comfort of your home. Surely there would be nothing there to upset you this much. “Yoongi, either catch up or leave. You’re smart enough, I’m sure that you’re at least a little aware how strange it is to stalk after a woman at night.”

“Yn, you’re smart enough, I’m sure you’re aware that this is hardly considered stalking.” Still, his footsteps carried that steady pace and you could almost hear the smugness in his voice as he continued. “I’m simply taking a walk, I’d be more than happy to catch up if you’d let me.” You could almost imagine how his face looks right now, a raised eyebrow, his (annoying) little smirk, maybe his head was even tilted to the side. You hoped he could see your eyes rolling from behind you. All of that didn’t matter though, cause either way the chill breeze took the challenge in his tone and brought it straight to your ear.

“Yeah, well you could walk somewhere else.” He certainly had no issue being other places before, you thought. You didn’t see why he was being so difficult. Although, you’ve known Min Yoongi for what feels like your entire life. If he did have a middle name, perhaps it would be something along the lines of annoying, stubborn-

“It’s fine.”

Wind came dancing through the trees and brought not just a disturbance to your quiet surroundings, but also a drop in the already cold temperature you’ve been trying to ignore since you left the warmth of the campfire. Involuntarily, your body shivered. Though it was only trying to warm itself up, you suppose.

“Here, put this on.” He was shrugging off his own jacket. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped. Hadn’t realised that Yoongi found his way beside you. Maybe your middle name is stubborn too, because you were already shaking your head and pushing his hand and his jacket away, wanted to tell him he could keep his jacket, that you would warm up just fine on your own soon enough. It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Would you stop pretending like you’re not literally freezing cold right now,” He just puts the jacket over you anyway. “Just take it.” With no other choice (you were freaking freezing), you begrudgingly put your arms through the sleeve. You watched as he proceeded to fasten the buttons with what you’ll assume resembles care on his face- no sign of displeasure anywhere.

“You do this after school too, why?” Memories all bleed into each other from all the times he’s placed a jacket round your shoulders, or a scarf round your neck. The few times he’d given you gloves to wear. You know he knows what you’re referring to.

“Because,” He’s fixing the jacket collar around your neck. “Your mom would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

He couldn’t be serious. To think that was the reason... “You don’t need to do it anymore.”

He hummed in response. “Yeah? Stop leaving your jacket and I won't have to give you mine all the time, deal?” His left hand ruffled your hair all while you glared at him. Oftentimes, despite your extensive vocabulary, you find it hard to find words to describe Yoongi and just settle for thinking that he’s so him. Right now, he was being very much him, even more so than usual.

A sudden high pitch screech pulls you out of your brooding and launches you into Yoongi’s arms, a scream escapes you. Surprised, his arms wrap around you while he looks around. “What was that?!” You were whispering, screaming, a unique mix of both things.

“I don’t know.” Your companion sounded as calm as ever, you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing. But you couldn't focus on that right now.

“Will it kill us?”

“I don’t know.” You felt him shrug. Your annoyance from earlier resurges, but with a new friend along with it, fear.

“Well Yoongi, what do you know exactly, hmm?”

“I know the way back to the campsite.” You looked up at him, seemingly just realising you were quite cozily nestled in his arms. You jumped back, almost tripping on a rock, or tree root, you couldn’t tell as it was dark. But what you could see was the gentle look that remained on his face as he steadied you, you weren't sure how it made you feel. All you did know was that it was too much.

“Well, um…” You decided to turn your head away, clear your throat. Yes, that was a good idea. “Lead the way, I guess.” Yoongi chuckled, and soon you felt a warmth enveloping your hand. Similar to the warmth simultaneously growing in your own chest. This was the first time he’d ever held your hand. You stood shocked, frozen, unable to move. Unable to ask him why.

“Come on, so you don’t fall again. This just like the day I just moved int-”

“Oh my gosh, shut up about that will you!” That seemed to do the trick. Just when you think he’d give that story a rest, he’d find a way to remind you again. How infuriating. Still, you both couldn’t help the laughs escaping your lips as you head back hand in hand to your loved ones who were probably waiting for you at the campsites. Maybe you shouldn't have stormed off, but as the moon started peaking through the clouds lighting up your rugged path, you were glad he came to find you.

《Present day》

When he gently took your hand in his, your mind found itself back to the present where you stood in snowy streets as opposed to the serene forest. Was he really always like this? “C'mon.” He'd turned towards you, his head motioning in a general direction. Your mind wanting to stay lost in thought for a bit more, feet remained planted on the ground for a minute, maybe longer. Yet Min Yoongi remained a perfect picture of patience. Maybe it was his lack of frustration, or the fact that you didn't not trust him. But you let him lead you down the Hongdae streets, you follow with your hand in his.

AN: Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, I had every intention for this to be a tiny lil one-shot but the story clearly had other ideas in mind. I'm working on part 2 as we speak so hopefully I can share it with you all soon.

That being said, Special thanksies to my mooties @livingformintyoongi and @moochii-daisies for their encouragement and for accommodating my yapping 🥹🩷 and not to mention @oddinary4bts when I felt stuck and was at the brink of putting this fic to the infinite sides.

This, as well other fics that I'll post in the future will be cross-posted to Ao3 because of popular demand (1 person suggested), but yes it was by popular demand 🤭

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @abcdefghilovejk2121 @ktownshizzle @peoniesnro

[moutainrusing]

wanna have you

780 words, sunkiller

This kid. This insane kid. He was making James’s mind rage from across the Great Hall, wanting to scream every expletive about this kid, because he didn’t know how else to describe him. He hated him. So much. Before him, James had been the smartest kid in school. Outstanding in all his OWLs. And of course James would brag about it, be smug about it, these perfect round donuts marking all of his subjects with sweet glory. He was brilliant and he owned it. If he wasn’t arrogant about it, he would probably be a Ravenclaw.

Except he was only really book-smart, not exactly street-smart. Mostly acted without thinking, actually. But for exams? For the knowledge needed to discover the secrets of the world? Either James had it, or he knew exactly how to find it.

But this kid. This new kid, who James had never even noticed until now. He wouldn’t have, because he was a year older, and also didn’t pay much attention to anyone who wasn’t him… but this weirdo, this absolute freak in the year below had taken extra OWLs. More than what was even allowed! (More than James.) More than what was even possible! (And it was more than James.)

He’d also received an Outstanding in every single one of them. (More than James.)

About to throw a fit, throw hands, hurl outrage across the room, he wanted to grab Barty Crouch Junior by his hair and pull out his brain, knock his skull in, either steal that mind or kill it, that was what James wanted to do. Mostly he wanted to have it. Sink his hands into flesh like fruit and clutch them around the core, feel the electricity through it, the sparks of Barty’s thoughts, and marvel and how they rushed faster than light and glowed brighter than the sun. So smart, more than James, so obviously he wanted to have it.

He hated it. Really, truly. He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

He wanted to talk to him. Wanted to fight him.

Couldn’t stop staring. As if both of them would telepathically transmit brain signals that way. Give it all to me, that was what James wanted.

Barty was too smart. Just give it to James. Would he beg for it? He felt like he’d do anything at this point. How dare a kid be better than him? He had it all, and then there was Barty. Who acted like he had nothing, but still got everything and then some.

James wanted to have it. Take, steal, anything. Wanted Barty to teach him how to think. To tell him it all. Pour it into his hands like water, cup it to his lips and drink, he wanted and he wanted. He wanted to stare at Barty and watch him win, bathe in the fact that he got to be there for it, see him grin and make it bigger, let James have a part of it at least. Let him make an impact.

Because Barty was so smart. The smartest. It made James hate him yet want him. And keep staring at him from across the hall. This smart kid.

He wanted to take his brain.

But all James could take were stolen glances. Flick his eyes away, let them linger briefly, take them away again. He couldn’t take anything away from Barty. Not allowed, a breach of privacy, but physical self-restraint never stopped the thoughts.

I want to have you.

That was impossible. Since James couldn’t have him, he hated him.

I want to hate you.

Still staring. Then looking away. Barty didn’t deserve his brain. James looked back, as if he could extract this essence of intelligence through the power of wishful thinking.

Although even if James got the intelligence, he wouldn’t get Barty, and he wanted it all. But he couldn’t have it. It was a cycle, and he was spiralling in it. Tried to hate, but all he could do was want.

Aching, as if his chest was being carved out, James looked back up at Barty’s table through his eyelashes, only to freeze in place, ice filling his chest cavity before being engulfed in lava, a feverish hot-cold, hot-cold, freezing, flaming, the contrast making his lungs flake and crumble to snowy ash. Barty’s eyebrows rose as he smirked crookedly, gaze glinting at James.

Stop staring, creep.

And Barty’s voice, reverberating within his skull, was also deeper than his own. Why was Barty better at everything?

Also, what magic was he even using to project his voice inside James’s head?!

