#i’m good doing exactly what i’m already doing

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In His Hands

summary: joaquin takes care of you in the face of your anxiety.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

wc: 2,018

contents: 18+/MINORS DNI, SMUT, established relationship, anxiety, oral sex (f!receiving), teasing, pet names

an: been thinking about joaquin being soooo accomodating + sweet, so here's the finished product. MINORS DNI i stg!!!

marvel masterlist

“Joaquin, don’t,” You whine, keeping your eyes on the study materials strewn about the coffee table. 

“Don’t what?” He asks, feigning innocence.

Though you can’t see him, you can hear the smile in his voice. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Ya sabes qué,” You suggest, reaching out to lazily brush his hand away from your shoulder.

He had started to rub them, massaging the tension out of your shoulders that always finds a home there. It’s sweet and you appreciate his care, but Joaquin’s touch is like a drug. Saccharine and sensual, it makes your insides warm in ways you didn’t know were possible until you fell in love with him. 

“Oh this,” He murmurs nonchalantly. His hands don’t stop, continuing to rub out the knots in your flesh. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m trying to study,” You say matter of factly.

“You’ve been studying all damn day, querida. You could use a break.”

“I can’t afford to break, the test is tomorrow. I need to cram as much information into my brain as I can.”

“You know so much already— look, it’ll be a piece of cake. You can do this, se que sí.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re the goddamn Falcon. This is important to me, Quino. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and I know you know how that feels. To want something so bad it feels like you can’t breathe.”

Joaquin did know. Looking up to Sam for all those years, wishing and waiting— working harder than he thought was possible brought him to where he is now. But, he’d also had you for a lot of that. Always there to make sure he was taking care of himself, that he didn’t wither away who he truly was for his dreams. He would always repay the favor; it’s what you deserve. 

“I know, querida, I know. This is important, but so are you. You’re so stressed— feel how tight you’re wound,” He murmurs, taking your hand and placing it on your shoulder. He’s right, your shoulders feel like bricks. 

“I could help with that,” He insists.

“You aren’t playing fair,” You whisper, leaning your head back against the couch as he increases the strength of his hands.

“Never said I would, baby,” He teases, planting a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, qué quires hmm? ¿Qué puedo hacer por ti?”

You shiver at the smooth sensuality of his words but still have the mind to tease him. “Aren’t you the one who distracted me? What do you want?” 

He guides your head to one side, rubbing at the base of your neck in a way that makes you pant. “That requires demonstration. Will you be my volunteer tonight?”

“I’m your volunteer every night,” You quip half heartedly. 

“I never hear any complaints,” His lips brush your ear as he strengthens the pressure of his fingers on your scalp. “Tell me, mi amor. What do you want?”

There’s no turning back now— he’s got you right where he wants you. And there’s no place you’d rather be right now. 

“Just…help me relax a little?” You breathe, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Mmm. Stay right there for me. Don’t move a muscle, okay?”

“Mhmm,” You hum. A whine slips from your lips when you lose contact with his warmth, but soon he reappears, his hands smoothing up your thighs. 

“Lean back, head against the couch for me.” He watches you comply, grinning as he praises you, “Good girl. Now hips up, these shorts gotta go.”

You raise your hips without any defiance, and he slips them and your panties away, discarding them across the room. You’re nearly trembling with anticipation despite the fact that he’s barely touched you. 

He notices and in typical Joaquin fashion, refuses to breeze past it. Gently, teasingly, he sinks his teeth into your thigh before soothing the spot with a kiss. “I haven’t even started yet, querida and you’re already shaking. I do that to you, hmm?”

“Mhmm,” You hum again, becoming more malleable under his touch with each second that passes.

“Just me. Now, open up,” He murmurs, using his hands to spread you open for him. “There we go, mira qué preciosa.” 

“Quino, mi amor,” You sigh, letting one of your hands drop to card through his silky hair.

The picture you two paint right now is as sensual as it is explicit. Your head thrown back against the couch, legs spread beneath the coffee table to accommodate Joaquin and his touch.

All you can think about is what it would feel like for his mouth to finally be on you. At that  thought, your brow furrows…several moments have passed and you’re still without him. You squirm against him expectantly.

He huffs a laugh, breath warm against where you need him most. “You gonna tell me what you’re wanting?”

“Joaquin,” You murmur, beginning to grow frustrated by his teasing.

“You know how much I love to hear it.” He pauses, lips hovering just inches away from your sensitive skin, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re mine, querida. You know you are.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, his possessiveness only making you ache for him more.

“Touch me, Joaquin. This isn’t very relaxing, I thought I was promised that,” You challenge, tilting your hips up further to try and close the gap yourself. The words come out sharp, but there's a flicker of need in your voice that betrays the frustration of not getting what you want.

“Alright, querida, you got me there. Stay still for me,” He commands, his own blood now burning with desire. 

He starts a slow dance of laying sweet, alternating kisses on the delicate skin of your thighs. You know that he’s done teasing by the focused trail he’s leaving, the way his hands grip you and hold you open more firmly. And then his mouth is on you, tongue flicking gently against your clit. 

Heat pools in your belly, liquid and inescapable. You rest more heavily against the couch as you press up into Joaquin’s mouth, needy and mindless with want. There’s nothing like being at his mercy– he knows all of your spots, the speed and pressure you need to tip over the edge into ecstasy. He always takes care of you, never making you feel less than adored. 

He hums into your pussy, his nose brushing at your clit as his tongue dips lower to lap at your slick with more firmness. The taste nearly drives him into a frenzy, desperate to make you cum again and again for that concentrated taste of you. But he reminds himself that this is for you. This is to melt away your anxieties, to replace all the worry in your brain and body with nothing but pleasure and security.

Even as he increases his intensity, it's still steady with the intent to savor you. You continue to tremble against him, hips falling into a rhythm to match the pace of his tongue. He lingers when he feels your breath catch more sharply or when you whimper, reveling in how responsive you are to his touch.

“Mas, Quino, please,” You plead, your fingers gripping his hair more firmly.

He groans, eyes fluttering at the mix of pleasure and pain he gets from you tugging at his locs. “You sure?” 

He wandyou to be sure because he would be happy to lay here between your legs and serve you for the rest of the night. For the rest of his life if you let him, and god he hopes you’ll let him. 

“Yes. Please. Please, Joaquin.”

“Tranquila, baby, I’ve got you. Just relax, hmm? Let me make you cum on my tongue,” He coaxes softly and at the same time so slowly, he presses a single finger inside of you. 

“God, yes,” You groan, planting one of your feet flat on the ground so that you can buck against him. 

Even with just one of his fingers you feel so full, made to take him and him alone in any way that he’ll give it.

Joaquin’s mouth grows more insistent, and he leans back to get you wetter, spitting on your clit before his tongue glides through your folds. “Yeah? Like that?”

“Mhmm,” You whimper, your chest starting to rise and fall frantically.  

“Hips down, honey, let me do all the work. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“But, I need more,” You whine impatiently, hips not stilling. 

“I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, anything you need, I’ll give to you,” He promises, pressing in another finger.

The delicious stretch winds you, the smooth movement of your hips stuttering as you succumb to him feeding your body what it needs. He stops all the teasing, stripping himself of the patience he’d built up so that he can ravage you the way you need. 

He’s as starved as you in the way he eats you out, messy and rushed, his fingers hooking to press incessantly at the sensitive spot inside you, making your legs clench around his head. You and Joaquin worked together seamlessly, the sound of his fingers inside you growing wetter and wetter as he winds you tighter and tighter.

“C’mon, querida, damelo. I can feel you. Let go,” He encourages tenderly in direct opposition of the urgency of his mouth and fingers.

It's all you need to fall over the edge, tumbling and tumbling more deeply into a pool of pleasure. Joaquin doesn’t stop, extending your high. Your hand knots further into his hair, and you pivot up against his tongue, taking all you need from him. Once he’s rung every drop from your body he withdraws his fingers, placing one last adoring kiss to your clit. 

With grace, he maneuvers from between your legs and comes to sit beside you, gathering you in his arms. “How was that? Feeling relaxed?”

“Mhmm, very relaxed,” You lean into him gratefully, feeling floaty.

He drops a kiss on your temple. He strokes your back with slow, comforting motions, a gentle reminder that even after all this, he’s there to hold you—body and soul. “Good, mi amor. Tienes hambre?”

The faint smell of his cologne clings to you as you lean into him, feeling his heartbeat under your fingertips.  “Mhmm.”

“Is mhmm all you can manage right now?” He teases.

“Mhmm.”

He laughs with his entire body, shaking the both of you. “Let me get up to get you something alright? Don’t say mhmm.”

“Alright,” You agree through a laugh.

He kisses you one last time before hopping up, heading towards the kitchen.

“Joaquin?”

He looks at you over his shoulder, raising a brow at you playfully, “Mhmm?”

“I love you.”

His face softens, grin goofy and adoring. “Te amo.”

—

“See? I told you you could, mi amor. Don’t doubt my girl or my methods,” He cups your cheek to kiss you breathless before producing the bouquet of flowers he hid behind his back. “I’m so proud of you.”

Your smile is childlike and giddy as you take the flowers from him. Leaning in once more you softly brush your mouth against his. You’re grateful for his presence, his support, his unwavering belief in you. “Gracias, Joaquin. No pude hacerlo sin ti.”

“¿Ah, sí? I’m the secret sauce, baby?” He teases lowly, crowding you against the wall despite being in a S.H.I.E.L.D testing facility.  

You feel your skin start to warm, butterflies breezing through your tummy. 

“You still feel warm, querida.” His voice dips, low and knowing. “Did I work you too hard?”

“You’re the worst.”

“And somehow the best. I can do it all.”

You roll your eyes playfully, pushing him back so that you can start down the hall. 

“We absolutely can’t work together in the field if you’re going to be so brazen,” You muse, studying the perfect bouquet in your hands. 

“Aw, cmon, I thought it would be fun. Let me change your mind,” He calls after you.

“You’ll have to work harder than you did last night to change my mind.”

His grin widens. “Challenge accepted.”

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[esspeon]

They’re just so mean to you, whispering dirty little comments in your ear every chance they get.

It’s basically torture for you, but he loves doing it to you. He loves watching how you press your thighs together when he walks away to sit back down on his couch, leaving you sat alone at the counter. He’s been teasing you ever since you’ve moved in with him but what’s more frustrating is that he’s never done more than that. Every time, without fail, you’ve been left do get yourself off alone. This time is no exception. You’re in your bed, knuckles deep inside your cunt with your eyes closed just to try and satisfy your needs while soft moans are leaving your pretty lips. You’re so lost in the pleasure that you don’t even notice them standing in your doorway, arms crossed and eyes glued to your pussy. “Need some help, pretty?” You yelp, caught off guard by his words. “What-” you manage to get out, immediately pulling your fingers out of you and covering your body to the best of your ability. “Oh c’mon. I know you’re touching yourself because of me, so why not accept my help, hm?”

And that is exactly how you found yourself in a mating press, cock so deep he’s practically fucked you dumb already. The sounds leaving your mouth belong in an erotic film and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t almost make him cum right then and there. “Agh- cunt’s squeezing me so tight. You’re such a slut f’me, hm? Couldn’t bear my teasing you had to make yourself cum at the thought of me?” He teases, managing to hit spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. “Don’t worry your pretty little head though, I’m here now and I’ll take good, good care of you.”

[meret118]

I assigned a writing prompt a few weeks ago that asked my students to reflect on a time when someone believed in them or when they believed in someone else. One of my students began to panic.

“I have to ask Google the prompt to get some ideas if I can’t just use AI,” she pleaded and then began typing into the search box on her screen, “A time when someone believed in you.”

“It’s about you,” I told her. “You’ve got your life experiences inside of your own mind.” It hadn’t occurred to her — even with my gentle reminder — to look within her own imagination to generate ideas. One of the reasons why I assigned the prompt is because learning to think for herself now, in high school, will help her build confidence and think through more complicated problems as she gets older — even when she’s no longer in a classroom situation.

She’s only in ninth grade, yet she’s already become accustomed to outsourcing her own mind to digital technologies, and it frightens me.

When I teach students how to write, I’m also teaching them how to think. Through fits and starts (a process that can be both frustrating and rewarding), high school English teachers like me help students get to know themselves better when they use language to figure out what they think and how they feel.

. . .

If you believe, as I do, that writing is thinking — and thinking is everything — things aren’t looking too good for our students or for the educators trying to teach them. In addition to teaching high school, I’m also a college instructor, and I see this behavior in my older students as well.

-----

This! This is what scares me the most about AI! Physical exertion is difficult if someone isn't used to it, and it gets easier the more often it's done. When it's done often enough, it becomes a habit. Mental exertion is exactly the same. Thinking is a learned skill just like a sport is, and an entire generation is growing up without that most critical skill.

An unthinking populace is a more easily controlled populace.

[monkebearness]

He + She (& Her)

Kim ChaeYeon (tripleS) x Male Reader (ft. Lee JiWoo)

Tags: smut, fluff, open relationship (potential poly), creampie, mommy kink, some rough rink

Word count: 10k

a/n: I've thought of this idea for a while, and I've only decided to write about it pretty recently. yeah, that's about it. I hope you enjoy this!

Friday. It’s past seven o’clock in the evening. For a while, howls and growls can be heard under the moonlight, but they’re not from wolves.

“Oooooooh, God… Yooouuuu're… so beau…nghh…tiful, even with your hair… tied up!”

They’ve been going for two hours, jumping each other’s bones since they’re fueled by intense libido and the primal desire to keep this burning pleasure as long as they can on the squeaking king-sized mint bed. It’s not the only spot in the apartment where they do it. There’s the couch, the bathroom, or even the kitchen counter. But for this couple, the bedroom is simply the best spot. As much as “vanilla” it may sound for some, there’s no denying its ultimate comfort and versatility for all sorts of possible, or near-impossible, steaming private activities that their bodies demand.

During this round, the woman has been grinding on his hips like he's a stallion, holding on to his shoulders with every ounce of her being while her cunt is being impaled by his dick in the past several minutes in one of their favorite positions to date.

“Thanks, ba…by… Ggghhh… Baby, you’re so good… inside… me… Ugh!”

“Mmm… Mahh…” he groans under his breath—almost drowning beneath her jiggling sweaty jugs as he maintains his rhythm with his lover and keeps his strength beneath her. “Moommy, fuck! How are you… still so… tight! It feels so…”

“Just keep… Going…” She undoes her bun, a flashy maneuver that suddenly embiggens his already erect member. “What..? Ugghhh!” she yelps at his surprise, but that’s not all.

His unthinkable urges impel him to take his mouth into her right tit, igniting a shriek of delight and a titter from the woman as he proceeds to suck it within seconds. “Oh, fuck! Hnngghh… Honggi... you naughty… boy!” She struggles to form phrases from the top of her breath while her occupied partner uses his hand to massage her left breast, rubbing it up and down with his fingers, a trick that he intensifies by using his pincer grasps to give her nipple a quick pinch. “Imma…”

Honggi’s mouth slowly parts from Chaeyeon’s knocker, leaving a trail of saliva, and asks her, “What… Is it?”

“I’m safe today, baby,” she whimpers right next to his left ear with a smirk. “And I’m… getting close.” And as a cherry on top, the woman leans near his left cheek and licks it.

Her words and action strikes through his nerve once again, giving him another quick boost for another minute. He knows exactly what she’s insinuating. “Me…” he grunts, feeling his thrusts within her decrease in speed in favor of strengthening his pounding. “Nggghhh… too!”

Their movements slowly take a halt, anticipating the warm build-up flowing and leaving their crotches. She holds his chin, leaning down to reward him with a kiss. He amplifies it by sliding his tongue in her submissive mouth, allowing a moment for them to sloppily clash together in the midst of their skins slapping. Five seconds later, Honggi bursts his load inside Chaeyeon’s womb, moaning in each other’s mouth as they’ve reached their respective climaxes.

They catch their breath, falling flat on the bed. “You did so good, baby," she wheezes before lying on her pillow. She places her hand on his chest. “You always have, oppa.”

“You do remember that we’re still the same age, Chae-yah,” he brings up with a snicker.

“Yeah, but oppa gets you up, doesn’t it?” she counters with a teasing tone, lightly pinching his nose. “‘Cause you’re still months older? Almost a year, even.”

“I don’t care what you call me, mommy,” he submits, gently stroking her hair sideways. “Here or outside.”

He kisses her forehead, inciting a giggle from her. She inches her head on to his chest, where the two relax and hear each other’s breathing for about fourteen minutes while they talk about their day, allowing Honggi to reflect on their mundane yet special past. About two years ago.

= = =

“So I wasn't too tipsy that night,” the woman cheered. “You really were from SSU too!”

He puts down his cup on the table. “I thought you were familiar too,” he pointed out.

She pointed her fingers. “You were the class clown from Tone’s friend group, right?”

“Yeah! And you, you…” He snapped his fingers four times, until more of his memories were reignited and much clearer. “Oh, right! You were that cute and clumsy girl from Tone’s club. The Dimension Beamers, was it?”

“Diamond Dreamers,” she corrected him with a chuckle, not even defending his claim. “Gosh, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name from someone.”

They went to the same university, but they weren’t that close. Mutual friends at best... The encounters they had were mostly teasing each other whenever their friend groups interact. But they have been coworkers for almost three years and, of course, one thing led to another, as cliché as that sounds. When they were promoted to a new team at the Cultivation Of Seoul Media Organization (COSMO) Broadcasting Station, the two felt a “spark” during their first post-college reunion. The day after their first team dinner, the pair chose to meet at a café in their company building during lunchtime.

“Right, right, that’s what I meant,” he replied. “Mianhae. You got a point. It’s been about six years since we graduated from Seoul State, so forgive my memory.”

“No worries. But, may I ask: how long have you been working here?” she asked. “I feel like I’ve seen you a few times before, but I’m sure if you were someone I crossed paths with.”

“I’ve only been here for a year, actually,” he clarified. “Though I’ve worked other jobs at other companies before I got here after Tone and some of my pals are here and gave their recommendations for the application. How about you?”

“About two years now. Got here on my own, but it wasn’t easy either. Company had more rounds of interviews for applicants in its early days.”

“Wow, you’re an OG employee… So that makes you my sunbae, then?” he teased.

“Yah!” she roared. We’re in the same year first during college… I’m not allowing that.”

“Fine, fine,” he yielded to her intimidating whine. “Besides, I don’t wanna get fired too.”

Chayeon only raised her eyebrow, much to her chagrin.

He inched his arms away from the table with vigilance. “Will I get fired for saying that?”

“Nah, relax…” she reassured him, before taking a sip of her iced americano with a slight smile. One of his statements from earlier still stuck in her mind. “So… I was that cute member, huh?” her smile grew into a smirk. “Don’t you think I’ve forgotten that.”

He gulped, coming up with anything off the top of his head to justify what he said. “It’s just from my memory. Have you not called yourself that word back in the day? I can still remember how confident you were with aegyos, even to people who weren't that close to you. You were practically a celebrity, just like the rest of your club.”

“That was pretty embarrassing. But those were some fun times,” she looked down and shook her head, before her mind recalled what she remembered about him. “And you…”

“What about me?” he countered with an alarmed tone before she could finish her statement. He must’ve thought of the most unflattering adjectives about himself.

“Don’t get so defensive all of the sudden, Mister,” she chortled. “For someone who was known as the clown in your group, I remember you had some charms and talents too, especially when you worked during the campus festival… You deserve to be here like everyone else, whether you got here through recommendations or not.”

“That is quite nice to hear, actually. Thanks.” He raised his right hand sideways, keeping his thumb apart from the rest. “I look forward to working with you, Chaeyeon-ssi.”

She took his hand, shaking it with her left. “Likewise, Honggi-ssi.”

They became friends, as expected, but even that wasn’t an easy path for them to take. The moment Honggi’s close friends and colleagues from his previous team heard the news of them hitting off, they went to him whenever he’s on his own several times— pestering him like insects flying on his radar, buzzing and whizzing around him, even though they were in different teams and floors apart.

“I know you’re kinda down bad,” his taller colleague assumed. “But are you sure you wanna go with Kim Chaeyeon?”

“Can’t you just go after someone else?” another one of his old deskmates chimed in.

“What about her, man?” Honggi wondered. “She seems pretty nice and approachable. Definitely more capable than me. I got to know her better, compared to when we’re in college. And besides… We’re just friends.”

“Another load of bullshit from you, man,” his taller one cackled. “Friends? Since when have you been friends with a woman, let alone at work?”

“Since Kotone? Since Suhyeon? Since Jayoon? Do you want me to go on?”

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands in defeat. “Fair enough, man.”

“And before you even ask,” Honggi continued with conviction. “No, I didn’t have the urge to sleep with them, you weirdos. Like I said, I’m just friends with Chaeyeon now.”

“Whatever you guys are right now,” the old deskmate added, telling him with a tone of concern. “There’s some things you don’t know about her.”

“That’s true,” the taller one hums in agreement. “It's better if you find some of the tea that she may not even spill by herself. Otherwise, you’ll regret it down the road.”

“Like what?” Honggi’s voice became a little louder. The two became daunted by him. 

He sees them as invasive. Despite the two of them being his friends for years, this was the first time he did not feel comfortable listening to their babbles about office drama. Ironically enough, he's no stranger to being an office gossiper himself back in the past. “Mianhae, guys,” he sighs. “Just spill it out. I'm sure it's not that big of a deal.”

“When she first worked here, she was more…” the deskmate scans through his mental thesaurus. “Promiscuous. That woman is wilder than she looks, man. As in more than you can imagine. But I don’t know, maybe she isn’t like that nowadays.”

“And?” he tilts his head. Hearing their persistence has been rubbing him the wrong way. “Her relationships should be the last of my business, let alone anyone else’s.”

“Whatever, man,” the taller colleague gives him a pat on his shoulder. “Just be careful when you’re dealing with that kind of woman… Especially if you’ve fallen for her.”

“Thanks, but umm,” Honggi scoffs at their warnings. Even though their overwhelming load of cautions made him a little worried, not for himself or even his own friends, but for Chaeyeon. “I think you guys are being overdramatic.”

“We just don’t want you to get hurt, dude. But if you’re still not convinced, you’ll see.”

Honggi heard the rumors from other colleagues about cases of cheating on her previous relationships, but Chaeyeon dismissed them, though whenever he got any close to being curious, she could only tell him responses like, “It’s, uhhhh, more complicated than that. But there was no cheating involved or anything.” Nevertheless, she was starting to enjoy his company over time, and so did he, in spite of all the misgivings he heard from other people around his workspace. A trust was strengthened through their bond ever since they felt that spark, prompting them to keep meeting each other from time to time.

The following months between the two were basically a game of “will-they-won’t-they?” Until the moment of truth came a year later. One had to finally make their first move.

“Hey, do you want to go to dinner?” Honggi approached her. “After work, that is?”

She placed her elbow on her desk, staring at him with a whimsical smile. “What is this, Lim Honggi-yah?”

