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lunasfics · 2 years ago

Text

Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 8.2k

preview

a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)

reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it?

“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back.

“Good. Nightwing?”

“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent.

“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for.

“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom.

“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.”

Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”

“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.”

Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”

He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read:

Attempt 1: G6B24

Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)

Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown)

Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision

‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass.

“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did.

Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.

His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick.

“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind.

“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.

Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him.

“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you.

The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.

You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file.

“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.

You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.

“Batman?”

Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.

Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.”

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?”

Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised.

"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.

He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."

You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected.

When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.

They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”

“What’s going o-”

He hung up.

Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’”

Damian covered his laugh with a cough.

You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on.

Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.”

Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave.

Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.

You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.

He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?”

“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry.

Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?”

You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.”

He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”

You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.

Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well.

Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.”

You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different.

Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first.

“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile.

You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?

“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.”

Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.”

At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you?

Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.

Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state.

You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.

“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”

Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.”

You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile.

“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.”

“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.”

Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.”

“Wayne.”

He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”

“Wayne.”

This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”

The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares.

Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”

“No.” came their simultaneous response.

Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.”

Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…”

Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper.

Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”

Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”

Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”

You nodded, “I like it.”

Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose.

Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement.

Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”

Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you.

Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.”

You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain.

“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.”

“They’re fine…Thank you.”

He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.”

You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change.

You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over.

Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner

You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you.

You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase.

Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first.

Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.”

“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.

He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.”

You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own.

“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.

His eyes widened, was that why you were there?

“How?”

All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first.

“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.”

Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”

“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.”

Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.”

Bruce simply gave a nod.

Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all.

Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian.

Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe.

She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest.

Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”

“Hi!” he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you.

“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.

Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”

You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”

“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.”

Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?”

He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”

“Sounds about right.”

Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own.

The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.

The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.

Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.”

“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.

The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her.

“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.

“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.”

You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey.

Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.”

You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.”

Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.

Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front.

“This better be good.”

Tim mumbled, “Finally”

“Miss me Timmy?”

“Quite the contrary.”

The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away.

His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce.

“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.”

Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.”

“Holy shit, man.”

“Jason, will you shut up?”

“Never.”

“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.”

“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.”

“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.”

“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.”

“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.”

Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you.

“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her.

“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit.

“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-”

Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled.

Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.”

“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.”

Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone.

Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.”

“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied.

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.”

“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.”

Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.”

“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do.

“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.

“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered.

“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.”

“I want time with her, Bruce.”

“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.”

Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer.

Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?”

You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”

She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”

You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Clark gave you a fond smile.

Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless.

The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face.

“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.”

You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away.

It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?”

You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.”

He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”

“I suppose so.”

“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.”

“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–”

“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news.

Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him.

A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated.

You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done.

Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.”

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.”

“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”

Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”

Cass nodded in agreement.

“We’re just buying training clothes.”

“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.”

You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.”

“See?”

Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”

Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site.

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.

Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that.

You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself.

The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.

He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself.

He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about.

The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings.

By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.

The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere.

When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off.

The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.

As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.”

You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.”

He nodded, walking away to change as well.

You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill.

“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see it.”

You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.

Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.

Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”

He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

You nodded. Made sense.

“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.”

You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.

Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”

You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing.

This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine.

Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite.

You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.

He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit.

And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying.

“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction.

You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.”

You nodded, “How are we doing that?”

He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?”

You nodded.

“Okay… and…. Go!”

You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds.

“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you.

You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner.

They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking.

That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case.

They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor.

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother.

Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in.

Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there.

You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.

Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough.

Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.

Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled.

You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.

Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.

Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.

True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.

Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal.

You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.

Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it.

You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.

Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’

Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine.

Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.

These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.

These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.

And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.

You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow. Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)

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wintaerbaer · 1 year ago

Text

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.”

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso.

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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nerdsnuff · 4 months ago

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KEI TSUKISHIMA BOYFRIEND HCS. gender neutral reader, fluff, no warnings.

icl i had fun with this also fun fact i wrote this before my drabble (which i linked in here LOL that one pointer was so good i had to write a whole moment for it) THIS IS AN OLD DRAFT

☽ SLOWBURN KING. it WILL take awhile for you to date him. but that’s okay, just don’t give up on him trust. will definitely deny his feelings for you… but he doesn’t mean it one bit! he just has a difficult time showing affection and being vulnerable at first. treat him nice even if he’s mean to you! seems unfair, sure, but honestly if you snap back he’ll learn where his place is. sooo don’t be too much of a pushover! he just likes getting under your skin cause he thinks it’s fun.

☽ a good way to woo him is to flatter him. yup! absolutely he’ll tell you to shut up when you compliment him, but his face gets all blushy, heheh. (you should make fun of him)

tsukishima blinks as he hears a compliment fall from your lips, telling him how cool and impressive he is, and how you can really see he’s getting super good! he clicks his tongue and looks away. “shut up” is all he can muster in a weak tone. even if you can’t see his face the tips of his ears are bright pink, making his embarrassment clear as day.

☽ yamaguchi is the best wingman and your guys’ biggest supporter! he knows tsukishima has feelings for you and would keep nagging him about it (much to his dismay)

☽ you’d most likely have to be the one to confess. going to yamaguchi for help is just a natural process honestly (GIGGLES)

he laughs a little as you clasp your hands together, begging him to PLEASE tell you how to actually attract this annoyingly hot blonde. “hey,” he starts, voice soft. “he already likes you, y’know? sorry to spoil that but—i just wanted to assure you! so whatever you do… and however you say it, it’d be good in his book, i’m sure!” he says this nervously, yet simultaneously remaining confident in his own words of advice.

☽ once you date it may take a bit to fully melt the ice. as i said, slowburn king. yes even until the beginning of the relationship. but don’t worry, he likes you so much. his pale skin is always pink around you! if you ever doubt it, the best thing to do is have a serious talk with him about it, it’ll help him lower his walls.

☽ loves you a lot but shows it discreetly… holding fingertips, showing you random songs (cause they remind him of you), teasingly ruffling your hair, sharing stuff with you, etc.

☽ always smiles when talking to you. he only smiles around a very specific group of people and it’s also rare sight, but you always make him smile very often and very bright.

☽ of course he’ll share his headphones with you. and you know how it is, HEADPHONES OFF AROUND YOU! he’ll listen to everything you say.

☽ he gets his romantic advice from love songs. so he may be stupid sometimes in the romantic department.

☽ would love music recs from you. he might be picky with the genre, but has the will to try anything, no matter how heavy or slow. (…or bad)

“what the fuck is this?” he asks, a disgusted look on his face as you hold your stomach, dying from laughter. “‘my name is david’? these are the shittiest lyrics i’ve ever heard in my life turn this off” he says, scrabbling for your phone on the edge of the bed.

☽ MATCHING THINGS!!!! oh he looves that. the day he suddenly buys you matching charms you shat yourself a little. cause though he wont admit it, he likes enjoying and understanding the same things as the people he cares about.

☽ lowkey has trust issues sometimes, it’s not too big but it’s best to show him just how much you really can be counted on! DON’T EVER BREAK HIS TRUST. lying is a BIG NO. seriously…

☽ don’t judge him for his past when he tells it to you… dont downplay it, hed be upset. he knows it’s not too much of a big deal, but still, feeling betrayed by your idol feels tough, y’know?