Want me to teach you? Call me sir and not kid, then we have a deal.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Perfect 10 Liners time! Ok, Yotha, you got some crow to eat, be good to our boy.

Oh, Yotha's meter is full on broken.

Which does fit with how he is with Gun, he feels a pull, but doesn't know how to really handle it. And his kisses up to this point have felt very "do behavior A to get response B" rather than any actual desire.

Obligatory beach splashing time! Pretty sure it's law by now.

Ha, of course Fai has been leaving the door unlocked on purpose. That's a good man, because if I had people snuggling in the bed next to me every night, I would be hella annoyed.

I love that we are getting to see more Fai and Wine interactions ahead of their romance!

Part of why I didn't immediately warm to Faifa was the intensity of how he came after Wine, but now I want to go back and rewatch with the recontextualization of the new scenes. It's getting sweeter by the second.

Lol, I would so be Wine here, just like "aaaah, cute older guy is talking to me, brain no longer functioning".

Oh, they are sparking so beautifully!

I love that we get Tay just randomly popping in on occasion to be the wise sage of the group.

I'm assuming his move to Nan is going to be relevant to the FaiWine story. New location for frolics?

My theory about Arm getting drunk in every episode for the entertainment of the writers is holding up.

Oh, that is so pretty.

Now I want to be at the beach.

Oh good, we're talking about the kiss.

All that and Yotha still didn't say, "I kissed him to confirm I don't feel anything anymore"? Dude, that's the most essential piece.

Hmm, this doesn't feel super romantic to me? Maybe because I've seen what waiting around for someone can be like in real life, and most of the time it sucks.

Like I get that Gun is a very sweet, loving, kind man, but I need him to be more selfish.

Yes, perfect!

Hold those boundaries baby. He doesn't get everything when he wants you to wait.

Hmm, also with the bracelet - it just feels like Yotha wants them to be boyfriends without calling it boyfriends.

Again, not mad about any of this stuff, it all fits their characters, but it just doesn't feel romantic to me.

Ha, love the friend interactions, as always.

Wow, Yotha really be walking through the halls in those pajamas, that is an impressive level of dedication.

Gah, I just - of course Gun would be sad! I feel like there's still a lack of real honest communication here.

Fai is a whole mood, I am 100% on your side bro.

Aww, Fai getting all the birthday love is cute. And deserved!

Oh for crying out loud, Yotha, you are so in love!

Seriously, all the brothers need some therapy. Please, someone just mention the word.

Lol, Gun is not fooling his mother in the least.

Yotha doesn't want to do what Wa did, but he's still setting Gun up for hurt all the same. Not being willing to call him your boyfriend or call it love doesn't change the reality, and it would hurt just as much for things to end.

Goddamit Yotha! I was giving you grace last week, but you are straight up ticking me off now.

I know we just did this plotline with ArcArm, but I need some hottie to come flirt with Gun. Boy needs to feel desired.

This is such a sweet friend group.

I love when we get to see men taking care of one another.

Oh Fai. Always sacrificing himself.

Gun deserves so much better than this.

I mean, yes, Yotha is not wrong to say he needs time, but the hot and cold is what's super hurtful. One minute he's playing boyfriends, then he can't even smile at Gun. He's so hung up on some projection of what love is supposed to be, rather than paying attention to all the ways he genuinely does love Gun.

Yotha, you are making me want this to happen for Gun.

It's not that I don't feel for Yotha, or his struggles. I think I've just seen too many real life friends being hurt by a partner who knows they have issues, but refuses to get help or work through them in order to stop causing their partner pain. And it's really shitty.

Yes, Gun! He can take his time, but you also get to set boundaries.

Waaah, stop making my AouBoom smokers.

God I love my boys.

They are very clearly "we may be side characters in this show, but we're still gonna prove why we're the number one in physical intimacy at GMMTV".

Goddamn, Aou, how much have you been working out?!

Lifting someone your own size is freaking hard!

Ok, can our BL boys just stop ever crossing the street?

They are a very pretty couple.

Hmm, this was an interesting one. I think Yotha is just bumping up against reality a little too much for me here, which is not the fault of the show.

But at least it looks like next week Yotha may finally get his shit together!

[toji-bunny-girl]

The way I thirsted over my pookie boos sexy men for over a whole hour–

[bmpmp3]

speaking of genbu's "serious" sounding tone in his voicebank, i think that might be why he was such a dead ringer for teto pre-synthv-bank-release with just a couple little gender parameter tweaks. wait do my followers know this. sorry i know most of my vocal synthesizer talk is genuinely gibberish to my beloved and loyal long time followers but do you guys know this. for a few years, people had discovered that since utau teto and genbu have this similar strong enunciation and dark sounding tone plus teto can have a bit of a tomboyish edge to her voice anyway -> if u mess with some parameters and phonemes he'll sound close enough to her, so it became a bit of running gag in the community, along with just being a genuine and novel use case for his voicebank. actually recently i found out about someone who made a couple of synthv scripts to set genbus voice to his falsetto pitch and set the tension to drop during each syllable automatically to make him sound like the utau sora amaha. genbu's purpose is to impersonate other vocal synthesizers

[the-busy-ghost]

Am re-reading Hogg's Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner and I know it's not a new or original thought but it's just striking to me again how young George (younger) and his brother Robert must have been during the tennis match and Black Bull mob scenes.

If the 'famous session' refers to the 1703 session of parliament (or even if it refers to the previous year's sitting which Queensberry also oversaw), and if old Dalcastle married in 1687 (or later), then at most George could have been 16 and his brother 15, and it's probable that both boys are younger.

I don't remember too many of the details from the first time I read this book so will have to finish it before I make any further judgement. However I don't think it detracts from Robert's culpability or nastiness in any way to take into account his probable age in the earlier portion of the narrative. I think makes for a more interesting reading when forcibly reminded that he's a young teenager. Even taking into account different social mores and expectations placed on children in both the period in which the novel is set, and the early 19th century when it was written, it seems to me that that's an element that will still have particular significance for readers in the 21st century, regardless of one's personal experience with extreme forms of Presbyterianism.

[subaru-meteorlight]

💫.

[madamechrissy]

Well, are you mine?

Pairings: Sukuna x fem reader

Summary- You're Yuuji Itadori's best friend since forever, and his older brother Sukuna is a grade A ass to you. After a nasty breakup with your ex, you text Yuuji who's out for the night, he gives you the go ahead to stay at his place. But it's only Sukuna there, and he is oddly comforting? You've had it bad for him forever, but little do you know, so has he, even if he doesn't show it, because Sukuna thinks Yuuji loves you (ahem, he's WAY wrong) Porn w/feelings, best friend's brother trope, Duo POVS

CW- Modern Sukuna, he's a gamer and tsundere af lol, this is SMUTTY asf, loss of virginity (don't mention much abt it aside from reader is one) Sukuna is ROUGH lol, oral sex (m and f recieving) overstimulation, dirty talk, Sukuna calls reader brat and slutty, lowkey breed kink, possessiveness, marathon sex lol. Sukuna is BAD AT FEELINGS lmaooo, but he whimpers? Reader- 20, Sukuna 25- 6.4k WC!

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!

You’re walking out in that pathetic excuse for a tank top and the most revealing shorts that morning when Sukuna sees you, peeking up from his monitor, proceeding to get sniped like some damn noob when he sees your nipples perk up through the material. He curses loudly, slamming off his headset then, you look at him in surprise, lips parted just so.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he glares at you then, standing up as he takes you in, irritated you have such an effect.

“What are you doing here? Yuuji isn’t even home until tonight.” He says with a glare, ruby eyes glinting, you tense just a bit, Sukuna is tall and intimidating, and constantly an asshole.

“He said it was fine, here’s the text.” You swipe up on your phone, he snorts as he looks at it.

“You have a teddy bear case? Stupid.” Your eyes narrow in irritation when he picks up the phone, scoffing as he sees the texts. “God. What a simp you’re making him.”

“What now? Am not even! He’s my best friend, not that you’d understand, you don’t even have any. You’re such an ass.” You snatch your phone back from him, earning his scowl.

“You’re an annoying brat, y’know that? If Yuuji didn’t simp so badly I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

“Whatever! Ugh.”

“Why’d you need to come here anyway? Boyfriend piss you off?” You sigh, crossing your arms, just pressing your breasts up more for his view.

“He cheated on me.” Sukuna pauses then, hearing the hurt in your voice, seeing it on your pretty face, annoyingly pretty face.

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you sigh, looking at him then, emotions in the back of your throat.

“That was mean of me to say, that you have no friends. I know you do… I’m sorry I said it.” His mouth opens, then closes, his brows lowering.

“You’re always bitchy to me, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“And you’re always an ass to me.”

“Tch, I’m not gonna fawn over you like your little best friend does, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, every time I stay or hang out you tell me you can’t wait for me to leave, or are just mean as shit.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling then, it’s true he is mean to you constantly.

