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shadowlord420sgf · 2 days ago

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°❀⋆ Soft Spot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 mateo manta x reader ೀ

⌗ summary: you and mateo have been hanging out so often, it sparks something between you two. word count is 2.2k

⌗ warnings!: fluff & smut, female reader, fingering (reader receives), p in v, mutual pining, multiple orgasms, creampie, friends to lovers

⌗ author’s note: this one goes out to @xxxshadowl0rd420xx who loves this blanket as much as I do 🩷 I wrote him as a soft/service dom and I stand by my point!!! 😭 (u can also read this on my ao3!)

Everyone in the house knew Mateo was the sweetest guy alive. Always cleaning up after the inanimals, tucking them in for naps, making sure none of them missed a meal or bath—not on his watch! His kind efforts were honestly quite impressive, but a bit heart breaking to watch him do alone.

That’s why you started helping him out.

Not just because Davi had taken a particular liking to you, or because you always happened to be free when chores were piling up—but because every time you saw Mateo working himself to the bone with that tired smile on his face, something in your chest ached.

He never complained. Not once. And maybe that’s what made you care even more.

And, god, choosing to help Mateo so often was the best decision you’ve made. Not only did you get to hang out with cute inanimals, you grew closer to an even cuter blanket! It seemed that Mateo enjoyed your company as much as you did, judging by how he lit up and blushed when you walked into the room.

Sometimes, when you worked side-by-side, you’d catch him staring, cheeks tinted pink, before he’d quickly look away and pretend to be very interested in whatever he was occupied with.

You didn’t push it.

You didn’t have to.

Lately, you’d been spending more time with Mateo—“just to hang out,” you’d both say. Sometimes to cuddle, as friends of course, sometimes just to talk. The house could be chaotic, but being curled up with Mateo in a pile of soft blankets and even softer feelings made everything feel far away.

That’s where you were now: sprawled on your side, legs tangled under a heap of covers, Mateo’s arm draped around your waist without either of you saying a word about it.

You felt Mateo’s breath against your neck. You felt his fingers, just barely, tracing along your side.

“You’re always so nice to me,” he murmured suddenly, voice quiet and a little shy. “Like… I don’t know. It just means a lot.”

Your heart skipped.

“I mean, of course I am,” you replied, trying not to sound breathless. “You’re… you’re Mateo.”

He laughed softly into your hair. “That’s not really an answer.”

You turned to look at him. His face was so close. The blush on his cheeks seemed to match yours.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Then what if I said… I like being close to you?”

Mateo blinked and you heard him swallow. His hand gently tightened on your waist for just a moment before relaxing again.

“Good,” he muttered, barely audible. “Because I really, really like being close to you too.”

You both went still for a second—like you were in a shared dream. Then a smile that you loved spread across his face, and he leaned in just a little closer, his hand brushing your cheek like he was scared to push.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, with a nervous voice. “I… really want to.”

The question nearly knocked the air from your lungs because you so badly wanted that too, more than anything. You nodded before you could even think. “Please.”

And then he kissed you.

So slow. So reverent. Mateo kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he needed to memorize the shape of your mouth with his. His hand cupped the back of your head gently, thumb stroking along your jaw, while his lips moved against yours—soft, warm, and slightly trembling from how nervous he clearly was.

You felt him sigh against your lips like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. And then he kissed you deeper, just a tad bit firmer, his other hand tugging you against his plush chest by your waist.

Your fingers curled into the fabric on his shoulders, trying to get closer to him. You could feel the heat building between you—something sweeter than lust, something warmer than just desire. He kissed you like you were precious, like you were something to be held with care, and it made you want him impossibly more.

You two pulled away for a moment, just to breathe, before your lips met again—this time deeper, a little bolder.

“I like you,” he whispered between kisses, as if he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I think about you all the time. Even when I’m busy. Even when I’m trying not to.”

His confession caused your breath to catch in your throat. He kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then moved back to your lips like he missed them already.

“Mateo…” you breathed, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “I like you too. So much. I didn’t know how to say it.”

“You’re saying it now,” he murmured, brushing your lips again. His warm and careful hand rested on your chest, like he was trying to calm the frantic beat of your heart. “You don’t have to do anything else. I’m yours. If you want me.”

Your thumb brushed his cheek. “Of course I want you.” You looked at him with pleading eyes that made his own heart race. “We could… continue? I mean if you want, of course.” You said, your voice much softer than you expected.

And that’s all it took.

Mateo shifted you ever so gently into his lap, hands big and warm as they held your thighs. He looked up at you like you were sacred, already a little dazed. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, voice sweet. “I wanna make you feel good. Just tell me what you need.”

You shivered. “I…I want your hands on me.”

He bit his lip at that, cheeks flushed, and leaned forward to press his lips to your neck. “Okay, baby. I’ve got you.” You melted at the nickname.

His fingers moved to the hem of your red shirt, pausing. “Can I?” he asked, already knowing your answer.

You nodded, and he pushed it up slowly, kissing the newly exposed skin like it deserved praise. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, dragging his lips along your stomach, up to your chest, the feeling making you whine. Your head felt dizzy as his hands cupped your sides, steady and hot to the touch. His mouth moved back to yours, kissing you a little hungrier this time—but still slow and tender.

And he whispered against your skin, again and again, “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me what feels good. Let me take care of you.”

You wanted to sigh at how utterly sweet he was. How he still put everything before himself, even during a time like this.

You didn’t remember how your pants came off, just that Mateo had asked—softly, gently, like every inch of you was a secret he wanted permission to discover—and you’d nodded before the question was even finished.

Now you were straddling him in your underwear, thighs spread over his thick lap, your bare chest against the soft cotton of his clothes, while his hands kneaded your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He breathed your name like a prayer, like he needed you to know how hard he was trying not to lose it. “You’re so soft… so warm… you’re perfect.” The way he gazed at you, completely enchanted, made your skin tingle.

“Hah… you are, Mateo,” you whispered, rolling your hips a little, and the sound he made was gorgeous. Like he couldn’t decide if he should whimper or moan.

“I want you to feel everything,” he said gently, hands skimming down your sides. “You don’t have to do anything for me, okay? Just let me… let me take care of you.” He repeated to make sure you understood.

You shook your head and opened your mouth, to tell him that you wanted him to feel good too, but he brought a finger to your lips. The way he was looking at you was almost overwhelming—like he thought you were the one doing him a favor.

Then, he slipped one hand between your thighs, fingers gliding over the fabric covering you. You were already soaked, and Mateo swore under his breath.

He whispered your name, lips ghosting over your neck. “You’re so wet…”

You whimpered when his fingers pressed down just a little harder, rubbing slow circles through the damp fabric. He kissed your cheek. “That feel good?”

“So good Mateo. Please.” you breathed, already leaning into his touch.

He smiled against your skin, working you open with his fingers—so attentive, so gentle, pushing them against the spot that made you buck forward, praising you softly every time you gasped.

“You sound so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing under your jaw. You felt bad that you couldn’t answer him properly, not when your thoughts were all scrambled. And when he finally slid your panties to the side and eased a finger inside you, slow and careful, you swore you saw stars. He added another, curling them gently, using his thumb to stroke your clit in slow, teasing circles. You were falling apart already.

But Mateo was in no rush. He kissed you through every moan, every tremble, whispering praises and begging you to finish on his fingers, “I know you’re so close. Come for me, please, let me feel it.”

And you did—legs shaking, mouth open in a breathless cry—he caught you, held you, kissed your forehead and rocked you through it like you were something fragile.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, stroking your back as you came down. “You did so good for me.”

You barely managed to breathe, let alone respond, but you smiled into his chest.

And then you felt him shift beneath you, hard and throbbing, and realized he hadn’t even touched himself once.

Your thighs clenched again instinctively.

“Mateo…” you breathed, turning to look at him.

“Hm?” He looked down at you with that lovely dazed, blissed-out expression, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen.

“You’re still…” You glanced down. Still hard. Painfully hard, probably.

“I know.” He smiled shyly. “I was trying to be good. I didn’t wanna rush you.”

You smiled as your hand slowly reached down, and wrapped your hand around his cock through his underwear—and Mateo shuddered. His eyes fluttered shut, hips bucking just slightly into your palm.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, breathless.

But Mateo shook his head, gently easing you onto your back. “Let me,” he said softly. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, I need to be the one to—” He caught his breath again, biting his lip. “Please?”

You nodded, obviously. Like you could ever say no to him. “Yeah… yes please, Mateo.”

Mateo stripped out of the rest of his clothes, and you swear your heart skipped a beat. Oh, he was perfect.

“You okay?” he asked, already climbing over you, gently spreading your thighs apart with careful hands.

“You’re just…so beautiful,” you whispered, completely awestruck.

He smiled, a little bashful. “So are you, my love… I'll go slow. I promise.”

And he took his time. Lined himself up, kissed your forehead, whispered, “I’ve got you,” and pushed in with the most tender, drawn-out stroke you’d ever felt.

Your breath caught. He stretched you so perfectly. Mateo whimpered into your neck, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he slowly bottomed out.

“Ah, you feel—” His voice broke. “—you feel so good. You’re letting me in so easy, baby. So warm…”

He didn’t move at first. Just held you there, buried inside, like he was overwhelmed. He nuzzled your cheek and kissed your lips again—slow and deep—and then pulled back just a little, hips rolling into you with the same careful control he’d shown all night.

Your mouth fell open. “Mateo—”

“I know, my love, I know,” he murmured, sounding desperate. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It did. So good. Every thrust was full and deep and slow, like he wanted you to feel every possible thing, and you did. His hands held you like you were precious, his voice coaxed you through every flutter of your body, and his body moved against like it was the only place he wanted to be.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, “so good for me. Can I make you come again?”

You nodded frantically, eyes glassy, nails digging into the soft skin of his back.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, hips stuttering just a bit as he got closer. “I’m gonna come,” he warned gently, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna fill you up so good, baby. You okay with that?” He struggled to keep himself together, panting hard.

“Ah-” you gasped, back arching into him. “Please, ’Teo, please.”

That did it. He rocked into you a few more times, then stilled, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside you, warm and full and shaking with the force of it. He held you close, breathing hard, and kissed you like you were everything.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there afterward, tangled in the warmth from each other, your body still humming from everything. Mateo hadn’t let go of you once. Even as he softened inside you, he stayed close—his forehead pressed to yours, one arm locked securely around your waist.

“I love you,” you whispered, so unguarded, that for a second you both just stared at each other.

Then Mateo smiled—wide and wonderstruck—and let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. “I love you too,” he said, voice just as soft. “I really, really do.”

#date everything #date everything x reader #smut #mateo date everything #mateo manta #mateo manta x reader #mateo manta smut

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peachiejeongin · 2 days ago

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off limits | hyunjin

synopsis: Your brother's best friend was supposed to be off-limits, but when he comes back from college and old feelings resurface at a party, you find yourself breaking that rule. pairing: brother's bsf!hyunjin x fem!reader genre: smut, brother's best friend warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Recommended), brother!changbin, mentions of alcohol, arguing, making out, dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, slight mentions of marking, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (do not do this :D !!), slight dumbification, slight degradation notice: hello, my loves! i know the brother's best friend trope is overused, but this idea struck me, thus I had to write it! Without further ado, enjoy the story!

word count: 4.8K

smut under the cut !!

“You’re not wearing that.”

Changbin stood in the doorway to your bedroom, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, and already looking as if he was regretting ever even thinking of agreeing to throw a houseparty with you.

The regret was specifically arising at your choice of outfit for the night: a short, black, body-con dress that clung to your curves as if it had been personally tailored to start problems tonight.

You did not even flinch when Changbin spoke. Instead, you turned slightly in the mirror, adjusting one of the shoulder straps with troubled grace.

“Why not?” you inquired, pursing your lips in annoyance. “This is my party too, y’know. I can wear whatever I want.”

“Okay, I get that,” your brother began, rolling his eyes, “but don’t you think it’s…too much? I mean, come on, everyone we went to highschool with is going to see your…assets.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Assets?”

“I’m serious, y/n. The dress is too much.”

Changbin was right: the dress was a bit too much, a bit too short, and a bit too revealing.

That is exactly why you wanted to wear it.

“Whatever,” you scoffed. “I like it. I’m wearing it. End of discussion.”

Changbin sighed as if you were dragging him through emotional warfare.

“Do I need to call Mom?”

“Please,” you snorted. “She bought me this dress.”

“When? For eighth grade formal?” Changbin exasperated.

“Changbin, seriously?” You turned to face him, a look of disgust plastered all over your face.

“Seriously! It’s way too-”

“Way too much! I get it,” you cut Changbin off. “How many more times are you going to say it?”

You shook your head before turning your attention back to your vanity mirror and subsequently your makeup.

“I think I look nice,” you continued, grabbing your mascara and applying it delicately. “That’s all that should matter; not what some jerks from seven years ago think.”

“You look like trouble,” Changbin muttered, turning to leave.

“Who all even is coming?” you asked before he could get too far, swapping the mascara wand in your hand for your lip gloss.

Changbin shrugged.

“Off the top of my head, I know Felix will be here, and so will Seungmin, Jeongin, Hyunjin—”

Your hand froze as it was about to apply your lip gloss.

“What?” you asked, tone light, innocent. Too innocent.

Changbin turned back slowly, squinting slightly.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” he questioned, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing, I just,” you began, stumbling slightly. “I just didn’t know he was back from college yet.”

You tried to brush it off—brush off the fact that your brother’s best friend, more so your longtime crush, was back in town and would be at your party. It had been years since you had last seen him. Thus, the thought of him being here tonight was both nerve-wracking and thrilling for multiple different reasons.

Hyunjin always viewed you as a little sister when you were children. He would begrudgingly have tea parties with you in primary school or sit through your poor makeovers when you had gotten into makeup during your freshman year. It was like having a second, cooler older brother.

Then, that one Summer happened. And everything changed.

To put it bluntly and briefly, inviting Hyunjin on your family vacation turned into a week of secretly fooling around, timeless confessions, and much, much more. You had both sworn never to speak of it again, especially not to Changbin. You figured that would be simple when Hyunjin went off to college.