“I’m just asking you out… For dinner,” he told her without any further details, making his tone sound casual. Just maybe a little too much. “I’m sure it’s not that different whenever we have lunch in this building. It’s just outside... Unless you have plans for tonight, then we can do it some other—”

“Loosen up,” she snorted a laugh due to his rapid pace. “I’m super free tonight… So, I would very much like that. You got any place in mind?”

“I was thinking if you have a suggestion,” he proposed. “Since you know this district a little better than I do.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

Even though he’s already thought of a comeback, Honggi tried to keep a straight face. “I’m, uhh, I’m just letting my sunbae do the honors.”

“Yah!” she exclaimed, leaving from her seat to chase off the running man across the room, before heading to the nearest pojangmacha outside their building. Honggi insisted that it would be his treat, so she took his words to heart.

“I’ll have a plate of gyeran-mari, a platter of tteokbokki, an odolppyeo-bokkeum, a bowl of eomukguk, and a bottle of makgeolli.”

“Okay,” the vendor turned her head to the man, whose eyes only widened at her orders. “How about you, son?”

“I… uhhh… I’ll have another bowl of eomukguk, and a roll of kimbap. Kamsahamnida.”

She chuckled at his reaction as soon as the vendor started preparing their orders. “I’ll pay for my orders, okay? Plus, they’re all meant to be shared, so you better help me out.”

“Of course,” he insisted. “But don’t worry, ‘cause I can still pay for them.”

“I haven’t eaten anything since lunch, so I don’t mind having a heavier meal tonight.”

He feels his own heart anguish, even unnecessary guilt, hearing her admit those words. “You should really stop skipping your meals, Chaeyeon-ah.”

“Gwenchana,” she shrugged his worries off with a cheery tone. “I rarely skip meals. Today was just an exception to that. I'm okay, Honggi.”

They didn't have a label for whatever they were, but they began dating, albeit in secret. Yes, they used the term dating, even if they weren’t “anything” at first, and even though he didn’t realize that she was hiding a few secrets from him for a while. Yet despite this, Honggi didn’t blame her, or even held an ounce of spite, when she told him the truth of most of the hearsays and rumors his own friends were warning him about. It's her life, he tells himself… I don't have to know everything, unless she tells me about it.

Knowing Chaeyeon, she confided in him some of the things that others would talk about her. How she experienced catcalling by others, had her own credits and contributions at her projects stolen or undermined by certain executives, and how she dealt with them in her two years at this company. Of course, she has her own close friends whom she could tell her secrets to outside of work, but with Honggi, it’s something new compared to a lot of things she has been going through at work lately. To her, he was a new ingredient that started spicing up her life at their workplace. He was a friend whose shoulders she could lean on. One she can call text or late at night, whether they're working on a team project, or talking about anything else. One who she can exchange jokes with without getting too offended. One who doesn’t laugh whenever she loses her balance on a slippery floor and rather, goes his way to help her back up, just before they laugh it off together. One that coyly tells her that she looks beautiful whenever she enters the office with a new look. That’s Honggi to Chaeyeon. It is the balance of feeling comfortable and the yearning which they have for each other.

But that first date was also the first time Chaeyeon decided to come clean with him.

More than an hour had passed inside the pocha. Most of their plates and bowls were emptied, with the leftovers already wrapped up, most notably Chaeyeon’s tteokbokki. Fees have been paid. But they still remain here, having longer talks and banters about whatever they can bring up until the clock reaches nine.

Reasonably, she felt hesitant at first. “Do you believe what they're saying about me?”

Honggi saw it in her eyes. The sense of dread she was trying to hide. Not to mention her cheeks looking more pinkish. Why does she kind of look like a peach? A really cute one, he wonders, just as he brushed off such an honest observation. He inched his hand on her fingers, hoping it would alleviate her unease. She looked down, feeling his gentle, electric touch. It’s that spark again. “I only believe what you tell me, Chaeyeon-ssi.”

“Honggi-yah. You know, you've only known me for a year,” she faced him with eyes ridden with guilt while wearing a somber smile. “That pales in comparison to your buddies at your old team. They basically welcomed you into this company.”

“Sure, they’re my friends,” he acknowledged. “But they don't know you either. They can call me a simp all they want. Maybe I am. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve known you enough to know that—”

She left her seat and inched closer to his face, kissing him for the first time, sending sparks throughout both their bodies at this moment. In her mind, she took a big risk... Within seconds, they feel and taste each other’s lips, unavoidably exploring the flavors of their meals, yet they savor each, from tangy to savory. Their lips part, Honggi opens his eyes, frozen in disbelief. His breathing becomes a little heavier at first, yet a stream of relief and excitement follows from him.

“I guess that’s one thing they, or you, didn’t know about me.”

“They did tell me,” slipped from his mouth, but immediately covered himself with his hand. “Though I didn’t mean to ruin this moment. I tried to ignore them, but I couldn’t forget when they said that you’d be…”

“What?” she questioned, her monotone voice striking panic through him.

“Promiscuous?” he confessed in embarrassment. “Mianhae. That's what they told me.”

She let out a giggle. “Don’t be… I kinda expected just that,” her sultry tone and grin remained. Her fingers trailed up his sleeve, sending a chilling sensation down his spine. “But… Feeling is different from knowing, don’t you agree?”

He nodded with an embarrassed smile. Before the silence of the night breeze could have overtaken their moment, Honggi made the next move while Chaeyeon smiled and closed her eyes in anticipation of this moment.

In the months that followed, Honggi and Chaeyeon have gone on dates at either fancy or simple restaurants, watched movies at the theater, given each other gifts and bouquets on occasions, and taken walks to plenty of parks and museums, like most couples. For indoors, they hang out at each other’s places, where they cook, cuddle, wheedle, or watch TV and—for the most part—having stress relieving sex after work, which has pretty much become a tradition for the pair during weekends—if their limbs aren’t sore because of it, to say the least.

= = =

This Friday evening, they’re in Chaeyeon's apartment. Her bed is starting to reek of sex. Their mixed sweat and juices long splattered across the bed sheets, with their breathing bouncing across the room. Both their stamina and fuel to keep going have been drained, although their requited satisfaction is off the charts. Neither of them may be able to top their performance this week in the next few days. Although they have had wilder times, tonight’s one of their most passionate ones so far, but that doesn’t come as a surprise.

They suddenly hear a ringtone at the door, followed by a click, since they never closed the bedroom door. Honggi gets up from the bed, freezing on alert, but Chaeyeon’s lips only curve upwards with anticipation. Based on her face, he understands just who the person from the other side is. The only other resident of this astonishing abode. A tall woman in a grey blazer and black slacks.

“Jagiya," Chaeyeon, now in her blue robe, exits the bedroom with her usual sweet tone as she walks up to her girlfriend at the foyer. “You’re home!”

“Hi, unnie,” Jiwoo’s smile reciprocates her girlfriend’s, although the tone of her voice is a little weaker. “You may wanna get a hold of yourself a little longer. Imma shower for a bit. The train tonight was more crowded than usual.”

“I don’t care how smelly you are now,” she retorts, proving her words with a kiss to Jiwoo’s left cheek. “Plus, I don’t think our scents are that different now, hmm..?”

The woman smirks, slowly trailing her fingers up the collar of Chaeyeon’s robe to take a peek of her bare body. “If that’s the case, then why don’t you join me in the shower?”

“I much as I would love that,” she tells her, giving her another peck on her right cheek. “I think you should go ahead first, babe.”

“Oh, right,” her mouth slightly gapes, realizing what she meant. “Mianhae. We have a guest, after all. I didn’t even notice.”

“Don’t apologize,” Chaeyeon holds her hands. “You’re looking a little tired, Juju-yah. Better get some rest first, arachi?”

Honggi exits the room, now wearing his shirt and boxers. Sitting on the couch with his phone, he watches them kiss and embrace with passion. Even he can tell the warmth of their years of care and love for each other, acknowledging well that this pair predates whatever he and she has. Sure, he may come off as a third wheel, but it’s not the first time he’s entered this awkward situation whenever he’s with both of them.

Tossing her messenger bag on the couch, she slouches on the furniture herself to take a breather, the tall woman takes a look at the man with a polite smile yet insouciant eyes, Jiwoo makes a little effort by raising her right hand to wave at him once she has turned on the television. “Hey, Honggi-ssi.”

Honggi bows his head with a sheepish smile. “Hey, Jiwoo-ssi. How’s your day?”

“Oh, you know. Business as usual,” she pouts. “The studio was less occupied tonight… But, surprisingly enough, the bakery had more customers than usual. We even had to delay its closure by thirty minutes… How’s yours?”

For hours, he had almost forgotten. This is far from an ordinary relationship. A lot of couples have become more open-minded, mostly for the better, yet not every couple is open like Chaeyeon and Jiwoo. He recalls their third date, when she came clean about the thrilling and intriguing nature of his lover’s relationship with someone else.

= = =

Back to six months ago, right after the heat of the moment. It was their eighth kiss at the garden, located outside the restaurant they just dined at. It was a romantic memory for both of them, butterflies and all that. For Chaeyeon, it felt like she entered the Garden of Eden every time they locked lips, or felt each other’s tongue trying to slide in. However, as soon as their eyes meet again, she pulls the elephant back inside their room almost immediately to remind him of her pressing concern, at least for his sake.

“That was, wow... But, um, you clearly weren't paying attention to what I just told you, oppa, which, by the way, I've told you about seven times on separate occasions, yet it’s always like that’s no big deal to you.”

Even though it was her plan to come clean since their first date, Honggi’s reaction has somewhat bothered her often. He seems too chill about it, she described his behavior. She confessed to having a girlfriend during their second date, but he only took it well. Way too well. That’s why she keeps pressing him about her revelation whenever they spend time outside of work.

“That just means that I’ve listened to you loud and clear, Chaeyeon-ah,” he comforted her with a gentle caress to her cheek, making Chaeyeon look down out of meekness. Even if kissing or simply touching her should have felt like taking a lot of bites of the forbidden fruit, Honggi’s heart and mind are willing to submit to such a sweet sensation.

But, with his accepting words, she realized something. Just like how he waited for her and comforted her until she opened up, maybe she proved herself that she’d be just as willing to do the same for Honggi, if she wants to make him stay and make things work with the man she has fallen for.

“I don't care if you have a girlfriend, another boyfriend, or another lover,” he continued. “I don't mind if that's just how you live and love. I mean… If you do feel the same way for me—I don’t know, maybe that's enough for us, don’t you think? And it’s not like you’re cheating on your girlfriend, is it?”

“Of course, not,” she looked back at him. “I meant what I said. Jiwoo and I have been ‘open’ for a while now, and it’s been going well for both of us. For the most part.”

“For the most part?” he repeated, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

“We can’t always be lucky,” she shrugged. “But my point is, my girlfriend and I tell each other whoever we’re interested in… So you shouldn’t be worried about that, Honggi.”

“Well, I think any other person who could’ve been with you now, would’ve been lucky,” he contemplated. “I just happened to be that man this time.”

“Are you just saying that so you can finally get in my pants?” she cooed.

“Definitely not,” he inched away and crossed his arms, wanting to appear classier to her. “Unless you want that, I’m a patient man.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “What a gentleman you are.”

“I’m serious… I like what we have now, Chaeyeon-ah.” His speech reverted back to a serious one. “But if you don't want me to be in your life a little more often, then I can understand that. We can stay friends, if you’d like it—”

She put her index finger on his lips. He sees her alluring smile slowly forming.

“Of course, I'm serious too. It’s our third date, silly,” she took another step closer, triggering a sudden gulp in his throat. “You have no idea how much I want you, Honggi-yah.”

They rented a motel room, agreeing not to introduce each other’s places just yet. “It’s still a bit too messy,” Honggi defended his reasoning, though Chaeyeon’s reason was, “Jiwoo-yah will be surprised to see me taking someone home while she’s around and besides… I'm all yours tonight.”

Despite their previous dates becoming more and more intimate, they haven’t done anything beyond second base because of Chaeyeon’s hesitation. About how Honggi would react once she tells him about their open relationship, or finds that out from  some of the blabbermouths at work. Thankfully, she had chosen the former route.

As soon as they arrived inside their motel room, Chaeyeon hungrily jumped on Honggi, whom he caught with lustful enthusiasm. As they made out unrestrained, their tongues danced in harmony, tasting each other without delay while he held on to her hips and waist, as his fingers explored her curves with curiosity. The pair might have enjoyed each other’s mouth more than the expensive meals they had that night.

His right hand finds its way on her bottom, giving her right cheek a slow squeeze, which broke their kiss with a moan from the woman. He’s found more of her sensitive zones.

About ten minutes had passed of exploring each other's mouth and the curve of their body, and they slowed down and took off each other’s attire. From the bottom to top, Honggi slowly unbuttoned her sleeve, digging in his lips down her neck the more her skin was exposed, licking and tasting the woman as if she's producing nectar. “Hnghh…”

Condoms were located inside the nightstand. Thank God for love motels, Honggi sighed, but, as Chaeyeon unbuttons his pants, a thought still bothered him. And it bothered him if he didn’t tell her the truth about this information sooner.

“I… haven’t done this in a while,” the man stutters, instinctively scratching his head.

“It’s okay…. Let me,” she whispers. She unlocks her blue bra with an alluring smirk, revealing her voluminous breasts to her partner. Honggi becomes stunned, like a stun grenade was just dropped in front of his eyes, a pair that blinds him with lust and thirst.

The man looks at her with a veil of caution, suppressing his true excitement. “May I?”

She nodded, and he leaped in for the attack, nibbling and sucking her bosom. “Oh, fuck.” While Chaeyeon can only hum and whimper as Honggi pleasured her with his mouth. Despite her eyes closing in bliss, her hand creeped all the way down his erect crotch, but that didn't stop him from savoring each of her plump rack like it’s dessert. “Yes, that's it… You know your thing, baby,” she purred with her eyes closed.

But Honggi stopped for a second. A bulb lit up in his head. No need to rush this.

“Let me take the lead, if you don't mind,” he tells her. She nods, before he latches his lips onto hers. His left hand stays firm on her breast, massaging them with circular motions, with his right hand being deployed down her clit. Testing the waters, he puts one finger in her, suddenly triggering a whimper of surprise from her. The second finger followed inside, igniting the moan that he couldn’t get enough of. If that wasn’t enough for her, he deploys the third finger to do another trick. His right thumb latched beside the clit, making a limited up and down motion. “God… You devious son of a… gun!”

After giving her a deeper kiss, his lips trailed down her neck, collarbone, chest once again, curves, and belly button. He bowed on one knee until his gaze reached the level of his destination, her nether regions, in between her thick thighs. As Honggi start to eat Chaeyeon out, she couldn’t stop moaning while her hands kept fighting on whether to grip Honggi’s wavy hair or the cover of the mattress.

He stopped, giving Chaeyeon a sense of disappointment. He looked up to her. “Mianhae, but I just wanna say… Go ahead, Chae, pull my hair.”

The woman exhaled a smile, speechless and astonished by his openness to her much rougher habits.

After giving his permission to his lover, he went through his techniques, blowing into it with his warm breath before slowly licking her inner thighs to amplify her anticipation. With his tongue, he starts circling her clit from side to side, up and down, repeating the process through different variations. Each lick and swirl triggers a different note from the woman’s voice, increasing the intensity of her moans from minute to minute. Her right hand latched on to his hair.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, fuck!” she cried out in glee. The rush of feeling his mouth savoring her cunt only made her curse louder, not wanting for this sensation to stop, even if her juices begin to leak. Minutes went by as she howled in his efforts with little intervals of silence, and she could feel herself reaching her maximum capacity. Like a cup overflowing with liquid. “Baby, fuck! I'm getting close… I can't hold it—”

She looked up to the heavens and reached her orgasm, splashing her milky fluids on his face. And unsurprisingly, it would be far from the last on this night. Chaeyeon caught her breath, and opened her eyes to find Honggi’s creamed face. Realizing what she's done, she apologized to him. However, he licked whatever was left on his hand, much to her surprise, yet Chaeyeon didn’t have him to have the fun all by himself. She cupped his face and pulled him closer, sticking her tongue out and licking her own juice, starting down his chin up to his left cheek. “Holy,” Honggi could only mutter in awe, before she pulled him for a kiss. Moments have passed, the main show has now arrived. With the condom completely wrapped around his member, they both lie down on the bed.

Now, it’s her turn to make an effort to please Honggi, sitting on his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. Fueled by excitement, she aligned her entrance with his shaft, while Honggi exhaled with anticipation at her initiative.

Clearing her throat at the sight of it, she inched her body until his tip faced her entrance. Oh, I'm not sure if I can handle this, she thinks at the spectacle of his own cock. It might not be the longest she has seen, but his girth made her speechless. Her reaction was split between intimidation and appetite. However, while Chaeyeon salivated at his cock with her stare, it was Honggi who continued the formalities amidst her hesitation. “Can I?”

“Do the honors,” she husked. Honggi received her blessing. With a deep breath, his manhood entered inside her slit. Chaeyeon felt hair stand up all over her body, yet she maintained her own composure while her hole welcomed his lover’s key. He slowly pushed his penis, deeper and deeper within.

Despite submitting to the woman's lead, his rod finally found more of her pleasurable zones inside her womb, the longer he inched himself more forward within Chaeyeon’s tightening embrace, who squealed right next to his ear just as his yonic expedition had reached the end.

“I never expected it to happen like this,” he confessed while easing on his grinding.

“Me… ngggnnneither.” Savoring his shaft, she leaned in and peppered a few kisses on his forehead, an action that made him chuckle. “But I'm glad… that it's like thisss.”

In search of something familiar and comforting in this intense session, their eyes ended up crossing paths again. Lust and love clashed through their body and mind, but Honggi feels conflicted about whether he should praise or eroticize her, in all of her naked glory. “You’re so cute. So hardworking. So smart… So fucking beautiful, Chaeyeon. You're so…” Regardless, he couldn't help but do both in such a crazed and stimulating moment. “Fuck!”

“What?” a grin crept on her face. His unorganized words were music to her ears, but she wanted more. “Go on, baby. Come on, say it to me.”

He found a new side of this woman. And she was right, about what she told him during their first date.

“You’ve imagined me naked before, haven’t you?”

Caught by her question, Honggi thought of those moments. He's only a man, after all. Even before they became more intimate, he had instances of finding her attractive. For starters, her face. To him, Chaeyeon is what they would call a visual. He once asked why she didn't become an idol or model for a living, though she shrugged him off. Her two memorable hairstyles. Her butt when she dropped her folder on the floor one time. Her cleavage, during their dates. Even her mannerisms often make him feel things. But even then, he would stop himself from entertaining any other thoughts. Now that their story is different, he only groaned with pleasure, coordinating his movement with her grinding. She tilted her head at his lack of words, sensing that he's become distracted by his thoughts while his body’s on autopilot. “Hmm… You’re not answering, baby.”

“It’s different… Feeling you is much more different,” he admitted his thoughts.

“How different?” She encouraged him, surprised he even remembered those same words from months back.

“You’re so…” his thrusts hardened. “Fucking hot. Hotter than I could… Imagine!”

She bit her lower lip. “Atta…boy.”

Their rhythm reaches synchronicity. He says his praises along with his powered plunges. The woman created a graceful and dynamic symphony with her moans, holding onto his back with eagerness, burying her fingernails on his trapezius whenever he reached more spots to stimulate as his cock moved in and out inside her.

She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Chaeyeon hasn't felt pleasure like this in years. Sure, she might have a girlfriend before him, but there's just something different with this sensation. Not better or worse. Just new. And she doesn't want to let it go, let him go, especially at this moment. Yet unlike most of the folks she has dated and slept with, there's action and power to his words. Even at this pace, she wanted to test his attention.

“Slap my ass,” she rasped, clasping her hands around his back a little tighter to maintain her motion.

“Huh?” his rhythm slowed down as he leaned his ear closer.

“Do it, baby!” she whined, feeling her insides getting stretched. “Just slap my—”

Honggi did what he’s told. He raised his right palm and tapped her right butt cheek while it kept bouncing on, along with its other half.

She's not too impressed. She barely felt it. “Harder,” she purred. “Was that a tickle?”

A nerve was struck there. Even if she was doing it to get him worked up, his ego took it as not being good enough. Failing to satisfy her. Like with his own exes. Thus, he only pushed himself to prove her wrong. He slapped her butt again, now with double the speed. Some impact was felt, and it amused her. “Heh… You're… getting there.”

Goaded and aroused by her taunts, he cranked up his strength level and tripled his speed, raising his hand for the third time, now spreading his fingers apart, and smack! Honggi’s slap sent a surge of stimulation throughout the rest of her body—from her skin to her most sensitive spots—and he followed it up with four more slaps in similar levels.

“Oooooooooohh, fuck!” she howled with delight, feeling the reverb down her buttocks. Pleased by his own results, he celebrated by licking her neck and nibbling on her right nipple, forcing the woman to muffle her continuous moans with a lip bite. “Don’t stop that... hmm? It feels… too good.”

“You deserve everything good, Chae-yah,” he returned to praising her. “You deserve the fucking best!”

“Then do I deserve… This big cock inside me?” she wailed. “Do I, Honggi-yah?”

“You deserve it, mommy,” he moaned, giving his best and hardest to please her with his member through rougher thrusts. “This cock is made… just for you. And a lot more!”

Those words were the final straw in the stacks of sensation she's feeling. “I’m… close!”

His ego prompted him to say the same thing and lie to her, but even his thrilled and exhilarated body answered otherwise, insisting that he kept on pounding the woman with all his might. “Do it, Chae,” he cheered on, choosing to listen to his body to keep going, while his partner was already nearing her completion.

And as Chaeyeon hit a high and long note at the top of her lungs, Honggi felt the warm stream of juices burst out her vagina, even from the veil of the latex barrier protecting his rod. Still moving his own hips forward inside her womb, Honggi was more than happy that she reached her climax for a second time, even if his ego was already disappointed that he couldn’t do it at the same time as hers, since he himself was now close to releasing. Another skill issue, his own inner ego mocked him, but he was rarely bothered, knowing that he's next.

“Fill me up, baby!” she commanded. “It's… your… reward, for being so good in me.”

He knows what she means, even if he really can't literally do what she asked this time. Not tonight, anyways. He also moaned the moment he busted all his semen inside the condom, though his volume paled in comparison to the woman's. Feeling his cum to be taking a little longer to unload, he pulled his cock out of her. As both slowed down along with their breathing, such an experience put a smile of fulfillment on both their faces.

“Maybe next time,” he gasped, falling on the bed beside her.

“Mianhae, baby,” she caressed his left cheek with a pout. “It’s our first time, and you did so well… But, I didn't even ask if you were close.”

He cupped her face and leaned closer to kiss her lips, reassuring her. “Don't be, Peachy… I'm just happy I even managed to please you.”

She raised an eyebrow, but his words and action put a beam of appreciation on her face. “You got a nickname for me now?”