☽ acts like he doesn’t wanna do shit but he does. he just has this stupid cool guy act. but once you get under that he’s a cutiepie

#📼 awesome mix vol. 1 #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x reader #hq x gender neutral reader #hq x you #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #i had to reference the mimic song im sorry its so FUNNY

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noctiva · 5 months ago

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Intro ♡

hi, you can call me mads!

I’m an author who likes to write nasty things so be warned of that before you start browsing my blog lmao

I’m 22, love love loooooove creepypasta, and have an unhealthy obsession with toby rogers. He’s my boyfriend (REAL!!!). Because of that, most of my writing is about him lolssss but if I’m feeling freaky I may dabble in the other creeps

I write like 97% NSFW so if u are a minor pls turn back these are not the droids you’re looking for

long story short, I’m extremely self-indulgent and just write things bc I wanna place toby in as many different scenarios as possible. He’s my muse fr.

I am down for requests though! My ask box is always open o(｀ω´ )o [DISCLAIMER!! I am very slow when it comes to requests! be patient with me lols <3]

Requests are open again!

Commissions are closed!

Things I’ve written! (TBA)

Toby Rogers

General Headcanons

Relationship Headcanons

Playlist

NSFW Alphabet

Flesh + Blood - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader (wc: 10.1k)

Pincushion - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader (wc: 6.7k)

Sweet Thing - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader

Part One (wc: 10.2k)

Part Two (wc: 24.4k)

Under Your Skin - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader (wc: 4.1k)

A Change Of Heart - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader (wc: 6.5k)

Clouded By The Smoke - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader (wc: 5.4k)

Part Two/Epilogue (wc: 3.4k)

Behind Closed Doors - [NSFW!] Toby Rogers x F!Reader (wc: 12.8k)

Mini Fic - Drummer!Toby x Groupie!Reader [NSFW!] - (wc: 3.02k)

Requests!

Toby Rogers x GN!Reader w/ OCD and intrusive thoughts

Catharsis (wc: 2.5k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - Sleepy head turns him into a whimpering mess

A Little R & R (wc: 6.3k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - Toby with an intox kink gets his girl all messy and needy for him

Dilation (wc: 7.6k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - Toby and reader meet at a concert and get freaky in the bathroom

The Afterparty (wc: 9.7k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - Toby reallyyyy misses his girl after a long mission, so he makes sure to let her know

Nectar (wc: 7.1k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - A really heated argument leads to angry sex in the woods lol

Unbearable (wc: 8.4k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - Reader thinks it’s really hot when Toby smokes. Toby indulges her.

Inhale, Exhale (wc: 7.3k)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!] - They got a breeding kink. Need I say more.

Fulfillment (6.5k)

Headcanons!

Yandere!Toby Rogers Headcanons

Vampire!Toby Rogers Headcanons

Bully!Toby Rogers Headcanons

PuppyHybrid!Toby Rogers Headcanons

Toby Rogers NSFW Headcanons - Masturbation

Toby Rogers NSFW Headcanons - Giving + Recieving a Blowjob

Toby Rogers x Vampire!Reader Headcanons

Toby Rogers - Kissing Headcanons

Commissions!

Toby Rogers x Proxy!Reader - Hatefuck in a forest lol

Training Day (wc: 6.7k)

Toby Rogers x Proxy!Reader - Little fight for dominance leads to getting overstimulated as hell

Stress Relief (wc: 6.7k)

Eyeless Jack

General Headcanons

Playlist

Drawing Pins - [NSFW!] Eyeless Jack x F!Reader (wc: 8.0k)

Headcanons!

Eyeless Jack NSFW Headcanons - Masturbation

Eyeless Jack NSFW Headcanons - Giving + Receiving a Blowjob

X-Virus

Seeking An Immediate Response - [NSFW!] X-Virus x F!Reader (wc: 17.4k)

Drabbles

Everything here can be found under the tag #noctiva yaps!

Newer rants/drabbles can all be found under this masterlist!

—————

How would Toby react to a reader with a sensitive gag reflex? [NSFW]

Toby with a hyperfem gf [NSFW]

Toby with a more ‘masculine’ gf

How would Toby react to a s/o who loves animals so much that they’re always bringing them home?

The poly!ticcijack saga: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. [NSFW]

What would happen if Jack stole Toby’s girlfriend?

How would Toby react if his s/o brought home a kitten?

Puppyhybrid!Toby x Puppyhybrid!Reader [NSFW]

Toby with a chubby gf [NSFW]

Toby’s jealousy issues

Toby as a dad

Toby’s breeding kink [NSFW]

Bondage with Toby

Toby and Jack fighting over reader [NSFW]

Being Toby’s childhood best friend and making your way onto the proxy’s hitlist

Jack and Toby’s favourite sex positions [NSFW]

Toby’s favourite things to call his s/o

How would Toby and reader get together?

Toby with an unrequited love

What type of video games does Toby play?

How would Toby take care of reader if they’re sick?

Reader is artist!Toby’s muse

Making out with Toby in his truck

How Toby and Jack would give aftercare [NSFW]

Dom Toby + over the knee spanking [NSFW!]

Toby + dry humping [NSFW]

Toby with a trad goth girlfriend!

Toby if reader wears a sundress ;) [NSFW!]

Would Toby let his gf do makeup on him?

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writeonwhiskey · 1 month ago

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lee know drabble (18+)

a/n: my first lee know drabble. i'm working on a longer fic with him as one of the MMC's and have never written him aside from as a background character so, i'm feeling out this version of him. if you enjoy it, please look forward to the upcoming fic. he may or may not be this intense, i'm undecided lol contains: orgasm denial, brat taming, light bondage, vibrator use word count: 492 [ master list ]

Bratty Little Pussy

“You’re awfully quiet now.”

Minho’s voice cuts through the wet buzz between your legs. The vibrator’s been pressed to your clit for five, maybe ten minutes at this point. Long enough for your thighs to shake and your eyes to roll back. Long enough that your pussy is a fucking mess—slick dripping, body straining, hips twitching every time the vibrator hits the perfect spot.

But he won’t let you come.

“You had a lot to say earlier,” he smirks, lying next to you with one arm propping his head up while the other holds the vibrator against you. “All that attitude. Rolling your eyes at me. Sassing me in front of the members.”

He punctuates each sentence by sliding the vibrator up and down your slit and you whimper, hands straining against the silk ties holding them to the headboard. He tied them tight—not painful, but enough to make sure you can’t help yourself.

“I said I was sorry—fuck—please, just let me—”

“Oh, now you wanna be a good girl?” he hums, pressing the vibrator against you harder. Your hips buck wildly, breath catching. He switches it to the next setting, and the vibrations turn brutal.

“Minho—fuck—it’s too much—” you pant, hips bucking.

He tsks. “No. This is exactly what you asked for. Isn’t this what you wanted? To push me until I snapped? To get your bratty little pussy punished?”

You shake your head, tears threatening to well. Your body’s fucking screaming for release, but you know better by now. He’ll take it away if you come without permission and he’ll start all over.

Although that sounds tempting, too, you want your hands freed to touch him.