But as time went on and the days lingered on without Hyunjin being over at some point or another, you found yourself feeling a deep pit in your stomach—a pit of longing, of missing him. You often wondered if he felt the same way.

Now, he is back, and maybe you could get an answer to that question.

But all you could think about was how he would react seeing you. Would he be a completely different person? Would he speak to you at all? Would he—

“Hey,” Changbin snapped his fingers, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“Sorry, what?” you asked, swallowing thickly.

“I said his classes were over,” Changbin re-explained. “He’s on Summer break. I called him, and he said he would try and stop by for a few.”

“Ah,” you nodded solemnly. “I see.” You tried to turn your focus back to your lipgloss, but Changbin tilted his head at you.

“I know that tone, y/n.”

“What tone?”

“The ‘I’m hiding something’ tone,” he explained. “Did something happen between you and Hyunjin that I don’t know about?”

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head.

“No,” you lied. “We just haven’t spoken since he left.”

“You sure?” Changbin inquired. “Because you’re acting really weird.”

“I am not,” you lied again. “I’m just nervous to see him after almost four years is all.”

“Okay,” Changbin’s voice trailed off. “I guess that makes sense. But I’m warning you: Do not make tonight weird with him. He’s my best friend, and if there is something going on—”

“There’s not,” you lied for a third time. “You’re so dramatic. I think you’re starting to pick up his traits.”

“Oh whatever,” Changbin rolled his eyes. “But seriously. If you even think about making things awkward with Hyunjin, and you know exactly what I mean by that, I’m throwing you in the basement and locking the door.”

You smiled sarcastically sweet.

“Love you too, Binnie.”

As he finally walked away, muttering how he had to get the food ready for the party, you took a deep breath, mischief blooming behind your eyes.

Hyunjin’s coming tonight.

You could feel that things were going to be interesting.

—

The bass of the music was thumping through the walls. In no time, your house became crowded with old friends, classmates, and several other individuals. Drinks were poured, snacks were devoured, and every room was over-capacity.

You were squeezing through drunken dancers, a red solo cup splashing in your own hand as you so desperately tried to find Changbin; knowing your brother, however, he was probably black-out drunk either in his bed or on the couch.

In the midst of your panicked, tipsy scrambling, you knocked straight into someone, spilling your drink all over the front of their shirt.

“Shit,” you groaned. “I’m so—”

You looked up at the victim of your clumsiness.

Your eyes widened.

Your jaw slightly dropped.

“Hyunjin?” you asked more than said, purely in disbelief.

He looked nothing like he did the last you saw him. He was sharper, more confident in his demeanor—whether that was a result of growing up or of the alcohol, you did not know. He had most certainly gained some muscle during his time away as well. His hair was buzzed short—though it had grown out substantially—contrasting the longer locks you had grown accustomed to. Though, he still had the same soft, alluring smile and bright eyes that lit up the room on their own.

Somehow, Hyunjin had gotten even hotter than you had known him to be.

“You’re so Hyunjin?” he teased, a faint chuckle escaping his lips and bringing you back to the present.

You shook your head quickly.

“Sorry,” you spluttered. “I’m so sorry. First party since you’ve been back in town and your best friend’s little sister spills her beer all over you.”

“It’s alright,” Hyunjin said, cool and low. “Gave me a chance to talk to you at least.”

You ignored the slight flutter in your chest at his words, instead opting to focus on the silver glint of his rings catching the strobe lights.

That may have actually made things worse, though, as your gaze shifted quickly to his hands…his fingers…

“How’ve you been?” Hyunjin asked, once more snapping your attention back to him.

“Good, yeah,” you replied nervously, almost tentatively. “Life is…life-ing!”

Another giggle. Another stutter of your heart.

“Good to hear,” Hyunjin commented, his heated gaze scanning you up and down. “You sure grew up gorgeous.”

Instead of acknowledging the heat rising in your cheeks, you smiled shyly.

“Are you saying I wasn’t always gorgeous?” you questioned, tone laced with tease.

“No, you definitely always were,” Hyunjin corrected with a smirk. “Just now, I’ve grown up and I’m able to appreciate it more.”

Your eyes softened, and you felt your entire body overcome with a warmth you did not recognize. One you had not felt since Hyunjin had left all those years ago.

You cleared your throat before you could delve too deep into its meaning, however.

“How’s uh,” you began. “How’s college? Must be good if you haven’t been home in four years, right?”

Hyunjin shrugged.

“It’s alright,” he told you. “Nothing too special. Only reason I stayed in the town for so long was because I had family there.”

“You never wanted to come home?”

Hyunjin eyed you, his eyes going solemn.

“Too many memories,” he explained. “Too many people. Too much to not want to remember.”

You felt a pit in your gut; you could not help but feel Hyunjin was somehow referring to your indecent Summer before he had left.

“Right,” was all you said in response.

“Of course,” Hyunjin continued, “there are the good memories. There’s Binnie, my friends…you.” He gave a slight nudge to your arm, and you felt relief wash over you.

Along with relief came remembrance of a certain brother you had to find.

“Speaking of Binnie,” you said, “have you seen him around? I was trying to find him because Seungmin took a girl up to his bedroom and…you know how Seungmin is.”

Hyunjin laughed one more before nodding his head lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen Binnie alright. He’s completely blacked out in his room.”

You covered your mouth as your eyes widened.

“Holy shit, Changbin unintentionally blue-balled Seungmin, and he isn’t even going to remember it.”

Laughter echoed from your little space.

You had forgotten how easily Hyunjin could make you feel—wanted, heard, happy.

“Hey, uh,” he spoke suddenly amidst the giggles and guffaws of you both. “Do you want another drink? I mean, considering the one you just had is,” he motioned to his torso, “all over my shirt?”

You scrunched your face in both laughter and embarrassment, but you eventually nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, I could go for another beer.”

“Cool,” he murmured, taking the solo cup from your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched him disappear into the crowd, headed towards the kitchen. You did not know what to feel primarily at that moment. A mix of emotions swirled your brain, from excitement to anxiety to content. Everything felt unusual and normal all at once.

Hyunjin made everything feel that way, rather.

Before you could dwell on it further, however…

“Woah!” a voice, clearly tipsy and clearly deaf from the music gasped. “When did Binnie’s sister turn into this?!”

You let out a deep sigh.

“Hi, Jisung,” you muttered.

Jisung was one of Changbin’s high school friends. You did not remember much about him other than the fact he was a complete lightweight with alcohol and would kiss anything that moved once enough got into his system.

“Hi!” he responded back cheerfully, further proving your point. “Seriously, when did you become a smokeshow? What happened to the fucking nerd with the big glasses and horrible fashion sense?”

“She grew up, Ji,” you gritted through a tight jaw, trying to shut the inappropriate comments down.

Spoiler alert: your efforts were in vain.

“She sure did! Wow!” Jisung’s eyes were wide, his tone in absolute awe.

“Yep!” you aggravatedly said through a smile, attempting to walk away from the boy; however, he stopped you before you got too far.

“Hey, you know I always liked you in high school, right?” His words slurred together, and he stumbled as he walked towards you.

“Really? That’s…nice!” You were trying to be as patient as you could with Jisung, but it was wearing thin.

“Yeah, so like, wanna make up for lost time or whatever they say in the movies?”

Before you could answer, Jisung was leaning in, lips puckered horrendously as you winced backwards.

All of a sudden, you saw a whirr of black in front of you, and Jisung was pushed backwards.

“Can you not?” a deeper voice growled out.

Hyunjin, by the Heavens above, had saved you from what would have been the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“Heyy, what the hell?!” Jisung stirred, pouting dramatically. “What was that forr?!”

“It was for trying to kiss somebody who’s not your girlfriend,” Hyunjin sneered.

“He has a girlfriend?!” you whisper yelled.

“I have a girlfriend?!” Jisung imitated, causing Hyunjin to breathe in deep and put a hand on Jisung’s shoulder.

Scratch out tipsy from earlier; Han Jisung was drunk off his ass.

“Yes, you do,” Hyunjin calmly explained. “She’s right over there, so go talk to her before she beats your ass for trying to kiss another girl. Got it?”

“Yeah! Thanks man!” With that, Jisung stumble-ran over to the corner of the room, finding the girl Hyunjin had pointed out. You breathed a sigh of relief; however, Hyunjin turned to you with narrowed eyes before walking closer to you. He sat both of your drinks on a nearby table before grabbing your wrist and dragging you off somewhere.

“Come on,” he grumbled.

You did not say a word as he led you down the hallway, past the thumping speakers and drunken scene, and into your own bedroom before slamming the door behind you.

The room was silent. Tense. Uncomfortable.

“So,” you spoke after a while. “When did Jisung get a girlfriend?” Your tone was lighthearted, attempting to calm an obviously irritated Hyunjin, currently staring at you with a dagger-sharp gaze from across the bedroom.

“Seriously?” he retorted, raising his eyebrows and scoffing. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Huh?” You tilted your head, confusion etched amongst your features. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what the hell I mean,” Hyunjin sneered, his eyes narrowing. “I leave for two seconds to grab us some drinks, and you’re talking to Jisung of all people? Come on, y/n!”

“What’s the big deal?” you asked, genuinely. “I was catching up with an old friend, and—”

“An old friend who you almost kissed,” Hyunjin elaborated.

“You’re acting like I wanted to kiss him,” you snarled back. “Were you so blind that you didn’t see me leaning away?!”

“No, I just saw Jisung leaning in,” Hyunjin defended. “Leaning in to kiss my girl!”

You froze.

So did Hyunjin.

His hand moves to cover his mouth, lingering just where his fingertips were touching his lips.

It was as if he had not meant to say that.

Which he truly did not.

Still, it stunned you both that he had.

The room was silent again—a thick, dense, eerie silence.

“Your…your what?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

“I,” Hyunjin paused. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Well, you kinda did,” you remarked with a cold chuckle. “What the hell do you mean ‘your girl’?”

Hyunjin let out a deep, prolonged sigh.

“Look,” he began, “I think it is very obvious how I feel about you, and how I have felt about you—”

“I thought we both agreed to forget about it,” you cut Hyunjin off, crossing your arms. “Our feelings, that is, or did you forget about that agreement instead?”

Your tone was sharper than you intended—or maybe you had intended it to be so. Maybe four years of pent up rage, of thinking Hyunjin had forgotten about you, was pouring out faster than you could keep it in. Nevertheless, you continued.

“Fact of the matter, Hyunjin, is that you don’t get to fool around with a girl one Summer, say you should both forget about it because your best friend is her brother and if he found out, he’d kill you both, leave for four years without a text, call, ‘hey what’s up?’ or even a ‘fuck off, I never actually liked you,’ and still have the audacity to—”

Before you could finish, you felt something warm press against your lips.

Hyunjin’s lips.

He had made his way over to you, hands cupping your cheeks roughly as he pulled you in for an intoxicating, longing, jealous kiss.

You were hesitant in kissing back, naturally; it took you a few seconds before you reciprocated, as a matter of fact. When you did, however, it felt as if the world stopped. His lips were soft, clouding your senses and judgment, and full of passion.

Just as you remembered them to be.

No one pulled away.

No one wanted to.

But eventually, Hyunjin had to.

When he did, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes looking into yours with a deep, intense desire.

“Does that feel like I’ve forgotten about you?” Hyunjin asked, his voice almost a whisper from how husky it was. “Or anything that happened between us.”

“I, uh,” you stuttered, your hands gripping tightly to his forearms.

“Because let me tell you,” he continued, “I have done anything but. I used to wake up in the middle of the night after dreaming about you. I thought about you during class, at lunch, even when I was out with my friends, wishing you were with me. I still think about you; since I came back home, all I have thought about is seeing you, hugging you, being with you like I used to be.”

Your heart jumped to your throat, your eyes widening.

“I,” you choked on your words. “I want that too. But what about Binnie?”

Hyunjin scoffed.

“Y/n, it’s gotten to a point where I don’t give a fuck about what Changbin thinks anymore,” Hyunjin admitted. “If he’s pissed off, so be it. I want you, no matter what I have to sacrifice.”

With that, Hyunjin pulled you into another deep kiss, but this one was more loving than the previous one. It had more feeling, more love than lust; it was more Hyunjin than the last one.

You pulled away with a need for air, smiling against his lips.

“Are you sure?” you teasingly inquired.

“Never been so sure, darling,” Hyunjin responded, smirking. The next words he mumbled made your heart race, as he leaned into the crook of your neck, so much so to where his breath was just fanning over your ear.

“How about we make up for lost time, yeah?”

You did not have to be told twice.

Your lips were back on his, crashing against them with the pent-up months of denial and yearning. Hyunjin’s hands gripped your hips as if to hold onto you forever, like you were a dream he could not bear to wake up from.

Your hands gripped the material of his shirt, holding on for dear life as his teeth grazed your bottom lip. You took the chance to deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding against Hyunjin’s, eliciting a low groan that made your knees go weak.

“Hyunnie—”

“Don’t,” he muttered against your lips. “Don’t say my name like that. I’m trying to be gentle.”

“You’re failing. Miserably.”

As if your words tempted him further, his hands slid down, fingers curling around the backs of your thighs before lifting you up like it was second nature. You wrapped your legs around his waist, the friction dreadfully sinful as your dress rode up your hips.

He carried you over to your bed, setting you down gently and climbing over you, one knee perched in between your thighs. His lips made their way to your neck, his hands fiddling with a random hem of the dress.

“Be honest,” Hyunjin mumbled against your neck. “You wear this for me?”

You could barely find cohesiveness in the midst of Hyunjin’s feather light assaults on your neck; however, you had to admit that, although not your original plan, Hyunjin’s presence did make your confidence heighten in wearing the dress.

“Not,” you stuttered between whines. “Not originally, but—”

“But you knew I’d like it when you found out I’d be here,” Hyunjin finished for you. “You’re so predictable, baby. But you know you didn’t have to get my attention like this. You could’ve just asked.”