His flight-or-fight response activated, more on the former. “You don't like it?”

“I do. And it's nice,” she hummed. “It’s, umm, similar to what my girlfriend calls me.”

Chaeyeon's words suddenly sent an unexpected reaction down Honggi's member. Her eyes darted at his erection with lustful interest. “What the hell?” he murmured, rising from the bed in surprise. The woman followed his movement until they're both seated.

“I know you're a bit disappointed… for not finishing with me,” she teased. Her hands stroke his cock up and down, slowly lowering her head to its level, mirroring his actions earlier. “But I'll make it up to you, oppa… The night's still young, hmm?”

Staring at his now erect cock, she licked the remains of his cum off his tip clean, sending tingles through his spine. She proved her point. Honggi could only watch and groan at her determined display, before answering her with, “Well… It's your call, mommy.”

That night was the first, second, third, and fourth times they’ve had sex. In retrospect, the first one was definitely far from their best one—but so are most first times, though admittedly, it can be said that it was better than most, especially since they had a few more rounds that exceeded the last. All in one night, Honggi had his balls deep inside Chaeyeon several times, and she savored every second, minute, and hour of it—even if they used protection the whole night. For starters, they ended up doing more than one position. The missionary, lotus, cowgirl, and some of which are mixed variations of the previous ones, along with a few more.

Half an hour has passed. They sprawl next to each other on the memory foam mattress. Their eyes lock in the silence, sensing the satisfaction, endearment, and warmth in each other’s smile, gaze, and touch, respectively, while they gasp for breath—in a similar way one would after partaking in track and field, gymnastics, swimming, and weightlifting, perhaps combined with other sports, all at the same time.

They've finally reached the remaining bases of physical intimacy in their relationship. In fact, they’ve hit the homerun, as some call it. In the afterglow of their vehement rounds, both players felt like winners on each one in this game, which felt both competitive and a team play, which is what it actually is.

“You… told me… you haven't done this… in a…” Chaeyeon huffed and puffed, holding on to his shoulder. “While.”

“And you said you’ve only known… A few positions,” he fired back, caressing her hand. “What was… all that?”

“That was a few,” she exhaled with a smug grin. Her hand moved to his chest, giving his pecs a few tickles.

His tiring eyes and smile widened at such a remark, sensing a tingle down there. “Does that mean there’s more?”

“Hmm…” she squinted her eyes at him, her breathing slowly back to normal. “I never expected for you to be such a perv, oppa. You’re gonna need a little more discipline.”

“Bring it on,” he goaded her, aroused and intimated by her playful warning. He and his member readied up to what she had to offer.

Driven by their untameable lust, their next few rounds came right after that minute.

After that night, the man would enter Chaeyeon's life a lot more often. In ways more than one. From restaurant dates to traveling, their romantic and sexual adventures began. Honggi would sometimes wonder how their relationship would have worked, considering the fact that they’ve only been meeting three and half times a week but he eventually understood and adapted, both on his own and from Chaeyeon’s comforting words. Meanwhile, the other half of the schedule would be dedicated to her girlfriend.

Every week, he would spend more time with her on the last three days of the week, with Jiwoo being her priority in the first half. However, nothing is ever final, as they tend to switch on the next one or even overlap at times. That’s when Chaeyeon mediated their introduction as both of her lovers. It is a rare situation for someone to introduce their girlfriend to their new boyfriend and vice versa, but it happened to the three of them. They were properly introduced on a Saturday morning—their third month of dating.

For this significant occasion, they met at a cafe that was nearest to their apartment.

“Jiwoo-yah, this is Honggi,” Chaeyeon gestured with her hands. “Honggi-yah, this is Jiwoo.”

Awkwardness was inevitable but as Chaeyeon recalls it, it was one of the most awkward she has ever felt from them, even reconsidering whether it was a good idea to introduce them in the first place, since their schedules were working with little to no problem. But she was impressed that he still pushed through with it like a champ, just like Jiwoo did.

Honggi finally met Chaeyeon’s woman for the first time since college. “Oh, it really is you…” Recognizing her at first glance, he straightened his posture and bowed to her. His cup of coffee remains untouched. “Annyeonghaseyo, Jiwoo-ssi.”

“Told you he’d recognize me,” she murmured next to her girlfriend. Jiwoo bowed to him seconds later, before taking a sip of her iced tea through the flexible silicone straw.

“That’s great!” Yet Chaeyeon still perseveres. As stubborn as she may seem, she wants this to work out. The man she has fallen for has been nothing but great to her, and she wants her beloved to see that in some capacity. “I hope you two will get along together, because we will be seeing each other more often. I know we have our own schedules on meeting each other, but since you two agreed with me on this...”

= = =

After ten minutes of small talk with the other woman in the living room, he returns back to his girlfriend’s room. His doubts and self-inadequacy mandates him to dress up in his outerwear and call it a night. Although he likes their company, he doesn't know what else to do.

But just as Honggi is facing the present with a few hints of doubt, he takes a deep sigh. Chaeyeon has read his mind and places her right hand on his cheek. “Look, oppa... I'm not asking you to simply shag her or whatever," she tells him casually. “She can do that with whoever she likes. She's a strong, independent woman.”

“I know she is,” her words throw him off guard. This is indeed a new territory for him, but he still went on because he knew he liked this woman in front of him. “But I'm not even considering that—And I don't.”

“Sure,” she laughs at his defensive reaction. “But you gotta admit, she’s gorgeous.”

Honggi takes a glance at Jiwoo from the dining table, laughing loudly and unabashedly at whatever she’s watching on her phone, something that contrasts his first impression of her. That’s one trait of hers that he hasn’t forgotten since all three of them started to hang out in this apartment. “She really is.”

“See?” her voice raises with enthusiasm. “Babe, you do find her attractive!”

“That was a test?” he scoffs in disbelief. “I mean that, from an objective standpoint.”

“Maybe, I'm just kidding.” She tilts her head to the side. “Maybe I’m not. We’ll see.”

“Yah…” he lowers his voice. “You’re scaring me for a bit.”

“Babe, loosen up a bit…” she tries to woo him with her kittenish voice. “Jiwoo doesn’t really hate you or anything. Far from it. It's okay for both of you to take things slow... Slower than we have, if you must.”

He can only ponder about his own decision while he listens to Chaeyeon, knowing well that she is still saying her piece. She's worth it, he realizes.

“But the truth is, she hasn’t seen anyone in a while,” she elaborates. “Her last ex didn’t bother calling her again because I said no to having a foursome with one of his friends. Pigs, that’s what they were.”

Immersed and touched by their experience, Honggi halts any considerations of leaving. With whatever they have now, he doesn't want to mess everything up, especially when she, nay, they need him around. “He didn't respect you enough, Chae. Both of you... That was his loss.”

“Thank you, babe,” she reaches both his cold hands, warming it up with her touch. “And with what I said about Jiwoo…”

“It's okay. Whatever happens, I promise I’m not gonna be like that asshat,” he assures her. “Or any other asshats you’ve dealt with in the past… Just because we're both your lovers, that doesn't mean we have to be selfish.”

“I know you won't,” her body sways with elation, charmingly swinging her arms with his. “But I also know you've been eyeing her for a while now. This is nothing new for us.”

“I…uhh… What do you mean? I thought we’ve gone through this.” He has nothing else to retort. His inner demon arises due to her teases, while he recalls the moments she might have brought back to him. Moments where he found something in common with Jiwoo.

And with that, he realizes: that's the thing about dating someone who's already in a committed relationship. It's not always easy. Even monogamous ones aren’t either.

From his eyes, Jiwoo isn't too fond of him being around when the three of them are together, even if their girlfriend doesn’t even want him to leave the apartment until he really has to go. At times, he may even be jealous of Jiwoo too, even if he doesn’t admit it to her. Maybe he’s just insecure, or that he is also falling for her. But he knows that’s not his right. Plus, he also suggested going through this complex relationship to begin with and even now, he doesn’t want to give up on her. On them. He’ll do whatever it takes.

“And besides,” she leans right in his left ear. “It's not the first time we've shared someone... I’m sure you’ve considered that.”

They hear Jiwoo slightly raising her voice from the living room. Having finished her quick shower, she’s now in a casual get-up: an oversized pink T-shirt and cargo pants. “Unnie, I’m heading out for a bit. Just gonna buy some groceries at the CVS. Is there anything you both need?”

“Wait here for a minute,” Chaeyeon advises Honggi—which he nods without any look of complaint—before heading to her girlfriend. “What’s the rush, Juju? Can’t we just order them online, like we used to?”

“I can, but… I wanna go outside,” she doubles down on her decision. “It’s more efficient that way, since we’re gonna be cooking dinner tonight.”

“It’s not about Honggi, is it?” she murmurs, even showing her puppy eyes at her.

She shakes her head. “No, no, unnie. I thought we'd talked about this. I like Honggi-ssi as your boyfriend. He’s probably the best one you’ve had since… Forever, actually.”

Chaeyeon inches closer, lovingly kissing her girlfriend. “You really think that, babe?”

“Of course. It’s been six months with no red flags, hasn’t it? Not to mention the fact that you were friends for a year before hitting it off. Besides, it’s my excuse to get some fresh air,” Jiwoo whispers to her beloved with a tempting smirk. “You two have fun, because time’s ticking, unnie.”

Meanwhile, Chaeyeon’s reminder triggers two opposing effects in Honggi, arousal down there and insecurity up in his ego. He knows that relationships don't always stay “lovey dovey” or remain in its honeymoon phase, especially with something like theirs. Way before Chaeyeon, he has never been the best at keeping his relationships very long, but considering the fact that they’re already six months strong, Honggi may as well keep on savoring this special and fascinating situation, even if Chaeyeon may not feel the same level as he does in his heart. He'll do it for her. He'll befriend Jiwoo and respect her in the same way he treats their girlfriend, perhaps just platonically… Only time will tell.

Chaeyeon returns inside the room, meeting Honggi with a more optimistic expression. “You look cheerful. Is there anything I should know?”

“I actually have thought about what you said, Chae,” he avows, slowly taking her hand. “I'll try and get to know Jiwoo. I’ll make a little more effort to say the least.”

“Thank you…” she pecks him on his cheek. “You won't regret it, oppa.”

Their lips touch. A little longer and a lot more tender this time. As they part steadily, Chaeyeon’s eyes hunger at the sight of his erect cock, and she wants to return the favor to his body’s involuntary action. “Oh, hello... Wanna go another round, baby?" she coos, untying the strings of her bathrobe, revealing her naked curves as it falls to the floor.

Honggi grins and attacks her lips, initiating another steamy makeout session. She takes off his shirt while he strips off his boxers, before walking each other on the bed. As he slowly lays her down, the hunger in their eyes match. He's on top this round, slowly inserting his cock inside her shaven cunt once more while she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs on his. Even though he’s feeling her walls tighten around his member a little stronger than before, he persists, maintaining a gentle yet fast pace, igniting a whimper of euphoria from Chaeyeon. An instance of déjà vu that always sends her to a higher plane of pleasure with his touches.

He leans down to peck his lover’s lips. “What level would you like from me, mommy?” he whispers in her right ear. More than half of his length is already inside her womb.

“Go all in, baby,” she pleads, instead of teasing and taunting him like she usually does.

Receiving the green light from her, the man begins his thrusts, inserting his final inches inside Chaeyeon. Accelerating in its speed with every second, motivated by the mindset of pleasing his woman more than himself. As he keeps pounding his girlfriend, she ups the ante by reaching to his chest and licking the sweat off his pecs and neck while her erroneous regions feel more than satisfied by the invasion of his throbbing member.

Watching her breasts bounce once again never fails to keep his cock alive, but nothing beats the act he’s about to do. He leans down once again, kissing her for the hundredth time. She reciprocates, doing the trick that always gets him up and going. Only this time, she lets him do it. As his tongue reaches inside her mouth, Honggi demonstrates his dominance by slowly creating circular motions, swaying her tongue in a sticky dance until a louder moan of submission can be heard from her.

Their lips part, though the trail of saliva breaks while his pounding of her continues. He looks at his beloved, feeling his increased heart rate. She opens her eyes a little wider; a smile forms on her face while feeling the surface beneath her tremble with their grinds.

“Daddy,” leaves her mouth, much to his surprise. “Mommy… is loving you inside her so… Much!”

This may be the first time he's heard that name from her, motivating him to amp up his pumps, regardless of his arms and legs getting sore. Her praise makes him flex his core muscles the longer he’s on top of her, realizing that this position was a plank exercise. A better experience than his usual reps, that is. “I’m glad… I'll do even better… Next time… Mommy!”

“You’re already… doing great… Thank you,” she applauded him, feeling his tip rub her cervix over and over again. “Just keep… doing that… next time. Dom… Dominate momma, please!”

“Ne,” he still submits, nodding rapidly with the rhythm of his hips.

Even while getting pounded, an inflamed idea pops in her mind. “Imagine if… Jiwoo gets to be here with us, oppa,” she sticks her tongue out. “How crazy is that, right? You, inside her… Just like you, inside me now. How… you’d do… us. On this same bed—”

“Whaa..? Hnnnggghh!” They both yelp at his persistent knob slightly growing inside her chambers. Closing his eyes, a part of his mind tries to stop himself from imagining what she stated, but his lust has beaten him to it. “Do you… Mean?”

“You… Know what I… mean,” she purrs, leaving kisses and nibbles on his left shoulder along the way to mutually stimulate her partner. “Clearly… your junior… does.” With it, she spread her legs wider, inciting a “Fuck!” from her while getting railed.

There’s no point in denying to Chaeyeon now, so Honggi simply keeps his mouth shut, giving his main focus on pleasuring her. They would continue grinding on for several more minutes, exchanging each other's moans, groans, teases, and quips like primitives who have only learned modern-day language through the act of sex, that is, until they eventually reach past their limit. Beyond what their bodies can handle on this bed.

“Imma… Gonna…” he grunts, hoping that she would get his unintelligible message.

“Me… tooooo!” she only rasps in agreement. “You.. know… where… to… do it!”

For the second time, Honggi has filled Chaeyeon up to the brim with his warm seed. They’ve reached a state beyond the garden, beyond cloud nine. One as ethereal as the heavens or as perverted as hell. The position reminds them with a reminder: simple is sometimes, if not a lot of times, better. Despite the out-of-world orgasms they just felt, they're brought back to their senses seconds later, in each other's arms. The last ounce of their juices continue leaking on the mattress pad. Should've put a protector in there, Chaeyeon ponders while she laughs by herself. She just had it washed six days ago, after three months of using it. A lesson is learned. She'll just have to keep in her urges a little longer next time they even plan on using the bed in the weeks to come.

Still, she doesn't regret doing it here, especially with the man that’s been making her heart flutter and her nethers tingle twenty-four-seven. Catching their breath for about the nth time, they’ve now agreed to stop for tonight.

“I–uuhh… I… Wanna…” she pants, unable to form her words during her state of awe, still recovering from a breathtaking last orgasm, seconds ago. “Babe… I wanna say…”

“I love… you,” Honggi mumbles. As he thought before, even if she doesn’t feel the same way. It’s better that he lets her know now. Wherever this will lead into. “I know that’s… too soon to say that, but—”

She shuts him up with a kiss, holding back a smile as their lips collided, cherishing this milestone in their relationship. As they part, she follows up two tender pecks, showing her reciprocation. “Dummy, you took my line… I love you too, Honggi-yah.”

His deepest self-doubts have just been proven wrong right there. Perhaps hers were too. Everything becomes clearer, as their heartbeat grows louder, singing in the same range. She gently strokes his hair, reminding him that they both have little left to worry about. Even if it'll be far from the last of his problems, he won't be alone to face a lot of them.

“I’m home!” Jiwoo exclaims from the living room. She walks to the kitchen and places her stacked bag of groceries on the counter. The portion of ingredients she has bought appears to be more than enough to feed them tonight. “Again, I mean,” she murmurs.

“We’ll be out in a moment!” Chaeyeon howls back, dressing up in her clothes alongside Honggi. They can't help but exchange smiles and giggles, hurrying their movement before Jiwoo’s patience can run out. “Don’t you dare start cooking without us!”

“Not a chance! I'm gonna need all the help I can get from you two. Otherwise, you’ll both be eating outside.”

= = =

hello again! if you've reached this ending, then I'll only say that this only the first part to this miniseries. on another note, I will create my masterlist soon, which I will be updating whenever a new work is out. thanks for the read and follow. have a wonderful day!

[bewaryofpity]

OH YOU DEVIOUS LITTLE FREAK!!! i am begging for "It’s my thigh or nothing. I’m not helping you get off" for nico. you know exactly where my brain is at. i need this. i deserve this. do what you were put on this earth to do 👹👹👹

fine, here, take it 🙄

16. “It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you get off.”

.

For some reason Nico thought it was a great idea to only pack the shortest swim trunks he had in his closet for your short holiday before the regular hockey season would start again. The first day was fine, the second one just as good, but now he had a golden tan and those thighs looked way too good to be left alone.

You couldn’t help but admire him as he was lying on the sunbed, skin glistening after taking a swim in the pool you were currently in. You laid your forearms by the pool edge, resting your chin on them as you intensely looked at your boyfriend peacefully tanning and blissfully unaware of the dirty thoughts that were clouding your reason.

This wasn’t unexplored grounds for you two, he did make you get off his thighs many times before, but his muscles were bigger now, or so they looked so to you, his skin was perfect, and his hair was getting golden.

You licked your lips as he shifted his leg a bit to the side, getting a better view of his inner thighs, and you thought he was doing this on purpose.

“I can feel you staring, you know.” He said, a smirk growing on his lips.

You giggled, a small blush creeping on your cheeks. “I’m just enjoying my view.”

He brought his arms underneath his head, cracking one eye open to look at you despite the sun shining on him. He mumbled a small c’mere and you swam your way towards the built-in stairs, swaying your hips as you walked up the steps.

Nico hissed at the feeling of your cold, damp body against his warm skin when you dropped down, straddling his hips. Instinctively, his hand caressed your hips, playing with the strings of your bikini.

“I think my view’s better.” He grinned. Your hands trailed up and down his abs, nails barely scratching at his skin, while his kept drawing patterns on your thigh. Your body was blocking the sun now, a soft halo traced your silhouette, outlining you in a golden glow.

His grin grew when one of your hands reached to pull at the bikini’s string, untying the knot in one swift motion, your pelvis half exposed. As you reached to undo the other, his hand grabbed at your wrist. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Let me have some fun, there’s no one around anyway.”

And how could he stop you when you looked so beautiful on top of him. He reached for the strings of his trunks, but you swatted him away. You could take care of his half hard cock later. His breath hitched as you untied the other knot and lifted yourself up to slide off the bikini under you before settling back down, straddling his thigh.

You were already steadying yourself with your hands on his taut stomach, rolling your hips forward while he let his hands drift until he was cupping your ass. A breathy moan left your lips as you started to rub yourself against his thigh, spreading your slick all over it.

“Fuck,” he gasped as your knee nudged his hard cock. He glanced around a little, trying to make sure nobody was wandering around the pool area. Nico palmed your ass with one hand before giving you a light smack and dragging his thumb to rub slow circles on your clit with the other.

You gasped, grinding yourself down on his thigh trying to reach your peak. Your head fell forward, and that’s when you saw the mess you were making on his leg. Glistening and shiny against his perfect skin, your juices were sticking to his hair and the sight sent a quiver to your clit.

You rocked your hips up and down, trying to alleviate the desperate warmth growing in your core. You bit your lip when your cunt clenched around nothing, begging to be filled.

Your hips stuttered a bit as you kept riding and he guided you along with his hands squeezing your hips. "Nico," you whined. "Let me just—"

You slowed down your movements and fumbled with his swim trunks, but he stopped you before you could drag them down. “Oh no, pretty girl,” he teased. “It's my thigh or nothing. I'm not helping you get off with my cock.”

He clenched his thigh and dragged your hips down, resuming the pace you had before. Your head tipped back, showing off your neck and tits, your nipples hard through your bikini and Nico had to fight to keep his lips off you.

"Fuck you." You said through gritted teeth and he laughed. You held onto him as your lips parted. You were panting, shaking, still grinding, making soft little gasping noises, your eyes drifting closed. Nico squeezed your hips tighter when he felt you jolt and shake as you came on his thigh, moaning his name like a mantra. As the roll of your hips started to slow, you peeked down at the mess you created, more of your cum spilling over.

“You okay, pretty girl?” You nodded your head, still coming down from your own orgasm, chest heaving. You couldn’t help but drag your fingers through the sticked hair of his thigh, spreading the slick around before raising your hand, cum string snapping as your fingers reached up to his mouth.

Nico looked up at you, your gaze hazy and pupils blown, before he took in your digits and licked around to get a taste, a mix of salty and sweet, his sweat and your honey-like slick.

[astrolook]

Degree Theory: Astrology’s Version of Skill Levels (Noobs to Final Bosses) 🎮🌟

You already know your Sun sign, but did you know the degree number it’s at can unlock even more secrets about you? 🤯

Every planet in your birth chart sits at a specific degree (0°-29°), and these numbers add an extra layer of meaning to your personality, strengths, and even life lessons.

Let’s break it down planet by planet—with a fun, no-BS take.

0° – The Cosmic Newborn 👶

"I’m here to start something big."

Planets at 0° act like fresh energy—pure, unfiltered, and ready to shake things up. People with 0° placements feel like pioneers, as if the universe dropped them off and said, "Figure it out!"

🔹 Sun at 0°: You radiate raw, unfiltered main character energy. You’re not here to follow—you're here to lead (or at least dramatically exist).

🔹 Moon at 0°: Your emotions are pure instinct—you don’t just feel things, you ARE the feeling. Mood swings? Nah, mood rollercoasters.

🔹 Mercury at 0°: Words just spill out, whether they make sense or not. Genius or chaotic chatterbox—depends on the day.

🔹 Venus at 0°: You love like a Disney princess—pure, big, dramatic. Also, zero poker face when you’re into someone.

🔹 Mars at 0°: Immediate action. No waiting, no thinking, just punching the gas (and sometimes people).

🔹 Jupiter at 0°: The lucky golden retriever of astrology. You say yes to everything, and somehow life rewards you for it.

🔹 Saturn at 0°: Born responsible. You came out of the womb stressed about taxes.

🔹 Uranus at 0°: You’re the definition of unpredictable. Even you don’t know what you’ll do next.

🔹 Neptune at 0°: You live in your own fantasy world, and reality is just a suggestion.

🔹 Pluto at 0°: Intensity level? Maximum. You were born with a “destroy and rebuild” button.

1°-9° – The Rising Star 🌟

"I’m developing my power."

Planets at early degrees feel like fresh talent in training—raw, ambitious, and figuring things out.

🔹 Sun at 5°: You’re the rising star in your social circle. Humble beginnings, but just wait—you're gonna shine.

🔹 Moon at 3°: Emotional development in progress. You’re learning what feels right and what just feels…ick.

🔹 Mercury at 7°: Brain-to-mouth filter? Still buffering. But your ideas? Gold.