You slow your breathing and nod, locking eyes with him.

“Then use your words,” he whispers.

The vibrator pulses relentlessly. You whimper, back arching, thighs clenching, pulse hammering in your ears. You’re one spark away from exploding.

“Please,” you choke out. “Please let me come. I need it. I’ve been good—I’ll be good, I swear. Minho, please.”

That finally earns you a smirk. With a soft click the vibrator shuts off. You collapse into the mattress with a sob, panting.

And then, the vibrator is gone. Replaced by his fingers, slow and unforgiving as he dips them into your soaked pussy, curling them just right against your inner walls.

“Oh my god—”

“Shhh,” he purrs, kissing along your cheek. “Now you can come.”

It hits you like a wave. Massive and unstoppable, thighs shaking, back arching as your orgasm crashes through you. You cry out his name, eyes squeezed shut, sobbing from the intensity of it.

He doesn’t stop until you're quivering, until your legs are too weak to move, until your head’s thrown back in absolute surrender.

Then he climbs over you, kisses your temple, and whispers, “Next time you wanna act out, remember how easy it is for me to break you.”

a/n: that was fun. def excited to start writing him along these lines. summer in seoul and act like you love me are so romantic/cutesy smut, so i gotta get back in this headspace for the new fic. i'm also trying to write for more members that i haven't yet. send your drabble/one-shot asks my loves 💜

[ master list ]

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz smut #skz fanfiction #skz drabbles #lee know drabble #lee know smut #lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #minho x you #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho smut #dom!leeknow #lee know imagines #minho imagines

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dwaekkicidal · 1 year ago

Note

Idk if your asks are still open, but I have a recommendation...

Where it's like a poly with two of the members, and they're arguing over which fingers to use on you. (While actively demonstrating)

(Ex. One member is a firm believer of using Pointer/middle finger. While the other prefers middle/ring finger) idk if it makes sense lol

A possible quote "Who the hell told you how to use those fingers"

poly asks have my heart i need MOAR. thank u :3

VocalRacha x Fingering Argument

~500 words | warnings: fem!reader, fingering, (1) pvssy + thigh slap (im sorry i cant help myself), kinda meandom vocalracha, mentions of being tied up

So the first two who really came to mind were Seungmin and Jeongin. And it would SOOO start off as a random argument between them 😭 I won't write a full fic about it for this ask but I'll write a little drabble of sorts

❥ It would happen one of the times you leave them unattended at your apartment. Maybe you had to run out to grab food or wanted to run to the corner store on your own. You're gone for no more than an hour and they still managed to get on the topic of sex and fingering. (probably due to an nsfw meme one of them found/one of the boys found and sent to a group chat)

❥ Bombard you the second you walk in the door. "Jagi, which fingers do you prefer when we fuck you?" & "Puppyyyy~ Tell him I'm right. I know your pussy better than him, right?" Front door wide open and all lol

❥ They argue about it through the whole night until you inevitably get sick of it and just tell them it's all the same. Which, to your dismay, only ends in you in the bedroom with them both between your legs. If you think it's all the same then they feel the need to experiment.

❥ Minnie's most likely gonna be mean to both of you during the whole thing. Starts with a swift "Sit the fuck still or else I'll tie you down." to you and a "Who the fuck taught you that?!? Paboya." to Jeongin

❥ They'd try to do it by taking turns at first. Seungmin lets Jeongin go first and lets him try to "explain" why his way is better but gets fidgety and eventually pulls the other boy's wrist away from you. So Seungmin forces his turn like that and all goes smoothly while he tries to explain his way.

❥ All until Jeongin gets antsy and now they just go back and forth, shoving their fingers deep into your cunt while they bicker back and forth about whose way is better.

❥ They tried to get your opinion on the matter, but after 20+ minutes of them unintentionally edging you and accidentally bullying your G-spot, you're sort of zoned out. A little "fucked dumb" if you will

❥ Jeongin's fingers are still in you when they realize you aren't paying attention and he curves them meanly into your G-spot in an attempt to get your attention. When that doesn't work Seungmin will land a harsh slap to your folds and/or to your thigh

❥ When they find out that you haven't been paying attention the whole time they'll roll their eyes and tell you to focus because they "have no plans to stop until you give us an answer."

❥ At this point it's not so much about what fingers are better, they just want to be right no matter what. Which! Inevitably turns this a competition on who can make you cum faster with their fingers and/or them edging you until you tell them whose way is "better"

❥ You're having a whole lot of orgasms that night. Almost all of which are pulled from their fingers and, depending on how much you toss and turn, may or may not end with you being held down forcefully by whoever isn't knuckles deep into your cunt 🤭

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

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mundanenonsense · 3 months ago

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biker!simon x learnerdriver!reader

3869 words.

completely self indulged drabble inspired by what happened during my most recent driving lesson lol

enjoy xoxo

(edit: so there might be a part 2 coming…)

[next]

“We are in a 40 zone, you know you can go faster than 25? This will get you failed on the test.”

Terrie, your driving instructor sighed once again, looking at the speedometer as she rubbed her forehead with frustration.

“Well, I’d rather be safe than sorry, there could be another car coming from behind the bend and-“ A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you squeezed the steering wheel tighter, shifting a little in the drivers seat before you gently tickled the gas with your foot, increasing the speed by a few miles. You’d been learning to drive for a month now, two double lessons a week, having passed your theory test with flying colours before you even decided to sit behind the wheel, this should all be a piece of piss.

Well, it wasn’t.

You cursed yourself for quitting your lessons when you were 17. Should have just done it then when you were a headstrong, confident teenager. Who would have known that 8 years later you would be a little scaredy cat, who was afraid of driving this big metal tin faster than 30 miles per hour?

Definitely not you.

You were a great backseat driver after all, you just assumed it would come as easy for you if you were the one actually in the driving seat.

Couldn’t be more wrong.

The responsibility overwhelmed you and fear of other drivers messing up was crushing any kind of confidence that you may have held.

You leaned forward as if that was going to make it easier for you to notice possible hazards as you took the turn.

“I know you’re scared of country roads, but you have nothing to worry about. Come on, gas, gas, gas.” Terrie tried to urge you on, but your foot stayed firmly in place as you silently stood (or sat) your ground (car seat).

And then suddenly you flinched, a loud sound of an engine revving behind you made you jump a little in your seat, instinctively (and stupidly) making you attempt to turn to the side. Towards the hedge. The instructor immediately grabbed the hold of the wheel, straightening it up after your sudden jolt.

“It’s fine, breathe, focus on the road, relax your shoulders, it’s just an idiot on the bike behind us.” She said, her voice soft as if she attempted to soothe you, used to the anxiety that ravaged you from the inside every single time you were in her car. She slowly let go off the wheel when you steadied your hands on it once again, taking in a deep shaky breath.

Your eyes snapped to the rear view mirror where you saw a large, black motorcycle ridden by an equally large man dressed in a black hoodie and pants, following you in little slaloms as if he was actively trying to show you how bored out of his mind he is.

“What should I do?” You asked quickly, squeezing your hands on the wheel tighter as he revved the engine again, your knuckles turning white from the strain.

“Well, if you’re not gonna speed up, steer to the left and let him overtake us, he should just go, there’s plenty of space.” Terrie said, looking over her shoulder as the biker started to near closer, sitting almost on the butt of your car.

“Why is he doing this! It’s dangerous, what if I had to suddenly break!” You groaned in frustration as you let the wheel turn gently to the left, switching your gaze between the empty road ahead and the biker behind you.

One thing Simon didn’t expect on his early morning ride to his mother’s house was traffic or any obstacles on the roads. Because nobody really expects that at 6am on a Saturday. The roads should be empty. And the majority of the drive from the base was smooth sailing. Perfect really. It was sunny, late spring in all its beauty with clear skies, chirping birds, bright warm sun and just calmness. He was able to push his Harley forward, not worrying about many drivers, leaning forward, feeling the strong engine beneath him and the wind rattling his clothes, music blasting through the headphones he wore under his helmet.

It relaxed him.

Soothed him.

Helped him get rid of the excess post deployment adrenaline that coursed in his veins.

All he had to worry about in this moment was the machine beneath him and that was far easier than having to worry about the lives of soldiers who fought along his side. His friends. Brothers in arms who he both bled for and spilled blood for. No flying bullets, no blood, no screams, no thinking on his feet just to make sure he survived another minute.

He had complete control right now. Over himself, over the bike and over the seemingly empty country road he was cruising.

It couldn’t be better.

That’s until he noticed a learner driver car ahead of him and with a little frustrated sigh he naturally slowed down, finally going within the speed limit. Not for long though. The miles on the speedometer were still dropping as his foot stayed firmly on the break when he realised the car in front of him was going much slower than he anticipated.

Because for some reason, this idiot in the car thought it was okay to drive more than 10 miles under the speed limit.

And yes, that idiot might have been a learner and Simon himself might have been an idiot for going a little (a lot) over the advised speed, but that didn’t matter now.

Maybe they were gonna pull over? That must have been the reason why they were going so slow. Surely.

Nope.

Apparently this wasn’t the case and he quickly realised it.

Simon revved the engine loudly with a sharp turn of his wrist, his eyes stuck on the little white car ahead of him.

And then it swayed to the left right towards the hedge, before suddenly straightening up. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his nose, shaking his head slightly. How can a rev of an engine startle someone? At this point he didn’t even bat an eye to explosions happening 10 meters away from him or sudden sounds of firing guns. It was nothing. Pathetic.

Whoever was driving clearly didn’t plan on going any faster.

Simon thought it was a blessing that they’ve managed to move forward at all with how fucking slow the car was moving.

No more fucking control for Simon.

All the control was in the hands of the the driver of the white learner car. You.

It’s not like he was in a rush. His mother was still probably asleep, he didn’t even announce to her that he was back. He rarely did. He preferred to just turn up. It avoided him any unnecessary questions that he much more preferred to answer in person than over text or phone call. He wasn’t even sure if he even remembered to turn his phone on when they returned to the base. Not like he had many people to contact apart from his team, his mother and Tommy and the former have seen him a few hours ago during the debrief anyway.

Simon didn’t need the unnecessary distractions.

There was also nothing that compared to the smile on his mother’s face when she would see him standing unannounced in the door or when she would find him in her kitchen, casually sipping on his black tea after he silently sneaked into the house using his set of keys. Just like he planned to do today.

If only this god forsaken wannabe driver would move faster, he’d be able to relax sooner. He would be in one of the few safe places that he secretely cherished so much nursing his favourite tea, waiting for his mum to finally come downstairs and insist on cooking him a breakfast.

Normally he would just overtake, but the rural road that they were driving through was too wavy for him to do it safely.

And as much as he was risking his life on the field, he wasn’t that much of a fucking twat to kill himself or anyone else in the close proximity. Like the learner driver and their instructor, who he thought must have been a shitty instructor letting them go this slowly.

No, he knew when to take a step back.

But then the driver moved to the side, leaving him a wider opening.

How lovely. Maybe he would get to his mum’s house about the time that he planned instead of next year.

He urged forward, flicking his visor up with a little curiosity, trying to catch the reflection of the person driving. He betted on an older person. Maybe a pruned grandad having to take some refresher lessons?

And as soon as he saw your wide, pretty, worried eyes, staring right fucking back at him in your rearview mirror, he could have sworn that the music playing in his ears paused, the world suddenly became brighter, his lungs got twice as full as he took a ragged breath and everything finally started to make sense. His assumptions went to fuck themselves.

How could he ever be pissed off at someone with such pretty eyes?

If you wanted to go slow, you had every single right to go slow.

He would happily stay behind you, even if you moved at a snail pace, he would happily follow even if you decided to go even slower.

Because that oh so beautifully and blissfully extended the time that he would be able to stare at your eyes.

Because fuck, he was done in. Completely gone. Absolutely fucking fucked up.

Simon Riley would gladly write to the government or wherever he would have to write try to get every single speed limit around adjusted so that you didn’t have to go faster than you were going now.

Your eyes flickered between the road ahead and his reflection in the rear view mirror, feeling his stare on you. Your cheeks reddened and panic settled. Why was he not overtaking? He was supposed to! That’s how the roads worked. If someone was going too slow for your liking, you’d overtake them. You were used to it, it happened before more often than you’d like to admit, but still.

“He’s not overtaking! What should I do?!” You squealed nervously.

You knew you pissed off other drivers on the roads, which was one of the reasons why you always did both your weekly lessons on the early weekend mornings. It meant there was less of a chance of you feeling like a total failure since the streets were practically empty. And now having this biker practically sitting on your ass, catching his dark eyes every time you looked in the mirror, made you feel like you were gonna throw up.

Was he judging you? Was he angry? Was he just staying there to torment you and make you feel like you were doing a bad job? Well, Mr Biker, tough shit, your brain was already working overtime guilt tripping you into thinking you were the biggest liability.

“We gave him the chance, just go back to the middle of the lane.” Terrie said calmly and turned around in her seat, looking over her shoulder at the biker.

And Simon wanted to murder that woman on the spot. It wasn’t the judgy, annoyed look on her face that angered him. It wasn’t the fact that she clearly shook her head at him as he watched her mouth something that he couldn’t quite distinguish.

Her big fucking head covered the mirror view as she looked at him. Even if it was just for a brief few moments.

He couldn’t stare at you anymore.

Well, he could. Eventually. Quite quickly actually.

But the few seconds that he couldn’t see those pretty eyes, which now glistened so beautifully with suppressed tears, seemed to drag out into eternity.

Why were you so worried little driver?

Did the instructor upset you?

Did she say something nasty to you about your absolutely perfect driving?

Don’t worry, you sweet little thing, you could quit driving with her, Simon would teach you better. He was a great teacher. Not that he ever taught anyone how to drive. But he taught plenty of people how to survive out on the field. How to handle a gun. How to disarm someone in all but 3 simple moves. Yeah. Simon would surely be able to teach you to drive. He would make sure you felt safe, since you so clearly didn’t. Whether that was in the car or in his arms as he cradled you so close to him, cupping your cheeks, stroking his thumbs lightly over the cheekbones as he gazed into those pretty, fucking eyes. He would bathe you in praises every time you did something right. Because fucking hell, maybe then those worried eyes would become a little less worried.