“Sh-shut up,” you spluttered.

“Make me.”

You maneuvered a hand up to his jaw, tilting his head up to where you could kiss him again—messier now, less restrained.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Binnie’s gonna kill me.” He let out an airy chuckle to adorn his words.

“Thought you didn’t care about what he thought about us?”

“I don’t,” Hyunjin explained. “But he’s still gonna kill me.”

“Then,” you began, voice seductive and teasing, “if this is going to be your last time fucking me before you’re murdered, make it worth it.”

That got him.

“Sit up,” he growled, hands gripping the hem of your dress. Before you could understand what was happening, Hyunjin pulled your dress up harshly, barely giving you time to lift your arms before it was discarded completely from your body.

He took a moment to look at you properly, marvelling in the body he had so dearly missed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing your dress to the side and unbuttoning his black shirt and throwing it alongside of the dress. “I missed you, y/n.”

His lips immediately went back to kissing and sucking on your neck, trailing down to your chest, torso, until he found himself eye contact with just where you wanted him most.

“You’ve been missing me, too, it seems,” he whispered, eyes widening at the sight of your glistening heat. You instinctively closed your legs out of embarrassment; after all, you had not engaged in this sort of act since Hyunjin had left. However, almost instantly, Hyunjin’s hands parted your legs, albeit a bit roughly.

“Uh-uh,” Hyunjin tsked. “Don’t you dare hide from me. I want to see all of you tonight. Now, lay down so I can make you feel good.”

You did as commanded, and after a few brief moments—that honestly could have been mistaken for forever in your clouded mind—Hyunjin dived into you.

“Oh my fuck,” you moaned, one of your hands immediately tangling in his hair. You had forgotten just how amazing Hyunjin was at giving you head.

His lips found your clit instantaneously, sucking on it at just the right pace, taking his time with you, and re-memorizing just what got you going. His tongue slid down your folds slowly, languidly, oftentimes daring to poke just inside of your entrance.

“So good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations sending a jolt through your heat. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your brain was putty, the only thing it was able to focus on was how good you felt—how good Hyunjin was making you feel.

In the midst of your haze, you felt one of Hyunjin’s fingers lightly prodding inside of you, curling upwards just right. The cool metal of his rings added a chilling sensation to your body, making you shiver as Hyunjin continued his movements.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this recently,” Hyunjin admitted, sounding as if he were in awe. “How much I’ve been missing you, the way you felt, the way you taste and sound…”

As if on cue, you let out a hearty moan, your legs trembling slightly. You felt a coil tighten in your stomach, your brain going white as you focused on reaching your high.

“That’s it, pretty,” Hyunjin cooed. “Come for me. All over my fingers.”

Hyunjin’s words were the breaking point; as if conditioned by him, you let go almost instantly, your chest heaving and eyes seeing stars as you climaxed. One of your hands moved to cover your cherry-red face, and Hyunjin’s fingers still moved in and out of you slowly, riding out your high before replacing them with his tongue. A slight wave of over-sensitivity plagued you as he licked up your release, wiping his lips cheekily after he did so.

You could only stare at him, eyes blown out, your breathing still heavy, and your mind completely foggy.

“Still as amazing as I remember,” Hyunjin commented, moving back to hover over you. His lips encapsulated yours once more, though they were notably gentler now. Your arms wrapped around his neck like a lifeline as your lips moved in sync with his. He pulled away with a gentle laugh.

“Needy, are we?” he teased.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. “I need you so bad, Hyunjin.”

“You just had me, darling,” he cheekily remarked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “What more could you possibly want?”

You groaned out of frustration.

“Come on, don’t make me say it,” you whined.

“Hmm, but if you can’t say it, how do I know you truly want it?”

You pouted your lips, your eyebrows furrowing as you let out a huffed sigh.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you practically begged. “I need your cock inside of me, Hyunnie, please. I need it so bad.”

Hyunjin chuckled, both out of enthusiasm and desire.

“Good girl,” he said, adorning it with a kiss to your temple. “Such a needy girl for me.” As he spoke, he leaned up to where he was sitting on his heels, giving him just enough leeway to unbutton his black jeans and slide them off. His underwear came shortly after, tossed somewhere on the floor as he leaned back over you.

“This is your last chance to back out,” Hyunjin said alluringly, lining himself up with your entrance. “Once we do this, you’re mine. And nothing—not college, not Changbin, nothing—is getting in between that. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, please, Hyunnie!” you nearly screamed out, your hands threading in his hair.

Hyunjin’s only response was a humored, desireful smirk.

He slowly pushed himself in, the painful yet pleasurable sensation earning a loud moan from you. The minute he filled you to the brim, bottoming out inside of you, he slowly pulled out before slamming back in.

“Oh my gosh!” you yelled; you were grateful the music was up loud enough to where drunken guests could not hear.

Soon, a cacophony of skin-slapping, moans, groans, and other lewd noises filled the room. Hyunjin had set a rhythm—a medium pace that was teetering on the edge of roughness—and he was turning you into a blubbering mess.

“Look at you,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, deeper and harder this time. “You’re taking me so well. So tight, so wet, so, so good for me, baby.”

You did not respond.

You could not.

Your mind was so far gone that all you could concentrate on was Hyunjin’s length moving in and out of you at its now quickened pace. Your moans had become incoherent, and you felt your body weakening with every jolt of pleasure. All of this in combination made Hyunjin snicker.

“My dumb baby,” he sarcastically cooed. “First night back together, and I’ve already gotten you so cock-drunk, it’s not even funny. Such a dumb, dumb girl.”

You did not know if it was his borderline degradation or the fact that his thrusts had sped up once more, but you found yourself edging on the fine-line of your release. Before you knew it, you were orgasming once again, harder and more intense than you had previously; your cum spilled all over the base of Hyunjin’s cock, and the sight of it alone had him close to his own high. With a loud, guttural groan, Hyunjin pulled out of you, pumping his dick a few times before finishing all over your stomach.

He collapsed beside you, bringing you into his embrace, holding you tightly to his chest.

“How are you feeling?” he whispered, gently stroking your hair.

“Good,” you sleepily mumbled. “Very good.”

Hyunjin let out a light chuckle.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty.”

Hyunjin picked you up in his arms, finding some pajamas from your dresser drawers and grabbing a nearby towel from your bathroom to help tidy up his mess. Once he had gotten you cleaned and dressed and thrown his own boxers back on, he laid down beside you, listening to the now hushed chatter outside your door.

“Seems like most of the guests have left,” he remarked.

“Already?” you asked. “What time is it?”

Hyunjin scrambled to grab his jeans, pulling out his phone from one of the side pockets.

“It is 1:30AM, my dear.”

“1:30AM?!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t realize it was so late! Shouldn’t you be getting home soon?”

“That’s what happens when you fuck for about an hour or two,” Hyunjin laughed. “And no, I’m alright. I told Bin I might just stay over tonight anyways.”

“Okay, but,” you began, “what is he going to say when he figures out you spent the night in my room?”

Hyunjin’s eyes glinted with a devious, almost evil look.

“Who said he’s gonna find out?”

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/aquazero

🏷️@amararosesblog @velvetmoonlght (dm/inbox to be added!)

[ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ? ᴅʀᴏᴘ ᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ, ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ᴀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ!]

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #bang chan #lee know #changbin #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #peachiejeongin

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astroyongie · 22 hours ago

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💋 Spicy Astrology Facts - Part One 💋

-> Hey guys! like promised I have come back with more tarot and astrology posts! this one is a first part of a double post. I have added some idols as an example, I hope you guys enjoy it!

𓆩♡𓆪

-> Also please do not steal my content <3

Mars in Scorpio 𓆩♡𓆪 Of course I was going to start by the one which is the most iconic. This placement is known for deep, magnetic and obsessive sexual energy. They want soul merging intensity and are often masters of seduction. They aren't the type to mess around, specially if this falls in their 1st, 4th, 7th, 8th or 12th houses. I have noticed that mars scorpio is definitely an amazing choice if you are looking for a bedroom moment that is intense both physically and emotionally. 𓆩♡𓆪 Changbin, Jeonghan, Yeri, Winter

Venus in Capricorn 𓆩♡𓆪 Definitely not biases here, but people with this placement often appear reserved, but once they trust you, they’re incredibly loyal. Capricorn energy in Venus are usually hard to love, because they don't give much space for it but they do crave a powerful, lasting physical bond with someone they can give themselves to. 𓆩♡𓆪 Jin, Chanyeol, Miyeon, Yuna

Pluto Conjunct Mars 𓆩♡𓆪 To me it's the most explosive sexual energy someone can have. This aspect brings primal erotic energy like usually people with this aspect in their natal chart have an enjoy dominance dynamic. Also they might have a thing for obsession with control in bed. 𓆩♡𓆪 Yeonjun, Bangchan, Yuqi, Yuju

8th House Venus 𓆩♡𓆪 This one is all about where love meets transformation. These people crave deep, all-consuming love however they are often love affairs more than in partnership. Also I have noticed they often attract karmic sexual experiences which can result in children.

Moon in Scorpio 𓆩♡𓆪 It's not a surprise that they are emotionally intense lovers. They crave deep emotional sexual bonding and can be both possessive and incredibly loyal. They are like the twin of Scorpio Mars, just a little more centered in the emotional aspect of the relationship. 𓆩♡𓆪 Sejun, Theo Sumin, Lee Soojin

Venus Square Mars 𓆩♡𓆪 A placement of raw sexual tension (this one also works for synastry). These people have irresistible chemistry with their partners and like I said it is intensified if they have it on their synastry. However they may struggle with balancing love and lust and sometimes both get confused. 𓆩♡𓆪 Jacob, Suga, Ryujin, Jisoo

Mars in Aries 𓆩♡𓆪 They are the type to go for a very fast, fiery, and passionate sex with their partner. This Mars is impulsive, dominant, and enjoys physical conquest and challenge in sex. They aren't known to be the most faithful but god a night with them is also unforgettable. 𓆩♡𓆪 Junghoon, Jihoon, Sullyoon, Sakura

Venus in Gemini 𓆩♡𓆪 It's not a surprised that Venus Gemini are lovers who need mental stimulation to get turned on. With that I mean they love flirting, teasing, and witty banters with people and they are also very good at it. They are like their own personal aphrodisiacs. 𓆩♡𓆪 Inseong, Sunoo, Eunha, Haneul

Lilith Conjunct Ascendant 𓆩♡𓆪 The person with this placement often exudes raw, taboo breaking sexual allure, I have noticed they have quite. a few heavy/rough kinks which most of them can be taboo depending in their society/country/cultural background. Also they are super attractive and other people may project fantasies such as those taboo ones onto them without knowing why.

Mars in Libra 𓆩♡𓆪 they are the seductive charmer of the wheel in my opinion. They love those cute and love-dovey like aesthetics, they love to touch their partner, and have a nice rhythm in bed. Pleasing their partner is a priority especially visually which is why they always look so damn good in lingerie or in whatever clothes they wear. 𓆩♡𓆪 Jake, Jiwoong, Jihyo, Ningning

Transiting Mars Through 8th House 𓆩♡𓆪 When this happens it usually triggers heightened sexual desire within yourself. in some cases it will also trigger secret affairs, and potential power dynamics in intimate relationships that get shifted.

Venus-Pluto Aspects 𓆩♡𓆪 people with this aspect in their natal chart tend to experience intensely transformative relationships (like the type of love that will shape their life) but they are also very jealousy and sometimes irresistible for others to resist. they have quite a few fated sexual connections. 𓆩♡𓆪 Eunwoo, Yeosang, Jeongyeon, Irene

Neptune in the 5th House 𓆩♡𓆪 Romantic and erotic daydreamers. May idealize their partners in a certain way depending on the sign Neptunes holds. They are also attracted to fantasy scenarios, role play, or spiritual sex.

Juno in Scorpio 𓆩♡𓆪 One thing I can say with people with this is that they will have long termed partners which will bring emotional intensity and sexual depth. They often lose their virginity rather late. Surface level relationships won’t cut it and they aren't bringing any experience to them.

Chiron in the 8th House 𓆩♡𓆪 It's maybe weird but usually the internal wounds and potential healing for people with this placement often come through sexual relationships (eg. helping self acceptance or help through trauma). These people may have experienced trauma but also deep healing related with intimacy.

Mars Square Uranus 𓆩♡𓆪 I find this people to have tat sudden, electric chemistry with anyone no matter what they do. These people can have unexpected flings or unconventional turn-ons without even realizing until they get through it. 𓆩♡𓆪 Mark Lee, Mark GOT7, Haseul, Kim Lip

South Node in the 5th or 8th House 𓆩♡𓆪 In a more spiritual way, this can indicate a past life lover or karmic entanglements that resurface in your lifetime, often with intense sexual magnetism.

Venus in Leo 𓆩♡𓆪 They are all about that drama love, that love that feels like total devotion, and love that is filled with exhibitionism (they want to be shown off and to show off their partner). They are people of grand gestures and passionate sex, often drawn to being adored and admired. 𓆩♡𓆪 Sungchan, Hao, Chaewon, Keena

Eros Conjunct Mars 𓆩♡𓆪 Honestly this is pure sexual magnetism for who has it. This aspect gives raw erotic drive, charisma, and strong physical attraction to however they wish. they are conventionally attractive and so good in the bedroom. probably the best transit in astrology to be a true king/queen in bed.

Venus Retrograde in Transit 𓆩♡𓆪 When Venus go in retrograde, it can bring back ex lovers back into your life, old flames getting ignited again, or stir unresolved sexual desires with people you have tried to avoid. Sometimes ignites dormant attraction with someone from the past or to someone close to you that you know will bring trouble.

#astrology #astrology facts #astrology predictions #astrology readings #astrology signs #astrology observations #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astrology notes #astrology observation #astroblr #transits #synastry

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all-with-angel · 2 days ago

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Our wedding day

❥ Nanami Kento x m!reader

❥ What if Nanami Kento had always loved you, yet never came out? Now he has to watch you in the arms of another man, a man that could've been him, if he wasn't such a coward.