🔹 Venus at 2°: Love is cute, fun, flirty—until you catch feelings, then it’s panic mode.

🔹 Mars at 8°: Your drive is explosive, but figuring out when to stop is the real challenge.

🔹 Jupiter at 6°: Luck works in your favor when you’re brave enough to take risks.

🔹 Saturn at 9°: Learning responsibility early in life, but still finding that work-hard-play-hard balance.

🔹 Uranus at 4°: Experimenting with your rebellious streak, but not fully committing (yet).

🔹 Neptune at 1°: A dreamer who’s just waking up to their spiritual and creative potential.

🔹 Pluto at 5°: Transformation is happening, but it’s not at full power (yet).

10°-19° – The Master of the Craft 🎓

"I know exactly what I’m doing."

Middle-degree planets are strong, balanced, and naturally expressed—not too raw, not too extreme.

🔹 Sun at 15°: Peak confidence. You own your personality like it’s patented.

🔹 Moon at 12°: Emotionally balanced—until someone messes with your peace. Then it’s war.

🔹 Mercury at 18°: Quick wit, great communicator, could talk their way out of a crime.

🔹 Venus at 14°: Aesthetic queen/king. Your love life and your fashion sense? Both on point.

🔹 Mars at 17°: Strategic AF. You know when to strike and when to chill—warrior with a plan.

🔹 Jupiter at 11°: Wise and lucky. Life is a game and you’ve got the cheat codes.

🔹 Saturn at 19°: The mature friend who somehow also enjoys chaos. You handle responsibility like a pro.

🔹 Uranus at 16°: Balanced rebel. Knows when to push boundaries and when to play along.

🔹 Neptune at 10°: Dreams are just clear enough to bring to reality. Manifesting pro.

🔹 Pluto at 13°: Power? Controlled but always present. You scare people (in a good way).

20°-28° – The Old Soul 🦉

"I’ve seen it all, and I’m here to finish the job."

Late-degree planets are intense, wise, and powerful—but also impatient because they’ve been through it all.

🔹 Sun at 25°: You’re a boss, period. No time for games, just legacy-building.

🔹 Moon at 22°: Emotionally deep AF. You KNOW things before people even open their mouths.

🔹 Mercury at 28°: Talks like a professor and a stand-up comedian at the same time.

🔹 Venus at 26°: Love is serious business. No casual dating, just intense connections.

🔹 Mars at 21°: Unstoppable force. You’ve already mastered action—now you’re here to win.

🔹 Jupiter at 23°: Wise beyond your years. You’ve learned all the lessons and now you’re the teacher.

🔹 Saturn at 27°: Life has tested you more than most, but you wear your scars like armor.

🔹 Uranus at 28°: Fully awakened rebel. You break all the rules, but somehow succeed anyway.

🔹 Neptune at 24°: Master manifestor. You make the impossible seem normal.

🔹 Pluto at 27°: Your power is legendary. You were born to make generational changes.

29° – The Fated Degree 🔥 (Final Boss Level of Astrology)

"This energy is my final test."

29° is called the "Anaretic Degree," aka the boss battle of astrology. It’s like cramming for a final exam—the universe is making sure you’ve truly mastered this planetary energy. If you have a planet here, there’s often urgency, intensity, and a feeling of fate around that area of life.

🔹 Sun at 29°: Walking powerhouse. You’ve learned all there is about your identity, and now it’s your final test to own it. Spotlight finds you whether you want it or not.

🔹 Moon at 29°: Emotional sage. You’ve felt it all, been through emotional hell and back, and now your intuition is on god-tier mode. But emotions can feel overwhelming, like you're carrying generations of feelings.

🔹 Mercury at 29°: Brilliant but exhausted mind. Your thoughts race at 5G speed, but decision-making is HARD because you see all the options. Overthinking is your enemy.

🔹 Venus at 29°: Love and beauty master. You’ve seen every possible romantic situation—loyalty, betrayal, passion, heartbreak. Now, love feels fated and no casual flings will do.

🔹 Mars at 29°: The warrior with no off switch. You’ve been in SO many battles (literal or metaphorical) that your go-to reaction is "fight first, think later." But the lesson? Not every war is worth it.

🔹 Jupiter at 29°: Lucky but reckless. You know how to take risks and make big moves, but sometimes it’s too much, too fast. Learning when to pull back is key.

🔹 Saturn at 29°: The old soul who’s been through the wringer. You’ve mastered responsibility, but you might feel like you’ve been an adult since age 5. Final test? Balancing hard work with actual joy.

🔹 Uranus at 29°: Rebel genius. You’ve already mastered breaking rules, revolutionizing ideas, and making history. Now? You need to use that power responsibly.

🔹 Neptune at 29°: Spiritual visionary. You’ve seen through the illusion, lived in your dreams, and touched the mystical. Now, the challenge is staying grounded in reality while keeping the magic alive.

🔹 Pluto at 29°: Transformation overload. You were born into powerful, life-changing experiences. Intensity follows you like a shadow, but your final test is learning to control the fire instead of letting it consume you.

So, What’s Your Degree Number? 🤔

Want to know what your planet’s degrees say about you? Message me for a personalized astrology reading and take a look at my pinned post as well! 🔮✨

[cherrycheolkat]

heyyyy, could i please request spanking + cheol from your second nsfw bingo 😩😩😣😣😣

oofff you all are popping off with cheol and the nsfw bingo squares - and don't get me wrong, i'm here for it, but i hope we can all match each other's freaks yk

♡ kat

bingo squares: spanking

pairing: choi seungcheol x f!reader

genres: nextdoorneighbor!seungcheol, college student!reader, age gap

summary: y/n is home from college to find her new next-door neighbor is a much younger, hotter man than when she left the fall before (goodbye old mrs. windermere) - but to y/n he seems very lonely and overworked, and she sets out to fix that

word count: 2.2k

warnings: age-gap, smut, voyeurism, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, spanking, cum eating

it was a cool, balmy morning, perfect for a run. y/n made sure to stop and stretch outside her next-door neighbor’s house. she always started out with a tshirt covering her sports bra, but by the time she had made it around the entire neighborhood, she would just be so hot and sweaty that she would have to take it off. just in time to see seungcheol heading out for his workday - she thought it was cute that he always waved and said ‘hi.’

besides, why not let mr. choi see what he was missing. why he was all alone in a huge house, y/n had no idea - it felt a bit sad to her - and she imagined he was a bit sad, she felt like he deserved a little show. something he could store away in his man-brain. she liked to imagine that he jerked off to thoughts of her while he showered. 

lately, she had even made sure to leave her curtains open at night when she was changing for bed - her bedroom faced his. she was basically doing him a service. like a good deed or whatever. and the thought that he might be watching only made her put in the extra effort, like wearing her cutest underwear. because, really, that poor man, all alone in a huge house, and no one around to take care of his needs - she couldn’t even imagine how blue his balls must be. 

plus, why not make him ache to be balls deep in her hot, tight pussy. she had always liked the idea of an older man anyway. boys her age were less than ideal - they didn’t know how to handle her. but she was certain mr. choi would know exactly how to take care of her and all of her needs.

not to mention, she had the best reason to randomly knock on his door - she was house sitting for her parents. so she was all alone in a big house, just one girl against all the creepy sounds that could happen, like trees scraping the window or the raccoons that liked snuffling around her mother’s composting area. and what if she heard sounds like someone breaking in? 

she was ecstatic that her mom had already let the neighbors know that she would be home alone that summer while her parents were off doing some research in whatever far-flung country. her amazing mother had even taken her to meet her new neighbor, since he was right next door - the closest in case y/n needed something. he had been so nice too, letting her know that she could drop by anytime. he even offered to let her use his pool since he wasn’t really home to enjoy it himself. 

so far, she hadn’t taken advantage of his offer to use his pool, but this morning, she planned to ask him if it was okay, since it was really hot. plus she was tired of banging around her parent’s. although, she had baked some cookies - she felt like she might take those to him, as well. whatever she needed to do to get to ride his face - she really didn’t care. 

she made her way back, picking up her pace a bit, worried she might miss him - he was like clockwork - she knew when he left and when he came home, always roughly at the same time each day. she made it back just in time to almost collide with him as she walked to knock on his front door. 

she laughed, “oh, i’m so sorry, mr. choi,” she gushed, “i just wanted to ask if it was still okay if i used your pool?” she made sure to stand with a hand on her hip and to do her best to not look out of breath.

he was dressed in a button-down and slacks, his suit jacket slung over his arm, and half a bagel in his mouth. he was so cute - his hair was just the right amount of messy, but otherwise, he looked so clean-cut. he held up a finger to her and unlocked his car, a nice two-seater, and unceremoniously chucked his bag and jacket in before turning back to her.

she watched him take her in for a second, “yeah, the pool - of course - i can give you the gate code if you have your phone?”

she didn’t run with her phone actually - she liked to have her breaks from tech. she smiled, “oh, no, i don’t actually - could you text it to me?”

of course he could, like the darling he was. he took her number and sent the gate code to her. 

“there’s some snacks and drinks in the outdoor kitchen too,” he offered. 

“oh, thanks - that’s so kind of you,” she genuinely smiled because it was really sweet, since she had never seen anyone really come by his house. 

he smiled, “and it’s seungcheol - mr. choi is my dad,” his dimples only grew at the bad line. 

she laughed though - he was cute enough to get away with a few corny lines. she thanked him again and made sure to tell him to ‘have a good day’ and all of the things he should be told before he went off to work his insane hours. she had the urge to kiss him, but instead, she just flashed her cutest smile and walked back home. 

she showered and changed into a skimpy bikini. she grabbed a book and some extra snacks and her phone, and headed through the back yard to enjoy seungcheol’s amazing pool. she swam for a bit and then lounged and read - it was nice to be able to go back and forth between the pool and her book without having to worry about anyone bothering her stuff. 

she did the same thing the next day too. and the next. but friday, she changed course - she stopped him again in the morning, and offered to make him dinner - she knew he would be home at a reasonable hour, plus she did want to pay him back. actually, pay him back because he had been really nice. plus, being inside his home would really progress things. 

he hadn’t seemed as surprised as she had hoped, but he agreed all the same. 

she was a great cook - she was not concerned about that part of things at all. she had planned a menu the day before and made a grocery order for fillets with a pan sauce, potatoes that she would roast, and she was planning a beet salad with goat’s cheese, some bread that she had started the night before, and dessert would be cherry galette with sweet cream - something easy to throw together but eye catching. she was in no mood to half-ass this. 

she only went to the pool for a quick swim, and then she went home to bake and cook. she made  sure everything was perfect and prepped before she went to grab a shower, dress, do some quick makeup, and generally look as perfect as possible. and then she made her way to seungcheol’s house. 

he opened the door, still wearing his clothes from the day - his top shirt buttons were unbuttoned, his sleeves were rolled up, and he had a drink. he smiled, and she couldn’t help but return the smile when she fully saw his dimples. he was just so cute and gorgeous. she wondered if his cock was perfect too. 

he hung around in the kitchen talking to her as she finished things off. he wasn’t distracting, but he did comment a few times that she had gone to a lot of trouble. 

she just laughed, “i’m home alone all day - this was a fun distraction, plus your pool is so amazing and you’ve been so nice to let me use it,” she said with a smile. 

he was quiet, though. she glanced up and noticed the way he was watching her - his gaze taking her in. he nodded, “how could i say ‘no’ to you though?” he asked, voice softer than she was prepared for. 

she blushed, “i mean it’s pretty easy actually - my dad says ‘no’ to me all the time,” she smiled and turned back to what she was doing. 

she glanced back to see him nodding, “i’m sure you don’t do quiet so much to try to please your dad though, do you?” 

she felt the small shivers that broke out over her skin - his voice was so deep. she shrugged, “that’s not really my department.”

“no, you don’t want to make your father happy?” he sounded incredulous, as he gave his drink a small swirl.

she was pulling dishes from the oven, making sure all the times lined up. she didn’t answer immediately. 

instead, she felt his hands on her hips, “does he know the kind of underwear you wear to bed?” she felt his lips brush her throat, “does he know what a slut you are for my attention?” he whispered just beneath her ear, his lips dragging gently over her skin. 

her eyelids fluttered closed at the contact. she felt his hands slide down the front of the dress she was wearing, before hiking it up, “what underwear are you wearing tonight, baby girl?” he whispered, even as his hands traced up her thighs to her panties - feeeling the barely there satin that just covered her pussy. 

she felt the hard way he exhaled, “fuck,” he murmured, he fingers slipping under the fabric, “and already wet for me too.”

she shivered again, letting him pick her up and settle her on the counter, he fit perfectly between her thighs. she wrapped her legs around his trim waist, as he pulled her close, kissing her roughly. she moaned breathily as she returned his kisses. 

when he leaned back, he gazed at her, “you did mean for us to eat though, didn’t you?”

she nodded meekly. 

he smiled, “right,” his fingers traced down her throat and grazed her breast, “you went to so much trouble for me,” he whispered, smiling. 

she shook her head, “it wasn’t trouble,” she reached up, smoothing his bangs from his face. 

“if you just wanted to fuck, i would say it was a lot of trouble since the gate code and the door code are the same,” he watched her as she nodded slowly, accepting what he had just implied.

he pressed a bit closer, “but you want more than just a few gos on my cock, don’t you, baby doll?”

she bit her lower lip, nodding, “yes,” she breathed. 

she was almost surprised that they made it through dinner. by the time she offered him dessert, he pulled her into his lap, rushing to kiss her. his hand sliding easily between her legs. he swiped her panties to the side and stuffed his fingers in roughly, “so fucking tight,” he whispered. 

she gasped softly, trying to control her breath as he began to finger her and kiss her throat and exposed chest. she was almost shocked by how quickly she came, her juices gushing for him - it usually took ages for her to even come with other guys. but before she could really take it in, he was picking her up and placing her on the table. he pushed her dress up past her midriff. she saw him stick his fingers in the cream on the galette - he held them out to her. she opened her mouth, licking his fingers clean, letting him push his fingers farther and farther into her mouth.

“look at you, baby girl, so good for me,” he smiled, pulling his fingers from her mouth and swiping them through the cream again - this time they didn’t go to her mouth. she felt the sudden chilly, stickiness in her pussy - she clenched around his fingers. he nodded, “so perfect, baby, i don’t even have to tell you what to do,” he murmured. 

and then he was eating her out. stretching her and licking the cream from inside her. she fell back onto the hardwood dining table, sure that she had never felt more bliss. and he brought her so close to orgasm and pulled back, he gave her pussy a small smack. 

“seungcheol,” she whined softly as she felt a second smack that landed perfectly on her clit, causing her hips to buck. 

“hmm, what is it little girl? what do you need from daddy?” he asked as he finally pulled her panties off, dropping them to the side. 

“need you - need your cock,” she whimpered. 

he nodded, “i know little girl,” he smoothed her hair, “maybe in a bit, but first i need to do something,” he smiled as he dragged her to the edge of the table and flipped her over onto her stomach. 

she felt him carass her ass, squeezing her cheeks roughly, and then smacking them gently - his smacks were small at first, and then they were harder, open palmed smacks that made her jolt slightly forward against the table. she could only moan and whimper in response. 

it went on for several minutes until he seemed satisfied that she had been spanked enough, “just so you know why i’m spanking you, baby girl, if you ever go running and take your shirt off again so everyone in the neighborhood can see your perfect little tits bouncing, i won’t take it easy on you, i’ll really have to punish you - understood?” he whispered, his hand was gently stroking her reddened skin, soothing her after the fact. 

she nodded, “yes, daddy,” she moaned. 

he seemed satisfied, sighing softly, “good - now we can go upstairs, and i can take care of you the way you’ve been begging for me to all month.” 

she sat up, wincing slightly - he kissed her softly, his hands cupping her face, “you want to be good for me, don’t you?” he whispered as he pulled away.

she nodded, wanting nothing else. 

a/n: i love writing cheol - fr you have no idea how usually when i write a long fic it's cheol-centric - him and his boba eyes and his amazing eyelashes - he is def the definition of sexy 30s

♡ kat

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[its-luna-noel]

puppy chronicles

03. the playful puppy | nanami x reader

The JJK men are gifted a hybrid puppy. ...wait, that kind of puppy? alpha!human!jjk men x omega!hybrid!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, hybrid!au, omegaverse, hybrid!reader, omega!reader, pet play, collars/leashes, smut, heat/rut, knots, oral (f! receiving)

word count: 4.3k next: the innocent puppy | choso x reader

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there! here's nanami's puppy chronicle, i hope you enjoy! had a lot of fun writing this one, he's got such a good dynamic.

When Kento was told he was getting a Christmas bonus this year, he was not expecting to receive an untrained hybrid puppy instead of an extra check.

You tug at the leash his boss’s secretary has you on, nearly knocking her over as you whine and whimper, tail wagging excitedly behind you while you try to catch his scent. Your sheer black slip rides up your hips, revealing matching black panties that accentuate the plush curve of your ass. The flesh around your hips and thighs jiggles gently with every animated lash of your tail.

Kento has to clear his throat and adjust the tie at his neck, suddenly feeling far too warm in his suit.

“Uh, sir–” he tries to say, because he wasn’t expecting to go home with a puppy today.

His boss cuts him off with a grin and a hearty laugh. “Just take her, Nanami! She’s from one of the best breeders in town; I’m sure she’ll make a perfect pet, once she’s trained.” He winks.

So Kento takes the leash from the secretary, pretending his hand isn’t shaking.

He takes you home, keeping you on a short leash to keep you by his side as he unlocks his front door and allows you in. He unclips the leash from your thick leather collar, and you’re darting away, ignoring the calls of your name while you giggle and explore.

He pinches the bridge of his nose while he watches you prance around his living room, exploring all of his decorations, his collection of books, his shelf of records. Your furry tail whips side to side, and your ass wiggles while it wags because you just can’t contain your excitement; you have a home! You’ve always wanted one of those, especially with a handsome, kind owner. He’s got pretty blond hair and warm hazel eyes, and he smells good, too, like a true alpha. You smell him on the air and bound over to him, rubbing up on him affectionately.

“Mr. Nanami!” you cry happily, tail still beating back and forth. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He sighs softly, and his drawn expression relaxes a little as he looks down at you, watching you rub your face against his shoulder. “Call me Kento,” he tells you, reaching up to pet your fluffy, floppy ears.

You hum happily and tap your foot animatedly, making him chuckle. Then, when he pulls away, you bound away, jumping up and down excitedly. “Do you have any toys? Or games? What about a ball; I’m really good at fetch! Or tug-of-war, I’m good at that too!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t have any toys, puppy. I wasn’t exactly expecting to bring you home today.”

Your tail drops, and a small pout forms on your lips. Then you brighten up. “That’s okay! We can go get some! Can we go shopping, Mr. Kento? For toys?”

“Just Kento,” he emphasizes gently. “Will you be a good girl if I take you out?”

You grin up at him, bounding towards the front door. “I’ll be good! Oh, please please please!”

So he lets out another soft sigh before gently patting your side, gesturing for you to move away from him. “Let’s get you changed first.”

“Oh, but why? I don’t wanna wait!”

He gives you a stern look. “Because I don’t want other alphas staring at you while we’re out. The walk here was hard enough.”

You smile up at him, tail wagging. It makes you feel good that he wants to keep you for himself, that he’s already possessive over you. It makes you feel like you’re wanted, desired. “Okay!” you chirp, turning and happily skipping towards the master bedroom.

He shakes his head after you, following you. “On the left,” he calls ahead as you sniff at different doors, trying to find the bedroom.

You walk inside, and you’re suddenly overcome by the overpowering scent of him. It’s everywhere, heady in its intensity, drowning you in musk as you, without permission, crawl up onto the bed and curl up right in the center.

Kento walks in and raises an eyebrow when he sees you. “That’s mine,” he says.

You smile, tail thumping softly against the sheets. “Smells like you,” is all you say in reply.

He lets out another sigh before coming over and sitting on the end of the bed. He reaches over a hand and lightly pets your ears, and your foot taps repeatedly against the mattress.. “Let me find you some real clothes to wear, alright?”

You nod happily, bumping your nose against his palm affectionately. He smiles a little and stands.

He searches through his dressers for something you can wear, something more appropriate than the sheer, unsupported slip you were presented to him in. He finds you one of his sweaters and a pair of joggers that might fit you.

You stay curled up on his bed, watching him move around the bedroom with ease.

He’s attractive, you notice again. Almost devastatingly so. With cheekbones so sharp you’re sure you’d cut your fingers on them and those gentle eyes, it makes you want to whine and whimper until he comes over and ravishes you in his bed. But the idea of going on a walk with him is even more tempting, so you sit perfectly still in bed while he brings you clothes, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Get dressed,” he tells you.

You grin up at him and crawl towards him, sniffing at his neck. “You’re supposed to dress me! I’m your puppy now.”

His cheeks burn pink, and you coo at the adorable sight, lapping at his neck and cheeks. He puts his hands on your shoulders to gently push you away. “Stop that. You’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself.”

You whine, high-pitched and pathetic. “But Kento,” you say, and the sound of his name on your sweet lips is enough to make him blush a deeper shade of red, “I want you to do it.”

So he, cheeks still brightly flushed, reaches down towards your thighs, grabbing the bottom of your sheer slip, and starts pulling it up your legs.

Your tail wags animatedly at the feeling of his knuckles brushing your skin.

He pulls the slip up, up, up, until your body is fully revealed to him besides the lacy panties you still wear. Your tits hang perfectly on your chest, and he fights to swallow, averting his gaze before he starts imagining what it would be like to lower his mouth to them and suck, to run his tongue over your heated skin.

He clears his throat and grabs the sweater he brought for you, practically shoving it onto your body.

You whine again at his brusque behavior, ears pinned back, though if it’s in annoyance or hurt he’s not sure. So because he can’t tell, he softens his movements a little, gently helping you to stand at the side of the bed so you can step into the legs of his joggers.

Once they’re up around your hips, he practically sighs in relief. You’re much less of a temptation now that you’re not dressed in see-through lingerie. He reaches up, fingers gently trailing the leather collar at your throat. “Want this off, too?” he asks.

Immediately, you whimper, pulling back to look at him with pleading eyes. Your tail drops between your legs, and you shake your head repeatedly, backing up against the mattress. “No, don’t take it away!”

“Shh,” he whispers, caught off guard by your vehement response. “It’s okay, I won’t take it if you don’t want me to. I was just asking.”

Slowly, you relax. Then, once he offers a soft twitch of his lips towards what you think is a smile, you sniffle and prance forward. “Walk?” you ask.

He can’t help himself; he chuckles. “Yes, let’s go before the shops close.” He leads you towards the front door, and before you walk out the door into the brisk evening air, he clips your leash at your throat.

You hum, leaning your cheek into his hand before he pulls away. Then he opens the door and leads you outside.

He huffs when you bolt out the door, tail wagging wildly once more as you tug on the leash, going up to everything and everyone you see to investigate.

