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hyunsvngs · 11 months ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞-𝐚-𝐡𝐨𝐞! - spiderman!han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 11.1k

cw: han jisung is spiderman, a brief attack of an alien in school, both characters are 18+ (legal) but are intended to be in high school, friends to lovers, jisung calling mc baby at any given moment

synopsis: you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

a/n: after a long wait… HEHE smut warnings under the cut and as usual 18+ MDNI!!!!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: brief mention of masturbation (both), oral (fem!rec), slightly switchy both parties, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, loss of virginity (both), cumswapping, relatively tame given that its me

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re intrigued.

Interested seemed like too little of a word to use for how you feel whenever you see the latest news report. In a world full of superhuman serums and bulletproof skin, he is still intriguing. Maths homework could be ignored, as far as you’re concerned - and that’s bold for you, because you love maths. You wonder if he likes maths, too.

Every night at 6pm sharp, you settle in front of the television and wait for the news. Spiderman, the hero in question, is always up to something. He loves shooting his webs across the tallest skyscrapers in the city, dangling from them precariously without a care before he lets out a loud, earth-shattering giggle and beats the newest bad-guy that your world has attracted. You always wince at the reports, wondering just how he healed from the injuries he must sustain. It had to be down to the spider venom, you supposed.

“He’s dangerous,” Your dad huffs. He’s lounging on his normal armchair, peeling leather be damned, munching on a bag of crisps. You grimace at his crisp covered digits motioning towards the television. You love your dad, really, and your mum - you just always differed in opinions when it came to Spiderman. He was so fucking cool, and you seriously feel like a child saying that all of the time, despite your best friend Jisung telling you that we all have our interests. “I mean, he’s putting normal civilians in danger. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman my ass.”

“Honey,” Your mother admonishes, digging through her own bag of crisps. You briefly consider why you haven’t been offered one. They look tasty, when your father isn’t rubbing luminous orange dust onto his previously crisp white shirt. “You know she doesn’t like it when you say bad things about him. He- what was the word again, baby?”

“He intrigues me,” You mumble, pretending to erase equations from your homework. Your cheeks blaze crimson when your mother hums in agreement, nodding triumphantly to your father. You wish you could be as sassy as her sometimes. You’re more timid, hiding behind oversized hoodies and Jisung. He is a lot more confident than you, more loud and exuberant - you suppose that’s why he had adopted you as his all those years ago.

Your mother had been best friends with Jisung’s aunt, Sohee. She’s just like Jisung, zipping around the place at an insane pace to offer you snacks and drinks at every second. When you and Jisung had first met in preschool, you’d been drawing patterns in the mud with your grubby little fingers, hiding from the bullies. He’d criticised your drawing. He helped you fix it, though, chubby cheeks puffing out with a grin when it was good enough for his taste. Looking back now, that behaviour was so Jisung, but your mother had been delighted to find out that you’d already met her best friend’s son.

It had been easy becoming friends with him after that. Every day, he’d drag you by your wrist and take you to the yard, insisting on doing your co-operative drawings together. The teachers had a fit everyday on the state of you two by the end of your break, but your mothers had loved it, taking a million and one pictures a second. He stuck up for you both to the teachers, and then he stuck up for you to the bullies and it was like you’d known each other since birth. Inseparable at the hip, you’d been glued together throughout preschool, primary school and now high school - it doesn’t look like you’re getting rid of him anytime soon, either. You’d applied for the same colleges.

You don’t particularly want to be rid of him anyway. He’s alright, really, and you had a bit of a girly, high school crush on him. You would rather jump off of a building like Spiderman sans the webs if anyone found out.

Another thing Jisung is good for is listening to your rants. He waits for your call every night after the news had been on, and you clamber on your bed obediently after the report finishes to press on his contact.

“Jisung!” You squeal. There’s a lot of feedback on his end, and you hear a low ‘shit, fuck, oops, oh God’, until there’s a loud thud and he giggles, chiming through your tinny phone speakers. “... Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry, baby,” He sounds out of breath, but you smile when he speaks anyway. Whenever he calls you baby, his designated nickname for you, it makes your heart flutter and you have to grimace to ignore it. His face pops into the little square designated to him, his cheeks blushing pink and round eyes wide. His hair is slightly damp, from what you’re not sure - but he looks cute. “I just got home. I was- I was running some errands for my aunt.”

“God, she’s got you running like crazy lately,” You mumble, still jotting down numbers on your homework. It’s taken you hours, but you always get distracted on nights like this. “Did you see it?”

Jisung hums, and then you hear him groan. He’s stretching, slightly toned honey-skinned arms appearing above his head in the plain oversized t-shirt he’s wearing. You try not to stare. “Did I see what?”

“The- the news, Sungie,” You feel shy mentioning it so outright. It is a weird interest, a weird thing to be obsessed with - Jisung often reassures you that it really isn’t, and his anime obsession was a lot worse. It was. You sigh, clearing your throat. “Spiderman. He was- he was super cool tonight.”

“Ooh, was he?” Jisung teases, chuckling when you groan in protest. “I’m only playing with you, baby. I saw it. He was super cool, wasn’t he?”

“Ha-ha, super cool, ‘cause he’s a superhero. You’re funny.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Jisung chirps. “Hey, have you done the maths homework? I haven’t had time, because of the errands, y’know.”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m almost finished,” You aren’t. You’re far from it, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can let you copy it tomorrow morning, before class.”

“No, that’s alright, baby. We can just cross-check our answers tomorrow,” His voice sounds tired, but you don’t comment. It’s better not to question Jisung when he’s like this.

His aunt has him doing a lot these days. You haven’t wanted to ask about it because you know it must be tough for her to look after Jisung since his parents passed, especially when Jisung is always going at full speed and is probably seconds away from giving his aunt a heart attack. He was always clumsy as a child, too, snapping his glasses in half and having a few broken bones to tell long stories about. He always means well, but sometimes you wish that he had something else to get his energy out of his system rather than stressing his aunt out.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Jisung, surely you know who Spiderman is, like, underneath the mask,” Seungmin quips through a mouthful of dry, government regulated school food. “You spent all that time with Bang Chan in the internship.”

Seungmin is a lanky boy that just came along one day and decided to be yours and Jisung’s friend. With him, he brought a younger, smiley guy named Jeongin, and Jeongin brought Felix. Felix is just Felix - nothing else can describe him. Before long, you’d found yourself in a de facto group of misfits that you weren’t even sure you could call friends. Apart from Jisung, of course.

Jisung simply raises an eyebrow in response to Seungmin. “I mean, sure. I met Mr Bang a few times, but I never met Spiderman. Not out of his suit, anyway.”

You gasp. Jeongin startles from the nap he was taking on the cafeteria table, raising his head to look at you angrily. Felix pushes his head back down from the hood on his jumper and Jeongin immediately falls back to sleep. “You met him in his suit?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung shrugs. When he turns to look at you, your mouth is agape, feeling slightly betrayed. Jisung shoves another spoonful of cheese - was it really cheese? - pasta into his mouth, and then he’s sighing. “It’s not a big deal, baby. If I really met him, the real him, you’d be the first to know. I promise.”

“You still got that fat crush on Spiderman?” Felix chirps. You meet his amused gaze with your own steely glare, pouting over your packed lunch.

“It’s not a crush-”

“It’s an interest,” Jisung clarifies for you, and you smile. He’s always jumping to your defence like that. You bite into an apple, savouring the crisp, fruity taste on your tongue, and then the bell rings. Sighing, you watch as the boys around you get up - including Jeongin, fox like eyes bleary from sleep - and swing their bags on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later,” You murmur to Jisung, who throws his arm around your waist in a quick hug. “Enjoy English.”

Right. You and Jisung didn’t have the same classes. He has English now, and you have chemistry, which is probably your least favourite of all classes. You just weren’t a fan of the whole blowing shit up scenario, unlike Jeongin was, and the boy trundles behind you towards your chemistry class.

The class is boring. The teacher drones on and on about some experiment you couldn’t care less about, and you pretend to care. You’re taking notes, sure, ever the diligent student - but you can’t get anything other than Spiderman out of your mind. Jisung met him, and didn’t tell you, and who even is this guy? You’d love to know. You’d love to just see him, even once, just to be able to tell the story.

A massive crash stops the teacher’s speech. He turns to the door, confused, and the students do the same. You do too, furrowed eyebrows staring at the door. Another crash causes people to begin to rise, and the teacher starts ushering everyone out of the class to the closest exit route. You’re frozen in confusion and fear, pencil halted in your fingers, even as another noise makes the teacher run out behind the class.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re still sitting in your seat, eyes wide and heart racing. Then, you spring up to follow the rest of your cohort, sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as you run to the door. Swinging it open, you stick your head out the door and look around, trying to see if the coast is clear. With a planet full of interdimensional attacks, you can’t be sure, and looking left leads you to see a scaly, large animal type of thing. You squeak, startled, and immediately retreat into the class before it notices you. What the fuck do you do? What are you meant to do?

The whole room begins to shake, and you have a feeling the creature’s getting closer. Beakers are thrown to the floor from the vibration ringing throughout the room, glass shattering loudly, and you feel like you’re about to scream, or cry, or run, and you can’t run.

Doing the only thing you can think of, you cower to the floor, hiding underneath a table donned in smashed beakers. You’re curled up in a ball, watching students standing outside murmuring and discussing their own safety, and then the shaking stops.

The door swings open. Everything outside the classroom is too intimidating, items being thrown everywhere, and you can’t even bring your legs to move with how badly they’re shaking. Who’s just walked in? You pray for Jisung. You pray for someone who’s going to help you hide, someone who’s going to keep you safe, and then-

A masked face pops underneath the table. He’s lithe, slender, but the tight red and dark blue suit highlights the hint of abs and sculpted biceps on his body. Holy fucking shit. Your eyes widen. Spiderman is in your school.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, but it sounds almost like someone putting on a deeper voice to hide their identity. You nod hesitantly, and then he’s extending a gloved hand towards you, pulling you out from underneath the table. You’re unable to speak. Once you’re standing in front of him, you notice he’s around a head or so taller than you, but definitely not as tall as you thought he’d be. He sighs, chest heaving with panic. You suppose it must be pretty tough work fighting aliens from outer space. “I’ve webbed him up for now, but it won’t hold much longer. Go- please, go and run. Please, anywhere, just- go and hide, or run.”

“I-I-”

“Promise me, b- um, you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- Yes, I promise, I’m going to- I’ll go, thank you, thank you-”

“Wait, no!” He shouts, rubbing his temples - or at least, you’d imagine he was but he’s just rubbing the mask in frustration. You watch as he bounds over to the window, kicking it open, and the students outside turn to the classroom in awe. You’re rooted in place, as if vines are circling your ankles and securing you to the floor, mouth agape. You wait for him to give you further directions, and you gasp when he runs back over to you, picking you up and carrying you over to the window. You feel light as a feather, and all you can think is how he’s even carrying this amount of strength in that small body. “Too risky. Outside.”

“O-Outside?” You stammer, cheeks bright red, and he nods. He leans to place you out of the window, delicately placing you on your feet, and then he speeds off, shouting a quick “see you later!”.

You blink. You can hear the noises of walls breaking and windows shattering as Spiderman fights, and Felix runs up to you from the crowd outside and slings an arm over your shoulder. You’re still staring inside the classroom as if you can see through walls and watch the fight. What did see you later mean?

What’s the likelihood, honestly? You knew he was the friendly neighbourhood guy, and all that, but why not Bang Chan, in his sleek nanotech suit? This was a big fight. You find yourself getting worried, biting your nails in concern for the man you don’t even know. You have to remind yourself of that. He saved you because you’re any other citizen, not for any other specialty - you don’t know this guy.

“C’mon, over here,” Felix ushers you over, tone soft. When you’re with him, Seungmin and Jeongin, he sighs, rubbing your back. “Crazy, right? At least you can say you met Spiderman now.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung is safe, thank god. You kind of feel guilty for not worrying about him at the moment, but he’d text you shortly after, saying he’d left just before it all kicked off because he felt a little under the weather. He wanted to make sure you were okay, though, so he texted you as soon as he could. You’d never admit the blush that rose to your cheeks when you read it.

It’s quiet in your room. Your parents had sprinted to you as soon as you’d come through the door, having seen the situation on the news, and you’d reassured them that Spiderman had saved you. It definitely changed your dad’s perspective of him, and now you lie on your bed feeling more than relieved.

Your fingers tap on your tummy in thought, though. He was making his voice deeper, that much you could tell, but why? How was he there so quickly? There’s no fucking way he was a student. Still, that body in the tight suit… you’d definitely been looking. You’re a woman, of course you were going to look. He had a figure enviable to every man. Broad shoulders, abs just slightly visible, strong legs that carried you over to the window…

In your dreamlike fantasy, you’re considering something you previously never would’ve thought of. What if Jisung was underneath that suit? Now, that would be perfect. Both of your crushes being one being, Jisung pulling that suit up his lithe thighs and letting it settle over his broad pecs.

Before you know it, your hand is dipping under the hem of your pyjama pants, unable to feel guilty for thinking about your best friend in this way. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time, with many of your nights spent whimpering into your pillow and coming apart on your own fingers wishing they were his. He had such nice hands… What if it was him who had grabbed you from underneath that table? Your hand trails down to find your folds, slick and ready for whatever you had in store, but you focus on your clit, swollen and aching between your bottom lips. Would he finger you in the gloves if you asked, let you ride his abs in the suit until completion? Would he kiss you upside down, hanging from the-

A tap on your window makes you jump. The room is dark, save for your bedside lamp, and you turn rapidly to see a faceless figure just about popping in from the corner. You yank your hand out of your bottoms, squeaking, and then you squint to try and see the figure closer.

Holy shit. Spiderman is at your bedroom window.

Your cotton tank top is revealing, so you turn immediately to reach for your dressing gown and tie it around your figure. You pad over to the window in your socks, still wide-eyed and completely baffled, and then you turn the handle to allow him access. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You blurt, toes curling against your floor. Spiderman swings inside instead of responding, walking around your room like he’s been there a million times before. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”

He turns to you, shrugging. “I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

You blanch. He did say that, yes, but that still doesn’t explain the million questions you have right now. “Well, yeah, but- how do you know where I live?”

“I- uh, found it in the school office,” He hops up onto your bed, sitting cross legged. His mask hides his face, but he hums in pleasure at the feeling of the bedsheets on him. “After the fight, I went in there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

He’s still making his voice deeper, and you blink, nodding in response. “I’m great. Can I- can I ask why you’re here?”

He shrugs again, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet. “No reason. Got bored. I was swinging around and remembered I saw your address on the computer.”

“Right,” You shake your head, still baffled. Instead of questioning him further, you jump onto the bed in front of him and copy his position, cross legged. “Don’t you have, like, recovering to do? I heard you got beat pretty bad.”

“Nah, no way,” He scoffs, rolling his neck. You suppress a smile. Cocky. “Spider venom, y’know? It repairs everything super quick.”

You were right. You can’t suppress a smile at his response, clicking your fingers at his masked face. “I fucking knew it! I guessed it was the venom.”

He stops fiddling with the duvet, turning to you and tilting his head in question. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Hey, are you the one that’s friends with that kid?”

You narrow your eyes. Jisung’s a liar. If Spiderman knows who he is, that means they’ve met more than once, and Jisung lied. You reach for your phone, ready to bitch him out via text, but Spiderman knocks your phone out of your hand. You turn to him, confused.

“Talk to me,” He whines. “I told you I was bored!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, damn. Yes, I’m friends with Jisung. Why?”

“No reason,” He wiggles forward on your bed, grabbing your hand. You’re confused, but then he launches you into an intense thumb war, one that you were never going to win. Everytime you go to move your thumb in response to his, he’s got you pinned, and before he speaks again you’re five rounds down. “He’s pretty cool, right?”

“Who?” You ask, still focusing on the thumb war.

“Jisung,” He clarifies, clearing his throat. Making his voice that deep must be taking its toll on his vocal chords. “He’s kinda cool. Super smart, I thought.”

“He definitely is,” You laugh when he pins your thumb down again, swatting at his wrist to get him off of you. “He’s smarter than me.”

“And, uh,” He clears his throat again, leaning back on your bed. Leaning back like that, you have a full view of his body in his suit, and you have to stare at the posters on your wall to avoid looking at him. He puts his hands behind his head, the full picture of relaxation, and you wished he’d stop throwing you this random curveball behaviour. “Is that all you think of him? Just smart?”

You blush, finally reverting your eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… Do you have a crush on him, or?”

“Who wants to know?” You bristle, playing with your hands in your lap. You look down at your chipped nail polish, awkwardly shifting on the bed in your pyjamas. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“No one knows who I am,” He responds easily. “I want to know. Tell me. Do you have a crush on him?”

“I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m bored!” He whines again, sitting up. You let him grab your hand again, pulling your pinky finger into a promise. You swear you see the mask smile. “Tell me!”

“Okay, damn,” You sigh, exasperated. Was he on molly or something? Are you dreaming? “I guess so. I guess I always have, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think he’d ever like me like that.”

He coos at that, taking your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting. “Why not?”

“He’s- well, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like him,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s awkward. He’s my best friend. It would ruin things, and I guess I’ve never let myself think about it like that.”

“You should,” He hums. You blink, staring at him. What the hell is he on about? “I just mean you should. Maybe he likes you too, y’know? I like my best friend. I’d love to know if she likes me back.”

“You do?” You wiggle closer, eager to know more. “You like your best friend? What’s she like?”

“Well,” He strokes your hand again before pulling away, leaning his chin on his hand. “She’s super pretty. Smart, too. I’ve known her since like, forev- for a few years, I think, in total.”

“It’s kind of the same with me and Jisung,” You sigh again, pouting. “I’ve known him for my whole life, basically. I’m just scared it’ll ruin things, but I think about him a lot when I’m on my own.”

He snickers. “Really? Like when you’re doing what you were doing when I got here?”

You swat at his shoulder, blushing bright red. “Shut up, oh my god! I thought you- shut up. Just don’t.”

“Maybe he thinks about you then too, I don’t know,” He shrugs nonchalantly, and then he’s getting up and pacing around. You watch him fiddle with a few photo frames on your desk, humming at ones of you and Jisung when you were younger and even fiddling with a few of your academic medals and prizes. “I won’t tell him, by the way.”

“You see him often?” You ask, voice soft. “He said-”

“Nah, I’ve only seen him once or twice,” He stretches his arms above his head, still staring at your desk full of trinkets. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can I know?”

He turns to you. “Know what?”

“I want to know who you are,” Your voice is confident, but you feel anything but, teeth chewing your bottom lip nervously. “You saved me, and now you’re in my bedroom. I feel that I deserve to know.”

He sighs loudly this time, walking towards the window. “When we get to know eachother better, maybe.”