Every time you stay, he’s picking on you or making snide remarks, to the point he’s made you cry sometimes, and then felt like shit. Nothing was worse than seeing you cry, but he didn’t know what else to do, because you’re haunting his every dream, even last night he was stroking his cock to a stupid Instagram picture of you.

The thing is, Sukuna wants you, and wants you badly, so much it makes him pathetic, his little brother’s best friend, who Sukuna knows has had some stupid crush on since forever. Sukuna’s only five years older than you, but twenty just seems too young, you seem too inexperienced, too innocent and sweet, the last thing you needed was him around you.

And he knew you had some little crush on him, most of knowing him, you used to literally make doe eyes at him, he found it sort of cute at first, but now you’re a whole woman, walking around in nothing half the time. He was happy you got a boyfriend, despite the odd clench in his chest from hearing it, only because he wouldn’t have to see you as much.

So, the best course of action?

Make you hate him, and he thinks it’s worked, you don’t make doe eyes, you’re not fawning over him, or pathetically trying to flirt. No, you’re just as mean to him as he is to you now, god and you scowling and flipping him off? That turns him on more than fucking anything, unfortunately.

“Fuck him.” Sukuna says, and you’re shocked for a moment, as you stare up at the guy you’ve had it bad for since you can remember, Yuuji’s older brother, you thought he was so cool, you were always coming over more and more to see him.

Yuuji was the best friend in the world, so it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, it’s just your mind kept wandering, Sukuna was always a grump, but something shifted in the past couple of years, especially this year. He was downright mean and nasty to you, making jokes, pinching on you, ruffling your hair, rolling his eyes whenever you were near.

If his goal was to make you hate him, you don't, you just really can't stand him. Can't stand seeing him shirtless seeing the tattoos around his biceps, down his strong chest, hate seeing his stupid abs that have abs!?! Why does he have to be such an attractive ass, you don't know, but your crush hasn't gone away.

It's worse.

Last night you'd seen Sukuna was here when you'd used the key Yuuji let you have, he was crashed out on the couch sprawled out, movie ended, you'd covered him with a blanket and given him a pillow. In his sleep he almost looked sweet, you thought, having slept in the guest room, he'd swirled in your mind, your boyfriend having cheated hurt, but thankfully you hadn't taken that step with him…

No, you stupidly still wanted Sukuna as your first.

As if that would happen, he hates you so much clearly, and you have seen the girls he brought over, older and more experienced, more confident and worldly. You weren't there yet, especially when the man you're wanting doesn't see you as anything but a little brat.

“Sukuna, are you comforting me?” Sukuna scoffs.

“Of course I'm not, but also… he's a fucking idiot. You don't deserve someone who does that shit.” You blink back tears then, stepping to him, hugging him.

Sukuna freezes, as he inhales that scent, something floral and irritatingly delicious, your soft breasts pressing against his chest, your nipples taut under the tank top. You're tiptoeing, holding him around his chest, he grimaces, wanting to pick you up and drag you to his room, but he shoves at you.

“Annoying brat, off me god.” You shake your head, snuggling closer, when he realizes you're crying. It annoys him how you wrench his heart when you look up, tears falling out of your stupidly pretty eyes.

Did you have to affect him this way?

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Don't call me that, ugh.” He places his huge hands at your waist to shove you off, but you gasp at it, taking over your waist, burning your skin then. He falters, his breath coming faster as he holds you there, just a little off of him, eyes going to your lips, tempting him to no end. “Stupid nickname.” He grumbles.

“I… you used to not mind it. What happened to make you hate me so much?” You whisper, hands slipping up his chest, so much revealed in the soft white shirt he's wearing, you feel his heart thudding under your hand.

“Don't hate you, just you're annoying.”

“How?”

“Just being here.”

“So I annoy you just existing?”

“Yes.” He speaks through clenched teeth, when you lean back, and he views your body. “Why do you fucking dress like that!?”

“It's comfy. What do you care, Kuna?”

“Stop it with the stupid nickname. Your… your body annoys me.” He is whispering now, hands slipping down your hips, you let this little sound out from the back of your throat that destroys him then.

“My body, what not your type? Don't wanna see it?”

“You're so fucking stupid.”

“How can a body piss you off? Ah!” Sukuna had you picked up now right on the kitchen counter, your breaths come in pants at getting handled like this, his big hands on your thighs, his eyes boring into you.

“All I can think about is all the ways I wanna fucking ruin you for any stupid boy you'll ever meet.” Your heart thuds in your chest, blinking rapidly as if you're in a fucking dream.

“Wh-what?” He moans softly, rough pads of his fingers slipping up your thighs, watching the goosebumps rise everywhere.

“Thinking how good your little pussy tastes, how pretty your tits must be, how your face would look fucked out.” You're moaning out loud when he finds you then, lips hovering just an inch from yours, he moans when he finds your slick cunt dripping, he laughs then, softly. “That wet for me? Haven't even done shit.”

“Shut up and touch me, please, Sukuna.” The way that his name sounds from your lips? Your eyes dilating? Your wet cunt on his fingers? His cock starts throbbing from touching you, watching your face when he shoves a finger in your hole, you grip him like a vise.

“Anyone ever made you cum? Any of your dumb boys?” You grip his wrist when his fingers curl in your gummy walls, finding that spot instantly and pressing on it, making you gasp as you gush down his fingers. “Fuck you're wet, why are you so stupid tight, fuckin feel you…”

“Don't know… I… Kuna, m’a v-virgin, ngh!” He yanks away then, panic on his face. “Don't stop, please.”

“A virgin, how the fuck?” You whine out as he backs off, sucking you off his fingers, his cheeks moaning, those crimson eyes dilated, the hottest thing you have ever seen. “Why do you taste so good? God I can’t stand you.”

“Kuna, please… just…”

“No, I won’t do that, I sure the fuck won’t take that. How are you even…”

“I’ve been waiting.” You murmur, earning his brows raised, barring you on either side with his strong arms, leaning close.

“You what now?”

“For you, stupid.” Sukuna cups your face with one hand, hot as your overheated cheek, so close your breaths mingle.

“No way, I’m not doing that, it’s bad enough I even touched you, now you’ll be all I can think about, annoying little brat ruining me.” His words hit, your pussy throbbing around nothing then, you lean your head and kiss his palm, melting him as you do. “Don’t do shit like that.”

“Do you want me?” You ask, thighs on either side of him.

“What do you think?” He grabs your hips, and you feel him, huge and hard against you over the fabric of his pants and your shorts, he grabs you tight, you’re looking at those lips, usually in a smirk or a sarcastic grin, so pouty right now, begging for your kisses.

“Doesn’t have to be anything serious-”

“How can you say that? No, it would be.” You would end him the moment he got inside you, he already knows it, tasting your sweet arousal on his tongue, looking at the color your cheeks are tinged, imagining your face as his cock leaks precum against his boxers.

“I can be… casual…” You’re grinding on him, you’ve never felt this, the longing for him in this way, you’re jutting your chin up, trying to kiss him, but he pulls his face away, shaking his head. “Kiss me.”

“No way.” He won’t be able to stop, at least at this point he can rip himself off of you, taking several breaths, turning away from how delectable you look sitting with your thighs spread on his counter.

“I’ve seen all the women you bring over the years, why not me? You clearly are casual about it?” You hate the emotions in your throat. “Am I not…”

“If you say some dumb shit like you’re not attractive, I swear you’ll piss me off. Look at you.”

“You won’t look at me.”

“I can’t right now, I won’t just fuck you, especially your… first I… can’t. Just drop it, just forget it even happened.” You jump off the counter then, breathing fast, heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“I’m sorry I asked.” He curses as you run off to the room, his head is spinning from your scent, your taste, the images now burned in his brain, your slick still on his fingertips.

He could never just take your virginity, what if he hurt you? What if he hurt you emotionally, he sure his entire life has never had a real girlfriend, he’s had hookups and booty calls, that’s it. And for the past year he’s pictured you half the time when he’s played with himself, when he’s slept with them, but he can’t do that, you deserved better than him surely.

You’re all dressed now, you stand there and look at him, he hates the tears that have streaked down your face, your bag on your shoulder. “You don’t have to leave, just leave me alone.” He says then, and you laugh without humor, shaking your head.

“I can’t face you after that, too embarrassing. Don’t even tell Yuuji I came over, please.” You go to leave and Sukuna stops you, a hand on the knob above you, his hard body towering behind you, you feel so small next to him, god who didn’t?

Sukuna runs his fingers down your spine, you shiver from the sensation, he leans close, his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“No?” You look at him then, noses touching, so close.

“Everyone wants me, it’s fine brat.” He smirks, you glare then, smacking at his hand on the knob and pulling open the door.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” You say, he grins at you like the asshole he is, but when you shut the door behind you, you don’t see him cursing himself, forehead resting on the door, his stomach sick.

Why’d he do that?

Why couldn’t he just give you what you wanted, what he wants so badly?

He’s terrified to disappoint you, but he already has.

*****

Two Weeks Later

“Please stay for dinner!? Please, please, please!” Yuuji begs you, literally on his hands and knees bowing, you giggle, shaking your head.

“No, I can’t… your brother-”

“He won’t bother you, he just yells at the game, it’s fine! Never used to bother you, and I miss you.” He looks up with sweet honey eyes, making you sigh then, nodding, he jumps up all excited. “Perfect, I need to show you the recipe my brother Cho showed me!”

“How is he? I miss him.” You say softly, Yuji’s other brother lived far away now, he was a sweetheart, much unlike Sukuna.

“He’s doing so well, his band is so popular now. I’ll tell him you said hi! You know he thought you were so pretty.”

“Cho did? No way.”

“Well who doesn’t, even Sukuna does.” You pause then, faltering as you look at the kitchen, where he’d had a long, thick finger inserted in your little hole. Where he’d tasted you.

“Um, I doubt all that. He hates me.” Yuuji shakes his head, checking his phone then. “Your girl?”

“We’re not dating yet, just talking, but we are going to a movie tonight. You know her, yeah?”

“Yes, she was so sweet in school.”

Sukuna walks in as Yuuji shows you their texts, his eyes darting to you, taking in your little pleated skirt and top with some dumb anime character you liked on it, you looked fucking adorable. So cute he hates it, so he scowls at you, earning your scowl right back, as Yuuji looks between you both.

“Woah, calm down. Sukuna, I have a date!” Sukuna’s heart drops, Yuuji surely would be good enough for you, he’s sweet (annoyingly sweet) and devoted. Choso and Yuuji were sweet, he’s not sure how he got all the asshole of the family, but he supposed it came from taking care of them both, being the oldest.

He should be a little relieved, you’d leave him alone now, right? You wouldn’t give him that look, he would finally know you’re untouchable, he clears his throat now, hating that his heart feels like it’s ripped in half. Just two weeks ago, the last time he saw you, he’d felt your heat, he’d had you begging for him, but he turned you down.

He did this.

“Finally, you two are going on a date, huh?” He says, trying to act casual, and Yuuji snorts, shaking his head, as your eyes go wide.

“Us, no! We’re too close, we’d never ruin our friendship. Though I sure asked her out a lot in school.”

“You tried.” You say with a little smile, as Sukuna stands there dumbfounded. “You’d never have liked dating me, I hate your zombie movies too much.”

“You have the worst taste, it’s true. Now, Sukuna, it's this girl…” Yuuji starts going on, and Sukuna can barely hold his composure, as he shows him a picture of her, as he’s rambling.

He was convinced his brother was in love with you, it’s a huge reason he has pushed you so far away, he’d never dishonor him like that, even if he knew you didn’t feel the same. He struggles to focus now, as you look down nervously, as if you could hear his thoughts, feel what he wants so badly.

“Thought you simped for the brat here.” He says, Yuuji laughs.

“No, she’s just a beautiful best friend.” He kisses your cheek and you smile warmly at him, it lights up your face, doing the annoying thing to his heart again. “If you’re not so mean, maybe she’ll stay for dinner.”

“Me, mean? Never.” You and Yuuji both roll your eyes at him.

“I don’t have to stay, Sukuna, I was just stopping by.” Your words break him down, remembering how mean he was, and he didn’t apologize, why should he though?

He should have said something.

You’re feeling his gaze on you, as he runs a hand through his pastel locks, the same shade as Yuuji but his are longer, messier, he has a little stubble on his cheeks you don’t remember seeing. As you further look, you see the dark circles under his eyes, how tense he is when he opens his mouth, just to close it, and re open it again, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Sukuna is… on edge?

“You can stay, what do I care? Used to your ass around anyway.” He walks to his room then, and Yuuji excitedly talks to you, but your mind is in that room, with that asshole of a man.

The dinner is awkward as fuck, and when Yuuji leaves to get ready for his date, you hastily start washing your dish, you feel his gaze on you, he’s leaned back in the chair with his legs wide. You don’t dare say a word to him, you’re too mortified still, too confused, his one touch with no kiss has done more than anything you’ve experienced so far.

Awakened shit that was already there.

Made it worse.

“So you two never…” Sukuna trails off, leaving the question open, you look back at him as you dry your hand with a dish towel.

“Never what, dated? Of course not.”

“I thought the kid had it bad for you.” His voice is quiet, you clear your throat, shaking your head then.

“No, I tried to tell you, just friends. Yuuji is sweet and I love him, but I’ve never felt that way… like I…” Like with Sukuna. “Yeah, anyway, the girl is so sweet. I’ll head out when he does, don’t worry.”

Sukuna’s standing next to you before you can blink, he’s wearing this black dress shirt unbuttoned just so, revealing too much of his strong chest, pecs that are ridiculous, your eyes keep darting to it. To those collar bones, the black lines running along, making you wonder just where his tattoos stop, you physically back up, looking away then, unable to even look in his eyes.

“Running away, brat? Scared?” He raises a brow, you blink then, shaking your head. “Yeah you are.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m ready guys! Oh… are you two gonna… hang out?” Yuuji asks with a little smile, you’re blushing then, shaking your head.

“Hang out with him? What, no.” Sukuna’s jaw clenches now, you smile as you feel how mad he is. “What?”

“What’s so wrong with me?”

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re a-”

“Okay, dumb question, don’t kill each other.” Yuuji does a little spin then, showing off his outfit, you giggle. “How do I look?”

“Amazing!” He kisses your cheek and hugs you then, just the sight of that alone has Sukuna infuriated, imagining kissing you.

What do your lips feel like?

Would they end him?

“She’s staying, she’s gonna… game with me.” Sukuna says then, you and Yuuji both look at him with shock. “Yeah, brat wants some lessons on Call of Duty.”

“Lessons? You game?” You want to burst out in laughter, the only video games you play involve very hot men on your phone.

Sukuna eyes you though, so intense it’s hard to breathe, you smile then, a little shy almost, realizing what he wants even though he’s not saying it. He wants to spend time with you, this shithead, this asshole of a man, he’s… he’s trying to express that he wants you to stay. And, to stay alone with him.

“I do wanna learn though, plus we should try to get along, hmm?” You look right at Sukuna, he’s not smirking or grinning, he’s vulnerable for a moment. His full lips parted just so in surprise.

“This makes me so happy. I love you both so much! If he pisses you off too bad, just text me.”

“What would you do, kid?” He demands.

“I’d… well I’d tell you to be nice.”

“I love you too.” You tell Yuuji then, and he runs off now to his date, leaving you alone in the kitchen again, with Sukuna. “Video games, huh?”

“Video games.” He answers, and before you know it, he’s right in front of you, gently holding you by your face, in a sweet manner you’d never think he could. “I want you, fuck I’ve wanted you for a long time now… but I thought you…” He’s trailing off, words escaping him.

“You thought Yuuji loved me, and you couldn’t do that.” You answer, everything starting to click now.

“That and you irritate the shit out of me. I don’t like what I feel.”

“What do you feel, Sukuna?” You step forward, arms wrapping around his thick waist then, he gulps visibly.

“Too much.” Is all he says, eyeing your lips hungrily.

“Maybe I feel too much. It’s scary, yeah?”

“I’m not scared of shit.” He’s leaning closer, you’re aching for him to just kiss you, licking your lower lip, tantalizing him as it turns glossy.

“If you’re not scared, then why are you so afraid to kiss me?” You whisper the words, his eyes flutter shut, a hand gripping your hair then at the nape of the neck, pulling it just so.

“Because I won’t stop there, I won’t stop till I’ve kissed every part of your body, till I’ve licked every part, until you’re cumming all over me.” Your little whimper from the back of your throat ruins him, he slams his lips down then, and it’s over.

Your kiss is messy, it’s desperate and sloppy, your tongues dripping saliva as he lifts you suddenly, you cling to him, thighs squeezing narrow hips, arms around his neck, your hand drifts through his undercut just so. He’s moaning as he kisses you so brutally, carrying you until you’re against a wall, pressing you there, you gasp for a breath while he starts licking down your throat.

“Kuna…” You’re arching against him, clinging tightly as he bites your throat, his big hands gripping your ass and squeezing.

“Hate that nickname. Hate how much I like it. Fuck you.”

You scowl, pulling away. “Fuck me for what?”

“Being so stupidly pretty. Driving me crazy forever. Fuck you for tasting so good, too.” You’re opening your mouth to protest, but he’s already carrying you to his bed, unceremoniously plopping you down on it, yanking off your top then, your breasts heave as your breaths come quickly, and he eyes you. “Fuck you for perfect tits.”

“Fuck you for being a dick.” You counter, but he’s gripping your breasts in his huge hands, squeezing them, sucking on your nipples, your hands enwrap in his pastel locks as he looks up at you, saliva strings dripping from your breasts. “Fuck that… feels s’good…”

“Fuck your sexy little moans, too.” You can’t be mad, not when he’s got your skirt off you, not when he’s ripping your panties to shreds, not when he eyes your pussy hungrily, shaking his head as he nips your inner thigh. “And fuck if you don’t have the most perfect pussy, what the…”

“Kuna, you’re c-crazy.” You whisper, he laughs then, breath tickling your cunt as he parts your plump lips, inhaling you like some psycho, burying his face. “Kuna!”

“Shut up, brat. Gonna ruin you for anyone.” He’s talking to your pussy it seems now, strong fingers pressing your thighs apart as he swipes a stripe up between your lips, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit, the sensation has your hips jerking, which he pins in place. “Ah- ah brat, stay still.”

“S’too much… I… oh my god.” Sukuna is devouring your pussy, there’s no other term for it, the way he laps at your pussy with his stupidly long tongue, his eyes bright red when they look at you, when he flicks it to your clit. You’re soaking him, hands pulling at his hair, earning his groan against you. “Wh-what… you’re… I…”

“Shut up, brat, I want to hear you cum, not run your mouth.” You should be offended, but you can’t be, not when he’s fucking your velvety walls with his tongue now, pinching your clit with two of his fingers, the stimulation far too much, you feel it, the pressure building in your core, spreading.

“Kuna!” You’re screaming that nickname, he doesn’t care in fact he loves hearing it, loves your pussy drooling around his tongue, he feels your walls tighten around his wet muscle then, looking up at your face, mouth open wide in an O, eyes rolled back, your hands yanking his hair out, and he knows you’re cumming for him.

He’s grinding his cock on the mattress, aching to be inside you, but he also wants to make you beg for it, wants to make you pathetic for him, only him. You’re cumming so blinding, stars bursting everywhere behind your eyelids, your body convulsing as you’re gushing all over his handsome face. You feel his grin against you when he pulls back his tongue, slipping two fingers inside.

“Hear how slutty she is, huh? So slutty thought you were a good girl.” He huffs, you’re reeling from cumming so hard when he quickly finds your g spot, as if he knew your body forever. “Can’t talk? Pathetic.”

“F-fuck… you I… it’s too much!” You whine, he’s scissoring those two fingers in and out of your now soppy little hole, you do hear it, the wetness so fucking loud, he’s licking your clit now, sucking it into his mouth, you’re pushing over the edge again. “Both!? I c-can’t!”

“Mmm, you can, cum again, pretty slut. Lemme drink it.” You’re trying to close your thighs, but he forces them open, smacking at one, shaking his head. “Again, y’can do it.”

“S’too much…” You’re whining over and over, it is so much pleasure you have trouble comprehending a thought, when he crooks his fingers in your gooey walls, and sucks your clit again, you’re shattering.

“Mmm, there you go, you can do it can’t ya?” He’s cooing to you, smirk on his features, that are coated in your slick.

“Please!” You’re yanking him up, he chuckles a bit, letting you, hovering over you with his strong arms, as he wipes your chin with one hand.

“You’re fucking drooling, god, fucked out already? Can you handle me?” He raises a brow, you want to retort, but you are fucked out, you came more than you ever have, now you’re opening your mouth and closing it. “Can’t talk, stupid brat?”

“F-fuck off… ass…” You manage, earning him more hard for you, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself then, but even more when he shoves his fingers in your pussy, scooping out more arousal, shoving them in your mouth.

“Suck them like a good girl, there ya fuckin go, pretty little slut.” You’re in tears from overstimulation as you suck him eagerly. “So ya can follow directions, ha… didn’t know that mouth could shut.”

“Shut it.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, he falters at your seductive words, shaking his head.

“You sucked dick?”

“N-no.” You admit, he sighs then.

“Look, maybe not the first time.”

“Sukuna, are you being caring?” You tease, his brows lower, lips pressing in a firm line.

“No! Just… you need a lot of workup and… will you stop smiling like that!? Stop looking at me that way.”

“Like what?” You tease, hands unbuttoning him shakily, he pulls back then, taking a breath as he looks down at your pretty body, and you reveal more of his chiseled frame.

“Like… that. Like you’re…”

“In love with you?” His jaw tenses again.

“Shut it, now.”

“I am, stupid ass. Don’t know why.” You sit up when he stands, eagerly unbuttoning his pants, his heart races like he’s the virgin, brain short circuiting when you slip them down, his boxers following.

“I… you… shouldn’t…” He doesn’t remember what he was saying, you’re too sexy, too pretty, your words he’s never thought he’d hear. “You don’t love me. Don’t say it.”

“I do, and I will say it.”

“Then why did you ask for… casual!?”

You’re blushing when his cock is revealed, and it’s massive, thick and heavy, his reddened tip drooling precum. It’s so big you can’t understand how it would fit, your hand barely circles the girth, looking so tiny against him, he’s ridiculously big. You nervously look up, seeing his eyes dilated, his lashes lowered, Sukuna’s hands come to enwrap in your loose hair, gripping it.

“Answer me, brat. Now.”

“Because if that’s how you want to, I’ll do it. I want you, I have wanted you.” He exhales, jerking when you lick his tip.

“I don’t want to be casual with you, okay!?” You smile, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare smile like that. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna be all mushy and dumb.”

“I don’t want to be casual either.” He cups your face with his other hand, groaning when your hot mouth starts sucking him in, there’s too much of him, you barely get the tip and an inch or two, swirling your tongue, tasting the salty precum, his musky scent filling your nostrils.

“F-fuck…” Sukuna’s stuttering, you swear you hear him whine, but you wonder if it’s a trick of your ears, his hand on your face shaky when he starts thrusting his cock in your mouth, eyes locked on yours. “Stupidly pretty brat.”

He might as well say ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ because your body reacts, already having had so much pleasure you’re wet again, when he yanks you more on his cock, shoving it deeper. You’re breathing through your nose as he fucks your throat, as he’s gasping and moaning out your name, you finally think you have a rhythm when he pulls you off.

“Was it okay?” You ask nervously, he shoves you on your back, between your thighs in an instant then, you gasp for breath.

“Okay? Sucked it like some pro. You lyin’ t’me?” You giggle, shaking your head and catching his gaze.

“Watch porn though.”

“Porn ain’t shit to what I’m gonna do.” You’re crying out as his tip leaks precum along your clit, biting your lip when he’s pressing into your tight ring of muscles, your nails dig into his back, feeling the taut skin. “If we do this, you’re never fucking anyone, never. Fuckin got me brat?”

You blink a bit, as his tip presses in, stretching your skin. “You love me too, don’t you Kuna?” You tease, he scoffs, but then nods just a bit, and kisses you, pressing past your barrier, you gasp at it, at the pain, being stretched by him. “Ow! Shit!”

“Shit… y-you’re too tight… loosen the fuck up, brat.” You glare up at him, throbbing from the pain now, he’s barely holding on.

“I can’t. Y-you’re an idiot!”

“Running your mouth?”

“You’re too big!”

“Fuck…” He eases back, leaning up on an elbow, hand slipping down and rolling on your clit. “Relax, annoying ass. Even your pussy is stubborn.”

“You’re… so… ah!” His circles are rough, calloused thumb pressing on your little engorged clit, when he sinks in again.

“Relax, now.” His husky voice gives you that order, you do so then, exhaling and looking into his eyes, that are so dark they look black, you nod weakly. “You… are you alright?”

“You care, aw.” You can’t help it, you’re grinning all fucked up.

He glares again, this time thrusting deep, you scream out at it, he moans, biting your neck again, big hand gripping your thigh and lifting it higher. “Fucking feel her, gripping me my god. She’s mine, huh?”

“Y-yours, Kuna.” Your little whimper destroys him, your cunt pulsing around him, stretching and getting wetter to accommodate, and he begins actually fucking you then, you’re so wet, hot and tight he can’t stand how good it feels, he’s already dreaming of breeding this little cunt as you convulse under him.

“F-fucking love it, slutty little pussy.” His words along with his tip dragging against that spot in your walls send you reeling, you hear it now the skin smacking, his balls slapping your ass, wetness squelching when he pulls back, gripping your hips with a wicked grin. “Look, fucking your guts up, huh?”

He forces your chin to look down at the ridiculous bulge in your tummy, you gasp at it, clinging to his sheets now, so full when he sinks more of his cock in you, so much you don’t think he’ll fit fully, he’s already slamming your cervix. His hands slip up your hips, yanking you down further, you scream out at how good it feels.

“Ruin you, no one… n-no one’s gonna do this, yeah?” He leans over just a bit, fucking you harder, thrusts so rough your tits jiggle, your body moves. “Use you as my little fuck toy, pretty toy, so fucked out and stupid.”

“Ngh!” You are stupid, your eyes are rolling back, you’re drooling, incapable of doing anything but pulsing on his cock now, of desperately clinging to him.

“S-say it, brat.” He’s shoved his cock so deep, your cunt is dripping down his veiny length, you’re whimpering desperately, nodding. “That’s it, cum f’me, lemme feel her clamp down. F-fuck, there she is…”

Now Sukuna is full of nonsense, you’re both mumbling as he does ruin you for anyone, as you ruin him for anyone, he’s kissing you sloppy, his tattooed hand wraps your throat. He squeezes just so, you’re fading as he rails your cunt, muttering filthy, nasty words, you were a virgin, but he sure the fuck wasn’t taking it easy.

Well, you didn’t think he was, Sukuna actually is taking it easy.

He’ll wait before he goes where he wants to, but you so eagerly open your mouth for his spit, desperately cumming all over his cock then. “Made f’me, pussy she’s m-mine, hmm?”

You’re getting choked, swallowing spit, and this asshole asks you a question? You manage a nod, as he slows finally, releasing your throat, hand slipping up your titty to pinch your nipple, hips rolling just so, jerking his cock against your bruised cervix. You’re a stupid mess under him, sputtering when he finally slows his rhythm, when he thickens impossibly in you.

“I’m never pulling out of you, on something?” He huffs, you blink in confusion as he grins. “Asked ya a question brat.”

“On… pill… mmm…” He moans now, exhaling.

“Good, hah-” He thrusts deep again, you’re fluttering around his length. “Wouldn’t pull out anyway. I’d knock you the fuck up, breed your slutty cunt.” You’re done for, when he starts spurting cum, crying out in your ear, taking over everything with his huge body on top of you, in you, around you. He’s cumming so much it’s ridiculous, coating your walls, filling your belly full. “Oh f-fuck… fuckin love you…”

You blink as you come to, as your cum and his are pushed out with each thrust, your thighs shaking, head buzzing from pleasure. He looks at you then, eyes desperate, biting his lower lip while you put it together. “You love me, Kuna?”

“Shut up.” You smile when he kisses you again, and well… you don’t just fuck once for your first time.

You’re fucking in the shower to ‘clean up’ and then he’s got you up on the counter, devouring your pussy again, seeing how many times you can cum, soon he’s got his game going, showing you the controls as you’re cockwarming him. You’re so sore no amount of ibuprofen will fix it, but you want more, you’re grinding on him as you wear his headset, getting shot hopelessly by the players.

That’s where Yuuji finds you all, your tits out, Sukuna half naked, big hands on your hips with his cock inside you, you gasp then, covering your tits with your hands, but Sukuna just laughs, kissing on your shoulders. Yuuji covers his face, turning away quickly in embarrassment.

“K-kuna… s-stop…” You whisper, but Yuuji waves at you all, covering his eyes with a smile.

“You’re getting along!”

“Um… yeah.” You manage, and Sukuna’s laughing so hard it’s annoying, he doesn’t pay attention to your glare.

“Cool… um… bye.” He hides in his room, you try to get up, but Sukuna has you pinned down, tilting your head and kissing you.

“You’re insane, Sukuna.”

“You love that shit.”

“Shush. Show me the… g-game…”

The teammates are very curious why Sukuna started sucking at Call of Duty that day, but he has his new very annoying girlfriend to blame, she’s just squeezing his cock too good.

A/N I really have been feeling some Sukuna latelyyy, I hope ya'll enjoyed the smut aha!! <3

Taglisttt: @yenayaps @schlokki @elliesndg @thelightknight21 @attackonnat @indiewritesxoxo @sylussss7 @ninikrumbs @zezedoesshit @iveiveim @spacefae-x @maomimii @moonchhu @jinxiewritings perma tags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @aldebrana

All my sukuna oneshots hereee

[classyrbf]

SHE SAID IT'S HER FIRST TIME! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...older bf!nanami finds out he’s your first time and he intends to make it very special

INFO...older bf!nanami x virgin fem!reader, age gap (earlier 20s, early 30s), virginity loss, consent checks, praise, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy eating, penetration, slight blood, slight crying, creampie, nanami grows kinda feral, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Having Nanami as an older boyfriend was such a joy. The maturity, thoughtfulness, communication, love, commitment, and patience you received from him was more than you could have ever asked for. You were always so open with him, telling him everything and just being the annoying girl friend you were. But, there is one thing that you’ve kept hidden for the last six months of your relationship.

Every time things got heated between you Nanami while making out or getting handsy, you always backed out last minute telling him that you “weren’t ready” and he always understood and respected your boundaries. Though, you are ready. If you were to lose your virginity to anyone you’d want it to be your sweet loving boyfriend. But voices in the back of your head start to make you overthink, wonder if he’ll even want you anymore if you confess to him.

It isn’t until you’re here on his bed, hands tangled in his hair while kiss him slowly, passionately. His hands are roaming all over your body, still careful to be respectful. You’re pushing into him, smiling in between kisses. “Have I ever told you how much of an amazing kisser you are?” He chuckles, peppering kisses along your jawline.

A blissful sigh escapes your lips before you answer, “no.” You shake your head, his lips traveling lower down to your neck. Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, enjoying the moment. His tongue glides along the skin of your neck, gently sucking and kissing, earning little whimpers from you as a reward. His hand grabs at your leg, hooking in over his waist as he pushes his hips into you.

Your breathing grows shallow, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. You gulp, feeling things grow more intense with each passing second before you push Nanami away. “I’m sorry, Kento, I just—”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand you want to take your time with this kind of thing.” He gently grabs your hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His brows furrowed as he studies your features, eyes wandering every where else but into his. “What’s wrong, hm? You know you can talk to me,” he says in the most smooth voice, one that makes you wanna spill every secret. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. “Sweetheart?” He draws out the pet name, he knows something is on your mind.

“Ken, I feel bad for keeping this from you for so long, but,” you sigh, fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt, “I’m a…virgin.” You finally look in his eyes, clenching your jaw. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, ears ringing loudly it almost drowns out your heart beat.

His lips part, eyes widening at your words. Deafening silence falls upon you like a tidal wave and you feel the embarrassment rush in. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything I…I’m just gonna go.” You quickly scramble to your feet, grabbing your sweater from off of his bedroom floor. Maybe those voices in your head were right. Why would a man like Kento want anything to do with an inexperienced girl like you, compared to a woman who would know how to please him, give him a what he wants.

Just as you were about to walk out his bedroom, you feel a tug at your arm pulling you back until you hit his broad chest. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking at you. “I never said to leave, sweetheart.” He walks you back over to the bed, taking your sweater from your hands and placing it on the back of his chair. You sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for the next words to leave his mouth. Eyes follow his every movement, watching the way he walks over to you and kneels down in front you, grabbing your hands in his. “Look at me.” And you do, eventually, meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

You find it hard to speak, to even get a peep out. Nerves are shot and it feels like your stomach is twisting in knots. “I just thought that—”

“That I’d be upset you’re a virgin?” He asked, putting it all out there. You nodded your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sweetheart,” he chuckles, flashing a smile at you, “you’re too cute for your own good.” He caresses your cheek. “No wonder you’ve been so nervous each time we’ve made out.” He licks his lips, taking a deep breath in before speaking again, “listen, we don’t have to rush into anything. You should’ve just told me, but I understand your feelings.”

You blink a couple of times, your heart rate finally drops, feeling more comfortable with the situation. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders, and even more importantly, you were glad Nanami took it so well. “But, I am ready.” You look away from him.

“What?” His brows furrowed, confusion written on his face.

“I’ve been ready, just been scared, nervous…I don’t know.” You shrug, your voice getting quieter with each word you say.

His hand comes up to your cheek, gently cupping it as he directs your gaze back towards him for the millionth time. “Are you asking me to be your first?” He asks in such a gentle tone, eyes carrying a look of adoration in them. Sheepishly, you nod.

“Always wanted it to be you, Ken. You’re so kind to me, and so patient,” you admit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, “I’d love nothing more than to be your first.” He kisses the top of your hand, soft lip pressing against your skin as he stares into your eyes. “We’ll go at your pace, yeah?” He smirks.

Everything in you is telling you to pounce on this man and go at it like animals with how he was treating you. It only made him a hundred more times attractive than he already was. Your lips find his as you both fall back onto the bed, resuming the make out session from minutes ago, only this time it’ll actually lead somewhere. The kisses felt more feverish, more passionate, something that’d you been craving this entire time.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asked, placing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll take mine off too.”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. The fabric slipped over your head, your first instinct was to cover your chest, feeling completely vulnerable in this position. His hands carefully undid your pants, pulling them down along with your panties, discarding the items of clothing on the wood floor. You covered yourself up, shutting your legs and holding your chest.

As you watched him get undressed, your eyes landed upon the obvious tent in his shorts, leaving you turned on. His body seemed liked it was carved from the gods, toned biceps, shredded six pack. He looked like he could just easily toss you around, put in whatever position he wanted. Not to mention, you could see how big he was through his boxers, your nerves starting to wrack up again as you began to wonder if it’d even fit. And once he pulled them down, your eyes widened and worry flooded your face.