More than a few people stare at the misbehaving puppy.

Kento hisses your name under his breath, giving the leash a sharp tug – not enough to hurt you, but enough to make his displeasure known. Your ears pin back slightly, and you come to a stop, turning and looking back at him with a chastised expression.

He walks over, tightening his hold on the leash. “You said you’d be good.”

You hang your head, and he can’t tell if you’re being dramatic or if you’re actually taking in his soft reprimand. “Sorry.”

He sighs and pats your head, trying to raise your spirits once more. He already doesn’t like seeing you sad. “Come on,” he encourages, giving your ears a gentle rub. “Just try to stay by me, okay? I don’t like when you pull on the leash.”

You nod, seeming to take his instructions seriously. And when you start walking again, you stay at heel, simply gazing around at the sky, the neighborhood, the walking neighbors.

Living in an affluent area, there are a few other hybrids around, some on leashes and some off. They turn to look at you curiously, their ears forward and tails swishing as they realize a new puppy has joined the neighborhood.

Some who pass close enough stop to scent you, and when you scent them back, Kento has to try to not feel jealous. It’s only natural for you to be curious.

But he’s already starting to feel possessive of the little omega he was gifted only this afternoon.

He walks you to the nearby shops, where he buys you things you need like clothes and toiletries. Then, your last stop for the night, he leads you into one of the hybrid accessory shops to buy you toys as a reward for behaving. With bags in hand, he leads you back home, giving you slack on the leash as you continue to walk beside him without complaint.

When you get home and he unclips the leash from your collar, he gently squeezes your chin between thumb and forefinger. His eyes are even softer than they were before, and you gaze up at him, thinking he might just take you and kiss you senseless.

Instead he asks, “Would you rather sleep in my room or the guest room?”

Your heart aches to be away from him. “Can I sleep in your room?”

He nods and helps you take the bags up to his room, helping you unpack all your new things. Once he’s done, he turns with a smile and tosses a tennis ball – new and bright green and fragrant – down the hall.

You bound after it, laughter pealing off the walls. He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head after you. He wasn’t excited to have an energetic pup like you when he first walked you home, but now he’s sure you both will enjoy the company.

Besides, this just gives him the chance to learn exactly what tires you out.

~

When your heat comes, you’re nearly insufferable.

Rubbing your ass up on him, stretching and arching in bed just to tempt him into taking you – even just the sweet scent of your heat nearly drives him crazy. He’s trying to be respectful, trying to treat you kindly, but you’re making him want to just pin you down and mount you, to mate you like an animal. 

He fights it for as long as he can, but he can only do so much when you’re just begging to be taken.

He comes home that day from work to find you nesting in bed, curled up in blankets and whimpering like it hurts, because it does. Every moment that the alpha – your alpha – won’t claim you is another spent in agonizing heat, and no amount of touching or fingering or cumming can fix it without his knot.

You try to tell him as such. You whimper, “Kento.”

“I know it hurts, sweet girl,” he says, voice hushed as he’s hit with the thick, cloying scent of you. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you; I don’t–”

“It’s not taking advantage of me,” you whine, ears flat against your skull as you rise up on your hands and knees and arch, wagging your ass back and forth. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as you show off your wet, darkened underwear, nearly translucent with slick and arousal. “Please!”

He grits his teeth, trying to fight it. But he can’t rip his eyes away from the sight of your barely clothed cunt, your puffy lips poking out from either side of the fabric. You’re so wet he’s pretty sure he could lean in and drink it from you, and yet he holds himself back, he hesitates, all because he doesn’t want to hurt you…

But with one last circular movement of your hips, he can’t help himself. He has to feast on you. Has to devour you.

He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh there, and he yanks you backwards towards the edge of the bed. You yelp in surprise, but you just bury your face into the duvet and grind your hips back, the thin fabric of your underwear catching on the buckle of his belt.

He lets out a muffled groan, fingers squeezing your hips. “Sweet girl.” He’s already panting.

He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, spreading your thighs so he can get a better look at your dripping pussy. You angle your hips into an even deeper arch, and he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them to the side, taking a good, long look at the meal he’s about to have.

Then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your pussy from the back, tasting you for the first time.

He groans loudly, and your hips jolt, the vibrations from his voice sending pleasure tingling through your body. “Taste so sweet, darling girl,” he mumbles into your cunt, and then he licks another long line from your clit up to your pussy, tongue swirling there before diving in, making you cry out loudly at the sensation.

All he’s doing is building the heat higher, higher, higher.

“Kento,” you whimper, legs trembling already at the stimulation. He just wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you forward until your ass is dangling over the end of the bed, giving him a prime angle to eat out your drooling cunt. “Kento!”

He doesn’t stop. He just wraps his arms tighter and commands, “Say it again.”

But you don’t, because you’ve always been a playful little girl, and you like having the power over him. And so he pulls back, panting, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs as he tries again. “Say my name, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, wiggling your ass in his face, tantalizingly close. “Not till you fuck me.”

He growls, a low, rumbling noise deep in his chest. “You’re being a little brat, huh? I know the best way to get you to stop that, though, don’t I?”

You shake your head, not understanding. You’re not a brat, you just like to play with him. Like when he finally smiles, when he finally lets his guard down enough for you to see the real, soft him, the one who laughs while playing with you and pets your hair like a good alpha.

But he knows the truth; you are a brat, and he knows he loves it.

He tightens his grip on your hips and continues, “Yeah, I know the best way.

“I just have to tire you out.”

You yelp again when he dives back into your pussy, nose nearly breaching your entrance as he licks at your clit with feverish intensity. You try to tug away, just wanting his dick! But he doesn’t let you go; he just wraps his arms tighter around you, beefy biceps pushing against your plush thighs. He laps at your clit repeatedly, finding the exact right angle that makes you moan the loudest and stays there, bringing you crashing towards your orgasm in an embarrassing amount of time. Your cheeks are burning as he makes you cum almost immediately, your thighs tightening and pussy throbbing against the tip of his nose as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

He doesn’t even stop for a moment to let you breathe before he’s forcing you towards a second one.

“Wait!” you cry, reaching back to push at his head, trying to detach him from your cunt. “Wait, I’m sorry!”

“Mm, don’t be sorry, sweet girl. I should be sorry for not tiring you out properly, especially when you’re just in heat and don’t know any better. Can’t know any better, right? You’re just a little puppy who needs to be taken care of.” And he redoubles his efforts against your clit.

You cry out again, hips bucking under his tongue. “Please, Kento!”

“Mm,” he hums against your clit, following your every movement so that he can make you cum properly – that is, over and over and over again. “What, sweetheart?”

You whimper, “Too much.”

“Aw, honey, it’s okay.” He reaches up with one hand and takes yours, which is currently gripping the duvet with white-knuckled intensity. “Just hold onto me.”

So you move your fingers to wrap around his, and it helps keep you grounded as he entirely ruins you.

He makes you cum a second time before he even moves. He takes a moment to catch his breath, working his jaw to relax the sore muscles before bringing the hand that’s not holding yours down to rub your ass. He palms the flesh there for a moment, letting you take a breather. He doesn’t start back up until your breath has started to slow.

Then he moves his hand, and two long, thick fingers push slowly into your pussy, stretching it open for him.

You whine and moan, hips bucking against his palm, but he doesn’t change his pace as he just slowly sinks into the heat of you, your dripping arousal more than enough lubrication for him to comfortably fit his fingers inside.

Then he pulls back and starts to slowly fingerfuck you.

You moan, hips continuing to try and pull away from his touch, instinctually running away from the overstimulation. But he doesn’t let you run; he keeps you pinned there as he resumes his perfect motions, licking your clit once more as he slowly pushes his fingers inside you.

You have no idea how one person’s mouth can be this good. He’s tearing you apart and putting you back together, and all you can do is enjoy it, even as you continue to pout, because you just want him to fuck you.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your cunt, “I need to get you ready first.”

And that makes the heat burn even hotter, to know that he is planning on fucking you. You suppose you can wait.

And he makes you wait, until you’re a drooling, panting, crying mess against the bed.

Your legs can’t even hold you up anymore; it’s all Kento as you lean into his strong hands, letting him position you where he wants you. The lower half of his face is covered in slick, and all he does as he finally pulls away from your cunt is wipe it away with the back of his hand and lick it clean.

Oh, it’s a divine sight.

Kento rearranges your limbs on the bed, climbing up behind you until you’re propped up on your knees again, legs wobbly from how many mind-shattering orgasms he’s already given you. He pushes you down into the mattress, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, as he rises up onto his knees behind you, pressing his clothed erection against your quivering, needy pussy. It’s practically slobbering on him, smearing slick over the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s rubbing himself on you, grinding his dick against your swollen lips.

Then he brings his hands down and slowly unbuckles his belt, unhurried. You can’t believe the amount of patience this man has.

He drops the leather to the side, and then he’s unbuttoning his pants, lowering the zipper until the only confines trapping the thick print of his cock are his dark boxer briefs. He pushes his pants down towards his knees and kicks them off, and then he repeats the process from the beginning, grinding his dick against you before finally pushing down his underwear, too.

Leaving him bare behind you.

You can feel how hot he’s running, can feel how big he is right up against your pussy. He slathers slick along the head, gathering your arousal as lubricant before he presses up against your cunt. “Are you ready?” he asks, ever the gentleman.

You just moan in response, right into the mattress. It’s all you can muster.

He smirks a little; he can’t fight it. Seeing you fucked drunk with just his mouth is a sight he’s proud of, and he takes it in as he slowly pushes inside of you, letting you feel every inch and every ridge of his veiny length.

You moan, face pressed into the duvet as you’re nearly drooling at the sensation of his thick, perfect dick stretching you open. You’re practically choking on it; you think you can feel him all the way in your chest.

Finally, he bottoms out, and he pauses, letting you both take another breather. His shoulders are rising and falling a little faster than before, and it makes you happy to know that you affect him just as much as he ruins you.

Then he starts to pull his hips back, fucking you slowly, tenderly. But that’s not how you want it.

You grind your hips back against his, and he makes a choking sound, grabbing your waist to stop your movements. “Knock it off,” he strains through gritted teeth.

You don’t. “Or what?” you tease, turning your head to look back at him.

God, you look ruined. This is the first time he can see your face clearly since he started, and you’re flushed, sweaty, eyes hazy and cock-drunk with only a couple thrusts. Your tongue lolls out at the corner to catch a drop of drool.

He grips you harder. “Sweet girl,” he says, voice tight with restraint, “I can only do so much. I can only control myself to a certain point. You can’t keep taunting me, or I’ll lose it.”

“So lose it,” you say, like it’s that simple.

He snarls and snaps his hips forward, and your back bows into a delicious arch, a loud cry falling from your lips. His blond hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat as he pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

All you know is the aching stretch of his cock, and the promise of more when you take his knot.

So you knock your hips back again. Toying with him. “Please.”

And, well, who is he to deny your wishes when you ask so pretty?

He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the mattress, pining you into a mean arch as he pummels into your swollen pussy, feeling how gummy and tight your walls are as they convulse around him every time he hits your cervix. You’re hardly even moaning anymore; you’re just whining and crying out, loud ah ah ah!s echoing in his bedroom as he fucks you like you wanted.

Like the brat you are.

He grunts, the slaps of his hips meeting yours just as lewd as the sounds coming from your lips. And it just turns him on more, how fucking filthy it all is, the wet squelching of his cock ramming into your pussy, the sweat and slick and drool that’s ruining his sheets.

He can’t help but think that maybe he is nothing more than an animal.

With that thought, he leans down, brushing his lips against your neck. His canines scrape the skin right where your scent glands emit such delicious pheromones. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss there to soothe the red welts his teeth leave, “be mine.”

You just moan, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you. He takes that as a yes.

He bites, teeth sinking into the buttery flesh there and breaking skin. He holds on while he fucks into you, and he feels the base of his cock swelling, just a couple more moments and he’ll make you his, oh fuck–!

With one more heavy shove, he forces you to take his knot, leaving you mewling in aching, agonizing pleasure. And then he cums, filling you with rope after pearly rope of his semen, plugging you full of his puppies.

His chest heaves with every breath, and you feel his muscular torso against your back as he slowly sinks down on top of you, his body caging yours in. And he presses soft kisses to the side of your neck, right over his mating mark, trying to soothe you as you come down from the overwhelming experience.

He tries to shift, but that just makes his knot tug at you enough to make you yelp and cry out. So he stays on top of you like that, kissing it all better.

“My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your neck, trailing kisses up to your ear, where he whispers, “my little puppy.”

And oh, at those words, you think you’re in love.

thanks for reading! -luna link to ao3 | next: the innocent puppy

[shanastoryteller]

Tracking down a prince of hell is surprisingly easy. The other demons can’t avoid them if they don’t know where they are, after all.

Castiel gives up arguing against it, but instead he’s taken to brooding in the corner, arms crossed, and glaring at him. As his main source of human bodily expression, Sam wishes he wasn’t so good at it. He doesn’t look like that, does he? Jesus.

Sam knocks on Ramiel’s door. There’s no reason to be impolite.

“Huh,” Ramiel answers, wearing the face of a weathered old fisherman. Which, from all accounts, is exactly how he’s been spending his infinite life. Sam learned how to fish like he learned all of his father’s lessons, grudgingly, but compared to how he’s living now, he has to admit it sounds peaceful. “You’re the kid that killed my brother.”

“What,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “were you close?”

Castiel makes some sort of choking sound that Sam knows he didn’t learn from him. Maybe he should be monitoring his television usage.

Ramiel cracks a grin. “You here to kill me, boy?”

“Do you want to be killed?” he asks.

“Not especially,” he says. “But if you killed Azazel, then you can kill me. We going to fight about it?”

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Sam says. He’d checked. “I don’t think you’re especially loyal to Lucifer.” If he was, he would have made an appearance during the apocalypse, would have been helping Azazel find Lucifer’s vessel, not hiding out in the middle of nowhere fishing and drinking. “If he comes back, that’ll be a problem for you, I think. So helping me is in your best interest.”

“Well, if it’s in my best interest.” He steps back, nudging the door open a little wider. “Come on in.”

Ramiel is surprisingly open giving Sam his blood. He looks fascinated and doesn’t question what Sam wants it for, apparently already well aware that Sam and Castiel are in the process of destroying the remaining seals.

“He wants to destroy Lilith,” Castiel says, the first thing he’s said since Ramiel opened the door. Sam wishes he was close enough to hit, which is probably one of the reasons Castiel is staying propped against the wall rather than sitting down with them. His vessel doesn’t feel tiredness, so Sam’s impressed he’s leaning at all.

“You don’t think he can?” Ramiel asks. “Sure, not now, but at all?”

“You think I can?” Sam interrupts, hope causing his stomach to flip over. This whole thing is his idea, he remembers killing Lilith before, but Castiel has been so sure it wouldn’t work.

Ramiel looks him over, something in his eyes that he can’t quite place. “You remind me of him.”

Sam tenses.

“You must see it more clearly than I do,” Ramiel says to Castiel. “You knew him before the fall. I only met him after, obviously.”

“Lucifer and I were not well acquainted,” Castiel says stiffly.

“I’m nothing like him,” Sam snaps. He can’t be. He won’t be. Even in the memories from the future, when he’s drinking demon blood, he’s not the damn devil.

“That’s a shame,” Ramiel says. Sam stares. “He was the strongest angel in heaven, a general among kings, God’s most beloved son.”

Sam swallows. “Propaganda.”

Ramiel raises an eyebrow and looks over at the angel in the corner.

Castiel holds out for several long moments before saying, “No. Lucifer was that. Once.”

“God asked of Abraham to do to Isaac what he could not do to Lucifer,” Ramiel says. “He had no deity of his own to appease and so Lucifer was cast out rather than eliminated. He was brilliant, in the beginning, of course we followed him. He shone so brightly, so righteous in his certainty, so compelling in his grief.” His hand falls heavily on Sam’s shoulder. “I see him in you so clearly. It’s not a damnation. Until the moment he fell, Lucifer was the brightest star in the sky.”

He's silent for probably too long, trying to find some way to respond to that. Finally he says, “I won’t fall then.”

He can’t.

He won’t.

He’s going to ensure Lucifer stays in the cage forever and whatever it costs him will be worth it. But he won’t fall.

~

Sam is startled out of a dead sleep by his name.

SAM! Echoes through his head and he’s rolling out of bed, rolling upright and still half asleep when he shifts from one place to the other. The urgency in the call has him standing there still half asleep, barefoot in sweatpants and a grey t shirt just tight enough in the shoulders that he thinks it’s his brother’s.

He runs a hair through his hair, smoothing it back from standing every which way, and blinks at the crowd of people in front of him. “Uh. Hi?”

He’s in the Roadhouse in the middle of standoff, a couple dozen people blocking off the door while pretty much everyone else in the bar has their guns drawn and pointed. He notices his father among them and refuses to react, not daring to look at his dad’s face for long enough to read anything there besides shock.

Ellen has her rifle aimed, but Jo’s slumped against the bar, her arm around – “Dean!”

He’s out of it, eyes squeezed shut and curled half over. It’s only Jo that’s keeping him partially upright. He sees the blood dripping on the ground and is already moving towards them, grabbing Dean’s shoulders and pushing him upright enough to see the blood soaked across his torso, his stomach split open just like Jessica’s had been, just like their mother.

Sam sees red.

“Sam,” Jo says in relief.

“Sammy,” says someone else, and this time when he looks over, those people in front of the door all have black eyes. “Samuel. You killed Azazel.”

“Loyalists?” he snarks, shifting to stand in front of Dean and Jo. He’s going to fix his brother, but he has to take care of this first. Dean’s not dead, and he’s stronger than he was when he brought Jo back, but he doesn’t know what kind of shape healing him is going to leave him in. Better not to risk it.

“Yes,” says the man, eyes still black. “You have earned the throne, Samuel, but it remains not empty. You’re meant to lead us, Samuel, but you’ve been missing. We’ve been forced to go to extreme measure to get your attention.”

“I’m not mean to do shit,” he snarls. He’s so tired of this crap. His future self had that part right – taking the destiny Lucifer had wanted for him and making him choke on it, using that infinite power to send his memories to his younger self so Lucifer wouldn’t ever get a chance to taste fresh air this time around – good. He didn’t like it when it was his dad trying to dictate how he lived his life, and he has even less tolerance for it from Lucifer. These ass clowns? It should be a joke, would be, even, if he didn’t have his brother’s blood on him.

He raises a hand and all the demons choke on air, eyes going wide and feet glued in place. He doesn’t pay any attention to the hunters at his back, hoping that they won’t be stupid enough to try and kill him while he’s saving their asses. Even if they succeed, Castiel will bring him back.

He walks forward, eyes narrowed, wondering if they’re flashing gold and not caring. “Well, good job, hurting my brother does get my attention.” He leans in close to the man who had spoken, voice whisper soft and yet carrying easily in the near silent bar. “You don’t want my attention.”

Pulling the demons from their hosts is easy. Smothering them into nothing, turning black smoke into black dust as he kills them permanently isn’t much harder than that. The people start coughing and groaning, others limp and likely in need of a hospital if they’re still alive, but Sam ignores them to focus on one woman who’s still trembling and terrified, the one demon he’d left behind.

He moves her hair away from her face, hoping the woman inside of her isn’t aware of what’s happened to her. The demon looks at him in terror. “You tell everyone. You tell them what happens when they spill my brother’s blood.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, I will, please. Please. I’ll tell everyone. I will.”

Her fear isn’t satisfying. He has to remind himself that it’s not this girl looking at him like this, but the demon inside of her. It doesn’t help much. He’d never wanted to be anyone’s nightmare. “Go.” Her head snaps back and he adds, “Gently.”

She hesitates then her head drops forward, black smoke oozing out her mouth, nothing quick or violent about it as the demon does it’s best to leave without doing any damage. As soon as it’s out, it disappears, running form him as quickly as it can.

The woman sways in front of him and he grabs her elbow to steady her. She blinks at him, dazed. “What happened?”

“You’re okay,” he says, patting her shoulder and letting go. She stays on her feet, although she still looks confused, but Sam turns away from them.

The hunters are still all silent, all still watching him. Most haven’t lowered their weapons, although some have. Ellen’s gun is still raised, but it’s not towards him, which is both comforting and not. He wonders who she thinks is most likely to try and kill him.

Dean’s passed out, out cold on the ground with Jo holding him up and pressing a hand towel from the bar against his stomach. “Sam,” she says again, eyes huge, but she doesn’t look afraid of him. That’s good.

“Thanks for calling me, Jo,” he says. “I’ve got him.”

He pulls Dean back against him, his brother’s chest rising and falling too quickly. He’s gone cold with blood loss and this wound might have even been the thing that killed him if Sam wasn’t here.

That’s never going to happen. Dean isn’t going to die. Dean isn’t going to go to hell. Sam is doing all this for his brother and just because he won’t be able to keep him doesn’t mean he’s willing to lose him.

He hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder and presses is hands against the wound on his stomach, feeling fresh hot blood spill over his fingers. He tilts his head just enough to graze his lips against Dean’s cheek, holding him steady as his body seizes under him.

Castiel heals with a touch, all if it happening too quickly for it to hurt. Sam’s not that good at it yet.

“Sorry,” he whispers, feeling Dean’s skin knit back together and his body go warm with new blood. Dean groans and coughs, body rebelling against being healed but not having much choice.

“John,” Ellen barks. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

Sam looks over his shoulder to see that his father has stepped forward, the Colt directed at him. Dean got hurt by demons and Dad had the Colt and didn’t use it. Only two bullets left and more than two demons, sure, he gets it. But still.

“Don’t waste a bullet, Dad,” he says. He's still refusing to look at his father's face. He doesn't need to know.

Any gun will do. Although he wonders if being killed by the Colt would prevent Castiel from bringing him back. He’s not much interested in testing it.

He tips Dean back towards Jo, who braces him with an arm around his waist. “Take care of him for me.”

“I’m trying,” she says, honesty and dry and exasperated, which is how he knows she means it. He smiles, might have even laughed if things were different. He likes Jo. He’d thought he did, from his memories, but he hadn’t felt it. He feels it now.

“Sammy,” Dean says, eyes glassy and movements still weak as he reaches out to him. “Sam.”

He grabs Dean’s reaching hand, gives it a quick squeeze, and is gone as soon as he hears the sound of a gun being cocked.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[blueblossomcherry]

Sunrise with You

pairing: lee minho x reader

cw: oral (f receiving), dry humping, hair pulling, pet names (love, baby), fingering, after care (i’m not very good at writing it), unprotected sex (🚫)

genre: fluff, smut

wc: 1304

warning: this is my first fic in a long time and my first smut ever (i’m sorry if it’s bad🙏🏻)

mdni, 18+

It's been weeks since Minho has had a day off, but fortunately he's off today. The two of you had plans to stay in bed all day, cuddling and watching movies. You had wanted to sleep for as long as possible, however those plans were ruined when you were awoken by the light coming from your window.