Content. Queer Nanami(I'll let you interpret his sexuality here<3), internalized homophobia, drama drama drama, Reader is married but Nanami still wants him, not proofread, I'm not sure what else to add so have fun reading!

A.N. Im feeling manly and depressed today

masterlist

There was something they called this feeling.

The feeling of your heart tearing itself out of your ribcage, reaching for another that you thought was unattainable. The feeling of your throat refusing to let you breathe like the weight of living was too much for it. The feeling you’ve been trying to suppress all these years — the exact one that Nanami had always seemed to make you feel.

Even now, with a ring on your finger and your newly-wedded husband just a few rooms away, it never really seemed to leave you.

“The reception party is inside Kento,” You’re cornered on a balcony, the hosts’ voice fading in and out as your guests enjoy your reception party. “Go back inside.”

“Can we talk?” Nanami's voice is cautious. Low and careful to not scare you away back to your husband , a man that actually deserves you, they described him.

“No. Get back to the party,” You wave him off, turning around to lean against the railing and look off into nothing. Yet you could still see his face, still hear the beat of his heart as you dismiss him. He doesn’t take the hint.

He calls out your name softly, with love he didn’t dare name, like he didn’t lose that privilege years ago. “I’ll be quick.” Nanami takes a slow step towards you. “Just– please.”

“Don’t ‘please’ me—” You twist around, mouth opening to snap at him, yell and scream at him to leave you alone. To stop trying to piece together the heart he broke and stomped on.

Your lips seal into a line, breath almost hitching as you see his face again. Hurt and regretful. Beautifully damning, your bittersweet regret. Something you wanted to leave in the past.

You suck in a breath, voice coming out softer than you intended it to. “You don’t have the right.”

“I know I don’t. But can you give me the right just this once? The last time?” Nanami steps closer. Wind blows through his blonde hair, the same locks you had tangled your fingers in once upon a time. Before nanami had told you that the two of you were not meant to be together. That it was wrong. “Just listen, at the very least.”

“Why should I?” Voice like venom, you snap at him. Even as tears threaten to claw at your eyelids, invisible hands grasping at your throat. “Why should I act like you didn’t choose stability? The easy route?”

“I didn’t—” Nanami starts, but you cut him off with a loud scoff.

“Yeah right.” You barked, rolling your eyes. You shove his shoulder aside to get past him, but that does nothing to stop him from grabbing your wrist. His grip was tight for a moment, the fear of losing you taking hold. But his grip loosens when he remembers he’d already lost you.

That doesn’t mean he can’t get you back again.

“It wasn’t easy for me. Its been my biggest regret for years now.” Nanami sputtered. The world spinning as you feel the sincerity in his voice, as if that would be enough to get back the love the two of you had. The same love that Nanami refused to call anything but that.

“I love you. I always have.”

Until now. When it was too late.

“I was just a coward— stupid and young. You were always better than me with feelings.” He continued, his fingers still tracing your pulse. Still warm against your wrist. Burning up and spreading all over your skin.

You could feel your heart break all over again. Memories flashing behind your eyes, of all the nights you two spent together and every meal you two shared. All the songs– the cursed tape where he had written and recorded a song just for you.

You responded by making one for him in return, a love song with a note attached.

“I’m married, Kento.” Your voice trembled as you said it, pulling your arm away.

You had confessed to him that day, through a tape and a record player.

“Let me go.”

And he broke your heart with a confused, almost hurt glare as he genuinely screamed at you for the first time. Like the truth of what the two of you were stung him. Like it was a betrayal that you’d acknowledged it. To him at the time, maybe it was.

He let go of your wrist, your arm dropping to your side as you wordlessly walked back into the venue. Back to the arms of a man who wasn’t him.

“Okay.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x male reader #kento nanami x male reader #kento x reader #kento x male reader #nanami x m!reader #kento nanami x m!reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk angst #jjk fics #nanami angst #jjk scenarios #angels fics •°. *࿐

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velvetghoul · 2 days ago

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Number 13

✦ oneshot

Reader x Dae-Ho Kang | 18+ MDNI

cw: gun violence, blood, explicit smut, dominant woman, submissive male, cockwarming, riding, overstimulation, whimpering, muzzle flash, mask kink, control kink, mutual intimacy, aftercare, slight voyeurism, camera destruction, Squid Game AU

I've had this in mind since the last season came out, not my usual thing but please enjoy ★

⸻

The room was still ringing with the aftermath of the gunshot.

The body lay twitching on the floor. Blood already spreading.

You lowered your pistol.

Your mask—black, sleek, without a single number—tilted toward the tall figure still frozen in place.

Guard 13.

The red cloth of his mask was splattered with someone else’s blood. His hands still clutched his rifle, but he hadn’t fired. Hadn’t moved fast enough. He stood like a soldier—but he looked like he was about to crack.

You stepped toward him.

The other guards were already dragging the corpse away. Resetting the arena. Pretending this wasn’t anything unusual.

But he didn’t look away.

“Guard 13,” you said. Calm. Sharp. “You come with me.”

He obeyed without a word.

You didn’t speak as you walked the metal corridors, black boots silent compared to his heavier steps. You were tall—most people had to look up to meet your eye—but not him. He was broader, taller. Still looked like he could break someone in half.

Yet he followed you like a lamb.

Inside your private office, the door slid shut behind you with a soft hiss. Locking automatically.

He stood just inside. Hands behind his back. Breathing calm—but a little too slow. Like he was holding it in.

You turned to face him.

“You froze.”

His voice was quiet behind the mask. “I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“…You, ma’am.”

A beat of silence passed. Your head tilted slowly.

He added, “I saw you step in. I didn’t expect you to be real.”

You exhaled through your nose. “That’s a stupid answer.”

“I didn’t say it was smart,” he murmured.

Your boots stepped closer. “Take off your mask.”

He hesitated, just long enough for the tension to tighten. But he obeyed.

When the mask came off, his dark hair was tousled, sweat at the edges. His mouth was soft—too soft for someone who handled rifles—and his eyes, god. Warm brown, gentle even now.

You stepped forward and reached up to your own helmet.

When you pulled it off, his breath caught.

Your hair fell out with a light shake. Eyes sharp. Lips set in a calm line. You didn’t speak. You just watched him.

He blinked once. Slowly. Then smiled just slightly.

“…You’re really pretty, ma’am.”

“You’re really fucking lucky I don’t like shooting pretty things.”

“Are you sure you don’t?” he asked, calm and a little smug. “You looked like you liked shooting that guy.”

You stepped into him. His back hit the door.

“You’re brave when the mask is off.”

His mouth twitched. “Maybe I’m just feeling safe.”

“Don’t push it,” you said, but your voice was low. Curious. Your hand came up and toyed with the zipper of his red uniform. “Tell me. When I shot him… what were you feeling?”

He licked his lips, quiet for a moment.

“Relieved,” he said honestly. “And a little turned on.”

You grinned. “Brat.”

“I’m tall. I can get away with it.”

“No,” you murmured, leaning in closer, your mouth nearly brushing his. “You get away with it because I let you.”

Then your hand dropped—quick, sharp—and palmed the front of his open uniform.

He gasped.

You cupped him through the black fabric of his underlayers, feeling how half-hard he already was from the tension, from you. You didn’t move your hand. You just held him there, smirking as his lips parted with a soft sound.

“Still feeling safe, 13?”

He looked down at you from beneath those long lashes, his breath a little shaky.

“Not really,” he said. “But I still want to kiss you.”

You raised a brow.

He leaned down slowly—giving you the chance to stop him. But you didn’t.

You let his mouth hover above yours, his breath warm, his lips nearly brushing as you pressed your hand harder against his cock. He choked back a soft noise.

“Beg for it,” you whispered.

He swallowed.

“…Please.”

You kissed him. Not rough. Not sweet. Hungry.

He moaned into it, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure where to put them. You kept one hand on his chest—just to feel the rhythm of his heart hammering—and the other still cupping him firmly, thumb dragging slow pressure up his length through the fabric.

When you pulled back, he was flushed and blinking.

You grinned.

“You’ll report to me from now on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mask on when I say. Clothes off when I want.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

“And next time?” you said, your voice lower now, smug. “You don’t wait for permission to get hard thinking about me.”

He smiled, breathless.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You had him backed against your desk again.

His uniform was halfway unzipped, body flushed under the red fabric. You hadn’t even taken your gloves off yet—but your hand was already stuffed down the front of his pants, knuckles brushing against warm, twitching skin.

“I told you to stand still,” you said sharply.

“I am standing still,” Dae-ho replied, that soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re squirming.”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants. Kind of hard not to.”

That bratty tone again. Sweet, calm, but poking at you like he wanted to see how far he could push.

So you pushed back. Your grip tightened around his cock.

He choked on a moan, head thunking lightly back against the wall. “Okay—okay, fuck, I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re not.”

He laughed breathlessly. “No. I’m really not.”

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the side of his jaw. “You think just because I let you kiss me yesterday, you get to act cute now?”

He tilted his head toward you, face soft, gaze defiant. “I think you like it when I act cute.”

Your mouth ghosted over his ear. “I like it when you shut up and listen.”

He shivered.

Your hand stroked slowly now, mean and steady, dragging small whimpers from his throat. His hips tried to rock forward—you shoved him back with a firm palm on his chest.

“Don’t move,” you warned again. “Or you won’t come at all.”

“Ma’am—”

But then— BZZZZT.

The emergency alert on your desk screen blinked red. You yanked your hand out of his pants, stepping back as a voice crackled through the speaker:

“Black Guard. Report—Frontman is approaching your corridor.”

Your blood iced. You and Dae-ho stared at each other, faces inches apart.

“…Shit.”

You grabbed your black mask, snapping it down fast over your face. Dae-ho fumbled with his own, the hood slipping awkwardly back into place as he zipped up his uniform just in time.

You both stood there. He looked so stiff you thought he might actually pass out.

The office door slid open.

“Black Guard.”

The Frontman’s voice was low. Metallic. As unreadable as always.

You bowed your head.

He stepped in slowly, towering, the mask emotionless as always. His gaze swept across the room. Then—

“…What is Guard 13 doing here?”

Silence.

You spoke. Calm. Sharp. “Reporting for reassignment.”

A pause.

The Frontman’s gaze lingered on Dae-ho. “He’s not your usual type.“

Your stomach tensed. But you didn’t flinch.

“I take what I’m given,” you replied.

“Do you?”

Dae-ho didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You could feel how hard he was still trying to stay still—how his half-stiff cock was probably pressing uncomfortably in the wrong direction beneath the uniform.

“…Hmm,” the Frontman murmured. “If he underperforms, I’ll reassign him permanently. Don’t get attached.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door closed behind him. Gone.

You didn’t move for five seconds. Ten.

Then— You turned slowly toward Dae-ho.

He exhaled, mask still on, voice muffled and breathless. “That was—fuck—that was so close.”

You stepped into him again. Your hand slid back down—no warmth this time. Just pressure. Just command.

“I should punish you,” you said flatly.

He swallowed. “You gonna?”

“Oh, I will. Later.”

He let out a soft, bratty laugh through the mask. “Can I ask something?”

“What?”

“Did he know?”

You pressed your palm harder against him. “He knows everything.“

“…Oh.”

You leaned in until your mouth hovered right over his covered face.

“Next time, if you squirm while I’m jerking you off during an emergency call—”

Your grip tightened.

“—you’re coming with the mask on, and I’m not helping you clean up.”

He whimpered.

The control room buzzed quietly, cold light flickering over polished metal and heavy screens. A sea of red figures moved across the monitors—guards, players, blood, order, chaos.

The Frontman stood tall beside you. Still. Silent.

So were you.

But your eyes weren’t on the game.

Not really.

You were watching him. Guard 13.

Even masked, even anonymous in a sea of red, you could spot him immediately. The way he moved. The way he stood straighter than the others. The way he looked at people like he was still someone.

He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t reckless. He just… drew your eye.

You didn’t mean to stare. But you also didn’t stop.

The Frontman’s voice broke the silence.

“You’ve been watching 13 a lot.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just leaned a little closer to the screen where Dae-ho’s tall frame moved through the crowd, carefully pulling two players apart before their fists could land.

The Frontman turned his head toward you.

“Is he yours now?”

You shrugged. “He’s efficient.”

A pause.

“Mm. Right.”

There was amusement in his voice. A touch of challenge. But he didn’t press.

Another monitor blinked red.

One of the players had shoved another to the ground, boot on their throat, screaming something incoherent. The other guards were slow to act. One flinched back. Another raised a rifle—but the tension was spiraling.

The Frontman tilted his head toward you.

“Go down. Remind them how fast death comes.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t nod.

You just turned.

Your boots echoed once down the service stairwell.

You didn’t take the elevator.

You didn’t need backup.

The pistol sat comfortably on your hip, low-slung and polished. There was a machine gun in your office—still racked, untouched. You didn’t need it.

You were faster with one shot.

The heavy game floor door opened with a hiss.

The air inside was thick with shouting. Panic. The scuffle had only grown—players circling, two bleeding, a guard trying to pull one back by the collar.

But the second you stepped in, silence rippled through the room.

You didn’t say a word.

Your mask gleamed black under the harsh lights. Your body calm. Tall. Still. A shadow by the door.

And your hand rested casually at your side—fingers just grazing the holstered pistol.

Guard 13 turned slightly. You saw it in the angle of his shoulders. He clocked you immediately. Still masked, still unreadable. But his posture shifted.

Like he stood a little taller.

The room quieted fast.

Even the aggressive player dropped his arms. No one wanted to test the Black Guard. You didn’t need threats. You didn’t even need to move.

You were a reminder.

That one pull of your trigger could end a name.

You leaned against the doorframe.

And watched. Only one pair of eyes mattered.

And his were already on you.

The sleeping hall was dim and cold, echoing with slow footsteps.

Players lined up in threes and fours, heading for the food tables. Dinner distribution always brought tension—but tonight, something was different.