“Wait, hang on,” You watch him sling a foot out of the window, exasperated. He can’t leave! “Where are you going? I thought you said you were bored-”

“Things to do, baby,” He replies quickly. You blink. That ‘baby’ sounds awfully familiar, and you stand up quickly to walk towards the window, but he’s already webbing away. “Bye!”

You stand there, shocked and confused. He’s swinging from building to building away from you, and you’re just standing there like an idiot. You were interrupted before you could even start touching yourself, forced into a thumb war and coerced into admitting your deepest, darkest secret, and then he just… leaves? Just like that?

Your life is proving to be a little more interesting than you thought, but your dreams were filled with familiar round cheeks beneath a red and blue mask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Baby, is there a reason why your eyes are burning holes into the side of my head?”

You’re convinced your best friend is Spiderman. There, sitting beside you with his glasses sliding down his nose and comfortable in a grey hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms on, it’s hard to believe. But you’re not stupid.

First of all, since he started that internship with Mr Bang, he’s been weird about letting you inside his room. This is the same person that you had many sleepovers with growing up, and as recently as a few months ago you’d been cuddling in bed together watching Howl’s Moving Castle. He has something to hide, but you’d been let down when you’d arrived at his house earlier and shouldered past him to find literally nothing of suspicion inside his room, other than an anime girl mouse pad with the boobs to rest your wrist on. You knew that existed though, ever since his birthday last year when Felix had gifted it to him, so what gives?

Secondly, Sohee is more stressed out than ever. You’d caught sight of her flitting around the kitchen when you arrived for your homework friend-date, scrubs on and ready to head to the hospital but still panicking about something. Jisung said multiple times that he’d been helping her out more and that’s why he’s been so busy lately. She shouldn’t still be panicking.

Thirdly, Spiderman wouldn’t make his voice deeper to you unless you knew him. He wouldn’t need to, or you wouldn’t recognise his voice - unless it’s a habit he’s picked up, perhaps. That doesn’t change that the way he called you baby last night sounded a little bit too familiar, too comfortable. It came out of his mouth like second nature.

Still, it makes no sense. Surely Jisung would have told you? You’re his best friend, he said so, so he’d tell you. Or would he? Maybe Felix knows. You’re also hoping deep down that it isn’t true, because if it is, you told your crush last night that you liked him.

You can’t even be mad at Jisung for it. He’s still staring at you, and you’re staring blankly back while shoving snacks into your mouth. There’s crumbs all over your homework.

“Jisung,” You begin, and he hums in response. “Would you tell me your deepest, most serious secret if I worked it out?”

He chokes on his energy drink, spluttering neon blue liquid all over his bed. You want to giggle, to make fun of him, but you’re sure you’ve gotten somewhere here. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and turns back to you. His hands are shaky where they clutch his textbook, and his eyes are almost blurry through the glasses. “I tell you everything anyway.”

“I don’t think you do,” You respond, quick as a beat. He blinks, lips parting. “Not by that reaction, Jisung. I think you’re hiding something from me.”

He scratches his nose with the end of his pen, looking down at the textbook again. You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay,” You hum. He sighs, scribbling something on the paper. It’s so quiet in the room that you can hear his pen scribbling, but you’re speaking again before you can even think. “Did I tell you Spiderman came to my room last night?”

He gulps audibly. “Nope.”

“Yeah, it was kinda weird,” You take a sip from your energy drink, still staring at him vacantly. Jisung’s eyes flit up to you, and then back down to the textbook. Oh, he knows. He knows that you know. He knows that you know that he knows. “He saved me in school, when that alien thing was there, and then he came to my room and asked me about you.”

“He, uh- really? Did he?”

“Mhm,” Your gaze is steely. “Jisung, I know you’re Spiderman.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. It would be believable, but you’ve known him since you were four years old and it’s a fake laugh. He’s cackling, loud as brass, and he lets out a little “ooh” afterwards as if he can’t believe you. “Baby, that’s the craziest theory you’ve ever come up with.”

“Is it?” You question, head tilting to the side. Then, in the smartest moment you’ve ever had, you pick up Jisung’s energy drink from the floor. He’s still looking at you, a fake smile on his lips, and you take a sip from it casually. Sharing drinks isn’t new for you. You glug back the artificial blue raspberry flavour, and then keeping eye contact with him, you let go.

Before the can is able to fall and spill the rest of its contents over your own textbook, and inevitably Jisung’s One Piece bed sheets, he reaches out and grabs it, hand wrapping around the can, quick as a flash. It all happens in about a second, and you gasp. Jisung gasps. His hand tightens around the can and it crinkles, an impossible show of strength, and then he’s blinking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I knew it.”

He puts the can safely on the bedside table, and then he’s slamming his textbook shut. You watch in confusion as he paces back and forth on his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Okay!” He points at you, victorious. “That was a reflex. I knew you were going to do that, I’m smart, duh! I knew you were going to drop the can to prove something, and-”

“Jisung,” You say, voice soft. He stops pacing, sock clad feet rooted on the carpet to stare at you. You’re going to get him. You’re going to get him good. “Do you not want me to know? Is that what this is?”

He immediately falls to the floor, head resting on your knee as he looks up at you. You can’t even feel sorry for him, because your plan is working perfectly. His eyes are round and vulnerable, and then he clenches them shut in distress. You think he’s probably a second away from crying. “Baby, it’s not that. I wanted to protect you. It would be dangerous if the bad guys knew who you were, knew that you knew, and I know I shouldn’t have come to your room, that was wrong of me, and-”

You giggle. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, eyes opening. “I knew I was right.” He gasps, pointing at you again.

“Judas! You’re a judas!” He’s shocked, leaning back on his haunches and staring at you. “I can’t- I can’t believe you, that was so-”

“Sneaky? Good? Smart?” You list, leaning back on his twin bed. He stands up, hands on his hips. You’re ready for him to bitch you out, but you don’t care - you knew that you had to know, had to have it confirmed. He taps his foot, and then you see a smile break out on his lips.

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty good,” He hums, returning to the bed. You let him shut your own textbook and sprawl across you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “That’s okay, Ji. It’s fine. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” Jisung asks, his eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You want to scoff. Embarrassed for two major reasons - one, because you’ve been gushing about how cool Spiderman is for weeks, maybe even months, and two because you told Spiderman last night that you liked Jisung. Spiderman and Jisung are the same person. Sure, it makes things easier. You no longer have a crush on two people, only one, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jisung knows and is yet to say anything.

“I’ve been talking to you about Spiderman for weeks,” You blush, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He whines, thrashing his feet and shaking his head like a dog to hide his forehead again. He’s so dramatic. You like him so bad. “And- and you- it was you, then. You came to my room last night.”

“Yeah, that was risky,” He responds, exasperated. “I just had to, baby. I don’t know, you always seemed so interested in Spiderman and not me. I needed to know if you saw me like you saw him.”

You pause your movements on his head, blinking at the wall in front of you. When you turn back to him, he’s blushing, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. His eyes are conveniently staring at the window, away from you.

“Jisung,” You start, hesitant. “What do you mean?”

He sits up sharply. “Wanna go on the roof?”

“T-The roof? Jisung, how are we gonna- oh. Oh.”

Jisung jumps up from the bed, toeing his sliders onto his feet and pushing the window open. It gives you deja vu - that same figure was pushing the window open just like this to place you safely outside in school yesterday, and then he was coming through your window to see you late at night. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same person, the man you admired so much and your best friend who’s standing by the window expectantly waiting for you to join him.

You hesitantly stand up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your joggers and looking at Jisung. He smiles, a soft, reassuring smile, and then he’s scooping you up from the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist. It’s slender, the plush flesh of your thighs almost obscuring it, and you squeak in surprise at being in the air.

“I- Jisung?!”

“You have to hold on tight,” He says. His face is inches away from yours, plush lips looking more than appealing and his glasses making him look so endearing. “I need my hands for this, so hold onto my shoulders.”

You nod, face blushing crimson at the realisation of just how close you are. Would he have you like this if he fucked you? Legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours as he pants and whines and moans-

You squeak again when he slides out of the window, and then you see him in action. His hands stick to the outside of the apartment building, feet kicking up against the concrete wall. Your heart is racing so badly it feels as though it could burst out of your chest, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the height or because you’re tightly pressed against Jisung.

When he swings you both over the side ledge on the roof, you notice the sun’s set already. Time always goes by quickly with Jisung, but the stars are already out, and the air is crisp and biting against your limbs despite the layers. Once he’s safely stood on the roof, he places his hands underneath your thighs and detaches you from his firm body, placing you on your feet.

You’re disorientated, shocked at the sheer height of the building and at the way Jisung seems to be swinging you around like it’s nothing, but he’s simply staring at you. A wide smile stretches from ear to ear, and he blinks when you don’t say anything. “It’s cool, right?”

“Y-Yeah, super cool,” You admit, chest heaving. “Really high up, but cool. Jisung, why are we on the roof?”

He’s wrangling you, hands on your arms and pushing you to the floor. It feels firm, but with what you now know about him, you know he’s holding back. He plops down next to you, eyes wide and expectant.

“I wanted to do it properly,” He begins. He pauses for a moment, licks his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and then he’s speaking again. “I like you, so that’s why I asked. Is it romantic up here? It feels romantic, but I’m not too sure-“

He stands up and begins pacing around the roof before you realise he’s even moved. You raise an eyebrow. “Jisung?”

“I wanted to do this right, y’know?” He pauses, hands on his hips. He looks comical, trying to assert dominance over you like that in those Hello Kitty pyjama trousers. “I- I wanted to swing by and like, grab you, or something? But then you worked it out, and now I’m just standing here with you on a roof…”

He continues mumbling like a mad scientist, eyes focused on a spot next to your head. You stand up, making your way towards him, and he still refuses to look at you. He likes you back. He likes you back, and he’s still your best friend - he’s still Jisung, but he’s also Spiderman, and you’re okay with that. You don’t have to like two people. You only like one, and it’s your goofy best friend.

“Is this even romantic? You know, we could just forget about it and-“

You press your lips to his. He doesn’t make any form of surprised noise, only cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you close to him. His glasses bump against your face, his lips pouty against yours and plush and maybe a bit too wet for a first kiss, but you’d always figured he’d take it too far. That’s what you like about him. Jisung never does anything by halves.

It’s brief, too brief for your liking, but then he’s pulling away with a satisfied grin on his face. You blink. Wait.

“Wait, your stupid- your stupid spidey things. Did you know I was going to kiss you?” You pout, and he giggles. “No, seriously! Could you like- I don’t know, feel it coming?”

“Not until you were like, a few inches from my face,” Jisung admits, and his teeth gleam in the brilliance of the evening. “I had a feeling you might.”

You sigh. “So why didn’t you stop talking?”

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stop once I started.”

The statement is so true to Jisung, so in character for your best friend that you can do nothing but accept it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s easy to fall into a different routine with Jisung.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re pretty sure you’re fine with that, though - things have had a natural manner of progressing, and now your best friend slash boyfriend slash superhero turns up at your window every night after he’s been on his neighbourhood patrol. Sometimes he’s a little bruised, and sometimes he’s just looking for consolation kisses.

It’s a normal night for you when it happens. Jisung’s halfway out of your bedroom window on his way to perform perfect justice, pulling his mask down over his annoyingly beautiful face. You’re standing a few feet away grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later, my baby,” You can see his grin through the mask. The eyes on his mask form beautiful crescent moons with his happiness. He falters, legs swinging on your windowsill. “Wait. I am coming back here, yeah?”

“Of course,” You giggle. He sends you two fingers in a mock salute, and you watch him begin his journey up the wall to your roof. A beat passes and you’re still standing there, smiling, hands on your hips, and then the masked head of your best friend pops back down into your window, upside down, tilting to the side in confusion. You blink, confused. “What is it, Sungie?”

“Well, where’s my goodbye kiss? Damn,” He huffs, and you roll your eyes playfully. You make your way to the window, sock-clad feet padding on your carpet, and you pull his mask down to his eyes with two fingers. It miraculously stays on his head, and his lips form a teasing grin.

Despite him being upside down, you place a chaste kiss to his lips, and you watch in amusement as he swings away afterwards. You can still hear him giggling with glee from a few buildings away.

It’s a few hours later when he comes back. You’re flicking through a book for English, scrawling notes and highlighting words on sticky notes. It’s started to rain, and the city lights only look brighter in the dusk with the pattering of water on your window. You left it open, of course, for your superhero, but the cold air bites at your arms even through the fluffy blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself.

Just as you’re beginning to contemplate closing it, a louder, more prominent tap hits the glass. When you turn to the window, Jisung is slouched against your windowsill, chest heaving beneath red lycra and forehead pressed against the glass. He’s got his mask between his teeth, and his hair is dishevelled, floppy brown locks obscuring his eyes. You can still catch sight of the bruising on his cheekbones and you gasp, rushing towards the window.

You drop your blanket in shock, but you swing the window open, pulling Jisung inside with one hand. He stumbles through, disoriented and confused, and you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Got hurt,” He explains, huffing out a breath. The mask drops from his teeth unceremoniously, with a wet plop to your carpeted floor, but you don’t care. You rush to sit next to him, fingers gripping his chin to pull him to face you. His eyes are round, sincere, and he gives you a soft smile. “It’ll heal before long, baby, don’t panic.”

“I am panicking,” You say, resolute, because you really are. Bruising is scattered across his cheekbones, fading into green on the plush of his cheeks and his lip looks like it had been burst, but is already healing. “Will it- will it take long? Do you need me to get the first aid kit, or-“

“Baby,” He shakes his head, grabbing your hands. You watch with parted lips as he leans forward, both of you cross legged on the end of your bed. It reminds you of when Spiderman first visited you, when you weren’t quite sure of his identity. Jisung presses his forehead against yours, and you let him look into your eyes. It’s like he’s demanding everything that’s ever gone through your head to be vocalised. You’d tell him if he asked. “I’m really okay. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Most of it is on my ribs from falling, to be honest.”

“Your ribs?!” You shriek. “Show me. Let me see, I need to help you-“

You’re already trying to wrangle Jisung out of his suit, and he giggles, clearly thinking this is all just some game. He holds his arms up pliantly, though, and you don’t have the thought processing ability within you to realise that Jisung’s suit is an all-in-one and you’re currently stripping him down to his boxers.

The suit is wet too when you drop it to the floor, and before long you’re blinking at your best friend in his plain black boxers and he’s grinning at you as if this is any other day. There’s no bruising on his ribs. You’re staring at his abs, regardless, so you’re not sure you would’ve even noticed.

“You look fine.”

“I told you it heals quickly, baby,” He grins. You blink when he wriggles on your bed, laying on his back and stretching his arms above his head again, this time to get comfortable. His legs stretch out too, and you avoid looking anywhere below his waist.

His body is a spectacle. You can’t stop looking. Broad shoulders taper off into an extremely defined chest and a tight, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers down his honey toned skin.

“Why-“ You cough, clearing your throat. Jisung raises an eyebrow. He’s grinning from ear to ear, teeth gleaming. “Why did you let me strip you if you’re literally fine?”

The bruising on his cheek is already fading. He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge with the movement and you think you might choke on your own spit. “You seemed pretty determined, so I just allowed it. You wanted to see me naked, I assumed, so-“

“Jisung!” You wail, slapping his shoulder. He groans in pain, catching your hand, and he grits his teeth with a hiss.

“My shoulder! Fuck, that hurt, ouch, baby! What was that for?!”

You gasp. He clutches his shoulder, letting out little pants of hurt sounding noises. You let your head fall to his chest, engulfing him with a hug. “Jisung, I’m so sorry-“

“Hehe,” He giggles. When you look at him, he’s sticking his tongue out, completely fine. You groan, annoyed you fell for it, and then he’s grabbing your forearms and pulling you upwards on top of him.

Your breasts press against his chest like this, due to your lack of bra in your sleep shirt, and his eyes widen when he feels it. Instead of letting you go, his hands move to your back, encompassing you in his strong hold.

You gasp, wiggling in his grip, and he licks his lips. His eyes go to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, as if he’s hesitant.

“I-“ He begins, faltering. “Are you my girlfriend?”

You scoff out a laugh. “I don’t know, am I?”

“I hope so,” Jisung admits, his facial expression vulnerable. His eyes dart to something behind you, as if he’s not sure, almost shy. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him shy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I want you to be, if you want to be.”

“I want to be,” You nod. He nods in response, and you watch his eyes flicker to your lips again. It’s silent for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is more charged than usual. Before now, you’re used to chaste, fleeting kisses from your superhero, but now he lets his tongue tease against the seam of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and his eyelashes brush against your skin where he does the same. You let your lips part, and Jisung’s quick to grip your back harder, tongue darting inside your mouth with impatience.

You’ve made out with someone before. You’d never had sex with someone before, but you had made out with someone. It was only once at a party when you were a little bit younger but it had felt like a good idea at the time. You’re sure Jisung’s lost his virginity though, but when he whimpers against your lips and his hips squirm a little you’re not too sure.

You pull away from the kiss, lips a little wet, and Jisung’s mouth goes to your neck. You allow him to suck a mark into the expanse of skin just underneath your jaw, his fingers grabbing impatiently at your back. “Sungie, are you a virgin?”

Jisung pulls away, licking his lips. You feel something hard pressing against your thigh where you lay on top of him. You’re thanking every entity ever that your parents are out for a work dinner. “Yeah, I am. I would have told you if I wasn’t,” He confirms, a little breathless. His hips wiggle again. “Is that- is that okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, comforting. You peck his lips again and he grins back at you. “I am too.”

“I know,” He responds, quick as a flash. You blush. That’s embarrassing. “No, I just mean- you also would’ve told me, y’know?”

“That’s true,” You shrug. You’re feeling a little overconfident, and you move in his hold, having felt it gone a little lax with your kissing. You let your thighs spread over his hips, his hard shaft pressing against your core through your pyjama bottoms and his boxers. You still feel it, though, and it makes your pussy gush a little. “Is- is this okay?”

He’s blushing. His lips part, and he nods, perhaps too eagerly because he clutches his neck afterwards like he’s got whiplash. “Baby, you’re- I have a pretty girl in my lap. This is so okay. Like, so okay, I might have a heart attack and die, probably.”

You shift, and he winces. “Sorry,” You say. It’s a fake apology. You want to swallow his cock down your throat until he cries, and you don’t even know how to. You’d try your best though. “If I lost my virginity, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Damn,” Jisung whistles, eyebrows raised. “Let me hit?”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side. “I’ll let you hit right now, Jisung.”

Jisung shoots upwards into a seated position. His eyes are wide. “Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm. You go from straddling his lap to laying on your back on your bed in a flash, and Jisung looms over you, all tight, toned muscles and broad shoulders.