You roll over and see Minho still sound asleep. Once you settle, you feel Minho's arms wrap around your waist. Snuggling into his warmth, you take a moment to admire your sleeping boyfriend. He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, with his soft hair and his cat-like features. You have the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes but the last thing you want to do is wake him up, knowing he needs his sleep. After a few moments, you feel him stirring in his slumber.

“Good morning, love,” He says, in his sexy morning voice.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” You say, smiling and kissing his forehead.

“I always sleep well when you're with me,” He replies, smiling and winking. You laugh in response. He always has a way of putting a smile on your face, no matter the situation. That's your favorite thing about him. 

“I love you so much Minho,” You tell him, stars in your eyes and a blush on your cheeks. You still get shy saying that to him. Even after a whole year, you just can’t believe he’s yours.

“I love you more,” Minho says, a serious look in his eyes, as if he wants to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“Do you remember what today is?” You ask, excitedly. You knew he would remember, he’s remembered everything to do with you since the day you guys met.

“Do you really think I would forget something as important as our anniversary?” He asks, jokingly looking offended. You just smile at him, getting lost in his gorgeous eyes. He sits up, looking you in the eyes.

“Happy anniversary, love,” He whispers, his lips just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. When you don’t feel his lips against yours, you open your eyes. Only to find him looking at you with a teasing smile on his face.

“Minho,” You whine, pouting your lips. His eyes immediately darken, watching your lips. Seeing this, you decide to get back at him for teasing you. You push him back on the bed, straddling his hips. He groans and you can feel him growing hard under you within seconds. You smile at just how easily he’s wrapped around your finger. Rolling your hips against his, you start kissing his neck. His clothed tip hits your clit perfectly, making your eyes roll back. 

“Come on baby, let me see that pretty face,” He tells you, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at him. You moan out loud at the force, placing your hands on his chest for balance. You feel yourself getting close, hips stuttering. Minho, seemingly noticing, grabs your hips, forcefully stopping you from moving.

“No, please let me cum,” You plead, already sensing that you were in for a long morning. 

“Already begging?” He asks, laughing at how pathetic you sounded already. Taking your shirt off, he flipped you both over. His eyes dilated at the sight in front of him. Underneath him was exactly where he wanted you at all times. His rough hands playing with your perfect tits as you moaned softly. Feeling your arousal through your soaked panties on his thigh.

He lowered his mouth down to your nipple, licking and sucking. While he was abusing your nipple with his mouth, he brought his fingers up to the other, his thumb teasingly circling it. You couldn’t hold your moans in, making him smirk. Once he decided they were given enough attention, he moved down, kissing down your stomach until he got to your panties. 

“Look how wet you are for me,” He coos, rubbing your clit through your panties. 

“Can I taste you baby?” He asks, waiting for your consent before he goes any further. You nod, unable to speak from how desperate you were. 

“I need words, love,” Minho tells you, looking you in the eyes.

“Yes, please,” You breathe out, needing to be touched by him. He removes your panties, breath hitching as he sees them sticking to your wet cunt. You spread your legs further, giving him a good look at your glistening folds. He dives right in, flicking your clit with his tongue, as his fingers find your pulsating hole. Immediately, your hands find his hair, yanking and pulling every time he hits a sensitive spot. Eventually, he removes his fingers, earning a whine from you at the loss of contact. He lowers his tongue, teasingly lapping everywhere except where you need him most.

“Minho, stop teasing,” You whine, pulling his hair harder. He groans, his tongue finally entering you. With his tongue thrusting into you and his nose hitting your clit every so often, it was only a matter of time until you reached the edge. 

“Fuck, Minho I’m gonna cum,” You moan out, arching your back.

“Cum around my tongue baby,” He says against your cunt, the vibration pushing you over the edge.You came with a loud moan, Minho helping you ride out your high with his tongue. You felt exhausted but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. 

“Can you get up, love? We don’t have to do anymore if you’re too tired,” He says, clearly concerned. You smile at how much he clearly cares for you. 

“I’m okay,” You tell him, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He offers his hand to help you up and you take it. Once you’re up, Minho starts kissing you. You kiss him back, your hands immediately back in his hair. 

“Do you mind if I record this, baby? I want to be able to reminisce on our 1st anniversary,” He says, smiling. You smile back, remembering him talking about wanting to record you guys one time.

“Please do,” You reply, winking at him. His smile widens and he gets off the bed to set his phone up. When he comes back, he positions himself behind you. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, lining his dick up with your entrance. Instead of answering him, you back yourself up, his cock slipping in. 

“Mmmm, fuck,” He moans out, surprised by your actions, gripping your hips to steady himself.

“Minho, please move,” You plead, clenching around his cock. He starts slamming into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He moves his hands from your hips to your ass, smacking and grabbing. The pain slowly turns into pleasure and before you know it, the only sounds in the room are pants, moans and skin slapping together. Minho grabs a fistful of your hair with one of his hands and pulls it back, forcing your head back. With his other hand, he finds your clit and starts circling it. You moan loudly, about to reach your high for the second time this morning. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” Minho moans out, his eyes rolled back. You moan in agreement, your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure he’s giving you. Once you both reach your high, you collapse from exhaustion. 

Minho shuts off the camera and gets a wet cloth to clean you up. Once he's done cleaning you up, he goes into your closet and gets you some new clothes. He helps you slip into them and helps you back into bed.

“I’m gonna go make us some food, love,” Minho tells you as he tucks you back into bed. Oh, how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like him.

[girl-lostconnection]

I'm so sorry you have to deal with people being so demanding, and I hope that they actually listen to your post and stop, cause it's just really rude in general.

On the other hand, I, for some reason, keep thinking about your story of reader dying and the 141 grieving and how, for me personally, when it comes to one of my loved ones, no matter how much time passes, I just can't stop thinking about them, craving their love, the way that they loved, and how you can see the similarities in others but it isn't quite right, it still doesn't feel the same, and you're just never left satisfied when you want their love again and no one else can do that, because it's not them. You're still loved, yes, but it's not the same.

Idk. I just was thinking about that and was wondering if that's what they might feel. They still have each other and love each other, but I wonder if there are times when they want or feel like they need it to be like reader's way to feel better on some days, where little things that upset them were originally made better by something reader did, but now that they're gone they're just left with that feeling to simmer.

You know one of the things I had to learn while dealing with grief — it doesn’t become smaller. You just get bigger, you get more experiences the older you get and all of that grief is still there. But grief is just what is left of your love for the person who is no longer there.

I think for them it would manifest differently but I can definitely see Johnny trying his best to keep going because he knows he has three more partners and they have to keep going and they have to keep living. Because Reader wouldn’t be happy with them just ending it all, because there is so much more time left, so many things they haven’t done. I think for him it would be one of the things that would eventually result in early retirement. He already lost a quarter of his heart when he lost Reader, he doesn’t want it happening again. And as much as he loves being demolitions expert, he knows there is a different type of life out there. One that can give him and his partners stability and safety.

I think Johnny would be the person that despite it all still sometimes talks about Reader like they are still there. He mentions references to movies and music and books, he draws them in his sketchbooks, he mentions that “this is the dessert they always wanted to try”. With time it turns into a warm kind of nostalgia, the love that he carries with him, his grief manifesting in trying to compensate for everything Reader wouldn’t experience by living through it himself. And by living on. When his time comes he hopes to see Reader again and say “see? I did well, didnae i? It was a good life. A long life, like you wanted. Bet you are proud of me”

Like i mentioned before Kyle took it in one of the worst hits, he’d keep holding onto Reader’s clothes and mementos as long as he can. He googles obsessively brands of clothes, he finds exactly the same articles because even if these get ruined or good forbid someone throws them out — he will know what to order. It won’t be the same, but he could pretend that it is. He already pretends that he’s alright, he already pretends that the hoodies he’s wearing with Reader’s name and rank are just part of his standard uniform.

I feel like Kyle is a person who has never experienced a loss this big before. He never lost someone who was this close, someone who’s still in his head, someone whose voice he keeps hearing when he talks to himself. Kyle likes to imagine that Reader never passes on. That they are still there, maybe noncorporeal, maybe he can’t see them, but at this point he’d settle for anything.

I think Kyle was never one for religion but whenever he passes church he’d get in to light a candle and say a quick not even a prayer but sort of a wish. Like that’s the only way he can chat with you, like something holy could really pass his “I’m okay, love, I’m eating well. Last mission was shite, but you know how it is. You no longer come to me when i dream. Are you upset, baby? I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time, i know you don’t like me getting injured. Just please, come back. I can’t sleep well without you.”

Simon would probably have the hardest times adjusting to the absence of Reader, because he takes the longest time to accept their death. He tries so hard to pull away from the moment where he would need to actually process the notion that it finds him itself and hits him with the force of minivan.

There is aching that he can’t relief, there is itch he can scratch — there is a person who he could tell any of his jokes and who’d not just joke in return but laugh at it and this person is gone. They are not coming back, he can’t even find them somewhere to watch out of the shadows, he can’t stalk them.

Losing people like that is always the hardest because with living people you at least can call/text/send a letter with a carrier pigeon. You can come back and open old wounds, you can pick up the fight, you can look them in the eyes and get some closure. Simon is not getting any. He fights every step of the way, he drags his feet. He’s easily agitated, he feels like hitting his head on the wall every time something stabs him from inside reminding that you are gone.

He comes up with a joke and yeah, of course he can tell it to anyone out of 141, but he wants to tell it to Reader. He wants to tell it to them specifically because they’d have a funny response which they’d choke out of themselves by laughing so hard he actually starts laughing. He misses it. He misses them. He misses their smell, the feel of them, the way he could talk to them and they would just get him so well like no one else would. He doesn’t just lose a partner when Reader dies — he loses a friend.

Price is…Price is complicated. He’s one to bottle it all up and throw it so deep down it may never come up other in his subconscious habits. He makes tea for five people and not four, he shops for five, he still buys the snacks Reader liked, he starts planning celebration for their birthday just on the back of his mind until he catches himself doing it and just forces it all down deeper.

Price would be a high functioning alcoholic in his grief, but still an alcoholic. He drinks a little more than he should, he forces down a drink he’d previously wouldn’t because he knows his limits. But it burns and it numbs and for a few hours he can breathe again. Alcohol allows himself to loosen a lid on everything he feels, it puts safe distance between his feeling and him and he actually allows himself to process some of them.

He cries, he ruins his office, he punches through the wall, he routinely throws up. Once he gets so drunk he actually starts having hallucinations, intoxication so severe he almost chokes on his own vomit. Soap finds him just in time to get him help. After this he gets out on suicide watch for 72 hours and the team would start actually guard him in shifts.

Price still drinks but now next to him there is always someone who also remembers his limits and doesn’t let him overstep them. John hates it at times. He hates himself much more though. He hates Reader sometimes too, because that’s not fair that they are gone. Because look what a fucking mess he is, love, bloody disgrace to drink himself under the fucking table.

Price has the fastest adjustment to Reader staying deceased but at the same time he can’t fully process his grief. Part of him is scared that he will drive himself mad if he does, another part just doesn’t want to. It’s stubborn and unhealthy but so what. He’s a captain, he lost soldiers before, he’s gonna deal with it this way.

But i think he’s also the second person who retires straight after Soap because he finds a new almost obsessively-desperate purpose in keeping his boys alive and well. He may be a fucked up man but his boys already lost one of their own, he doesn’t want to drag them through his death as well

[writing-for-marvel]

I’m back on the hurt train ready to get absolutely railed again

I’m pretty sure I said this in my first read of the chapter but the fact that your amazing mind chose to start and end this chapter, a fic about time loops, in flashbacks is actually genius

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

Oh this just feels so Nat, you’re characterisation feels so spot on, even down to the detail of her just needing to stare reader down and reader just keeps rambling like shes justifying herself

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You obviously can’t see me but I literally flinched out of the way reading this like it was me she had done this to 😂 but I love this scene with Nat so much, it’s such a *her* thing to do, the details are just perfect

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

Literally took the words out of my mouth

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

I love the inner monologue you have written, it’s honestly so refreshing and actually hilarious

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

Stop it we can’t have more death and grief than we do already please

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not.

Literally flash back to what I said before about reader just rambling under her stare without her saying a single word

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

Eeeee they make me giddy 🥰🥰🥰

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

I’m literally just giggling and kicking my feet every time they interact

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

Oh my baby 😭 just the thought of him sleeping on the floor for comfort actually hurts my soul

With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

Oh she takes his advice 🥺🥺🥺

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

See I knew this was coming this time and yet it still felt like a shock to the system!!!

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

If someone comes into my room and insults one of my favourite books you can best believe I am finally learning to throw a punch and clock them in the jaw

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

She cares so much about Bucky that she’s activated the time stone??? Nika your mind wtf 🤯🤯🤯

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

I’m just sat here waiting with bated breath for this whole sequence

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

You’re telling me he dies in every rendition of this god damn day Nika it’s too painfulllllllll

Bucky figuring out that somethings wrong 😭😭 they barely spend any time together and yet he’s already worked her out 😭😭 don’t mind me imma just sob over here

Things were finally starting to look up.

Right just the kick to the gut I needed at the end of this torture (affectionate; I love it)

Nika I love it, I am after two chapters already pulling my hair out every time we have to see Bucky die, but the story itself is exceptional!!

Your writing style is absolutely gorgeous, I always feel so present in the moment with all of their conversations, all the characters feel so *real*, I adore them all

And I honestly can’t say enough about the magic system in place and readers powers, like I’m bewildered by how your gorgeous mind came to that. I can’t wait to dive more into it and learn the backstory behind it all

time after time [2]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, the angst continues, another reminder to read the fic premise; a couple of guest appearances; flashbacks are my establishing shots and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: 2am updates are kind of my brand at this point. big shout-out to @barnesafterglow who read a good chunk of this yesterday and is still talking to me <3 thank you all for your patience and your love for chapter one!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

two: twice upon a time

The first time you met Natasha Romanoff in person, a few weeks after the Snap, she only had to look at you for a couple of seconds to be able to read you like a book.

They’d compiled a file, of course, filled with all the general academic credits and official family information that was still available to the public and definitely more than a few things you’d tried to bury, too. Even then, the folder was reassuringly slim.

She’d have to take you at your word about what you’d come to offer her, anyway.

“And why would we want to have you?” she asked. As if she were interviewing you for a job. Which, technically speaking, she was.

You were on edge and Natasha knew it, even though you tried to hide your ever twitching fingers in your lap under the table, picking at the skin around your nails until you felt it break. You took a deep breath.

“Look, I know that I’m not exactly a soldier, or a—a superhero type, but I … I don’t know, I would just like to use my … thing to do good, for once. You know, stuff that will help people.”

And do it on your own terms. It stayed unsaid, then. You didn’t admit that part until much later.

Natasha’s face stayed perfectly neutral through your rambling, and you weren’t sure whether that was calming you down or making you more anxious. You reached for your necklace, tugging at the chain.

“But I can’t really do that on my own,” you continued, “and you, well, all of you, you’ve done it for a while and you’re good at it. And I think I could help with that.”

She still didn’t say anything, just kept waiting while you sat awkwardly in that uncomfortable office chair, regretting your decision of ever following through with your crazy impulsive idea of coming here.

But where else would you have gone?

“Also,” you remarked in a sudden burst of boldness, “I think you could use every extra pair of hands you can get at the moment.”

There was something almost like bemusement that appeared in the curl of Natasha’s lip, but she didn’t kick you out, which you took as a sign that your little outburst might have been closer to the truth than you’d really expected. You leaned back ever so slightly.

You couldn’t be sure, then, if she’d pieced together what little information they’d had on you in your file or if she’d just figured you out while you were sitting in this office, but it didn’t make all that much of a difference. She didn’t have to ask why you’d decided to offer up your abilities to the Avengers now, after everything, when they’d been hidden away for most of your life.

“You’re lonely. And you need a purpose, like all of us,” she said, looking you up and down apprehensively.

Then, without warning, she threw her glass at you.

You flinched to the side and it shattered on the wall behind you. The leftover drink slowly sank into the carpet as you turned to stare at her in shock.

Natasha lifted one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows. “You wanna try that again?”

Really, you should’ve expected the test.

You closed your eyes and raised your hands.

It’s a strange experience, going back in time. No one had really asked you to describe what it was like, and you probably couldn’t have if you tried. It felt a little like retracing your own steps in your head, relocating your conscience to an earlier moment, second by second, in a rapid backwards motion. Like very vivid remembering. Only, it’s not just that.

“You’re lonely,” Natasha said, swirling the dregs of her glass, her green eyes tracing over you. “And you need a purpose, like all of us.”

You were expecting it this time, but the glass still slipped through your fingers and broke into tiny shards on the floor. Not good enough. You didn’t wait for her reaction this time, cursing under your breath and pulling yourself back again. As always, it took considerably more effort.

You tried your best not to stare at the glass while Natasha spoke, but you didn’t really listen anymore. This time, you caught it, even though its contents spilled over your hand.

Natasha smirked. “Not bad. First try?”

“This is when I lie to sound capable, right?” You shook the liquid off your fingers, sure she’d already noticed the sweat on your temples. No use in lying to a spy, anyway, you supposed, so you admitted, “Third.”

“We’ll work on that. But honesty’s a good start.” She held out her hand and you returned the glass. “Have you ever done combat training?”

You could barely stifle a nervous laugh. “Do I look like I’ve ever done combat training?”

“I don’t tend to judge people based on how they appear,” Natasha said, uncrossing her legs. “Come with me.”

You followed her back out of the office into the wide, empty hallway. You hadn’t seen anyone else around on the whole Compound, even though it could probably house hundreds of people on the ground floor alone. The clacking sound of your steps on the tiled floor seemed to echo all around you.

It felt like you were announcing yourself to everyone within a two-mile radius while Natasha moved around on her bare feet without a single sound.

A glass elevator took you down to the subterranean level of the building. Once the doors slid open, Natasha marched straight to a double door with square windows and large metal handlebars.

“Leave your shoes and bag by the door,” she told you. She waited for you to untie your laces and awkwardly wiggle out of your boots before she let you both in.

The Compound gym was even bigger than you’d expected. You weren’t sure if you were more surprised by that revelation or by the presence of a certain super soldier kicking the life out of a punching bag on the other side of the hall.

“Hey Rogers,” Natasha shouted as it got smacked to the ground. “Brought a new recruit!”

“Really?” he called back, unwrapping the bandages around his knuckles.

“Really?” you said. Sure, that was what you came here for, but even so, you were a little shocked it had been that simple.

“Like you said, we’re a little desperate at the moment,” she winked.

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered anxiously as Captain America jogged over to join you, a towel thrown over his shoulder. Despite his workout, he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile.

You shook it, slightly bewildered, and introduced yourself. He repeated your name back at you and you had to take a moment to think how strange this whole situation was, even in all the madness that’d been going on. How unreal.

“I’m sure it’ll be good to have ya,” he said, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time.

Meanwhile, Natasha had dragged one of the thick foam mats away from the heavy equipment and rolled it out. Cracking her neck, she stepped onto it and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Okay. Show me how you’d throw a punch.”

She held out her hands flat in front of her and nodded her head for you to join her on the mat. You’d never felt so stupid in your life as you tried to rack your brains for whatever little you took from those self-defense lessons however long ago. At least Captain Goddamn America seemed to be politely ignoring you in favor of putting some weights away.

“Just move on instinct, you’re not getting graded,” Natasha said calmly.

Your instincts were telling you you were absolutely getting graded and this was your worst idea to date, but you tried your best. She had you aim at different heights a few times before she stopped you.

“Okay, your posture’s terrible. You have to straighten your back and bend your knees more, see?” She demonstrated the right stance, waiting for you to copy her. “There you go. That’s your standard pose.”

“Alright,” you said, testing it out with a little bounce. “And what do I do with that?”

“Depends on what you’re trying to do. With the right training, you can use your own weight to your advantage in a fight. Steve?”

“Oh, great, am I volunteering?” He joined you on the mat and you moved to give the two of them enough space.

“You love it. Now watch me,” she added, looking at you.

Before Steve could even properly raise up his arms, Natasha launched into a handflip and somehow managed to wrap her legs around his body. The sudden movement made him stumble backwards. He lurched his body forwards to get her off his shoulders, but she used the momentum of her fall to kick him off his feet onto the mat. She gracefully landed on all fours like a cat. It looked effortless.

“You’re right,” Steve groaned, “this is very fun for me.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna be able to do that,” you said flatly.

“I don’t expect you to,” Natasha said, pulling her hair behind her ears again. “But you do have to be able to survive in a fight, even without your powers, if you want to join the team. We can’t babysit you.”

You pressed your lips together, slowly curling your hands into fists and opening them again.

“Alright,” you said, your voice strangely dry. “When do we start?”

*****

Your initial reaction is relief.

Relief, because it’s Friday again, which means nothing has actually happened, which means Bucky is still alive.

Then, the implications of that fact hit you all at once.

You must’ve blacked out for a second or two, because when you open your eyes again, you’re lying on the floor next to your bed, heart still pounding a mile an hour. Your breath comes out in short gasps, and you force it to slow just in time for the knock on the door.

“Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!”

“Just gimme a minute!” you shout back and stumble to the bathroom.

Your hands and face are speckled with blood and you wash it off furiously, biting your lip as the tiny cuts on your skin left by the glass shards burn under your touch. Turning off the faucet, you keep leaning onto the basin and stare at your hands.

You’re not sure what you expected. Your rings are still the blackest you’ve ever seen them, and the dimly glowing symbols keep slowly circling around your wrist. It doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, because once is a coincidence, a strange, fateful accident, but twice is a pattern. And of course you’ve heard about this kind of thing happening. Only not like this.

Life everlasting.

No. Definitely not like this.

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

“Did you get lost in there?” Sam remarks with a grin when you finally step out of your room, still looking slightly disheveled.

“I—” You stop yourself, blinking at him until he starts looking slightly concerned.

“You alright? You look …” His eyebrows raise even higher. “Shell-shocked.”

Well, this isn’t exactly an everyday occurence even for me, Samuel, you want to tell him. Instead, you say, “Don’t ever wake me up like that again.” It lacks yesterday’s punch.

“Sweet white teenage angst not your style?”

You hum, but don’t reply otherwise, still lost in thought as you climb the stairs, trying to assess your situation and come up with some sort of plan.

It’s fairly obvious you fucked up your reset the other day. So much for the precious space-time continuum; oh, you hate it when the wizard people are right every now and then.

You glance sideways at Sam while he stretches his back in the ring. He seems fine, completely normal, unaware of what’s going on with you, and of course he would be. Nothing unusual about that part of your powers. Or what’s left of them.

You raise your hands experimentally.

“I’m not high-fiving you until you get one kick in, at least.”

Not even the slightest hitch. It’s like your powers have just up and left you completely. A strange heaviness settles in your stomach. Fucking useless.

You avert your burning eyes from Sam’s gaze.

It’s not like you … talk.