And if you wanted to quit driving altogether, that would be okay too.

Simon would happily become your personal chauffeur if it meant keeping your worries at bay. Although he would try to push for your independence, for the sake of it whilst he was out on deployment. But whenever he was back, you would never have to get into the drivers seat again if you didn’t want to. He’d drive your ass wherever your little, precious heart desired.

You’d make such a pretty passenger princess in his car, responsible for the radio, relaxing in the seat, his hand splayed on your thigh, stroking it tenderly as you looked at him with those pretty eyes that he could not hold himself back from gazing into at every single possible chance he got.

He’d slowly get you used to high speeds.

Well, higher than 30.

Not ever higher than 70.

Ever.

Even if it was him driving.

He could never risk his precious cargo, whether that would be in a car or on the back of his bike as your arms would wrap around him securely. He would make you hold onto his hoodie or his leathers (probably his leathers, since he would have to set out a good example for you if he would make you wear yours too after he bought them). No more speeding for Simon. Not even to tease you. How could he ever risk you getting hurt?

You’d still cling on so tightly, no matter how fast he was going. He just knew it.

His head shook out of the daydream as the flicker of your left indicator came to life and with each annoying twinkle, his heart shattered more and more.

You were turning left.

Well, not yet.

You were currently slowing down even more as you approached a closed view junction, even though it was a good 70 meters ahead.

You thoughtful little thing, so fucking considerate as you practically teased him with the dagger that you were about to pierce right through his chest.

“Do you think he’s angry…?”

Terrie turned her head to stare at you with a deadpan expression as you asked the question, your eyes once again meeting Simon’s as you hesitantly approached the junction.

“He probably enjoyed the nap.”

That didn’t make you feel better. You were on a verge of a mental breakdown, stress manifesting itself in the tremor of your jaw, knuckles stiff and white from how hard you were squeezing the wheel.

You hated every single moment of this.

Felt like a liability.

Maybe driving just wasn’t for you and you should get over the fact that until you were rich enough to uber everywhere, you would have to make do with the public transport.

There were worse things than being squeezed on a bus with a tonne of grocery bags amongst strangers who hated this just as much as you did.

For example annoying every single other driver on the road.

Your desperation to people please could not handle that.

“Can we not cut the lesson short today and just get me home?”

“You need to learn, I’m not letting you give up on yourself, come on, turn left at the junction and we will practice some maneuvers at a parking, okay?”

You nodded as you stopped at the junction, to assess if it was safe for you to move out onto the road, the black bike pulled up next to you, his right indicator on.

Simon stared at you right through the window and fuck, if he thought your eyes were pretty, seeing your right profile was like bashing his already cracked heart with a hammer.

For a moment he questioned taking a detour. All the tiredness and need for the comfort of his mother’s home suddenly disappeared and all that the man needed was to take a turn left and stay right behind you.

You hesitantly looked to the left, leaning a little over the wheel, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before you turned your gaze to the right to check if there were any cars approaching (which there weren’t, this was a countryside road at 6am, duh). And by chance your eyes met again.

Well, not strictly by chance. There was actually no chance in that whatsoever. You knew he was staring. You could feel it. His gaze never left you from the moment he decided to stay behind you instead of overtaking. You didn’t want to look back at him, but when you turned your head, you knew you couldn’t stop yourself. He was right there, looking right at you through the little gap in his helmet, where the visor had been lifted.

His dark eyes narrowed, making him look almost angry, turning your stomach. You swallowed heavily, afraid that you might just accidentally throw up.

You felt guilty.

What if you didn’t give him enough space to overtake and that’s why he was stuck behind you? Was he in a rush?

He looks so angry…

Simon watched with curiosity, squinting a little, trying to ignore the glare of the sun in the closed window as your pretty, full, pink lips mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ and he wasn’t sure if his heart could take it anymore.

Why were you apologising little, sweet driver?

He shook his head quickly, as you turned yours back to the road and he watched you attempt to set off. He wanted to reassure you. Tell you everything was okay. That he wasn’t angry. That you didn’t have to apologise for anything because even if you decided to fucking run him over at that painfully slow speed, making it a torture, he would probably thank you and ask you to do it again, if that was the only interaction you two would have.

You tried to get away from him. From the stressful situation you’ve found yourself in. From the stupid wavy country road.

Except that the car fucking stalled.

The frown on your face deepened as you tried to start it off again but it immediately stalled again, the car jerking forward a little.

You were so close to just getting out and walking your way back home. Eyes welling up with tears that stung and made everything slightly blurry. You didn’t care anymore. The words of your instructor seemed to melt into nothing as they filled the car with a calm tone, when she gently talked you through it.

You tried to follow. You really did. Everything to get away and save yourself from even more embarrassment that made your cheeks burn like fire and your throat tighten, making it difficult to breathe.

Clutch all the way down, gear into neutral, turn the key, gear into first and slowly release the clutch as you gas, gas, gas, gas! Come on, just use the gas, it wont hurt you! There we go, that’s it!

And just like that you were gone from him, driving away down the road, suddenly much faster than he anticipated you to, as he stayed at the junction, rubbing his eyes through the opening in his helmet. Simon was pressing his fingers hard, unsure if he was trying to erase you from his eyelids or permanently imprint you into them so that every time he closed them, he could see you.

“Fuck my life.” He murmured to himself and leaned his gloved hands back down on the handlebars as he set off, turning right onto the main road.

Realistically, he knew he would never see you again.

There was no chance of that.

He should have used that moment at the junction when you stalled, gotten off his bike and unscrewed one of the nuts from the bolts that held the frame of the harley together and dropped to his knee, begging you to marry him.

From the short moment that he looked away from your face and towards your hands squeezing the wheel, he saw they were delicate, small, much smaller than his and empty. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Surely a nut would fit.

Surely.

And if it didn’t, he would drag you onto the back of his bike and take you to the nearest jeweller for you to choose an actual ring.

He didn’t care about the price.

If you were willing to marry him, he would spend whatever he needed to.

And you surely would want to marry him, wouldn’t you? Would a promise of you never having to sit behind the steering wheel be good enough of a reason?

What he definitely was sure of was that his mother would appreciate to find him in her kitchen sipping the usual tea, but this time with a pretty bird perched up on his lap. She’d been asking if he’s found anyone for years after all.

Well, now he has found someone.

He has found you.

Except that you turned left before he got to do anything about it.

And he was stupid enough not to follow.

He didn’t even know your name, but he knew that you were the one who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Future Mrs Riley. The woman who’s eyes he would gaze into every single night before you two fell asleep, and he would desperately try to drag out that moment, chatting your ears off, keeping you awake, keeping you entertained.

Simon would do anything. Any. Fucking. Thing.

But he had to find you again first. And that may prove harder than anticipated since he knew nothing about you. He should have at least memorised the number plate to possibly use it to find you on the list of people the instructor insured onto her car.

But if Simon Riley was good at anything, it was finishing what he started. He was conditioned into discipline. Self drive. Challenging himself. He enjoyed being pushed and working all the difficult shit out. And he wouldn’t give up until a bolt nut from his bike or a ring, almost as pretty as your eyes (because nothing could possibly compare to how stunning they were to Simon) was on your finger and you were right in his arms.

#biker!ghost #biker!simon #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #I can’t drive so I’m making the reader just as helpless #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #cod #simon riley cod

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withleeknow · 1 month ago

Text

the playbook.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship; fluff; unedited - i'm awful, a little suggestive if you squint and close your eyes completely or if you think neck kisses are smexy, kitty cameo, erhm that's probably it word count: 0.7k note: hello pls have this silly drabble as an apology for being MIA with writing lately. i think my writing style is changing so this MIGHT read a little different compared to what i used to post lol. also, if you think the title is hella random, that's because it is. i legit didn't know what to call it lmao

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

The last thing that you’d expect on a random Sunday morning in May, is a cloud of hair tickling your neck and a weight on your chest, heavy yet welcoming.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

See, this doesn’t happen very often. Usually, it’s you who has to drape yourself over your lover’s body like a weighted blanket. It’s you who has to hold onto him like a koala, pouring into the grip as much strength as one can at the ass crack of dawn. It’s you who has to whine and nag — “Pleaseee,” “Don’t gooo,” “Ten more minutes,” or sometimes simply a chorus of unintelligible, disgruntled noises like an angry cat — just for him to stay in bed for a while longer. It doesn’t always work, but it’s the only tactic you’ve got.

On weekdays, when he gets up for work before you. On weekends, when he insists on going to the gym because in his words, he “can’t miss chest days.” Most of the time, it’s his side of the bed that gets cold first.

But on mornings like this, when the air is crisp and the world is calm and Minho is holding onto you like a lifeline, you relish in the feeling. Bask in the warmth of his arms around you, a gentle reminder that as much as you need him, he needs you too.

When you wiggle in his grip, trying to settle into a more comfortable position, he makes a noise, low in his throat, a little grumpy.

“Morning,” you say. A kiss lands on his forehead, a silent apology for disturbing his sleep.

He grumbles again; it sounds like a garbled version of “Good morning.”

It takes a minute, as though his system needs a moment to boot up in the morning. When he’s a little bit more awake, Minho tightens his arms around you, his face nuzzling against your neck.

Soft lips seeking refuge, an even softer kiss finding its rightful place on your neck, that one spot that you like, near the junction where it meets your shoulder. Immeasurable delight tingling in your chest, three words echoing like a mantra in your mind.

“Clingy today,” you comment with mirth, and a coy smile that he can’t see.

He stays quiet, only burrowing himself further into your side, like even this is too much distance. Like he can’t get close enough. Like all he wants to do is melt into you, fuse together and never be separated. That should be enough for a response, an agreement to your words, driving your point home.

“Don’t you have to go to the gym?”

That gets you a grunt, completely uninterested.

“You’re gonna lose your boobs if you miss chest day.”

A mix of a chuckle and an offended scoff this time.

One hand grips your hips, like Minho can’t decide how he wants to retaliate. Next thing you know, he’s taken a page out of your playbook, pinning you under his body weight where you can’t escape, laying flat on top of you like a human-sized cat.

You gasp in surprise, having the air effectively knocked out of your lungs.

No space to run, but lucky for him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

He shuffles a little though, partially resting on the mattress so you don’t get crushed.

He kisses your neck again, still that spot that never fails to pull a moan from you. But right now, it’s more comforting than it is sexual. More intimate than lewd, only his lips and your skin. Chilly spring against the backdrop of him — all sincere devotion, like stars in galaxy eyes and playful fondness hidden in bunny smiles.

He murmurs lazily against you. “Fuck chest day.”

You laugh. “So aggressive.”

He hums and bites down, only to instantly soothe the sting with fresh kisses. It doesn’t take long for sleep to find you again, not when a certain someone seems adamant on not letting you leave this bed anytime soon.

Edges of your vision blur into a halfhearted dream, dizzying in the best way possible.

Then you fall, startled from that dream when the weight of him presses down on you all of a sudden.

Your eyes flutter open to find an orange furball already loafing on top of Minho’s back, having hopped on the bed and landed squarely there like it’s marked with a giant red X. Bear in mind, this isn’t exactly typical Soonie behavior either.

Despite the complaint that he exhales — “Jeez, you’re so heavy,” — Minho makes no move to shoo his son away.

Seems like both of your boys had the same idea this morning.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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ponyojujuu · 5 months ago

Text

not a drabble, list with thoughts!

most to least likely to get turned on when you wear their clothes (&team pt 2.)

not smut, but not fluff

slightly suggestive content mdni

you have been warned

nicho! nicholas loves this shit dude. i mean LOVES. not only is he a fucking fashion dork, so he’s already gonna wanna dress you up in his clothes. but he’d loose his mind if you casually just wore his clothes with nothing underneath. the way his baggy clothes would sit on your naked body would make him go insane. he’d probably even fuck you in his shirt. since he’s the jealous type he would probably offer you to wear his clothes when you go out because they’re baggy. likes that matching couple shit too. would fanboy over you in his clothes.

euijoo! euijoo seems like he has very oddly specific turn ons because he’s perverted. which is why this would definitely be one of them. i think euijoo had a huge thing with scents and would be obsessed with yours. he wouldn’t know at first how much he loves when you wear his clothes but after you return his hoodie the first time he’s ADDICTED to your scent on his clothing. i think he’d be really shy to admit that he loves when you wear his clothes but you’d find out eventually. because every-time you wear his clothes he’s instinctively really touchy and can’t stop staring. you know he’s turned on now.

jo! if jo is your boyfriend there’s no way you can do no harm in his eyes, he already has the patience of a saint there’s no way he wouldn’t love to share his clothing with you. he’d see you wear his clothes and be like, “is that mine?” “yeah.. sorry-” “no keep it” is how the conversation would go between you too. he’d instantly agree that his clothes look better on you and would start giving them to you before you could even ask/take them. jo gets flustered easily so the first time he sees you in his clothes it will turn him on and he won’t know how to react. he’ll get used to it eventually but i think he’d still be super attracted to you when you do this.

taki! taki loves this shit too tbh. i think he would have a dorky way of teasing you about it because his clothes would be so oversized on you and it would be laughable. also teasing how you always wanna wear his clothes instead of your own. but he’d actually prefer it that way, seems like he’d wanna fuck you in just his big t-shirt also. he would double take if you walked around the house with just his shirt and no underwear. underneath all the teasing would be him shooting you seductive glares.

fuma! i think fuma has bad self-control so he probably gets horny pretty quickly and hates being teased/seduced. so it’s not that you wearing his clothes wouldn’t turn him on, but then he’d have to rip them off of you and ruin his clothes because he’d much rather see you naked. he’s so chill and nonchalant though so what’s his is yours including his clothes so he lets you wear them. this definitely gets him worked up he just hates the disadvantage so it would either go two ways, he takes it off before your even wearing it for a few minutes or you just sleep/walk around naked. or well ofc in your own clothes LOL.

harua! i think sharing clothes between you and harua is really a normal thing which is why he may not get as turned on as the others. he probably likes when you wear his clothes out in public since they’re baggy and people won’t look at you too much(he gets jealous). but i think harua would really adore anything you do, so i think there would be certain times where he can’t hide his desires when you wear his clothing.

yuma! similar to fuma, i just think this gets him really sexually frustrated. because your teasing him with the idea of being fully naked under his big t-shirt there’s no way he’d be able to just stay still or continue on with the day like normal. he’d rather you wear his clothes after you guys fuck. that way he’s tired and your going to sleep so it doesn’t matter. he also seems like he might feel a little off-put if he goes into his closet and you stole his favorite shirt/hoodie and he can’t find it. if you really wanted to chill in his clothes, he’d let you, he would just be fighting a boner the whole time.

kei! i don’t know why but i just imagine kei will find this silly. because he’ll see you in his clothes and how oversized it is and think it looks funny because he prefers you in tighter clothes. of course at the end of the day it doesn’t matter, kei seems like the worshiping type so he’s gonna compliment you regardless. but i can just see him taking a ton of pictures of you in his clothes because he just finds it so silly that your wearing his clothes. but if you find them comfortable he’ll lend you all of them to see you smile. but i don’t really see this turning him on very much.

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wendichester · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, hello, my dearest~! I hope this finds you well, and you’ve got good things going on in your life! I love all of your writings and drabbles and works, and your notifications during my day always make me smile! 💜

May I request a Dean X reader x Sam (no wincest, obvs) piece where they’re each trying to push the reader to be with the other brother because they don’t think they can make the reader happy, but the reader is like, “you guys are idiots if you can’t see how happy BOTH of you make me.” Can you tell that I struggle to ever fully decide and just pick one of them? lol appreciate you💜 please keep being amazing!

༘ ⋆｡˚three's a charm,

summary. dean wants you to be with sam. sam wants you to be with dean. you want both.

pairing. dean winchester x reader x sam winchester

wordcount. 715

notes. thank you so so much for requesting lovely! you're the best 🩷

It starts as a subtle thing—sideways glances, hesitations that weren’t there before, moments where one of them will open his mouth to say something and then stop, like he’s biting back words.

And it’s driving you insane.

Dean and Sam Winchester are some of the smartest, most capable people you’ve ever met, but God, are they both complete idiots when it comes to this.

You know they love you. You know because it’s in the way Sam always makes sure you eat something halfway decent, even in the middle of a hunt, and how Dean always insists on checking the locks twice before bed when you’re around. You know because of the way they touch you—Sam’s careful reverence, Dean’s protective warmth—because of the way they look at you when they think you’re not watching.

But lately? Lately, they’ve been acting weird.

It starts with Dean.

“You know,” he says one night, sprawled out on the motel bed next to you, staring at the ceiling like it holds all the answers to the universe. “Sam’s a good guy.”

You blink at him. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Dean huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, like… real good. Smart, responsible, tall.” He cuts his eyes toward you. “You like tall, right?”

Your brows knit. “I mean, I guess—”

“You should, uh… you should think about him. Y’know. That way.”

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Dean.”

“What?”

“You do realize I’m sleeping with both of you, right?”

Dean shrugs, like he’s suddenly very interested in the loose thread on his sleeve. “Yeah, well. Maybe you should—” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Maybe you should pick the guy who can actually give you what you deserve.”

You stare at him. “Dean.”

He won’t look at you. “I’m just saying.”

You’re about to rip him a new one, but before you can, the motel door opens and in walks Sam, looking fresh out of the shower, towel slung around his neck.

And that’s when it happens again.

“I was thinking,” Sam starts, running the towel through his damp hair, “Dean’s really good for you.”

You blink. “Are you kidding me?”

Dean snorts. “Right back atcha, Sammy.”

Sam frowns. “I’m serious. He… he makes you laugh. Keeps things light. I know I can be a lot sometimes.” His voice dips, eyes dropping like he’s afraid of what he’s saying. “I don’t want to weigh you down.”

Dean scoffs. “Oh, come on, man.”

“What?” Sam shrugs. “It’s true.”

You look between them—these two idiots—and let out a loud, exasperated groan.

“Oh my God,” you say, flopping onto your back dramatically. “You’re both so stupid.”

Dean lifts a brow. “Excuse me?”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “Do you seriously think I want to be with just one of you?”

Sam hesitates. “Well, I mean—”

“No,” you cut in. “You don’t mean. Because if you did, you’d realize how insanely happy I am with both of you.” You look between them, making sure they get it. “Not just Dean. Not just Sam. Both. Of. You.”

Silence.

Dean scratches the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “You sure? ‘Cause—”

“I love you,” you say firmly, looking at him. Then you turn to Sam. “And you. Equally. Differently, but equally. You both make me happy. You both make me feel safe. I don’t want just one of you—I want this. Us.”

The tension in the room shifts. Dean glances at Sam. Sam glances at Dean. And then—

“Well, shit,” Dean breathes, rubbing a hand over his face. “Guess we are a couple of morons.”

Sam exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he admits. “I think we are.”

You sigh, shaking your head at them. “Took you long enough.”

Dean smirks. “So, uh… does that mean we can stop all the awkward pushing-you-away crap?”

“Yes,” you deadpan.

Sam chuckles, moving toward the bed, placing a hand on your knee. “And you’re really, really happy?”

You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, Sammy. I really, really am.”

Dean hums, shifting closer too, his palm settling against the small of your back. “Well, in that case,” he says, grinning, “I say we make up for lost time.”

And who are you to argue with that?

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snow-blower · 4 months ago

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it has been absolutely pouring rain here for the last like two days and i need to cuddle up in front of a fire with a warm tea, a book, and Robb and Grey Wind

Okay, smut is still sucking ass, so may I offer you all this drabble/one-shot thing to keep y'all fed? Anyways, channeled my inner love for folklore and legends here. (Please let me know if there's any grammar or spelling mistakes, no matter how many times I read through, there's something I've missed lol)

Home is Wherever I'm With You.

My Masterlist

Words: 1.7k TW: Reader is pregnant, mention of injury (in the folklore tale), pure fluff. Literally all fluff.

Greywind is the first to notice him standing in the doorway, the direwolf lifting his head to acknowledge his human with a low huff.

Robb leans against the doorway, his lips turned upwards in a soft smile as he watches you. You're sat cross-legged on the ground by the hearth, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a book in your lap. Greywind, ever so clingy, is curled around you with his large head resting in your lap. There's a mug of tea beside you, the steam rising in gentle coils.

Whilst Greywind had noticed him, you were still yet to. You flick through the pages of your book, focused solely on the carefully written words on the parchment. You were completely oblivious to him being there.

Robb simply watches you for a moment, his arms crossed against his chest as he takes in the endearing sight that is you. The fire casts a flickering orange colour over your soft features, making you look ever the more beautiful. You look damn near ethereal sitting there.

The rain patters against the windows, droplets sliding down the paned glass. The sound mixes with the crackling of the hearth and the gentle crinkle of parchment as you flick through your book. It creates an atmosphere that Robb never wants to leave. It's warm and cosy. It's home.

"Darling?" Robb calls softly whilst pushing away from the doorway. He shuts the heavy door behind him, shutting you both in the comfort and peace of your chambers and away from the chaos of politics and duty.

"You look cosy," he teases, unbuckling his sword belt, removing it and propping it up against the wall beside the door. He makes his way towards you, crouching down to peer over your shoulder to see what book it is you're reading.

He can't quite read the title from his position, but he can read a few words on the page. By the looks of it, it seems to be a collection of old folklore tales. One he recognises to be: The Green Man's Tales. It's a collection of old, Northern legends and folklore tales. It's a favourite book of yours — one you've read far too many times. So many times that Robb can no longer count them on his fingers.

"I am," you quip softly, allowing your eyes to move away from your book to look up at your husband. "I'd be even more cosy if you were beside me, though."

Robb chuckles softly at that, the sound soft as it fills you with a warmth. Hearing him happy — especially when you're the reason for it — makes you feel just as happy. Giddy, really.

Turning your head to face him, your nose brushes against his jaw. "Sit with me, my King," you murmur softly, wrapping a hand around his wrist. You tug him to sit down beside you, giggling softly in response to the huff he lets out as he lands on his bottom.

He loves the sounds of your giggles, of your laughter. It's always soft and sweet, lingering with warmth and surrounding him like an angel's whisper.

Extending your arm, you lift the blanket in an offering to Robb. He takes the offer greedily, slipping an arm around your waist as you wrap the furs snuggly around you both.

Tucking you against his side, he turns his head to bury his face against your soft hair. Greywind had long since returned to napping with his head in your lap, his large paws resting against your thighs.

The room is filled with a peaceful silence as you both sit there. You return your attention back to your book, contently leaning back against Robb's side. Your attention occasionally drifts as you take a sip of your warm tea, gulping down the comfort of the warm liquid.

Robb remains by your side with one arm wrapped around your waist, his hand cupping the plush of your hip. His other hand settles on your thigh, every now and then drifting to give Greywind a few pets. But it always quickly returns to the softness of your thighs.

"Read to me," Robb murmurs in your ear, smirking softly as your breath hitches in your throat. He squeezes your thigh encouragingly, bumping your cheek with his nose playfully. "I want to listen to your voice, my sweet. If you'll give me the pleasure of such."

"Of course," you smile softly, knowing you simply can't deny your husband. Even as your cheeks flush a slight red hue, you cannot deny him. Not when his hand on your thigh slides carefully up to your stomach. He rests his hand against the slight swell of there, his thumb brushing along the curve of the baby bump.

Barely a moon into your pregnancy, the bump had begun growing. It's subtle, barely noticeable unless looked at too closely, but it's there.

"This one's about Simeon Star-eyes," you murmur, pointing to the short passage about him on the yellowed parchment. Robb hums, resting his chin against your shoulder. A small encouragement for you to continue.

"Songs sing of a knight who lost his eyes in a tragic fight," You start, keeping your voice low and soft. "Unwilling to let such tragedy deter him, he replaced his lost eyes. He placed glittering gemstones in the empty sockets — deep blue sapphires."

Your soft-spoken words carry throughout the room, and Robb finds himself hanging on every word. He's heard this tale so many times — mostly from you — that he could easily recite it himself, word for word. As he can with every tale in this book. But, listening to you read the words, your hand coming down to rest over his on the bump of your stomach, he finds himself enchanted. Completely and utterly transfixed.

Greywind, who had woken from his slumber seems to mirror his human's action. His yellow eyes peer up at you, his ears twitching with each word from you and his tail thumping happily against the fur rug. Your voice is simply a comfort to the both of them. And Robb has no doubt that your child will feel the same way.

"Tell me more," he pleads softly once he realises you've paused. You're glancing down at him, your nose a breath away from his own. You've caught him staring up at you with adoration as you read and Robb goes a little red in the face at that.

Turning back to the book, you begin reading once more. "Wielding a long spear with daggers bound to each end, he'd spin it in his hands and chop down two men at once."

Robb listens carefully, hanging on each word still. He dips his head to press a few light kisses along your shoulder. They're gentle enough to be innocent, but you know your husband better than that. Yet, you don't call him out in it. Instead, you simply bask in the loving touch.

"Some say the sapphire gemstones allowed him to see what others couldn't — connecting him to the Old Magic." Glancing back down at Robb once more, you lean more into him, unable to bite back the amused breath as he kisses along your skin.

"They also say he was quite the handsome man," you quip teasingly, watching as Robb's gaze quickly snaps towards your own. His eyebrows furrow with suspicion as he processes your teasing words.

"Handsome, you say?" He asks, watching as you bob your head in a nod. Your lip trembles with the effort to bite back a grin, and Robb decides to play along with your attempt to playfully toy his jealousy.

"More handsome than I, my sweet wife?" He questions, all the while his hand on your stomach moves along your ribs, coming to rest just below your breast.

"So the stories say," you giggle, your hand falling from his own as it slides up your body.

"That simply cannot be true," he growls playfully as he pulls back to look at you fully. Your eyes are bright with a playfulness he adores, your cheeks flushed with a mix of love and heat from the fire that continues to flicker away in the heath.

"But it is!" You insist, still biting back a grin. "The stories say so. So, it must be."

Robb gasps dramatically as he pulls back slightly. His hand on your ribs moves to his heart as though he truly were offended by your words. But the grin that pulled at his own lips assured you he truly wasn't.

"I cannot believe this!" He shakes his head, mocking a man truly distraught. "My own wife, mother of my child, believes a legend more handsome than I."

You giggle then, the sound urging him to continue. Quickly, your giggles turn to laughter. He doesn't stop his act of the offended and jealous husband until he's sure you're lacking in oxygen as you laugh.

Robb chuckles then, dropping the act and pulling you close. "I love you, my darling." He murmurs against your temple, breathing in the floral scent of your hair. "Even if you think a dead man more attractive than me."

"I love you too," you breathe out, trying to steady your voice and avoid falling into another giggling fit.

Robb lets you return to your book, holding you against his chest as you continue to read quietly to him. His hand on your ribs returns to the soft swell of your stomach as he allows his thoughts to drift. And drift they do.

You've given him a child. A baby he'll love and cherish. A baby that will be so loved by yourselves and the entirety of Winterfell. Robb knows that when the baby is born, you'll read to him too. Whatever tales you think the little one would like, you'd no doubt read. Robb wouldn't be surprised if he'd come back from his duties one evening to your chambers filled to the brim with random books.

He smiles at the thought, his chin returning to sit against your shoulder. He lets your voice fill his ears, chasing away any lingering thoughts of his duties, of the wars. For a moment he lets himself relax with you in his arms. Your soft voice mixed with the peaceful ambience of the crackling fire and rain gently hitting the windows, lulls Robb into a sleep.

Greywind seems to have drifted off alongside Robb, his tail relaxing against the fur rug.

When you notice Robb lost in slumber, you smile softly at the sight. Pressing a light kiss to his jaw, you pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders before once more returning to your book.

#3lisia asks ✶☁️#mooties ♡#inkandarsenic #game of thrones #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark drabble #asoiaf #asoiaf x you #game of thrones x you #game of thrones x reader #fluff fic #Robb is king because i say so #and he's still alive #and he survived the red wedding #because I say so

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