“I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise,” He says, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s even messier this time, lips pressing against yours over and over and his tongue adding a collection of spit to the mix. You let your thighs fall apart, his hips quick to fill the space and press his cock against you. His hands go to your waist as he kisses you, sucking and biting on your lips until you’re whining with it, but he doesn’t let up. He’s desperate, messy, and it’s only making your pussy drool even more.

The rain hits the window still, cooling off a little but still providing a calming effect to your room when combined with the orange-pink of your lamp. He inches his palms up your shirt, the softness of his hands surprising you, and then he’s pulling away from your mouth to yank the fabric over your head.

You’re left in just your pyjama bottoms, lips kiss bitten and nipples pebbled against the cool air of your bedroom. You never had shut your window, after all.

“Oh,” Jisung says, exasperated. You finally open your eyes to see him staring at your tits, and you think he might be drooling. “Oh, yeah, my baby. They are so fucking good.”

You almost laugh, but you’re cut off by your own strangled moan when his pouty lips engulf your right nipple. He sucks on it, hard, and when your back arches he lets it slip out of his mouth with a wet popping noise. It’s only a brief moment of reprieve before he’s letting his teeth skim along the bud, and you keen, fingers moving upwards from his shoulders to grip onto the pillow behind your head.

“Oh, that’s so- Sungie, baby, that feels good,” You whine, and he hums against your breast. When he moves to the other one, he tweaks your wet nipple between two fingers. It’s experimental, but the whole thing is, and you buck your hips up impatiently.

His hands move to your ass, scooping underneath you and making you grind slightly against him. The movement makes him moan, your nipple leaving his mouth. A string of drool attaches to his lips and his tongue lolls out lazily, and before you can process it, he’s grinding his cock into your clothed centre.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” He whines, eyes clenching shut. You whimper in response, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Baby- baby, baby. Baby, I’ve thought about this so much, I- fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

His words are so crude that they make you keen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought about it too. I- I touched myself thinking about it, Sungie, did you?”

He gasps sharply, and there’s a fumbling between your legs. He rocks backwards on his haunches, and you see him gripping his cock impatiently underneath his boxers, fingers wrapped tight around the base.

“I will literally cum if I imagine that,” He huffs, breathless. “But yes. I did, many times, and- and- baby, can I see your pussy?”

It’s so bold that you can’t say no. You never would have dreamed of saying no anyway, and you nod, wiggling your bottoms down your legs. You never wear a bra or panties underneath your pyjamas, and your pussy is revealed to him in all its drooly glory, folds sticking together with your arousal.

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. You watch him jerk his cock, eyes fixated on your wet hole, and you shift impatiently.

“I showed you mine, Sungie,” You huff. “Show me yours.”

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. Your clit is swollen with arousal, some wetness stuck onto it, and you reach down to trace your fingertips over it absentmindedly while he pushes his boxers down. His cock slaps up against the bottom of his tummy, cockhead leaking beneath his foreskin, precum slicking the smattering of hair at his base. His balls look heavy, shaft swollen and fat between lithe thighs, and you can’t help but go a little googly eyed at the thought of him stretching you out.

He grabs it, pumps his cock a few times while you rub your fingers over your clit. “Is- is it okay, baby?” He gasps, cock leaking steadily in his fist.

“You’re so sexy, Sungie, ‘s so big. I- oh,” You whine, spreading your arousal over your folds. You prop your feet up, letting your legs fall wide, and the movement must expose your soppy hole to Jisung because his eyes widen even further. “I want you inside of me so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, I just- shit, Jisung, what are you-“

You’re cut off by him diving between your legs. His cock is forgotten, his hands looping around your ass again to spread you wide, and his tongue presses against your core. He moans at the taste, and you whimper out loud, head rolling against your pillow. It’s messy and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but when he sucks your clit between his lips you can’t find it in you to care.

“Oh, oh- baby, baby! You’re good at that, so good at that, baby,” You babble, trying your best not to grind up into his mouth. His mouth is just as wet as your pussy, his lips drooling all over you. You’re cut short when he flattens his tongue against your core, moaning out loud, and his hands move your ass just a bit. “I- you- Sungie-?”

“Grind on my face, baby, c’mon,” He murmurs, muffled by your folds, and you oblige. Your hand goes to his hair, yanking on the dark brown strands, and you hold him in place while you grind your pussy senseless on his tongue. Your boy is good with his mouth, you realise - he’s pliant, letting you make yourself cum on his tongue and lips, and after only a few grinds you’re sure you’re going to fall apart for him.

“Ah! Ah, oh, baby, your mouth is- Sungie, Sungie,” You whine, feet kicking on the bed. Your legs go flat, but as the pleasure builds up in your core, your thighs tighten around his ears. He likes this, moaning loud to the point the vibrations make you jolt. It’s all so wet, your pussy dripping with arousal and his saliva, dripping down to your asshole. It has you wondering if Jisung would eat your ass further down the line, and your eyes flicker to his - would he let you eat his? He probably would, with how submissive he’s being.

His hips buck downwards on the bed and he keens into your pussy, and you realise he’s humping your mattress. He’s so desperate for you that he just can’t help himself, and you moan, loud and unabashed. The sight has you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, baby,” You warn, and he finally lets up, pulling back to suck on your clit. His hand moves over to the top of your pussy, pulling your mound backwards, and the exposure of your clit directly to his lips is your downfall. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth, and you can hear yourself talking and moaning but you’re not sure what you’re saying, only able to feel your hole gushing into Jisung’s mouth over and over.

Jisung licks over your clit a few times comfortingly, and then he’s on top of you again, face looming over yours. His right hand holds him up steadily and the other stays downwards, hooked on your thigh to keep you open.

“You taste delicious, baby,” He grins, mouth wet. When he presses his lips to yours he’s desperate, tongue darting into your mouth to let you taste your own cum. You let your hands fall to his chest, fingernails digging into the muscles. The filthiness of it all has you wriggling around impatiently again, and Jisung’s cockhead slips against your clit, making you whine into his mouth. He pulls away, gasping for air with the sensation, and you kiss the beauty spot on his cheek for good measure. “Baby. M-my baby, shit, can- can I fuck you now? Have you got a condom, I- shit, I need to fuck you?”

He’s breathless, giggling at his own desperation, and you nod eagerly. You’re on the pill, and realistically you’d want nothing more than him to creampie you, but you have a shred of logic still left in your brain. “No condom. I- I don’t have any, can you pull out? I know it’s not-“

“Don’t care,” He huffs, legs moving to prop himself up more securely. His knees dig into your bed, and he pulls your thigh further apart, letting his eyes fall down to your pussy. His face is more than pornographic when he sees the visual of his cockhead sliding through your folds, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a small profanity leaving his mouth. “You’re sure I can fuck you raw? I- please, p-please, baby. I need to be inside.”

“Jisung,” You whine. He lets his tip bump against your clit again, and you grow too desperate, reaching down yourself to grab his cock. The feeling makes him whimper, his fingers ripping into the pillow beside your head with his superhuman strength, but you’re too out of it to care. You position his cock by your hole, soppy and wet with your own cum, and he can’t hold himself back - he pushes in, all of it at once, a long, anguished noise leaving his mouth. “Oh. Oh- Oh, Jisung, that’s-“

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Jisung asks, breathless. “Does it hurt? I- baby, baby-“

He’s still completely stationary, but he can’t stop talking, chest heaving and flushed pink. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt. You’re wet enough that he glided in so easy, stretching your pussy in the most pleasurable, delicious way. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good, but you’re sure it’s because it’s Jisung.

“God, is it- does it feel good?” He questions you, and you nod eagerly, hands moving to rest on his biceps. He repositions you both so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms holding himself up over you, and the movement has him sliding deeper, making you whimper. “Can I-“

“Fucking hell, Jisung, can you just move?” You huff, annoyed, and he giggles. He shakes his head fondly, and then he’s thrusting into you, slow but steady.

“Oh, that’s good,” He slurs, eyes rolling back into his head. “That pussy’s good. Jesus, you’re- you’re tight on my cock, baby, like a fuckin’ vice.”

“Your cock is so good,” You whine, trying to fuck yourself back on him. Your pussy is so wet that every thrust makes an audible noise, ringing throughout your room. If anyone walked past now they’d hear the debauchery, and you’re not sure you’d even care. “Fuck, Jisung- Jisung, you’re big. Please, please, more, I need more!”

“Okay, okay,” He moans, and then his hips speed up. His balls slap against your asshole with every thrust, his cock pistoning into you at a pace that has you wailing. The headboard slams against the wall. “Oh, fuckin’- baby, this puusssy.”

“It feels so good. Your cock is stretching me out so good, baby-“

“Fuck, wait,” He whines, pulling out sharply. When you look down between his legs his cock is painfully hard, and his pubic hair is drenched with you. The sight makes you even more eager to get him back inside of you, but Jisung grabs the base of his cock tightly, his chest heaving. “I- I’ll cum if you talk like that. Fuck, this is so embarrassing!”

“I want you to cum,” You insist, leaning up on your elbows. Your pussy is still leaking steadily onto your bedsheets, and you make grabby hands at your boy to try and get him back inside of you. “You made me cum so good in your mouth, Sungie, c’mon. Make yourself cum with my pussy.”

“Oh my God,” He moans, eyes half lidded, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re dirty. My fucking dream, holy shit.”

He leans over you once more, pushing his cock inside of you. It slides back in easily with another wet noise, and you moan, smiling with delight. “Mm, fuck this pussy, baby, c’mon.”

“I- fuck, okay,” He keens, nodding. His teeth bite into his lower lip almost painfully, and you kiss his neck while he starts to fuck into you again. With a quick reposition you let your thighs fall apart and further back, and his cock starts to hit your g-spot incessantly. He pulls away from you, head lolling into your neck. His breaths fan over your skin, hot and heavy. “You’re so wet, why are you- how are you so wet, baby? This pussy, fucking- I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, I’m so close, please-“

The shred of logic has left your brain. His cock feels so good, thick and pressing inside of you. You have to let him do it. “Baby. Baby, do y’wanna- I’m on the pill, baby,” You say, breathless. His pace stops, hips halting, and he makes a confused noise. “Cum inside. Creampie this hole, Sungie, I know you want to.”

“Oh my fucking- baby? My baby, can I?” He wails, head pulling up to look at you. You catch sight of tears brewing in his eyes, glassy and unshed. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, where-? Baby?”

“Inside of me, Sungie,” You wrap your legs around him, pulling him inside of you, deep. You know he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, hips starting to pick up inside of you again. It’s fast, desperate and he keens, nodding. “You gonna fill me up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, yes, oh- I’m gonna fill you up,” Jisung’s words are slurred, quiet, and you let him fuck into you over and over. With a sharp noise, his hips slow once more, and you feel a rush of additional wetness inside of you. It’s warm, and you run your fingers through his hair while he fucks his cum inside of you. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so good to me, so good. Lettin’ me breed your cunt, and- and- oh. I’m still-“

He’s still cumming. It floods out of his cock and into your pussy steadily, and you giggle, feeling sated. Your delighted state of mind only lasts a second, because he pulls out sharply and wiggles down on the bed, attaching his mouth to your cunt. He’s eating his own cum out of you.

“Oh! Oh, Jisung, you’re- you’re dirty, Sungie, ah-“ You whine, fingers moving to his hair again. He licks you over and over until you’re wailing with it, your own tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation. Your hole feels stretched, a feeling you’re sure you could get used to, and you shake through a second orgasm.

Jisung’s quick to lean over you again, and then his thumb moves to your chin. He opens your mouth firmly, spitting your combined release into your mouth, and you moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips afterwards.

It’s messy and you let him kiss you for a bit, slow, languid, passionate kisses that have your core almost throbbing for more, if you weren’t so satisfied. Jisung’s soft cock presses against your tummy, wet with your combined arousal, and then he flops down next to you with a huff.

“God, I could go again,” He admits, hand running through his sweat mussed hair. When you turn to him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and you giggle. He looks at you with a satisfied expression. “You’re the best. That was literally like, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Even more than when I win some fight against an alien, or something.”

“Alien?” You ask, and then you remember. “Oh, yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“You forgot about me saving your life?!” He shrieks, thrashing around on the bed in a tantrum. “Seriously, if I wasn’t in love with you I would- ah. Oh.”

You blanch, blinking at him. It’s easy to ignore that you’re both naked when he’s just dropped a bombshell on you like that, and you let out a giggle. “That was sweet. I’m in love with you too, for the record.”

You’re attacked in a flurry of kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re sure Han Jisung intrigues you just as much as his superhero alterego does, so it’s easy to accept.

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sena-seastar · 6 months ago

Text

Mine all mine

Aemond x Wife reader

Summary: Yours and Aemond's child refuses to let you sleep.

A/N: This is a short fluff piece I wrote two years ago after season one ended. I just thought I would post it now.

“Hush now, little one, I’ve-” you yawn, trying to blink the sleep away from your eyes. “I’ve got you.” You tiredly cooed as you picked up the writhing baby from her cradle for the fourth time.

“She’s quite restless tonight,” your husband groaned from your shared bed.

You patted the baby on the back to soothe the sniffling girl, humming in agreement. Then, you placed the back of your hand against her clammy forehead.

“She’s quite warm; perhaps we should send for a maester?”

You watched as Aemond sat up. He instinctively reached for the black leather eyepatch to conceal his sapphire eye before stopping himself. It had taken him almost a year after the two of you wed before he felt comfortable enough to let you see him without it. But even now, a couple of years later, insecurity still managed to worm its way under his skin.

His long hair started falling out of the simple braid you had put it in before bed. The child gurgled and squirmed with excitement when he walked to your side.

A wide grin stretched across his face as your daughter squealed with delight as he took her into his arms.

“How is my little one feeling? Mother thinks you're unwell,” he scrunched his face, making the baby giggle.

“I’m serious, Aemond. You know what the maester said. If she gets another fever, we should take her to him.”

“She’s a little warm, my love. Most likely from that thick blanket, you insisted on wrapping her in.” He chided, lazily gesturing towards the cradle.

“She was cold,” you mumble, realizing that perhaps the man was right. Not that you were willing to admit that to him.

Your little family made your way back to the large bed in the middle of the room. The sky was beginning to lighten, though the sun had yet to appear. The loud chirping of birds could be heard, along with the servants who had awoken to start their daily duties before the nobles awoke. You climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over your body to fight off the morning chill. Aemond rested his back against the pillows, sitting your child on his lap.

You watched with a smile as Daenys toyed with her father’s fingers. She quickly lowered her face and bit down. The man pulled it back with an exaggerated hiss. The little girl froze, her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open in shock. However, her mood swiftly changed as she giggled at her father’s pained expression. She grinned widely, exposing the two front teeth that had recently sprouted from her gums.

“Carefully, husband, or you may lose a finger,” you tease.

The man shot you a playful glare before lecturing the child on biting. However, it only seemed to make the child giggle even more.

“Now, Daenys, what have we said about the biting? You do not bite kepa. Save that for your uncle.”

You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“Do you want me to take her?” You asked. “There’s no use in both of us being exhausted.”

“No, you get some rest,” he replied absent-mindedly.

Aemond kept his gaze on your little girl. A giddy smile sat on his lips as Daenys crawled up his chest. He took hold of one of her chubby little hands, holding it to his mouth, pretending to eat it. She squealed, pulling it away before holding it out for him to take again.

You smiled and rested your head on the soft feather pillow beneath you, watching as the two people most dear to your heart played together. It was such a heartwarming sight. You fought to keep your eyes open, but sleep had won.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fire and blood #hotd #girldad!aemond #dad!aemond #blurb

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stygian-rook · 2 years ago

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body hurts, head hurts. yeah everything sucks tonight.

#i cant even think #i just wanna pretend i have a hot; chubby; hairy guy holding me #is that too hard to ask brain???#let me think :(((

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beloveds-embrace · 16 days ago

Text

(you and john price, your bear of a man, spend a winter day together. Chubby!reader)

The snow piled high against the cabin windows, muting the world outside into soft, endless white. It was the kind of winter storm that promised days of quiet seclusion- a chance to disappear from the world and pretend it was just the two of you.

Wrapped in a thick quilt, you lay curled against John’s furry chest, your body pressed so close to his that you could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. He was impossibly warm, his body heat wrapping around you like a living furnace, and his scent- smoke, pine, and something uniquely him- made you feel so safe and content.

His large hand rested on your hip, fingers splayed wide as if to remind himself of just how much of you there was to hold. He traced idle circles through the soft fabric of your sleepwear, but the barrier did little to dull the sensation of his rough fingertips against you.

“You’re so soft.” He murmured, voice low and honeyed with sleep. He shifted slightly, pressing his nose into your hair to breathe you in. His beard scraped lightly against your skin, and you shivered despite the warmth.

“Too soft, some would say.” You mumbled, though your voice was half-hearted.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes catching the firelight as they roamed over your features- lazy and reverent, like he had all the time in the world to admire you, admire every inch of soft, supple flesh.

“There’s no such thing,” he said firmly, his voice like gravel but softened by the affection in his tone. “Not for me.”

His hand moved again, trailing from your hip to your waist, then higher, brushing over the curve of your belly. He lingered there, his palm flattening against the plushness as his thumb stroked gently.

“Love this,” he murmured, grumbling, almost to himself. “Every inch of you- soft, warm. Like you were made just for me.”

Your breath caught, and you squirmed slightly under his touch, but his grip tightened- not enough to hold you still, just enough to let you know he wasn’t letting go.

“John-”

“Let me look at you,” he interrupted gently, pulling back more so he could take you in. The blanket shifted as he guided you onto your back, his body following so that he loomed over you, one arm propping himself up while the other continued its slow exploration of your curves.

His gaze dragged over you, lingering at the soft swell of your stomach and the plushness of your thighs. He made no attempt to hide his admiration- his eyes darkened, his lips parting slightly like he couldn’t quite find the words to describe how much he loved what he saw.

“You’re perfect,” he said finally, thick with conviction. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of your collarbone before nuzzling into your neck, the soft skin of your chin. “So damn perfect, love.”

Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. It wasn’t just lust in his eyes- though there was plenty of that, too. It was adoration, raw and unfiltered, as if he couldn’t believe you were real and with him.

He trailed kisses down your shoulder, his beard scratching lightly against your skin, but his hand never stopped moving- palming your waist, gripping your hip, sliding down to cup the curve of your thigh. Every touch felt reverent, like he was memorizing you all over again.

“Always thought I’d end up alone,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed your ear. “Never thought I’d be this lucky, having such a sweet, soft lady waiting for me at home.”

“John-”

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lips to quiet you. “Let me show you.”

And he did. He pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your jaw. He worshiped you with his hands, tracing every soft curve and plush line like he was afraid you might slip away if he stopped.

Eventually, he settled back against the pillows, pulling you with him so you could curl into his side once more. He tucked you close, burying his face in your hair, and the rumble in his chest was unmistakable this time- a low, contented sound that almost made you laugh.

“I knew it,” you teased, your voice muffled against his chest. “You can purr.”

His chest vibrated again, but this time with laughter. “Only for you.” He admitted, tightening his arms around you.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, the world was warm and quiet. Wrapped in John’s arms, with his steady heartbeat in your ear and his hands never straying far from your soft, warm body, you couldn’t imagine anywhere else you’d rather be.

#noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #john price x reader #john price x you #john price imagines #john price drabble

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bandgie · 10 months ago

Note

Would you maybe be interested in this?

https://www.tumblr.com/thefantasydenthoughts/745174509121929216/sending-one-more-i-hope-im-not-annoying-i-feel?source=share

a/n: (link) I am yes BUT you know I have to add my own twist

Synopsis: You never expected to run into three terrifyingly handsome men the night you ran away on your wedding, but you didn't expect them to be so inviting either.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, 4some, jerking off, multiple orgasms (f!), light pussy play, PIV, cumming inside, no protection, lots of boob play, overstim (f!), GUN INVOLVEMENT (not nsfw), kidnapping?? (kinda), prolly missed more lmao

4.3k words

"Don't scream," you hear a deep voice whisper in your ear before your mouth is covered. "Unless you want metal in your head."

Your small whimpers muffle in his hand, but you nod. The man with chubby cheeks gives you a sympathetic look and frowns at the one holding a gun to your head. "Do you have to say that? You're gonna make her cry."

"Jisung," a cat-like man says his name sternly. "We don't have time for this, let's go."

Jisung grumbles while they lead you to an alleyway away from the main street. The tall man behind you keeps the gun to your head, guiding you to follow them. There are hardly any lights this deep into an alley, but the moon provides enough to help you spot a parked car.

They're taking you back. The thought of your arranged marriage makes you cry, weeping in the hands of your kidnappers. Tears seep through the man's fingers and you taste the saltiness on your lips. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, but the hand on your mouth prevents you from properly inhaling.

You shake your head back and forth, trying to escape from his grip. "No," you sob. "I don't wanna go back. Don't send me back. Please."

The man with the cat eyes unlocks the car and opens the backseat door. "Damn Hyunjin. What'd you tell her?"

"I didn't say shit!" Hyunjin has to bump you toward the car as you try to escape. "She just started crying. Are you sure we have the right girl?"

It takes Hyunjin and Jisung to put you in the car. To ensure your captivity, each of them sits beside you, thigh to thigh. The other one sits in the front, roaring the car engine to life. "All I was told was that she had white heels. That's it."

You're still crying, hiccuping as Hyunjin keeps the gun pointed steadily at you. Jisung takes a comforting approach, opting to hold your shaky hands and smooth over your skin. "Nothing is gonna happen, okay?" He smiles wearily at you. "Just a few questions. That's all."

No way that's all. If your fiancé sent them, they'll do more than just ask questions. "D-don't lie to me," you say through your tears. "You're gonna send me back to h-him and make me m-marry him and you'll kill me if I don't." You expect them to keep feeding you lies in an attempt to calm you, but Jisung's expression is utterly confused.

"Marry? Marry who?" It's the driver who asks. He hasn't put the car into gear yet as he turns to look at you. His face is more terrifying when he's pissed. "Who are you?"

Shouldn't you be asking them that?

But you tell them. You tell them how you were set up for an arranged marriage with a man whose name you don't even know. You tell them that tonight is the night you ran away from your wedding. You're sure he's sent people to find you, and since Hyunjin had that god-forsaken gun, you thought they were the ones.

"Holy shit," Jisung swears when you finish your story. "Chan is gonna kill us."

You're not sure who Chan is, but you're not eager to find out. "Don't tell him! I promise I won't say anything. I swear. I'll pretend like nothing happened and...and I'll give you anything you want! I have money! I don't care how much you ask for, just don't hurt me." Your bottom lip trembles.

Han shares a look with Hyunjin who looks at the man in the front for directions.

"Listen," the driver speaks softly. "We aren't gonna hurt you. We weren't even thinking of it. We were supposed to question a different girl but someone got it wrong." He shoots a look at Jisung. "But I promise, pretty, nothing's gonna happen to you, okay?"

He sounds sincere, and whether he means it or not, it makes you feel just a little better. You nod and wipe the tears sliding down your face, trying to control your breathing. Hyunjin seems to have long abandoned the gun and Jisung’s hand moved to your knee. Suddenly, it’s not too scary having them pushed against you.

"See?" Jisung gives you a sweet smile. "You're gonna be okay. Minho looks all mean, but he's not too bad."

Minho grunts.

"Okay, maybe he is a little bad, but he's not all bad." Jisung gives a reassuring squeeze.

You nod, trying to smile but the need for air is more important. You're still in your wedding dress with a huge coat over it. With the two men sitting hip-to-hip with you, it's starting to feel hot and uncomfortable. You try fanning yourself with your hand, but it's not enough. Deciding it’s better to remove your coat, you slowly shrug the material off. It slides down your shoulders to reveal the dress you tried so hard to conceal.

It's beautiful, much to your dismay. A corset wrapped tightly at your waist so your breasts overfill at the top. It's loose on the bottom, with a slit starting at your upper thigh to expose your leg. It makes you look accentuated, yes, but it's a reminder that you were a pawn. You wish you could remove it entirely.

"Oh wow," Jisung can't help his shock. His eyes lock at your chest before traveling up to your neck. "You look...you look...I mean you were getting married, I know, but-"

"You look beautiful," Hyunjin saves Jisung from embarrassment. You discard the coat on the floor of the car before looking at Hyunjin. Maybe it's because he's no longer threatening you, but he looks charming under the car lights. His eyes remind you of how the crescent moon looks high in the sky. Though his lips seem to demand your attention from his smile, you can’t help but be drawn to the shining metal on his eyebrow.

"I uhh...thanks," you aren't sure which enchanting features to look at. “You look…good too.”

"Thank you," he giggles. "So is this what you were gonna wear for a man you've never even met?" Hyunjin gestures at your dress. Your smile falters and you nod. "What a waste," he places his large hand on your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "Such a pretty thing like you deserves so much more. Don't you think, Ji?"

"So much more," Jisung scoots closer to you. His hand goes to your knee while leaning into your neck. "So pretty." His breath is warm on your skin. His body heat feels like an inviting blanket you want to wrap yourself in. Though you haven’t spoken to Jisung much, he seems to be the ‘nicest’. He was the only one who made an effort to calm you down, even if it didn’t help much at the time.

You can tell Jisung wants to touch you more. He's practically vibrating with need, but he holds back. The only sign he gives you is the hand on your leg. It never travels up, but his fingers make small circles on your skin. His hesitation only works you up more. Feeling his hand on your knee is only a hint at what you might endure tonight. You're surprised to see how much you want to feel all of them touching you.

Still, you have the mind to remember how scared you were moments ago. “I don't- I don't think-" You're cut off by Hyunjin tracing his thumb on your mouth. He taps your bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal your lower teeth.

"Don't think, angel," he sounds like a dream. "You're safe with us, that's all that matters."

Safe? That you aren't too sure of, but you don't try to stop Hyunjin when he leans in. His hand is steady on your cheek while his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, a gentle mingling to let you know he wouldn't do anything you're not ready for. You tilt your head up to get more of his taste. A specific flavor of coolness meets your mouth, he must wear chapstick.

Mint, you think.

The kiss deepens and his tongue swipes against your lip. You debate on it, unsure if you're really wanting to fuck the same guys who scared the shit out of you minutes ago. But everything just feels so good. Hyunjin's mouth and Han's inching hand. You're already on the run from your finance, what's the harm in fucking up more?

You part your lips, inviting Hyunjin's tongue. He inhales and grunts at the wetness of yours. They slide together and mix, twisting into an open-mouthed kiss crudely.

Hyunjin properly reattaches his mouth to suck on your bottom lip, pulling the skin in a way that makes you whine. Jisung takes the opportunity to slide his hand up the slit, finding home at your inner thigh. You feel his mouth attach to the exposed part of your neck. His tongue is hot on your skin, licking and sucking until your throat turns a bright shade of pink.

"Are you guys seriously gonna fuck in my car?"

Oh. Right, there's another person here. Hyunjin slowly pulls away from you. The lack of kissing has you chasing his lips, blindly following the sensation.

Han whines in the crook of your neck, sparing a look at Minho who looks both irritated and aroused.

"But Minhooo..." Jisung pouts. "She's so pretty."

"So pretty," Hyunjin parrots.

"And we weren't very nice to her at first. This is us making it up! This is the least we owe her, don't you think?" Jisung must have Minho under some type of spell because his features soften. There's a brief moment of silence that's nearly deafening. The attention shifts from Minho to you, and you can hardly stand the tension.

"I...I want to."

"Oh, you do?" Minho doesn't sound too friendly. "Alright then. Go ahead." He twists his body so it's fully facing you and the other men. You hear Hyunjin groan and Jisung giggle. They waste no time in getting back to their original position, though Jisung seems eager to spread your legs wide this time.

The feeling of two hot mouths lands on both sides of your neck. You gasp, fists gripping their pants.

You lock eyes with Minho to see a smirk on his lips. "You're...you're just gonna watch?"

Minho's smile widens, "Why? Is two not enough for you?"

Hyunjin laughs against your skin while you blush. "That's not what I meant," you whimper when Jisung bites down on your flesh. "I just...I don't want you to-"

"He's a big boy, angel," Hyunjin picks up his head from your neck. "If he wants to watch, he can watch you cum on my dick, okay?" You turn redder, hand coming up to cover your bashful expression.

It's a good thing you've got something covering your mouth because Jisung has managed to infiltrate your underwear amidst the conversation. He massages your cunt through the material in slow circles. You hum and widen your legs while Hyunjin helps to hike the dress up to your waist.

"No, she’s gonna cum on me first!” Jisung pouts. “I wanna be the first one.” To drive his point home, Jisung moves your underwear to the side. He spreads your lips to show the arousal collecting somewhat proudly. “I did this! It’s not fair that Hyunjin calls the shots when I’m the one who got her wet! And I was the only one nice to her!”

Ah, that’s true. Even if Han’s throwing a bit of a tantrum, you can’t help but find it somewhat cute. The points he makes are valid, and if he wasn’t as welcoming as he was in the beginning, you would probably be doing something very different than what you are now.

Though Han’s directing his whining at the others, you nod. “I…I don’t mind if Jisung goes first.” Your words quiet the car before Jisung looks at you with an endearing smile. “Really?!” He claps when you nod.

“See!” He looks at Hyunjin. “You don’t get to get everything just ‘cause you’re handsome.”

You giggle as Jisung grabs you by the waist to hover you a few inches off the seat. He slides underneath your ass and wiggles his pants down, using a hand to free his cock. Hyunjin still keeps the dress at your waist so you’re able to see Jisung spring-free when you look down.

It’s a lot thicker than you thought. It flushes a deep color while the head of his cock is even darker. A few small veins trail along his length, but one along the sides has you already lowering yourself down in anticipation.

“Whatever. You’re just opening her up for me,” Hyunjin grumbles.

His words are lost to you and Jisung as he taps his tip on the front of your pussy. Jisung swivels his hips so he’s able to smear his pre-cum over your cunt. You match his movements, grinding back and forth so your clit can catch his flared tip. It’s hard to steady yourself while wearing heels, so you find leverage by hanging onto the headrests of the front seats where Minho sits.

“Can’t forget about these,” Minho hums to himself as he reaches for your corset. He loosens the top part of your dress before spilling your breasts out, cupping and groping them. He flicks your nipples in an attempt to get them to harden. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinches the buds until you squeal.

Hyunjin can’t contain himself anymore. He watches as Jisung gets to rub his dick all over your pretty cunt and as Minho plays with your tits. Finding a solution, Hyunjin bunches the material of your dress in one hand behind your back so a newly free hand can finally touch you somewhere. And that somewhere is your cunt.

“Don’t you want Jisung in your pussy already? Hm?” You feel Hyunjin slide his long fingers to Han’s cock so he can push it up. The tip slightly breaches your entrance, but there’s not enough force for it to go in all the way. Still, you can feel the warmth of it, of all of them. Minho’s soft yet ruthless hands twisting your nipples until they blossom with pink; Han’s hot dick sliding across your pussy; and Hyunjin’s warm fingers guiding the cock where it should go.

You nod, though you aren’t sure if he can tell.

Hyunjin grabs the base of Han’s cock and angles it to your cunt. “So wet already, it should slide in real good.” He tugs the back of your dress as a sign to lower yourself. Hyunjin is careful to make sure Han’s cock stays perfectly aligned with your hole despite how much he’s moving. Your lower lips spread as the head of his cock breaches your entrance, a whine leaving you. Inch by inch, you take Han’s length inside of you, thighs burning as you slowly make your descent.

Minho’s hands travel from your chest to your shoulders, helping you fully settle on Han’s cock. “Shit, look at that,” he laughs breathlessly. “Pussy opens so good for him.” You whine at Minho’s praise, finding the motivation to finally sink fully into his cock with a moan.

“Gotta fuck you,” Jisung whimpers from behind. His hands find the curve of your hips before he thrusts upwards. You squeal at his intrusion, thighs shaking. “J-Jisung! Can’t- I can’t- Just wait let me-” But he doesn’t wait and a bigger part of you is glad. You can feel his thighs slapping against the bottom of yours, how he’s whining just behind your ear with soft apologies.

“So, so good. Pussy so good to me, baby. I- fuck- ‘m sorry. I’ll be slower next time, mkay? I promise.” Jisung opts to wrap his arms around your middle torso to properly fuck up into you. Your tits bounce at his harsh thrusts and Minho doesn’t hesitate to get back to work on them. He takes hold of your nipples and pulls, watching your back arch forward. The whimper that leaves your mouth is heavenly, and Hyunjin can’t help but grow restless.

The taller man moves his hand to rub on your clit, moving the flesh in wide circles. Your jaw drops and you tilt your head to look at Hyunjin, eyes glazed with tears and arousal from the overstimulation. He gives you a dazzling smile, “You should see how you look, angel. Gettin’ all worked up over one dick. It’s so cute.”

Your styled hair must be a mess from the way Jisung keeps pounding into you. Your dress is wrinkled and damn near disheveled at the top because of Minho’s persistent groping. And you’re sure the expensive makeup can only last so long. So to hear Hyunin call you cute seems like it should be impossible, but the look on his face screams authenticity. You mean to thank him, to say anything that could describe how grateful you are for all of them making your night, but the moment you open your mouth, it’s moans and cries that sound instead.

“Fuck! Her pussy,” Jisung groans. “Gonna make me cum. I can cum in you, right? Can I?” The desperation in his voice makes you want to agree, but it’s Minho who answers him. “You get to fuck her first and cum in her? That hardly sounds fair.” Even though you can see the smirk on Minho’s lips, Jisung cries out as if he’s been wounded. His embrace around you tightens and his thrusts grow sloppy. Despite that, your cunt hugs his cock eagerly, begging for his cum. The walls of your pussy feel stretched and used, but you can feel your womb aching to be filled.

“Want it…” you moan. “All of it. I want all of it.”

It’s as if you’re Jisung’s savior. He can’t help but laugh, looking at his hyungs with triumph. “Heard that? You heard that, right?” He kisses the exposed part of your neck tenderly. “Thank you, baby, thank you. Imma fill you up nice and full. Gonna be leaking with my cum for weeks.”

“Gross,” you hear Hyunjin grimace. There’s not a chance to glance at him before Jisung bucks up into you with fervor. You gasp, leaning forward towards Minho so Jisung can have full access to your pussy. It’s wet, it’s lewd, and Hyunjin only makes the sounds louder as his fingers flick back and forth against your nub.

You’re reminded of how tired your legs are in this position, but that thought is distracted by a warm mouth enveloping your breast. You look down to see Minho peering up at you through his lashes, your nipple between his teeth. He gently bites before sucking it back into his mouth, letting his tongue graze the bud repeatedly. He hallows his mouth to make a powerful suction and leans his head back, taking your tit with him.

It’s no shock when you cum, but it is sudden. You’re not sure which action made you finally tip over, but Jisung can feel the gushing of your cunt and the squeezing of your walls on his cock. Hyunjin can feel how much wetter your clit has gotten, how it twitches in his hold. Minho only giggles when your entire body vibrates, tits jiggling in his mouth.

Han whines, “Is she cumming? I can feel her pussy creaming all over my cock. Shit, feels so good baby. Gonna make me cum.”

“Mhm,” Hyunjin looks at your wrecked state that barely manages to keep you upright. “She’s cumming all right. Don’t think she can take much more, Ji. Hurry up or she’ll pass out on my turn.”

The thought of having Hyunjin fuck you makes you clench on Jisung’s cock. It seems like he appreciates this, moaning before spilling hot cum into your pussy. It floods your cunt in streaks, finding a place deep in your womb. Your knuckles turn white from the grip you have on the headrests, teeth digging into your lower lip just to keep yourself from being too loud. Jisung groans and rests his forehead on your back, giving you tired thrusts to ride out his high.

“God- fuck! You put a spell on this pussy or something? Squeezing me so tight like it doesn’t wanna let me go.” Jisung struggles to pull himself out of you. He adjusts his hands back to your hips so he can lift you, slowly dragging his cock against your walls. You moan at the feeling of him sliding out. It’s cautious and slow, a good alternative from how roughly he was fucking you. The two of you let out a loud whine when he’s fully out.

“About time,” Hyunjin pushes Jisung out of the way. Jisung frowns, “Hey! That’s not very nice.”

Hyunjin laughs, shaking his head as he adjusts himself to how Jisung was. “Shut up. Just hold her dress up.” With grumbles, the younger man listens and bunches your wedding dress in his fists. Hyunjin slides the tip of the cock on your pussy, sending overstimulating shocks throughout your body.

“Make it fast,” Minho directs his attention to Hyunjin. “We’ve overstayed.” Hyunjin nods, but not without a few mumbles under his breath before sinking himself inside of you.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Han’s cock wasn’t the longest, but it hardly lacked the thickness to stretch you out. With Han, it felt like you were being lolled around, but with Hyunjin, you can’t help but still. His cock goes deep, a never-ending feeling of being probed. You throw your head back, uncaring for how loud your moan is. Hyunjin shivers under you, hands shaky as he quickly finds a pace to fuck into you.

Minho has a front-seat view. It’s an understatement to say he’s amazed at how well you’re taking Hyunjin. Your cunt flutters open perfectly for him, clit swollen from being rubbed. Minho watches the inches upon inches being slammed into you before being pulled out. You can’t blame him when you see him sneak a hand to undo his jeans before pulling his cock out.

“Shit! Can’t believe you got to fuck this pussy first,” Hyunjn moans out to Jisung. “Still so tight.”