You stood in the upper surveillance deck, shoulder to shoulder with the Frontman, watching the feed from behind the one-way glass. Guards lined the walls below. Everything looked the same.

But your eyes locked on them.

Not one. Not two. All of them. The players weren’t fighting. They weren’t panicking.

They were communicating.

A glance. A nod. A pause in line to let someone else catch up. No one looking directly at each other—but they moved like they were meant to gather. Like they’d rehearsed it in silence.

You leaned forward slightly, masked and still.

Your voice barely left your throat.

“…They’re planning something.”

The Frontman turned his head a fraction toward you. You didn’t see his eyes, but you felt his focus sharpen.

“They think no one will notice outside of the games,” you added, more to yourself. “They’re wrong.”

A heavy silence settled.

Then his voice, low and even: “We’ll watch.”

Your gaze didn’t waver from the glass. Players were getting closer to the food now. Moving too close. Too tight.

One shoved another—friendly on the surface. But your eyes narrowed.

This wasn’t chaos. This was coordination.

You didn’t speak again. You didn’t need to.

Your hand was already resting against your pistol holster. Not grabbing. Just… touching.

Ready.

The Frontman finally spoke again. Quieter.

“We’ll reinforce with guards.”

“I’ll go.”

He paused. Measured.

“Careful.”

You didn’t look at him.

“I don’t need careful.”

And just like that, you turned.

Boots sharp. Body controlled. Mask glinting black as you disappeared into the hallway.

Down below, in the shadows of the sleeping hall, Guard 13 stood along the wall—still, composed.

But he saw the shift in movement. He saw the Frontman glance up.

And when you appeared at the far door, pistol strapped low on your thigh, mask on, back straight— He knew.

You weren’t just watching anymore. You were waiting.

The sleeping hall was humming with low noise—fabric shifting, shoes scuffing, trays clinking.

It wasn’t loud. But it was wrong.

You stood behind the viewing panel, masked, still. The Frontman had retreated back through the secure door behind you, trusting your presence to speak loud enough.

It did.

Below, the players were lined up for food—but they weren’t acting hungry anymore. They were stalling. Waiting. Lurking behind one another. Watching the guards.

Two players shifted closer to the back wall. One had a spoon. Another—no, a fork. Gripped tight.

You saw it.

Another bumped into a guard. Not accidental. A hand grazed too close to a rifle.

The moment crystallized.

You stepped away from the glass. The doors below hissed open.

You entered. Boots slow. Mask on. Pistol still holstered.

For three seconds, no one noticed you’d walked in.

Then your presence hit the room like a wave of static.

Guard 13 was the first to turn. His shoulders tensed. He didn’t move, but he tracked you like gravity itself shifted.

The players hesitated.

Then—one moved. A fork raised.

A hand reaching for a rifle— CRACK.

One shot. Echoing. Shattering. Splintering calm.

The bullet didn’t hit anyone. It didn’t need to.

It tore through the steel ceiling with deadly precision.

Every player dropped to a crouch. Trays hit the floor. Some screamed. A few ran backward.

But you stood still—arm extended, gun raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

And when you spoke— You didn’t yell. You didn’t growl.

You said it like a teacher correcting posture.

“If any of you touch another weapon, I will shoot to kill. And I don’t miss.”

The words hung in the air like gunpowder. Dry. Cold. Heavy.

You didn’t look at anyone directly—but they all felt seen.

You holstered the pistol with the same elegance you’d draw a knife.

No dramatics. Just precision.

You stepped farther into the room. The crowd parted instinctively. Even the guards stayed frozen.

Except one.

Dae-ho stood rigid near the left wall, eyes locked on you behind his mask.

He’d seen you from the control room. Followed your movements. Felt your hand in his pants, your voice in his ear.

But now?

He realized what you were.

Not just the Black Guard. Not just the Frontman’s second.

You were death walking in a tailored uniform.

And still— he couldn’t stop watching you.

The room was nearly silent.

Only the hum of the monitors, the low buzz of electricity, and the soft clink of glass.

You sat in your chair—legs crossed, eyes lit faintly by the glow of the screens. Mask off. The room belonged to you. The hour belonged to you.

The bottle of whiskey on your desk was three fingers lower than when the games ended.

You lifted your glass, sipped once. Sharp. Warm. Clean.

Your eyes drifted to a familiar screen.

Guard 13.

Still awake. Still in full uniform, mask off, sitting at the edge of his narrow bed like sleep was something he didn’t deserve.

The hallway was dark.

But the camera saw everything.

He hadn’t moved for twenty minutes. Just sat there—staring at the floor. You watched him. You reached for the control panel. One hand on your glass.

Your fingers tapped the manual override.

Click.

Then again.

Click.

One last time.

Click.

A soft metallic signal. His door unlocked.

On the screen, his head lifted. Just barely.

He looked straight at the camera. He knew.

You didn’t send for him. You didn’t need to.

He stood. No panic. No hesitation.

He pulled his mask back on—out of habit or obedience, maybe both—and stepped into the hallway, letting the door shut behind him.

And now—

He was coming.

Your lips curved around the edge of your glass.

You let the taste settle on your tongue as the elevator whirred softly in the shaft.

Then— Ping. A sharp chime from your secondary monitor.

One movement alert. Just outside your elevator.

You frowned.

Your fingers danced over the panel again. Switching cameras. Scanning the outer corridor.

Nothing visible. Yet. But something was there.

Your glass lowered slowly. The warmth in your stomach began to cool.

You reached for your pistol again. Just in case.

And you waited. One knock at the door.

You turned your head. No fear. Just calculation.

It opened. Guard 13 stepped inside, mask on, calm. His presence filled the room like heat against steel.

He paused. Reading you. Reading the room.

You looked up at him. Something between a smirk and a warning in your eyes.

“…Lock it,” you said.

He did. And behind the sealed door, you sat back, pistol resting on the table.

Something was coming. But so was he.

You just watched him. Guard 13. Your silent indulgence. Your most dangerous curiosity. But tonight—

He was different. He turned the lock himself. Slow. Loud. Purposeful. And then he walked toward you—not hesitant, not shy, not small. Broad shoulders, blood-warm confidence. Still masked.

You stayed seated. Your pistol rested on the desk. One hand wrapped around your glass. The other draped loose on the armrest.

You tilted your head, a faint smile playing at your mouth.

“Close it,” you said.

“I already did,” he answered—low, calm.

And then— His hands lifted to his mask.

You watched the way his fingers curled under the edges, the way he paused—not for fear, but for effect.

He pulled it off. Your chest rose once. Slowly.

Those warm brown eyes found yours immediately. No flicker. No question.

“You always watch me like you’re above it,” he said, voice softer now. Dangerous in a new way. “But you called me here.”

“And?”

He took one step closer. “I’m not leaving until you look at me without that gun between us.”

Your fingers grazed the pistol without gripping it. You smirked. “I don’t need a gun to put you on your knees.”

He smiled—but it wasn’t boyish. It was slow. Predatory.

“Then tell me to get on them.”

You didn’t. You leaned back instead. Let your legs part just a little. Invitation disguised as command. He walked toward you—slow, heavy steps—and your pulse dared to speed up.

He was close now. Between your legs. Looking down at you. Your thumb traced the edge of your whiskey glass, but your eyes were locked on his. One of his hands came up, fingers trailing over the open collar of your jacket. His touch was light—but intentional.

“Can I kiss you this time,” he asked, “or are you going to pretend you don’t want it again?”

You didn’t answer. Your eyes flicked to his mouth.

He leaned down, slow, slow, slow— PING.

The alert hit the air like a needle to a nerve.

Your head snapped to the side. Monitors lit up red.

Movement. Again. This time—closer. Right outside the hallway leading to your private level. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

But his hand dropped to your pistol, brushing your fingers, steadying them.

“I’ll handle it,” he said. You stood slowly. Close to his chest now. Breath to breath.

“No,” you murmured. “We’ll both handle it.”

You looked up at him—calm, sharp, loaded with something dangerous and new. He looked down at you, still breathless from your nearness, but steady. Solid. Ready.

For the first time, you didn’t just see his obedience. You saw the threat in him.

And you liked it.

The hallway was dark. Silent.

Red lights blinked low against the steel walls. The movement alert pulsed on your wrist screen like a countdown. You stalked forward in tandem—your pistol drawn, Dae-ho just half a step behind. Not hovering. Not protecting.

Moving with you. You didn’t speak. Neither did he. Every part of you burned with focus—finger tight on the trigger guard, eyes scanning the ceiling corners, the floor shadows, every vent and camera blind spot.

Footsteps. Soft. Uneven. Far ahead.

You raised your hand. He halted immediately. Your other hand flicked toward the far left junction—signal for cover. He understood instantly, sliding toward the corner, his hand now gripping his weapon with all calm and force.

Whoever was moving out there—they weren’t rushing. They were creeping. Too confident. Too careful.

Trying to get close to you.

You moved in low and silent, like smoke, pistol angled upward. A faint clang of metal echoed ahead.

You saw the edge of movement— A shape. A player.

Crouched in a gap between structural beams, gripping something sharp. Improvised blade. The second your steps gave them away, they lunged— Too fast.

But not faster than him.

He yanked you back hard just as the figure jumped, shoulder first, blade raised.

You grunted from the force—his arm wrapping fully around your waist, dragging you flush against his chest as he shoved you behind him.

One gunshot cracked. Not yours. His.

The attacker dropped mid-air.

Your back hit the wall—his body still covering yours like a shield. You froze for a heartbeat, panting, your wrist tight in his grip. Then you looked up. His eyes—dark, wide, furious.

Not at you. At whoever thought they could touch you.

Your voice was calm, despite your racing pulse.

“…I had it.”

He didn’t step back. “I know,” he said, breath close to your face. “But I didn’t care.”

You blinked. Heat bloomed low in your stomach.

Slowly, your hand rose. You pressed your palm to his chest. Felt it pounding. He looked down at you. Mask gone. Entirely exposed.

And for once— you didn’t tell him to step away.

You stood like that for a long second. The corpse at your feet. Your breath tangled together.

“You just risked your life for mine,” you murmured.

He tilted his head. “Maybe I wanted to.”

You let him stay close. Maybe you wanted to, too.

The elevator hummed low as it ascended.

You stood side by side—blood splattered faintly on your sleeves, the attacker long dead behind you.

Your pistol was still warm. His hands were still shaking.

But not from fear. From adrenaline. From you.

The doors opened into the security wing. You strode down the hallway in silence, boots heavy, energy buzzing under your skin.

He followed close behind. You didn’t notice the secondary lens embedded in the hallway wall. You didn’t see it blink. But somewhere, buried in the dark, he did.

The Frontman. Watching. As always.

And this time—he tilted his head.

“…Interesting,” he murmured to himself.

Click. Your office door slid shut behind you.

Clack. Locks engaged.

You turned, stepping toward the console—but he was already moving. Fast. Heavy.

You didn‘t even had time to set the pistol down before Dae-ho grabbed you.

One arm slid tight around your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck. Not to hurt. To hold. To pull.

He kissed you hard—mouth open, breath hot, lips crashing into yours like he’d been starving. You gasped, staggered slightly back as his body pressed flush against yours.

He was bigger. Stronger. But never used it. Until now.

Your hand instinctively reached toward your hip.

“You’re bold,” you murmured, letting your lips brush his again. “Careful, young man… my pistol’s still loaded.”

He smirked—sharp and low. “I’m not scared of it,” he breathed, voice deep against your throat. “Not when I’ve got you.”

His hand stayed wrapped around the nape of your neck, possessive. He bent slightly, forcing you to tilt your chin up.

Another kiss—slower this time. Controlled. Filthy.

When he pulled back, your lipstick smeared against his mouth, his breathing ragged.

“You’re always in control,” he said. “But not tonight.”

You licked your bottom lip. Smiled darkly.

“You think so?”

He nodded. “I know so.”

Behind the door, behind the screen, deep in the feed—

the Frontman watched. Still. Silent.

Zoomed in.

The Black Guard. And 13. Entangled. Exposed.

He didn’t interrupt. He just sat back. And waited.

Because this?

This wasn’t the end.

This was the beginning.

His hand was on your throat again—but not squeezing. Just owning. His breath warm against your jaw, his body pressing you back against the edge of your desk, making you feel the difference in size.

You let him. For a moment. His mouth trailed from your lips to your neck, stubble scraping your skin. His hips pressed between your thighs, rougher now, testing. Seeing how far he could go.

You didn’t stop him. Not yet.

“I like you like this,” he whispered, voice low and gravel-edged. “Off-guard. Letting me touch you.”

Your fingers slid slowly behind you. Reached for the holster on the edge of the desk.

He didn’t notice.

“You going to let me take control tonight?” he asked, forehead pressed to yours, hand moving down your thigh. “Let me have you, ma’am?”

You looked up at him. Your eyes didn’t blink. You didn’t smile.

You just held his gaze—sharp, deadly calm.

And then he heard it. Click.

The sound was so quiet it could’ve been a breath.

He froze. Your hand moved to the side of his hip, firm.

He looked down. The barrel of your pistol sat against the meat of his hipbone. Close. Heavy. Loaded.

You leaned in, lips ghosting his jaw.

“Told you,” you whispered, slow and smooth, “be careful, 13.”

He exhaled shakily. His cock twitched against you.

Your other hand slid up his chest, curling around the back of his neck. “You get one chance to try and top me,” you murmured, pressing the gun tighter, letting it drag slightly over the fabric. “After that, I own you again.”

He licked his lips, eyes locked on yours.

“…Can I kiss you first?” he asked, breathless.

You smirked. Pulled the gun back. Tossed it onto the desk with a controlled clatter. Then grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him like he belonged to you.

Because he did.

His back hit the desk hard. You pushed him, full force, hand fisted in the collar of his red uniform as you drove him back with a low grunt. He could’ve stopped you. He didn’t.

He didn’t want to. The desk rattled under his weight, and your body followed—climbing on top, straddling his hips with all the control he tried to steal a minute ago.

“Still think you’re in charge?” you asked, one brow raised.

His hands were already gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white, chest rising under the half-zipped suit. His dark eyes burned into yours.

“I think you want me to try.”

You smirked. “Cute.”

Your hands slid down his chest, slow, unzipping the rest of his uniform. The fabric peeled away to reveal warm skin, muscle tight beneath soft tension. His cock was already straining against the black underlayers, leaking through the fabric.

You sat heavier on him. Grinding slowly. Watching him try not to buck up into you.

“You’re already hard,” you murmured. “Pathetic.”

He let out a soft, shaky breath. “Can’t help it.“

“I didn’t say stop.”

You rocked again—slow, filthy pressure. Your clothed heat grinding against the soaked fabric of his bulge. Over and over. Just enough to ache. Not enough to give him anything real.

He groaned, head tilting back. Your hands grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“You don’t touch unless I tell you,” you breathed into his neck. “Got it?”

“…Yes.”

“Ma’am.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

Your fingers trailed down your own body now, unfastening your belt, tugging your pants down just enough. You weren’t even fully undressed—just open enough to ruin him.

You lifted your hips. He looked up—wide-eyed, panting.

“Don’t you dare come the second I sit on you,” you warned.

He nodded, mouth parted. You sank down slowly.

Fuck— His cock filled you in one long stretch, thick and hot, your body swallowing him inch by inch until your hips sat flush.

He whined. You didn’t move.

You just stared down at him, still fully clothed above the waist, still holding his wrists. Just sitting. Just owning.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Say who owns you.”

“…You do.”

“Say it right.”

“You own me, ma’am.”

Your body rolled once—tight, wet grind. He choked. You leaned down, kissed him hard, messy, teeth clashing.

And then you fucked him.

Not fast. Not sweet. Just hard, deep strokes—grinding, pulling back, slamming down again. Your hands stayed on his chest, his wrists pinned under your knees. You moved how you wanted—using him like the weapon he was.

And he loved it.

“Touch me,” you finally allowed, voice cracking.

He did immediately. Hands flying to your hips, grabbing, guiding, begging with his grip. You leaned forward and whispered filth into his mouth.

He came first—loud, shuddering, gasping into your skin.

You didn’t stop. You rode him through it, hips relentless, grinding, owning, until he was whimpering, overstimulated and pulsing, twitching under you.

You came with a hiss, pressed tight to his chest, biting his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Then silence. Only breathing.

His eyes dazed. Yours sharp. Both of you wrecked.

Your fingers curled around his jaw, dragging his eyes back up to yours.

“You ever try to top me again,” you whispered, “I’ll leave you like this. Leaking and begging.”

He nodded, breathless. “…Still worth it.”

You smirked.

God help you—you might let him try again.

A moment of silence. Then—

The alert screamed red across your monitor.

SECURITY BREACH: LEVEL 2.

Inside. Already inside. You didn’t grab your mask.

You didn’t zip your jacket. You grabbed your pistol and ran.

Behind you, 13 was already moving—half-dressed, face still flushed, pupils still blown from the orgasm you’d just ridden out of him. But the second you moved, he was on your heels.

“Where?” he asked breathlessly.

“Frontman,” you snapped, already slamming the security override on the elevator panel. “We get the call from him first.”

You both slammed into the elevator, side by side—sweat drying, clothes rumpled, hearts racing for an entirely different reason now.

The doors opened. And there he was.

In the command suite. Leaning back in his chair. Legs crossed. Mask nowhere to be seen.

Smiling.

“Nice show,” he said lazily, lifting a drink as if to toast you both.

Your jaw tightened. Your hair was still a mess. Your shirt stuck to your back. Dae-ho stood just behind you, chest still rising, lips red and bitten raw.

You stared the Frontman down.

“Fuck off,” you said.

He chuckled. “You finally cracked. I knew it would be him.”

You didn’t respond. You stepped further into the room, scanning the alert panels. Dae-ho followed like a shadow, now dead serious.

“Level 2 breach,” you muttered, eyes snapping across the wall of screens. “Multiple signals.”

The smile slid off the Frontman’s face. He stood.

The amusement vanished. “We’ve got motion in the lower armory,” he said. “Unscheduled. Cameras are offline in two halls. Sabotage.”

Your hand tightened around your pistol.

“I’ll take east wing,” you said.

Dae-ho stepped up beside you. “I’ll take the south corridors.”

The Frontman looked at you—still flushed, unmasked, more real than he’d ever seen you.

He didn’t grin this time. He just nodded.

“Put them down. No survivors. No hesitation.”

You didn’t flinch. “Good,” you muttered, spinning toward the exit. “I’m still loaded.”

Dae-ho didn’t say a word—but you could feel the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

And this time? You were hunting.

The emergency lights flashed red as you sprinted down the corridor.

Back to your office. Back to your gear.

You threw the door open. Dae-ho slammed it shut behind you.

Your jacket was already halfway off—shirt sticking to your skin, holster strap tossed across the chair from earlier. You grabbed it without pause.

Your mask was still on the console. You picked it up with one hand while the other flipped open your locked weapons drawer. Inside: your pistol, freshly cleaned. A handful of mags. Two knives.

You reached for the pistol first. Clicked the slide. Checked the mag. Loaded. You shoved it into the holster and wrapped it tight around your hips, clicking the buckle into place in one fluid motion.

Then you pulled the belt snug. Dead silent. Dead calm.

Dae-ho, behind you, had already unzipped his full uniform and pulled on a tactical harness. The machine gun strapped across his chest like it belonged there. His fingers flew across the weapon—checking ammo, adjusting the sling.

And then he turned.

Saw you— Shoulders squared, pistol holstered, mask in one hand, and your fingers curling around the hilt of a blade.

Not flashy. Not decorative. Functional.

You tucked it into a sheath at your thigh like it was a second limb.

He gave a low, impressed whistle.

You turned your head just slightly, catching him over your shoulder.

That same grin from earlier— Wicked. Cold. Confident.

“I’m silent.”

He stared at you. Then licked his lips, grin returning.

“Yeah,” he said. “But not earlier.”

You grabbed your mask, pulled it down over your face.

Voice muffled. Sharp. “Keep up, 13.”

He didn’t need telling twice.

The facility lights flashed blood-red above your heads.

You moved like ghosts. Black and red uniforms blurring through corridor after corridor. The air buzzed with the smell of steel, sweat, electricity.

You said nothing. You didn’t need to.

Dae-ho stayed just to your right—his machine gun slung across his chest, his eyes sharp under the mask, every movement practiced and silent. You held your pistol low and tight. Smooth. One hand steady on your thigh knife.

You reached the junction. “Split,” you said, curt and precise.

He nodded. “I’ll clear the western wing.”

You disappeared down the left path—boots soundless. Gun raised. Every corner cleared in one swift glance.

But two halls down— A noise. Not yours. Not his.

Too close.

You turned immediately, boots reversing direction, pistol already raised— Just as the muffled grunt echoed down the corridor.

You turned the corner fast. 13 was mid-struggle.

A rogue figure had lunged from behind the vent panel—caught him with a knife at his neck, arm locked tight around his chest. His machine gun had clattered to the floor, out of reach.

He was holding the attacker’s wrist back with one hand, teeth gritted under the mask. His eyes flicked to you.

You didn’t run. You didn’t say a word.

You stepped up. Calm. Silent.

And fired one shot. Right into the skull.

The body dropped behind him like dead weight, blood splashing across the wall. Dae-ho stood panting, blade inches from where it could’ve pierced his throat.

Silence. The heat between you and the smoking barrel was the only thing that moved.

Then his voice came, low and muffled through the mask.

“…Thanks.”

You holstered your pistol without looking at him. Your head tilted slightly.

“You owe me dinner.” And then you walked past him, just as calm as you arrived.

He stared after you for half a beat—then jogged to catch up, heart pounding harder from you than the attack.

The last body hit the floor with a dull thud.

The alarms flickered once—then died. The red lights stopped pulsing. Emergency lockdown triggered behind you with a final, shuddering clang.

It was done.

You lowered your pistol. Dae-ho slung his weapon across his back with one slow, shaking breath. You both stood in the stillness, the scent of smoke and gunpowder still clinging to your skin.

For a moment, you didn’t move.

Your muscles twitched under the weight of adrenaline. Your wrists were sore from how tight you’d gripped the pistol. His knuckles were scraped raw.

And still—neither of you looked at each other.

Not yet.

Your office door slid open with its usual mechanical hiss, quieter now.

The room was dim, only the glow of a few surveillance monitors flickering like embers.

You stepped in first. He followed.

The door locked behind you with a gentle clack. Neither of you spoke. You unholstered your weapon, set it down.

Unstrapped the knife. Pulled off the gloves.

Sat.

He stood across from you, machine gun still hanging against his chest, his shoulders stiff, still too alert.

You glanced up at him.

He hadn’t taken his mask off. Neither had you.

The quiet pressed between you like a loaded trigger.

And then—he moved.

Across the room. Slow. Controlled. Not to a chair. To you.

He stopped in front of you.

You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at him.

Your body still hummed with tension.

He lifted his hands. And slowly—carefully—reached for your mask.

You didn’t stop him.

His fingers brushed the edges, pausing just long enough to give you the chance to say no.

You didn’t. He pulled it off.

Revealing your face—slicked with sweat, dusted with dried blood at the hairline, eyes still sharp, lips pressed together.

But your jaw relaxed. You let him see you.

Your voice was quiet. Hoarse from the smoke.

“…You good?”

He nodded, eyes scanning your face like he was afraid it’d vanish.

“You?”

You nodded back.

He knelt in front of you. One hand bracing on your thigh—not for control, not for anything rough. Just there.

“You saved me,” he murmured. “Twice.”

“I do that,” you said.

His lips twitched. “You gonna keep doing that?”

Your fingers brushed back the strands of hair clinging to your cheek.

“Only if you keep letting me.”

He smiled.

And for the first time since the alarms started, you exhaled.

The light in the bathroom was soft—too soft for what you’d just done. Steam fogged the mirror already. The water hissed quietly in the background, splashing against porcelain. You didn’t speak.

Your holster and jacket were already on the counter. Your gloves long discarded.

Dae-ho stood at the sink, mask off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, red soaking through the thin fabric. Not his blood. Not yours. Just the kind that clung to both of you now.

You stepped beside him and turned to the mirror.

He watched your reflection.

You didn’t flinch as you peeled the black undershirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath—bruises forming on your shoulder. A shallow scratch across your side. The kind of pain you wouldn’t feel until morning.

You turned on the faucet. Cupped water in your hands. Rubbed it slowly over your face.

He watched. Didn’t speak.

He stepped behind you. Not close. Just there.

His voice came quiet, roughened by smoke and restraint.

“Can I help?”

You paused. Met his gaze in the mirror. Then nodded.

He moved closer. His hands—strong, warm—reached for the soaked towel on the sink. He ran it gently down your back. Shoulder to hip. Not pressing. Not touching skin like it was soft.

Touching it like it mattered.

You braced one hand on the sink. Let him move.

He cleaned the scratch on your ribs with careful fingers, breath catching slightly when you flinched.

“Sorry.”

You just shook your head.

“You scare the shit out of me,” he said suddenly, voice low. “The way you moved. The way you didn’t even blink when you shot that guy off me.”

You looked at him in the mirror again. “That scare you?”

“No,” he said immediately. “That you might stop.”

Your breath caught. You turned.

Face to face. Steam curling between your bare arms. His shirt clinging to his chest. Your skin still glistening under the water.

He reached up, slowly. Fingers brushed your temple. Then your jaw.

Then, tenderly—he touched your face with both hands and leaned in.

He pressed his forehead to yours.

Neither of you spoke. No one needed to.

You were supposed to be sleeping.

Both of you.

The mission was over. Blood cleaned. Weapons holstered. You’d collapsed into the armchair, still damp from the shower, hair tied back, pistol resting on the nightstand.

Dae-ho sat on the edge of your bed, head tilted, still watching you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And when you looked up at him— That was it.

The kiss was hot. Desperate.

Your mouth dragged across his, open and needy, teeth clashing, breath shallow. He groaned against your lips as you straddled him again, hands sliding up under his shirt, tugging at the fabric with impatience.

His hands were already gripping your thighs—tight, reverent, hungry. He pulled your shirt halfway over your head before you stopped him.

“Wait.” Your voice was breathless. Firm.

He froze. You stood up.

Your bare feet padded silently across the floor toward the console shelf near your bed.

Dae-ho sat up, confused. “Did I—”

You didn’t answer. You picked up your gun.

He flinched slightly—reflex. That survival instinct he couldn’t shake around you.

But then you looked straight up. Toward the ceiling corner.

You could feel it. The eye.

Buried in the wall, tucked like a parasite. Subtle. Silent. Watching.

You raised the pistol casually, one arm loose at your side.

Your eyes found the camera.

You winked. “Sorry,” you said, voice soft and sharp, “not today.”

CRACK. One perfect shot.

The lens shattered in a spray of sparks and broken glass.

In the Frontman’s control suite, the feed cut to black with a final flicker.

He stared at the screen.

Dead.

Silent.

And then— He laughed.

Back in your room, you turned slowly.

Dae-ho stared up at you, lips parted, eyes wide, visibly harder than he’d been a moment ago.

“Holy fuck.”

You smirked. Weapon still warm in your hand, you sauntered back to him—cool, predatory, free.

You let the pistol drop onto the sheets beside you.

“Now,” you murmured, straddling him again, voice low against his ear, “where were we?”

Your gun clattered to the bed. Dae-ho looked up at you like you just pulled the moon out of the sky.

Your legs slid over his hips as you straddled him again—bare skin meeting the thin fabric of his boxers, your thighs flexing with slow precision as you pressed your weight down on his lap.

“Oh shit,” he whispered again, his voice already breathless.

“You still thinking about that shot,” you asked, grinding slowly into him, “or you finally ready to shut up and moan for me?”

He whimpered softly, fingers twitching against the sheets.

“I—fuck—ma’am—”

“Use my name,” you said, leaning in, your breath brushing his ear.

He swallowed, chest heaving. “Please…”

Your hand slid down between your bodies, fingers curling into the waistband of his boxers. You peeled them down just enough to free his cock—already flushed and leaking, twitching with every small movement of your hips.

“God,” you murmured, dragging your fingers slowly along the length of him, just enough to make him gasp. “So fucking hard .”

“Always,” he whispered.

You kissed him once—hard, deep, wet—and then sat back, shifting your hips to line yourself up.

He looked down, eyes wide as you slid the tip against your folds.

And then you sank down. Slowly.

He cried out. Hands flying to your thighs like he needed to hold onto something or fall apart.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

You bottomed out with a slow grind, your head tilted back, riding the stretch with a sharp exhale.

His whole body trembled.

You looked down at him. “Don’t move.”

He whined. Whined. “I can’t—please—”

You clenched around him on purpose. His hips jerked. You slapped his thigh, not hard—but sharp.

“I said don’t move.”

He nodded frantically, hands gripping the sheets now instead of your body. Sweat slicked his chest, his neck, his lips parted and panting.

You started to move. Slow. Deep. Torturous.

Your pace was exact. Measured. Down to the second.

You gripped his jaw, made him look at you.

“Look at me while I fuck you.”

He did. God, he did.

You bounced, rolled, clenched, dragged your wet heat up and down his cock like you were made for it—and every time he moaned, you smiled.

“You’re so loud, 13,” you whispered, licking into his mouth. “So desperate. Cute.”

He nodded, eyes glassy. “Please—I need to come—please—I can’t—”

You rocked faster.

He sobbed. “Fuck, I’m gonna—please—”

You stopped. Fully.

Sat still on his cock and watched him break.

He whined. Desperate. Hips twitching up into you. Voice wrecked.

You grabbed his face. Made him hold eye contact.

“You come when I say. Understand?”

“Y-Yes, yes ma’am—just don’t stop—”

You fucked him again. Harder this time. Meaner. Messier. His hands flew to your hips, nails digging in, body trembling like he couldn’t take it.

“Good boy.”

He came with a cry—whole body shuddering, back arching off the bed, your name falling off his lips like a prayer.

You didn’t stop.

You kept riding him—slow and wet and deep—until you came, teeth sunk into his neck, whispering “mine, mine, mine” against his skin.

When it was over, you stayed there.

Still full of him. Still breathing hard.

You pulled back just enough to see his face—flushed, damp, smiling softly under hooded eyes.

“…Ma’am?”

“Hmm?”

“Next time you shoot out a camera,” he whispered, voice hoarse and fucked out, “warn me.”

You grinned, breath still short.

“No fun in that.”

The air was thick with the heat of you both.

Your sweat. His breath. The sting of exertion still curled deep in your muscles.

You sat back slowly, hips lifting—pulling off of him with a quiet wet sound that made him groan, low and broken. His hands slid down your thighs instinctively, like he hated the distance already.

But you didn’t go far.

You grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it over both of you, crawling back onto the mattress beside him, bare legs tangling with his. He rolled into you almost instantly, head pressing into your shoulder, one arm sliding across your waist, the other curling beneath your neck.

Your hand rested in his damp hair. You combed through it slowly.

He was warm. Heavy. Still catching his breath.

His lips brushed your collarbone once. Then again.

You tilted your head just enough to kiss his hair, your fingers drifting down his spine.

No words. Just him, wrapped around you like gravity.

The room was dark except for the soft flicker of the monitor light in the far corner. A small blue glow. Nothing else.

No cameras. No masks. No rules.

You felt him shift, nuzzling in closer. His leg hooked over yours, strong thigh pinning you slightly, like he needed to feel every part of you at once.

He exhaled. “…Mmh.”

You hummed in response. Content. Eyes closing.

His hand flattened over your stomach. Warm. Still. Steady.

You stayed like that.

Tangled. Bare.

Both of you finally—

Quiet.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

also open for requests 🫰🏻

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 22 hours ago

Note

I'm sorry, this is my last request 🙈🥺

I have this gif in my head and I can’t stop thinking about it 🫠 (please a lot of fluff, can be a bit steamy too)

Uhm can I please request something with beefy Bucky x shy reader where they are having their 3rd date and they are simply hitting it off and he is charming and soft (maybe even flirts). Bucky just knew that the reader is the right person, she sees him as James (Bucky) Barnes and not the winter soldier. He fell in love with her, little does he know that she fell for him too. Later he walks her home by a beautiful sunset. The reader invited him into her apartment. They are still talking and then he leans in, asks for permission and then he kisses her, at first soft and then it gets heated but then the reader breaks the kiss and tells him that she is in love with him and that he is her first boyfriend. Bucky confesses his feelings for her too 🥺❤️

I got carried away, uhm thank you so much 🥺

Hitting It Off » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Shy!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky hit it off on the 3rd date.

Warnings: mostly Fluff, little bit of implied Smut (18+), language, kissing (more like making out (18+) 🤭), pet names

A/N: @jackys-stuff-blog thank you for another lovely request🩵 also, thank you for making me melt with that gif🫠

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star / divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“Sorry if I look nervous.” You apologized shyly.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, doll. I get it. Dates are nerve wracking.” Bucky says softly.

You and Bucky are on a third date. Everything is going great with you guys. You two just finished dinner and now you two are taking a walk through the park.

“Do you- Do you want to sit down and watch the sunset?” You asked nervously.

“I would love to.” He smiles.

You and Bucky sat down on a nearby bench to watch the sunset. Bucky rested his arm on the back of the bench along your shoulders.

“The colors are so pretty. Don’t you think?” You say as you admired the sunset.

“It is, but I have a prettier view right next to me.” Bucky says flirtatiously.

You blushed and giggled. Bucky flirts with you every chance he gets. He flirts with you in person and on the phone.

“You’re very pretty.” He compliments softly.

“Thank- Thank you.” You stuttered and blushed.

“You’re cute when you blush.” He compliments again.

Now you’re a blushing mess.

“You know…” Bucky begins. “I really enjoy hanging out with you. You’re an amazing person.” He says.

“I-I enjoy hangout with you too, Bucky. I think you’re handsome.” You say.

“You think I’m handsome?” He asks.

You smiled and nodded.

“I think you’re gorgeous, doll.” He compliments.

Bucky caught himself looking at your lips a minute too long after complimenting you. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he wants to wait. He doesn’t mind PDA. He just wants to be a gentleman about it and wait until you two are behind closed doors.

“Do you- Do you want to go to my apartment and hangout?” You asked.

“I would love that.” Bucky answers.

Bucky stood up and held his hand out for you, you put your hand in his and stood up from the bench. You two walked hand and hand to your apartment. Bucky, being the gentleman he is, unlocked the door to your apartment.

“Thank you for inviting me over.” Bucky says.

“Oh- you’re welcome.” You say.

Bucky looks around as you put your purse and keys on the table.

“You have a lovely apartment.” He compliments softly.

“Thank you.” You say.

Bucky gives you a smile as a you’re welcome.

“So- umm- what- what do you want to do for our next date?” You asked.

“I’m fine with anything. It can be as basic as getting coffee or we can go away for the weekend.” Bucky says.

“Ok.” You replied.

You thought to yourself. A coffee date for the fourth date is cute, right? It’s doesn’t put too much pressure on both of you.

“Can I- Can I kiss you?” Bucky asks like a nervous teenager.

“Oh- yes.” You answered shyly.

Bucky gently cupped your cheeks and gazed deeply in your eyes. He dipped his head down just enough to kiss you. The kiss was sweet and passionate. His lips felt soft against yours. Your hands grasped onto his jacket, clutching the material in your hands. The kiss got heated after a few seconds. Bucky carefully backed you up towards the wall. You tugged on his jacket, wanting it off. Bucky let go of your face to take off his jacket, dropping on the floor. Your hands grasped onto his black t-shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands. You break the kiss and stared in his blue eyes for a few seconds before saying anything. What you’re about to say is either how you really feel about Bucky or the heat of the moment. Maybe it’s a mix of both. Either or, Bucky is feeling the same way.

“I’m in love with you.” You blurted out.

Your eyes went wide when you realized what you just said.

“Oh my god! I-I am so sorry! I didn’t- I didn’t- mean to say that out loud!” You say, stuttering out of shyness.

“I’m in love with you too.” Bucky confesses.

“You are?” You asked.

“I have been since our first date.” He says.

You smiled at him. Blush crept up on your cheeks for what you’re about to say to him next.

“Can I- Can I admit something to?” You shyly asked.

“Of course you can.” Bucky replies.

“You’re- You’re my first boyfriend.” You shyly tell him.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He just smiles at you.

“I’m your boyfriend?” He asks, the smile remaining on his face.

“Oh- umm- I didn’t meant to jump the gun. I just- I just really love you and I wouldn’t mind if you were my boyfriend.” You shyly confessed.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He kissed you again. This time, the kiss was soft and sweet.

“I would love to be your boyfriend.” Bucky says softly.

“Really?” You asked.

“Of course. I’ve been wanting us go become official for a while now.” He admits.

“Me too.” You admitted.

Bucky smiles and kisses you.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky whispers softly against your lips.

“I love you too, Bucky Bear.” You whispered softly back.

-Bucky’s Doll

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kiraplex · 17 hours ago

Note

Hii! Could i request all variants x gn!reader sfw headcanons, where they realize reader already have a different partner in the main universe?

Mark Variants x gn!reader with a partner in their universe

includes: Sinister, Viltrumite, Mohawk, Prisoner, Full mask / Phantom, Omni Mark, Shiesty, No goggles / Lenseless, Target / emperor. W/C: 2,204 words A/N: sorry this took a long time !! To be honest I was kind of feeling down about how few notes my other post got.. nevertheless, this was fun to write, and I hope it gets some attention ^-^ Tw’s: Canon typical violence, stalking, manipulation, kidnapping, the marks being the marks tbh

★ Sinister Mark

no. lol��

“Awww, you think I care about that? That’s cute”

I don’t even think he’d be hurt like some of the other marks would be, he knew it was a possibility. And he’d already planned how to take care of it.

Before you even get the chance to respond to his earlier comment he flies off, fast - faster than the mark from your universe, even - and finds your partner, returning with them almost immediately, dangling by the neck. Maybe he dangles them out of a window, or off a roof, or maybe he just holds them in the air where he is, grip on their neck so tight it leaves bruises. Either way! It’s clear he means business.

“I’ll cut you a break. you agree to date me, I’ll let them live!”

If you keep resisting and refusing, well, I’m sure you can guess what happens. Despite all your desperate please and thrown insults your partners blood is now splattered across the street where mark dropped them.

He picks you up, and flies you somewhere remote. You’re dating him now!

And if you relent? Beg for your partners life? He kills them anyway. And enjoys it too, licking the blood off his hands when done. He tried to be reasonable, really. But what business does this person have being loved so dearly by you? That role should be reserved for him!

He knows you’ll thank him eventually.

He’ll treat you well. At least, well by his standards.

★ Viltrumite Mark

hm. This wasn’t expected.

He doesn’t react much externally when you tell him you’re taken, but internally his mind is whirring. Another partner? Earth courting customs are so complicated, he really doesn’t understand.. can’t you see that he’s better than that human?

On viltrum mates are picked through strength and genetic compatibility. If there are multiple Viltrumites fighting for the right to breed with one person, that’s just what they do. They fight for it. And being Viltrumites, they don’t just fight until one surrenders of course. As was drilled into him since childhood, people who die deserved to die anyway, they were weak.

So he decides that he will fight for the right to you. He doesn’t just want to breed you of course - his devotion to you was made of much more substance than the typical relationship on viltrum, but it still stands.

And of course, he is much, MUCH stronger than whichever human you have chosen as your mate.

Whether they agree to fight him or not, soon they’re out of the way. He’s proven that he’s a superior mate.

So why do you still not want to date him? Maybe his father was right, humans are so complicated..

He’ll take you back to Viltrum with him, he’s sure you’ll adjust. He’ll treat you very well, and his mother will be glad to have another of her kind.

★ Mohawk Mark

this asshole would be such a dick about it.

You tell him you’re taken the first time and it doesn’t even seem to register with him.

“Great. Dinner at 7? I’ll pick you up”

What?? No, you reiterate once again that you have a boyfriend.

“I heard you the first time, dollface. See you at 7”

He smirks a shit eating from at you and flies off to god knows where, leaving you back where you were. And sure enough, at 7 he returns, landing on your front lawn and knocking on your windows.

He’s still wearing his suit, but it was stained with distinct dark red splotches, especially on the arms and gloves. You have a sinking feeling that you know whose blood it is..

Mohawk just stands there until it clicks with you and you react, grinning smug and wide at you, tilting his head.

“Aww, you look like a kicked puppy. What’s wrong?”

He grabs your wrist tight, pulling you closer to him. He leans down to your hight, grinning even wider. His breath smells of the distinct coppery scent of blood, which makes sense. You’re sure some of the blood on his gloves rubs off on you when he grabs you.

“So, how about that date?”

★ prisoner mark:

Fucking seriously? Just his luck

He spends thirteen months in a viltrumite prison, getting tortured until he looked like THAT, and the one person he thought of the whole time doesn’t even want him. Awesome. Of course.

Honestly I think deep down prisoner is self conscious, especially comparing himself to the other marks (he misses being handsome), or just any handsome person, so he’d be probably one of the most upset out of the marks. He doesn’t tell you, but somewhere he wonders if it’s because of his hideous appearance. Maybe if it were Mohawk, or sinister..

He doesn’t let himself dwell on it too long, drawing himself up to full hight, crossing his arms across his chest, showing off his frame - bulkier than the rest of the Marks.

He promises he’ll treat you well.

I don’t think this mark is as blood thirsty as the rest, he’s had more than his fill of blood and torture (most of it being done to him) so the best possible scenario he can imagine is the two of you in a nice cosy apartment away from the viltrumite empire, and everything else that could possibly hurt you.