None of you do, not really. Sure, you chat. You’re great at chatting. You’ve had years, countless tries of perfecting smalltalk, of knowing the things you can get away with saying to certain people. It’s made you reckless in the past, knowing you could probably replay entire conversations in the blink of an eye, the pressure of expectation gone completely.

Ever since you started coming out of hiding again, though, the fun has drizzled out of that more and more. It’s one thing to impress strangers and another to be several steps ahead of the people you’ve started to consider your friends.

Because even though sometimes it sure would be easier, having people un-live conversations they’ve had with you, particularly hard or emotional ones, is sort of a shitty move if you continue to spend your time around them afterwards. And you’ve grown determined to not intentionally hurt people with your powers. Not anymore.

So yes, you chat. You know Sam’s favorite color and the video games his nephews want for their birthdays. You know what kind of music Bucky listens to, mostly because he forgets to turn on the soundproofing in his room and Jazz trumpets are surprisingly loud. You know their habits, the foods they like, the movies they hate.

But you don’t … share. Nothing that goes deeper than the general stuff.

It’s moments like these that make you miss Nat the most.

There was something about that woman that made everyone around her open up, whether they wanted to or not. You’re almost resolved to call her as soon as you get back to your room before you remember.

You’re gonna have to do this on your own. Back to square one.

“What is up with you today?”

“I’m fine,” you grunt, but make no effort to get back up again. “Didn’t sleep well. Ow.” You narrow your eyes at Sam. “Did you just kick me?”

“I wanted to see if you’re still alive.”

“Horrible. I’m quitting. You can go spar with Bucky again.”

“At least he puts up a fight.” Sam crouches down next to you. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

Yes. You shake your head. He probably wouldn’t believe you, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, clapping you on the shoulder. You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna hit the showers. But we’re doing a rain check for tomorrow, and you sort out your pea under the mattress situation.”

“Okay.”

You listen to Sam’s receding steps and the sound of the door opening and closing again. Then, there’s nothing but silence and the ticking of the clock on the far wall.

Even though you know you should probably just head out as well, you can’t help but linger again. Just in case.

“You look like shit.”

Your head rolls to the side. Fuck you, Barnes. “Hey, Buck.”

Same spot on the bench next to the ring, same hunched over position, same concentrated look on his face while he cleans up the shimmering golden nooks in his arm.

“Buck?” He huffs, even though he continues to wear his usual exasperated expression. “Did Sam hit you in the head?”

You don’t answer, just keep staring at his profile for a little while longer. Your eyes are drawn to the nape of his neck, to the center of his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Bucky says lowly. You turn your gaze back to the ceiling.

“Nothing,” you answer, pulling an arm over your eyes. The sweatband rubs against your eyebrow.

Maybe, you think, just maybe, it could still be a fluke. Only one more time to get things right, and then all will just go back to normal. Maybe you’ll be fine today. He’ll be fine.

There’s a buzzing in your ears, and you’re not sure if it comes from the green symbols gyrating around your arm or if you’re just imagining it altogether.

“What happened to your face?” Bucky asks unexpectedly, casually, as if he were talking about the weather.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you dove head-first into a rose bush.”

“Hah.” You slowly sit up, your muscles aching for a hot shower. Three days of training and fighting in a row are not agreeing with your body. “Must’ve scratched myself in my sleep.”

If he sees through your lie, he doesn’t call you out on it. “Didn’t know you have talons.”

You raise your eyebrows in fake surprise. It’s so easy to fall back into your usual bickering, even with everything that’s going on. “You’re right, I don’t. Your cat probably got into my room again and let out her past week’s aggressions.”

“My cat slept soundly, thank you very much,” Bucky says dryly.

“See, that’s exactly what she wants you to think.”

“Funny.” He stands up, hanging the piece of cloth over the side of the boxing ring to air out. “Take the towel on the right, I already used the other one.”

“Thanks, Buck,” you say with a smirk. He ignores you.

***

The shower is what brings your mood back down again. In the silence of the water hitting your back, there’s enough time for you to think about the upcoming day that you’ve already been through twice.

Up until the mission, it’s gone by fine, unremarkably so, which only makes the build-up to the evening even worse, in your opinion. You face the stream of hot water directly, trying to rid yourself of the image of Bucky lying on the floor, bleeding out in front of you.

You need to be rational about this.

First, you need to figure out what’s going on with your powers. Then, you have to make up your mind about lunch, because while you don’t exactly resent the thought of your third pizza in as many days, your stomach sadly doesn’t agree with that notion. And finally, you’re going to break this damn cycle you’re in. Easy as that.

You turn off the shower with your newfound resolve and grab the clean towel.

Your determination lasts up until you get back to your room and realize you don’t actually know how you are going to fix your powers. They’ve always been somewhat fickle, unpredictable even to you, acting up whenever it’s most inconvenient. Impossible.

No one has ever been able to tell you where they came from, nor how you could properly control them. Everything you know you had to figure out through trial and error, replaying the same scenario over and over again, and, more often than not, lucky coincidences.

Usually, when your rings are black and your powers are weakened, it helps to let your body regain its strength first. In other words, you need to sleep.

This is something you probably should have thought through before getting your morning coffee with an extra shot of espresso, out of habit, but that’s not something you can change right now.

The living room area wouldn’t usually be your first choice for a midday nap, but you’re not ready to face the bloodstains on your bedding quite yet, so you’ll have to make do with one of the suspiciously IKEA-looking throw pillows on the couch. The TV is chattering away in the background, just loud enough to somewhat distract you from your own thoughts.

It’s not enough to fall asleep, though.

You keep tossing and turning, half-listening to three or four episodes of some nineties sitcom, while your anxiety gnaws away at your insides. There’s a constant low pounding in your head that drives you up the wall, and again you swear you can hear the symbols looping around your wrist. You keep scratching at your sweatband, but it’s no use.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the pattering of small paws makes you sigh in disdain.

There’s an obnoxiously loud meowing close to your feet, followed by a sudden weight dropping on your stomach that almost invites your garlic bread back up for a double feature. You peer out at the white shape on top of you, innocently toying with the hem of your shirt.

In general, you like cats just fine, but something about Alpine has always unsettled you. Sure, she’s a cute-looking ball of fluff, but she’s also quick to scratch unsuspecting people bending down to pet her, and she seems to have a particular bone to pick with you.

“Maybe she’s just a good judge of character,” Sam jokes whenever you complain about it.

“She doesn’t like you any better.”

“Yeah, but I’m allergic to her,” Sam shrugs. “The farther she stays away, the more a favor it’s doing me.”

In truth, the only person Alpine likes is Bucky, and she loves to show it every chance she gets.

“You’re in her spot.”

Alpine graciously allows you to push up to your elbows with a groan. Bucky’s tall figure is looming over your head; there’s a bemused expression on his face. He must’ve just walked in through the door, because he’s still wearing his jacket.

“Why does the cat need a spot on the couch, exactly?” You try to shoo her off your lap, but Alpine digs her claws deeper into your shorts and you wince. “You really need to teach her manners.”

“You gotta be gentle with her,” Bucky says, pulling her off you without a hitch. “Move over.”

You swing your legs off the couch with a roll of your eyes. “Can’t you sit somewhere else?”

“Nope. This is my spot, too.”

“Great,” you sigh, angling yourself away from him. “I’ll be sure to make a reservation next time.”

Alpine starts purring as Bucky scratches her under the chin. “You watchin’ that?”

“I was trying to nap,” you mumble, throwing him the remote with a little more force than necessary. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Thirteen twelve hours.”

“Please stop just saying numbers when I ask you that.”

Bucky smirks again and switches channels. “Quarter past one-ish.”

You blink at him tiredly, surprised to find out he’s been back so early. The past two days, you didn’t see him around again until the broadcast was about to start. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention at that point, either.

There’s that tick in his jaw that he always gets when something is bothering him, even as he’s distracted by a playful cat in his lap. You’d better relieve him of the burden of your presence.

“Well,” you say, standing up. Alpine whines indignantly at the sudden movement. “I’ll try to find a cat-free spot in this tower, then.”

“Try the floor,” Bucky says as you’re almost out of the room. He doesn’t turn when you do, but he seems to feel your questioning gaze. “If you can’t sleep. It helps, sometimes.”

You hide your hands in your pants pockets, even though it’s far too late by now. He’s already noticed your black rings.

With a short hum, you briskly walk back to your room, leaning against the door as it closes behind you. This is getting ridiculous, you think, worrying the ring on your pinkie finger with your thumb. As if you didn’t have enough reasons to get a hold of your powers again; you don’t know what you would do if Bucky really got suspicious of you now.

Taking a deep breath, you eye your bed. Compared to yesterday, the blood stains on your sheets are barely more than a few specks, because you weren’t as close to Bucky when it happened. Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“Fine,” you mutter in annoyance, grabbing one of your pillows and throwing it on the floor next to your bed. “FRIDAY, can you wake me in time for Sam’s speech?”

“Of course,” FRIDAY tells you. “Do you want me to use the same song as this morning?”

“Please don’t.” A little idea pipes up at the back of your head. “Do you have any record of playing that song before?”

“Last dates played. Friday, July 4th 2025, 07:50 a.m. Playtime: forty-five seconds. Thursday, March 13th 2014, 02:49 a.m. Playtime: one hour, twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. End of record.”

Interesting night for Tony, then, but not exactly telling when it comes to your time loop situation. With a sigh, you get settled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling until your eyes get too tired.

You’ll think of something once you’ve had a bit of sleep. He’ll be fine.

And then, just as you’re finally about to drift off, you feel a sudden jolt go through you. It’s a bizarre sensation, like you’re falling and jumping at the same time, but your body isn’t actually moving with you. Like someone pulling at your very consciousness.

Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air.

You’re still in your room, which should be good news, but everything looks … weird. Not as out of focus as it would be if you were simply dreaming, but somehow crooked, the angles unusually pronounced. The colors are all off, the lights way lower than they should be this time of day, and when you reach out for the edge of your bed, your hands—

You take a sharp breath. Your fingers are bare, no trace of your rings anywhere, and even worse, your hands are partly transparent. Cautiously, you get up on your equally as see-through legs and turn around.

When you see your own body still lying in bed next to where you’re standing, you almost trip over your own feet.

You stare at yourself in disbelief. One of your body’s hands is tucked under the pillow, and it’s breathing regularly. Carefully, you take a step closer and reach out your noncorporeal hand. Your shoulder feels warm and solid underneath your fingertips.

Your body wrinkles its nose in its sleep and you jerk back again, losing your balance and falling to the floor. Your body doesn’t react at all, even though you pull part of the blanket with you as you go down.

“Okay. This is a dream,” you tell yourself, even though you feel your heart pounding. “Just some weird-ass dream, and I have to wake up.” Again, you can’t help but look at the sleeping body lying in your bed.

You press your hands over your eyes, willing yourself to slow your breathing. The edge of your nightstand jabs you painfully between the shoulder blades, too real to be nothing more than an act of your imagination.

“You’re not what I expected.”

The man’s voice makes you flinch slightly. Slowly, you peek through your fingers.

You either didn’t notice him while you were taking in your surroundings or he’s just blended in with them seamlessly, although you’re not sure how that last one could even be a possibility. His back is turned to you, his frame covered by a long, deep red cloak with intricate patterns stitched along the seams. He’s perusing your bookshelf, picking up old copies seemingly at random.

For some reason, your shock at the sight of him is outweighed by immediate irritation. Something about the man instantly irks you.

“Thanks, I think,” you tell him, throwing the edge of the blanket over your sleeping body again as you get up, never letting the man out of your sight.

He turns around, one of his eyebrows raised. Your eyes immediately fall on the amulet around his neck and your heart gives a stutter. You ignore it.

“Not a compliment.” He holds up a book. “This is how you spend your time, then?”

It’s one of your favorite comfort novels. You take good care of your books for the most part, but this one is quite battered; you’ve been bringing it with you on missions for years. A bit of home that fits into your pocket and helps calming you down on countless quinjet rides better than pictures ever could.

“Sue me for trying to relax in between saving the world,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Of course,” the man says wryly. “Because god forbid you use those powers of yours to their full extent, we wouldn’t want that.”

“And what’s it to you?” you snap.

The man calmly puts the book down again; not where he picked it up from, you notice in annoyance.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” he says, watching your face for your reaction. “Ah, so you have heard of me.”

Of course you have. You know who he is, you must’ve seen his picture hundreds of times during the Blip, and even before that, you’d heard about his reputation. As one of the keepers of the time stone back when it still existed, he’s on your list of people you least want to see, ever.

You narrow your eyes at him. “How did you find me? What—” You take a quick look back at your own sleeping form. “What is this place?”

“The astral plane,” he says, swiping your bookshelf for dust and inspecting his fingertips contemptuously. They’re shaking ever so slightly. “Something you would know if you hadn’t spent the past decade avoiding every single chance to use your powers responsibly.”

“Wow,” you huff. “You don’t know anything about me or about my powers.”

“Don’t I, Y/N Y/L/N?” Strange’s cloak flaps slightly as if it were shrugging.

“I spent the last couple of years trying to save lives.”

“You’re riding on luck and pretend it’s control. You have no idea what this could do to the grand scheme of things.”

“Well, I never asked for these powers, okay?” you say defensively. “I just have them. What I don’t have is any interest in being a pawn in some grand scheme of things when I never wanted any of this.”

“People don’t generally get a choice in that matter.” His gaze drops to your wrist. “And now look where your resistance to accept your responsibilities got you.”

The green band of symbols is still leisurely circling around your arm. You bite your tongue. “I don’t know how that happened,” you say, your voice breaking slightly on the last word.

“It happened because you activated the time stone,” Strange sneers. “Your powers are a lot stronger than you even care to realize, and it was idiotic to keep them a secret.”

“Why, so you could use them for your own gain?”

“So I could prevent this exact kind of thing from happening.”

You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “So end it, then. Or did you drag me here just to berate me?”

Strange chuckles humorlessly. “This is not something others can just fix for you, Miss Y/L/N. You cast a very powerful spell in creating this loop, and you are the only one who can lift it again.”

“Great. I’m screwed, then, is that what you’re saying?” You might not be inside of your body at the moment, but you can still feel your cheeks heating up. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“You need to calm down,” Stange says sharply.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, get out of my—head, or whatever this is. Get out!”

“Alright then. Continue to play stubborn. See how far it gets you.” He holds out his right hand and there’s a crack in the air behind him; almost like a doorway, or a mirror. “I’ll be here when you’re done acting like a child.”

You come to on your bedroom floor, feeling almost more tired than you did when you laid down earlier. It takes your bleary eyes a moment to adjust to your surroundings again. When you sit up, a thin throw blanket that you don’t remember pulling over your shoulders falls into your lap.

This really is just a whole bunch of disasters stacked on top of each other.

You don’t even have to look at your rings to know there’s still not the slightest green spec in sight. Your fingers find your necklace and you tug slightly to reassure yourself of its presence. How the hell did Strange even find you?

There’s no time to think about it for too long, because once again, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“We got a lead on that lab,” Sam shouts on the other side. “Jet’s leaving in half an hour, get ready.”

You blink at the clock on your wall in confusion. Even though you feel like you only spent a couple of minutes in this other dimension you were dragged into, several hours have passed in this one.

Time is seriously out of your hands, and it’s only getting worse.

***

“Don’t you think that maybe they have an alarm set or something?” you say, contemplating the explosives laid out in front of you.

Sam raises his eyebrows, adjusting the intercom chip in his ear. “Is that a hunch or are you telling me?”

“Both.” You flex your fingers. “It’s just that announcing ourselves probably isn’t in our best interest right now.”

“And you couldn’t have said that earlier? As in, before we landed?” Sam sighs.

Bucky snorts as you shrug your shoulders helplessly. Your body desperately needed the half hour of uneasy sleep the flight has afforded it, even though your powers seem to be unimpressed by it.

“Look, it’s gonna be fine,” Sam continues, squeezing your arm. “We’ve handled worse. Besides, if they do have an alarm set, they’re gonna come to us whether we knock down that wall or not.”

“I guess,” you mumble, grabbing the explosives. “Let’s play knock-knock with terrorists then, that oughtta be fun.”

“Reminds me of ‘44,” Bucky says, more to himself than to either of you.

When you follow Sam down the hallway once again, you can’t help but search for the cameras you know are hidden here somewhere, but it’s impossible to tell in the dingy light. You should bring a stronger flashlight next ti—no.

You blink, stopping that thought before it’s fully formed.

There won’t be a next time. This thing ends tonight, once and for all.

Third time’s the charm, right?

About as charming as a kick to the face, you think as you find yourself delivering just that.

Sam takes off. “We better get moving. If you take care of the drive and these idiots, I’ll clear the tunnels for a way out of here!”

Bucky catches Sam’s shield as you disarm the white jacket with the knife and duck as the shots ring out. You’re sweating in your kevlar vest.

“Two o’clock, Bucky,” you tell him, throwing another punch. You’re so sick of this white-coated asshole in particular; it’s like they think you’re in the rumble from West Side Story. “And whatever you do, don’t throw that shield, alright?”

“You’re bossy today,” Bucky huffs, taking out the one with the blaster.

“I think you mean thorough,” you reply as Riff finally goes out cold.

“You tell yourself that.” He reloads his gun instead, shield firmly locked around his right arm. “How much longer for the transfer?”

You glance at the monitors and try to remember. “About a minute, maybe two.”

“Sam, you copy?” The last white jacket goes down.

“Ready for take-off in five,” Sam confirms cheerfully. “Heads-up, there’s at least another dozen heading your way.”

“Got it.” Bucky bumps your shoulder as he starts back towards the computers, leaving you only a second to process the different turnout of events.

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

The only thing that differentiates this mission from the first one is that you haven’t had to jump back to know what to look out for, and therefore don’t suffer the immediate side effects a redo usually has on you. You suppose that’s what they initially expected your powers to be like; flawless, useful, magical.

It’s like a slap in the face, even though Bucky doesn’t realize he’s doing it. The fact that he really does think lesser of you because of your stupid, faulty powers stings more than you care to admit.

You shake yourself back to the present moment. “Take the drive and then get away from there!” you shout, trying to catch up with him. Your lungs are burning. “They’re gonna blow up the—”

The blast of the explosion throws you backwards and you land on one of the unconscious bodies on the ground. Coughing, you roll to your hands and knees.

“Wha—ppening?” Sam’s cut off voice comes through the broken comms.

“Bucky?” You stumble towards the flaming mess that was the lab corner.

He must have hit his head on the side of the big table, but the shield had protected him from the sharp edge. He’s pressing a hand to his wound and he’s conscious and fine. He’s fine.

You can’t stop a relieved laugh as you crouch down next to him. “Wanna get out of here or what?”

The reflection of the flames makes his eyes almost look green as he squints at you, groaning. “Geez, I hate you.”

“Come on, tough guy,” you say and he lets you pull him to his feet, almost toppling over at his unsteadiness. “Let’s get you home.”

You keep turning around as you make your way to the tunnels, keep looking back towards the staircase you came down, worrying about the reinforcements Sam told you about. Maybe that’s your mistake.

Because you haven’t made it this far before, you don’t think to check that the unconscious white jackets are all still unconscious.

You still have Bucky’s shield arm around your shoulder as he jerks, sensing the motion on his left before you do. He catches the first bullet with his metal arm as you twist out of your hold on him, grabbing your knife and whirling back around. He makes a side step, taking a big swing—

Only you told him not to throw the shield.

You fling your knife as fast as you can, but his single moment of hesitation was long enough for the trigger to be pulled a second time. You turn just in time to see the realization on Bucky’s face, the shock and panic in his eyes as they meet yours.

And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and–

“Okay, alright, turn it off, FRIDAY!”

By the time you wipe your mouth and flush the toilet with shaky knees, hair and face still caked with blood, you’re finally starting to understand how well and truly screwed you are.

***

You lean against the fridge, staring at Sam while he’s typing away at the kitchen island. He likes working standing up for some reason, particularly when he has to write some sort of statement.

“If I have to give the speech standing up, I’ve gotta write it standing up,” he’s explained it to you once. You can’t pretend to get it, but you suppose it’s also a perk to be within an arm’s length of snacks at all times while you’re getting stuff done.

“What do you want?” Sam says evenly. His gaze remains fixed on his laptop, his fingers never stopping to move.

You bite your lip. It’s a bad, very bad, terrible idea. You shouldn’t be bothering him with your fuck-up. You don’t even know how to go about it without having him laugh in your face.

“What if I told you that I’m stuck in a time loop?”

The question comes out weirdly flat, as if you’re joking. Fuck, what’s happening to you? You’ve always been fine with being the person who knows more than anyone else in the room. This situation though …

It’s different. It unrattles you in a way your powers never have, because even though it’s your own doing, it also seems so out of your control.

Sam raises an eyebrow, still not looking up. “I’d ask when you started drinking today and why you did it without me.”

Honestly, you should have expected something along these lines as long as you have no way of proving it to him.

“Well,” you say light-heartedly, as if you’re merely chitchatting. “What would you do if you were reliving the same day over and over again?”

“Enjoy my time off, probably,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m starving. Shouldn’t the food be here by now?”

You check your phone. “About half a minute.”

It gives you an idea for the future.

Lo and behold. You startle the poor delivery guy, opening the front door right before he can knock. “Hi,” you smile, handing him a generous tip. “We don’t know each other, right?”

“Uhm. What?”

“Do you have like, two minutes?”

“Did you have to haggle for them, first?” Sam calls over when you finally make it back to the kitchen, closing his laptop and helping you put down the boxes and containers on the counter.

“Had to convert to Pastafarianism,” you say, getting out the cutlery. “Ready for blasphemy?”

Sam chuckles.

By the time lunch is done and Sam has left for Madison Square Garden, another wave of exhaustion catches up with you. You pull your rings off and leave them on the table before you lie down on the second couch in the living room area, hoping that maybe this time, you’ll get a little bit of rest.

Only once again, it’s no use. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in the lab, watching Bucky get shot. The background buzz of the TV isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of your cursed memories.

Or the sound of the cat whining next to your ear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Alpine settles on your chest this time, leaving long white hairs all over your shirt and hitting you in the face with her tail. You grimace, trying not to inhale any of her fur.

“You’re in her spot.”

You don’t bother turning your aching head. “I thought her spot was over there!” you say accusingly, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the living room.

“Who told you that?” Bucky says, a bemused tone in his voice as he scoops Alpine up in his gloved hands, careful not to touch you. “Move over.”

You blink at him. You did.

You feel his expectant glare on you and sigh.

“Really, you too? We have plenty of room, you know.” You pull your knees in.

“I do,” he says, sitting down next to you and reaching underneath the cushions. “But you’re always hoggin’ the remote.”

You put your cold feet on his thigh in retaliation. Bucky tenses.

“How are you so cold, it’s like ninety degrees outside.”

“Emphasis on outside,” you shrug. “I just run cold.”

“That you do.” He switches channels, then pulls his gloves off and puts them on the table next to your rings.