Jisung is wiggling in his seat despite already cumming, Like Minho, he’s slowly stroking his soft cock at the sight. “Mhm. Tight little pussy. He’s fucking you real good, huh?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, you’re too busy trying not to scream at the bruising pace Hyunjin’s set. If you thought Jisung was rough, then Hyunjin is brutal.

“T-too much!” You yelp when Hyunjin finds a certain spot in your cunt. He feels your walls clench so violently that Jisung’s cum leaks onto his cock. “N-not there,” you whimper. “Can’t take it.”

“But it feels so good there,” Hyunjin retaliates. For once, his hips slow to purposely drag his cock across that spot. You squirm and hiccup in his hold, squealing at how overwhelmingly blissful it feels. Jisung wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting the drool that’s begun to seep through your lips before popping it in his mouth to suck.

Hyunjin drives his cock deep inside, “You feel that?” He pulls a few inches out and grinds in again. “That’s where I’mma put all my cum. Right in here.” You shiver at his words, nodding mindlessly. He smiles at your pliant state though you can’t see. “Good girl.”

“And you called me gross,” Jisung rolls his eyes, thumb still in his mouth as he watches Hyunjin desperately get himself to cum inside you. His words are hardly noticed though amongst the sound of skin and moans. All you can focus on is how close Hyunjin can bring you in such a short amount of time. He’s focused on fucking you right and you can feel how hot his body is. He brings you back down on his cock with such vigor that your entire body jiggles at the force. Minho’s eyes switch between your cunt swallowing Hyunjin’s cock to your breasts. You wish you could reach over and replace his hand with your own, but Hyunjin has a strong hold on your body for his own use.

His cock twitches in your pussy and he groans. Hyunjin’s hips have started to falter, but you’re hardly upset about it. Your cunt feels beyond abused, leaking with Jisung’s cum every time Hyunjin fucks into you. The familiar feeling of euphoria builds in your stomach and you feel it grow with every powerful thrust. You’re so caught up in the sensation of your approaching orgasm that you almost miss Hyunjin announcing his own high.

“Oh, angel. I’mma cum in you. You want my cum, yeah? Say it. Fuck. Say how much you want it.”

Hyunjin expecting you to talk despite pounding himself into you is comical, but you manage to squeak out small words. “So bad. I need it, Hyunnie. I- I wanna feel it inside me, please.” Your babbling is more than enough for Hyunjin to unload. He shivers and stills his hips flush against your ass, letting his cock pump you full of cum.

You can feel his tip pressing against your cervix. His cock is rubbing against your gummy spot so perfectly that you cum seconds after him. Hyunjun moans at the feel of your walls clamping down on him.

When he slips out of you, your thighs fold until you collapse on his lap wetly. Your legs tremble both from exertion and the pleasure coursing through your body. You rest your head on the middle console, wrapping your arms around your torso in an attempt to stop yourself from shaking. Hyunjin soothingly runs his hands up and down your back, cooing at how well you did with Jisung chiming in with compliments.

It takes you a moment to recognize the wet sound of Minho stroking himself. You tiredly pick your head up just in time with his orgasm. Minho’s cum shoots so far that a few strings of cum land on your face. You blink and flinch at the warm substance, automatically using your tongue to swipe off the gooey liquid.

“Oops,” you can see Minho trying his best not to laugh. “Uhh…let’s take you to Chan’s now.”

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crookedteethed · 7 months ago

Text

HOW i slept with your father | r.c.

Pairing: (older)Bestfriend's Dad Rafe! x Fem!reader

Summary: In which you tell your best friend how you accidentally slept with her father...oops.

Warnings: 18+ Semi-smut (protected p in v) (smut showed through flashback), age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Rafe is in his early forties), cursing, ocs, unrealistic reactions?, hints at Rafe being a fuckboy, I also can't tell if Rafe preyed on reader (you decide for yourself)

A/N: This story is really just reader telling her best friend about her night with Rafe, lmk if you want an actual smutty fic with bestfriend dad Rafe (heart emoticon)

bfd masterlist | main masterlist(s) | taglist | Word count: 1.6k

"Maribella, I had sex with your Father."

There, you said it. Your guilty conscience has been cleared. Your mind has been restored, and you can stop thinking about how much of a terrible friend you are because you're really not. You told the truth.

It's like that old stupid proverb, something about the truth setting you free or you setting the truth free, something like that.

There had been a moment of silence. A moment in which Maribella had slowly turned around from her lowboy vanity, half of her face the color of rose red from the blush powder she'd been frantically beating on her cheeks--you two were going out tonight.

In that moment of silence, you glanced at the ticking clock up on Maribella's wall. It was 8:50 pm, and the boys-- the ones you and Maribella met on the beach that evening, were supposed to pick you both up in thirty minutes.

"Gross." Maribella mumbles, returning to her vanity mirror and continuing to powder her cheeks. "You aren't going to be my new stepmother now, are you?" She says.

You looked at the framed photo on Marbella's vanity--the photo of a smallish Maribella with chubby cheeks and missing baby teeth sandwiched between a very young Mr. Cameron and Maribella's Late mother (She wasn't dead, just not in Maribella's life after the divorce).

You think to yourself how much of a resemblance your friend shares with her father--the same cerulean-colored eyes and dusky blond hair--you remember thinking this that night in which you fucked Mr. Cameron.

You remember having to close your eyes shut while his girthy length pile drove into you during missionary, but Rafe had insisted on keeping your eyes open, or he wouldn't have let you cum that time. "Eyes on me, baby." he said, lightly tapping your cheek.

"No, not if you don't want me to." you said.

Maribella hums.

"To make it even, you can sleep with my father." you suggested, which cause Maribella to scrunch up her face in her backwards reflection.

"Your father's gross and old." She says. "and besides, isn't he still with that women?"

"My mother? Yes."

You watch from your spot on Maribella's bed as she gets up from her vanity and enters her walk-in closet.

"At least I get the appeal with my father." She shouts from the other room.

Minutes later, Maribella emerges from her closet, no longer in her silk bathrobe but in a simple white slip dress.

"How do I look?" she asks you.

"Cute." you tell her.

She hums again, being satisfied with your response. Then, Maribella goes back to her vanity to continue doing her makeup.

"So, tell me." She says. "Tell me how'd you fucked my dad."

You shrug. "It just happened one time." and many other times afterward.

"Y'know." Maribella turns around excitedly. "Out of all the women my dad has slept with, you're the first one I ever gotten to talk to about it, so what was he like?"

Now it was your turn to scrunch up your face in disgust. "Maribella, this is gross. I'm not going to tell you how your dad fucks in bed."

"No fair." she whines. "I tell you about all the guys I've slept with."

You raise your eyebrow, to be fair she had a point.

"Let's just pretend my dad isn't my dad or Mr. Cameron; he's just Rafe, some stupid boy you fucked; now tell me everything."

Rafe was just some stupid guy you had fucked, but he wasn't a boy; he was all man--which is what had you enamored by him--it was either that or he was the first guy actually to tend to the needs of being wanted that had you so enamored by him.

Unlike other guys you had been with, Rafe was attentive and considerate, making sure to meet your needs and desires. That's what made him stand out and had you so enamored.

This is why you kept coming back.

It was the night of Maribella's 21st birthday party. In your retellings of the story, you failed to mention how Rafe had kept staring at you that night. Every time you encountered each other, his eyes would first wander to your lips and then linger on your breast--which was practically spilling out the top of your corset. And each time you labeled him "Mr. Cameron," he would insist on you calling him "Rafe" because you were no longer a child.

And it was liberating that Rafe did not see you as a child anymore, now seeing you for who you are: an adult woman.

You also failed to mention when you spotted Rafe and his then-date, some black-haired women equally his age, arguing on the upstairs deck of Tanny Hill.

You didn't tell Maribella that you overheard Rafe's date yell at him: "Don't call me the next time you're horny, call Mrs. Young Pussy instead." Before storming out.

You kept in how Rafe had called you Beautiful that night, you didn't keep in how much that made you blush, after Maribella had said "Gross."

You exaggerated how much you had drunk that night to make it seem like a blackout drunk story—was it 10 shots? 20? You've forgotten, you told Maribella.

You told Maribella how after you and Rafe carried a shit-fazed Maribella to her bedroom, Rafe told her you didn't have to go home as the rest of the guests did; you could stay.

"You're always welcomed to stay" His exact words.

You also left out that moment in which you and Rafe shared in the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine, in which you confronted him about his date leaving mad, and in his exact words:

"Women my age are just so uptight."

And though you hadn't quite understood what he meant, you nodded anyway.

He then says: "I'm sure you can understand that, but in reverse, with men your age."

"Men my age are stupid and don't know what they want." you responded.

"That's a shame." Rafe had told you. "Because I know what I want."

And you knew it wasn't the weed you smoked earlier or the few sips of red wine you were having that altered your perception to make you think Rafe was getting closer to you; Rafe was getting closer to you.

By the end of the conversation, Rafe was no longer on the opposite side of the kitchen island; he was now standing beside you, the skin of his elbow touching yours.

Your breathing had become uneven as Rafe's gaze remained steadfastly locked with yours, but you deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, for this was your best friend's father.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to think of a way to break the silence. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look into the intense blue of Rafe's eyes.

You didn't tell Maribella when you told Rafe that you weren't uptight, which was a quip to his response about knowing what he wants. And then he kissed you.

The kiss took both of you by surprise, but it was undeniable that there was a spark between you. As your lips met, time seemed to stand still, and in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"And then we had sex." you concluded to Maribella.

Sex would be an understatement, you fucked.

Rafe had placed pecks on every inch of your body as he carried you into his bedroom, a room that was always off-limits when you and Maribella used to play with each other growing up.

You were too enamored by Rafe's bergamot scent and how he kept calling you beautiful with each peck to your flesh to examine his room and hypothesize why this room of all rooms was once off limits.

You were too overwhelmed when you felt his large muscular hands tear your clothes off your body to notice the picture of Maribella sitting on Rafe's bed side table.

You were too overcome with lust and craving when Rafe requested that you retrieve a condom from his nightstand, where you intentionally dislodged the photograph of Maribella.

Out of sight out of mine.

As Rafe carefully rolled the condom down his reddening shaft, you feigned an air of eager anticipation, so much so that you almost missed when Rafe remarked:

"You have no idea how long I've been longing for this moment."

Right then, without a warning, Rafe plunged himself deep inside of you like no man has ever done before.

Your eyes widened, and your mouth formed the shape of an 'o' as you felt his thick cock split your cunt open, kiss your cervix, and sheath deep inside your belly.

You counted the number of times Rafe said your pussy was tight; it was a number of 10.

At this point, Maribella no longer sat at her vanity and was now sitting beside you on her bed.

"Oh, lame." She says. "So it was just a drunken mistake, a one-night stand kind of thing?"

You hummed. This reminds you that you should cut things off with Rafe since Maribella knows now.

Right then in the moment Maribella's phone dings.

"The boys are here." She says. "You ready?"

And as you and Maribella walked down the spiral staircase of Tanny Hill, your friend told you:

"Now that I think of it, I'm not that pissed that you slept with my dad; as I said, I get it: he's rich, and he's good-looking for his age; what other qualities do you need in a man?"

In which you hummed again.

"Now if this was a recurring thing, that's a whole other story--Oh! hi Daddy."

As you and Maribelle descended to the base of the stairs, you were greeted by Rafe.

Rafe looked at you first before greeting his daughter.

You made an effort to maintain eye contact with him, despite his patronizing gaze, resisting the temptation to steal glances at him in his form-fitting shirt that accentuated his muscular physique.

You focused on maintaining a calm and composed demeanor, refusing to let his condescension affect you. Instead, you redirected your attention to the conversation at hand.

"Where are you girls headed?" He asks, addressing no one in particular.

"We're going out," Maribella says, sensing the tension and tugging your wrist towards the door.

"Don't wait up for me; we'll be out all night," Maribella said, Rafe's eyes never leaving yours as you and Maribella exited the door.

The boys you'd met earlier—Steven and Conrad, you think their names were—were parked outside Tanny Hill, blasting some obnoxious music from their car speakers.

"Oh wait, I think I forgot something," you tell Maribella as you approach the car.

You don't wait for Maribella's approval before jogging back inside her house, where her father awaited you behind the front door with a sly smirk on his lips.

"I knew you couldn't resist telling me a goodbye," he remarked, just as the two of you leaned in for a messy, passionate kiss.

Knowing you were pressed for time, you were the one to break the kiss.

'Same time again tomorrow night?' he asks, his voice filled with a mix of hope and desire as he wipes away the remnants of your shared moment.

"Same time." you reassured.

#fem reader #crookedteethed #rafe cameron smut #fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #best friends dad #best friend dad Rafe! x reader #dark! rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #the outer banks #the obx #dilf rafe cameron x reader #dad!rafe #dad!rafe Cameron x reader

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frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months ago

Text

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt.

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same.

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.”

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else.

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body.

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes.

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it.

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?”

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time.

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear.

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be.

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is.

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage.

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.”

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.”

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass.

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt.

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular.

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.”

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will.

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow.

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them.

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?”

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear.

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation.

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open.

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone.

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you.

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does.

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his.

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit.

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived.

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out.

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back.

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body.

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it.

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise.

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze.

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?”

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez x female reader #choi san x you #choi san smut #choi san angst #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #chubby reader #plus size reader #ateez x chubby reader

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shaisuki · 8 months ago

Note

bllk boys react to fem!reader kissing them, then running away. (Mainly I want itoshi rin reaction)

Ty!

❝ CHU! ❞

FEATURING. BLUE LOCK BOYS

CONTENT WARNINGS. suggestive themes

SYNOPSIS. kiss them and run away. hope you're fast enough to outrun them.

ISAGI is frozen upon the initial contact of your lips to his own. blush dusting in his cheeks at the sudden gesture and when gets out of his stupor he's quick to pull your hand. catching and linking it to his own before pulling you to kiss you back.

BACHIRA shuts up for second before grinning at the sudden initiation of affection coming from you. cheeky bastard. pretending to be dumbfounded and only to return the kiss thrice the passion as you did it.

KUNIGAMI is surprised. he likes it and so before you can turn around to run, your soft back is pressed against his muscular chest. planting a kiss in your nape before murmuring an i love you in your skin and burying his face in your neck.

CHIGIRI watched as your giggles dying down as you run away from him. a smile in his lips at the move you pulled in him. the taste of your lips lingering in his and he's thinking about ways he could get his revenge on you.

GAGAMARU only blinks in robotic. like a artificial intelligence processing the information that they are given and when he realizes what you just did, a ghost of smile is painted in his face. nonchalantly acting like nothing happened but deep inside it warmed him.

BAROU takes on it seriously. how dare you kiss him out of the blue. it almost breaks out his usual composure and when you're poised to run away from him, he didn't gave you a chance to run. keeping you in a tight grip. scowling at you and grabbing your soft jaws in his palm. although his energy eludes being annoyed, it contradicts on what he did to you. pulling you in a bruising kiss and scolding you in a manner that if you pulled a stunt like that again, you would be getting more than a kiss from him.

RIN falters a bit at the sudden smooch and then you running away. long he welcomed the affection and you running away from him confuses him a bit and so he follows you and returns the favor by doing the same after ensuring that everything was okay and finding that it was your only way to just caught him off guard.

SAE sees it coming and only moves his head to angle where you will be kissing him. you were surprised than he is and kisses you twice the passion and breaks the kiss softly just to admire your flustered expression or rather the satisfaction he was feeling that he had beaten you in your own game.

SHIDOU breaks out into a large grin after the kiss you did and he's sprinting to your direction where you ran off and freaky he is, you didn't just get a kiss from him. saying that you need to take it. his payback for riling him up.

NAGI only let a soft hum when you kissed him out of the blue. leaving him blinking in confusion and shrugs at what just happened. cold mf.

REO smiles. a smile that a prince does. charming and can attract a swarm of women in the area but it's from the kiss his princess did to him and he's following you and spinning you in a manner that leaves you breathless. your back pressed against his chest while bestowing a chaste kiss to your round cheeks.

NIKO blushes. it's not visible as he stand there from the gesture. a shy little schoolboy is what you've turned him and only if you knew what he was feeling. falling in love with you deeper like the main character in a shoujo manga.

OLIVER wolfishly grins. licking his lips and he's like a predator prepared to pounce at their prey and he sees a chubby bunny hopping away and the chase begins. he caught you and he simply devours you.

KAISER just chuckles at your attempt in surprising him. he's not surprised like almost men at his age but he appreciates it a bit. your antics no stranger to him and he finds it amusing.

NESS stutters a bit of what just happened. shock and leaning on the side of surprised and like magic you never failed to make him happy.

NOEL is calm and unblinking yet a little taken aback of your sudden departure. weren't you supposed to tell him you love him like you always do. maybe it's different than this time. it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it.

EGO's unfazed about it. he knows you and you always pull your stupid shenanigans on him and who is he to judge for that. you're his wife and it won't hurt to be kissed out of blue even he knows it.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x you #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #mikage reo #mikage reo x reader #blue lock barou #barou shoei #blue lock x chubby reader #blue lock x you #blue lock scenarios

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deadghosy · 11 months ago

Text

THANKS TO @lazyemmy FOR THIS LOVELY IDEA OF THE PENGUIN! READER💗🦆

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: during one extermination an angel had kidnapped you and took you to heaven based off a common mistake

“Quack?” You were literally trying to water the hotel’s flowers when you forgot about extermination….the leader of the exterminators had grabbed you by your sailor outfit Velvette made you.

“Shut your mouth short stuff.” You heard a man’s voice to see a person wearing a horned mask and a golden robe. You panicked as Charlie had told you about a man like this as Adam scoffs seeing your panicked state.

“JEEZ CHILL OUT YOU FUCKIN' BIRD BRAIN!” Adam yells as he enters in the portal of heaven with the exterminators behind him. He plops you down on the clouded floors to see the heavenly gates Charlie tells you in stories

As you waddled you seen a male who seemed to be waiting for you. “Ah! Reader..so glad to have you. It seems as if heaven had made a mistake and sent you to hell.” St. Peter said as he picks you up having the gates open. Your eyes widen at the bright light of heaven as angels walk and smile. “Welcome to your true home [reader]”

The air smelt so clean and not bloody as it seemed so peaceful and holy. After St. Peter getting your room and home ready to stay in heaven. You start to feel a little “home” sick as you hope the hotel crew was doing well and aren’t going crazy.

Which they totally are as Charlie is panicking calling her father.

After a few days , Adam will visit you a lot saying how he got forced to look after you…(he wasn’t forced he just liked how cute and pure you are but he’ll never admit it) Adam makes dumb ass jokes about how all those sinners down there should die and perish as he pats you on your little head. You quacked trying to show some worry for your friends down there.

“Oh them? Hah! They’re probably running like headless chickens looking for your ass.” Adam says with his usual grin as he pops some popcorn in his mouth. “Want some?” He says as he waves a piece of popcorn in your face. you sniffed it and ate it from his hand as adam's eyes widen at your cuteness…

you're like a little baby..💗😭😭😭

Adam grabs your chubby cold cheeks as he faces you towards him. “Never leave here. Okay?” He says seriously low with a protective tone as you quack nodding nervously at how quick this dude got attached to you.

Adam pushes your face away from him smirking. “Good now let’s watch this video I saw off of this human app called ‘TikTok’”

Lute didn’t know how to approach you, but she sends you small gifts that reminds her of you as you just open them like “quack?” And a head tilt confused but take it in anyways.

I imagine lute literally being your bodyguard when you don’t have any work to do as she just pushes anyone who gets to close to you away. LIKE IT COULD BE AN OLD LADY AND SHE WOULD BE LIKE “BITCH MOVE!”😭

After the 3rd day of the 1 week of being in heaven, lute definitely got overprotective of you. Always keeping tabs on where you go and which house you deliver mail to. I mean who knows what would happen to a cute soul like you? (A/n: Omg this sounds like a yandere…)

The angels love how adorable you are as they pet you. Immediately you are popular just like how you are popular in hell. Sera has given you a job as a mail boy again as you smile.

I can see St.Peter visit you when he isn’t on duty or just when someone takes his spot so he can say hi and hang out with you.

You wear a cute little yellow and white mail delivery fit thanks to sera who got a designer to get you to fit it perfectly.

You love how you still got your delivery job as you leave a cookie on the front porches of the angels. It’s like your significant signature to others to have a good day.

Adam and lute were arguing one time in front of you and you sniffled not liking the loud noises and immediately, and surprisingly. Adam and Lute pretended everything was okay to make you happy as Adam picked you up and took you away to get your favorite snack for you.

Sera checks on you as well with Emily by her side as Emily just finds you so cute and is excited to get to hang out with you more.

Emily immediately hugs and kisses your head amused by your small and kind soul she sees in you.

Sera would like to take you on stroll on week 2. She’d like to show you around heaven with Emily as she hold you in her arms gushing chow cute you are.

NOW I CAN IMAGINE YOU AND EMILY GOING ON A SHOPPING SPREE TO EXPLORE NEW CLOTHING AESTHETIC ✨💗

You showed yourself to be an angel by spirit as you helped a kid get a new lollipop, which makes sera smile at you being helpful as he is glad to hav with here in heaven and not they “ratchet” place.

You do miss hell as it had your friends who you got use to….you hoped they were still doing okay down there.

MEANWHILE IN HELL: “OMG OMG I CANT BELIEVE THEY GOT KIDNAPPED…IM A BAD FRIENDDD” “HON DONT WORRY, YOUR DAD CAN FIND A WAY TO GET THEM..” “it’s okay fat nuggets, they’ll come back…” *sad oink* and everyone else is having their own panic moment in their own way.

MEANWHILE BACK IN HEAVEN: “quack.” You said looking up at adam who holds your hand. “Huh? Jeeezzz bird brain..stop worrying about those loser down there…they’re fine without you.” Adam says smirking knowing damn well they aren’t .

Emily holds your hand as you waddle quacking at the ice creams around here. They taste so much better as your eyes sparkle at this sweet flavored treat. Emily squeals as her eyes got big and took a pic of your happy face. Sera most definitely got the picture on her heaven phone as her face soften seeing the new angel in heaven enjoying their self.

I imagine Adam is the one to be the one who claims to be the closest to you. But really he just brags about himself to you about how much sinners he kills.

I headcannon for your wings to be little cute fairy looking wings or pure white ones as you just fly.

You definitely have cherubim in heaven which makes the angels find you more adorable as the delivery boy.

You had made an account literally one day, and instantly you got 2 million followers which made you shock as Adam just munches on snacks while you quack panicked at how quick you became famous here.

I headcannon St. Peter to send you cookies with those cute little penguin designs on it. It looks like Christmas cookies but they are so cute and tasty

Say for example you fell and you couldn’t get up as you’re so rounded 😭 LITERALLY ALL YOU CAN DO IS ROLL AND SQEUAK AND QUACK�� Adam is laughing as he takes a picture and video for himself before helping you up.

I can imagine Adam and Sera having a schedule out to plan who gets it hang out with you on weeks and days 😭

You liked the herbal tea they had as you waddle around with Adam having a kid leash on you as he just looked bored.

At the end of the week, you were sleeping wearing a whole ass cute gown Adam bought you as he literally dropped it on you with a flustered face seeing your cute smile.

As you slept…Lucifer snuck into heaven and snatched you up leaving a “fuck you” letter to Adam. Don’t even question how he got into heaven. Just be glad he took you.

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plethorawrites · 8 days ago

Text

I know a lot of people HC that Damian Wayne would be a terrible dad because of how he was raised and his own trauma keeps him emotionally detached, but imagine if his upbringing did the exact opposite? (1.2k)

He'd be terrified the moment he finds out his wife is pregnant, utterly unable to comprehend it. He wants to be excited, like everyone else in his family is about it, but can't bring himself to get over the fear. He's worried he won't love it or feel attached to it like she already is. Hell, he keeps calling it and IT.

That fear only grows and grows, getting infinitely worse as she's closer to having the baby. He doesn't feel worthy of being a parent, he's got too much blood on his hands to know how to be gentle or caring, especially not to someone as small as a baby. His wife alone had to break through a dozen of his walls before he fully trusted her enough to be vulnerable with her. But then, the baby is born. He's a dad. His wife is alright, which is his first concern, the next being making sure the baby is too.

She is.

She's a she.

He has a little girl and it's like time stops, staring at her little face, her dark skin, her full head of hair, her chubby cheeks. That fear in his chest both grows and disappears all at once. He knows then and there that his worries about not loving her were absolutely ridiculous. He's never let the world hurt her. But the apprehension about being good enough still persists.

He refuses to hold her, claiming his wife should be the first since she did all the work. Which she did. Then, he still refuses. He doesn't want to cradle her when he keeps thinking of all the blood his hands have spilled. His wife can tell and deep down it worries her too, but she doesn't say anything because she knew it would take a while for him to get used to being a dad. His family comes to see the baby a few days after they leave the hospital, they all hold her, but Damian keeps his arms crossed.

He's still terrified from afar that one of his brothers will drop her, though.

One night, after she got to bed, he hears her crying. His wife is exhausted, rightfully so, so he gets up. She's eaten recently so he has no idea why the baby is crying, just that she is. He shushes her while she lays in her crib but she's a few weeks old, so of course she has no idea what that means.

Finally, he reaches down, scooping her up into his arms, just to try to keep her quiet so his wife can sleep. "Shh. Please let your mother sleep," he whispers, his eyes softening as she immediately stops crying.

He puts her back down, the anxiety having already flooded him just by having her in his arms, but the second she's back in her crib, she's crying again. He's forced to pick her back up and the crying turns to soft cooing, staring up at him with wide eyes. He sighs, sitting in the chair his wife likes to rock her to sleep in, holding her close in her blanket. Which wasn't really a blanket at all, just his old cape that she had somehow taken to finding comfort in.

She reaches out, with that iron vice of a grip all babies seem to have, grabbing his finger with her hand. "Such a strong grip for such a small person," he whispers to himself or perhaps to her. "I love you, you know? More than anything. I just...feel like you deserve a better father than me."

She's still staring, silently, with absolutely no recognition of his words and his grips around her tightens as he leans his head back in the chair, falling asleep until morning when his wife finds him in the nursery with her still in his arms. He won't pretend he didn't feel a little bit of comfort holding her. But it was still frightening to him. Even if his wife assured him every other day that he was doing fine and she knew he could be a good dad.

He takes to being the one to soothe her at night so his wife can sleep, both because he's used to staying up at night for work and because he's somehow a lot better at getting her to calm down. He begins calling her 'beautiful' or 'darling' in Arabic, which always elicits a small smile. And he knows without a single doubt that he'd never let the darkness he's seen touch her.

The older she grows the better he gets at it. She's less fragile, he's more confident that he does deserve her. He can raise her better than he was raised. And he does. He can recognize each of her cries, knows what she needs, sometimes before she does. He presses a kiss to her head every night before she goes to bed and even when she starts sleeping through the night he'll still sit in her nursery for a while because he knows he'll never see her this small again.

She turns one and his whole family is there, spoiling her with extravagant gifts, even though he knows her favorite thing in the whole world is the blanket she sleeps with, made from his old cape. She's old to stand and starts babbling, not quite forming words, but it's enough that he knows what she wants when she points in a vague direction and starts getting frustrated about wanting something. He sits on the floor, holding her little hands while she stands, learning to take her first steps and his wife grimaces, worried the baby will fall.

She does.

Damian catches her.

She giggles and he can't help but grin with pride. "That's my girl. Already learning to walk a few months early." She's smart, he knows it. He doesn't boast to anyone aside from his wife or family about it, but secretly judges all the other kids in the group his wife takes her too. They weren't quite as advanced as his daughter.

After all, she responds to some words in Arabic. Her nicknames, mostly. Although she'll turn her head when he says 'look' or tells her 'good job' for finishing her mashed veggies. How many other babies did they know who were bilingual before two? Not many.

After fourteen months or so, her eyes change from blue to green and he finds himself even more transfixed with her wide eyes that track everything he does when he wakes up before his wife to make them all breakfast. He scolds her lightly when she throws the teething ring she loves at him, telling her "That's rude." Before handing it back to her and making her some steamed vegetables, since he always refused to give her store bought baby food.

It wasn't good enough for his child.

Around the time her babbling turns to poorly formed words, she starts calling him Babba and realizing how it makes him smile utters it over and over when she wants to be picked up.

She goes: "Babbababbababba." Like it's all one very long ramble until he lifts her out of her high chair and lets her rest on his hip asking her what she wants. "Stuffed animal?" He questions, pointing at her collection of them. She just repeats. "Babba." again, laying her head against him.

He realizes she just wants to be held and he gladly holds her for as long as she wants.

#headcanon #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #aged up of course #older damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x you #plethorawrites

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hcneymooners · 27 days ago

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⋆ angel of mine; i’m probably gonna think about you all the time.

biker!sevika x stripper!chubby!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: when you get news of your grandmother’s declining health, you pack what’s left of your life in miami and begin to head home. on the way you meet enigmatic stranger sevika, who gives you a ride.

wc: 10k

cw: age difference! stripper!reader, chubby!reader, fem!reader, mommy issues, implied melvika, implied melvika x reader, strangers to lovers, roadtrips, biker!sevika, resolved sexual tension, codependency, found family, dysfunctional families, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, exhibition kink (implied), degradation, name-calling, dom/sub, dom!sevika, sub!reader, hyperfemme!reader, lowkey sugar mommy!sevika.

notes: you can definitely tell i’m southern in this piece. i love the south despite it not loving me (black, sapphic, & female) back. so much of florida contains my family and love though i left it. i hope that comes through. i’m really proud of this and i hope you enjoy. so sorry for any typos i may have missed. let me know what you think & if you want a full melvika x reader pt. ii ! i love you. 𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖°

playlist: lana born to die: paradise album. listen here.

The white teeth of Miami were always going to eat you alive.

That’s what your grandmother used to say, her voice crackling over the phone, sweet but certain, the way only old women could be. She didn’t say it to scare you—just to remind you that the city, for all its glitter and heat, had sharp edges. She was a lioness, and you were good meat.

You’d felt it too, walking barefoot along the highway, heels swinging in one hand and your purse in the other. The sunset was dying behind you, streaks of cotton candy pink, baby blue, and tangerine smeared across the horizon like someone had finger-painted the sky in haste.

Your cheeks still sparkled faintly under the fading light, remnants of glitter you hadn’t scrubbed off from work. It clung stubbornly, refusing to let go. You’d braided the front of your hair into two plaits that went straight back, falling apart in the middle to join the rest of the mass—wavy and tinsel-streaked. It was your “mermaid hair” as your younger sister loved to call it. You blinked heavily, your 60s-style lashes dragging their soft bodies across your plush cheeks.

The ache in your feet was grounding though, pulling you out of the haze of the club—the strobe lights, the bass that rattled in your ribs, the haze of too many eyes on you.

You’d gotten through the night, but just barely. Grandma’s sick. That had been the thought looping in your head as you swayed under the lights, pretending to be something more desirable than tired. Your mother had called, her voice small and broken. She wouldn’t tell you where she was. I’ll be home tomorrow, you’d promised anyway and then you climbed back on the stage.

You’d scraped together what you could tonight, but not enough for both a cab and the medicine your grandmother needed. The last bus out of town was fucked, something about a technical failure. So, you walked, the stretch of highway endless, the heat still radiating off the asphalt like it was sinking into hell.

You were so distracted by both your raging anxiety and oncoming hunger that the headlights caught you off guard. A single beam at first, low and flickering, until the growl of the engine grew louder, sharper, swallowing the silence. You turned instinctively, lifting a hand to wave—desperation bleeding through the gesture.

The motorcycle slowed. It wasn’t just a machine; it was an extension of her.

Its rider was tall and broad-shouldered, her presence filling the space before she even spoke. A thick, short braid of dark hair hung over her shoulder, catching the light like polished onyx, and her face was all hard angles—sharp jaw, strong brow, a faint scar cutting through her upper lip. She leaned forward slightly, resting her weight on a prosthetic arm that gleamed silver in the twilight. Her eyes, cold at first glance, raked over you, measuring.

For the millionth time that night, you became painfully aware of your appearance. You hadn’t had much time to change before rushing out, so you were stuck in a turquoise spaghetti-strap tank that clung uncomfortably to your skin and a pair of low-rise grey sweatpants, the faded mall-brand logo on the hip barely holding on.

Your purse—a tiny baby pink crossbody clutch—was stretched to its limit, struggling to close over your overstuffed Polo Assn. wallet, its dark brown leather warped by thick stacks of crumpled bills and nearly maxed-out credit cards.

A single white earbud perched in your left ear, the mile-long wire snaking under the loose neckline of your tank and into your hands, where your phone gleamed faintly in the glare of her headlights. Glittery gold, covered in 3D bubble stickers of pale pink and cream roses—your little sister’s handiwork.

Between the heat of the phone and the plastic of the case, you’d tucked a Polaroid: you, your sister, and your aunt, all dolled up in perfect makeup and hoop earrings, the three of you grinning wide enough to make the moment feel permanent. Behind the photo, folded neatly, was a note.

The faintest whiff of smoke clung to you, softened by bellini, cherry, and peach. You’d tried hard to be sweet, always sweet, but it wasn’t enough to cover the night’s work. Especially not tonight.

“You lost?” she asked, her voice gravelly, low, like the rumble of her engine hadn’t entirely faded.

“Not lost,” you said, voice softer than you intended. “Just… trying to get home.”

You were always trying to go home.

She raised a brow, glancing at your bare feet and the glitter still dusting your face. “Long walk.”

You shrugged, exhaustion pulling at the edges of your face.

“No choice.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, her expression unreadable, before she nodded toward the seat behind her.

“Hop on. I’ll get you there.”

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the gleam of her prosthetic, the way it contrasted with the calloused hand gripping the throttle.

“What’s your name?” you asked, finally, your voice quieter now.

She huffed faintly, tilting her head. “Sevika. And you?”

You gave her your name, your voice carrying the weight of gratitude but a lack of trust. You weighed your options—you had none—and decided that you could only hope she wasn’t insane.

You thought of the note in your phone case.

“Lord, I confess i want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe. Like everyone else, I want a storm I can dance in. I want an excuse to change my life. Lord if I say bless the cold water you throw on my face, does that make me a costume party. Am I greedy for comfort if I ask you not to kill my friends if I beg you to press your heel against my throat - not enough to ruin me, but just so I can almost see your face.” (x.)

Then, without another word, you climbed onto the bike, your fingers brushing against her shoulders as you steadied yourself.

The engine roared, and the wind hit your face, carrying you forward into the night. You bent your neck, tucked your head into her back, and began to pray.

❀

You woke to a soft hand on your skin.

“Hey. You up?”

The words were quiet, almost careful, but they pulled you from the thin edge of sleep. For a moment, you were disoriented. The ceiling above you was unfamiliar, white with faint water stains bleeding outward like bruises. The couch beneath you creaked as you shifted, and smelled of saltwater and lavender. There was a thin blanket draped over your shoulders but it felt impossibly heavy, anchoring you in place.

Sevika was leaning over you, her face shadowed but sharp in the dim light spilling from another room. Her hand lingered on your hip, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Come on,” she said, her voice low and gravelly, rasping against the quiet. “Mel wants to meet you.”

“Mel?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

“She lives here. She’s… persistent,” Sevika said with a dry edge, stepping back to give you room to sit up. “And she’s got a thing for taking care of strays. Don’t worry, she’s nice. Nicer than me, anyway.”

The apartment was small, but the stomach of it was softened by a clear effort to make it feel like home.

The walls were painted a pale cream, though the paint was peeling in the corners, and the floors were scuffed wood. The furniture was mismatched, but there was a warmth to it—a knitted throw slung over the back of the couch, a row of half-burned candles on the coffee table, the faint scent of coconut and vanilla lingering in the air.

The windows were open, letting in the salt-thick breeze of the early morning, and a line of photos pinned to the wall swayed slightly, the string barely holding on.

Mel appeared in the doorway to what must have been the bathroom, her figure backlit by the soft, yellow glow. She was taller than you’d expected, her frame lithe but strong, and her black braids pooled over her shoulders like an oil spill, gleaming in the dim light. She held a cherry red hairbrush in one hand and a small bottle of lotion in the other, her brown skin catching the light beautifully.

“You’re awake,” she said, her voice rich but cautious. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, warm but searching.

Most people tended to treat you this way. It was as if you were a scared animal and they were trying to coax you in.

You nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“Yeah. Sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude here.”

“You didn’t,” Mel said quickly, stepping closer. Her tone softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Sev doesn’t bring people home unless she has a reason. You must’ve needed it.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Your gaze flicked to Sevika, who leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her broad chest, her prosthetic glinting faintly in the soft light. She was watching the two of you, her expression unreadable.

“I’ve seen you before,” Mel said suddenly, drawing your attention back to her. Her smile turned wistful. “At The Siren, right?”

The mention of the club sent a ripple of recognition through you. You nodded slowly, and Mel’s expression shifted, her eyes softening further.

“I thought so,” she murmured. “You helped me once, in the bathroom. I was… having a bad night. You were so sweet.”

The moment came back in pieces. Her face streaked with tears, her voice trembling as she spoke about her mother, about leaving home. You’d handed her a tissue, touched her shoulder lightly, said something comforting.

“I remember,” you said softly, your voice catching in your throat.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mel said, her gaze steady. “But I’m glad you did.”

She knelt in front of you, holding up the brush. “Let me help you. You’ve had a long night.”

You hesitated, but something in her expression, in the calm warmth of her voice, made you nod. She guided you to the bathroom, which was small and tidy, the mirror rimmed with salt stains and seashells.

As she brushed your hair, her touch was careful, her fingers grazing your scalp like she was afraid of breaking something fragile.

“You’ve got beautiful hair,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice faint. “You smell nice.”

Her laugh was quiet, and you felt the warmth of it root deep in your chest.

“Coconut oil,” she said, but there was a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Mixed with vanilla. I like to smell dewey and sugary. Kind of like you.”

You smiled tiredly at her in the mirror, lifting a hand to pat at her wrist. The tender powder pink of your acrylics were bright against it. Behind you, Sevika leaned in the doorway, her presence as steady as a shadow.

“You’re making her shy, Melly,” she teased, her voice like gravel underfoot.

Mel glanced at her, rolling her eyes, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips. As a final touch she added a large bow clip to your tamed strands; it was lilac and worn at the ends.

When you were cleaned up, you reached for your purse, pulling out a crumpled bill.

“Here. Let me—,” you began, holding it out.

Mel’s expression shifted, her smile fading into something more serious as she cut you off. She pushed your hand back gently.

“Honey, you don’t owe me anything.”

The sincerity in her voice caught you off guard, and you tucked the money away, unsure of what to say.

Sevika cleared her throat. “Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Tampa,” you said.

She raised a brow, her smirk returning.

“Figures. You seem like a Tampa girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Sevika just shrugged, her mouth twitching.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

The three of you stepped into the early morning light, the ocean-heavy breeze brushing against your skin. You didn’t even know you could live this close to the ocean in Miami.

You turned back and caught Sevika and Mel in silent conversation. There was something unspoken between them, between you, something you couldn’t quite name. For now, though, you let it rest.

Grandma’s sick, you reminded yourself. You had to keep going.

❀

The rest of the day swelled with humidity, the horizon bruised with the threat of rain. The Cadillac’s engine purred low, its growl humming beneath the croon of soft rock spilling through the speakers.

You kept your eyes on the window, the world outside blurring as heat shimmered off the asphalt and smeared the palms into a haze.

Sevika hadn’t said much since you got in her car. She didn’t need to.

There was a quiet kind of ease in her presence, a stillness that somehow made the grief gnawing at your chest feel less unbearable. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window frame, her fingers idly toying with a cigarette she hadn’t yet lit.

The smell of the car had settled around you—leather, faint smoke, and something warm you couldn’t name. It was the kind of smell that made you think of safety, though you didn’t know why.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, the screen lighting up with a message from your mother.

Sorry, baby doll. Grandma’s on the brink.

You read the words twice, three times, and still they didn’t make sense. Your fingers tightened around the phone, your nails pressing into its glittery gold case, and something sharp and hot clawed its way up your throat.

Sevika glanced over, her brow furrowing.

“You good?”

You nodded quickly, your lips pressing together to hold back the tears that were already welling. But it was no use. They spilled over, fat and hot, streaking black mascara down your apple-round cheeks.

You turned your head, pretending to watch the passing trees, but your reflection in the window gave you away.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered, low and rough. She took one last drag from her cigarette, then flicked it out the window. “Hold on.”

She pulled off the highway, her movements smooth and deliberate, and guided the car into the gravel lot of a diner. Its neon sign flickered faintly against the gray sky, Chuck’s written in soft pink cursive. The building was small and sweet, painted robin’s egg blue with white shutters and lace curtains framing its windows.

Sevika parked and cut the engine, turning to look at you.

“Come here.”

Her voice was softer now, but it still carried that unshakable steadiness. You hesitated, your hands trembling in your lap, but the look on her face left no room for doubt. You leaned toward her, and her arms came around you, solid and warm, pulling you into her chest.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her hand smoothing over your hair. “Come on, angel. Just let it out.”

And you did. The sobs came in waves, ripping through you until you were shaking, your fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t flinch, didn’t tell you to stop. She just held you, her hand a steady weight against the back of your head, her thumb brushing small, grounding circles into your shoulder.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged you like this.

When you finally pulled back, your face was hot, damp, and streaked; your mascara smudged into shadows beneath your eyes. Sevika reached out, her thumb catching the tracks on your cheeks.

“Messy,” she said softly, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

The diner’s door chimed as you stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and bread washing over you. The interior was impossibly charming, with its pastel booths, checkerboard floors, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. You slid into a booth by the window, the vinyl cool against the back of your legs.

Sevika sat across from you, her body filling the small space like a storm cloud, heavy and unshakable. You stared out the window, watching the rain slip down the glass in delicate rivulets. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled, low and faint.

“You’re strong, you know that?” Sevika’s voice broke through the quiet.

You turned to her, startled. Her eyes were dark, but they were the softest you’d seen them so far, almost tender.

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing your chin. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt through you, her thumb catching against your skin.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, her voice low and certain. “You’ll be fine. You have to be.”

Outside, the rain fell harder, the sound of it filling the silence between you. And then Sevika let go, her hand retreating back across the table.

The rain continued to blur the diner’s windows, the soft pink neon outside flickering faintly against the new gloom. You stared down at your coffee, the chipped porcelain mug warm in your hands, but it wasn’t enough to steady the tremor that had worked its way into your fingers. The realities of the world felt too sharp, too close, like you might unravel right there in your plain sight.

“Talk to me,” you said suddenly, your voice thin and unsteady. “I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack.”

Sevika’s eyes lifted from her coffee, dark and knowing. Her expression didn’t shift, but something gave in the set of her jaw. She leaned back, one arm slung over the booth’s edge, her other hand absently brushing the lip of her mug.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything.” You exhaled shakily, your gaze flicking out to the rain before returning to her. “Tell me why you drive a beat-up Cadillac.”

That pulled a small, low chuckle from her, quiet but rich. She tipped her head, the motion slow and deliberate, and for a moment, you felt less like you were shuddering into beautiful pieces.

“You think she’s beat-up?” Sevika asked, her lips curving faintly.

“She’s held together by rust and prayer,” you said, almost smiling. “I’m just saying.”

Sevika’s laugh came fuller this time, a sound that filled the air without disrupting the other patrons.

“Hey. She’s got character. My dad gave her to me when I was nineteen. She used to be pristine—white leather, a real beauty. But time does what it does.”

You blinked, caught on the number.

“Nineteen?” you asked, hesitant. “How long ago was that?”

Her smirk grew, slow and sharp. “Longer than you’d guess, angel.”

Your brows furrowed, curiosity blooming against the weight in your chest. “How old are you?”

Sevika’s gaze lingered, the kind of look that made you feel seen in a way that was both unnerving and magnetic.

“Old enough to remember when you had to rewind your mixtapes with a pencil,” she said, her voice dry, teasing.

You couldn’t help it—a small laugh slipped out, barely there, but it felt good.

“I’ve always had a thing for older women,” you said absently, the words slipping out before you realized what you’d said.

Her smirk deepened, her eyes sharpening in a way that made your stomach flip.

“That so?” she murmured, her voice low and rich, a swatch of velvet dragged through smoke. “You looking for a mommy, angel?”

Heat flooded your face, vicious and unbearable, and you pushed back from the table, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m, um—gonna order something at the counter,” you mumbled, refusing to meet her gaze.

She chuckled, soft and lazy, her voice following you as you turned toward the counter.

“Go on, sweetheart. Take your time.”

The diner felt warmer, brighter, as you made your way to the counter, the fluorescents buzzing faintly above. You kept your eyes on the menu board, your pulse still thrumming in your ears.

❀

It’s four more hours to Tampa, but it’s the most excruciating period of your life.

You’d left the diner a little steadier, Sevika’s arm brushing yours as you climbed back into her car. The Cadillac rattled like death, its leather seats sticky against your thighs.

You leaned your temple against the window, watching as the flat Florida landscape blurred into soft greens and yellows. The air outside was still thick with heat, even with the sun reducing its intensity as it slunk away.

The highway stretched out like an open wound, raw and endless. You fiddled with the radio dial until a bouncy indie pop song filtered back through the speakers, filling the air with a thousand wailing guitars. Sevika didn’t complain, her focus locked on the road ahead.

At some point, she pulled off into a gravel lot in front of a boutique. The building was small and unassuming, its pink paint faded by time. A hand-painted sign swung lazily in the humid breeze.

“We’re stopping?” you asked, your voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“You need other clothes,” Sevika said simply, stepping out of the car. “Come on.”

The shop smelled faintly of coconut wax and dust, its racks crammed with mismatched pieces that managed to appear more curated than random. Sevika leaned against a rack of jeans, her arms crossed, as you wandered through the aisles.

“We’re strangers,” you said eventually, holding up a knit top to your chest. “Why are you taking care of me?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her jaw tightening in thought.

“I remember being twenty-one,” she said finally. “The world was a lot to handle back then. Some days, it still is.”

You lowered the top and gazed at her, mouth dipping in understanding. She was so beautiful here, despite being far from at home in this confectionery store. Her arms flexed gently as she shifted in place, and you resisted the urge to press her hair out of her face.

“I’m sorry that you know what that feels like.”

“You don’t have to pity me,” she said, the response clearly a reflex.

You smiled crookedly and didn’t press further.

The outfit you picked—a striped knit and high-waisted jeans—felt soft against your skin. The knit hugged your curves, the soft plum-colored neckline slipping just low enough to expose the plush swell of your shoulder. When you stepped out of the dressing room, Sevika gave you a once-over, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’re a girl with expensive taste,” she teased. “Is that cashmere?”

“It’s my stage name for a reason,” you shot back, smiling softly. “And everything is overpriced here.”

“You look like a doll,” she said, her tone amused.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past her to the counter.

“I’ve got to look a little more appropriate.”

“For what?” she teased. “Tampa doesn’t care.”

“Well , my Aunt Kenna will.”

Unsurprisingly, you found yourself overpowered by Sevika at the register. She pressed her card down, its body sleek and black with silver lettering. Once again, you were struck by the kindness of strangers and you felt your throat tighten.

She gave you a look, as if to quiet your self-effacing urges. Behind the counter, the clerk smiled to herself as she observed the two of you. She was petite and had a pinched face, her hair short and a creamy blonde. Maddie, her tag read. She reminded you a lot of your mother, possessing the same shifty energy of a runner as she racked up your total.

The drive resumed, and with it, you revealed more of yourself to Sevika. You told her about your grandma, about the way she used to braid your hair with fake frangipani from the craft store and sing to you in the evenings where your mother would be gone. How her hands were always soft, even when they were tired. How you used to tuck yourself under the desk at the hospital where she worked when your heart was crumbled by women you definitely shouldn’t have been involved with at eighteen.

You spoke of your aunt, the way she fought to keep the family together, even when it wasn’t hers to save. You spoke of your little sister who in a way was also your child, how you did most things in life for her sake.

Sevika listened in silence, her hand resting on the wheel, her gaze never straying from the road. There was something in her stillness that made you feel seen, even when the words caught in your throat.

When you finally crossed into Tampa, the sky was dyed indigo and gold, the houses lining the street glowing faintly in the dusk.

You rolled the window down and leaned out, your phone poised to capture the image forever on your cracked back camera. You were such a tall child.

The warm air stroked against the moon of your face, tugged at the ends of your hair and dried your lips. You felt Sevika’s hand slide to your thigh, just below the crease of your ass, heavy and grounding, and you froze. Her palm was rough against the soft give of your flesh, her fingers splayed just enough to keep you steady.

“Don’t fall out,” she muttered, her voice tinged with quiet amusement.

“I won’t,” you said, but you sat back soon after, your heart beating a little too fast.

Sevika’s hand lingered a second longer before retreating to the wheel.

The butter-yellow house came into view, its shutters glowing faintly in the twilight. Your breath hitched. It looked the same as it always had, though the paint was more weathered, the steps chipped at the edges.

Sevika pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. The silence was deafening. You fumbled with your purse, fingers trembling, but before you could open the door, Sevika’s hand found your chin. She turned your face toward hers, her thumb brushing just beneath your jaw.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Always is.”

Her eyes held you in place, dark and unflinching.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you believed her. Before you could think too much of it, you leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek. Over her scar.

“Thank you.”

Her mouth parted, but the screen door creaked open, and you saw your aunt step onto the porch, her arms crossed and one brow raised in quiet judgment. You hesitated, glancing back at Sevika.

“You could come in,�� you offered, the words heavier than they should have been.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to your aunt before landing back on you. She pushed off the seat and got out to follow you, her presence like a shadow at your back.

The porch light hummed faintly as you step inside, and a creamy warmth filled your chest. Your sister cheered when she saw you, and you laughed—your eyesight blurring. For the first time in hours, you felt like you could breathe.

❀

As always, you dived in headfirst and sought out your grandmother’s room.

It was a terrible mistake. You couldn’t handle seeing her like that.

Almost immediately, bile surged up your throat, sharp and acidic, and you bolted—pausing just long enough to set the medicine down on her nightstand with quaking hands. You burst outside, where the air was sweltering with salt and the sudden impact of your new reality.

You weren’t good with death, not in any of its forms.

When your daddy died, something inside you cracked clean in half, the break jagged and irreparable. You’d felt a piece of yourself slip down into his grave, like a loose flower. Since then, you’d clung to the hope that love—your love—could somehow keep the people you cared about alive. At least until you felt ready for the loss.

Your chest ached in a way that felt both too familiar and entirely new, like grief had leveled your ribs to construct a home in your body. You rubbed at it absently, trying to dull the pressure blooming there, blinking hard against the rising tide of tears.

She was going to die. You knew this. It settled into your stomach like lead, poisoning you.

Behind you, the woods creaked, the trees’ chorus soft and low, like they were joining you in mourning. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey, angel,” Sevika said, her voice low and warm, the kind of soft you wouldn’t have expected from her. It caught you off guard every time. “You alright?”

“I’m not going back in there,” you said quickly, your voice brittle and thin.

“You don’t have to.” There was a pause, long enough to make your chest tighten. Then, quieter, “Can you look at me?”

You hesitated, staring down at your hands, at the chipping polish on your grown out tips and the way your fingers trembled. You could feel her waiting, patient and steady, like she’d stand there all night if you needed her to. Finally, you turned, slow and reluctant, until your eyes met hers.

Sevika stood at the edge of the porch, broad shoulders framed by the faded light. Her face was unreadable, but not unkind.

“Come here,” she said, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t think. You moved, inching forward on unsteady legs and stepping into her orbit. Her hands came up instinctively, one curling around your elbow, the other hovering just above your waist, as if she wasn’t sure where to touch you.

“I can’t go back in there,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“[Name]—,”

“She’s dying.”

“But you knew that. You can’t leave her when she needs you the most.

“I’m tired of people fucking needing me.” You crossed your arms over your torso, holding yourself. “They all just leave anyway.”

“When you love people, that’s the process. That’s life’s price.

The words hit you like a perfect blow, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying—big, fat tears that streaked your cheeks with warmth and made your mascara run. You tried to turn away, but her hand found your chin, tilting your face back toward hers.

“Hey,” she murmured, her thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s unfair, I know. Trust me, I know. Let it out.”

And you did. You let the sobs take you, let them rip through you wave after wave, until you were clinging to her shirt, the fabric balled tightly in your fists. She held you through it, solid and unfaltering, her hand steady against your back.

When the tears finally subsided, you felt drained, like you’d been wrung out and left to dry. But her arms stayed around you.

❀

Sevika managed to coax you inside, shivering and bleating like a lamb, but the house was newly unbearable.

Every room smelled like antiseptic and something sweetly rotting beneath the surface, a scent that clung to your hair and the back of your throat. The walls felt too bright, too alive for what was happening inside them.

It was like the house was mocking you. Every sound—your grandmother’s labored breathing, the clock ticking too loudly in the kitchen, your little sister’s restless movements on the couch—seemed to close in on you.

You couldn’t stay. Not in that room, not in that house. Maybe you took after your mother more than you liked to admit.

Your sister looked so small on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and her face blank as she stared at the flickering TV. She was holding onto the hem of her dress like it might unravel if she let go and the man on the screen promised to get her a spot in heaven, under God’s thumb. Bullshit.

When you spoke, your voice was soft, barely audible over the droning hum of the television.

“Get your shoes on, bug,” you said. “We’re going to the beach.”

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes searching yours for a moment before she nodded and slid off the couch.

You were almost out the door when your aunt caught you, her voice sharp but quiet.

“You better know what you’re doing with that woman.”

Kenna’s words stopped you cold, the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder as you turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her face shadowed by the dim porch light.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with her,” you admitted, your voice low. “But I know I trust her.”

Your aunt studied you for a long moment, her gaze heavy and cutting. Finally, she stepped aside, her expression softening just enough to let you know she wasn’t angry, just worried.

“I know what infatuation looks like. I know what love looks like too, even when it’s still on its way. It’s coming, baby. Just—,”she sighed, breaking off.

“Just be careful,” she finished.

You hugged her tight, sagging as she slid a hand over her hair before letting you go.

Sevika was waiting in the car, her arm draped over the steering wheel, her face unreadable in the twilight. Your sister climbed into the backseat, curling up immediately with her Lisa Frank coloring book, and you slid into the passenger seat without a word.

The drive was quiet, the low hum of the city filling the space between you. Sevika didn’t push, didn’t ask what had happened inside. She just drove, and you were so grateful you could’ve kissed her.

The beach was nearly empty when you arrived, the sun beyond gone now. You spread a blanket out on the cool gray sand, letting your sister run down to the water. Her laughter echoed faintly, carried by the breeze, and for a moment, you let yourself relax.

You pulled off your woven cover-up, revealing the soft orange bikini you’d slipped on. The well-loved fabric clung to you, accentuating the plush curves of your body in a way that made you stall for only a moment. But then Sevika looked at you, and the way her gaze dragged over you made all air flee your throat.

She swallowed hard, her jaw working as she tore her eyes away and stared out at the water instead.

“You look nice,” she said, her voice gruff.

You snorted, sitting down on the blanket.

“Nice?”

“Very nice,” she amended, but the rasp in her voice gave her away.

“You do too,” you told her and you meant it.

She was gorgeous in her black cropped tee and little black cargoes. This was “as beachy as she was willing to get”. You didn’t give a damn. You wanted to eat her alive.

The sky deepened into a hazy indigo, the stars faint and scattered. Your sister danced along the shoreline, her feet splashing in the shallow waves. You watched her, your chest aching with something you couldn’t name.

“I wish this was my entire life,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Sevika.

She turned to you, her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing to your sister. “Taking care of her. Taking care of my daughter with my wife. No illness, no bills piling up, no—” Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard. “No worries. Just a quiet life.”

Sevika didn’t respond right away. When you finally looked at her, her face was so soft in a way you knew was probably a rarity. Her prosthetic raised in an aborted motion, as if she’d thought to touch your face.

“I could take care of you, baby,” she said quietly, the words slipping from her lips like a promise.

Your breath caught, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“Come back with me, [Name],” she said, her voice low and steady. “Stay with me and Melly. Bring [Sister’s Name]. You don’t have to do it alone all the time.”

The fantasy of her words pressed against your chest, warm and overwhelming. For a moment, you let yourself imagine it: her, Melly, your sister, a life where the world's heaviness couldn’t crush you.

Your sister called out from the water, waving a piece of driftwood she’d found, and the moment broke. Sevika’s hand brushed yours, solid and grounding, and when you turned back to her, her eyes were still on you, waiting.

The tide lapped at the shore, the sound mingling with your sister’s laughter, and you felt a rising pulse in your mouth, on your tongue.

“They do fireworks at the docks. You have to pay, but we sneak in all the time. You wanna see?”

“Sure,” Sevika said.

The answer came so easily and you knew she’d give you everything. Maybe even love you forever. The thought made you tingle and you dug your toes into the sand.

“Let’s go,” you said, your pinky twisting around hers.

You both knew you weren’t talking about the fireworks.

With a wry smile she rose and set about taking you home again.

Your sister—forever your baby—was curled fast asleep in the back seat of Sevika’s car by the time you pulled out of the lot, her face slack with the kind of peace only children seemed capable of. Her soft snores filled the space between you as Sevika drove back to your grandmother’s house, the streets quiet and warm, lit faintly by streetlights. The evening air hung heavy, sticking to your skin like a second layer.

You glanced at Sevika as she drove, her profile lit in flashes by the passing lights. Her grip on the wheel was loose, but her fingers drummed absently against the leather, her thoughts somewhere else. Maybe with you.

You wondered if she was nervous. You wondered if she knew how much you were.

“She’s out like a light,” Sevika murmured, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Guess it’s just us.”

You swallowed, your fingers playing with the hem of your cover-up, and nodded. “Just us.”

Your aunt was waiting on the porch when you arrived. She was perched on the railing, her vape glowing faintly in the dark. You knew the scent without looking: cucumber, apple, and sour cherry.

Her sharp gaze moved between the two of you as Sevika carried your sister inside, her long stride easy and steady despite the weight of the little girl in her arms.

“Enjoyed your family outing?” Aunt Kenna asked, teasing but pointed, as you lingered by the door.

You blinked at her, startled, heat rising in your cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”

She snorted, taking a long drag. “Sure it wasn’t .”

❀

The docks were quieter than you expected when you arrived. Most of the families had settled in their little corners, kids running barefoot across the wooden planks, their laughter echoing into the open sky. The air smelled of pear, peach blossoms, and distant charcoal grills, a mix of sugar and fire that felt like the very essence of where you’d been born and raised.

Sevika parked far enough away to avoid the crowd but close enough for you to see the shimmering reflections of the boats swaying in the dark water. She leaned back against the hood of her car, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and watched as you wandered closer to the edge, the creamy orange of your tiny bikini glowing faintly in the dim light.

You should’ve been illegal.

“Careful, angel,” she called, her voice warm, fond. “You fall in, I’m not jumping after you.”

You turned, smirking, the breeze tugging at the bow sitting pretty in the middle of your full breasts.

“I can swim.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to fish you out,” she said, but her smile gave her away. She was watching you so intently, her gaze loaded, as if committing you to memory.

You walked back toward her, your arms wrapped around yourself, and stopped just a foot away. The tension between you was almost tangible now, electric. You could feel it humming in the air, in the way her eyes lingered on the curve of your wide hips, the dip of your collarbone. It made your breath hitch.

“I’ve always loved the docks,” you said softly. “They feel… timeless. Like you could stand here forever and nothing would change.”

Sevika hummed, tilting her head to look up at you. “You think that’s a good thing?”

You shrugged, your lips curving faintly.

“Sometimes.”

The first firework burst above you then, a bloom of pink and gold that lit up the sky and reflected off the water. A shock of red followed shortly after. You both looked up, the moment suspended, the sound of the explosion echoing in your chest.

You glanced at Sevika, her face bathed in the soft glow of the fireworks, and felt something shift inside you. Something undeniable.

The show continued, and you moved to lean against the hood of her car. The metal was warm and your stomach was buzzing at the nearness of Sevika’s broad body.

By the time the fireworks were halfway through, you couldn’t focus on them anymore. The loud bursts of color seemed secondary to the way Sevika was lounging next to you, her broad shoulders relaxed, her eyes soaking in the way goosebumps bubbled along your arms. It felt like she was daring you to do something, to cross the line you’d been dancing around since she’d swept you off the highway.

You moved closer, your bare feet brushing against hers, and she straightened slightly, her head listing to the side as she watched you.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice low.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding.

“I’m thinking…” You trailed off, your fingers twisting in the sides of your bikini bottom. “I’m thinking this feels… nice.”

Her lips quirked, just slightly, but her gaze was serious. “Nice?”

“So good,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel… safe with you. Things are perfect like this, and—and I’m probably never gonna feel this way again.”

The words hung between you, honest and raw, and you could see the way they landed on her, the way her expression softened, her guard slipping for just a moment.

“I’d never hurt you,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, stepping even closer until you were standing between her legs, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. “I know.”

You didn’t, really. She could be selling you a paper thin dream. But your hope had always been the largest part of you. It spurred the flame you felt for her, your aching burning desire to be with her all the time. To ride by her side without question.

Her hand came up then, hesitating for just a second before settling on your waist. The touch was light, almost cautious, but it sent an electric current straight through you.

“Sevika,” you whispered, your voice stumbling.

She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your cheek.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that felt just right, like the tide meeting the shore. Your body lit up, and you collapsed into her—trusting and free.

She stilled for a moment, as if surprised, but then her hand tightened on your waist and she kissed you back, slow and deliberate.

The world seemed to fade then, the fireworks a distant, glittering symphony in the black sky. All you could feel was her—her warmth, her strength, the way she seemed determined to hold you together even as you felt like you might fall apart.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in weak gasps, lightheaded and aching to faint, she rested her forehead against yours, searching your dilated eyes.

Your lip gloss was smeared across Sevika’s jaw, leaving a streak of shimmering peach and rose that caught in the fleeting light of the evening. It clung to her skin, soft and vivid As she moved, the stain glistened faintly, the contrast against her sharp, weathered features sending a slow, aching thrill down your spine.

It was yours, this faint, glittering mark, lingering in the space where your mouth had been. She made no effort to remove it.

“Angel,” she murmured, her voice rough. “You sure about this?”

You nodded, your hands clutching at her shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she pressed another searing kiss to your lips.

“Come on,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Let’s get in the car.”

❀

Your palm slapped hard against the roof, your teeth almost tearing through your bottom lip as you tried to hold back a loud moan.

Beneath you, Sevika gripped the copious flesh of your ass as she sucked at your clit.

“Oh, shit, Sevika. Fuck.”

In the beginning you were so careful, worried about blocking her airway. With a hard slap to your ass she pulled you down, relentless in taking all of you.

“Hnnnnnh,” you whimpered. “Sevi, fuuuuuck.”

Sevika hummed in satisfaction at that. As she watched your face she grazed your clit with her teeth, relishing in how you arched.

You were so warm and supple between her fingers, your pussy slobbering over her nose and mouth. You tasted so good, so musky and honeyed. She never wanted to let you go.

Slowly, she slide you down and pressed you down to her chest as she undid your bikini top so that your tits spilled eagerly against her own. She then tenderly tucked two fingers inside of you, cooing as you whined at the stretch.

She began to bounce you by the fabric of your bottoms, forcing you to ride her fingers until they were covered in the thin film of your wetness. You moaned at her strength, at how easily she’d decided how you’d take her.

“Good fucking girl. So sweet, aren’t you, baby? Hmm?”

“Sevi, please. Just—just a little faster.”

She grinned meanly, inserting a third finger and curling them—raking cruelly against your g-spot. You sank further into her, swiveling your hips if only to get her deeper. To take her harder. Your pussy was weeping, emptying itself onto her hand.

“Jesus, sweetheart. You’re leaking all over me. ‘M never gonna get this out of these seats.”

“Good,” you breathed out, smiling impishly.

Sevika’s eyes darkened and she suddenly rearranged you till you were on your back against the leather seats, your legs wholly spread. she lowered between them, licking a long stripe up to your clit experimentally.

She had you soft and loose. You didn’t realize just how spacious this car was.

You moaned, high and loud, snapping into an arch until you were forced to come back down, Sevika’s arm holding your hips firmly. Your eyes were closed now, and your eyelids were no longer just black, explosions of color staining them, ripping through you.

Sevika lapped at you, taking her time but still intentional with the way she touched you. She used a hand to spread you apart burying her face into her pussy, her nose becoming wet again with your rabid need. She became messy, moving her head back and forth, slurping at you until you were almost shaking, on the edge of something greater.

Settling back just slightly, she spat harshly into your cunt and rubbed it into your clit, pressing down until it was close to painful. You couldn’t breathe correctly. You couldn’t even remember your name.

"Sevi. Sevi. Mommy, oh my fucking God.“

Sevika said nothing, just caught a lip of your cunt between her teeth, biting down as she slid her fingers back in.

"Unh," is what you had to add to the nonexistent conversation and Sevika grinned against you.

She spread her fingers and then curled them, dragging your hips into her lap as she sat up. You couldn’t feel your fucking legs.

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. It feels so fucking good."

Sevika was driven and vicious, determined to eat away at the woman beneath her. You curved your back as your orgasm approached, determined to feel it all the way up in the cavern of your mouth. You needed this.

Sevika leaned over you, tilting your head down so that you were looking at one another.

"I want you to keep looking at me as you cum."

You made a faint noise of agreement and clutched at Sevika’s arms. She took your hands and placed them underneath your knees, so that you could hold yourself open. It spread you apart until she was able to view how pink and puffy you were.

“I can’t wait to get you in bed, honey. ‘M gonna bend you over, open that tight little cunt with my cock, and watch you swallow me.”

“Oh.” You let a little groan of satisfaction as she thumbed at your clit.

Sevika pressed your foreheads together and thumbed at your mouth. You felt both here and there, brain blanking.

“Ohh,” she mocked you with a slight smile. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You cast your head back as Sevika returned her mouth to your pussy, suckling at it in combination with her fingers carving a space deep inside of you.

"Come on, angel," she urged. "Be good for me."

You were trying, goddamnit.

"Gonna take a photo of this creamy cunt. Show Melly, tell her that I did this. That you let me."

You let out a high whine, and she nodded in faux sympathy.

“Mmm? Is that what you want to do? Want me to take you to that shitty club and spread you open on stage? Stake my claim?”

A fourth finger now. Her voice dropped as if telling you a secret.

“Maybe I’ll slide some cold, hard cash into this slutty cunt, stretch that slit.” Faster now. Your toes curled. “ Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. Mommy just wants to slut you out.”

She pressed a delicate kiss to your cunt and you were unsure if what came next was just the slam of your hand against the door echoing or another firework going off.

All you knew was that the world around you was roaring, that she refused to stop. All you knew was her digging into you.

You imploded.

❀

The drive back was quiet, the tension between you still palpable but softer now, sated and sleepy. Sevika reached over once, her fingers brushing against your cheek and you shifted, pressing the petals of your lips into the center of her palm without hesitation.

When you finally pulled into your grandmother’s driveway, the house bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, you turned to her, your heart full to bursting.

“Stay,” you said, your emotions splayed wide open. “Just for a little while.”

She looked at you for a long moment, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

You both knew it wasn’t just for a little while.

❀

The house smelled like hibiscus and coffee when you walked in, the faint scent of six-dollar soy candles lingering in the corners. Your aunt was at the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water, her curls pinned back with a clip. She turned when she heard the door creak open, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Sevika trailing behind you, broad-shouldered and quiet.

“You brought her back?” she asked, not in a disparaging manner, though her tone carried the weight of an older woman who’d seen it all.

“[Sister’s Name] forgot something in her car,” you lied easily, gesturing toward said alibi, who was peeking into the kitchen while rubbing a fist over her eye, her drowsy greeting muffled as she dragged her blanket behind her.

Your aunt didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue either. Instead, she flicked her chin toward the counter.

“If she’s staying, she may as well help.”

Sevika looked at you, one brow arched slightly in amusement. You shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the idea of her folding herself into your life—even for something as mundane as this—made your stomach swoop.

The kitchen was broiling, almost unbearably so, with the old oven humming faintly and the humidity from the day still clinging to the walls. Sevika rolled up her sleeves, revealing the curve of her forearms, the prosthetic gleaming faintly in the soft overhead light.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes kept drifting—over the way her hands moved as she dried the dishes your aunt handed her, the faint flex of muscle under her skin.

“You ever wash a dish before?” your aunt asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Plenty,” Sevika admitted, her voice low and even. “Did a couple restaurant stints when I first came to this place. I was hoping to never do that shit again.”

You bit back a smile, ducking your head as you reached for a towel to dry the counter. The space felt smaller with her in it, her silhouette filling every corner, her quick movements electric.

Your aunt glanced between the two of you, her gaze lingering on Sevika before she handed her another plate.

“You’re a hard worker. Good. She needs someone who can keep up.”

Sevika’s lips quirked, but she didn’t respond, her attention focused on the task in front of her.

The radio crackled faintly from the corner, playing some old Cuban bolero your aunt loved, and you found yourself swaying slightly as you worked, the rhythm infectious. You caught Sevika watching you out of the corner of her eye, her gaze soft but intent, and your cheeks warmed.

“You dance to this too?” she asked, her voice pitched low enough that your aunt didn’t catch it.

“Sometimes,” you said, keeping your focus on the counter. “Not for free, though.”

She chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. “Figures.”

Your aunt, oblivious or maybe just tactfully ignoring the tension that weaved itself between you, turned to Sevika with a clean dish in hand.

“Rinse this for me, would you? And don’t let her distract you—she’s been trouble since she could fucking walk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sevika said, glancing at you with a spark of amusement in her eyes.

The night wore on, the kitchen growing quieter as your aunt finally finished and stepped out to check on your sister. You stayed behind, leaning against the counter as Sevika dried her hands on a threadbare patch of towel.

“I can’t believe you were hustling in restaurants,” you said, nodding toward the sink.

She smirked, tossing the towel onto the counter.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can be a delight.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“Thanks for helping.”

“Anytime,” she said, her voice softening slightly.

You watched her for a moment, the way her shoulders seemed less tense now, the way her hair caught the light. The memory of her hands on you earlier still lingered, watering over your skin. It was a secret only the two of you shared.

“You okay?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she stepped closer.

You nodded, though your chest felt tight, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

“Yeah. Just a little tired.”

Her hand brushed yours, just barely, but it was enough to make your heart skip. She noticed, her gaze dropping to where your fingers nearly touched before she pulled back, her jaw tightening.

“We should get some sleep,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though you didn’t move.

For a moment, neither of you did, the hum of the radio the only sound in the room. Then she stepped back, giving you space you didn’t want, and you let her.

❀

Your bedroom felt much like the inside of a shell—quiet and strange, the air soaked with a mixture of rose, magnolia, and something darker, something that sat low in your chest. You could still taste the golden slices of your childhood, still feel the ache in your ribs that came from building elaborate forts.

But now there was Sevika, solid and steady beneath you.

As soon as the door had closed, she’d taken you apart slowly, carefully, as though she’d known you needed it to feel stable again.

The rough pads of her fingers, the soft murmur of her voice, the way she called you princess like it was the only name you’d ever had. And you had suffered in silence, hand across your mouth as you clenched and shook around her head for the third time, then the fourth.

You’d finally tired after a good ride on her thigh, holding on desperately to the nape of neck. Her baby hair was soft there, tender. She came when you kissed her nose, slid down to her mouth, and called her beautiful. She’d whimpered, bucked awkwardly around your fingers, and you held her to you as you whispered her name.

You’d looked it up in the bathroom. Sevika. Of Indian and Sanskrit origin. Servant of God.

Now, she lay between your legs, her head resting heavy and warm against your stomach. The weight of her felt magical, made your body feel more virginal than it ever had been, and you sighed lowly as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting pale gold stripes across her back.

The swan wings stretched with her every move, the feathers catching flight as she breathed. Muted ivory and soft grays leaned tenderly into the faintest hints of lavender and navy blue, the delicate gradient of ink glowing against her deep, bronze skin.

You reached out, tracing the curve of a wing’s tip near her shoulder blade. The ink felt warm under your fingertips, her skin soft but unyielding. The swan’s head, nestled at the base of her neck where the wings met, was elegant and sharp, its eyes bright as if they could see into you. You followed the line of its neck with your thumb, your touch lingering at the place where her spine dipped, and she hummed low in her throat, a sound that vibrated through your body.

She tilted her head, her cheek brushing against the softness of your belly as her eyes opened slowly, sleep still heavy in her gaze.

“You like it?” she murmured, voice rough and low.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

You had already said this, and the reminder made you blush in embarrassment. A slow, lopsided smile tugged at her lips, and she closed her eyes again, sinking deeper into you as if she belonged there. You felt her hand slide up to rest on your thigh, her fingers splayed against your skin, holding you in place like she was afraid you’d disappear into the rising morning.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you flinched at the sound, the world outside pressing back in. Sevika didn’t move, just let her hand trail lazily up your spine as you reached for it. The screen glowed with messages from your aunt:

aunt kenna 𓆉: Couldn’t get anyone to cover the rest of my shifts this week. aunt kenna 𓆉: Mom’s still kicking. She’s getting stronger. aunt kenna 𓆉: Ty for coming home. See you soon. Love you, bug x

Still alive, you thought. The words lit up something inside you, bright and raw and impossible to contain. You laughed, the sound catching on the edge of a sob, and dropped the phone onto the bed.

“What is it?” Sevika asked, her voice filling with concern.

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. The words tangled in your throat. Instead, you turned to her, your fingers trembling as they found her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her full mouth.

“She’s still alive,” you whispered, the words spilling out like a prayer.

Her eyes softened, her hand sliding up to cradle your face, her thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice steady, certain. “She’s a strong woman, just like the rest of you.”

The relief hit you all at once, sharp and overwhelming, and you kissed her because you couldn’t think of anything else to do. It was messy and desperate, your hands fisting in her hair as you tried to pour every unspoken thing into her mouth. She let you, her body surrendering to its basest urges .

“Still alive,” you repeated, this time against her lips, your forehead resting against hers as your tears slipped silently onto her skin.

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure, her hands steady on your hips. “You’re all gonna live forever.”

You kissed her again, because you needed to. You needed her.

You believed her.

And the truth was you didn’t know how good it would get for the two (five) of you.

You’d look back, let go, lose this part of things. Take your baby sister and leave.

You’d still be you, but you'd be free.

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