Nanami let out a light laugh at the look on your face. “What’s the matter?” He asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs.

“Do you think it’ll fit? It’s just…really big, Ken.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander. He was thick, and slightly long, which is reasonable excuse for your worry.

“It might hurt a little, sweetheart, but that’s why I need to prepare you, yeah? Make it feel good for my sweet girl. Now, don’t hide yourself from me, okay? I wanna see all of you, praise all of you.” He leaned over, kissing your lips again, trailing down further with each one. His hands replaced yours, gently groping your tits, squeezing them in his hands. “Such soft and pretty tits.” He kissed each one. “Can I suck on them? I promise you it’ll feel good.”

Once he gets your approval, he wastes no time, his lips latching onto your hard nipple, hot tongue swirling around the bud. His eyes fluttered shut, a muffled moan escaping his lips. Your hands find themselves in his hair, little pants and whimpers leaving your lips at the foreign sensation. His other hand pulls at your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he gets lost in thought. He pulls his head up, hazy eyes staring back at you. “Doing okay, baby?” He asks.

“Yes, please keep going.” You bite down on your bottom lip, earning a smile from his as he moves over to your other nipple, tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive skin before taking it in his mouth, suckling on it. “Mmm, Ken,” you whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Feeling good?” He places kisses all over your tits, his touches so gentle. You buck your hips up towards him, grinding against him. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re feeling needy, aren’t you, baby? Go on, you can tell me.” The flat of his tongue lays against your nipple again, slowly licking, teasing you.

You bring your hand up to your face, covering it, too embarrassed to look at him, to let him hear you. But with each flick of his tongue more whimpers spill out of you, overflowing. His warm lips press kisses to your sternum, traveling down towards your stomach, getting lower and lower until you jolt up. “What…what are you doing?” You ask, dumbly. It was clear what his intentions were with his mouth just inches away from your cunt.

“Just sit back and relax.” He caresses your side. “Open up for me, wanna get a taste,” he murmurs. He gently pushes your thighs open, scooting lower on the bed. His mouth slightly parts, eyes gravitating towards your wet cunt. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he chuckles, looking up at you. He rests his head against your thighs, lips kissing your skin, worshipping you, savoring you. He plans to tease you as much as possible, he wants you ready.

You body twitches when you feel his fingers ghost over your throbbing cunt, light touches making you yearn for something you’ve never even had before. He kisses down your thighs and towards your pussy, pausing when he finally reaches. He looks up at you for approval and when you scoot your hips closer towards him with the cutest whimper, he dips his head down between your legs and presses the slowest kisses on your clit. The way you gasp makes him smirk, he wonders how you’ll sound when he uses his tongue.

Finally, you feel the flat of his hot tongue dip between your soaked folds, pushing its way up your slit and finding your clit. You sit up on your elbows, brows furrowing in pleasure as Nanami wraps your his arms around your thighs, holding your hips in place. He moans against you, pulling you closer towards him as he starves for more of your taste.

He flicks his tongue across your clit, his chin coated in your juices before he moves his tongue lower, tongue fucking you. You bite down on your plump lower lip, quietly moaning while your eyes watch his every movement, like you were studying him. His tongue slithers back to your clit, circling it before he gently sucks on it. “Hah, fuck,” you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his blonde locks of hair.

He lifts his head, licking his lips to not waste any drop of you. “Hey, pretty girl, can we try something?” His voice is gentle, a sense of security in it. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The pad of his thumb rubs your clit in circles, his other hand caresses your thigh. “Wanna try fingering you while I eat this pretty pussy, get you ready for me,” he explains.

You gulp, nervously looking down at his hands. “Will it hurt as much?” You ask.

“Might hurt a little, but it’ll help. I’ll make you feel good, baby. I never wanna hurt you.” He sits up, moving closer towards you.

You nod slowly, “okay,” you meekly say. Nanami, wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting your leg around him as you both lay on your sides.

“You ready?” He asks, kissing your cheek, his fingers rubbing your slick over your entrance and back over your clit, trying to get you prepared. “Just gonna do one finger for now until you want more,” he whispers into your ear. Slowly, he slides his thick digit into your entrance and you immediately let out a pained sigh. He removes his finger, pressing another kiss to you cheek. “Take your time, baby. You’re okay. Hold on to me if it gets too much.” He continues rubbing your clit in slow circles until you give him the nod of approval to try again.

He pushes his finger past your folds, feeling your walls clench around him as he goes inch by inch. “Mmm.” Your eyes screw shut as you cling onto his broad shoulders, feeling the sting of the stretch. He finally gets it all the way through and you’re panting, clawing at his skin.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he reassures. “Hey, look at me,” he grabs your face in his direction, “it’s okay.” He kisses your lips as you whimper against his. “I’m gonna start moving my hand now.” You hold onto him tighter, the burn making you wince as he pulls his hand back and pushes his finger back in, slightly gaining in speed.

You can’t seem to look away from him, melting into his touch as the pain slowly turned to pleasure, feeling your body accept him just like you wanted this entire time. He presses his forehead against yours, bodies pressed up against one another as you fight back the urge to kiss him until you’re breathless. Your hips rock into his hand, following his movements. “Want more,” you whimper, nodding at him.

“Want more, pretty? Yeah?” He pecks your lips, carefully sliding his ring finger into your entrance. You whine at the stretch, taking in a deep breath when you feel his fingers curl up, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your cunt squelches around his fingers, sucking them in. “You’re doing such a good job,” he whispers, working fingers faster until you’re a moaning mess.

Wet kisses make their way down your neck, moving lower down to your chest as he repositions himself at the end up of the bed, fingers still curling inside you. He pushes one of your legs back, eyes intently watching the way your pussy takes his fingers so well. Without warning, the flat of his tongue presses down your swollen clit. “Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping at the sheets below you. Your body shivers with pleasure, the sensation of his tongue and fingers sending you to cloud nine.

Your head falls back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, legs threatening to close around his head. He slurps your pussy, tongue working its way through your folds to get every last drop. He’s moaning at your taste, breathing heavily through his nose. His hand pushes your leg back farther, nearly up to your chest, as he works hard to drive that orgasm out of you. “Ah! Oh my gosh!” You cry out, clutching at his hair, pushing his head down when he sucks on your sensitive clit once more. “Ken, baby, I think—fuck!” You squeal, rocking your hips on his face. Your legs close around his head as your orgasm arrives, body quivering, and every touch is heightened. That doesn’t stop Nanami, low eyes watching how prettily your back arches off the bed, your walls squeezing his fingers. “Hah! Ah! Yes!” You moan.

Nanami finally lifts his head, chest heaving up and down as he looks at you with the most love in his eyes. “Fuck, baby, you did so good. Come here.” He rushes to plant his lips on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His dick is throbbing, oozing pre from the tip just from watching you cum. “You alright?” He asks, petting your cheek.

“I’m okay.” You nod. “Thank you.” The sweetest smile spreads across your face, one that makes his chest fill with warmth. “But, I think I’m finally ready.” You look down towards where you two meet, only inches away from one another.

“You sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly.

“I promise I am. Just…go slow,” anxiousness riddled your tone.

“Of course. Let me know at any time if you wanna stop.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. The nerves build in your chest, and your stomach fills with butterflies. He repositions his hips, rubbing his length through your folds, smearing his precum. He lightly groans, slowly moving up and down, nudging your clit with each thrust. Nanami notices you watching, he can see you’re still nervous. “Baby, look at me, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He gently grabs your face, staring into your eyes before his fat tip pushes its way through your folds. Your eyebrows raise in surprise before furrowing. He goes as slow as possible before removing himself, letting you take a breather.

You spread your legs further before another attempt, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushes into you again, inch by inch you feel the stretch, the stinging sensation making you grit your teeth. “Ah!” You bury your face in his neck, when you feel his hips finally meet with yours.

Tears fall down your cheeks, and he’s quick to kiss them away. “I know it hurts, sweetheart. Let’s stay like this for a minute.” He wipes your tears, massaging your thighs as you try to accustom to his size. “Gonna start moving now.” He pulls his hips back, his length coated in a mix of your juices and slight blood. “Oh, your bleeding baby.” He looks at you with the most empathetic expression.

“Mmmph, sorry, I’m sorry.” A wave of embarrassment washes over you as it came to mind that it was most likely on his sheets.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s completely normal.” He kisses your lips as he pushes his hips against your again, the head of his cock grazing over a sweet spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?Hah, my sweet, sweet girl—fuck,” he breathily chuckles. And now he’s moving faster, wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. “So fucking tight,” he grunts.