You bite the inside of your cheek and roll to the floor inelegantly. Alpine meows in disdain, like a knife scratching the whole diameter of a dinner plate.

“Please tell your cat to chill, geez,” you mumble, slumping down on the other couch and stretching your legs out again with a contented sigh.

Bucky doesn’t reply.

“My dear girl,” a thickly accented voice on the TV says, “you cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. The evidence was definite. We can’t remove it by wishing or crying.”

“He trusted me,” a female voice answers. “I led him into a trap, I convicted him. Is that real enough for you?”

“There is no one to blame,” the first voice continues. “The case was a little deeper than you figured. This often happens. You must realize now one thing, it is over for both of you.”

“What are you watching?” you ask.

There’s a short pause before Bucky answers. “Hitchcock. Spellbound.”

You can’t help your reaction.

“Why’d you just do that?” Bucky says.

You stare at the ceiling. “Do what?”

“You flinched.”

“Did not.” You can taste blood in your mouth.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

You turn to the side and demonstratively stare at him, even though it makes your insides twist. Bucky’s face doesn’t change at all as he gazes back at you, frown deepening between his eyebrows. It’s like he’s trying to drown you with the endless blue of his eyes.

You drop your gaze and shake your head.

“What’s your point, Bucky? Not everyone likes staring at people like you do.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird. And invasive.”

“It’s invasive to look at you?”

“Yes,” you say, “if you do it like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know!” You sit back up again in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

You look at his face this time, not his eyes. It still makes your cheeks burn, because his jaw sets that way again and he doesn’t immediately respond.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, finally, and you hide your face between your hands in what you can only hope looks like frustration. Then you realize that that’s only making your missing rings more obvious.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you snap, balling your hands into fists.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you!”

“You promised,” Bucky says coolly. “Remember?”

Your stomach plummets.

“Yes,” you say, forcing your voice to stay calm. “But I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got this.”

You feel his eyes on your back all the way to your room, and you’re not sure if you’re lying to him or to yourself, even as you slam the door behind you and look anywhere but your bed.

Your book is lying in the wrong place.

*****

“Honestly, Nat, you could’ve killed her.”

“Don’t be dramatic. She’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

There were yellow dots dancing across your vision when you opened your eyes, groaning at the bright neon lights hitting you in the face.

You were lying on the mat in the gym of the Compound and your nose had been ripped clean off; at least that was what it felt like. Judging by your red-soaked shirt, your guess wasn’t that far off, though.

“Hey,” Natasha said, kneeling down next to you. “Sorry, that must hurt like a bitch.”

“Your head is bery solid,” you replied, touching the blood still dribbling down your face. “Ow.”

“Thank you,” she said and handed you a wet towel. “Put that in your neck and lean your head back.”

“Di’ I faind?”

“You knocked yourself out, honey,” she said with a sly grin.

“It isn’t funny, Nat,” Steve shouted. You snorted, then winced in pain.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha winked. “You’re gonna be as pretty as before once you clean up. Already reset your nose while you were out.”

“Thangs.”

Surprisingly, this was the first serious injury you’d sustained in the past couple of weeks you’ve been living as a rookie Avenger; though in truth, that was mostly due to the fact that Natasha had only had you build up your stamina and agility up until today. Your first proper day in the ring was nothing short of humiliating.

“You could always go back to the moment before you decided to headbutt me,” Natasha said once the bleeding had finally stopped.

You wiped your nose carefully, taking a few breaths to clear your airways. “Sadly, that’s not how it works,” you said, letting her help you slowly come upright again. “I’m the one moving through time, so I stay exactly the same. I can help you guys avoid the punches, but I’ll still be the one receiving them.”

Cursed to stay the same, just like you’d always said.

Natasha tilted her head. “That seems like something you could work on with proper help.”

You grimaced. “I’ve tried that before. There’s no one who can help me, no one who can … fix me, or my powers.”

There was worry in her eyes, then, and you were taken aback by how genuine it seemed. It left a crack in your shell.

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said quietly.

But it was. “I mean it,” you said, your lip twitching. “You can’t tell them that I’m here. For all they know, I got dusted just like everyone else.”

She knew; it had been the one condition you’d set in exchange for your help. That didn’t mean she had to like it.

There was a prolonged pause until Natasha nodded. “All the more reason to get you proper training,” she said, getting back to her feet and helping you up. “Let’s get you some ice cream. Good for the healing.”

You smiled when both she and Steve kept worrying about you the entire way to the kitchen, even though both of them tried hard not to make it obvious. It still filled you with a strange sense of warmth that almost had you forget about the pain.

You were safe here.

Things were finally starting to look up.

chapter three

thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚

[misswynters]

Picking baby names isnt easy...

short drabble

featuring. ekko x pregnant! reader

a/n. im sorry i just cant get enough of it, seriously (idk what this is but here you go everyone!) back from the dead

Soft rain sounds pattered against the windows as you sat in Ekko’s hideout, your feet propped up on a stack of cushions. The dim light cast a warm glow over the room, highlighting the scattered trinkets and gadgets Ekko had been working on. You were wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies, feeling cozy despite the growing weight of your belly.

Ekko paced back and forth across the room, muttering to himself as he tinkered with two small devices. He recently told you he was working on there cute anklets for the twins that would alert him if they were ever in danger. He already made one for you, at the back of it there was a small watch that could turn back time. But he emphasized that it should only be used if you were in a situation you knew you couldn't make it out alive. Luckily you never needed to use it. ANYWAYS. His movements were restless, like he couldn’t sit still. You watched him with a small smile, finding his energy endearing.

“Ekko,” you called softly, and he glanced up, his hands still fiddling with the wires.

“Yeah, Firefly?” he replied, tilting his head at you.

“Come sit with me,” you said, patting the space next to you.

His face softened immediately. “In a minute,” he said, though you could see him hesitating.

“Ekko,” you said again, a bit more pointedly. “I’m pregnant, and I want cuddles. Now.”

That did it. He set the baby anklets down with a laugh and crossed the room to you. “You always know how to get your way, huh?” he teased, plopping down beside you.

You leaned into him with a grin. “It’s a talent of mine.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. His other hand instinctively went to your belly, where the twins gave a small kick in response. Ekko’s eyes lit up, his grin spreading across his face.

“The little ones active today,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles over your stomach.

You hummed in agreement, resting your head on his shoulder. “Probably because their dad never sits still.”

“Hey!” he protested, though his laugh gave him away. “I’m totally calm and chill.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, listening to the rain and enjoying the quiet. Then, out of nowhere, you felt a small pang in your back. A sharp pain that made you wince.

Ekko noticed immediately, his eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the twins?”

You shook your head, trying to wave him off. “It’s just a little back pain. Comes with the territory.”

But Ekko wasn’t having it. “Alright, that’s it,” he declared, gently guiding you to lean forward a bit. “You’re getting a massage.”

You laughed, trying to protest. “Ekko, you don’t have to—”

“Shhh,” he cut you off, already starting to work his hands over your shoulders and back. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you felt yourself relax almost immediately.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Much better,” you admitted, melting under his care.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Gotta take care of my Firefly.” You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname, your heart swelling with affection. Ekko always had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world.

“Y’know,” he said after a moment, his hands still kneading your shoulders, “I’ve been thinking about what we should name the them.”

“Oh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “What ideas do you have?”

He grinned, clearly excited. “Okay, hear me out: what if we name them something cool, like Blaze and Nova?”

You laughed, the sound filling the room. “Ekko, those sound like superhero names.”

“Exactly!” he said, his grin widening. “Our twins are going to be heroes. Just like their mom.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “And their dad,” you added.

You sat there for a bit pondering about names to give the twins since you were going to be due soon. Never even given the though of giving them a name yet. "What about Noa and April?" you added looking at him, with cute clear eyes. Trying your hardest to find the twins some good names. Who knew it would be tough.

"Eh, Personally I don't like it. Anyways," Ekko’s expression softened at that, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You couldn't believe he quickly switched the subject. “We’re gonna be a good team, Firefly. You, me, and the little ones.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I know,” you said softly.

Suddenly, Ekko shifted, kneeling down in front of you so he was eye-level with your belly. “Alright, babies,” he said, his tone has a hint of mockery with serious undertone. “You better behave in there and stop giving your mom back pain, or we’re gonna have a few words when you get out.”

You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands. “Ekko, you’re hilarious!”

He grinned up at you, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah of course i am.”

“I love you,” you admitted, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to your belly. “And I love you, too. All three of you.”

The sweetness of the moment made your heart ache in the best way. Ekko was everything you could’ve hoped for: supportive, loving, and just the right amount of goofy.

As he climbed back onto the couch beside you, he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close like he never wanted to let go. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ekko tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Nah, Firefly. I’m the lucky one.”

And as the rain continued to fall outside, the two of you stayed curled up together, safe and warm in each other’s arms, dreaming of the bright future ahead.

this is absolutely lazy of a drabble… 0-o

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[semiloml]

PIZZA BOY!! - Yuji Itadori

★ pairing: aged up!Yuji x f!Reader

★ content: smut, nsfw, oral sex(female receiving), overstimulation, hair pulling, pussy drunk yuji!

★author‘s note: ENJOY!

- ⭑𓂃 ⌗

You were about five minutes away from calling the pizza place and demanding a refund when your doorbell finally rang.

With an annoyed huff, you swung the door open, ready to lay into whoever was on the other side—only to be met with him.

Yuji Itadori stood on your doorstep, grinning like he wasn’t almost one hour late, golden eyes glinting with mischief.

His pink hair was slightly messy, his delivery uniform snugging around his broad shoulders.

The scent of warm pizza mixed with his scent—a little sweat, a little cologne, and a lot of trouble filled your nose.

„Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, holding up the pizza box.

„But to be fair… I did bring you the best-looking delivery guy in town. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe.

„Oh, so now you think your face makes up for bad service?”

Yuji clicked his tongue, stepping just a little closer, tilting his head at you. „I think it makes up for a lot of things.” His voice dropped, smooth and teasing, and you felt the shift—like he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to get under your skin.

„Yeah?” You arched a brow. „And what else does it get me?”

His grin widened. „Depends… you got a tip for me?”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the pizza, but Yuji pulled it just out of reach.

„Nuh-uh,” he tsked, stepping inside like he owned the place, kicking the door shut behind him. „Not until you say I’m the best delivery guy you’ve ever had.”

You huffed, staring up at him. „That’s ridiculous.”

„Is it?” He set the box on the counter, then turned back to you, eyes darkening just a little, hands slipping onto your waist. „Because I can show you just how good my service can be”

Your breath hitched. „Yuji—”

you tried to finish your sentence but he was already kissing you, hot and impatient, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you back against the kitchen counter.

The moment his tongue slipped past your lips, you knew exactly where this was going

„You were pissed at me a second ago,” he teased, mouth brushing against your jaw as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt.

„Guess I really do make up for bad service.”

„Shut up,” you muttered, tugging him even closer.

Yuji chuckled, low and cocky, but he didn’t argue.

Instead, he dropped to his knees, hands trailing down your thighs as he looked up at you with a wicked smirk.

„Guess I’ll have to earn my tip the hard way, huh?”

Yuji knelt between your legs, eyes dark with hunger as his hands slid up your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken

„You know,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin, “I was gonna take cash, but I think I want my tip in a different way.”

Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers into your pj shorts, tugging them and your panties down in one smooth motion.

His lips were hot against your skin as he pressed open-mouthed kisses up your inner thigh.

„You’re insufferable,” you breathed, but there was no bite in it—not when his lips were already pressing hot, openen-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, sucking on the soft skin just enough to make your heart beat faster.

„Mhm,” he hummed, eyes glinting. „But you like it.”

You did.

And you liked him even more when he gripped your thighs, spreading them, pulling you closer, his tongue tracing a slow, teasing path up your slit.

Yuji groaned when he tasted you, the sound vibrating through your body.

„Fuck,“ he mumbled, voice muffled as he buried himself between your legs, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough.

„You‘re better than anything on that damn menu“

Your fingers tangled in his pink hair, tugging lightly, and he moaned against you, like he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

His tongue flicked against your clit, teasing at first, then pressing harder when your hips jerked against his face.

„That's it," he murmured, voice thick with arousal and amusement. „All that attitude gone now, huh?”

“Yuji—” You gasped, but your words were cut off when his tongue flicked against your clit, pressure building with each stroke.

He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through you, making your knees buckle. If it weren't for his firm grip on your thighs, you might've collapsed right then and there.

„Mm, I like you like this," he mused, dragging his tongue down to dip into your entrance before working his way back up. „All quiet, all needy."

„Shut up," you breathed, trying to glare, but it was impossible when he was eating you out like he had all the time in the world.

Yuji grinned against you. „Make me."

Then he doubled down, tongue flicking in tight, relentless circles, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you from squirming away.

You were dripping, and Yuji licked up every drop like he was starving for you.

The knot in your stomach tightened, your body tensing as pleasure built higher and higher. Yuji could feel it-feel the way your thighs trembled, the way your grip in his hair tighter the way you were gasping his name like there was no tomorrow,

„Come on," he coaxed, voice muffled against your slick heat. „Give me that tip, baby."

And when he sucked harder, pressing his tongue flat against your clit, you snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

Yuji groaned out loud as you came, licking you through your orgasm, drinking up every bit of your climax like he wasn't planning to stop anytime soon.

When your body finally sagged against the counter, breathless and spent, he pulled back just enough to look up at you, chin glistening, lips curled into a smug grin.

„See?" he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

„Best delivery guy ever,” he said, wiping his chin.

AUTHOR‘S NOTE: I hope you enjoyed reading this!! Lmk if I missed any typos!!

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – "You really think you can tease me like that?"

Heeseung doesn’t just notice—he stares. Seeing you in his oversized hoodie, the hem barely covering your thighs, instantly flips a switch in his brain. He loves how tiny you look in his clothes, but more than that? He loves the idea of taking it off. You’re standing in front of the mirror, admiring how soft his hoodie feels against your skin. But before you can process anything, Heeseung is behind you, his hands gripping your hips. "You trying to test me, baby?" he murmurs, voice low. "Walking around like this… no panties under my hoodie?" You let out a small gasp as he lifts the hem, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. His dark eyes meet yours through the reflection, a smirk curling on his lips. "Guess I’ll have to remind you who this belongs to." And just like that, you’re bent over the dresser, hoodie still on, as he proves exactly how much he loves seeing you in his clothes.

Jay – "You look so fucking good in that."

Jay doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves it. The second he sees you in his shirt—nothing underneath, the fabric just barely grazing your thighs—his hands are already on you. You’re lounging on the bed, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware of how Jay’s eyes are devouring you. His t-shirt drapes over your frame, the scent of him clinging to the fabric. "You really had to wear that one?" he mutters, running a hand through his hair. You blink at him innocently. "What? It’s comfy." Jay exhales sharply, already unbuckling his belt. "Baby, I was trying to be good," he says, his voice rough. "But now? Now I have to fuck you in it." Before you can respond, he’s already pinning you beneath him, his shirt still covering your body as he pushes your legs apart.

Jake – "You have no idea what you’re doing to me."

Jake tries to play it cool, but the second he sees you in his hoodie—hair messy, lips pouty, body drowning in his scent? He’s already fighting the urge to pin you down. You’re walking around the kitchen, wearing nothing but his hoodie, and Jake is struggling. His jaw clenches as he watches you stretch, the fabric rising just enough to reveal the curve of your ass. "You really expect me to sit here and do nothing?" he groans. You smirk, pretending not to notice how tense he is. "I don’t know what you mean," you tease, sipping your drink. Jake snaps. Before you know it, he’s pressing you against the counter, lips at your ear. "You wanna act innocent?" he whispers, dragging a hand between your legs. "Let’s see how long you last." Safe to say, breakfast is completely forgotten.

Sunghoon – "That’s my shirt, sweetheart."

Sunghoon pretends to be unbothered—until he isn’t. The second he sees you wearing his shirt with nothing else, his brain goes blank. You’re sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels when you hear him enter the room. You glance up, catching the way his jaw tightens as his eyes rake over you. "You know that’s my favorite shirt, right?" he mutters, tilting his head. You stretch lazily, letting the hem ride up. "Guess you’ll have to take it back, then." Sunghoon exhales sharply before stalking toward you. In seconds, he’s hovering over you, his knee pressing between your thighs. "Don’t mind if I do," he whispers, slipping his fingers under the fabric. And just like that, the shirt is off—discarded on the floor as he gives you something better to wear: him.

Sunoo – "You think you can tease me and get away with it?"

Sunoo knows what you’re doing, and he’s not about to let it slide. He’s the type to act like he’s unaffected—until you push him too far. You’re sitting on his lap, completely wrapped up in his hoodie, acting way too innocent. Sunoo raises a brow, his grip tightening on your waist. "You’re really gonna sit here like this and pretend you’re not teasing me?" he murmurs. You blink up at him, all doe-eyed. "I’m just wearing your hoodie, Sunoo. Wrong move. Suddenly, you’re flipped onto the couch, his body pressing you down. "You wanted my attention, baby?" he purrs, lips ghosting over your ear. "Now you have it." And trust me—he makes sure you don’t regret it.

Jungwon – "You’re playing with fire, baby."

Jungwon isn’t the type to immediately pounce—but oh, he’s burning inside. Seeing you in his hoodie, sleeves falling over your hands, your bare legs peeking out? His self-control is hanging by a thread. You’re sitting on his bed, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware of how wrecked Jungwon is. He watches you quietly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "You don’t even realize what you’re doing to me, do you?" he finally mutters. You glance up, tilting your head. "What do you mean?" Jungwon snaps. Before you can react, he’s pinning you beneath him, lips at your ear. "If you’re gonna wear my clothes," he whispers, voice dark, "you better be ready for the consequences." And let’s just say—he makes sure you feel every single one.

Ni-ki – "You better be ready to take responsibility for this."

Ni-ki acts so cocky about it—until he realizes just how much it’s affecting him. He tries to act chill, but the second you stretch, his hoodie riding up just enough? It’s game over. "You look so small in my hoodie," Ni-ki teases, leaning against the doorframe. You smirk, twirling a strand of hair. "That’s the point." His grin falters for one second. Then, he’s suddenly in front of you, his hands gripping your hips. "You think you’re funny, huh?" he murmurs, dragging you onto his lap. "Teasing me like this?" Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, and the next thing you know? His hoodie is the only thing left covering your body.

[greasergeist]

Mouthwashing anthro designs that came to me in a dream. Thought it'd be fun if I gave my own spin to them.

I have my reasons and other things. All of it will be below cut.

Curly - Big horned sheep, represents leadership, protection & power but also naivety & being overly trusting. Sheep are also a livestock animal for meat and wool, in which later determines his fate as the events go on. I could've chosen him to be a herding dog which would explain more on his position & how much he trusted Jimmy. Though, I think the "loyal & incredibly trusting" dog trope is overdone, as well as not exactly fitting for my version of the Tulpar crew. I think that a sheep would be a much better fit, its ironic. Sheep like to stick around other sheep that they're familiar with. Curly having horns would add more to his large frame and structure, a powerful strong presence amongst them and would be considered the dominating sheep of the flock, which corresponds to sheep hierarchy. Jimmy - Wolfdog, both animals represent two things. Typically of strong loyalty and kinship wolves with their packs and dogs' undying love for their companions. However, neither of these things are true to him. They instead represent his false leadership and loyalty. Wolfdogs are typically trained extensively to be considered 'civilized'. Their instinctual behaviors dominate, hence can be dangerous and unpredictable. They are very high-maintenance animals. They’re also pack animals... wolf packs tend to be lead by a pair of mates instead of a singular wolf, they’re not equipped to lead a whole pack alone. Alpha wolves are a myth product of one man, Rudolf Skenel. Jimmy sees himself as such but doesn’t directly call himself as such other than ‘leader’. They are still wild animals, regardless of origins. People have them as novelties, but I digress. I specifically chose him to be a wolfdog exactly for the lengths that people have to do in order to keep them 'tame' in which is what Curly has to do but kept being neglectful to the signs. “Sheep like to stick around other sheep that they're familiar with.”

I made him have more dominantly dog features to hide the fact that he’s part wolf. However, I think the analogy I’m working with still works as there are wild dogs out there. Anya - Hare, antelope jackrabbit. In the ancient Greek/Roman world, hares represented fertility, love and lust. They were believed to be the favored sacrifice to the two Gods of love Aprodite and Eros. It was also believed that consuming the flesh of the animal would enhance beauty for several days. She is none of those things, never wanted to be seen as such and yet they're forced upon her. Fertility is a curse that she bares, love and lust are the things that haunt her. Her being a jackrabbit, she has the misfortune of attracting predators. Just like how women have the misfortune to attract the worst of men. From Jimmy's perspective, he sees her as unlucky surrounding the beliefs from where he came from, incompetent and a waste of time. He absolutely has no respect for her for both her status as a woman and of her species. This one is my favorite, mainly because she's my favorite but anyway. I think I chose the right animal for her. It was a bit hard to communicate what my idea is for her but it hit just right. I hope it isn't too confusing due to my wording. Her being a hare instead of a rabbit is pretty simple, 1.) Daisuke already pre-occupies that front, 2.) hares aren't seen as conventional by most people, they aren't round and pudgy compared to their rabbit counterparts. I think their eyes make them look sad, even if it makes them look constantly afraid which is somewhat of a bonus point? Daisuke - Domestic cat, siamese + bobtail cat. This breed of cat are said to keep evil spirits away and brought good luck to their owners, they are also high energy and very extroverted bunch which I think brings great representation of his exterior attitude. Some also believe that they symbolize balance & harmony. Of course, all of this would just be how he's framed to be the light of the Tulpar crew. As for its opposite representation they are standoffish, lazy and overall annoying; primarily came from the negative impression of cats, this is how Jimmy views him, considering his species he would even go as far as thinking that he's a spoiled brat. Being part bobtail has something more to do with how they have a rabbit-like appearance, an animal that's frequently represented as innocence and in contrast of its opposite, the wolf. Swansea – A (whooper) swan, duh.They represent love, beauty, grace and wisdom which are all of the things that he thinks he lacks. He does possess a lot of wisdom, him knowing how to mend for his mistakes and actually fixing them, all the while being aware of him not exactly being good and pereceiving his life. He sees it as something ugly, having lived through it is ugly and therefore he thinks, he too, is ugly. He sees himself as the ugly duckling who never transformed. Swansea doesn’t realize that he’s a lot more beautiful than he could ever imagine for being a good man alone. Swans also represent loyalty, however its original meaning is more or so referring to the fact that swans mate for life but this will be used to say that he’s an incredibly reliable man amongst the Tulpar crew. As much as he dislikes to admit, Swansea has a lot of love to give towards those whom he cares about, especially his children. Swans are famously known to be good parents to their children, even going as far as adopting orphaned goslings (in this case Daisuke, who isn’t an orphan but he might as well be). They’re incredibly protective animals to their young and will protect them at all costs. However, if they’re weak or are sick, they will not hesitate to mercy kill their children.

Bonus Anya hare: