#i just have this thing where i have to be doing something at all times | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy9-29 · 1 day ago

Note

I actually need a two faced jake where at school hes a sore loser versus when he’s alone with yn—complete menace. Biggest cocky flirt out there. At first, yn didn’t know much about jake until he bent her over and fucked the living shit outta her. I’m just down bad for Jake ok.

Two Faced, One Heart: Who is Sim Jake?

심재윤 x reader

୨ৎ Two versions of Jake Sim—one the shy, clumsy boy who spills his coffee at school, the other the filthy-mouthed menace who had you shaking in his lap just hours before class—and somehow, you’re hopelessly addicted to both. ✉️ wc. 13.1k ⋆˙⟡ ⚠️ warnings : oral (both received), begging, teasing, cream pie, minor slut shamming, bullying, pet names, making out, swearing, harsh language, haur pulling, unprotected sex

📝: thats so fucking hot omg? I need jake so bad rn it’s not even funny

mndi · req open

———

The words come out before you can stop them.

“Do you think I could get Jake to fall for me?”

Your friends stare at you like you just confessed to having a crush on the cafeteria salad bar.

“Jake Sim?” Min gapes. “The guy who thanked the printer for working?” Jisoo raises a brow. “His Instagram only has twelve followers. Twelve. One of them is his dog’s account.” You try not to laugh. “Okay, but he’s kind of… sweet?” Min scoffs. “He wears socks with sandals.” You shrug. “Maybe I like that.” You don’t tell them that two nights ago, Jake had you bent over your tiny dorm desk, fingers tangled in your hair, voice low and smug in your ear while you struggled to stay quiet. Because no one would believe you.

Not when the Jake they know fumbles over his words in group projects and blushes when people look at him too long.

But you’ve seen the other side. The one who locks his door with a click and flips like a switch. You see him again the next day in class, right on time as always. Same oversized hoodie, same messy hair. He sits two rows behind you and doesn’t say a word.

You don’t look at him. Not really. But you feel him watching you. The weight of his stare pressed between your shoulder blades. Like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. Then, when you stand to leave, he brushes past you. Just a little too close. His fingers graze the small of your back—light, subtle, hidden. But it sends heat shooting down your spine. You catch up to him by the vending machines, just outside the library. He’s pretending to debate between orange juice and sparkling water.

You stop beside him. “Healthy choices.” Jake doesn’t look at you. “You wore that lip gloss again.” Your lips curve. “Maybe I like the flavor.” He reaches forward, selects a drink without thinking, and pays. His voice drops, just loud enough for you to hear. “I like it better off my tongue.” Your breath hitches. A pair of students walk past, one of them waving vaguely in Jake’s direction. He nods back with that usual shy smile, all harmless and mild-mannered.

The second they’re gone, his hand brushes against yours, fingers curling briefly around yours before letting go. You’re not sure your heart knows how to keep a steady rhythm around him anymore.

You didn’t know when it started—maybe it was the way Jake always sat in the back of class, quiet and unassuming. Or the fact that, every time you glanced at him, he never seemed to notice. He’d scribble in his notebook, the only sound in the room his pencil moving across the paper. You thought he was weird at first. Too quiet. Too in the background. The kind of person everyone else ignored. But there was something about him you couldn’t shake. The way his glasses would slide down his nose when he concentrated, or how he always wore the same hoodie, despite the weather.

The first time you spoke to him was after class. Your notes were mixed up, and you needed help with something—so you took a deep breath, made your way to him, and asked.

He looked up, startled. His cheeks went pink, and he mumbled something about being “kind of bad at explaining things,” but he agreed to help. That’s how it started. He was awkward. Shy. And he was perfect. You thought about him more than you should have, even as your friends teased you about how he was “just a soft loser” or “too quiet to ever be interesting.” But something about the way he treated you—how he never rushed you, never pushed, always listened—had you intrigued.

Then, the texts started coming. Small things at first—like a picture of a puppy he saw that reminded him of you. Or a random meme about books you both liked. They came at odd times, too. Late at night. In the middle of the day. And you found yourself looking forward to them, even though you knew he wasn’t exactly the “popular” guy at school.

One night, after a study session that stretched long into the evening, you both found yourselves alone in the library. It was just the two of you, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above, the scent of paper and coffee between you. He looked at you like he wanted to say something, but he never did. Instead, he helped you pack up your things, careful not to touch you too much, but his fingers brushed yours when he handed you your coat. You thought you imagined it, the little spark that shot through your hand, but the way his eyes flicked to yours said otherwise.

“Uh, good night,” he mumbled, voice hushed. You smiled, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “Good night, Jake.” You didn’t know it then, but that would be the night it all started to shift.

The next few weeks were a blur of fleeting glances, stolen moments. You’d catch him looking at you in class, only for him to quickly look away. Sometimes, he’d find reasons to walk the same path as you, his steps light, as if testing the water between you. And each time, the air between you would grow heavier, electric, like something unsaid was hanging in the space between your words. It wasn’t until one rainy afternoon that things finally tipped over the edge. You were on your way to the library when you spotted him standing under the awning of a building, looking at his phone. His hoodie was pulled up over his head, and he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the rain was starting to soak through the sleeves.

“Jake!” you called out, jogging over to him. “You’re gonna get soaked.” He looked up in surprise. “Oh, uh… I was just trying to figure out when the rain’s supposed to stop.” He smiled sheepishly. “I should’ve checked the forecast before heading out.” You shook your head, already pulling your umbrella out. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re not standing out here getting drenched. You’re walking me to the library.”

He hesitated, then smiled, a soft, shy grin. “Okay.”

You shared the umbrella, walking side by side. The world outside was blurred by the rain, everything muted except for the sound of your shoes on the pavement and the occasional brush of his elbow against yours. It felt casual, but something about it—something about him—made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

When you reached the library, you both stood under the awning for a second, the warmth of the building just inside. You were both still close, the air between you thick with unspoken things.

And that was when it happened.

Without saying a word, Jake leaned in just enough to let his breath ghost against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “If I walked you to class every day, would you still act like I’m invisible?” he whispered.

Your heart skipped, and you didn’t know how to respond. You didn’t know what to say, or what he was really offering. But you knew, in that moment, everything between you had shifted.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

But you wanted to be.

You’d never seen Jake without his glasses.

The guy everyone knew—shy, reserved, a little awkward—was always framed by those round lenses. It was part of his quiet charm, the way they softened his features, how he hid behind them like a shield. No one really saw the guy underneath, the guy who barely made waves, who faded into the background of every class.

Until today.

You hadn’t expected this when you got the text. “Roommate’s out. You wanna come over?”

It wasn’t anything crazy. It could be a quiet hangout, maybe some late-night studying. But there was a strange feeling building in your stomach, something telling you that tonight might be different.

When you knocked on Jake’s door, you barely had time to brace yourself before it swung open.

And there he was.

Jake, standing there, no glasses. He was wearing contacts, and the difference hit you immediately. His eyes, normally hidden behind lenses, were now wide open, sharp, clear. They looked darker somehow, and for the first time, you saw something in them that wasn’t there before. Confidence. A kind of intensity that threw you off guard.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice smooth, low—nothing like the awkward, stuttering Jake you were used to.

“Hi,” you replied, unsure of what to say, suddenly aware of how close he was standing.

Jake stepped aside, letting you into the room. You took a quick look around—same dorm, but the vibe was different. The room was tidier than you expected, clean, almost meticulous. No clutter, no random piles of clothes or books. It felt… like a space where Jake had control, where things were on his terms.

“You can sit wherever,” Jake said, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to it now, something about the way he stood that was different from the usual quiet guy you saw on campus.

You sat on the edge of his bed, but you didn’t know where to look. His eyes were still on you, and the way he watched you made the air between you feel thick, charged.

He took his time, like he wasn’t in any rush. “You didn’t expect this, did you?” Jake’s voice was quieter now, almost like he was daring you to admit it.

You shifted slightly, trying to act casual, but it was hard. “No. I didn’t think you’d be like this.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of shy, soft smile you were used to. It was different. “Like what?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged. “I don’t know. More… sure of yourself. Less… nervous.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, and there was a flash of something dark in his eyes. “You think I’m nervous?”

You nodded slowly, testing him. “Yeah. I mean, you’ve always been… kind of quiet.”

Jake took a step closer, his expression unreadable now, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not shy. Just don’t feel the need to put on a show for anyone. And I don’t think you’re stupid enough to believe I’m some clueless guy.”

You stayed silent, suddenly aware of how close he was now, how his presence filled up the space between you.

He was different tonight. No hesitation. No awkward stutter. Just… Jake. But the version of him that you never saw—sharp, self-assured, and unbothered by anything or anyone around him.

“Want to see how different I am?” he asked, his voice lowering, the question hanging in the air.

You barely had time to process before his fingers brushed your arm, the simple touch making your heart race. And just like that, you realized you weren’t ready for the change that was happening between you—but you were already in too deep to turn back.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you agreed to come over, but it wasn’t this.

Jake leaned against the wall in front of you, and for the first time, you felt a shift in the way he held himself, like there was something between you that wasn’t there before. His gaze didn’t flicker away from yours, and his posture was different. He was comfortable—too comfortable, and it made the room feel smaller, hotter.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Jake beat you to it, his voice low and steady. “You don’t look at me the same way you used to.”

Your chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re looking at me like you’re seeing me for the first time. Like I’m not just the quiet guy in the back of class.”

You tried to ignore the way his words made your pulse pick up speed. He was right, and it unsettled you more than you wanted to admit. The Jake you knew was always reserved, always hiding behind his quiet act. But the Jake in front of you now? He was different. More sure of himself. More… commanding.

Before you could find the right words, Jake pushed off the wall and closed the distance between you. He didn’t touch you at first, but you could feel the heat coming off him. You took a shallow breath, the air between you thick with tension.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You shook your head, but you could feel the unease building in your stomach, creeping up your chest. It wasn’t nerves—it was something else. Something new. Something dangerous.

He seemed to sense it, that tiny shift in your energy, and it made him lean in closer. “You can admit it,” he whispered. “I won’t bite.”

Your lips parted slightly at the sound of his voice, thick and low. There was nothing innocent about him now. You could see it clearly. This wasn’t the guy who stumbled over his words or blushed at the slightest attention. This was a version of Jake you hadn’t been prepared for.

And now that you were seeing him—really seeing him—you weren’t sure you wanted to turn away.

Jake’s hand came up to touch your chin, his thumb brushing over your skin with purpose. He tilted your head slightly, studying you like you were a puzzle he was dying to solve. His touch was slow, deliberate, and it made every nerve in your body stand on edge.

“Do you like this?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing along your jawline. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you found yourself staring at him, watching how his eyes flickered with something darker, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake’s smirk only grew, and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft kiss, the kind you were used to. It wasn’t gentle or cautious. No, this was different. This was hungry. It was messy. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment, like he couldn’t wait any longer. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his lips parting against yours as if he was trying to steal every breath from your lungs.

You let him. You let him pull you in, let him show you what he was capable of when there was no one around to see it.

When he pulled away, just enough to let you catch your breath, his eyes never left yours. There was something predatory in his gaze now, something that made your pulse race.

“You’ve been looking at me for a while,” Jake murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “You never thought I could be like this, did you?”

You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for something to say, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

Jake smiled, that same smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll show you just how different I can be.”

And that was when you realized—there was no going back now.

Jake’s lips hovered just inches from yours, his breath mixing with yours, the tension in the air making every nerve in your body feel alive. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you could see the way he was waiting for you—waiting for you to decide how far you wanted to go, how far you were willing to let things shift.

You had never seen him like this. The quiet guy you knew had been replaced by someone far more confident, far more intense. His hand was still resting at the back of your neck, and the way his thumb traced small circles against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

He didn’t kiss you again right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you, watching for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you weren’t ready. His thumb grazed your jaw again, this time a little firmer, almost as if he was marking his territory, making sure you knew he was in control now.

And then, without warning, he pressed his lips against yours again—but this time, the kiss was slower. It was deeper, more deliberate, as if he was savoring it. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of his body against yours.

You tried to breathe, but it was hard. It felt like the world was closing in around you, leaving only the two of you in that small, charged space. You couldn’t focus on anything except the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands shifted, each touch sparking a new wave of heat in your body.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice low, gravelly. “I told you… I’m not the guy you thought I was.”

You nodded, your throat tight, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You could barely process what was happening. Everything about this felt different, so different from anything you’d imagined. The shy, awkward Jake had been replaced by someone who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted.

His lips trailed down to your neck, and the soft press of his mouth against your skin made your breath catch in your throat. He moved slowly, deliberately, his hands never straying far from you. The warmth of his touch spread through you, and you felt your body responding in ways you hadn’t expected.

“Jake,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as his lips traced along your collarbone.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something primal. “Tell me what you want baby?” His voice was barely audible, but it cut through the fog in your mind.

You didn’t know how to answer, not with words. You had never been this close to him, not like this, not with the air crackling between you like it was about to catch fire. The way the pet name slipped so easily from his mouth made your pussy clench around nothing. But the look in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze, made something stir inside you.

Without thinking, you leaned in again, your lips pressing against his. This time, there was no hesitation. You kissed him back, a little harder this time, both groaning into the kiss as if you were trying to prove something—prove that you were ready for whatever came next.

Jake didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands slid lower, around your waist, pulling you even closer. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hands were firm, confident as they explored the curve of your back, the tension in your muscles, the way your body responded to him.

Every inch of space between you seemed to vanish, and soon there was nothing but the heat, the closeness, and the feeling of his hands on your skin.

For the first time, you weren’t sure if you were in control anymore—or if you ever had been.

Jake pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at you with that same intense gaze. There was something in his eyes—an unspoken challenge, a promise of something you couldn’t quite yet name. You could feel the tension building, heavy in the air between you, thickening with each second that passed.

He reached up slowly, his fingers brushing the collar of his shirt, and your heart skipped a beat as he pulled it over his head, revealing the smooth skin of his chest. The movement was casual, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His muscles shifted under his skin, the soft light of the room catching the contours of his body, and it was like everything about him felt real now—far more than you ever thought.

You couldn’t help but stare, your gaze tracing over the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. There was no trace of the shy, reserved guy from before. Instead, he stood there—bare, exposed—looking at you with a calm confidence that made your pulse race.

Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His eyes spoke volumes as they flickered to yours, waiting for you to respond, to make the next move.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in the sight of him, suddenly feeling a shift, a hunger building within you that mirrored his own. It was a quiet power, a tension you could feel in your very bones.

Jake’s eyes never left yours as you stood there, frozen for a moment. The air felt thick, charged, as if time had slowed down, and the weight of his gaze made everything around you fade into the background.

He stepped toward you, his chest still bare, his body moving with a kind of fluid confidence that made your pulse spike. Each step he took seemed to make the space between you shrink, until you were once again within inches of him. He didn’t rush. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring every moment.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice low, steady. The question hung in the air, but there was no hesitation in his tone—only the calm certainty of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded, though words seemed impossible to find. The only sound in the room was the quickening rhythm of your breath, mingling with his.

Jake’s hand reached for the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin as he lifted it, gently pulling it over your head. You let him, your heart pounding in your chest, your skin heating under his touch. He didn’t rush, his hands tracing the curves of your body with careful attention, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

When your shirt finally joined his on the floor, he stepped back slightly to take you in, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin. His eyes darkened further, a look of quiet admiration in them, but there was something else there too—something predatory, possessive.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, the words low but full of meaning.

You could barely process what was happening, but the way he said it—like he was claiming you, and yet somehow honoring you at the same time—made your chest tighten. His hands were at your waist now, pulling you closer again, and his lips found the curve of your neck. He kissed you there softly, his mouth warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

As he kissed you, his hands moved lower, slowly, deliberately, until he was holding you, guiding you gently toward his bed. There was no rush, no urgency—just the feel of his strong hands, the weight of his body against yours, and the soft pressure of his lips as they trailed down to your collarbone.

Jake was taking his time, savoring the moments. He wanted you—he was showing you that much, but he was also letting you see a side of him that no one else got to experience.

And as he lowered you onto the bed, his lips never leaving your skin, you felt a kind of surrender that you couldn’t explain. He was confident, sure of every move he made. But so were you.

This was new. You were new.

Jake’s lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and you inhaled sharply as a wave of warmth flooded your body. His kisses were slow, teasing, each one leaving a faint, tingling trail on your skin. You could feel his breath against you, warm and steady, as he placed soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

His hands, still resting on your waist, tightened their grip slightly, pulling you closer to him. Every movement was deliberate, purposeful, as if he was in no rush to get anywhere, wanting to savor every moment.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jake murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. The words sent a shiver down your spine, stirring something deep inside you. His praise, soft yet commanding, made your heart race even faster, the air between you growing thick with desire.

You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body reacting to the way his voice made you feel—like you were exactly where you needed to be, like you were his.

Jake smiled against your neck, the words lingering in the air. “So good for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing the spot again. You could feel the confidence in his words, the way he was claiming the moment, claiming you. The heat that had been building between you both was undeniable now, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was no longer the shy, quiet guy from school.

This was Jake. The Jake who knew exactly what he wanted—and wasn’t afraid to take it.

The room felt smaller now, even with the space around you. The air was thick with a quiet tension, a sense of something inevitable hanging between you two. Jake was no longer standing across from you, maintaining that careful distance. He was close—too close—and it was clear that neither of you wanted to back away.

You could feel the pull of him, an invisible force that seemed to draw you in, making it impossible to ignore the heat that had been simmering between you both. You’d known this feeling, this desire, had been building for weeks. But now it was no longer just something you could push aside, something you could pretend wasn’t there.

“Do you trust me?” Jake’s voice was soft, but there was a weight to it, a seriousness that sent a ripple of excitement through you. He was close now, his chest nearly brushing yours, and the way he spoke made it clear he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity.

You nodded, unable to find your voice for a moment, the words lost in the heat of the moment. Jake smiled—genuine, a little wicked—and his hand reached out to guide you toward the desk.

The desk that had become a symbol of something you didn’t even fully understand yet. He placed his hands on your hips, his touch firm but not rough, leading you with careful, deliberate steps. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the edge of the desk against the back of your knees.

He stopped, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he whispered, “Stay still for me baby.”

There was an undeniable force in the way he held you, a promise in his words. Your pulse raced as your hands rested against the cool surface of the desk. The room was suddenly quieter, the sounds of your breaths louder than anything else.

Jake stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his breath ghosted over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. There was a certain thrill in knowing that he was completely in control, that he was in charge.

His hands moved with purpose, sliding from your hips up your sides, lingering over the curve of your waist, tracing slow circles over your ribs. You wanted to press back against him, to feel the weight of him against you, but something kept you still, some tiny shred of self-control.

Jake's hands moved higher, fingers trailing over your collarbone, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips. His touch was firm, possessive, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You wanted to arch into him, to feel the weight of his body against yours, but you kept your hips planted against the desk, fighting the urge.

Jake's lips traced a path down your neck, and you could feel the smile on his face as he spoke, his voice low and rough. "You're doing so well for me," he murmured.

The words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice shaky and desperate, "I need to feel you-need your cock."

You could feel him smirk against your skin, his hands tracing slow, teasing circles over your hips. "You that desperate, you slut?" he scoffed, his words like a taunt, a challenge.

Jake's words sent heat coursing through your veins, the sound of your own whimpering catching you off guard. It was a sound of desperation, of need, and it betrayed a vulnerability you hadn't meant to show.

But he heard it. Of course he did. He was so close to you, his body pressed against yours, and there were no more secrets between you.

You could feel the anticipation building, the air around you thick with tension. Jake's hands moved with purpose, tugging at your skirt, and it came down in a swift motion, pooling around your ankles. He took a step back, giving you space, and for a moment, you were left standing in just your underwear.

Jake's eyes darkened as he watched you, the desire in his gaze unmistakable. He moved closer again, crowding you against the desk, and you could feel the heat radiating off his bare skin, the way it made your skin prickle with anticipation.

You looked back to see Jake stroking his already leaking cock, letting out a low groan in the process. You could feel a smirk form on his lips as he shoves your panties aside. “Jesus yn, you’re dripping.” His words brought a throbbing sensation to your pussy, a desperate whimper leaving your mouth. “Jake…please,” you begged. “I need to feel you.” The heat in your body was almost unbearable now, your words little more than a ragged breath as you plead with him, "Fuck, Jake." It was like all the thoughts had slipped away from you, replaced by a pulsing need.

Jake didn't hesitate. He was still gripping your hip with one hand, his other wrapping around your waist as he pulled you back against him. There was no more waiting, no more teasing. He was hard and ready, and you could feel it pressed against you, and you were slick and wanting, and you couldn't take it any longer.

With a low, guttural groan, Jake slammed his cock inside your soaked cunt in one motion, causing you both to let out the filthiest sound.

“fuck, look at you,” jake groaned quietly, fingers spreading your ass apart. “such a filthy little thing, huh? letting me use that pussy mouth like it’s all you’re good for.”

his hand is tangled in your hair now, not tugging—just resting there, warm and heavy, like a crown you’ve earned. you try to stay quiet, knowing that the building has thin walls, spit pooling and dripping down your chin as your rhythm falters under the weight of his words. “Jake, it feels go good—“

“quiet,” he snaps softly, and your lashes flutter as you obey.

good. obedient. ruined.

“that’s it, baby. show me how good you are at taking my cock,” he says, voice almost tender if not for the filth of it. “can’t even breathe right, but you don’t care, do you? you love it too much. love being my perfect little toy.”

you whimper around him, and it makes his hips stutter. his thighs tense.

his control cracks just a little.

“god, you’re so good for me. fuck, baby—so fucking perfect.”

he grits his teeth, hand tightening just slightly in your hair. “no one else gets to see you like this. no one else can. only me.”

your jaw aches. your throat burns. but still, you don’t stop. “this pussy is made for me,” he continued, throwing his head back. “Fucking made for me yn.”

Jake was losing control, his words coming out in sharp breaths. He'd never spoken to you like this before, never so openly, so shamelessly filthy. Your mind was reeling, the sensations overwhelming as he took what he wanted from you, his words only fueling your own desire.

“J-Jake- too much.” you whisper cry to him. He giggles a bit, only looking at you the whole time. “And you love it.” he grabs onto your waist gently.

You help fuck yourself on him a bit faster and he lets out a groan. “You’re so tight around me.. y/n..” he thinks he hasn’t stretched you out enough beforehand. “We can.. do it..” you say, already out of breath.

You spread your legs a bit more, releasing a bit of tension on him. You succeed taking on his big cock, whilst using his shoulders as handles. “You’re taking it so good..” he whispers. You go faster at his praises.

He’s been stretching you out for a while now, and it definitely got easier over time. The slight discomfort turned into satisfying pleasure for you. His swollen tip hits your g-spot every single time, making you want to cum right there. However, he’s been wanting to finish ever since you started. You feel so good wrapped around him he’s surprised he hasn’t let out any further moan yet.

His hips move faster again, getting closer to cumming again. Your puffy cunt is crying at this point, while you let out a slight moan with every thrust. You keep going for a bit before, before rolling your eyes back to cum. “I’m— gonna… I… oh m… Jake..” you struggle.

You don’t get to say anything—your body gives out before your voice can even catch up. Your thighs tremble around him, and you’re a mess in his lap, clinging to him like he’s the only thing grounding you. The sound you let out is raw, louder than before, and Jake just leans back in his chair, watching you fall apart with that smug, wrecked grin of his.

His hands tighten around your waist, keeping you moving even as your body begs for mercy. He’s not letting go—not yet.

“You’re not done,” he mutters low against your throat, lips brushing your skin. “Not until I say so.”

You try to respond, but it’s all heat and haze now. Your chest presses against his as your head drops to his shoulder, and he doesn’t stop—he guides you through every slow grind, every twitch of your body that draws another gasp from your lips. His voice is rough, breathless, right in your ear.

Then his body jerks beneath you, and the way he holds you after—tight, possessive—tells you everything you need to know. His hand slides up your back as you both sit there, the room thick with the aftermath, your bodies still tangled.

You think it’s over. You think maybe now he’ll let you breathe.

But then his grip shifts, and he pulls you right back down onto him, your body jolting at the sudden contact.

A gasp leaves you, and his laugh—low and dangerous—rumbles against your collarbone. “Still so sensitive,” he teases, brushing your hair back as he presses a kiss just below your ear. “Thought you could handle me.”

Your arms drape around his neck again, head buried against his skin, and all you can do is hold on. You kiss the sweat-slicked curve of his jaw, trying to catch your breath while he stays buried deep, unmoving, content to just keep you there—full, overwhelmed, and completely his.

And with one hand still steady on your hip, Jake casually slides his chair back toward his desk, like it’s just another night—like you’re not still trembling on top of him.

Just before he grabs his headset, he whispers, “You should hear yourself.”

By the time you got back to class Monday morning, it was like nothing had ever happened. Or at least, that’s how Jake made it seem.

There he was, slouched in his usual seat at the back of the lecture hall, hoodie half-zipped, glasses perched slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose. He was typing away at his laptop like he hadn’t just had you moaning his name into the crook of his neck two nights ago, skin flushed, bodies tangled.

He glanced up as you walked in. His eyes found yours for a second too long—and then he looked away, pretending to be distracted by something on his screen. You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, like he was fighting a smile.

You took your seat a few rows ahead of him, and a minute later, you felt the faintest buzzin your pocket.

“I had fun.”

You turned around. He was staring at his laptop like he hadn’t just texted you that. Like he hadn’t just ruined you on that same voice he used to answer class questions with a stutter.

Jake was still quiet in public, still awkward. He still pushed up his glasses too often and knocked over his water bottle when reaching for his pen. But now, there was a glint in his eyes every time he looked at you. A silent smugness. A private joke only the two of you knew the punchline to.

And when your professor called on him to answer a question, and he stumbled over the words “data structure,” turning slightly pink, you thought—no one else in this room had a clue. No one knew that he’d whispered “stay still for me” against your skin like a command. That the same clumsy guy blushing in front of the class had told you with a dark smirk, “such a good girl, you took me so well.”

You looked over your shoulder again. Jake met your eyes, and this time, he didn’t look away. Just popped a piece of gum into his mouth, chewing slow, gaze steady. And then he winked.

You almost dropped your pen.

You tried to keep it to yourself—you really did. But your friends had spent the last ten minutes at your table giggling over Jake like he was some weird cryptid.

“I checked his Instagram again,” Yuna said, sipping her iced coffee. “He lost a follower. And he posted a blurry picture of a squirrel once.”

“Do you think he even knows how to use Instagram?” Soojin added, snorting. “He gives off ‘my mom made this account for me’ energy.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too hard.

“What?” Yuna asked, eyes narrowing at you. “Why are you smiling like that? Don’t tell me you actually think he’s hot.”

“I don’t think he’s hot,” you said slowly, stirring your drink.

They leaned in.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat, glancing over your shoulder out of habit.

“Okay,” you whispered. “This doesn’t leave this table.”

Yuna and Soojin practically vibrated with anticipation.

“I went to his dorm,” you started, voice low. “A few nights ago. His roommate was gone. And he wasn’t wearing glasses. He had contacts in. And he—” you hesitated, heartbeat picking up. “He was acting completely differnt. And we kinda.. you know.”

Yuna let out a dramatic gasp. “No way.”

Soojin cackled. “Shut up. Jake? Jake Sim and y/n fucked?”

You nodded slowly, lips twitching.

“And?” Yuna prompted. “And? What, did he trip over his desk accidentally slip his dick into you?”

You hesitated. “We, uh… no…”

Both of their jaws dropped—and then they burst into laughter.

“No, no, you’re joking,” Soojin said, leaning into Yuna for support. “Jake? Jake had you—what, bent over his gaming chair while his twelve Instagram followers cheered him on?”

“I’m serious,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “He’s not—he’s not how you think he is. Not when we’re alone.”

“Okay, now you’re just making it sound like he’s Batman,” Yuna snorted. “By day, he’s a bio major with a screen protector on his calculator. By night—”

“Hey.” A voice cut in behind you.

You froze.

Yuna’s eyes widened.

Soojin slapped a hand over her mouth.

You turned your head slowly—Jake was standing there, tray in hand, his expression unreadable. His glasses were on, hoodie loose, hair a little messy like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Hi,” he said, voice calm, like he hadn’t just caught you mid-confession.

You blinked up at him. “Jake.”

He looked at your friends, then back at you. “You forgot your charger last night.”

He placed it next to your drink, eyes flicking down to your hand for half a second.

“Thanks,” you said, voice quiet.

Jake gave you a lazy smile—barely there, but you knew it. You knew that look now. He turned, walked away like nothing happened, headphones already around his neck.

You turned back to your friends.

Their mouths were hanging open.

“…You’re not joking,” Yuna said flatly.

“I told you,” you whispered, trying—and failing—to hide the grin pulling at your lips.

Your friends were still frozen, processing, as Jake walked off toward the other end of the café like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb and left you to deal with the aftermath. He didn’t look back, but the slow, smug drag of his steps made it very clear—he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I…” Yuna blinked. “Was that your charger?”

You nodded, sipping your drink to hide your smirk.

Soojin finally found her voice. “Did he say last night?”

You nodded again, this time a little slower.

Both of them let out the most synchronized gasps you’d ever heard in your life.

“Girl,” Yuna whispered, leaning across the table like she was afraid someone would overhear, “what the hell is going on? That’s not even—Jake? Like, Jake Sim? He’s—he’s a meme. We literally made a Bingo card of the number of times he trips in the hallway!”

“Yeah,” you said, unable to stop the warmth in your cheeks. “And apparently, he’s also capable of blowing my back out while explaining the difference between RAM and ROM.”

Soojin shrieked. “Stop!”

You were laughing now, the kind that bubbles up and won’t stop. It was ridiculous. All of it. And yet, every time you thought about the way he kissed you—like he knew what he was doing, like he’d been waiting for the right moment to show you—you felt your knees threaten to give out.

“Okay,” Yuna said, gripping your arm. “So, wait. Is he, like… your boyfriend now? Or is this just an elite phase?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it again.

You hadn’t even thought that far.

Jake hadn’t said anything official. No labels. No talks. Just quiet texts. A stolen charger. A wink in lecture. And the memory of him whispering in your ear, voice low and breathless, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “But I don’t think this is just a one-time thing.”

At that exact moment, your phone buzzed again.

“also, I meant every word I said to you”

Your head snapped up. Across the room, Jake was seated with his laptop open, headset slung around his neck, biting into a sandwich like the most innocent man alive.

Your stomach flipped.

This menace. This liar. This actor.

Your thumbs hovered over the screen, a mix of embarrassment and fondness curling in your chest.

“you’re actually evil”

“i hate you”

“i hate that i don’t hate you”

A beat passed.

“you’re cute when you fluster. wanna come over after chem?”

Your friends didn’t even need to ask who you were texting. They saw your face and groaned in unison.

And for once, you didn’t even deny it.

Jake was a master of the double life. You didn’t know how he did it, but it was like he could flip a switch whenever he stepped foot in the hallways of the university.

In class? A complete disaster.

The shy, bumbling guy you’d always seen—his glasses slipping down his nose, tripping over his own feet as he made his way to his desk. He’d stammer when he spoke to the professor, barely making eye contact with anyone, and was always the first to look down at his phone when group discussions came up. The Jake everyone saw was awkward, quiet, and somehow endearing in his nerdy way. The one who sat by himself in the cafeteria, fiddling with his notebook, hoping no one would notice him.

And yet, you knew. You knew there was something more beneath that awkward exterior. Something darker, something confident. You’d seen it for yourself, just two nights ago. The quiet guy who barely spoke a word in class had turned into a completely different person behind closed doors.

But here, in the hallway, between classes, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that same Jake was the one who had you shivering under his touch, whispering praises into your ear like he owned you.

You were walking past his usual spot in the library when you caught him fumbling with a stack of books, his face scrunched up in concentration. He didn’t notice you at first, too focused on his task. But when he looked up, the usual blush crept up his neck, and his mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Hi,” you said casually, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You need help with those?”

He gave a nervous laugh, adjusting his glasses and dropping the books onto the table like his hands suddenly didn’t know how to hold them anymore. “Uh, yeah, no, I—um, I got it. Thanks, though.”

You could barely contain your laughter. Here he was, this guy who had literally whispered praises in your ear only days ago, looking like a total mess in front of you. He couldn’t even manage eye contact without turning an embarrassing shade of pink.

“So,” you said, leaning against the bookshelf beside him, your arms casually crossed. “You been doing any more squirrel photography lately?”

Jake froze, his face flushing deeper. “Uh, n-no,” he stammered, grabbing his books a little too quickly. “I— I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was like watching a completely different person. Gone was the guy who had held you close, kissed you with authority. Gone was the guy who made you forget everything when his lips were on your neck. Now, he was just a bumbling mess, avoiding your eyes, looking everywhere but at you.

“You’re so weird,” you teased lightly. “You know, I’ve been wondering… is it really the glasses, or is it the awkwardness? Which one is the real you?”

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He just looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and—was that a hint of guilt? Like he had a secret he didn’t want anyone to know.

“Never mind,” you said with a smirk, walking away from him. “Keep up the good work, loser.”

You could feel him watching you, probably frozen in place, but you didn’t care. It was almost unbelievable how different he could act when it was just the two of you alone in a room. The guy who couldn’t make it through a simple conversation in public had turned into the man who made you forget your own name when he had his hands on you.

But for now, all you could do was shake your head and laugh, marveling at how Jake was pulling off his double life—completely clueless and completely in control, all at once.

The cafeteria went silent the moment you walked past your usual table and headed straight for his.

Jake was sitting alone, as usual—tray of barely-touched food in front of him, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like he was trying to disappear into himself. He was hunched over his phone, earbuds in, completely unaware of the social earthquake that was about to hit.

You plopped down across from him without warning.

His head snapped up. He blinked, startled. “Wh—uh… hey?”

Conversations around you dipped, and you could feel the whispers starting. Not subtle ones either. Real, full-body turns. Eyes darting. Forks pausing mid-air. People whispering you’re joking, is that Y/N? and she’s sitting with him?

You just smiled, opening your drink like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Relax,” you said, lowering your voice and leaning forward just a little. “You’re acting like I just declared war on the entire social order.”

He pushed his glasses up and blinked a few times. “You… you don’t usually—uh, sit here.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “But today I felt like sitting with my favorite academic weapon slash secret menace.”

Jake choked on his water.

You grinned. “Also, I think I’ve figured you out.”

He swallowed hard. “F-Figured me out?”

“Yup.” You tilted your head at him, keeping your voice low and teasing. “I think your glasses are what activate your awkward personality. Like a switch. You wear them? Jake the human embodiment of a shy turtle. You take them off? Boom. Total menace.”

His ears turned pink. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual but failing completely. “They’re prescription…”

“And yet they’re also your disguise,” you smirked.

Around you, the buzz of conversation slowly picked back up. Everyone was still sneaking glances, but they were getting bored now that you weren’t making out on the table or confessing your love with a boombox overhead. One by one, people returned to their own lunches.

And that’s when he looked up at you—and really looked.

The second your audience was gone, the timid act melted off his face like it had never existed. His back straightened. His expression shifted, eyes sharpening just a little, mouth tugging into that familiar slow smirk that made your stomach flip.

“You like the glasses?” he asked, voice lower now, smooth and lazy.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden switch.

He leaned forward on his elbows, gaze steady and annoyingly smug. “You think that’s what keeps me from bending you over this table right now?”

You nearly choked on your drink.

“There’s the menace,” you muttered, eyes narrowing as your pulse spiked.

Jake smiled like he’d just won something. “You came to my table, remember?”

“And now I’m questioning everything.”

He laughed under his breath, picking up a fry from his tray and tossing it into his mouth like he had all the time in the world.

“Too late,” he said, chewing. “You already made your choice. Better hope no one figures out what I look like without the glasses.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you threatening me?”

He grinned. “I’m warning you.”

And just like that, he went back to sipping his water, glasses slipping again, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. Back to harmless, quiet Jake.

But you knew better now.

So did he.

You were two seconds away from dragging Jake by the collar.

He sat stiffly next to you on the couch, surrounded by your friends, looking like someone who’d just been dropped into a completely foreign dimension. His hoodie was zipped all the way up to his neck, hands tucked into his sleeves, legs pressed together like he was trying to take up the least amount of space possible.

Your friends were trying. God bless them, they were.

“So, Jake,” Yuna said, passing him a slice of pizza. “What are you majoring in again?”

Jake blinked. “Um. Bio.”

Silence.

Soojin tried to jump in. “Cool! Are you doing like, pre-med or something?”

Jake stared at the pizza in his lap like it personally offended him. “No.”

You gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. He flinched. “I, uh… I just like cells.”

More silence.

You shot him a look.

Jake gave a weak smile. “Cells are nice.”

You excused yourself to the kitchen before your soul could physically leave your body from secondhand embarrassment. Jake followed, like a lost puppy—but once the two of you were out of earshot, you whirled on him.

“Are you serious right now?”

Jake blinked innocently. “What?”

“You’re acting like a scared freshman at their first club meeting. Can you just…” You groaned, tugging him by the sleeve. “Be normal. Be you. The you that had me on my knees last weekend.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You want me to flirt with your friends?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I want you to act like you’re not a socially-anxious squirrel.”

He leaned against the counter with a little too much confidence now. “Babe, I already got what I wanted. I don’t need to charm your friends.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “If you keep acting like a brick wall, I swear to god I’m not giving you head again.”

Jake blinked.

Then he straightened.

“You wouldn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

There was a moment of silence. He stared at you like you’d just ripped the moon from the sky and thrown it in his face.

And then—he sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

You watched him walk back into the living room, a defeated slump in his shoulders. But right before he sat down again, he glanced back at you and mouthed, rude.

You just smiled sweetly.

You watched him march right back into the living room like a man on a mission. No hoodie shielding his face, no sleeves hiding his hands—Jake dropped onto the couch next to Yuna like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t just been threatening to pretend he didn’t know the English language five minutes ago.

“So,” he said casually, draping one arm along the back of the couch. “Y/N tells me you guys stalked my Instagram.”

Your head snapped up.

Yuna blinked, caught. “W-What?”

Jake smirked. “Twelve followers and still managed to bag your friend. Pretty impressive, right?”

Your jaw dropped.

Soojin choked on her drink.

Yuna looked like she’d just short-circuited.

“I mean, I don’t post thirst traps or anything,” Jake continued, tone light but clearly enjoying himself. “Y/n says I should.”

You were frozen. You hadn’t even known he could talk in complete sentences around your friends, let alone roast them.

He glanced at you mid-sentence, lips twitching. “What? You said be normal.”

“This is not what I meant by normal,” you hissed under your breath.

Jake only smiled wider.

“I mean,” he said louder now, eyes gleaming, “Y/N didn’t really stand a chance. She was obsessed with me from the moment she saw me trip over a recycling bin.”

You stared at him, half-horrified, half-impressed. The duality of this man was actually insane.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, but your voice was shaking with barely contained laughter.

He leaned back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other like he’d been doing this all his life. “I prefer ‘underrated.’”

Soojin blinked at you, stunned. “Is this the same Jake?”

“Sadly,” you deadpanned.

Jake stretched his arms overhead, smirking like he’d just won something. “Told you. Glasses on—loser. Glasses off?” He looked at you over the rim of his drink. “Problem.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Because he was right.

The conversation shifted, but Jake didn’t shrink back like he normally would. In fact, he leaned in. Tossed out a few sarcastic remarks, made a joke about the weird guy in your chem lecture, and even stole a fry off Yuna’s plate like he’d known her for years.

You sat there stunned, barely able to process the whiplash of it all.

At one point, Soojin gave you a look—eyebrows raised, lips parted like girl…—and you just blinked back, equally bewildered.

Jake caught the exchange, of course. He always did. He leaned over toward you, his voice dropping low, just for you to hear.

“Still mad at me?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You didn’t look at him. “You’re skating on very thin ice.”

He chuckled softly. “You threatening me again?”

You smirked, finally glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “I don’t threaten, Jake. I warn.”

That seemed to only encourage him. “You know I love when you talk like that.”

You elbowed him under the table, but he didn’t even flinch—just grinned like the menace he was.

Eventually, your friends began packing up their things, saying goodbye, and heading out one by one. Jake stayed close beside you, still riding the high of finally breaking his “awkward loner” act in public.

As the room cleared, he bumped your shoulder lightly. “So… did I do good?”

You stared at him. “You did too good.”

He raised a brow, amused. “Jealous?”

“No,” you scoffed, gathering your stuff. “More like terrified of the monster I just unleashed.”

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder, his grin never fading. “Told you. You’re the one who wanted me to be social. You made this happen.”

You paused at the doorway, giving him a long look. “You’re still not getting head tonight.”

He laughed, following close behind you. “Liar.”

God help you—he was right again.

Jake walked you back to your dorm with a bounce in his step, like he hadn’t just caused a minor social earthquake in your friend group. You kept glancing over at him, trying to find even a trace of the shy, fumbling version of him your friends had always known—but nope. Gone. Completely replaced by this smug, way-too-proud-of-himself creature strutting beside you like he’d just won an Oscar.

“You seriously said ‘bagged your friend,’” you muttered, shaking your head.

Jake shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I was being honest.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirked, leaning closer so his shoulder bumped yours. “But you love me anyway.”

Your heart did a weird little skip, but you masked it with a scoff. “Mm, debatable.”

He laughed, but you could tell he noticed the way your ears flushed. Jake always noticed. Which made it all the more dangerous when he decided to push.

“You sure?” he said lowly, glancing at you sideways. “Because if I remember correctly, few nights ago you were practically begging—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish. “Don’t you dare say that sentence out loud.”

Jake’s laughter vibrated against your palm, and he licked it just to be annoying.

“Jake!”

“What?” he said, completely unbothered, mouth curling into that damn smile again. “I’m just saying, you seemed pretty in love with me when you were—”

“I swear to god, I won’t let you cum tonight.”

He grinned. “Still wouldn’t change what happened on my desk.”

You groaned, unlocking your door and stepping inside, not even bothering to push him out. He followed like he lived there, already dropping his bag on your floor and toeing off his shoes.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you muttered, tossing your jacket on the chair, “but I kinda miss socially awkward Jake.”

Jake leaned against your desk—the very one he had completely ruined you on—crossing his arms with a smug tilt of his head.

“I’ll bring him back next time we’re around your friends,” he said sweetly. “Wouldn’t want to scare anyone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

He took a slow step toward you. “And yet…”

You backed up until the backs of your knees hit your bed. Jake caged you in without touching you, just that cocky little smirk inches from your mouth.

“…you keep letting me in.”

Your breath hitched.

You hated how right he was.

He didn’t even have to touch you—just standing there, close enough to fog up your brain, was enough to make your breath catch. That same smug little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips like he knew. (And he did. He always did.)

You crossed your arms, trying to look unaffected. “We’re not doing anything tonight.”

Jake tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Didn’t say we were.”

“You were thinking it.”

He grinned. “Can’t a guy hang out with his girlfriend without being accused of crimes?”

You blinked. “Your what?”

Jake froze for half a second—just enough to catch it—then played it off with a shrug, looking entirely too casual. “You. My girlfriend.”

“Jake,” you said slowly, “we haven’t even been on a date yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and?”

You stared at him.

He held your gaze, deadpan. “We’ve had sex on your desk.”

Your mouth opened, then shut again. He just kept going.

“I’ve had my tongue in you. Multiple times. You think a coffee date is gonna make it moreofficial?”

You smacked his shoulder, cheeks burning. “You’re insane.”

Jake smiled, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. “You’re stuck with me now. Might as well give me the title.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hands found the hem of his hoodie anyway, fingers curling there.

“This better not mean I have to start posting you on my story.”

“Oh no,” he teased. “Anything but that.”

You sighed. “Fine. One date. But you’re planning it.”

Jake smirked, already way too pleased with himself. “Good. I was gonna make you fall in love with me anyway.”

It became… a problem.

First it was your friends catching you two making out in the library stacks. Then it was the quad. Then the empty art building stairwell. At one point, Yuna dramatically threatened to carry a spray bottle in her bag just to spritz you both like misbehaving cats.

You tried to tone it down. Really. But Jake had this stupid, unfair ability to get under your skin with just one look. One whisper. One brush of his hand against your lower back when no one was watching.

And then there was the incident. The one no one dared to speak about—but everyone knew.

You’d followed Jake into the men’s washroom between lectures, heart pounding, brain nowhere near your upcoming lab. One minute you were teasing him red, leaking tip with minor kitty licks, the next—A very unfortunate and traumatized TA walked in at the exact wrong time.

To this day, you’re not sure who was more horrified: you, Jake, or the TA who immediately did a full 180 and walked straight back out without a word.

Jake couldn’t stop laughing. You couldn’t show your face in that building for a week.

Now every time you pass that hallway, he leans in with a whisper and a smug, “Wanna relive the glory days?”

You elbow him. Hard. But your ears still burn.

Because the worst part? You absolutely do.

You hadn’t even had a chance to settle into the cozy atmosphere of a movie night with Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo before everything went to hell.

It was supposed to be a simple night. You, Jake, and his friends, chilling on the couch, watching some random movie Sunghoon picked out after a few too many awkward silences. You’d been mentally preparing yourself for this, maybe even looking forward to getting to know his friends better. You’d heard so much about them, and Sunoo had been sending you memes for weeks now, always so sweet and teasing.

But instead of a normal movie night, you ended up on Jake’s lap with your lips pressed to his, unable to hold back as he slipped his hands beneath your hoodie. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, and you completely forgot about the stupid film Sunghoon had started. All that mattered was the heat building between you and Jake, the sound of his breath against your mouth, the way he was slowly getting bolder, moving his lips to your neck—

And then, the unmistakable sound of a throat clearing from across the room.

You froze, eyes widening, and pulled back from Jake just as Sunghoon and Sunoo exchanged awkward glances.

“Well,” Sunghoon said, adjusting his glasses with a little too much casualness, “This is… an interesting way to start a movie night.”

You sat up quickly, heart racing. “We—uh, we weren’t—”

Sunoo cut you off with a laugh that had a slightly knowing edge to it. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. But wow, didn’t think I’d be walking in on this so soon.”

You could feel your face heating up, but Jake, the menace, only smirked, his arm still casually draped around you. “I was just showing her how comfortable the couch is. Isn’t it nice, babe?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at that, glancing between you two. “Comfortable, huh? Good to know.”

Sunoo chuckled. “I guess I’m glad we finally got a front-row seat to Jake’s ‘split personality.’” His voice dropped to an exaggerated whisper, adding, “Who knew the shy, awkward guy could get so… intense.”

You looked at Jake, whose eyes were practically glowing with mischief. You knew exactly what that meant.

“I told you guys,” Jake said, sliding his fingers through your hair, his voice low and smooth. “She’s got me wrapped around her finger. Not just with the whole ‘studious boyfriend’ act.”

Sunghoon chuckled and shook his head. “I’m just here for the popcorn, but whatever you guys are doing, you’re definitely ruining the vibe of the movie.”

You swore you could feel the heat radiating from your face, but Jake was entirely too smug, his hand never leaving your waist. “Movie’s overrated anyway,” he said with a wink. “Better company right here.”

The tension in the room was palpable, but somehow, you knew this was just the beginning. Jake wasn’t about to stop teasing you in front of his friends, and now they definitely knew what he was like when he wasn’t playing the quiet, shy guy.

It had been exactly one month since you and Jake made things official, and somewhere along the way, he had somehow charmed all your friends.

Yuna, especially.

What started off as teasing glances and snarky comments turned into him greeting her with “What’s up, my other girl?” in front of literally everyone—like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You’d laughed the first time. Sort of.

The second time, your smile was tight.

By the third, you didn’t even look at him. Just turned around, grabbed your bag, and left without a word. The silence that followed was deafening.

He texted. Called. Showed up at your dorm with snacks, guilty puppy-dog eyes, and one of your hoodies you’d accidentally left at his place.

You didn’t budge.

Not when he spammed you with voice memos or when he got Sunoo to send you dramatic apologies on his behalf. Not even when Yuna told you that Jake had asked herhow to fix it, which was ironic in the most painful way possible.

A week passed. You were starting to miss him—his touch, his stupid jokes, the way he looked at you like you hung stars in his sky—but you were petty, and prideful, and notabout to forgive him over something as dumb as a nickname that made your stomach twist.

But Jake knew you. And Jake never lost.

The night you finally gave in, he showed up to your dorm without a word, eyes dark, hands careful. He didn’t ask if he could stay. Just got down on his knees, pulled you to the edge of the bed, and showed you how sorry he was.

You didn’t even realize your fingers were tangled in his hair, hips shaking as he flicked your clit around with his tongue, breath caught somewhere between a moan and a sob.

By the time he looked up, lips swollen, pupils blown wide, your legs were trembling and you couldn’t remember what planet you were on.

“Still mad at me?” he asked, voice hoarse, a little smug, but mostly sincere.

You tried to speak, failed. All you could do was blink down at him.

He kissed the inside of your thigh. “Good. Because you’re my only girl.”

And yeah—he won. Again.

The next morning, Jake acted like nothing happened.

He was sprawled across your tiny dorm bed, hair a mess, hoodie half-off his shoulder, munching on the cereal you kept strictly for late-night study stress. Like he hadn’t just given you an out-of-body experience twelve hours ago.

You stood at the mirror brushing your hair, shooting him a look through the reflection. “You’re really just gonna sit there like you didn’t have me literally sobbing last night?”

Jake grinned around a spoonful of cereal. “I figured you forgave me when you couldn’t feel your legs after.”

You tossed a hair tie at him. He dodged, laughing.

“You’re lucky I didn’t call you a cab,” you said, turning back around.

“I am lucky,” he said, voice lower now, more serious, “but not just for that.”

You paused. Met his eyes.

Jake set the bowl aside and stood up, crossing the room to wrap his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, voice soft. “I’m sorry for the Yuna thing. I thought I was being funny. I didn’t realize it hurt you.”

You didn’t respond right away. He held you tighter.

“You know I only want you, right?”

You nodded, finally. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I’m your idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, but leaned into him anyway, the tension finally melting.

Later that day, Yuna raised an eyebrow as you walked into the café together, hand-in-hand with Jake.

“Back from the dead?” she teased.

Jake smirked. “Had to perform a little resurrection.”

You buried your face in your drink. Yuna just laughed.

“Oh god,” she muttered. “Don’t tell me it was head.”

Jake shot her a look. “Mind-blowing head.”

You choked.

“Please stop speaking,” you begged.

Jake just kissed your cheek and pulled you closer.

You really were doomed.

You’d completely forgotten your parents were in town until you got the text while Jake was still whispering absolute filth into your ear in the café line.

[Mom]: Just landed. So excited to see you, sweetie! Brunch tomorrow? Bring your boyfriend!

You choked on your iced americano so violently Jake had to pat your back.

“Everything okay?” he asked, smirking like he already knew it wasn’t.

You turned your phone around to show him the message.

He blinked. “Wait. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Like—your parents tomorrow?”

“Yes, Jake. My parents. Brunch. You. Me. And them.”

He stared at you for a full three seconds, then grinned. “I’ve already got the button-up shirt in mind.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re way too calm about this.”

“I’m amazing with parents.”

“You’re amazing at pretending to be someone’s quiet, innocent boyfriend. That’s not the same.”

Jake leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby. They’ll love me.”

“You’re gonna wear your glasses, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Act like you’ve never touched me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll act like I don’t even know what a woman is.”

You snorted, already stressed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Nah. I’m gonna charm them. Just like I charmed you.”

You turned to give him a look. “You charmed me by blowing my back out in a library storage room, Jake.”

“Exactly,” he said, way too proud.

You groaned.

Tomorrow could not come fast—or end—soon enough.

The next morning, Jake showed up ten minutes early to your dorm, looking like he’d walked straight out of a K-drama.

Crisp white button-up, hair brushed neatly off his forehead, his glasses perfectly in place—he even brought your mom’s favorite pastries, like he’d been studying your family’s group chat for weeks.

“You look…” You blinked, slowly dragging your gaze down his outfit. “So well-behaved.”

Jake smirked, tucking the pastry box under one arm and reaching for your hand. “Don’t worry. I left the demon version of me in your sheets.”

You nearly tripped on the way out the door.

Your parents were already waiting at the little brunch spot downtown, and as soon as your mom saw you, she lit up—then caught sight of Jake behind you and blinked like she was seeing a puppy dressed in a tuxedo.

“This is Jake?” she asked, already halfway through hugging him. “You’re even cuter than she said!”

Jake laughed, soft and shy, adjusting his glasses. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s really nice to meet you.”

You sat stiffly across from them, fully prepared for the absolute chaos that was surely coming, but Jake? He played the role like he’d been training for it all his life.

He complimented your mom’s earrings. Asked your dad smart, boring questions about work. Even waited until you were done speaking before cutting into his food.

It was unsettling.

“Jake’s in my organic chem lecture,” you said at one point, trying to keep the conversation neutral.

“Oh, is he any good?” your dad asked.

Jake smiled bashfully. “She usually tutors me, actually. I’m a bit hopeless when it comes to chemistry.”

You almost choked on your orange juice.

Your mom beamed. “I love that. I always told her she’d be such a good teacher.”

Jake nodded sincerely, resting his hand on your knee under the table, subtle and grounding. “She’s been teaching me a lot.”

Your stomach flipped for a very different reason.

By the end of brunch, your mom was begging him to come over for dinner “next time we visit,” and your dad gave him a shoulder pat like he’d just been accepted into the family.

As soon as you were out of earshot, walking back toward campus, you smacked his arm. “You manipulative little bitch!”

Jake grinned, holding up the box of leftover pastries like a trophy. “They love me.”

“You were lying through your teeth!”

Jake shrugged. “It’s not lying if I really do think you’re amazing at teaching me things. Like patience. Self-control.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping in close, voice low in your ear, “your mom just called me boyfriend material.”

You shoved him. “You are never seeing my parents again.”

“Sure, baby. You tell yourself that.”

And yeah, fine—he was boyfriend material. Just not the kind your parents had any idea about.

That night, you laid in bed scrolling through your messages while Jake sat cross-legged at the foot, shamelessly eating the last of the leftover pastries your mom had insisted he take.

Your phone buzzed again.

[Mom]: He’s adorable. Polite, smart, and that accent?? Keeper.

You rolled your eyes so hard your soul almost left your body.

Jake leaned over your shoulder. “What’d she say now?”

You turned the screen toward him. He read it, then bit into a croissant like he’d just won a championship.

“I am polite. And smart. And my voice is sexy, apparently.”

You deadpanned. “You’re a literal demon. With glasses.”

Jake leaned down and nuzzled against your neck with the fakest innocence he could muster. “You weren’t saying that when I was—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth. “No. My mom said ‘keeper.’ Don’t make me reevaluate.”

He laughed into your palm, biting it lightly before you yanked it back. He flopped onto the bed beside you, stretching out with a satisfied sigh like he’d just wrapped up a performance of a lifetime.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded. “Winning over your friends, seducing your parents…”

“Manipulating the entire population,” you muttered.

Jake turned his head, smirking. “But only for you.”

You tried not to melt. You really did. But then he pulled you down beside him, arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into the warm curve of his body.

“You know,” he whispered, voice dropping back into that cocky, devastating register, “your parents think I’m this sweet, respectful, glasses-wearing boyfriend who can’t even pass chem without your help.”

You blinked up at him, breath catching.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “And they’ll never know what their daughter sounds like when she’s underneath me, begging.”

You slapped his chest with a muffled laugh, face buried in his shirt. “You’re the worst.”

Jake just grinned against your temple.

“I’m yours.”

The next morning, Jake was already pulling on his hoodie, his bags—stuffed with random clothes, books, and a few things that had slowly found their way into your dorm—strewn across your floor.

You sat up in bed, the lingering warmth of his body beside you still making your heart flutter. It had become a regular thing now—Jake staying over, bringing more of his things each time, settling into a routine that felt strangely comfortable. It was a mixture of affection and chaos, and you loved every minute of it.

“You should’ve just left your stuff here last night,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Could’ve saved us the trouble.”

Jake smirked, looking up from rummaging through his backpack. “Don’t want to seem too comfortable too soon, babe. You know, I’ve still got that mysterious ‘bad boy’ act to keep up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s what you’re going for.”

He shot you a wink, tossing a hoodie at you. “Anyway, can’t let the world see the ‘good boy’ too much, can I?”

He was back to his cocky self, the guy who showed up to school acting like the confident, teasing Jake you had come to know, and honestly, you couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he flipped between his personas.

You both left the dorm and started the walk to campus, his hand in yours, the usual mix of comfortable silence and random teasing that filled your daily routines.

Just as you were about to walk up the steps to your building, Jake, always the graceful disaster, tripped on the stairs and sent his coffee flying across the sidewalk.

“Are you serious?” you asked, blinking in disbelief.

Jake stood there for a second, coffee splattered all over his hoodie and the ground beneath him, looking utterly stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You couldn’t stop laughing. “Every time. I swear to god, you’re like a walking disaster.”

Jake turned to you, the faintest blush coloring his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck, trying to play it off. “I meant to do that. Just making sure everyone’s paying attention.”

“Yeah, you definitely got their attention, Jake,” you teased. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everyone saw your epic performance.”

He shot you a grin, wiping at his clothes like it would make a difference. “I’m not a loser. I’m just… trying to get a reaction.”

“And you definitely got one,” you snorted, taking his hand and leading him inside.

Even though he tried to play it off as cool, the truth was, you were starting to see a side of Jake that was a little more… normal than you first expected.

And as ridiculous as the whole thing was, there was something about it—the balance of confident teasing and hilarious clumsiness—that felt right.

At least, for you and him, it did.

You nudged him with your elbow. “You gonna be okay, or do I need to get you another one before you wither away in front of me?”

Jake groaned dramatically. “I needed that caffeine. My whole personality relies on it.”

You laughed as you pushed open the lecture hall doors. “Your personality is currently soaked into your hoodie.”

Unfortunately for Jake, your shared class had already started to fill up. A few people looked up as you both walked in—him with wet coffee splatter down his front, you trying not to laugh loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Is that Jake Sim?” someone whispered behind you.

You heard a snort. “Why does he look like someone’s intern who just got fired?”

Jake sat down beside you with a huff, dropping his bag and whispering, “This is the most humbling morning of my life.”

You rached over, wiped a little splatter off his sleeve, and leaned close. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard. “Wait. You think I’m cute even like this?”

You grinned. “I think you’re cute especially like this.”

Jake slumped in his chair, defeated but amused. “I’m literally a walking split personality. Demon boyfriend at night, clumsy nerd by morning. This isn’t sustainable.”

“You say that like I’m not completely obsessed with both versions.”

He paused, looking at you with that soft, wide-eyed gaze he got when you caught him off guard.

“Yeah?” he said, quieter this time.

You nodded, bumping your knee against his. “Yeah.”

Jake smiled down at his ruined coffee cup.

“Still not over the fact I tripped in front of like thirty people though,” he muttered, and you snorted so loud the row in front of you turned around.

At least now, everyone knew—Jake Sim might’ve been a quiet loser to the rest of the campus, but to you?

He was everything.

perm taglist: @kristynaaah @firstclassjaylee @chvconn3 @wonzzziezzzz @sheseung @blvengene @gvtdoll @a3r4-for3ver @sunghoon-cam @luvksnn @aaaaarmiiiiin @blckorchidd @gyulune @marimariiisblog @pinknjm @bloomiize

868 notes · View notes

arsanatomica · 2 days ago

Text

Most people are aware that reptiles like snakes and lizards have two penises. Together they’re called the Hemipenes.

You would assume that they look identical.

They can... BUT NOT ALWAYS.

Usually they’re slightly different, one smaller or shorter than the other. But sometimes they can look EXTREMELY different.

I don’t know why.

This is one of those things that I see in dissections all the time and can’t seem to find any information for it.

These are from a young reticulated python I skinned last week. Look how different they are! I never see anybody talk about this, and as weird as it is, I personally find this really interesting.

From an anatomical perspective: Why are they so different?

Do reptiles have a handedness when it comes to using their penises? Like, do different individuals prefer one over the other?

Do they have different functions or are meant for different types of females?

Different mating strategies?

Are there variations on the female side where one shape is better than the other?

Could this be something that they’re not born with, but develops later from how they’re using them?

It seems more pronounced in some individuals versus others... why?

And also, this is one of those things you never see it reflected in media, I guess it’s too obscure.

I feel like this is something that the furry community and maybe the fantasy erotica community would be all over if it was more well known and better studied.

Dragon erotica is a HUGE genre on Amazon.

Look….I KNOW there’s a huge population of creature designers and other monster enthusiasts following me.

It’s time you guys stopped sleeping on this.....and not a just for erotic art.

Some animals have penises designed to remove sperm from previous partners, so they have a chance to father the child. Could something like this have a similar function?

Isn’t it possible that there could be different types of sperm being delivered?

Different types of females that need different approaches?

Different offspring types?

691 notes · View notes

tbaluver · 3 days ago

Text

S/O With Depression- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested by: anonnie ⋆˚꩜｡ genre: comfort a/n: hihi lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i would like to mention that everyone has different types of depression and goes through different things! i wrote the ones i’m familar with and what the anonnie requested! what might be common for me or from the anonnie that requested can be completely different to someone else! if you want to see more then i’ll write a part 2! hopefully this brings some comfort to those that need it enjoy reading! <3 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Will do his best to be a light and source of comfort for you

Xavier would stay close when getting out of bed feels impossible. But if you needed space, he’d respect that, keeping you company from a small distance in bed to remind you that you’re not completely alone. He wouldn’t let you stay curled up in bed for too long. He’d gently carry you to the kitchen to make sure you’re fed.

On days when your words don’t come easily and your thoughts feel jumbled, he never interrupts or rushes you. He stays quiet, a hand on top of yours, nodding along while letting you speak at your own pace even if your sentences come out jumbled. Occasionally, he might ask a question to understand the context. When you do finish what you’ve needed to say, he’ll work through it together with you

If you were taking any medications, he’ll go through the entire packet and read through any information about it online. He’ll remember all the side effects that come with it and checks up on you whenever you take them

When every little sound starts to feel like it was too much, he draws the curtains and does everything he can to make it more peaceful. He moves carefully, no sudden sounds will be made in this household. Even the way he eats or shifts in his seat would become more gentler. If you were comfortable with it, Xavier would gather you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. His hand rest gently over your ear, blocking out whatever noise is left.

Xavier would offer to listen and be the place where you can let it out. But if it’s an unexplainable feeling that you just can’t put into words then he’ll find a different way to cheer you up. He’ll settle beside you, pulling up your favorite comfort shows and have your snacks ready

Zayne:

Whenever getting out of bed feels like too much, he’ll leave a warm cup of tea and a few slices of fruit or your favorite snacks by the bedside table. He never rushes you so he waits. Sometimes he’ll sit nearby so you don’t feel alone. Other times, he gives you the space you want, trusting that you’ll reach out when you’re ready. But when it starts to feel like too much and the silence grows too heavy, he will step in. Never forcefully. He’ll encourage you to start off slow, a hand on yours. Maybe something as simple as sitting up or maybe just brushing your teeth.

Anytime you went through a depressive episode, Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He’ll help you shower, brush through your hair gently, and help brush your teeth. He’ll praise you for each small step you take

The type to send you reminders to take your meds at the right time and that you should eat something before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

Zayne would understand and has never taken it personally when you don’t want to be touched. He doesn’t try to hug or reach for your hand. Instead, he makes space for you until you you’re comfortable once again

He can tell when you get sad randomly. Zayne would never force you to explain but he will always remind you if you want to talk, he’s there. Sometimes when it’s just a quiet ache sitting in you for no reason, he’ll also understand that. He’ll suggest a walk out for fresh air or just for a different scenery if you’ve been inside for too long.

When the smallest sounds can feel too much, he’ll make sure to move extra quietly. He’ll offer noise cancelling headphones to drown out any sounds. Any open windows will be closed and he’ll draw the curtains to keep the noise out. He’ll make sure to close any of the doors inside softly, silence his phone and pager and he’ll make sure to give you the space you need.

Sometimes the words just don’t come out right but Zayne would never rush you. He would always be patient, even when your voice shakes or when you pause for too long. And when you do finally get them out, no matter how jumbled or messy it sounds, he listens. Every single word and every detail. Once you said all you needed to say, that’s when he speaks and helps

Reminds you that he is always there for you. Even if he was busy at work and you know he can’t reach you right now, you can still message him. He reminds you to never hesitate to reach out, spam him, leave him voice messages. He’ll read through every word and detail and he’ll find time to immediately reach out to you

Rafayel:

You would never feel alone if Rafayel was by your side. Even if he was away from an art exhibition, he would text you throughout the day. If you need him by your side, then he’s finding an excuse to get out of work and find his way to you.

When you’re having a hard time getting out of bed, Rafayel would be by your side under the covers so you don’t feel alone. However if you continue to have a hard time, he doesn’t hesitate to step in. He’ll scoop you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. He’ll start with something simple, like a warm bath since it can maybe cheer you up.

When every noise seems to bother you, he’ll make sure to move around quietly in the studio. He’ll close up the windows and doors so his seagull friends won’t bother you. He’ll even breathe more quietly so he doesn’t bother you. Rafayel would still stay nearby but gives you your space to make sure you’re not alone. He’ll wait until you’re ready to talk with him

Rafayel would never take it personally when you did not want to be touched but he definitely does get a little pouty about it behind your back. He just misses holding onto you but he understands and gives you the space you need.

Feeling sad randomly? Rafayel would never push you to explain what’s wrong but he encourages you that it’s good to let it out and that he’s always there for you. However, if it was unexplainable, he doesn’t make you feel weird about it. He’ll find ways to cheer you up as best as he can. He’ll pull up videos on his phone and you silly videos he found that might make you smile. He’ll even suggest a quiet walk by the beach just for a change of scenery and for some fresh air

Sometimes the right words just won’t come. They get lost somewhere between your thoughts but Rafayel has never once looked at you confused or has never been impatient. He watches you carefully, trying to understand your expression. Sometimes he finishes the sentences for you, not to interrupt but because he’s piecing it together with you. And if you grow frustrated, he offers to sketch it out with you.

Sylus:

On days when getting out of bed feels impossible, he stays beside you but he doesn’t let you stay there for too long. He understands the weight of it all but he will step in. First he’ll start with encouragement, asking you to sit up just for a bit. But if your limbs feel too heavy and your body refuses to move, he never gets frustrated. He’ll carry you in his arms. He’ll run you a warm bath and help bathe you. Later he’ll encourage you to do some small activities with him to get you a little motivated

He would never take it personally if you were not in the mood to be touched. There’s no wounded ego or disappointment. He gives you the space that you need until you are ready to curl up next to him again. He’ll make sure you were absolutely comfortable with it before he reaches back

Sylus would always give you the choice to talk or cry or let it out to him in whatever way you need. But if it’s those days where it’s just unexplainable, he doesn’t press on. Instead, he’ll offer distractions. He’ll pull out a new vinyl that he’s been saving for or maybe stepping out to a new scenery to get rid of whatever ache you have in your chest

When the world feels too loud and your thoughts won’t slow down, no matter how hard you try to explain to Sylus through hiccupped sobs, he doesn’t ask you to make sense of it. Instead, he pulls you into his arms. He doesn’t say much at first, his hand moves slowly up and down your back. He doesn’t need you to have the right words. He’ll listen, hiccupped sobs or not, to every detail you have to say. When your sobs begin to slow, when you start to breathe a little easier, he’s still there, helping you sort through the weight you've been carrying. It doesn’t matter if the problem is big or small. He’ll work them out with you together.

Luckily your shared bedroom is at the top floor to avoid any noises from the city. However if any noise continues to bother you, Sylus wouldn’t ask what’s wrong, he’ll just move around quietly as best as he can. He’ll stop playing any music on his record player unless you don’t want him too. He’ll make sure Luke and Kieran are not in the same building and he’ll make sure to mute Mephisto

Caleb:

Having a hard time getting out of bed? Caleb would give you the space you need, leaving you your favorite snacks and water by the bedside table with a cute little note and a doodle for you. He’ll check in on you often to see if you’ve eaten or just by ‘passing’ by the room. However if it does stretch on, he’ll kneel beside the bed and offer his hand, suggesting a few easy stretches. He’ll encourage just a small stretch for your arms and then legs next and then a small little walk to the kitchen where he has a little meal waiting in the kitchen just for you

As much as Caleb loves to hold you and have you in his arms, he would never be offended if you did not want to be touched. He would never hover and never pressure you. He gives you all the space and time you need when you’re comfortable again

Feeling sad out of nowhere? He would be SO worried, it would be written all over his face. His first instinct is to check in, offering to let you vent out if you need to. He’s always been a good listener. If it just feels unexplainable and you can’t quite name the reason, then he’ll find ways to cheer you up. Caleb would curl up with you and pull up your favorite comfort shows or movies. Or he’ll bring you your favorite snack or make your favorite dish that you love. And of course, he offers his signature big bear hug.

If any sounds were bothering you, he’d make sure to not make a single sound in the house. No loud footsteps in the halls, no clinking dishes, you name it. He’d even go as far as making sure no plane flies in the direction over your home to make sure you get the peace you need.

Sometimes you can’t get the right words to come out and Caleb would be patient with you the entire time. He lets you speak and lets you take all the time you need to get it out. His hand rests on yours, his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over your knuckles as he reads your expressions carefully. If any tears come out from frustration, he cups your face with so much care and wipes away any stray tears.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

ʚɞ Others:

Wattpad ( still updating it rn )

twitter @/ tbaluverr but idk how to use twitter </3

596 notes · View notes

cosmic-dust-poltergeist · 3 days ago

Text

Pt2 of dp x dc au where Danny is the 99th attempt to clone Kon by Tim. Danny is an overprotective 2 year old who hates Ra's Al Gul with a passion.

[Pt1: here]

Tim is more than ready to leave the LoA and stop having to dance around Ra's. He doesn't feel safe, but he needed the resources. Dick made getting them any other way impossible, with him telling the whole hero community he's crazy and needs help and shit. Tim is more than pissed about it, but he can't help but be amused by the outcome.

Sure, Ra's is trying to wife him, and that's awful and terrifying and all, but watching Ra's try to win over a 2 year old who despises his very existence is hilarious. Aedan, or Danny as the toddler is insisting to be called, goes out of his way to be petty to Ra's and clings to Tim any time the man enters the room. Danny has torn or spilled things on paperwork and clothing, left things just out of sight to trip Ra's, put foods in unexpected places as the man steps or sits in it, purposely and maliciously coloured on and destroyed things he found out were Ra's and Ra's alone, and so much more. Tim is kind of proud of the chaos.

But Tim also has to shove down the anxiety that Ra's might have actually did something to Danny while on his missions. Danny was left on base because it was too dangerous to bring him. He tries to get back as fast as safely possible, just in case, though. Danny hasn't said anything yet on WHY he despises Ra's, but Tim is keeping an eye out.

All in all though, Tim has no remorse as he packs up and leaves with Danny in toe, blowing up every base he knows about and draining their accounts on his way out. He leaves Danny with Tam during his final showdown with Ra's, making sure Dick is in the area to catch him. He's not leaving his baby early.

"So I have everything I need to prove Bruce is alive and how to save him. I'm NOT crazy." Tim tells Dick when he wakes up after his fight with a pissed off Ra's, before remembering Danny and chuckling, "Actually, I'm a little crazy. Not about the Bruce thing, or what I did to prove it, but I did do something else insane."

"I believe you... about the Bruce thing." Dick eyes him in concern. "What did you do?"

"I maaaay have cloned Kon."

"You WHAT?" Steph looks absolutely flabbergasted. All his family members do actually, including Alfred.

"Yeah, so, I had a little bit of a mental breakdown." Tim stares at his hands, picking at the nails. "I was really missing Kon and spiraled and now I have a son... surprise.."

There's so much sputtering before Steph slams her hands on the medical bed, silencing everyone and getting Tim to look at her. She's flung her Spoiler mask off and leaning way too close.

"You have a son?? How old is he?? When can we meet him?? What's his name??"

"Er.. his name is Aedan Drake, he insists on being called Danny currently. He's about 2. And you'll be meeting him as soon as I can call Tam. I didn't want either of them near when Ra's came for me." Tim leans away from her. "Especially because Danny seems to hate the guy and puts himself between us at any chance he gets."

"That's concerning" Dick mumbles.

"Yeah.." Tim blinks hard. "I'm not even sure why Danny hates him. I have no idea if Ra's did something to him while I was otherwise engaged. It terrifies me not to know, but I only have the word of a creep and a 2 year old to go off of."

No one seems to know what to say to that. They all silently agree to keep an eye out for any signs Ra's did something to Danny.

"Can you pass me my phone?"

"Sure, Timmy." Dick hands over the phone. "Who do you think is going to be his favourite aunt or uncle?"

"Fuck if I know, the kid is completely different from Kon when it comes to interests. I love it, but it makes guessing what he'll like interesting. Currently, he's obsessed with space and ghost stuff. He likes watching space documentaries over cartoons." Tim chuckles while locating Tam's number.

Steph laughs. "Of course your kid is as weird as you!"

He sticks his tongue at her, and she does it right back. The call connects.

"Tim?"

"Hey, Tam! Not dead yet!" He grins at her groan. "I'm at the manor. Tell Danny to be careful of my ribs before you bring him over."

"Can do. Be there in 20. Danny? Do you want to say hi to your daddy?" Is all the warning Tim gets before his son screeches.

"HI, DADDY!" He can't hold in his laughter. The siblings closest to him look amused, clearly having heard the yelling.

"Hi, Danny! Tam giving you candy?"

"Nooo" Danny is a terrible liar. Tam says something. "See you soon, daddy."

Tam takes the phone before Tim can reply. "He didn't want to sleep before he saw you. I expect he'll crash after seeing your okay, candy or no candy."

"It's fine, Tam. I don't care so long as it doesn't become a regular thing. Now, drive safe."

"See you soon." And the call ends.

Dick sniffles. "My little Timmy is growing up!"

Steph points dramatically at him. "You're a teen dad!!"

"I mean, I'm a teen vigilante and a teen CEO. Being a teen dad is the most normal thing I currently am." Tim says, raising an eyebrow at her. "Beside, you technically were too. Only difference is I'm just keeping the baby I made... Er.. I mean that in the least insulting way possible. I respect your decision, just respect mine."

"Okay, but you virgin Mary-ed your baby. I, at least, got laid for mine."

Tim flushes. "Dude!"

"I'm sure we can still find you someone our age into dilfs and get your cherry popped." Steph grins at him.

"Steph! Shut up about my sex life!" Tim throws a pillow at her and struggles out of bed. "I hate you so much right now."

"Master Tim, please take the crutches if you're planning to leave the med bay." Alfred calls out, and Tim grumbles, but complies. Detouring to the locker room and throwing on a sweater and some sweatpants that's been sitting in his locker for a year. They smell a little musty, but they're clean and cover the bandages. Hopefully his son won't freak out too bad. Losing his spleen traumatized the poor kid.

He heads upstairs to wait near the front door. Dick, Damian, and Steph following behind him like the worse ducklings he could think of. Dick, at least, grabs a chair so Tim can sit while they wait.

"Master Tim, does Master Danny have any allergies? And what are his food preferences?" Alfred asks as he passes out post patrol drinks. Tim doesn't accept his, he doesn't want it to be in the way when Danny comes flying in. Literally. Danny figured out how to float about a month ago, and his feet have barely touched the floor since.

"He's got the same weaknesses as all the other kryptonians. He's not a picky eater and doesn't seem to be allergic to anything food wise, but he hates toast." He smiles at the looks his siblings send him. "Don't ask me why. He just hates toast. Veggies, no problem, but toast? Toast leads to temper tantrums."

Steph cackles loudly at that while a confused Dick chuckles.

"I shall keep that in mind." Alfred sounds amused.

"I've gained massive respect for Ma and Pa Kent. Superpowered toddler tantrums are rough when you're just a human." Tim knows he has a dopey look on his face, but couldn't care less. "Danny's such a sweet kid, though. He gets so distraught if he accidentally hits me and does everything in his childish power to apologize and "make up" for it when he does."

Tim frowns. "Which is another reason I'm worried Ra's did something. Danny would hit, kick, and bite the man anytime he got in range. It seems out of character and more personal than just not wanting to share his dad."

"That is concerning." Dick shares his worried frown. They wipe the looks off their faces when there's a knock on the door. Steph dances over and opens it.

"Hell-"

"DADDY!" A tiny blur darts around her and skids to a stop in front of Tim. He can hear his siblings melt as this tiny child holds up his arms. "Up!"

"Just remember to be careful with my ribs, sweetheart. They got hurt." Tim says while scooping his son up. "You ran right past your aunt and uncles, think you can say hi to them?"

Danny looks at his siblings, seemingly debating if he vibes with them, before waving a tiny hand. "Hi.."

Steph and Dick being overly dramatic and acting like they just suffered a heart attack from cuteness, spooks the poor kid. Danny hides his face in Tim's shoulder. Damian edges closer, blocking Dick and Steph's view. He makes sure to lean down to be more at Danny's eye level.

"Hello, Aedan. I am Damian Al Gul Wayne. I hear you dislike my grandfather. A valid response to meeting the man." Danny peaks at him, and the teen gives him a small smile. "Ignore Stephanie and Richard, they can be a lot, but they mean well."

"Baby Bat!" Dick sounds like close to happy tears.

"Demon Brat! That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" The grin is audible in Steph's voice.

"They are, unfortunately, also idiots." Damian says sagely.

"There it is." Tim chuckles, running a hand through Danny's soft feathery hair. Danny looks between Tim and Damian, there's a calculating look on his face, clearly deciding if he should give this "Al Gul" a chance. "It's fine, Danny. He's very different than his grandfather. If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll introduce you to his pets."

"Pets?" Danny blinks and turns to fully look at Damian.

"Indeed. I currently have a cat, a dog, a cow, and a turkey." Danny literally vibrates at the news.

"Can I meet them?"

"I'd be more than happy to introduce you tomorrow." Tim has never seen Damian look so soft. "You and your father should get a good night's rest. You'll have more energy to play that way."

Danny pouts, but agrees. "Okay."

"Thanks for babysitting, Tam." Tim calls out to the woman watching everything unfold with amusement.

"No problem. He was an angel, even while sugar high." She grins. "I'd be more than willing to do it again sometime. I'm going to head out now. Bye, Danny!"

"Bye!!" Danny floats a little to wave wildly at her as she leaves. Damian keeps his surprise off his face and not moving in the way of the tot's goodbyes.

"Aedan, may I carry you?" Damian asks once Danny is settled back in Tim's lap. "Your father unfortunately needs to use crutches to get to his room."

Tim is amused by the calculating look sliding back onto Danny's face. He can only imagine the kid's internal debate; let Damian pick him up and the Drakes can retire and cuddle in Tim's room or stay right where he is. It never ceases to amuse Tim on how Danny can ping pong between normal toddler behavior and being ridiculously serious. He blames himself for forgetting to adjust the knowledge download when making him. The kid knows about more things than he should, and it's made him more jaded than a 2 year old should be.

"Okay... on'y cause it's bedtime." Danny informs Damian while holding his arms out. Damian gently picks him up.

"Of course." Tim can't believe how cute his murderous little brother is being. Guess he can add small children to the things that make the teen loosen up.

Tim struggles a little getting up the stairs, but he gets there. Damian waits patiently with a worried Danny at the top. Tim is positive that only reason he isn't being teased is because his siblings don't want his protective baby to dislike them. It's funny, but actually really nice. He's really tired of his family's culture of making fun of any weakness. Danny's cute baby face and hatred for bullying is really going to change this place, Tim just knows it.

Dick carries Danny's baby bag upstairs after them. Tim can feel Dick wanting to coo, but holding it in because Danny keeps eyeing him warily. Just adding to Tim's amusement.

Once in Tim's room, and after good nights are exchanged, Tim and Danny get ready for bed. Tim cleans himself up by taking a bird bath in the sink, not fully willing to commit to a shower just yet. He mostly just doesn't want to change his bandages. He also wants to cuddle his son, who's patiently waiting on the bed with his wolf plushy. He named it Wulf, which was a hilariously Kon thing to do. Tim nearly died from cuteness when Danny told him the plushy's name.

Tim lays down and tucks Danny to his chest. "I love you, kiddo."

"I 'ove you, too, Daddy." Danny mumbles before conking out. Tim can't help his smile. He dozes off to Danny's tiny snores.

Tim wakes up to Danny wiggling around. The tot waking up, but not wanting to. A glance towards his alarm clock, 10:30. They've actually slept in. Nice.

"Morning, Danny."

"M'ning." Danny mumbles directly before unintentionally smacking Tim in the face with Wulf. Tim huffs a laugh and sits up, his spin cracking as he stretches.

"You hungry?"

Danny flops over, grumpy to be awake. "Yeah."

Tim grins and scoops Danny up. "Let's eat breakfast in pajamas!"

Danny looks surprised. Tim insisted they be dressed in light armor the whole time they were on the LoA, so the suggestion must seem insane to him. He scrunches up his face. "It's safe here?"

"This is probably one of the safest places for us to be." Tim kisses Danny's forehead. "I'll admit, it hasn't always been that way for me in particular, but we're working on it, and I trust them to not stab me in the back... You're allowed to be as petty as you want if you find them dissatisfactory."

"Like wif Rawthy?" Tim takes a deep pleasure in Danny's deliberate mispronouncing of Ra's name. Danny knows how and can say it properly. He just chooses not to. Tim loves it.

"Exactly." Danny is now completely awake and buzzing to cause chaos. It's adorable.

"Yay!" Tim starts carrying Danny to the kitchen, completely abandoning the crutches he was told to use.

"Just remember to play nice first. You don't want to accidentally bully someone who doesn't deserve it."

"Fine.." Danny pouts. Tim kisses his cheek.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Master Tim. Where are your crutches?" Alfred jump scares the Drakes.

"O-oh! Hi, Alfred, I was just taking Danny to the kitchen for breakfast!" Alfred raises an eyebrow and Tim pouts. "And I didn't feel like using them."

"Oh yeah!" Danny remembers that Tim was using crutches now and is wiggling to be set down. "You're hurt, Daddy! Put me down!"

"Okay, okay, starlight!" Tim chuckles, setting the boy gently on his feet. "Better?"

"No!" Danny drags him to the kitchen's small breakfast table. "You'll never heal! Sit down! We'll get your crontches!"

"Crutches, Danny. And how about we have breakfast first. The crutches aren't going anywhere." Tim smiles at his son. "You can even ask Alfred what my wound care should be after we eat. He can explain everything and you can hold me to it."

"Indeed." Alfred sounds amused, possibly not thinking this 2 year old will hold them both to it, but Danny will.

"O'ay" Danny then blinks. "What's fo breakfast?"

It's all pretty peaceful. Tim just enjoying a lazy morning with his son. As soon as Danny is done eating, he drags Alfred away to get the crutches and explain Tim's wound care to him. Tim can only watch on in helpless amusement.

"He's adorable." Dick grins as he enters the room and sits across from Tim.

"Yeah." Tim is still smiling at the doorway Danny and Alfred left from, but it takes a sad tilt. "Losing my spleen really traumatized him. He polices my unhealthy habits and does his best to get me to take care of my injuries when he's sure they won't be used against us."

"YOU LOST YOUR WHAT??"

"It's been a crazy year."

"Tim, Timmy, my caffeine addicted little brother, I'm going to need more information than that!" Dick is stressed, but Tim is still feeling a little petty, so he answers nothing.

"I forgot my meds, actually. I usually shove them in a pocket after dressing, but I didn't get dressed... oops." Tim shrugs. "It got Danny to feel safer with being here, since I'm not insisting on light armor or anything like on base."

"Tim! I have questions!" Dick is flailing.

"Daddy!" Danny flies into the room (literally) and is shoving his pillow divider case into his hands. "You forgot!"

"Thank you, Danny. I was just realizing that and was planning to grab them after you got my crutches." Tim runs a hand through Danny's hair before dry swallowing his medication. Alfred slides into the room with the crutches.

"It warms my heart to see a youth so dedicated to keeping track of other's health." Danny turns and beams at Alfred.

"I like helping!"

"That's very admirable, Master Danny."

Danny frowns a little. "I'm too little to help a lot yet."

"Any help is more help than before." Tim cuts in, giving a lopsided grin. "Besides, your dad is atrocious at self care. You got to help your dear ol' dad. I'd simply die without you."

"You're not old." Danny mumbles, blushing at how thick Tim is laying it on. Tim noticed early on that Danny needs to feel needed or helpful, or he'll spiral and get depressed. He's not sure why Danny is like that. Tim's 90% sure it's not something Tim downloaded into his brain or said to Danny, meaning it could be something he picked up from Tim's own behavior, or possibly someone at the LoA manipulated into him, or is just something Danny naturally had. Tim has no idea on the why, but makes a point to let Danny help him, even when he really doesn't need the help. He wants his baby happy, and does try to talk to Danny about not having to help. But, ya know, pot, kettle, and all that. Tim knows his own need to be useful is just as bad.

He should find them therapists for it now that he's thinking about it. Last thing he wants is Danny to end up like him. Tim has done some insane and stupid shit to help and/or please people.

"My joints disagree." Tim jokes.

"I feel that." Dick chuckles. "Good morning, Danny!"

"Good morning..." Danny says shyly, floating into Tim's lap.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" Dick asks.

"Dam'n's pets?" Danny looks hopeful.

"Ah, he's looking forward to introducing you." Dick aims his 100 watt smile at Danny, who doesn't seem to know what to think of the man.

"Indeed I am." Damian choses that moment to enter the room. "Hello, Aedan."

"Hi!!" Danny carefully gets off of Tim's lap so he can zoom to his uncle. "What is their names??"

Tim grabs the crutches Alfred left nearby. He spends the rest of the day dodging Dick's questions, watching Danny be delighted by Damian and his pets, and passing on the information on Bruce. It's a very nice, peaceful day.

So, of course, it can't stay that way. It's Duke meeting Danny that unintentionally disrupts the peace.

"Hello, Danny. I'm Duke Thomas. I'm a meta like you." Duke greets Danny cheerfully, but Tim can't help but notice Duke doesn't take his sunglasses off.

"Hi!!" Danny floats about a foot off the floor. "What powers do you have??"

"I have photokinesis." Duke makes a tiny rainbow in his hands. Danny oos and aaas over Duke's explanations before he totting over to Damian to play with Alfred the cat. Duke stares after Danny for a minute before turning to Tim, who's getting more and more worried.

"Duke?"

"Do you know Danny glows?"

"He what?" Tim's ribs hurt from how hard he jolts.

"Okay, okay, was pretty sure I was the only one who could see it." Duke mumbles before finally pushing his sunglasses up and making eye contact with Tim. "He glows the same way Jason does during a pit rage episode. Danny's glow is more stable and constant and a brighter shade of green, but it's definitely the same thing."

Tim can feel himself shaking in barely concealed rage. "That motherfucker. I should have completely destroyed everything he loved."

"Who?" Duke asks warily.

"Ra's. He had to have done something to Danny. There's no reason Danny should be glowing like that." Tim takes a calming breath, not wanting Danny to see him angry.

"I'm sorry." Duke offers his sympathy.

"Not as sorry as Ra's is going to be."

"Are we planning a murder over here?" Jason jokes as he enters the room through the door next to Tim and Duke and sees Tim's face.

"Debating the pros and cons of it currently." Tim takes another deep breath.

"Oh, shit, for real?" Jason looks shocked.

"Danny glows similarly to you." Duke explains. "Meaning Ra's definitely did something to him behind Tim's back."

"Ooooh! Yeah, okay, that's very murder worthy." Tim smiles a little at that, feeling validated.

"Thanks, Jason."

"No problem, I'll help. I got beef with both Ra's and Talia, so I can take all the blame if Goldie or Demon Brat ask." Jason offers. "Before that, introduce me at the kid. Dick has been insufferable all day. Squealing and sending pictures and shit."

Tim chuckles. "Yeah, I do that. Hey, Danny! Can I borrow you for a second?"

Danny pats Alfred the cat one last time before trots over.

"Danny, this is your Uncle Jason."

"Hel-"

"Why do you smell green?" Danny cuts Jason's greeting off. He's staring hard at his uncle.

"Smell green?" Jason head tilts and squats down to be closer to eye level with the kid. There's still a foot of difference between the two, but it's the thought that counts. "What do you mean?

"You smell green." Danny frowns, thinking hard on how to get them to understand what he means. "Like Rawthy. And the weird lake thingies."

"Rawthy?" Jason and Duke both look confused.

"That's his name for Ra's. Danny gives the people he doesn't like awful nicknames to mess with them." Tim smirks at the looks his siblings give him. "He's fully aware of what he's doing, and I see no reason to stop him."

"Oh! He's petty!" Jason grins. "Just like his dad!"

Danny beams at Jason, clearly proud of himself.

Jason preceeds to give the simplest and kid safe version they've ever heard of his story. "To answer your question, I got really hurt by a bad man, and so your uncle Damian's mother dropped me in the green lake to heal me, but the green got stuck."

Danny seems to think about what he was told before holding his hands up to Jason. "Hug?"

"Sure, kid." Jason scoops Danny up into his arms and stands. Jason seems to stiffen as Danny melts. "Huh?"

"What up?" Tim asks, eyeing Duke in a way that demands the picture Duke just took be sent Tim. He wants that picture. Duke smiles and nods.

"Your kid just calmed the Pit." Jason gives Tim a stunted blink. "It's completely silent."

"Huh??"

"Dude, I don't know!" Jason hugs a snuggly Danny closer to him. "I'm pretty sure I could argue with Bruce about his stupid rules and keep a level head right now. I'm hugging your kid anytime I see him if this is the vibe I get each time."

"Only if he agrees to it." Tim flounders with this new info. "I'm still trying to teach him boundaries and consent."

"He's definitely tied to the pit in some way." Duke says, texting rapidly. "It's unfortunate that we won't be able to locate and murder Ra's before Bruce is rescued."

"I should have taken my chance." Tim grumbles.

Damian walks over, eyeing Jason and Danny. "Something happen?"

"Apparently, Jason smells like green, like Ra's and the "green lake", and can calm Jason's pit." Tim explains. Damian looks pissed at the first part, understanding it means Danny was exposed to the Pits, but he looks like he's not sure how to take the second part. Which, mood.

Danny starts wiggling. "Down, please."

"Oh! Sure, little man." Jason gently puts Danny down. Danny slides up to Damian.

"Can I still play with kitty Alfred?"

"Let's go see. He might be done hanging out and we must respect that." Damian takes Danny's hand and leads him back to Alfred the cat. The remaining siblings watch them for a minute.

"He's sweet." Duke turns a smile towards Tim.

"Like sugar." Tim has his own fond smile. "I don't regret making him at all. Best mental breakdown decision I've ever made."

"You terrify me sometimes, Timbers."

"Only sometimes?" Duke jokes, but Tim can see there's some truth to Duke's joke. There's a wariness in his eyes. But Tim just shrugs, not offended in the slightest. He knows he's a bit much, and Duke is the newest to his brand of crazy.

Tim does end up giving Jason and Duke more concrete answers to his year away, unlike when Dick was asking earlier. Mostly because Tim and Jason started to bond before they both left Gotham and can commiserate, and he tells Duke because he's there and it's funny to watch his reactions to what Tim and Jason are saying. It reminds Tim that he's watched his sweet 2 year old troll the hell out of ninjas and Ra's.

The rest of the night is tame. It becomes apparent that Danny prefers the "calmer" family members. He shies away from anyone being rambunctious, so mostly Steph and Dick. Everyone else is just abandoned for a new person if they start yelling or shouting. Tim thinks it's probably because he's not used to Steph or Dick's energy, having not met anyone like them before, and his ears are sensitive. Tim starts looking for noise canceling headphones for him at that realization. He didn't notice because the LoA bases were always quiet, outside of the training grounds, so it wasn't an issue before.

Danny still polices Tim's wound care, much to everyone's amusement. He memorized everything Alfred the human told him about Tim's injuries and takes it very seriously.

It's a fun night, all things considered.

890 notes · View notes

dark-l-angel · 2 days ago

Note

may I please request batfam x reader where they randomly find out the reader has Omnilingualism? the reader just randomly drops lore then the batfam is like "HUH?" me pleading:

A/N: Sure luv ❤️ sorry it took a little while.. but here you go 😺

Omnilingualism is the ability to understand all languages.. spoken, written, or otherwise.. instantly and fluently, without having to learn them first.

Batfam x Omnilingual reader + onshot bonus "wait- YOU CAN SPEAK EVERY LANGUAGE?!"

Bruce Wayne:

He pretends he isn’t impressed. He really tries. But the moment you casually correct a mistranslation in one of his case files from an obscure dialect in the Amazon, his eye twitches.

Definitely runs tests in the Batcave. "For data" he claims. Lies. He just wants an excuse to hear you switch flawlessly between Ancient Sumerian and Icelandic.

Low-key starts trusting you with delicate negotiations at Wayne Enterprises. "Accidentally" leaves confidential contracts in languages no one in the room understands except you.

Oh, and you catch him brushing up on his French. He'll never admit it, but he’s trying to catch up to you.

You once whispered something scandalous to him in flawless Latin during a gala. His hand on your lower back tightened just slightly. Dangerous man, but you’re worse.

Dick grayson:

Immediately obsessed. No chill whatsoever.

"Say something in Italian!" "Now Portuguese! Oh oh.. Tagalog!"

Thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. Genuinely struggles to focus if you speak in another language, especially something romantic-sounding. (You catch him blushing like a schoolboy, every time.)

Tries to flirt back in another language but completely butchers it. You gently correct him, and it turns into an unintentional couples language lesson.

You catch him Googling "How to propose in 20 languages." Cute idiot.

Teases you with fake words in gibberish, just to see if you catch on. You always do.

Jason Todd :

Oh, this man loves it. Filthy mouth, wicked grin, and a brain full of bad ideas.

Purposely swears in different languages to see if you catch him. You do. Every. Single. Time.

One time you threw back a sharp insult in flawless Russian, and he damn near swooned.

Has you read his favorite banned books in their original languages. "I just wanna hear you say it, babe." No you don’t, Jason. You want to hear them moaned, don’t you?

Will 100% ask you to dirty talk in languages no one else understands in public settings. "What? I like living dangerously."

Bonus: If you tease him in French, it destroys him. He can’t fight it. French + your voice = his personal kryptonite.

Tim Drake :

Immediately runs to his laptop. He needs answers.

"Omnilingualism is a hyper rare meta-ability.. there are fewer than seven confirmed cases worldwide.. wait- does this mean you can read codes in programming languages like they’re actual languages?!"

Makes you his official decryption buddy. His Batcomputer just became 500% more efficient.

Low-key fascinated, high-key turned on.

Asks you to record audio lessons for him in various languages. You catch him listening to them at 2am with a suspiciously dazed smile.

Will absolutely text you random phrases in dead languages at ungodly hours of the night. "For science."

Damian Wayne :

Instantly annoyed that he’s no longer the most linguistically gifted person in the room.

Challenges you constantly. "Recite this ancient Arabic proverb." You do, flawlessly, and throw in the correct accent for good measure.

He respects you deeply but refuses to admit it directly.

Secretly asks you to teach him rare dialects to communicate with his animals better.

The moment you start speaking to Titus in perfect, gentle Arabic, his eyes go wide. You’ve officially earned his permanent admiration.

Bonus: You tease him by complimenting him in languages he doesn’t know yet. He storms off to study them immediately.

Alfred Pennyworth

Unbothered king. He knew from the start.

Smiles softly when you casually slip into old, classical British idioms even Bruce doesn’t understand.

Occasionally tests you with the oddest phrases from obscure Commonwealth colonies. You pass every time.

"I dare say, Miss, you have a talent most remarkable."

Secretly keeps a list of the rarest languages to see if there’s anything you don’t know.

Family game nights? Forget it. You dominate every round of “Guess That Language.”

You become their favorite asset in undercover ops. Fake passports? Check. Local slang? You’re a walking encyclopedia.

They jokingly call you their “Batbabel.” (Yes, even Bruce lets that nickname slip once.)

Jason is convinced you must have alien blood. "Bet you could sweet talk the Martians, too."

You like to randomly mess with them by switching languages mid-conversation. Pure chaos.

And they all fall a little harder every time you do.

Oneshot bonus : Wait- YOU CAN SPEAK EVERY LANGUAGE?!

It started, as many things in Wayne Manor do, in the most stupidly casual way possible.

You were seated at the long dining table, lazily flipping through your phone while Alfred served brunch. Tim was half-asleep beside you, his forehead dangerously close to his waffles. Jason was reading War and Peace in Russian, because of course he was. Damian was arguing with Dick over the proper form for his new kata routine, while Bruce pretended to read the paper but was very obviously just eavesdropping like the rest of them.

Then, Alfred, with his calm British cadence, said something softly under his breath. In French.

"Mon dieu, cette confiture est un désastre…" (this jam is a disaster...)

Without thinking, without even looking up from your phone, you mumbled back, perfect pronunciation and all,

"Pas nécessairement. C’est la confiture d’orange, elle est censée être comme ça." (Not necessarily. It's orange marmalade, it's supposed to be like that.)

Silence.

Dead silence.

Tim lifted his head slowly, eyes bleary but confused.

Jason lowered his book.

Damian squinted at you like you’d just sprouted a second head.

Bruce folded his newspaper with a quiet, deliberate finality.

Dick? Dick’s eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Since when do you speak French?" he asked, grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

You blinked, confused by the attention. "Huh? Oh, I don’t."

Wrong answer.

"You just did" Tim said flatly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Jason leaned forward on his elbows, sharp smirk spreading. "Care to explain, mon ami?"

Your brain, still not connecting the dots, offered the most unhelpful thing possible: a shrug. "I don’t know. He just said the jam was a disaster. I just... knew."

“Wait.” Damian’s eyes narrowed into slits, laser-focused. "What did Alfred say, exactly?"

You repeated it, casually.

He tried to hide it, but his brows twitched upward. "That’s correct."

Now Jason was grinning like he knew something juicy. "Try Russian."

"What?"

"Say something in Russian," Jason pressed, eyes alight with curiosity.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Что ты хочешь, чтобы я сказал?" (What do you want me to say?)

Jason’s chair screeched back from the table as he stood, hands in his hair. “NO. No, no, no, what the hell is this?!”

"That was perfect," Tim said, his voice pitching higher, caffeinated brain now fully awake.

"You said you don’t speak these languages?" Bruce asked, a suspicious tilt to his head like he was running seventeen background checks in his mind at once.

You frowned, getting a little defensive now. "I don’t! I never studied Russian, or French, or whatever else. I just... get it, I guess?"

Dick gasped, like someone hit him with a Batarang of Realization. "Wait wait wait.. omnilingualism."

Jason’s mouth dropped open. "No freaking way."

Tim’s eyes went huge behind his glasses. "That’s an actual thing, you know. Hyper rare meta ability. The brain automatically understands and reproduces any language it’s exposed to."

Damian narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"Say something in Ancient Latin," Bruce instructed, his detective mode fully activated.

You tilted your head, focusing, and then fluently responded,

"Memento mori, pater. Etiam noctes detectivi requiem merentur" (Remember death, father. Even detectives of the night deserve rest.)

Pin-drop silence.

Jason cackled so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

Dick was clapping like you’d won an Olympic gold medal.

Tim, meanwhile, frantically pulled out his phone, already Googling ‘omnilingual reader discovered at brunch’.

Bruce, stoic as ever, gave you a single nod of respect. "We’ll need to run tests."

"You mean interviews," Dick corrected, leaning closer with a grin. "Because I, for one, have a thousand questions."

"Congratulations" Jason said dryly, raising his glass of orange juice in your direction. "You’re officially our walking, talking, sexy Google Translate."

You rolled your eyes with a crooked smile. "Glad I can be of service."

"And you will be," Bruce added, already making plans in his head. Oh, you were never getting out of this one.

621 notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 2 days ago

Text

mark grayson x afab!reader. dumbification, sub!mark, increased stamina and sensitivity, needy!mark, reader is a little mean and mark thinks it's HOT <3

Thinking about Mark Grayson's heightened sensitivity... and how stupid and easy he gets when he needs a release.

Thinking about how sometimes during a fight or a long training session, all that adrenaline and pumping blood results in Mark getting hard. He wears a cup for decency so it's moderately uncomfortable when it happens. Not to mention, Mark gets embarrassed. Very embarrassed.

Mostly because you seem to know when it happens. Mark doesn't know if it's the way he walks or if something in his voice gives it away. But if he doesn't want to get teased into coming, he'd best wait until his erection flags.

(Mark has never waited. He always comes home.)

It's not his fault! He stays hard for a long time if he tries to ignore it. He doesn't have the patience to wait. And Mark loves how your eyes get sharp and feral when they land on him, his cup removed, sweaty and chubbed up in his suit. You like to corner him against the wall and part your legs and rub against him. Like to feel his dick poke at your folds. He's there for you to play with. You make sure to remind him.

And the thing is, Mark gets stupid when he's hard. Big and easy and leaky.

"Still can't figure out how you focus on anything with such a fat cock," you tell him. Mark is lightheaded. He's obscenely big in his suit, and you're wet at the sight of him bucking his hips against you, humping you like a dog. You get a tight grip on his hair, tell him to settle down and be good.

"Don't get too excited. You'll cream your pants," you say lazily, and Mark whines. You get a little mean when he's like this. He loves it. You tell him to bring you both to the bed and he obeys instantly. You rest a hand on his stomach, just above where he's made a wet patch in his suit.

"Please, pl-please, G-God," Mark's saying, abs tense under your palm. You finally free his cock, pulling his suit pants down enough, and you take in the sight of it. It's red, agitated, steadily leaking. This is one of your favorite parts. Mark doesn't need much to come. He's got a big dick and big balls but none of that matters when he blows his load in less than a minute. You tease his cock at the base with two fingers, rubbing and tracing the veins that go up to his head. It takes nothing before Mark is tensing, legs trapping you as he comes. He makes high, weepy sounds as he does, his eyes squeezed shut. You pull his hair and that heightens Mark's orgasm, making him buck into the air.

And then, the next best part.

"Oh my God," you say with a laugh. "Dumb, fat cock can't even get soft after coming? All those muscles and strength and you're still fucking needy. You can't even think when you're like this, can you?"

A Viltrumite effect. Mark needs at least two orgasms to soften. He can't even reply now, he's so desperate. Once, you'd made him stay hard on purpose, not allowing his second release for ages. When you had let him come, Mark had cried, red-faced and dizzy with arousal.

You don't do that now, pitying his desperation. You press Mark down into the mattress instead and he lets you, never resistant with you. You rake your hand through his hair. Mark cranes his neck, wanting a kiss. You indulge him and he moans into your mouth, rutting against your stomach.

"Ah-ah," you say, slipping your hand between your bodies and trapping Mark's cock against his stomach. He whines, forgetting himself and bucking his hips, his strength coming easily. You squeeze him in warning.

"Be good," you say. "Be good or I'll leave you like this, stupid and leaking."

Mark shakes his head, eyes wet. "No, no, please, need it, need you. Please, please, 'm s-so hard."

"Oh, I know." You take your other hand and squeeze Mark's pecs, first the right then the left. He moans, arching beneath you. You flick his nipples until they're hard under his suit. "Is this all you're good for? Fighting and emptying your balls? Your stupid dick can't even tell the difference between the adrenaline of a fight and me touching you."

Mark whines, squirming beneath you. "That's not t-true, I'm—I—"

"You what?" you ask, mocking. You take his cock in a tight grip, tighter than you'd hold a regular person. But Mark can take it. Mark wants to take it. "What are you gonna say, baby? You gonna tell me you're smart? That you're more than your fat tits and cock?"

Mark doesn't manage an answer. You grind on him hard, your pussy still clothed. His eyes are fluttering so you hold his chin and shake him a little.

"Eyes on me, big guy," you say. "You want me to fuck you? Wanna cum inside me?"

Mark nods eagerly, hair wild, cheeks blotchy. "Yeah, yeah, please—"

"Take off my underwear," you say.

Mark immediately grabs the band of your underwear and pulls. The fabric rips like wet paper. You look down, mouth open.

"Oh, baby," you say. Mark's already fumbling over an apology, promising to buy you new ones. You roll your eyes and pull his hair. "Why did I think that would go any differently? You'd tear through anything to get your dick wet."

"'M sorry, I thought—"

"Well, that was your first mistake, wasn't it, sweetie? Don't think, you're not good at it right now."

You take Mark's wrists and put them above his head. It takes both of your hands to do so. You know the only reason you can hold him like this is because he's letting you.

"Gonna be a good boy and fuck me?" you ask, arching your back so you can drag your pussy over Mark's cock. "Gonna make me cum? Or are you just gonna rut into me like a dumb dog?"

Mark shakes his head. "No, gonna be good. I can make you cum. Make you feel good. Lemme do it—lemme feel you, I can do it, please—"

And finally, finally, you let him inside. Mark loses all coherence, only panting and whining as he meets you thrust for thrust. You barely need to move, he's so eager. He's gorgeous like this, suit disheveled and pulled up only as far as it needs to be for you to play with his cock. His hair is messy and he's shiny with sweat. You can't imagine how overwhelming his arousal is, coursing through him and turning his brain to soup even when he's not with you. It's no wonder he'll let you do whatever you want to him.

"Are you being good, honey pie?" you ask. "Are you gonna hold it till I tell you?"

"Can't," Mark says, like he always does, but you know better.

"You can," you say. "You can or I'm pulling off of you. Can you rub my clit or are you too dumb to do that?"

"I can, I can," he says. You free one of his hands and he clumsily finds your clit. Mark rubs you as you fuck him, his cock making a mess in your pussy.

You feel your orgasm swell. "Wait till I cum," you order. "You couldn't even hold your first one, so wait."

Mark's eyes are wet. "Are you close? Can I cum now? Please, can't hold it—"

"Yes, you can," you say, digging your nails into his scalp. Mark whines loudly, his thrusts sloppy and fast. "Fucking hold it, Mark."

And he does. He manages to hold off until you cum, your orgasm washing over you. Then you say the magic words. "Go ahead."

And Mark forgets himself and breaks out of your grip, grabbing your back and waist instead. He buries his face in your shoulder, grunting and whimpering as he fucks you, one leg over your hip for leverage. You can't do anything but hold on as Mark chases his release. He cums for a long time, shaking against you. When he's done, he rolls you over so you're lying on your side.

"That was s-so good," he says, voice cracking from pleasure. "You're so mean to me, I love it. Was I good? Was I your good boy?"

"Pretty boy," you say, kissing his temple. "You were the best. So good for me, sweetheart."

He sighs happily, seemingly satisfied, but you know better. It's never a complete night without Mark's head between your legs.

#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson smut #invincible smut #sub mark grayson #dom reader #mark grayson x you #invincible x y/n

443 notes · View notes

randombush3 · 1 day ago

Text

solo necesitaba estar aquí

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: some much-needed family time is had

Words: 2134

Notes: I got bored and this came to mind

You’re busy. As in, drowning in calls, constantly approached by your juniors, never-seeing-the-light-of-day busy. You don’t even remember the last time you sat down and had dinner with your wife and child. You pay a woman to replace both his mothers.

The sun has already set, the view of orange slowly dimming into darkness especially visible from your newly-obtained corner office. There must be about two more hours left on your schedule today, explaining the fresh coffee on your desk. And you’re tired, but you love this job. It’s worth it.

Your assistant — new, bumbling as he tries to grow accustomed to your discipline and efficiency — appears, phone in-hand.

“Is that New York?” is your immediate question, noting the terror on his face with slight amusement. It always takes a while for the young ones to break.

He shakes his head. The words he mouths are far scarier: it’s your wife.

You stand up.

“Give it to me.” The phone is searing hot, and you know that this is not a call of affection. “Alexia, baby, hi!”

“La profe ha dicho que somos madres terribles.”

You check the date on the screen of your laptop. “Oh, there was that meeting, wasn’t there?”

“You said you’d come.”

“I thought we’d both agreed to send Luisa?” In truth, you had. Alexia is in the most crucial part of the season, playing matches that decide her glory (and her mood during summer). “Did you go?”

“No. But at least I was home to ask him how it went.”

You rub your temples. Your assistant has taken his cue to leave, hovering on the other side of the glass door as if it will save him from the bomb that’s about to go off. “Okay. Well, what did he say? Are you with him right now?”

“Luisa’s is getting him ready for bed,” Alexia replies with a deep sigh. You gather there is no good news to give. “He told her that he never sees us. No malice intended — a simple: mis mamás son tan importantes. And the teacher took it as, mis mamás son demasiado importantes.”

“He didn’t lie.”

“And you don’t feel guilty?”

You think back to the last time you spent uninterrupted time with your son. It must have been Alexia’s last match — no, you had to leave because of a crisis in Tokyo. Maybe before that?

“We’ve spent the last seven years being parents he can be proud of. But he… doesn’t even see us.”

“You’re home right now!”

“Just in time to kiss him goodnight!”

Your breath hitches.

That’s supposed to be enough. That’s supposed to be the line that closes the argument, the past where she tells you it’s okay, that you’re trying. That your intentions are good and true and she isn’t a saint either.

But she doesn’t say anything.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits you, and you find your desk chair, constantly warmed and broken in, and sink back into it, the city glowing behind you like a silent reprimand. You lean forwards, elbow on the desk, fingers still pressed against your temple.

She’s on speaker now. It almost feels like she’s in the room with you.

“I thought we were doing the right thing,” you say finally, quieter now. “Working this hard. Building something for him.”

There’s a pause. A cavity opens up between the two of you. Alexia no longer agrees. “He just wants parents.”

It stings more than it should. Because deep down, you knew it. You’ve known it for a while — in the drawings where Luisa is front and centre, where you and Alexia are smiling stock figures tucked away in the corner. You knew it when he started calling her mamá Luisa, without hesitation or confusion.

“He told her,” Alexia continues, voice breaking just slightly, “that sometimes he pretends we’re home. That he hears the door open and he thinks it’s one of us — and he gets all… excited, just for it to be a delivery or a friend, or the neighbours checking in on him.”

You let out a long breath, eyes falling shut. “He’s seven. He shouldn’t know disappointment like that.”

Silence. But she’s still on the line. You can hear her breathing — steady, controlled. Like she’s bracing herself to say something worse.

“I have a few matches left this season,” she says. “Then I’m home until the Euros.”

“And I have Tokyo, then Berlin. After that, a quarterly review. Shareholder summit in—”

“No,” she interrupts. “You have a son. Who misses you. That comes first.”

You want to argue. You want to say it’s not that easy, that you don’t just get to drop everything. But maybe it is that easy. Maybe the hard part is admitting you’ve made the wrong choice more times than you can count.

“I’ll clear the week after Tokyo,” you say finally. “We’ll take him to that dinosaur park he keeps asking about. No phones. Just us.”

“Both of us,” Alexia says firmly. “No pulling out last minute.”

“I promise.”

Another silence — but a warmer one, less weighted. For a moment, it’s just the two of you breathing, the world quietly changing as you make your decision.

“I miss you,” she says softly.

And suddenly, more than the job, more than the office, more than the city stretched out in front of you — you just want to go home.

…

He squeals with delight as you march through arrivals, Alexia unable to control his surge into the crowd to attach himself to you. Hands meet your leg and you scoop him up, surprised by how much heavier he is, pulling him into you as you make your way to your wife.

That conversation a few months ago has been a much-needed catalyst for change.

Tokyo was good, perfect for networking, but it wasn’t home.

It's not this.

“I missed you, campeón,” you whisper in his ear as you reach Alexia, smiling at the slight sheen in her eyes. “I’m so glad I could come home early.”

Alexia doesn’t need to respond for her answer to be known.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of tiny feet sprinting down the hallway and slamming into the door of your bedroom.

“¡Hoy es el día de los dinosaurios!” he yells, muffled through the wood like some kind of pint-sized town crier. “Y tú lo prometiste, MAMÁ. ¡LO PROMETISTE!”

Alexia groans from beside you, face buried deep in the pillow, muscles aching from the dregs of the season and the thought of the build-up to the Euros. “What have we done?”

“We’ve entered legally binding verbal contract,” you mutter, already reaching for your phone to cancel the one remaining telecon you hadn’t yet axed. You text your assistant a quick: Push everything back, I’m being held hostage by a T-Rex.

The reply comes instantly: Understood. Good luck, boss.

…

At the dinosaur park, all bets are off.

He spots a rickety, questionably-safe ‘Dino Dig Zone’ and points with an index rivalling Augustus’ ad locutio in the Prima Porta. “There. I’m going to dig for bones. I need gloves. And goggles. And snacks.”

Unsurprisingly, there’s a board listing the prices of those exact items. Alexia gives you one glance before nudging you towards the till.

You buy him the whole kit — gloves three sizes too big, a neon-green hard hat, safety goggles with actual working headlamps. He looks like a very tiny paleontologist sponsored by a very eccentric energy drink company. You and Alexia exchange a look, but say nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s not digging. He’s sitting on top of the dig site, dramatically narrating the excavation like David Attenborough. You have no idea where he learnt the technical terms, but maybe your background checks on Luisa didn’t include her supposed paleontology degree.

“Here,” he says, pointing at what is very obviously a plastic ribcage, “we find the remains of the mamasaurio, a terrifying beast who never misses football training and always scores the best goals.”

Alexia snorts. “Okay, I like this version of me.”

You’re not so lucky.

“And next to it — the dinochefejecutiva. She’s very rare to see. She lives mostly in airports.”

You choke on your iced coffee.

The gift shop is a disaster. You tell him he can pick one souvenir. He picks seven (one for every year you’ve missed, apparently — he’s a master manipulator). Alexia leans down to bargain with him while you tap out and retreat to the picnic benches outside. She emerges twenty minutes later, dazed, holding two dinosaur hoodies, a talking plush stegosaurus, a fossil-shaped backpack, glow-in-the-dark dino socks, and a hat with T-REX CEO embroidered in sparkly thread.

“He hustled me,” she whispers to you.

You smirk. “It’s not hard.”

He wears everything at once for the rest of the day, waddling around like an overburdened prehistoric fashion icon, munching on overpriced churros and announcing to anyone who will listen that today is his yes day. You and Alexia trail behind him, laughing, holding hands, slowly starting to believe you might actually remember how to do this — this parenting thing, this family thing, this loving-each-other-and-showing-up thing.

When he falls asleep in the car, surrounded by stuffed animals and crumbs and the remains of a dino tail-shaped lollipop, Alexia turns to you.

“You know,” she says, voice soft with something like peace, “I think this was the best investment we’ve ever made.”

You glance at the back seat — at your snoring, sugar-comatose son — and then at your wife, radiant even after she was forced to hold a melting ice-lolly that stained her white t-shirt.

You smile. “Returns have been excellent so far.”

Dinner that night is chaotic, but surprisingly demanded even after a day of junk food that nearly sent your two-time Ballon d’Or into a mental breakdown.

He’s still riding the sugar high from the park, sprawled across the kitchen floor in his dino hoodie, tiny plastic stegosaurus tucked into the crook of his arm like he gave birth to it. You’re rummaging through cabinets blindly — unsure when Luisa last reorganised them and finding her system incredibly confusing.

Alexia’s leaning against the counter, eyeing the situation with a suspicious mix of amusement and concern. “Are you sure about this?” she asks as you pull out spaghetti, three different cheeses, and something you think is tomato sauce but might be expired salsa.

“Yep,” you lie.

Halfway through the prep, he finally looks up from his playtime and asks, “Where’s Luisa?”

Alexia freezes mid-chop. You glance over your shoulder and smile, holding up your sauce-stained wooden spoon like it’s proof of competence. “You do know that we can cook, right?”

He blinks. Then, slowly: “Que va.”

“Excuse you,” Alexia says, squinting at him like he’s just insulted her entire bloodline. “Mamá once made lasagna so good it made grown men cry.”

“Did they cry because of the cheese?” he asks seriously.

“Emotionally? Yes,” you cut in. “Digestively? Also yes.”

Dinner ends up being… edible. Barely. The spaghetti is overcooked, the sauce has a suspicious kick that might be from Alexia mistaking god-knows-what for paprika, and the garlic bread ends up more like garlic crackers. But he eats it anyway — every bite — grinning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“You’re both kinda good at this,” he says between chews.

“Kinda good?” you echo, with faux offence.

“Like… Luisa would do it faster.” He shrugs at Alexia’s raised eyebrows. “But this is nice.”

You and Alexia exchange a glance over his head, soft and knowing. She reaches under the table to squeeze your knee.

“Did you have fun today?” you ask, hoping your tentativeness is well-hidden.

He nods with enthusiasm.

“Let’s do it again tomorrow!”

He’s raised in his seat and almost rearing to go.

“How about bedtime first before we plan more yes-days?” Alexia negotiates, this time successfully.

Later, after bedtime stories and lights out and one too many requests for water, you crawl into bed next to her. The silence is warm and easy, the soft glow of her bedside lamp all you need to help you relax. Her back presses into your chest, and you bury your face into her shoulder, finally relaxed in a way you haven’t been in months.

And then, her voice, low and a little smug: “Now that you’re home…”

You smile against her skin. “Yeah?”

She turns just slightly, her hand brushing across your hip, teasing. “I’ve got a few… yes-days of my own in mind.”

You let out a laugh, quiet and breathless. “You drive a hard bargain, capitana.”

She smirks, settling deeper into your arms. “Better keep up, dinochefejecutiva. Or I’m benching you.”

“Not the bench,” you whisper dramatically, already pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Anything but the bench.”

She hums, wicked and sweet. “Then show me you’ve still got game.”

#randombush3 #woso #woso x reader #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

446 notes · View notes

mintyys-blog · 3 days ago

Note

can u write a submissive!invincible x fem!sidekick reader smut fic please?? :3

(btw ur literally SO talented and i love all ur works so so much🩷🩷)

PRETTY PLEASE? | mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: smut, sub mark, soft dom! reader, zero plot, oral sex (male receiving)

The two of you barely made it through the door before Mark was on you.

The mission had been simple—stop a group of low-level villains robbing a tech facility. Easy. Routine. But watching you fight always did something to him. The way you moved, confident and in control, had Mark biting his lip behind his visor the entire time.

Now, back at your apartment, he’s sitting on the edge of your bed still in half his suit, breathing a little too fast, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. His gloves are off. His boots, too. You’re standing between his knees, one hand cupping his jaw, the other tracing lazy lines along the edge of his chest where the fabric clings to his skin.

“You’ve been fidgeting ever since we left the fight,” you murmur, eyes soft but knowing. “Something got you worked up, baby?”

Mark nods, too quick. His voice is already needy. “Yeah… just—fuck, the way you looked out there—can we—can I please—?”

Your thumb grazes his bottom lip.

“You want something, you ask nicely,” you say, tilting your head. “Use your words.”

Mark lets out a breathy whimper, already melting under your touch. “Please. I need you to touch me. I’ve been hard since we got back. I can’t stop thinking about you—please, Y/N.”

You smile, brushing your lips over his, but not giving him what he wants just yet.

“That’s better,” you whisper, pressing your knee between his thighs. “But you’ll be good for me, right? No rushing. No finishing until I say so.”

Mark’s eyes flutter, his body tense with need. “Yes. I’ll be good. I promise.”

You hum, satisfied. “Good boy.”

Your hand trails lower, teasing the hem of his suit where it hugs his hips. Mark’s already squirming under you, lips parted in anticipation, a little gasp escaping when you tug at the fabric just enough to make him twitch.

“Look at you,” you murmur, voice low, fingers grazing his bare skin as you slowly peel the suit down, revealing more of him inch by inch. “You were so brave today, baby. So strong. But now you get to relax. You don’t have to be a hero here.”

He exhales hard, eyes fluttering shut like your words alone take the weight off his shoulders.

You sink to your knees between his legs, hands resting on his thighs. He’s already hard, his cock twitching as it springs free, flushed and leaking, like he’s been waiting for this all day.

And maybe he has.

“Y/N…” he whispers, hips already trying to shift forward. “Please…”

You press your palm flat to his lower stomach, holding him in place.

“Shhh. I told you—you don’t get to come until I say so.”

Mark’s breath hitches, and he nods obediently. “Okay. Okay, I’ll wait. I promise.”

You reward him with a soft kiss to his inner thigh, then lick a slow, teasing stripe up the length of his cock. He shudders, a soft whine slipping out as you wrap your lips around the tip, suckling gently, not nearly enough to give him release.

“You’re so sensitive already,” you murmur when you pull back, voice dripping with sweetness. “Are you really this desperate for me?”

“Yes,” he gasps. “I—fuck, I need you. Please—do whatever you want, just… don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

You chuckle softly, your hand stroking him slow, just enough to keep him teetering.

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” you say, licking your lips as you lean back in. “But I’m not letting you come either—not yet. Not until you’re begging for it.”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head in slow, torturous rhythm. Your hand pumps the base while your tongue teases the sensitive underside, and Mark is panting, hips twitching, fingers digging into the sheets to keep from bucking.

Every time he gets close—every time you feel that twitch, hear that gasp—you pull back.

And every time, he looks down at you with wide, pleading eyes, so overwhelmed and desperate, voice cracking as he begs:

“Please, Y/N—I’m so close—I need to—please let me come—please, I’ll do anything—”

You crawl up his body, straddling his lap, grinding against his cock without letting him slip inside.

“Anything?” you whisper against his ear, biting gently at the lobe.

He nods frantically. “Anything. Just—fuck—please, I’ve been good. I’ve been so good for you—”

You smile, finally guiding him to your entrance, letting just the tip slide in, then stopping again.

Mark nearly sobs.

“You want it that bad, baby?” you tease, voice soft but firm. “Then say it.”

“I want you to use me,” he chokes out, eyes glassy with need. “Please. I want to make you feel good. I want to come for you. Please, Y/N—please let me come.”

You sink down fully with a soft sigh, his name spilling from your lips as you feel him stretch you open.

He cries out, overwhelmed by the sudden heat, the closeness, the intimacy.

And then you lean down, lips brushing his as you whisper:

“Then come for me, baby.”

And he does—loud, breathless, hands clinging to your waist as his entire body trembles, voice breaking as he moans your name like a prayer.

You don’t stop moving, don’t stop praising him, even as his body jerks from overstimulation, your hips rolling slow and deep.

“You did so good for me,” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “Such a good boy.”

His breath is shaky, skin flushed, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow waves beneath you. You stay like that for a moment—connected, pressed so close his heart is beating against yours, skin damp with sweat.

Mark’s arms are tight around your waist, clinging like if he lets go, he’ll fall apart again.

“You okay?” you murmur, fingers carding through his hair, gentle, grounding.

He nods, face buried in your neck, voice muffled. “Yeah. Just… holy shit.”

You smile, kissing the side of his head.

“Did so good for me,” you whisper, still rocking your hips just slightly, keeping him inside, letting him ride the aftershocks. “You’re always so sweet when you beg. You know that?”

Mark lets out a weak, breathy laugh, face flushing deeper.

“You make it hard not to,” he mumbles. “You’re just… god, you’re so—”

He groans softly when you squeeze your walls around him one last time before slowly easing off, and he whines at the loss of contact.

You hush him, gently coaxing him to lay back, grabbing a warm towel from the nightstand drawer to clean him up. He’s boneless, pliant, letting you handle him completely—eyes heavy, mouth slack, body twitching every now and then from the lingering overstimulation.

Once he’s cleaned and tucked under the blankets, you slip into bed beside him. He immediately pulls you close, tangling your legs with his, burying his face against your chest.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me one of these days,” he murmurs into your skin. “Death by sex. Marked on my tombstone.”

You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair again. “Not the worst way to go.”

He hums, barely awake, but still needy in the way he clutches you.

“You made me feel so good,” he mumbles, voice soft and sincere. “You always do.”

You press a kiss to his temple, your voice just as gentle. “That’s the idea, baby. You’re mine—I take care of what’s mine.”

A sleepy little smile curves his lips.

“I like being yours.”

You pull the blanket up around both of you, letting the warmth and quiet settle in.

“Good,” you whisper. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

It’s been maybe an hour since you wrecked him.

Mark dozed off for a little while—head on your chest, arms around your waist, snoring softly. You didn’t move. Just stroked his back, kissed his forehead, let him be your good boy in peace.

But now?

He’s awake again.

Barely.

Still sleepy, eyes half-lidded, body loose and pliant—but you can feel it. The way his cock twitches against your thigh when you shift. The way he’s breathing just a little harder now. The way he instinctively rolls his hips when you slide your hand down over his stomach.

“You’re hard again,” you murmur, voice low and warm in his ear. “Already?”

Mark whimpers, flushing, too embarrassed to look at you but too needy to hide it.

“Can’t help it,” he mumbles. “You’re so close. You feel so good. I—I want it again.”

You shift over him, straddling his waist slowly, rolling your hips against him—bare, teasing, not quite letting him slip inside.

He gasps, thighs twitching under you.

“You’re still sensitive, aren’t you?” you whisper, dragging your nails lightly across his chest. “I can feel you shaking.”

Mark nods helplessly. “I am. But I still want it. Want you.”

“Then be a good boy,” you say softly, “and take it.”

You line him up and sink down again—slow, torturously slow, until he’s fully inside and you’re seated in his lap. He whimpers, hands flying to your hips as his head tilts back against the pillow.

“Oh fuck—” he gasps, already overwhelmed. “It’s so much—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, then nipping his ear. “You’re doing so good for me. Just breathe.”

You start moving—slow, deep rolls of your hips that make him tremble beneath you, whining, begging under his breath. He’s clinging to you now, nails digging into your thighs, tears prickling the corners of his eyes from how intense it feels.

Every time your hips grind down just right, he cries out, headboard rattling from how hard he’s gripping the sheets.

“Please—please slow down—I’m gonna—”

“No, baby,” you purr, picking up the pace. “You’re gonna come when I say. Not a second before.”

He sobs—literally sobs—from the overstimulation, but doesn’t disobey. Doesn’t even try. Just takes everything you give him, whispering broken pleas against your chest.

And when you finally lean in, kiss his lips soft and sweet, and whisper “Now”— Mark shatters.

He comes with a wrecked, desperate cry, body arching off the bed, arms around you like he needs to anchor himself to survive it. You don’t stop moving until he’s twitching and whimpering, until he’s too spent to speak, too sensitive to move. You kiss his sweat-damp forehead, brushing his hair back from his face, voice soft as ever.

“You’re so perfect like this,” you whisper. “My sweet, obedient boy.” Mark nods weakly, utterly ruined. And totally satisfied.

The next morning:

The sun filters through your bedroom curtains in soft streaks of gold, the sheets are tangled from the night before, and Mark’s arms are around you—warm, lazy, and clingy. You stretch with a soft sigh, muscles sore in all the right ways.

And then you feel it.

A slow, purposeful grind of his hips against your ass. His cock, already half-hard, rubbing against your skin.

You smirk. “Someone’s up early.”

“I’m trying to be,” he mumbles against your shoulder, voice still raspy with sleep. “Thought maybe I’d return the favor…”

You raise an eyebrow as he nuzzles into your neck, his hands slipping over your stomach, then lower—slow, deliberate.

“Oh?” you tease. “You think you’re gonna take charge now?”

“I could,” he says, with that cocky little grin he tries to wear when he’s feeling bold. “You’ve been in control since last night. Figured I could flip the script.”

You let him roll you onto your back, let him straddle your hips. His hands skim down your sides, his lips press softly to your throat. He starts to move lower, clearly trying to work up to taking the lead.

And it’s adorable.

But the moment his mouth is between your thighs—just as he’s about to make a move—you tangle your fingers in his hair, tug just hard enough to make his eyes flick up to yours.

“Be honest, baby,” you murmur, tilting your head. “You want to be in charge… or do you just want me to tell you how good you’re doing again?” He freezes. Blushes. Hard.

“I—”

Your hand tightens slightly in his hair. His breath catches.

“Because I think you like it better when you’re under me,” you say, voice smooth and sweet. “When you don’t have to think. Just follow instructions. Just feel.”

Mark shudders. And that little dominance fantasy? It evaporates. He crawls back up the bed, lips already parted, pupils blown wide, and lays on his back without being told.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah. I… I want you to do it again.”

You smile, climbing over him slowly, kissing down his chest as he trembles. “That’s what I thought.”

You take your time—reminding him exactly why he’s addicted to being yours, and why he’ll never really be able to flip the script. Not when he lives for your praise. Not when he aches to be used. And not when every breathless moan he lets out sounds like your name in prayer.

Mark’s already panting by the time you settle between his thighs.

He’s spread out on the bed, naked, flushed, still trying to recover from last night but too far gone to stop you. His cock is hard again—already twitching with every teasing brush of your fingers, leaking in anticipation.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your hands gently gliding over his hips. “Already so hard for me again. You really can’t get enough, can you?”

His head shakes, breath catching. “I—I really can’t. You make me feel so…”

You kiss just above the base of his cock, slowly, deliberately. “So what?”

Mark shivers. “So good. Like I belong to you.”

You hum in satisfaction. “That’s because you do.”

You wrap a hand around his shaft and give him one slow stroke. He moans—soft, needy—and his hips twitch.

You kiss the tip, then drag your tongue down the underside in a lazy stripe, listening to the broken little whimper he gives you in return.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” you tease. “That fast?”

He covers his face with one hand, embarrassed. “I—I can’t help it. You’re driving me crazy.”

You smile, sliding your mouth around him, slowly taking him in until the head hits the back of your throat. His hand flies to your hair, fingers gripping tight—not to guide you, just to hold on.

You bob your head slowly, keeping the rhythm maddeningly gentle. Your tongue swirls around the tip every time you pull back, and your free hand strokes the rest of him in sync. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

Mark’s thighs tremble under your hands. His moans are soft, choked, helpless.

“Y/N… fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna come if you keep—”

You pull off with a pop, licking your lips as you look up at him. “Not yet.”

He whines. Actually whines, hips lifting off the bed before you push him back down. “Stay still,” you command gently, your voice all honey and heat. “Be good for me.”

“I am,” he pants, eyes glossy. “I’m trying. Please—please don’t stop—”

You go back down on him, this time a little deeper, a little faster. Your hand strokes the base while your mouth works the rest, and you hum around him just to watch him tremble.

The praise spills out of you as naturally as your breath: “You’re doing so good, baby.” And “You taste so sweet like this.”

“Such a perfect cock—so sensitive for me.” And Mark? He’s losing it.

Fingers twisting in the sheets, chest heaving, his voice ragged as he begs: “Please, Y/N—please, I need it, I need to come—can I? Please—please—”

You pull off just long enough to whisper, soft and sweet:

“Come for me, baby.”

And he does—with a desperate, broken cry, hips jerking despite himself, his whole body tensing like you just pulled the soul out of him with your mouth. You stroke him gently through it, mouth back on him to catch every last drop, until he’s gasping and twitching from overstimulation.

When he finally slumps back against the mattress, boneless and dazed, you crawl up and kiss his jaw, licking one last bit of him off your lips.

“Still think you’re in charge?” you whisper teasingly.

Mark can’t even speak. He just nods, eyes wide, clinging to you like he’s drowning in the afterglow. You chuckle and pull the blanket over you both again. “Didn’t think so.”

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #smut #dom reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible x you #invincible x fem!reader #invincible x reader #invincible #mark grayson x fem!reader #invincible smut

422 notes · View notes

hyunjincanraptoo · 2 days ago

Text

Love you better- H.JS

So, LATAM Jisung did something to my heart and I had to write something for him 🫠 I was supposed to also post uno and chill part 2 today but I accidentally fell asleep during the afternoon and since it's already late, I won't be able to finish it. Good thing I have a long holiday and only come back to uni on Thursday so wait for a lot of updates during the following days (including an Easter special fic 🤭). Nari, if you see this, please don't freak out 😚

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, bros code breaking

Alexa, play Friends With Your Ex by Landon Barker

It all started the night you left Chan.

Not in a dramatic, Hollywoodian explosion. No screaming, no shattered plates, just silence. A final, tired “okay”, and the soft click of a door that didn’t reopen.

You didn’t know where to go, so you walked. It didn’t take long for your phone to buzz.

Hannie: you okay?

That was all it took.

He met you at that 24 hour diner which served bad coffee and greasy bacon slices. Han slid the booth across from you like it wasn’t the middle of the night, like you hadn’t just broken up with his best friend.

He didn’t pry, didn’t ask you why it ended, or if you were okay. He just sat there, gave you his hoodie when you started shivering and let you cry into a plate of pancakes.

And since then, he kept showing up.

You’d text each other more. Stupid jokes bloomed into real conversations. He helped you move boxes out of Chan’s place without asking questions. He made you laugh when no one else could. He gave you rides home late at night because ‘it’s not safe for you to walk'. But he never pushed or crossed a line— he just was there for you, in case you needed it.

Until the night everything changed.

You were sitting in his car parked in some random parking lot. Raindrops tapped against the windows, music playing low. You were wearing his hoodie again and this time, your knees were pulled up in the seat, chin resting on top of them.

“I don’t get it”, you murmured, staring at the blur of city lights outside, “How he just… stopped loving me”

Chan had always been a good man. A kind man. But he was never there. Always at the studio, always putting your relationship last. You didn’t break up with him because you stopped loving him— you did it because he forgot how to love you back.

Han exhaled softly, glancing at you from the driver’s seat, “I don’t think he stopped loving you”, he said quietly, “I think… he just didn’t know how to love you the way you needed”.

That made your chest tighten. You turned toward him, realizing there’s something heavy in his gaze— something he’d been trying not to say for weeks.

“Han…”

He leaned in just a little. Not enough to kiss you, just enough for you to feel the heat.

“I shouldn’t want this”, he said quietly, eyes flicking to your mouth.

“Yeah… you shouldn’t”

“But I do”

You don’t remember who leaned in first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. But suddenly, your mouths met like you’ve been starving, like every night he held back, rushed to the surface all at once. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb gently brushing your cheek and suddenly you were kissing him hard.

Messy. Desperate. The car windows started to fog with your breath, your bodies twisting in the cramped front seat. Your legs slid over his lap and his hands grabbed your waist as he tried to stop himself— but he couldn't.

“He never touched you like this, did he?”, he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“That’s so wrong”, you whispered, but you were already pulling his hoodie off.

“Then why does it feel this good? Why aren’t you stopping me, huh?”, he groaned, voice rough as his lips found your collarbone.

Because the truth was— you were not just kissing Han. You were kissing every stolen glance. Every accidental touch. Every night you wished someone saw you the way he always did.

It was messy, forbidden— everything you were not supposed to want.

But in that moment with Han’s hands under your shirt and his voice whispering your name like you owned him— you finally felt wanted again.

“You’re still not stopping me”, Han breathed, voice hoarse against your skin.

He was right, you weren’t. You should. But your fingers were already tangled in the hem of his shirt, already tugging it up, palms sliding over the warm lines of his stomach as you straddled him in the driver’s seat.

Your breath hitched when your hands traced over his inked skin— his tattoos, surprisingly familiar, mapped out across his muscles.

“God”, you whispered, brushing your fingertips over just under his ribs, “These always drove me crazy”.

Han let out a low groan, eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, “You’ve barely seen them” he said, voice rough.

“I saw enough”, you whispered, lips ghosting over his neck, “I just didn’t let myself want to. It had been three long weeks, you know”

His hands found your hips like instinct when you grinded down on his lap, head falling back against the headrest. “Fuck”, he groaned.

You kissed him again, your teeth clashing slightly. He moaned into your mouth like he didn’t care that this was sinful. Bros code? He barely remembered it existed.

His hands were everywhere— trailing up your thighs, gripping your hips, sliding under your shirt until he gripped your bare waist like he needed to hold on or he’d have lost himself completely.

“We can’t do this, Yn… Tell me to stop”, he said suddenly, breath shaking.

But your reply was a soft, “Don’t stop”, whispered into the curve of his neck. You didn’t want him to stop, not when he touched you like that.

You rolled your hips over his lap slowly and he let out the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard from him.

Han’s hands gripped you tighter, his jaw clenched. “Jesus”, he muttered, kissing down your jaw, “You’ve been in my head for weeks. Every time you looked at me like you needed me… I couldn’t think straight”

You whimpered as he slid his hand under your bra, gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples. He pulled your shirt up, just enough to kiss the curve of your chest, hot and desperate, leaving a purple stain there. Even though it was sloppy and frantic, it made you cry out his name.

“Hannie…”

That definitely did something to him. His eyes flicked up, then he pulled you back in for another kiss— this time deeper, filthier, full of tongue and need and everything he’d been holding back.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you, straining in his jeans, as you rocked down again, dragging a soft whine from his throat.

“You keep doing that and I’m not gonna last”, he growled.

“I don’t want you to last”, you whispered, “I just want you to”

He let out a harsh exhale, more like a curse, then leaned forward. “Backseat”, he muttered, eyes dark with lust, “Now”.

You crawled over, and he followed right behind, pulling the door shut with one hand and dragging your hips into his lap again. This time, it was faster, hungrier. He slid your panties down your thighs without fully undressing you, and the thrill of it made your pulse race.

His fingers slid between your legs, and he cursed under his breath. “Damn, you’re soaked”

You arched into his touch, head falling back. “This is so bad”, you pant, “So, so… ah… wrong”

“Then why…”, he murmured, kissing the corner of your lips as he sank two fingers inside you without any warnings, “Does it feel so fucking good?”

You gasped, grinding down against his hand, and he watched you unravel, like he was trying to memorize every twitch, every moan, every part of you.

He fucked you with his fingers slow at first, curling them just right, until your hips were jerking and your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Let me make you forget him”, he whispered.

And god, you did. You fell apart in his lap with his name on your lips, and when you came down, trembling and breathless, he already got his jeans undone, already guiding you on him with a look that said: ‘Please, just this once, let me have you’.

You took him teasingly slow. As you sank down on him, your fingers clutched the back of the seat, lips parted in shock at how good it felt— how right it felt even when it shouldn’t.

His hands held your hips, anchoring you as you started to move.

The car rocked, the windows fogged and the world outside disappeared.

All that was left was Han— his body, his voice, his mouth. The desperate gasps, and whispered curses.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart…. better than I ever imagined”, he groaned, head falling back.

That made you pause, “You… imagined this before?”

With eyes closed shut, he nodded, breath shaky, chest rising and falling fast. “Every time something went wrong”, he whispered, voice wrecked. “Every time he ignored your feelings cause he was at the studio. Every time you showed up glowing in a new dress and he barely looked at you before saying you looked pretty cause he had a deadline”

A choked sound escaped him— half groan, half confession— as he thrusted into you again. “Fuck… every time I thought, ‘I could be better for her. I could actually make her happy’ “.

Your eyes stung. From the overwhelming pleasure but also from him. From the way he was baring himself to you in a way no one else ever has.

You blinked, lashes heavy with tears, a lump forming in your throat. And then you kissed him. Hard. Deep. With everything— every buried feeling, every confused moment over the past few weeks.

You kissed him like he was the only thing that made sense in the middle of the wreckage you’d been walking through. And he kissed you back like he’d been waiting years. Like this was a secret he was finally allowed to speak.

His thrusts started to lose rhythm, stuttering, desperate, like he was chasing the edge just as hard as you were. The windows were completely fogged now, your skins slick with sweat, your hands gripping his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing left in the world.

You were so close it hurt, each grind sending heat spiraling low in your belly, pressure curling tight until you gasped, eyes wide and unfocused.

“Fuck, I’m…” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know, me too, just come with me”

And when he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, all while looking at you like you were the whole sky, that was what tipped you over. Your body tensed, then unraveled all at once— hot and shuddering, pleasure crashing over you in waves so strong you almost forgot to breathe.

He followed with a low moan of your name, hands gripping your hips as he came, pulling you down hard against him one last time.

Everything went silent, save for the sound of your panting breaths and the soft hum of the car engine.

You were still wrapped around him when he murmured, “I meant it, you know”

You blinked, heart still racing, “What?”

“All of it”, he said, voice low. “I know it is still soon, but I could be better for you. I want to be. I want to make you happy”

Your chest tightened. No one had ever said something like that after sex. Not to you, not like that.

You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his, and whispered, “You already are”

Han smiled, lazily and crooked, and then he added, “Also… you definitely ruined my backseat forever”

You laughed, breathless and full of something bright and warm and real. “Worth it, tho” you say.

“Guess we’ll just have to use the front seat next time”, he grinned.

You laughed harder this time, still tangled together, still flushed and bare and glowing. And then, you realized:

You might be completely fucked up

But maybe… you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Comment in any post if you want to be added :)

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa , @my-neurodivergent-world

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

409 notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 3 days ago

Text

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- This is a VERY angsty, please do NOT READ if you want the Geto (alt ending) this is how it was always supposed to go but I will have the happy version in a couple days. Heavy angst, reader is injured, mentions of pregnancy, reader has a baby, bittersweet and emotional, explicit sex (not with Geto) oral (f receiving) and longing/yearning. I cried 10 times so be aware lol WC this part- 7.7k

This version is does NOT END Sugu/Reader- the alt ending will! This is a Gojo/reader/ambiguous end. SKIP IT if you want the Geto end.

<<<Part Four - Playlist - Masterlist - Happy ending/alt end (soon)

Sad asf /Baby it's NO Good Ending

Satoru lifts you up into his arms effortlessly, tired students and sorcerers retreat tentatively, Suguru’s curses dissolve as if they weren’t there, all while your unconscious body lolls in Satoru’s arms. Suguru is speaking to his cult quickly, ordering them to stop and retreat for now, while Satoru waits, staring at your face now, looking so oddly peaceful for what happened.

Satoru had a feeling this would happen, and he hates himself for knowing it and bringing you anyway, but you were okay with it - willing even - to save everyone, he admires it about a girl he hardly knows. To put yourself and a baby in danger to reach out to Suguru, it shows just who you are, it’s easy to see how much Suguru has fallen, when Satoru never thought he would.

Suguru finally walks up, glaring at Satoru’s hold with eyes gone black, swiping blood off his cheek as he walks toward him now. “I can carry my wife.”

“You’ve really done such a great job taking care of her so far. I’ll carry her, I don’t trust you not to disappear and Shoko is the only one I trust helping her.”

“Tch, you think I don’t even want to help her?”

“Why? You left her.” Suguru snatches you up, and you hang so limply he feels sick, sighing in anguish as he looks at your listless body. “Now.”

Suguru never thought he’d listen to Satoru, but he does, following him now into Shoko’s medical set up, her brows raise as she sees Suguru for the first time in almost nine years, he notices how exhausted she is, all of the fun energy he remembers sapped away. He falters a moment, before carrying you inside, Satoru shuts the heavy door with an echoing bang.

“What’s happened?” Suguru delicately lays your unconscious frame, as Shoko sets to feeling your pulse.

“Energy blast from… one of my men.” Suguru gulps down it all, the fact that it’s even worse, that you were hurt by one of his by mistake.

He wants to kill that man right now.

“She’s pregnant.” Satoru mentions, as if it were so casual, and Shoko sighs now, nodding.

“Can’t be far along, she’s not showing.”

“Five weeks.” Suguru answers, quietly, as Shoko raises her hands now, and shuts her eyes, dark hair falling a bit over her shoulders.

“I can’t guarantee it will be okay, but I can save her.” Suguru’s heart shatters at her words, looking as the reverse curse technique starts working over you with the incandescent light.

“It’s all your fault. Why’d you fucking bring her here!?” Suguru walks up to Satoru now, smacking a hand as he brushes your hair a bit off your sleeping face, earning a glare behind white bandages.

“She asked to come.”

Suguru pauses. Are you that reckless?

“I told her no at first, but I thought she’d be the only thing to bring you to any of your fucking senses, have you stop killing my students, our friends.”

“I don’t have any fucking friends.”

Shoko scoffs, eyeing him with tired eyes now. “You did.”

“It’s not you all I wanted to eliminate, you simply chose to defend them, the weak, pathetic…” He can’t say it anymore, what he called them, what he called you.

“Weren’t you the one who said it’s our job to protect the weak?” Satoru’s voice is quiet now, reminding him of just that, the time he felt that way, naive and young.

“You continue to lose all your comrades and friends, Satoru you may be the strongest but it’s not worth it - without them, there are no more curses.”

“It’s not your choice to change how the world is. You’ve gone so far, the only person I’ve ever seen you love since you… changed… is here.” Satoru’s words nearly make him fall over with the pain, the grief, looking at your still unconscious body, as Shoko focuses harder.

“Please just save her.” He whispers now, and Satoru slips off his blindfold completely, blue eyes seeing right through him.

“You did this. If she doesn’t make it, it’s because of you.”

“I fucking know that!” Suguru shoves Satoru now, which merely earns a tired, sad little smile, while he grips his wrist before he lets Suguru strike him. “I know it, okay? I don’t even… fucking deserve her. I know it.” He’s close to tears as he shoves off Satoru, covering his face before he looks back at you.

It’s gone too far, god it’s all gone too far, hasn’t it?

How can he live with himself after what he’s done to you. He places a hand on yours, you don’t grip it how could you, limp and weak fingers, exhausted face growing just a little brighter. You’re exhausted from him, from the stress - god he left you in his bed, alone, naked and gleaming from your lovemaking.

Love making, it was love making.

You were his everything, and not once did he let you get treated or shown that way, what was just one time of worshipping your body when he didn’t worship or appreciate your soul? Your mind, your wishes, he barely knew you truly - he never gave you a chance to listen.

He hates himself.

He was going to kill them all, for a better world, but to lose the only important thing to him, in a room with two people who loved him?

What has he done?

“It’s not working.” He says then, worried as Shoko sighs, shaking her head.

“I need more time with her, her body is already in a rough state.”

“What rough state!?”

“She has a weak will, and she needs to have some will to make it through this.”

A weak will, because of him, he fucking knows it too- it’s all him that did this, that caused it, he wants to blame Satoru for putting you in danger, but it’s ultimately his fault. You begged him to stay despite having been forced into this, despite the horrible things he said and did to you, despite it all you still asked him. You still tried to break through, almost meeting your end.

You awaken suddenly with a gasp, sitting up, staring at an unfamiliar but pretty face of a woman in scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck. She smiles gently, you feel two men’s hands on you, Satoru’s holding one hand, Suguru the other, both staring up at you now.

“I’m sorry I put you in harm.” Satoru’s words are full of remorse, one of his eyes staring up at you, glimmering. “It was the only way but…”

“It’s okay. I chose to, it was the right thing.” He exhales in relief, as you look to Suguru now, torn between anger, relief and fear. “Suguru…”

“I ended the battle.” It’s all relief now, as you clutch him tightly, and all the love in your eyes makes him even more sick, how could you love him?

“It worked.”

“It was foolish, reckless-”

“You are not about to lecture her right now on being reckless.” Suguru scowls at Satoru’s words.

“Let’s talk while Shoko checks her out.” Suguru’s words are surprisingly soft, a way you’ve only heard a couple times, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Satoru and Suguru walk to the other end of the enormous room, footsteps echoing while Shoko murmurs softly. “I’m Ieri.”

“Thank you for… saving me, Ieri.” Your own quiet name makes her smile a bit, as she looks at Satoru and Suguru. “They were your friends, weren’t they?”

“Hmm, I guess they were. Let me check this heart rate, okay?” You nod, eyeing the two quiet men, as your disoriented mind and sore body process what happened.

“I know you owe me no favors, Satoru… but can I ask for one?” Satoru frowns now, leaning against the wall, as you sit up with Shoko’s help and speak quietly.

“You stopped the attack, if you’re willing to give this up, I’ll do you any favor.” He says, making Suguru sigh.

He doesn’t deserve you.

He doesn’t deserve Satoru.

He deserves no happiness for what he’s done, the horror in your eyes, the fear of the unknown, the baby just barely growing that surely would not survive with him near you. You look at him across the room, with those sad, broken eyes - he’d never made you happy, not once - yet you truly tried. You begged him to fucking stay and what did he do, what did he cause?

“I am taking Mimiko and Nanako far away.” Satoru’s blue eyes widen now.

“And your wife, yes?

“No.”

“Suguru, are you fucking serious, what more does the girl have to do to be with you!? She almost died to save you, not just everyone.” Satoru’s voice is a hushed whisper, eyes narrowed.

“That’s just it, I’m no good for her, or the baby if it… makes it. Chances are with me and how devastated I make her, it won't.”

“Suguru, she will forgive you.” Satoru puts a hand on his former best friend’s shoulder, coated in blood, and Suguru doesn’t shove it off, he takes a breath instead, shaking his head.

“She will, and so will you, but I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve her and I never did.”

“So become the man she needs, you’re not too-”

Suguru laughs harshly, taking Satoru’s hand off now, holding it for a moment, a million memories of their friendship falling as his hand falls. “Both of you make excuses, but I see what I did to her.”

“She’ll be okay, Shoko-”

“She’ll never be okay. Satoru, I have to ask you…”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking run, seriously!?” Suguru yanks him out of the room, out of your earshot now, Satoru crosses his arms, as the door echoes in the cold empty halls of the abandoned building they’d shielded Shoko in.

“Take care of her.” At Suguru’s broken words, tears feeling once cold eyes, Satoru falters, lips parting. “Take care of the baby if it… makes it.”

He glares, shoving at his old friend, who’s too down to not let him budge with the movement, forlorn look on his face. “You take care of them, become better.”

Suguru shakes his head. “I can’t face her. I can’t face what I’ve done, I need to go. Far, far away.”

“For how long!?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back. I know it’s a lot to ask - but I also know I can trust you to take care of her.” Satoru’s furious, not at the thought of taking care of you, but the fact that Suguru is running, that he still even now can’t accept love. “You will take care of her better than I could.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. She chose to come here, can’t you give her a chance?” Suguru peers through the door window, the thick pane of glass, sighing and touching it longingly, while Shoko checks your vitals.

“Please, for the friendship we had, take care of her. The girl I love.” Satoru’s own emotions make his throat close, while Suguru realizes just how deeply he loves you, more than he even could admit. But he didn’t choose you, no matter how deeply you begged him to, no he left you alone in that bed.

He can’t forgive himself for it.

He is not sure he cares about any other casualties, he wishes he did care more for that - he still sees humans as pests, he does not share Satoru’s view and maybe never will. But you so clearly need him to, and he realizes he’s too far in his own hatred still, you were that exception, that bright spot. You were the one regret he now holds, and he knows he loves you enough to let you go.

“Please look after her for me, Satoru.”

“Jesus christ, Suguru.” He swipes a hand through his long white hair, looking at you in that room, sighing. “Of course I will take care of her and the baby. But it should not be me.”

“Thank you.” Suguru puts his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, and for a moment Satoru sees him - the best friend he ever had, making what he thinks is the best decision for a girl he loves. He loves and feels, still deep down, and something breaks Satoru down then. “I went too far.”

He scoffs at that, sighing. “Understatement of the century. I will not tell her goodbye for you, though. You need to at least explain your stupid decision.”

Satoru walks back into the room, looking down at you now, you’re weak but alive, and he still senses two energies with his powerful six eyes. He gently holds out his hands, and you take them, using his help to stand, shaky now. “Are you feeling okay, sweets?”

“I’m okay.” You nod a smile just a bit, turning to Shoko. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. We’ll… give you two a moment.” She reads the room clearly, Satoru and Shoko have known each other so long it really just takes a look.

You watch curiously as they walk out, and Suguru has tears in his violet eyes, something you never thought you’d see, his face so serious and sullen it makes you panic. “Did they say the baby-”

“No, no, for now it all looks fine. Shh.” He pulls you against his strong chest, and you fall apart, sobbing now, shaking your head and shoving at him. “I know.”

“You know!? You know? You left me. You chose this over me.” You pull back, furious, chest heaving with the quickness of your breaths, your own cheeks covered in your tears now.

“I did. And that’s why I’m no good for you.”

You pause now, gasping. “What!?”

“It was selfish, so selfish not to let you run when you wanted to.” You’re shaking as he cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek, brushing aside the onslaught of tears, exhaling and leaning low. “I almost killed you.”

“You didn’t almost kill me, you almost killed everyone! Suguru, I’m fine.”

“Tch, are you!?” His grip on your waist draws you closer, while your head falls back, and you stare into a monster’s eyes - a monster you love. “Are you fine? You almost died.”

“I chose to come here, you can’t blame Satoru when I begged him to bring me. I had to try to save them, those innocent people!”

“It worked.”

You sigh, shaking further, burying your face against his chest, he’s covered in sweat and grime and blood from the battle, but you don’t care. “Are you done with this foolish effort?”

“I’m done.” You look up in shock, cupping his face now, and he leans so low, until your breaths mingle, hand shaking as it holds you.

“Thank God. Oh Suguru, thank God.” You pull him down for a kiss, full of all the relief in your heart. You’ve saved him, everyone is okay - glimpses of hope and something beautiful fill you with a light you’ve never had. He kisses you back so deeply, exhaling against your lips, deepening it and pulling you so tightly, his hard body enveloping yours.

“I should have told you.” He whispers, pulling back, lips almost against yours, nose brushing against yours.

You gulp, throat dry, in so much fear of what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do. “Told me what?”

“I love you. Fuck I love you, love when you hit me, love when you called me out, love the fire inside you.” His declaration makes your heart shatter, you want to be happy, but you feel it - his apprehension, his fear.

“Suguru…”

“I love you and don't deserve you.”

You glare now. “Don’t you do this, don’t you run.”

“Baby, this is how I can show how much I love you.” He cups your face with two big hands and long fingers, you’re glaring through your tears, gripping his wrists.

“Don’t you dare.” You whisper, teeth clenched, you feel it then, you feel him pushing you away, when he’s just close enough.

“Satoru will take care of you both, better than I could, he’ll be good to you-”

“What!? You’re shoving me off on your fucking friend?” You shove at his chest now, but he doesn’t budge, even as you smack at it, he doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of his grip. “If you love me you’ll run away with me, we can start over.”

The desperation in your voice tempts him to no end, god he’d love it, but he knows how much you’d suffer, always. “I am leaving, starting over.”

“Not with me?” Your hurt pours through every word, and Suguru wants to bring you, god he does, but he knows it so clearly - he could never make you happy.

“You’ll be better off this way. You and the baby.”

“Bullshit, it’s such bullshit Suguru!”

“It’s the truth, I love you enough to finally do this.” He brushes your hair back tenderly, you smack his hand scowling up at him.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to abandon me after not choosing me - just to not choose me again!”

“It’s not that,” your sobs wrack your body, as he steps back, brushing back his tangled dark locks. “I am choosing your happiness.”

“Why can’t it be with you?” Your broken whisper makes his heart break, but he loves you so much, he just knows.

This is right.

“I can’t look you in those beautiful eyes and know what pain I caused, I can’t have you looking at the monster I am.”

“You’re my fucking monster, okay? Mine!” You shove him again, he just sighs, defeated. “I love you Suguru Geto. I do, despite it all, despite how completely fucked in the brain you were, I love you dammit. You can’t just leave me now, like I’m some damn pet you can’t take care of. I love-”

He’s slammed his lips again, desperate and hungry, and you fall into him, as his kisses grow more and more ardent, pulling back just to take a breath, hand slipping up your spine. The contact alone makes you shiver, tongue meeting his stroke for stroke, so much emotion in this one kiss you wish it would last forever, fingers clinging to the silk of his robes.

“Don’t do this. I can only forgive so much.” He sighs at that, as you’re sniffling, eyes fucking burning.

“You’ll thank me one day, if we meet again - how happy you’ll be without me.” He breaks away then, as you crumble, holding your stomach while the sobs seem fucking endless.

“Don’t leave me, please, not again, I can’t take it.” He looks back at you as he stands by that door, pulled between being selfish and selfless.

But only for a moment.

“I’ll love you till I take my last breath. You’re not just human, you are the most special thing that’s existed.” You collapse to the floor while he walks out, the world collapsing around you, the hope you had for just a moment crushed.

He will never choose you.

“Suguru go the fuck back in there, stop feeling sorry for yourself, what are you doing to that girl?” Satoru shoves at him then, but Suguru knows it, he can’t live with himself let alone be with you, cause you pain, ruin you further.

“A moment of pain in order to be free of me. She thinks she’s in love with me now, but it’s because of her being trapped. She just thinks she does, but I don’t deserve it, not worthy of it.”

“You don’t think you deserve it, so earn it. Just stop this bullshit.”

“Satoru, thank you for not… giving up. But I can’t live with what I did, seeing it in her eyes every day. Please, just care for her.” Satoru glares and crosses his arms.

“Running away. You’re just running away.”

“Good bye, Satoru.” Suguru is gone, just like that, leaving Satoru to punch the wall in anger, and of course it starts crumbling with his strength, you gasp out in shock at the sound and he curses, resting his head for a moment.

He almost had his best friend back.

He walks in to see you so small and helpless in the big room on the floor, holding yourself in a hug, devastating to look at, when your eyes meet his. Satoru walks up to you then, sitting right on the ground, his legs crossed, brushing his fingers comfortingly against your shoulder. You’re shaking so badly, skin hot to the touch, he can even hear how fast your heart was.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” You do it with his help, you feel weak and devastated beyond repair, while he pulls you against his chest, holding you to him, letting you cry against his dark jacket, rubbing your back up and down.

“You don’t have to take care of me, S-satoru okay, I c-can do it alone. I have family that may understand-”

“No.” His word is firm, precise, you tilt your head up and look into brilliant blue eyes, lips pressed together. “I promised him and I won’t break it.”

“I’ll just be some burden to you. It’s bullshit, him leaving, bullshit.”

“Yeah. I know. But I will take care of you. Okay?” You shake your head, sniffling now. “I will.”

“I believe you, but how could he? After… I told him I loved him.” Satoru tenderly brushes your cheek, swiping some of your tears.

“He doesn’t believe he deserves it from either of us.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Satoru sighs.

“I don’t know. But for now, come on.” He stands carefully, picking your still weak body in his arms.

“I can walk.”

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?” Your lips barely twitch, as you hold onto his neck.

“I guess so. I’m sorry you’re just stuck with-”

“Shh, it’s fine. Let’s get you somewhere you can rest.”

*****

One year later

You lay your little girl Noa down in her crib for the night, smiling as you touch her precious cheek, and Satoru leans in the doorway, smiling at the two of you. Her dark locks resemble her father, but aside from that she’s a spitting image of you. You look up at Satoru as you put a finger to your lips, signaling for him to be quiet, and he crooks his two fingers, asking you to come out.

“You can have a little wine now, she’s on formula mostly now, right?” He murmurs, as he takes your hand in his, and you pause - because it feels too good lately. God, he looks too good, after a year of living with him, having him hold you, hold your baby.

Satoru was literally her father, he helped you constantly, and you never paid for a thing, despite your frequent protests. Satoru went above and beyond anything you assumed when he promised Suguru that day - and the two of you have never talked to him since. The last Satoru found out, he moved to another country with the two girls, and the rest of the cult silently disbanded.

You miss Suguru every day, but Satoru slowly fills the void, the huge black hole he left when he abandoned you that day, and though you’ll always love Suguru Geto, as well Satoru, clearly, you also feel more and more for the man taking care of you. Even though you’ve fought it, for months after the baby it changed, how attractive you find him, hating yourself for it.

How can you pine away for a man never coming back?

But how can you move on after a love like that?

But you don’t realize Satoru can’t stop craving you, aching for you - also feeling fucking horrible. Suguru asked him to take care of you, and it was like he knew he would also grow to love you, but for different reasons than Suguru. He loves how funny, sarcastic and sweet you are. He loves how much you adore your little girl, and he loves her too.

He loves how you smile, how your cheeks get warm when he presses a friendly kiss on them, how the lights hit your pretty face. How sweet your scent is, how easy it is to be with you. Cooking together, taking care of Noa, just existing, you bring peace he didn’t know existed, as Satoru feels like a real home to you.

Satoru can’t imagine not coming home to the two of you, sometimes missions can last weeks, but you’re ready with a perfect meal and his favorite dessert. You’re always so happy when he comes home, hugging him tightly. The two of you hold each other, talking about Suguru at times, and how much you miss him, how much Satoru misses him.

Once last week you were crying, he had you against his chest, tilting your chin up, whispering the sweetest words. You felt all those body changes, the stretch marks, the extra skin, but he told you - ‘you’re gorgeous, okay?’ and you’d faltered, you almost kissed him, if not for your little girl crying.

You both had avoided each other that night after, he’d blushed furiously, as had you, but that was when something shifted, and the need grew more and more. Now looking at your joined hands, longing breaks through, but along with that so much confusion.

Could you be with someone else?

His best friend, that he left you with, did Suguru… expect this? Or would he be devastated, or would he even care? Did he keep tabs on you and the daughter he abandoned - for what he felt were the right reasons - or was it something he shoved far back. At times you were furious at Suguru for it, at times distraught, but sometimes you realize your life has become happy.

“Sorry…” Satoru pulls back now, that pink on his high cheeks again, but you take his hand back, shaking your head.

“I can drink a little wine, I’d enjoy some.” You smile and he exhales in relief, leading you down just one set of his elegant staircase. Satoru lived in a whole mansion honestly. But it still felt homey, it wasn’t like Suguru’s…

Suguru.

You loved him.

He left you.

And the man across from you pouring wine in your glass is beautiful, with his soft sweater and freshly washed hair, tousled just so, blue eyes soft as they study you carefully, you’re falling more, day by day. It’s not the insane madness, the brutal craziness of Suguru, it was something soft and sweet and beautiful.

“Want to watch our show?” He asks, and you nod, taking the glass from his fingers, they softly brush each other, sending trembles through the both of you, while your eyes lock, fingers staying there a moment too long. “Taste it.”

You take a breath, putting the sweet red wine to your lips, moaning at how good it is, a little drop on the corner of your mouth that he swipes away gently. You pause, as he stands there, leaning low, the huge house so quiet, your heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing to your head.

“Sorry.” He says again, clearing his throat, but you set the glass down, stepping up to him, so close, too close. Satoru’s hands ache to touch you, his lips die to touch yours. “Everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” You sigh, hands slipping up his soft sweater, under that material, touching his bare chest and feeling it tense, a soft growl from his throat, when his hand entangles in your hair then.

“Keep touching me like that, and I will lose it.” His firm words, when he’s usually so sweet, just make you more excited, tummy flipping, clenched with desire.

“Lose what?” You touch him again, and his breath quickens, as he leans even lower, stepping you back, bit by bit, lips so close while you’re being pressed until the back of your knees hit the couch.

“The control. I can’t take you touching me.” He grips your wrists, and you turn him then, pressing him on the couch, straddling him, he gasps, as your own control fades to nothing. “You’re pushing me around, huh?”

“Maybe I am, Toru.” The nickname ruins him, as your lips crash against his, for the first time - and it feels far too good.

You never knew if you’d feel good again, the endless nights of crying for the man that left you, not once but twice, that put so much ahead of you, only to not even choose his baby, his friend, you. But you don’t hold resentment, no you still love that man, the one who ran from you all, but you feel good, Satoru’s lips are perfect, and for once you can let it go.

Just in this moment, let it all go, nothing but how perfect Satoru’s tongue feels against yours, as he’s so gently holding back. You’re grinding on him, earning his throaty moan, soaking wet when you feel his length, god you want him. You can’t stop it anymore, wanting the man who does everything for you and Noa, despite knowing how deeply connected he is to Suguru.

“God, I’ve wanted you,” Satoru’s kissing up your neck, as a hand grips your breast so gently, like he’s scared to hurt you, lips hovering on the shell of your ear now. “Tell me to stop, tell me I’m a bad friend.”

You shake your head, taking a breath. “You’re not, look at how good you take care of…. mmm, us… ah!” He’s nipped your ear with his teeth, moaning as he does, the sound igniting something inside you laid dormant.

“He shouldn’t have asked me.” He pulls back, a serious look on his face. “Now I’ve fallen, and fuck if I can stop if we go any further.”

You cup his face now, arching your hips just so, making him whimper softly, snowy lashes lowered as your heat hits him, rushing across his cock in those sweats now. His hands slip down to them, as he presses kisses on your breasts, swollen just a bit still from the baby, tempting him to no end.

“I’ve only… with him.” He pauses, blinking up at you in surprise, and you feel yourself flustered at admitting it.

“Shit that makes it worse for me to do.”

“It’s not… I… just wanted to tell you. I’m not the most experienced at certain things.” He nods then, swallowing, pressing up and watching your head fall back, making him throb harder with need.

“It’s been a year for me, so it’s been a bit, okay?” You blink in shock.

“You haven’t with…”

“How can I?” You’re kissing him more desperately now, feeling your body respond to every touch, every kiss, every brush.

“Please.” Your whisper ruins Satoru, he’s felt himself lose the will to stop, to rationalize it, but he can’t find rationale with you.

“Then we take it slow for you.” He lifts you off him, laying your back on that couch now, fingers trailing so delicately, it’s not rough, angry, brutal, it’s like he’s softly mapping your body, inch by inch, until he runs them up your thigh, parting them. “But make your decision, sweetheart, I won’t be able to stop.” His desperation is felt with every quick breath of yours, cunt growing slicker.

“I want you, Satoru… I have for… a long time.” He exhales, sliding down your body, sweet kisses on your thighs, thumb pressing your panties, and you cry out, covering your face then.

“She can’t hear you from down here, let go. Feel.” He’s kissing your thighs higher, hungrier as he slips down your shorts, tossing them, lapping at your soaked panties with his tastebuds, while blue eyes look up under hooded lids.

“Satoru!” You’re gripping his hair, so tightly it hurts, while he tastes it, the sweetness he’s been dying to for most of the time you’ve lived here. He fought it, so hard, but how can he not want you? When you look like that, feel like that, taste like this, it’s making him fucking feral, losing his strong control. “Sorry!”

“No, pull it.” He pulls your panties aside, studying your pretty pussy, you shyly almost cover your tummy a bit when he pauses you. “You’re beautiful, you were beautiful pregnant too.”

“Oh I, ah!” He’s parted them now, pressing a kiss to your bare, glistening cunt, and your body relaxes, while his hand covers your tummy.

“I thought it was so sexy pregnant, couldn’t say it.” He shakes his head, while tears of emotion and desire fill, he makes you feel so beautiful, so desired then.

The only time Suguru had done that was the last time.

One last time.

It feels so far away, so different, but you feel it in your heart - you love Satoru, you still love Suguru - fuck, Satoru loves Suguru still. But you both have to finally let him go, just a bit, and together you both do, as he’s delving into your slick, gummy walls with his long, talented tongue, all while studying you, so careful, watching every movement of your body.

There are no ‘i hate yous’ and there is no anger.

You just want him, and want him so badly.

You hate yourself for it, but at the same time, you deserve to feel loved, to feel happy, devoted as Satoru worships you, freely. He’s flicking his tongue on your clit in quick, sure flicks, as his long fingers sink in your eager cunt, hitting your g spot with just enough pressure you feel your orgasm taking you over.

“Satoru, oh my god I’m…”

“Cum, let me sip you sweetheart, that’s it.” He encourages softly, and you do, gushing all over his pretty face, he kisses you then, your taste swathed on his lips, desperate as you slip off his pants, stroking his thick, long cock, watching him whine over you. “Are you still sure?” He asks once more, tip against your entrance.

“I want this.” He exhales in relief, a hand entwining with yours as he sinks inside of you, no pain just a delicious fucking stretch, that has you screaming out, so loud he kisses you.

“Maybe not that loud, hmm?” He smirks, and you giggle - fuck you giggle all the time with him, don’t you? A far cry from the sad, depressed girl you were.

“Sorry, f-feels s’good…” He moans now, feeling your walls grip his cock, and he can’t take it, shoving your thighs up high, you gasp as he does, sinking deeper, tip against your cervix. He’s slow, letting you feel every fucking inch, as you spasm around him so close again.

“I’d love to put a baby in you, don’t you see, I’m horrible.” He rests his head on yours as his huge hands press up your thighs, and you gasp, clinging to the couch desperately as he works you. “I want all of you. I shouldn’t.”

He shouldn’t, right?

But how can he not.

He loves you.

With every stroke, kiss and whisper, you fall apart, dropping the last of your barriers for him, feeling the peak closer and closer. “You want that, Satoru?”

“God yes. You are so p-pretty pregnant, fuck… I shouldn’t have thought all those things…”

“Tell me.” Your whisper ends him, he’s slamming his cock, covering your mouth as your eyes roll back.

“Wanted you then, tits swollen, tummy so full, all I could think of was how I wanted to suck these pretty nipples, drink up all that milk from them.” He lets your thighs fall, they squeeze his hips, when he kisses a breast, bowing his back to do so, and your hands press into his strong biceps, as you whine out. “I’ve wanted you, sweetheart. Now I want you to cum on me.”

You’re done, with one more roll of his hips, you’re cumming so hard you can’t keep quiet, he’s gotta put that hand back on your mouth, watching your eyes roll back in your skull. He whispers as the orgasm rides over you ‘that’s it, sweets, there you go, so pretty’ as he presses kisses, letting you cum down, until he fills you up himself, so much cum.

He hasn’t been with anyone in a year.

How could he be, when you lived here?

You’re cumming with him again, tears falling as you kiss him, and he pulls back, frowning with worry. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m just really happy, Satoru.” Your tremulous smile ends him, and soon you’re in his bed, in his arms as he presses kisses on your shoulder. He sighs, addressing the silent thoughts while you both stare out his window at the night sky.

“Do you think he knew I’d fall in love with you?” You frown a bit, looking back at him now, your hand tightening over his.

“I don’t know. But Satoru, I love you too.” He kisses you softly, nuzzling your noses together. “You still love Suguru.”

“And so do you.” You nod then, and he swallows a bit, smiling now. “That’s okay, it’s okay to still love him.”

“Even though he’s an emo bitch?” Satoru snorts, as do you, through your emotions.

“Even though he’s emo enough for a whole 2006 band by himself.”

“With a god complex.”

“Well… I have that too.”

“I have curious taste.” He chuckles, and you turn in his embrace, brushing his soft white locks back, kissing him again, until the two of you fall back into each other, the entire night.

*****

Two years since you saw or heard from Suguru Geto

Suguru swallows nervously as he knocks on his old friend’s door - wondering if you still lived there. He was sure Satoru moved you in, why wouldn’t he? He knows you were in good hands, surely, but finally, he feels it - the draw to come back. He doesn’t expect you to forgive him, but he wants to see you, and to see his child for the first time.

He wonders, was it a boy or girl?

The door opens, and he expects his friend, only to have to look down at that face that’s haunted his dreams, his thoughts for two years. Your eyes are wide when you see him, as if you’ve seen a fucking ghost, and maybe he was to you, your mouth open wide as he hears giggling, tinkling like a little bell.

“Get here, you little brat!” Satoru’s laughing, running after a quick little girl with chubby arms flailing, and Suguru sees her then.

His daughter.

He looks back to you, opening his mouth to say something, anything, when he gazes at your body, and sees the changes.

You’re pregnant.

Satoru stops and picks up the little girl, grinning at you before he sees Suguru, then his own eyes widen, while the little girl just giggles waving at Suguru, not knowing who he was. How could she? His heart breaks into pieces when he sees her perfect face, she looks just like you, aside from already long black hair, silky and tied up in a cute little pony tail.

She’s precious, she’s perfect.

He feels it, what’s been missing, when he manages a little smile at her, and Satoru steps closer, while you’re still stunned, as you see him. You never thought you’d see him again, this past year has been spent living your life with Satoru and your daughter, and then you’d found out you were expecting. Satoru was oddly traditional, putting a ring on your finger one day.

‘You’re kind of married to my best frenemy but this will do for now’

He’d said it so casually you’d giggled, as he carried you to the room, the lovemaking was endless between you, but moreso it was the friendship- a beautiful friendship, truly. A partnership built on mutual love of Suguru at first, but of course it blossomed, until you were each other’s world, though you saw Suguru every day in your daughter.

Two years. No word.

He looks different, he’s slimmer and less buff, his hair is shorter and tied up, and he has some dark circles, but he’s as handsome as you remember. He clears his throat a bit now, rubbing the back of his neck, gone was the insanely commanding man, and replaced was one just a little unsure.

Your heart splits in half.

“Suguru, come in.” Satoru’s words surprise him, as he looks at you again, your hand on your tummy.

Is this how you looked pregnant with his daughter?

“Please come in, Suguru.” You whisper, and he nods, trying to placate a smile on his face as everything threatens him, to yank you in his arms, kiss you, press you against that wall. To tell you how badly he’s craved it, your taste, your moans, your pretty sighs, how he’s not stopped thinking of you.

But you’ve moved on, it’s clear as day with your bump growing, with how your daughter calls Satoru ‘papa’ then. He wants to be furious, but he caused it, he shoved you right into Satoru’s arms, and knew he’d fall for you, just like Suguru did. How could anyone not love you.

“Hi! Hi!” The girl says, and Suguru smiles at her, stepping closer, as she cups his cheek with her little hand.

“Hi there. I’m your parents… very distant best friend.” His soft declaration eats you alive, as you and Satoru eye each other for a moment.

“Play! Play!” Suguru chuckles, you’re not sure you really ever heard that from him, unless it was dark, mocking.

“Let’s give them a minute to catch up, clean up for dinner. You staying for dinner, Suguru?” Satoru asks, so casually as if they were just old friends, and Suguru almost breaks down.

He doesn’t deserve to be invited in.

He didn’t deserve either of your love.

“If you’d like me to.” He directs the question to you, and you nod a little, smiling tremulously.

“Please do.”

“Then it’s settled, be back sweetheart.” Satoru plants a kiss right on your lips, and you melt just a bit, before tensing, glaring at Satoru as he grins. “What?”

“You’re ridiculous!” He just chuckles, winking as he takes her to get cleaned up, leaving you with Suguru, who’s scowling at his retreating figure.

“He’s as annoying as ever.” You burst into laughter, before it turns to tears, and Suguru falters, holding a hand up, hovering near your cheek. “Fuck, I… I am so sorry I left. I’m sorry for it all.”

“It’s okay, just please, stay for dinner. Let us see you again. Let her meet you, please.” You’re a mess, and he hugs you against his chest now, feeling your tummy nudge him, your breasts against his chest, a mix of fury and understanding, longing and loathing.

“Are you happy?” His question is simple.

You are happy.

But you missed him, fuck you missed him. But now…

“Suguru um, I…” You sigh, holding his hand, stepping back just a bit, and his other hand brushes aside your tears. “I’m happy with Satoru. I love him. I know you must hate me for saying this-”

“No.” He puts a finger to your lips, pausing, looking just how beautiful they are, how beautiful you are, you always were. “I saw how he looked at you the day you met, I knew this would happen.”

“Then why!? Then why!” You pull back, shaking your head, and Suguru looks away, jaw clenching.

“I knew he’d make you happy and I couldn’t. And I loved you enough to let you have it.” Your heart is shattered into a million pieces, the baby kicks in response and you cry out just a bit. “Calm down, please…”

“I just don’t get it, I don’t get you Suguru, maybe I never will. Are you back or just… visiting?” You’re swiping at your own tears.

“I’m here for a bit. I came to see you both. Well… all three of you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Your daughter, she’s beautiful.”

“Her name is Noa.” You say, and Suguru can’t stop the smile from growing, brushing your hair off your shoulder.

“Love?”

“Love.” You touch his hand with a small smile. “Please stay for dinner, and… just talk.”

“I kind of want to kill Satoru even more than before.”

“Wanna take this outside then?” Satoru’s cocky grin meets Suguru’s eye roll - and you know this memory well from Satoru’s tales - of a basketball game with the two of them, over ten years ago now. But you see it.

They still love each other, even though Satoru has you against his side, possessive hand on your waist, and Suguru’s violet eyes glare a bit. “You took my wishes a little too far.”

“Should’ve been more specific, less emo.”

“Satoru I swear-”

“Hi, hi! Up, up!” Noa runs to Suguru, surprising Satoru and you both, as the little girl really only loves you two.

Suguru leans down, picking her up in his arms, grinning bigger than you’ve ever seen, as you barely hold it together, Satoru’s hand soothing on your back, pressing a kiss on your temple. “You’re mine, you know.” He whispers in your ear.

“Possessive, hmm?” You smile up at him, and he sighs, looking over at his friend and his daughter.

“Very, but… it’s nice to have him home.” Satoru’s words are only meant for your ears, as you glance at a man you loved, a toxic man - one who made horrible decisions - but you see it, his change, his genuine adoration of Noa then. And you look back at the other man you love, so deeply, and something about it…

Feels perfect.

Now if you read this after I warned you, I'll hear no complaining aha - if you're reading both, happy Suguru end will be VERY soon. If you just wanted the sad ending, I hope you enjoyed. It's bittersweet <3 This is how I intended it to end but so many ppl fell for our cult leader I'll have his own version. Ty for reading this~ if it's your chosen end, see you in my other ficsss!

taglist 1 @ur-1fav-girl @gradmacoco @arabellasolstice @saitamaswifey @uarmyhopeworldwide @makkiihehe @dabisdolly @angelzrulez21-blog @juicu @meme848 @arcanedx @satxoru @jeon-blue @longlivegojo @satorusaysiloveyou @enhasrii @inthedarkshadows000 @shokosmokes @schlokki @ashdiamashi @socutesotall @staarflowerr @you-need-namjesus @pkcoleight @tasteofapplecider @erenspersonalwh0re @makingtimemine @boobsbeesbongos @sjstg3 @msniks @hhhhhhhikariiiiiiii @l1v1ngzomb1e @lilbxtchsyndrome @maddyhehehehhe @nanamiskentos @yenayaps @slamonwords @nonamevenus @sugurumylove @shibataimu @spicy-woodland-queen @nonamebbsblog @notyuralycat @beabamboo @satttanx @curlyhairkk @7thsthings @ziggy0stardust @slutlight2ndver

#suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #SatoSugu x reader ???#maybe lol #geto angst #jjk angst #jjk arranged marriage #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk geto #cult leader geto #divider by strangergraphics

637 notes · View notes

chanelrolls · 2 days ago

Text

blizzard? i hardly know her

pairing. afab!fem reader x CALEB (modern college au)

tags. fluff, nsfw, smut, mature content, cheesy romance, forced proximity, slowburn, unestablished relationship, plot-based, tension, so much tension, accidental sleepover, zayne & caleb are sibs with a mum, eventual smut, oral, t!tplay, f!ngering, penetration, missionary, slight manhandling, 18+

synopsis. what happens when you get stuck inside your crush's house?

wc. 6.9k (lmao)

crunch. crunch. crunch.

the frosty snow lies thick beneath your boots, making a satisfying crunch with every heavy step you take. your thick fur boots keep you warm as you wander up the quiet street, heading toward the center of town. each house you pass is decked out in bright, cheerful christmas lights, shimmering merrily. it’s still early, just 2 o’clock, but it feels like the entire town is already wrapped in the christmas spirit.

well, it is the 22nd of december. with only three days left until the long-awaited 25th, it’s no surprise that festive excitement lingers in the air.

ah, winter. the season that always felt like magic. your favorite time of the year. but this time, something was different. this time, you were actually doing something bold.

you held the small, carefully wrapped package tighter between your gloves, heart pounding as you took in the cold air. you knew exactly where you were headed and who it was for.

caleb.

he was the kind of guy every girl dreamed about; smart, charismatic, manly, athletic, and ridiculously good-looking. a bit older than you. you'd been lowkey obsessed with him for half a year. yes, you kept track.

you wanted to talk to him so many times, but every chance slipped past. you didn’t have the guts. you had no idea how to even start a convo with a guy you liked. were you supposed to act casual? or make it obvious? how do people even do this?

the funny part? caleb and you had never even spoken. not once. you were practically strangers. but he was popular, the kind of guy people naturally gravitated toward. everyone liked him. which meant if you didn’t make a move soon, someone else definitely would.

so yeah, you needed to act. fast.

and somehow, through sheer force of will and probably a touch of delusion, you came up with a plan: give him a christmas gift. nothing huge. just something small... and anonymous. no pressure, just a gesture.

luckily, you knew something most people didn’t. caleb’s family owned that cozy little bakery down the street. they lived right above it, in the apartment on the second floor. which made things easy since there was a letterbox right next to the bakery door. accessible and just perfect. the plan was really simple: drop off the gift, then vanish. just you, taking a tiny step closer to the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

your stomach started doing that weird twisty thing again the closer you got to caleb’s bakery. the street was quiet, but the snow was beginning to fall faster now, tiny flurries brushing your cheeks, clinging to your coat. you picked up the pace. if you dropped the gift off fast enough, you could make it home before the snow really picked up.

except... you didn’t. because just as you stopped in front of the bakery, frozen and staring at the familiar brick facade, you heard a faint voice that sounded like it was calling for somebody.

your heart practically jumped out of your chest. you spun around, eyes wide. there was no one around. but the snow had gotten worse. way worse. you could barely see down the road now. great. just great.

you were such an idiot. there had been blizzard warnings all week. and you, genius that you were, had thought today of all days was the perfect time to sneak out and play santa.

this was bad. really bad.

you whimpered when something sharp, maybe a twig or a chunk of ice, scratched across your cheek. the cold bit harder now, winds screaming past your ears. panic rose like a wave. you spun around, searching, desperate, but there was nothing. just white. endless, suffocating white.

and then, arms. strong ones, wrapping around you before you could even scream. you kicked once, tried to twist away, heart hammering like a drum, but your body was too numb to fight back.

you were being dragged, somewhere. and then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

a bell chimed overhead. warmth hit your face. your nose filled with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, and something buttery. the sound of the wind dulled behind you.

a bakery...

you blinked the snow out of your eyes, breath uneven, still bracing to fight whoever had grabbed you. and then, "are you alright?" you instantly looked up at the familiar voice. standing there, a towel in hand, snow in his dark hair and a concerned frown on his face—was zayne. caleb’s older brother.

so there you were.

the older brother of your crush was standing right in front of you, waiting for an answer. and oh, you were inside his family’s bakery. and above this very shop? their house. which meant... caleb was probably somewhere upstairs right now. maybe even within earshot. oh, and let’s not forget the tiny detail that a literal snow blizzard was raging outside. no one in their right mind would be out in that. except you, naturally.

and in your hand? a poorly hidden, slightly crumpled gift you were now awkwardly trying to shield behind your back like some suspicious cartoon character. how dandy could things possibly get?

you nodded at zayne, way too eagerly. like, suspiciously eagerly. like those nodding dogs that people placed in the dashboards of their car.

zayne narrowed his eyes at you doubtfully,

“[name], right?” he asked, arms placed at his sides loosely. you nodded again. silent. awkward. praying the gift behind your back would suddenly vanish into thin air.

it wasn’t surprising that he knew your name. in a town like this, everyone knew everyone. gossip traveled faster than snowstorms.

“take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair near the counter. “i’ll go get my mum. she’ll know what to do.” you hesitated, but your legs were too cold and tired to argue. the gift stayed clenched in your hands behind your coat as you shuffled toward the seat, cheeks burning. zayne turned and walked off, calling out, “mum!” as he disappeared into the back.

you were alone now. in his bakery. with his gift. and his family upstairs. great. just great.

moments later, footsteps echoed from the stairs behind the counter. then came a voice, warm, lively, and full of disbelief. “zayne, who in their right mind would even be outside right now? the news said—” she stopped mid-rant when your eyes met hers.

“oh, my stars!” mrs. xia gasped, practically flying toward you with a flurry of movement and a hand pressed to her chest. “darling, what happened? are you hurt? are you frozen? do you even have gloves? look at your face, it’s all red—”

“mum,” zayne cut in, clearly used to the routine as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “you’re overwhelming her.”

“nonsense,” she said, swatting a hand at him, still hovering over you, staring at you with the eyes caleb had inherited from, while zayne probably got his from their father. “go make her some hot chocolate. extra marshmallows.” zayne sighed at the sudden obligation, but nonetheless vanished back into the kitchen with reluctant acceptance.

you were officially alone, with the mother of your crush. and she was observing you like you were a lost duckling. “well then,” she began, folding her arms and leaning just a little too close. “how are you feeling?”

"i... i'm okay. just a little cold..."

"well, i'll bet you are! whatever were you doing wandering outside?"

your grip tightened around the gift behind you. you smiled, then lied. “i… i just wanted some air.”

her eyes narrowed, suspicious but amused. “in the middle of a snowstorm?”

you forced a chuckle, trying to look casual. “y-yes. it was… a really strong urge.”

"ah, now look at you," she laughed, before noticing your uncomfortable expression. "oh my dear, i'm so sorry, i'm such a scatterbrain! here, give me your coat," mrs. xia's outstretched hand made you suddenly aware of your shivering frame. with trembling hands, you undid the buttons of your coat, shrugging out of the soppy mess. instantly, you felt the warmth of the bakery's cozy atmosphere seeping through the fabric of your long-sleeved top. you're still holding caleb's gift protectively.

mrs. xia took your coat, draping it over a radiator. "there, there, now once you've got some hot chocolate in you, you'll be warm and better in no time!" she beams at you, clasping her hands together. "that's if my incompetent son manages to make it for you."

the thudding footsteps coming down the stairs rang out, and then revealed a frowning zayne with a cup of steaming hot chocolate between his fingers. his obvious scoffing received a light chortle from mrs. xia, watching as zayne turn towards you. you gently take the beverage from him, pinkies faintly brushing against one another. you try to hold yourself back from taking a long sniff of the mouthwateringly sweet aroma across your watchful saviours, so you slowly take a sip. "it's lovely," you look up at them. "thank you..."

zayne crosses his arms while sneaking a glance at his mother in response, the corner of his lips subtly lifted. all mrs. xia could do was to raise her hands up in defeat.

after getting scolded by your mother on the phone call, you passed the phone to mrs. xia when she gestured for it, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the motherly concern turned into light banter, like two women slipping into a shared rhythm. the volume of their voices carried, but the meaning was distant now. their laughter settled into the corners of the room.

you sat curled on the edge of the chair, a blanket draped over your shoulders like a lifeline. the mug of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of you, its surface now still, save for a lone marshmallow melting into the brown. your hands were no longer trembling, but your mind hadn’t caught up.

the gift was tucked underneath the blanket now, safe but painfully present. its shape still pressed against your side. you hadn’t decided what you were going to do with it yet. the original plan had evaporated with the first gust of wind that knocked you off your—

footsteps.

zayne approached you quietly, though there was a kind of presence to him that made silence feel heavier. you looked up just as he stopped beside your chair. his hands were shoved into the pockets of his dark sweater, and the light caught in the glint of his cuff. his eyes flicked down to the mug, then returned to you. no smile. just that same unreadable calm.

but then he said, with a voice that was quieter than the rest of him. “be honest. did it taste good?”

you blinked, taken off guard. his tone wasn’t sarcastic. it wasn’t cold, either. it was... curious. like your opinion actually mattered. you nodded after a moment, the corners of your mouth lifting, unsure. “yeah. it did. just sweet enough.”

there was the smallest shift in his posture.

“good,” he looked away, “mum always makes it too sugary. i adjusted the recipe a bit.”

"don't you mean caleb adjusted it?" a voice sounded from the entrance of the backroom, and your head snapped to the source abruptly, zayne mirroring your actions, although less frantic.

don't blush. act cool. nonchalant. not a big deal.

oh, who are you kidding? of course, this is a big deal!

because standing right there, leaning against the doorframe so effortlessly, and looking so extremely attractive, was caleb. caleb xia. the whole reason why you were in this mess in the first place.

tall and loose-limbed, with the kind of posture that made everything about him look unbothered. his brown hair was tousled in that way that looked intentional but probably wasn’t. soft strands fell across his forehead, catching the light like autumn leaves. but it was his eyes that held you the longest. a pale lilac that didn’t quite belong to this world. they were beautiful.

his gaze swept over the room slowly before settling on you, and though he wasn’t smiling, there was something playful in the tilt of his mouth, the subtle raise of one brow.

it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

hang on a minute...

"i... thought zayne made it for me?" you dragged your words, your voice coming out louder than you intended, more so to yourself than to anyone in particular. now all of your nerves that were previously panicking was replaced by confusion.

caleb gives zayne a dry look, before turning to face you fully.

oh, that gorgeous, sexy, amazing, and handsome face!

"there are two things you should know about my brother," caleb told you, the sound of your name in his slow, steady voice completely warming your insides.

oh my GOD. he's talking to me. he's talking to ME and looking at ME.

his footsteps dragged on across the floorboards while he stepped closer. "one: zayne plus the kitchen equals a disaster, and two: he may appear like a knight in shining silk but he's a total liar."

zayne only stared at him with a cold glare, and caleb smiled back cheekily at him. his gorgeous amethyst eyes holding a spark of mischief, "so who's mum on the phone to?"

"my mum," you replied, (even though it looked like it was zayne he was asking) to which caleb nodded in quiet understanding. a brief silence fell upon you, so you took another sip from the hot chocolate, the knowledge that your crush being the one who actually made it, now heartwarmingly sitting in your head.

caleb noticed.

"i make a pretty good hot chocolate, huh?" caleb chuckled handsomely, striding through the room and hopping on one of the chairs across the shop counter.

"better than pretty good, actually..."

"better than pretty good actually." you hear zayne mutter beneath his breath as he walked past you, now making a beeline for the stairs at the back. whether he was mocking or teasing you, you didn't know. you couldn't make a judgement for now with insufficient knowledge of how zayne is. but his eyes earlier held a teasing spark, you try to convince yourself.

you steal a glance from caleb, who was currently texting in his phone.

"honey, are you alright?" the concerned voice of mrs. xia broke through your thoughts, and you look up at her worried eyes.

"i, uh, am okay. sorry for spacing out..."

she gives you a warm, motherly smile. "oh, don't worry bub, you must still be in a little shock. how about we all go upstairs, where it's more warmer, hm?"

you nodded in reply, returning her smile.

when you reached upstairs, you watched how caleb flopped himself down the recliner to prop the seat up, before reaching into the pocket of his bottoms and proceeding to text again, seemingly at lightning speed. mrs. xia made her way over to the sofa, and so you decided to settle yourself down across from her.

"well then," the mother spoke up, her eyes holding yours. "i spoke to your mum, and... we've agreed that you should stay here until the blizzard passes." you visibly stiffened, eyes automatically glued on the floor as a sudden rush of heat coursed through you despite the weather. "the roads are in no state to be driven on, and the way how things are looking, you'll probably be safe and sound in your bed by tomorrow night."

what a relief. you released the breath you didn't realize you've been holding in. if you could just keep your way out of zayne and caleb, then everything should work out just fine. no awkward conversations, nothing alike, and no one will find out about the wrapped gift you're sitting on right now.

"thank you, mrs. xia. you're very kind, i really appreciate it,"

"oh please, it's absolutely no trouble at all!" mrs. xia waved it off nonchalantly, "your parents are an old colleague of mine, and you're an absolute angel yourself, my dear. and ever so pretty, might i say."

you blushed, cheeks going warm, "thank you, mrs. xia, you really are too kind."

"now what's the time, i wonder?" she mused brightly, sauntering towards the kitchen side of the room.

"three o'clock." caleb suddenly voiced out from his position on the recliner, his eyes flicking to you, but quickly averting his gaze back to his phone when he caught your eye.

mrs. xia wiped her hands on her trousers, before leaning against the breakfast bar. "right, well dinner should be ready in about an hour, but first i think we should discuss [name]'s sleeping arrangements," she announced, her voice sounding like she was talking to herself more than anything.

"she can sleep in my room," caleb blurted suddenly, looking slightly bashful despite his easygoing nature. "i can sleep in'ere, on the sofa, i don't mind."

oh my gosh.

caleb just offered me his room! which means... i'll get to sleep in his room, i'll get to see his room, i'll be lying down on his bed in his room.

fate just keeps on surprising you today, huh?

caleb's room was near exactly what you had imagined.

dark green walls complimented a neutral soft carpet, with plain wooden furniture balancing out everything so nicely. there were a few posters on the wall, of various basketball players and teams, along with the odd photograph or two of caleb with his family and friends. there were a few golden medals, their ribbons strung around some old nails lined up in a row against the wall.

you've always known, that caleb is a natural-born athlete.

glancing down at the present that rested snugly in your palm, you sighed, placing it carefully onto the desk beside you. so much drama, all over one tiny little gift.

suddenly, a gentle knock on the door sounded, startling you. your head snapped towards the door, but it remained silent and still for like 10 seconds. narrowing your eyes at it, you turn your gaze away.

were you starting to hear things?

"hey, new tenant?" the muffled voice of caleb sounded through the door, and you instinctively widened your eyes. also, what kind of nickname was that? "can i come in, please?"

"um, yep!" you shouted back in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. quickly, you lunged for the present which was sitting on caleb's desk, concealing it in the first place you could find—which was behind the desk. it was a bit of a tight squeeze lodging it there, but miraculously, you managed to squeeze it in before the door creaked open with a groan.

caleb's head popped around the door, his face visibly relaxing once he caught sight of your figure. then, he steps in, a little hesitant, holding something in his hand. he held up the item, and it appears to be some sort of clothing. "mum told me to give you this, since you don't have pajamas."

"oh, thank you..." you replied, trying a soft smile. slowly, you accept the clothing from his hands, and you could feel the way your fingers brushed for a split-second. it made you warm.

"it's no problem. anything for a pretty girl like you." you stood in shock for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed at the boy standing right infront of you. it took a few more moments before caleb realized the nature of his words, and when he did, his ears turn red. clearing his throat, he brings up something else, "cough, need help setting up the bed?"

he was already at the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled past his forearms, the faint scent of vanilla and warm bread still clinging to him like a ghost.

you nodded before your brain could catch up. the bed creaked softly as the two of you worked in silence, tucking in corners, fluffing the pillowcases. and for a while, it felt almost so oddly domestic.

but then, as you smoothed your palm over the top sheet, his hand stilled. his eyes were on you. "uh... hold still for a sec," he murmured, stepping toward you.

you blinked, unsure. "yes?"

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he closed the distance in slow, deliberate strides. and then, without warning, his fingers reached up, calloused and careful, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek.

"spaghetti," he muttered, almost amused. "bolognese. right here." a quiet laugh left him, soft and stunned, like he hadn’t expected it either.

instantly, you turned beet red. not just from the proximity, not just from the way caleb was so close that you could start counting his lashes from this distance, but because you've revealed a rather unpleasant side of yourself to him. the spaghetti bolognese his mother had cooked for dinner earlier satisfied your taste buds so well that you hadn't noticed it smearing on your cheek.

his thumb hovered, not quite done. then, his gaze dropped. first to your eyes. then lower... to your lips.

and for a second, just a breath, he didn't move.

but then, he blinked, stepping back. the warmth snapped away with him. "there," caleb said, though his ears were tinged pink again. "you’re good."

he turned back to the bed, adjusting the edge of the blanket like it suddenly needed fixing. like he hadn’t just looked at you like that.

you stayed still after he stepped back, eyes trained on the bed like it might offer some kind of guidance. your cheek still tingled a little where his thumb had brushed, and you could feel the heat lingering there.

he cleared his throat. "sorry, by the way. i didn’t mean to, like, get in your space.”

you shook your head quickly, looking up at him. “no, it’s okay. i didn’t notice it was there.”

he let out a short breath. “guess that’s what happens when you really go in on pasta, huh.”

you laughed under your breath, a little embarrassed. “it was good, okay? i wasn’t thinking about my face.”

“really?” he says in a sing-song voice, "next time y'should try my cooking."

you both stood there for a second, the quiet kind of hovering. caleb shifted his weight onto one foot, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

“well,” he said, glancing at the bed, “this should be fine for you, i think. the heater’s already on so you won’t freeze.”

“looks good,” you said. “thank you.”

his eyes flicked toward the pajamas still folded in your arms. “those might be a little big, just saying.” ugh, when will he leave so i can release this jittery feeling i've been holding back ever since he came in here? i already want to roll around the bed and squeal!

“i’ll survive.” you manage.

he nodded. his hand hovered near the doorknob, but he didn’t open it just yet. “alright. i’ll, uh, leave you alone now. let you get settled.”

“mhm, okay.”

“cool. night.”

“night.”

and then he was gone. the door clicked shut, the sound quiet against the hush of the snowstorm outside. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, then looked down at the pajamas in your hands.

and then you flopped. face-first onto the bed. a full-body, limbs-splayed-out, dramatic flop. a squeal escaped before you could stop it, muffled by the sheets.

"what just happened," you whispered into the blanket, voice high and panicked in the most ridiculous way. "what just happened."

you kicked your feet a little. rolled onto your back. then onto your side. then back again.

you had talked to caleb. you had brushed hands. he wiped food off your face. he looked at you. and he called you pretty. like, casually! like it was nothing. like your heart wasn’t going to launch itself out of your chest.

you groaned, throwing a pillow over your face. this was not how you expected your evening to go when you walked across their bakery holding the gift.

and now you were in his room, with a blizzard locking you in for the night. "i’m gonna die," you muttered to the ceiling.

but you were smiling. so much it kind of hurt.

3 hours.

you laid there, flat on your back, eyes dry from staring too long at the same stupid spot on the ceiling. the room had long gone quiet, no more creaking footsteps outside, no muffled laughter from mrs. xia and her husband. even your phone screen was starting to burn your retinas, the endless doomscrolling doing absolutely nothing to help.

you sighed and flipped to your side again for what had to be the hundredth time.

the blanket was warm. the pillows were soft. the bed even smelled like vanilla and something familiar and safe. but none of it mattered. because one very important thing was missing.

your plushie.

your stupid, irreplaceable, well-loved plushie that you had dragged around since you were ten. the one with the slightly lopsided button eye and the torn little ear you never quite got around to sewing back on. the one thing that could ever get your body to relax enough to actually sleep.

you groaned, shoving your face into the pillow. how were you supposed to survive the night without it? your arms felt weird. your chest felt cold. everything just felt… off.

you opened your eyes, staring blankly into the dark. there was no way you were going to sleep tonight. not unless you found a way to hug something.

maybe you could steal a pillow from the hallway?

…or, god forbid—ask caleb if he had a spare?

nope. absolutely not. you would rather freeze. you rolled onto your back again, sighing deeply. “this is so dumb,” you whispered to the ceiling.

it didn't take you long enough before you find yourself standing, your toes barely making a sound against the carpet while you crept out of the room, pajamas just a bit too long, sleeves brushing past your fingers. the hallway was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow spilling in from the living room.

you told yourself it was just for water. just something to sip so you could trick your body into thinking it was okay to rest. nothing more.

but just as you turned the corner, there he was.

caleb. curled up sideways on the sofa, legs hanging off the armrest like he’d melted into it, his phone casting a cool glow across his face. he looked cozy. a little sleepy, but still very much awake.

and he saw you immediately. your eyes locked like it was choreographed.

you froze.

so did he.

for a second, neither of you said a word, just two stunned statues in the quiet of midnight. ��…can’t sleep?” he finally asked, voice husky and rough with tiredness, but not unfriendly.

you blinked. your fingers gripped the hem of the oversized top. “not really,” you admitted. “uh. was gonna get some water.”

he sat up slowly, the phone slipping onto his chest. “kitchen’s free.”

you nodded, but didn’t move yet. then he tilted his head, eyes scanning your face like he already knew something was up. “you okay?”

you hesitated. should you lie? brush it off? make some excuse? or maybe, just maybe, you could admit the truth. the ridiculous, embarrassing truth. your lips parted, unsure. “…okay, yeah, i can't sleep. not without my pillow.” your plushie, actually.

his mouth quirked, but not in a mocking way. “really?”

“yeah. laugh all you want.”

“i’m not laughing.” he stretched his arms over his head, then let them fall onto his lap with a sigh. “kinda cute, honestly.”

your face warmed. “don’t call it that.”

“but it is.”

you clicked your tongue and started walking toward the kitchen just to escape the way his gaze felt on you. “i’m just gonna get that water now, thanks.”

you heard him chuckle as you stood by the sink, cold glass in hand, the sound of water trickling in almost louder than your heartbeat. everything felt surreal. you used to just watch him from the far end of classrooms, pretending not to look. used to catch glimpses of him laughing with his friends and wonder what it would be like to be that close.

and now? now you were here. in his house. talking to him. because of a stupid snowstorm.

you tightened your grip on the glass, grounding yourself. you took a quiet sip, trying to calm the storm inside for once.

then you felt a shift beside you. a soft presence. the quiet scrape of socked feet on tile.

caleb, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, the glow from the overhead light catching in the warm violet of his eyes. “the rest are already fast asleep,” he murmured, voice low like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet.

you glanced up at him. and god. why did he have to look that good under sleepy kitchen lighting?

he wasn’t even doing anything, just standing there in sweatpants and that loose black shirt, like he’d stepped out of a dream you forgot you were having.

your eyes lingered a second too long, before he noticed. his brow arched slightly, amused.

you quickly looked away, down at your glass like it suddenly held the secrets of the universe. “right. yeah,” you said, voice tight and awkward. you looked down at the rim of your glass, fingers tracing along the condensation, anything to keep from meeting his eyes again.

then, quietly, almost sheepishly, you asked, “do you feel okay sleeping on the sofa? sorry for having to take your bed away…” your voice barely carried over the hum of the fridge.

for a moment, caleb didn’t respond. you glanced up, and he was already looking at you. that same soft, unreadable expression on his face. then he shrugged a shoulder, lips tugging into a small smile.

“it’s not a big deal.”

“still. you didn’t have to.”

he scoffed gently, amused. “what, should i let you sleep on the couch while it’s practically snowing knives out there? nah. not happening.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile too obviously.

he leaned his elbow on the counter, his body angled toward you now, casual, but his gaze still settled on your features like you were something he couldn’t quite figure out. “besides,” he added, quieter this time, “if it means you’re here… i think i’m okay with it.”

your heart stuttered. you blinked. “...what?”

he looked down, like he couldn’t believe he said that either, brushing a hand through his hair. “i mean, like, i don’t mind. i like... talking to you. and stuff.” his voice was flustered now, the same one you heard when he complimented you earlier, and you knew that your face was fully red again.

you set the glass down carefully, pulse loud in your ears. “i… like talking to you too,” you mumbled, so quietly it was barely audible.

but he heard it. and he smiled again, looking away, like really tilting his head away from your direction. “aaalright,” he sings, stepping back from the counter with a stretch, “since neither of us is sleeping anytime soon… wanna play something?”

you raised a brow, a little wary. “play what?”

he shot you a look like you’d just challenged him. “cards. i’ve got a deck in the drawer. loser has to pick truth or dare.”

“truth or dare? seriously?”

“hey,” caleb said, already moving toward the living room, that smug little smirk growing, “don’t act like you’re not curious. or scared.”

you scoffed, setting your glass down and following him. “i’m not scared.”

“uh-huh,” he called over his shoulder, crouching near the TV stand to rummage through a drawer. “we’ll see how brave you are when i ask if you’ve ever had a crush on someone in this house.”

you choked a little. “that’s—”

he turned, waving the deck at you with a grin. “then don’t lose.”

and with that, caleb plopped down onto the carpet by the coffee table, legs crossed, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. the snow outside still raged on quietly, blanketing the world, but inside, the only storm was the one building between your shared glances and half-laughs.

you sat on the carpet as well, across from him, heart thudding in anticipation. “ready to lose?” he teased, shuffling the cards.

but when you actually started to play now, caleb was the first one to lose. you tried not to gloat, but your grin said it all.

he rolled his eyes with a lazy smirk, leaning back on his palms. “alright, alright. truth.”

you tapped your chin, pretending to think. but really, the question had already been burning in your chest, because this was a golden opportunity! you leaned forward slightly, voice a little too soft. “what do you think of me?” alright. yeah. it was a cheesy question, but what else can i ask?

he didn’t flinch, nor did he shy away. caleb just looked at you, straight on. “i think you’re cute.”

you malfunctioned. why is he so blunt?

he went on, calm, unbothered. “fun to talk to. smart. a little chaotic, in a good way. definitely my... type.” your brain stalled. but caleb just shrugged like he just told you the weather. “why?”

you opened your mouth, closed it again. “i—um. nothing. no reason.”

he gave you a little smirk, already reshuffling the cards. “you asked. don’t get shy now.”

you stared at him, fully malfunctioning while he just dealt the next hand like he didn’t just flip your entire world upside down in five seconds flat.

"hey, continue playin now." he called over, but caleb lost again. you had to stifle your laughter, but there was a spark of excitement inside you. it was like luck had completely turned your way tonight after all the previous events.

"seriously?" caleb squinted, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. "again?"

"looks like it,"

he sighed dramatically, as if he were going to quit the game, but then perked up. "fine, dare me."

you hesitated for a second. part of you wanted to go big, do something wild, but then you remembered just how much chaos he'd already caused. instead, you decided to play it safe. "pinch yourself," you said, trying to keep a straight face.

caleb blinked, eyes widening for a split second as he processed the request. then, he gave you a flat look. "that's it?"

"yep."

he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with that trademark smirk. "aw, disappointing," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "kinda expected you to..."

you blinked, your heart pounding a little faster as his gaze lingered on you. "to what?"

"nuthin', nuthin'," he said, waving it off with a small shrug. he then proceeded to pinch his own arm, and you couldn’t help but watch as he did it.

the next round, you actually lost now.

caleb's grin was wide as ever, but then, as you looked at him, you noticed something shift. for a split second, his expression faltered just for a moment, but it was enough to make you wonder what was going through his mind. it was almost like he was thinking about something different.

he cleared his throat quickly, wiping that flicker of uncertainty away, and leaned back in his chair with that same smug look. "looks like you lost. truth or dare?"

you didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. "dare," you said, hoping you'd make it through this round without too much embarrassment.

caleb’s gaze locked onto yours. there was something in his eyes now, something that made you feel a little unsteady. his usual playful teasing was still there, but now it felt sharper, like he was testing you.

after a long, deliberate pause, he finally spoke, his voice a whisper. "kiss me."

your heart stopped. time seemed to freeze for a moment, and your eyes widened as you stared at him in complete shock. did he really just say that? your mind raced, trying to catch up. there was no way he could be serious, right?

but caleb didn’t move, his gaze was still intense, waiting for your response, keeping the ball at your court.

you felt heat flood your face, your stomach flipping in a way that made you feel like you might combust. your breath caught in your throat. what do i even do? “w-what?” you stammered, trying to keep your cool.

"what?," he repeated sardonically, voice calm but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "it’s a dare, ain't it? nuthin' serious. unless you want it to be?"

you were frozen, the tension thick in the air. caleb’s gaze hadn’t softened, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was messing with you. or was he actually being serious? you swallowed hard once more, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind was a whirl of confusion, embarrassment, and... something else. something like desire.

but you couldn't back out now. not in front of him. so slowly, you crawled to him, and as you drawled closer, your heartbeat pounded in your ears, each one louder than the last. you barely even realized your hands were trembling.

as you reached him, your face inches from his, you could feel the heat from his body. caleb's eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, and for just a moment, everything felt unbearably charged.

then, as if to break the tension, he cracked a grin and leaned back just slightly. "hey, you really don’t have to. just a dare, remember?"

you blinked, your mind still reeling. your heart was still racing. "this isn’t funny," you muttered, pulling away quickly.

caleb chuckled softly, clearly amused by the whole situation, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. “sorry, sorry,” he said, the teasing tone still there, "go on now."

you didn't think. you just did it.

your heart pounded as you leaned in, closing the distance, and pressing your lips against his, just a quick peck. nothing too intense. just a soft, fleeting touch.

but caleb... caleb twitched. his whole body stilled for a second, like he'd been struck dumb. his eyes widened just a fraction, and for the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was something raw flickering in his gaze.

you pulled away quickly, your breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly tried to turn away, heart still racing. what the hell did i just do?

but then, caleb didn’t look the way you expected. he didn’t laugh, nor did he make an attempt to tease. no, his gaze was fixed on you, intense and unblinking. his lips parted slightly as he looked at you like he was waiting for something.

there was a brief silence, and then, with a shift in his tone, he asked, "am i allowed to have a follow-up dare?"

you blinked, caught off guard. "huh?"

caleb didn’t smile this time, his eyes softening just a little, as if something unspoken passed between you two. "yeah." his gaze lingered on your lips for a moment, and you could feel the weight of it, “kiss. not just a peck.”

you froze.

“come on,” he said, his voice practically dripping with that same confident teasing. but it was different now. there was a quiet longing beneath the playfulness. “just a kiss. no big deal. it’s just a dare, right?”

your mind went blank. this is not just a dare. he’s... he’s serious.

you swallowed hard, your palms starting to sweat. the room felt smaller. everything felt louder; the way his heart beat, the way your pulse raced, the sound of your breath mixing in the silence between you two.

and then, just like that, with no further hesitation, caleb closed the distance between you again, leaning in as his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation.

you didn’t stop him. the kiss was different this time. deeper, slower. there was no teasing now, it was just the two of you, caught in a moment that neither of you had really expected, but neither of you could seem to pull away from.

when you finally broke away, both of you were breathing heavily. caleb’s fingers curled tightly at his sides, like he was trying to restrain himself from doing something impulsive. his body was completely tense, and his eyes avoided yours for a brief moment, focusing on the space between you two.

he exhaled, the sound of his breath almost imperceptible, and then his gaze flicked back to you. his voice was quieter now, a little more controlled, as he whispered, “you should go and sleep now, gettin kinda late..”

"yeah… good night,” you whispered back, pulling away and standing up to settle back into his bedroom down the hallway.

before you could even take that step away, caleb was already on his feet. his hand caught your wrist swiftly, and then his other hand found the side of your face. there was no pause, no breath between. he instantly kissed you. "mmn—"

your eyes fluttered shut, body frozen in shock before melting into the sudden heat of it all. his lips pressed against yours like he was trying to make up for every second he didn’t. like he didn’t want to stop. and he didn’t.

instead, he broke the kiss only for a heartbeat, his forehead resting against yours, breath ghosting your lips. “come with me,” he whispered, voice husky.

you barely nodded, barely processed it, before he was gently tugging your hand, leading you back toward his bedroom in silence. it was sudden. so fast you didn’t even get to question it. the moonlight through the windows washed softly over the both of you as you stepped in.

the moment the door clicked shut behind, the world seemed to fall away. caleb’s lips were back on yours before you could even think to process what was happening, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer.

he kissed you with a hunger that took you by surprise, each kiss deeper, more urgent than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. his hands roamed to your back, to your hips, to your waist, tugging you toward him until there was no space left between your bodies.

the kiss wasn’t soft anymore, it was messy, passionate, as if he was trying to savor every second, devour every inch of you. your mind was a whirlwind, overwhelmed with sensations, but your body responded before you could even stop it, your hands coming up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, if that was even possible.

his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss even more, and for a moment, you forgot everything else. the snowstorm outside, the awkwardness, the game, everything was gone.

caleb’s lips trailed from your mouth, leaving a trail of warmth as they moved down to your neck. the sensation of his kiss against your skin made your breath hitch, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped you.

his lips paused just below your ear, and he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your neck. "shhh," he whispered, his voice low and almost possessive. "wouldn't want them to hear you now, do you?"

without breaking the gaze, he pushes you onto the bed, his body following as he hovered over you. his hands framed your face, as if making sure you had nowhere to look but him.

he watched you carefully, breath a little heavier now, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. your face was flushed, lips slightly parted, and for a second, he just studied you, making sure he didn’t move too quickly.

“tell me if you wanna stop,” caleb murmured, his voice softer than before, but still full of that same heat. he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours, a quiet gesture of reassurance amidst the tension. “i won’t push you, okay?”

"it's okay, keep going.."

caleb's eyes narrowed with desire as he heard your breathless consent. a slow, small smile spread across his handsome face, his dimples flashing in the moonlight. "mkay," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

he leaned down, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck once more. you gasped as he began to trail kisses along your jawline, his mouth hot and insistent against your flesh. his teeth grazed your skin, nipping and biting gently as he made his way down to your collarbone.

your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping the soft locks as you arched your back slightly, giving him better access to your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips as he suckled on your pulse point, no doubt leaving a mark of his possession.

you couldn't believe it, from a snowstorm to a make out session with your crush. you couldn't believe it. but you wanted to keep on going, despite your lack of experience.

caleb's hands roamed your curves, his fingers splaying across your ribcage before sliding down to your hips. he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your bottoms, tugging on them slightly as he continued his sensual assault on your neck and chest.

while he kissed lower, his tongue flicked out to taste the soft swell of your breasts, his teeth catching on the lace of your bra. he looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger that made your core throb with need. without breaking eye contact, he reached behind you and unhooked your bra with deft fingers, tossing it aside carelessly.

your breasts spilled free, and caleb's mouth was on them in an instant. he laved his tongue over one hardened nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling greedily. his other hand came up to knead the soft mound of your breast, his fingers sinking into the pliant flesh.

he's doing it all so quickly and effortlessly like he'd been practicing.

then, he worked his way down your body, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of your stomach, his tongue dipping into your belly button. he paused when he reached the waistband of your shackles, looking up at you with a teasing grin.

"lift your hips for me," he commanded, and you complied, lifting your hips off the bed as he tugged your undergarments and slid them off your ankles.

he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you laid out bare before him, his eyes roaming hungrily over your naked form.

"shit, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice filled with awe and desire. his hand came down to rest on your inner thigh, his thumb brushing maddeningly close to your aching core.

unable to resist any longer, caleb leaned in and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your thigh, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he worked his way further slowly, your breath hitching and your back arching off the bed as he drew closer and closer to your dripping center.

without warning, he pressed a kiss directly to your clit, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure. "caleb—" his tongue circled the sensitive bundle of nerves before he drew it into his mouth, suckling hard. your hands flew to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as your hips bucked up against his face.

while he licked and suckled your clit, caleb's hand came up to tease your entrance. "you're wet," he ran a finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his digit. unable to hold back any longer, he says, "i'm gunna put it in, okay?" he pushes a finger inside your tight channel, grunting against your clit as he felt your walls clench around the intrusion.

he began to pump his finger in and out, his pace slow and steady. at the same time, caleb pulls away to bring his other hand down to his own aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the thick shaft. he grunted as he began to stroke himself simultaneously with the thrusts of his finger.

"can you look at me?" he moaned, staring down at you with a feverish gaze, you could see the beads of sweat trickling down his collarbone. he sweats so easily. he added a second finger the moment your eyes meet, pumping them in and out of your dripping cunt faster with increasing fervor.

his thumb rubbed firm circles over your clit, the rough pad of his finger stimulating the sensitive nub with each pass. "ahh, fuck!" you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow as the intensity of your pleasure mounted. your hips bucked and writhed beneath his touch, seeking more of the delicious friction.

"quiet," caleb hissed, but nonetheless too spurred on by your enthusiastic responses that he doubles his efforts. his hand flew over his aching cock, stroking the thick shaft with fast, tight pumps. the lewd sound of squelching noises filled the room as he jerked himself off, growing louder and more urgent with each passing second. beads of pre-cum leaked from the swollen head, dripping down to coat his pumping fist.

"oh god, caleb..." you cried out again, your voice breaking as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. your inner walls fluttered and clenched around his pistoning fingers, gripping them like a vice.

acting quickly, he brought his free hand up to cover your mouth, "you're gunna wake the house up," his palm muffling any sound that threatened to escape from you, then simultaneously, he slams his throbbing cock deep into your spasming pussy with one powerful thrust.

"mmph!" your scream of ecstasy was reduced to a strangled moan against his hand as caleb's thick shaft stretched and filled you in an instant, reaching depths you'd never felt before. your slick walls, still fluttering from your climax, clenched down around him like a hot, velvety vise.

"fuck!" caleb hissed through gritted teeth despite himself, his eyes squeezing shut at the sudden, exquisite sensations of your tight, dripping cunt gripping his cock. he stilled for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the intense sensation of being so utterly filled and connected.

his hips pressed firmly against yours, the coarse hair at the base of his shaft tickling your sensitive skin. his chest heaved against your own as he struggled to maintain control, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"jesus christ you're tight," caleb breathed, his lips brushing against your ear. "we don't wanna alert the whole house to what we're doing. so..." caleb began to move, "keep quiet, alright?"

yeah, you're totally gonna keep quiet about how three days before christmas your plan of giving your crush an anonymous gift during a snowstorm led you to having sex with him in his bedroom. absolutely. you're going to keep quiet about how you used to just observe caleb playing basketball from the bleachers and now you're watching him tease his dick into your hole. those irises that only used to meet your gaze in hallways, now eyed you down while he rubbed his tip against your womb.

"mmh...!" you continued whining. how couldn't you? he stretched you out so perfectly, and he looks so hot doing it.

"i told you to keep quiet, right?" caleb pressed his hand on your lips even more harder. "right?"

yeah, you're gonna keep quiet about this.

#lnds #love and deepspace #lnds x reader #love and deepspace caleb #lads headcanon #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb xia #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb #caleb x y/n #caleb x non!mc reader #caleb smut #caleb fic

357 notes · View notes