You feel so full of him, like he was made for you. His dick dragging along your walls, his hands holding you close, wrapping around you as he whispers praises in your ear in the most sweetest voice. Your eyes roll back, nails leaving marks on his skin, your toes pointed. He’s fucking you into the mattress, but being oh so gentle about it. “It feels so good,” you mewl as he fucks you deep, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

“This pussy was made for me baby—oh shit—taking me so fucking well. You feel so fucking good,” he moans. He presses into you, each thrust sending your mind spiraling as shivers run down your spine, your body covered in sweat. Nanami squeezes you tightly, kissing your neck, and nibbling at the skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” It feels like your breath is being sucked out of you, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. “Gonna cum!” You cry out. “Hah—yes, yes!” He keeps the same rhythm, tip of his dick kissing your cervix before your shaking under him.

He holds you tightly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as you cum around his dick. Your hands cup his face, searching his eyes. “That’s my girl, let it all out,” he says. He can feel you clenching down on him, the feeling making his dick throb harder. “Always be my good girl, right baby?” He asks. And all you can do is nod, when he starts fucking you faster, almost like he’s grown feral. “It’s good that you know because I’m about to fuck you like you aren’t.” He pushes your knees to your chest, lifting your hips slightly so that he reaches the deepest parts of you. “Nngh, fuck!” He grunts.

“Ken! Oh fuck, fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut, the bed rocking and creaking with each other his hard thrusts. A hand clasps over your mouth in a weak attempt to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“Pussy feels so good, sweetheart. Can’t get enough—fuck—I’m sorry,” he heavily pants. Strands of blonde hair cling to his forehead, eyes fixated on watching his dick disappears in and out of you, your pussy creaming around him, leaving a white ring around the base. He can feel you clenching down on him again, your nails leaving crescent marks in his forearms as you’re cumming for a third time tonight, barely able to form words. “Atta girl. Look so pretty cumming on my cock,” he smirks.

Your back arches into him, legs quivering as he thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier. “Nnngh, shit,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum—ah!” His brows furrow as he fucks you harder, a primal feeling rises in him as he thinks of cumming inside of you for the first time ever. “Baby,” he says with desperation, “baby, let me cum inside you.” A rosy red spreads across his cheeks as he stares into your eyes.

Your arms reach out to him, dragging him down for kiss, legs locking around his waist as you push him closer to you. Nanami groans into the kiss and you swallow every last one as his seed fills you up, coating your walls. He slowly fucks you, making sure to get every last drop of his cum in you before pulling out.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” he chuckles, a glint in his eyes. You laugh with him before he rolls both of you over, you now on top of him. He caresses your cheek and you melt into his hand, a blissful sigh leaving your lips. “You did absolutely amazing.” He smiles. “You doing okay, though?” He wonders, fingertips tracing patters on the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes shut, “I’m doing great actually.” You smile. You rest your head on his chest. “Thank you, Ken.”

“No, thank you. I’m glad that you trusted me to be your first, honestly. It means a lot to me.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You’ll always be my girl.” He continues tracing your skin.

“Really?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “Promise me?” You pout, batting your lashes.

“I promise.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lips before you press a kiss to it. He chuckles at the small gesture. “Let’s get in the shower, together, yeah? Maybe order some food? You deserve it.”

[moonwish]

turbulent events have happened tonight

[ramonathinks]

tags: older reader x younger satoru gojo, squirting, slight overstimulation, oral (f), smut | gojo satoru

note: i actually don’t like this fr but lol

you’ve never had a real orgasm. not at all in your almost 33 years. no man has ever even almost got you there. but you didn’t know that, you thought you had one before. feeling a bit good and then the feeling disappeared. you were… satisfied maybe? but it was always like this with guys your age.

so you knew why it was different with satoru. but man, it was different. really different.

he was 6’7, had a pretty long and girthy cock between his legs and always had a goofy smile on his face. he was 25 and for some reason… he was interested in you, instead of the younger and presumably prettier girls in the office.

from the moment he transferred to your department, he was in your face and trying to get your attention. it was always something with him — picking up some coffee for you, walking you to your car, and flirting.

it was always something small… a whisper in the ear to praise you for the good job on your presentation or a hand on your lower back.

it was supposed to only be dinner. yet here you are, with him in your bed and his mouth on your cunt.

“you’re delicious.” he mutters, lapping at your folds, stretching your lips open so he can get every bit of wetness spilling out of you. he was avoiding your flit, getting closer and closer before he moved away to focus elsewhere. kissing the trail of wetness on your thighs or dipping his tongue back inside of you. your stomach clenched and you could feel more wetness spilling out and that’s when his lips met your clit — a tiny kiss before he rubbed his face into you and sucked hard enough to make your toes curl.

he can barely wait anymore, he climbs off the bed before removing the last layer of his clothing and rubbing his aching leaking cock against your folds. pushing in, you both moan.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, moving his hips back and forth, inching himself in. he’s holding back, seeing your face twist between pain and pleasure.

“please i—” your brain is fuzzy and feels like mush, you can barely think. he’s so big and just from what’s inside, he’s close to digging you out.

“shhh… you don’t have to beg senpai. i’ll give it to you right now,” his face is still wet with your juices as he speaks and he releases a short moan feeling you around him. “feels so good already—” he says.

pulling himself al the way out just to slam back inside of you, before he slows down so you can feel every inch of him. speeding his pace so his tip can just almost touch a spot that you never had touched before… a spot you didn’t know existed, but knowing that he was close to something and feeling it .. did something to you

“sator—ahh!” your thighs are shaking and you feels big pressure in your insides that make you try to move him off of you. “i feel like ‘m going to…” he’s slamming into you with one hand on your clit as if he knows what you’re going to say.

a squirt of wetness flows as he keeps moving inside of you and you can see that wetness on his lower half but he doesn’t seem to mind it; his face is in pure bliss as he stares back into your eyes. he pushes on your stomach more, more wetness leaking onto your sheets. your eyes are rolled back but he grips your thighs and forces you to sit on top of him.

“can’t-”

“but you will, right… for me, senpai?” and it was something about him calling you senpai again that made you squirt more uncontrollably, splashing more than just a stream. he grabs your ass and grips it hard, pulling you up and down his cock. your insides tightened around him and you unconsciously rolled your hips a few times.

you could feel a wave of everything washing over you, his cock hitting a different part deep inside you, which made your back snap and you wrap your legs around him even more, cumming in his lap with a big moan; a mixture of both cream and squirt soaking his lap.

“i’ll make sure you never forget who made you cum this hard.” he kisses you, grabbing your jaw so that you can open your mouth before he spits in your mouth and you groan, sinking your nails into his back.

you wake up late, almost in the middle of the afternoon, wrapped in your sheets and satoru gone. you aren’t so surprised but you put your robe on and walk down the stairs.

you hear talking or a bit of arguing.

“listen kid, im not leaving my daughters with you. now tell me—” you freeze at the voice of your ex and you see a fuming satoru.

“no you listen—”

holding the robe even more tightly together, you walk towards the two men to make your presence known. “c’mon girls, there’s food on the table.” your daughters race to the kitchen.

“wait babe, i made that for us—” you shoot him a stare and satoru shuts his mouth.

“thanks for dropping them off, have a good day.” you shut the door and sigh. “why didn’t you wake me?”

“i tried but you were so worn out. i guess i overdone it…”

“you guess? i never came in my life and you…” you whispered, feeling dizzy thinking about last night.

“let’s get you something to eat.”

[toothfa-1-ry]

YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH

GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?

PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader

FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)

A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins

"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game

You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.

You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,

You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.

You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed

Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again

You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face

"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"

"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"

Your mood swings weren't really helping either

"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise

"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"

he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face

"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.

He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved

He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?

"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side

You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly

"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more

"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change

Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock

"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed

Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed

"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you

"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"

Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos

"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"

"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face

Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys

Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers

Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face

Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness

The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included

The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back

You hit him with a thud on the back of his head

"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you

"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart

"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"

Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"

"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.

The poor thing was only 2 months old

The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place

Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look

"Stop doing that" you scold him

"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you

Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you

"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'

"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu

Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"

"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"

"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while

"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh

"I don't want to eat"

"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"

Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?

"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall

"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity

"How so?'

"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"

Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly

"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately

"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him

"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'

Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly

"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face

"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more

"You still like it though"

You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you

"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,

You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.

The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games

The timing was almost comical

"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"

Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore

"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"

His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"

"Hm?" You ask confused

"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"

"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed

"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship

"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"

"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered

"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"

You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still

"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"

Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face

"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"

Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves

"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"

You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes

"I'm pregnant"

And it all stopped,

You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,

You were scared. Scared of how he would react

He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,

"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"

Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace

"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"

"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never got the chance to"

Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask

"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"

You nodd softly, hearing his words

"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"

"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head

"You still like it though"

You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice

"I do"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ extra scene pack !!

"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"

"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"

Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"

Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets

"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"

Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you

Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"

Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"

Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him

Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder

"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach

Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you

"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in

Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part

Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing

Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"

You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out

"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"

Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it

"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"

Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "

This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little

"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"

nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls

"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.

Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell

"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"

"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach

"Gamora"

Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you

"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.