He doesn’t beg, or yell, or threaten, he just stands there and tells you how it is. He’s going to take you home, and you’re going to have a nice peaceful life together.

And he does just that.

★ Phantom / full mask mark

He has the most “reasonable” first reaction.

Oh. He tells you he understands, but he just misses you so much. He only came to this universe for you and his mother. He really, really missed you. He doesn’t mean to guilt trip you but he’s just so sad.

From then on he follows you around like a lost puppy.

Turns up at your door with flowers and refuses to answer how he knows your address. But look, flowers and chocolate! And he got your favourite kind too, he remembers what you liked in his universe. Please just give him a chance.

It doesn’t matter if you reject him politely or slam the door on his face, the outcome is still the same.

He’s everywhere. Seriously, doesn’t this guy have better shit to do? (No.)

When you go out for groceries, when you go to collage or work, in the park when you take a walk. He’s not.. hurting you per se, he’s just everywhere that you are. He just wants to look at you! He just wants to be near you. Is that a crime?

And eventually, weeks after you first meet him, it happens.

A car accident. Your partner died in a car accident. Their family gets you the news.

You’re sure it was him. This version of mark. Who else could it be?

But when he turns up to your apartment again, giving you the same lost puppy look, somehow you just can’t find it in yourself to tell him to fuck off.

And as you cry in his arms and he plays with your hair, pulling his mask up to kiss you on the forehead, he’s the happiest he’s been in a long long time.

★ Omni mark

very straightforward about it.

He was aware this was a possibility. He understands, you’re attractive and it’s only natural that people would like to get involved with you romantically.

Still, there’s an almost imperceptible break in his calm demeanor as his jaw clenches at the thought of you being affectionate towards somebody who wasn’t him.

He simply can’t let that happen.

He tells you straight up, hovering half a foot above the ground, arms crossed across his broad chest. Looking down at you with a blank expression.

“Not anymore.”

He explains it to you in no uncertain terms - you’re his one attachment, his one weakness, the one metaphorical chink in his armour. He’s a viltrumite conqueror, he wasn’t supposed to have attachments like this, he’s violating his own code to come and tell you all this.

He just loves you that much.

And he can’t afford to have any weaknesses he can’t control. So either you agree to be his betrothed, or he kills you, simple as that. He’s sorry it has to come to this, but at least he gave you a choice.

It’s your choice what to do next. But if you don’t agree to date him, he gives you the mercy of a quick death. He even looks away when doing it, uncomfortable with seeing the actions he’s doing to his beloved.

★ Shiesty Mark

“what?! Fuck that!”

Second most angry Mark at the realisation you’re dating someone else.

Seriously? You’re rejecting him for some jagoff who can’t even fly? What the hell! No way he can stand for this. Are you stupid or what?

If it weren’t for the shiesty covering his you’d see his eye twitch and how he was

I don’t even think he’d give you the option or tell you before he killed the bitch you were dating. He’d just go for the kill immediately and plaster their brains all over the sidewalk. Your poor partner probably didn’t even see anything more than a blur of blue and yellow before it all ends.

Doesn’t feel guilty for it at ALL he’s still mad tbh

“Are you kidding? You’re upset? Fuck that guy! He’s not even a fraction of how great I am!”

Just like all the other marks, he picks you up and takes you with him whether you like it or not - he wants to take you back to his universe after all.

Despite his brash exterior I think he’s quite gentle (as gentle as someone like him can be) when he carries you. Despite your thrashing, he makes an effort not to break any of your bones or even bruise you too much, it makes him feel bad. He does love you after all. He thinks you should be grateful for this.

★ No goggles / Lenseless Mark

acts like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. He’s floating a few feet above you in the air, clutching his sides and laughing.

“You’re picking someone else over me? You’re a funny dude, dude.”

You have to tell him three times that you are not joking and you’re dating somebody else, and you’re not interested.

He still acts like it’s a joke even then, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Okay, okay, tell me about this Prince Charming of yours.”

No matter what you stutter out, he laughs again, telling you to hold that thought and dashing out into the sky, returning not long later with your partner dangling by his leg, marks ankle in his iron grip, still grinning, looking almost proud as he brings your partner to you, like a cat with a dead mouse.

“You like piñatas?”

Continues to find it funny when you beg and plead for your partners life. He can’t help it! Why are you so attached to this rando? You’ll end up dating him anyway, so why doesn’t he have fun with it? Can you blame a guy for having a good time?

Eventually puts your partner down and says if your partner can beat him in a duel he’ll let you two continue dating.

Well.

We know how that goes.

I think unlike viltrumite he drags the “duel” out, like a predator playing with its prey. He lets you go into another room if you don’t want to watch, he knows you can’t get far.

★ Target Mark / emperor Mark

gamer rage

I don’t think Target mark is used to being told no at ALL. He rules his own empire, he has slaves for his every whim, why are you, just some human, rejecting HIM? A viltrumite EMPEROR?

Of course you’re not just a human to him. Not just another slave. You’re you, of course.

But he doesn’t tell you that.

He doesn’t even bother to deal with your partner

He wouldn’t even keep your partner as a slave in his empire.

he just picks you up and flies away with you with practiced ease - despite how much time he spends ruling he isn’t out of practice or

You’ll make a great ruler with him, you can sit on his throne and you’ll have slaves of your own and you’ll live in nothing but luxury. You can even help execute rioters with him if you want! Really, you should be grateful.

#invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #x reader #mohawk mark x reader #Sinister mark x reader #Prisoner mark x reader #viltrumite mark x reader #full mask mark x reader #Viltrudih #I’m not tagging the rest

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berryzoey · 2 days ago

Note

Helloooo :P

could i perchance request my beautiful wives (Mira, Zoey and Mystery) who likes playing video games, specifically farming sims? i am a BIG Stardew Valley fan, and i force all my friends to play it with me (send help i have 100+ hours of the game played). i feel like Mira would enjoy mining while Zoey would enjoy foraging as well as gaining hearts w all the NPCs. plus!! in co-op you can marry the other person you’re playing with 👀

tysm <33

LOVE GROWS (WHERE MY ROSEMARY GOES)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : mira, zoey, mystery

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : playing stardew valley with their farming sim obsessed s/o

𝐚/𝐧 : sorry i’ve been letting requests marinate for a lil bit guys. it’s been forever since i played stardew valley. i think last time i played was 2-3 years ago? anyway, i love this idea! please enjoy. :)

𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀

One factor you and your girlfriend loved in particular about Stardew was mining; finding gems and other valuable items was thrilling, but there was something about it that made you enjoy it even more. You loved monster slaying.

Many of the other games you played included monster slaying, like Dark Souls and The Witcher, but when you needed to wind down you liked to play a bit of Stardew Valley. Farming simulators were your favorite, while Mira always liked more intense games; hence why you both liked to play it. Certain people like certain aspects more than others, but who cares?

As your girlfriend grabbed a picaxe, you grabbed your sword. “We need to check our daily luck.” She advised, or more like stated. It was a no-brainer when it came to a good mining trip.

“On it.”

Quickly, you ran to your tv to put on the correct channel. Patiently, you waited for the dialogue to appear, sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation. Then, finally. “Fortune teller says it’s good fortune today!” You cheered, immediately running out of your home and towards the mines.

“Perfect, let’s kick these monsters butts and get our loot!”

“Yeah!” You shouted as you threw a fist into the air, feeling pumped up by the energy your girlfriend was giving you. Her eyes widened, then her lips curled into a smirk. “Yeah!”

Then it became a game of who could scream louder and more excited:

“YEAH!”

“YEAHHHHH!!””

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Can you guys please quiet down?”

“Sorry, Bobby!”

───

𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐘

A heavy sigh was released from you as you gripped the joycons of your Switch, anxious for the future before you. This meant all or nothing, one would fall and one would rise. In your inventory were the right materials; goat cheese for your beloved sculptor, and crab cakes for your beloved writer. They were staring you right in your face, mocking you.

Now, one might say “Romance them both!”, why would you do that? Are you going to cheat on them at the same time? You’re going to have a love affair with both of them and then eventually break their hearts because it’s inevitable that you will get caught? Wow. Wow we wow.

While you could date more than one person in this game without consequence, the idea of actually doing it made the both of you feel awful. So, you decided you could only pick one. Finally, you spoke. “We must make a decision.”

“I agree.” Her voice wavered, just a bit. Enough for you to tell this was going to be harder than any other decision you’ve ever made.

For a beat, nothing was said. The weight of guilt rested upon your shoulders, dragging you and your girlfriend down along with it. It pained your soul, it felt like you were dying. “Leah or Elliot?” You whispered, staring intently at the amount of hearts each npc had.

Both had 9 hearts, each only needed one more interaction to bring it up to 10.

Zoey broke.

She laid her head on your shoulder, hiding the pained expression on her face. “I feel so guilty though, they’re both such good options!” She whined as she lightly punched you on the shoulder.

“Me too, but your Switch is dead right now so we have no other choice.” Breaking the news was heart wrenching, but it was the truth.

Abruptly, she grabbed both of your shoulders and began shaking you back and forth. “I can’t, [Name]! It’ll tear me apart!”

“I know, honey, I know,” a light grip was then given to both of her hands by your own. “We must get through this hardship; together.”

Her hand tightened around yours, a fierce look now in her eyes. “Right.”

This was it. You could do this.

The both of you go back and forth on who to pick for 3 more hours before taking a break and falling asleep on each other.

───

𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

“Okay, we have the recipe. Now it’s time to craft the ring!”

Finally, after hours of going through the mines of Skull Cavern, you finally got it; the prismatic shard. The final item you needed to craft the ring required to propose in the game. This was the moment you had been waiting for. “Do we have what we need?” You asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at his screen.

“We should, we spent a lot of time mining yesterday,” He muttered, looking for the crafting recipe. You quickly responded. “Okay, let me check my inventory.”

“5 iridium bars and 1 prismatic shard?”

“Yes, perfect!”

“This is about to be the cutest wedding ever!” You cheered, throwing a fist in the air. Triumphant, it felt almost as good as winning a game of Monopoly.

You were adorable.

As you prepared to craft the ring, there was a silence that fell between you. Then, “I would prefer it if it was real.” He mumbled, playing with the ends of his arm warmers.

Slowly, you put your Switch down to look at him. A faint blush could be seen underneath his silver locks, threatening to get brighter. “That is the cutest thing you’ve ever said.” You whispered, then you pressed a kiss to his nose. “I love you so much.”

@𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐳𝐨𝐞𝐲 °❀.ೃ࿔ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

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heazueken · 11 hours ago

Text

Well Needed Fix

*ೃ༄ summary: Volt's a bit worried that Eddie may be falling back into some old habits since you three got together and he has an idea..

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral sex, voyeurism

pairing(s): EddiexVoltxReader (AFAB, gender neutral)

w/c; 8.4k

a/n: would you believe me if I told you this was supposed to be like 3k words max LOL google docs says this is 17 pages...OKAYYYY. I cant stop yapping unfortunately...anyway my requests are open btw if you want me to write more of these guys! Please enjoy!!

You’re sitting with Volt at the bar of the Breaker Box after a wild night of more of the objects crazy antics and performances. Volt had poured you a simple soda at your request and he wipes down the counters, lost in thought. His hair jolts with electricity and he tosses it over his shoulder. He’s stripped of his large jacket— having draped it over your chair (you can still feel the warmth radiating from it). His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and his vest hugs much tighter around his waist than Eddie’s. He’s humming a god-awful tune that Johnny Splash had decided to subject the audience to but hearing him hum it almost made it better than the original.

Volt breaks the silence.

“Y’know, Live wire,” you pause, holding your glass up to your lips and glance up at the man leaning across the bar. You set it down when you see his knit brows and troubled gnawing of his bottom lip.

“I’ve been thinking…about some things since our whole…debacle a couple weeks back.”

You know he’s referring to that night. Eddie, almost to tears, refusing to let Volt go. Forcing a shut down on the power— a restart. The lights going out, darkness enveloping you only for them to flick back on and see the two of them still standing there. Your two boys, still together and now together with you.

Ice clinks to the bottom of your glass as you set it down on a coaster. Arms fold across the bar and you look up at the man who towers over you.

“Thinking…?”

He tosses a rag over his shoulder, he stares off to the side, eyes almost flickering like a bulb ready to be changed.

“I know we’ve— you’ve helped Eddie take a load off— in more ways than one, I might add,” He teases, relieving some of the tension he knew you were holding. “But, I’ll be honest, love…He’s still working himself to the bone. I’m scared he’ll go back to his old ways.”

You see the pain in his face, the way his chin drops almost completely to his chest. He gently lays a few fingertips where his shirt exposes the white skin of his chest.

“Us being…connected in such a way. I can feel his anxiety, frustration, pridefulness and…” He lets his hand drop. “His fear, too.”

Perplexed, you cock your head, you hope he meets your gaze but once you ask, Volt almost completely turns away from you.

“Fear? What does Eddie have to be afraid of?”

He’s quiet for a good moment. Sparking hair flows like rays of lightning down his shoulders and over his back and you see it change into a more blue hue before you hear him take a full deep breath as it fades back to his bright white. He turns to you again, a sad smile drawn across his face but you can see in his eyes that the smile does not reach there.

“Afraid of being vulnerable? Afraid of being the one that deserves love? Afraid to accept that love?”

You can’t say you’re too shocked. You knew there was a part of Eddie that’s much less…well, eccentric than his counterpart. That was almost the point of Volt though, let him have the spotlight so Eddie can keep the club up and running. He just didn’t expect that this birth (he hates you using that word but what else is it?!) would almost add more pressure to his already stressful life.

You know he doesn’t resent Volt for all this. No, he cares too much about him— that much was true considering the way he reacted to the possibility of losing his other half forever.

You always wondered why that— besides the night you two officially got together— Eddie barely participated in the more sexual aspects of your relationship. Almost afraid to touch you and Volt, stepping away when a kiss was planted on your lips by the lightning haired man, or even making excuses as to why he couldn’t join you both on the bed during the early morning hours of the club’s closure.

“I gotta get the club ready for tonight,” he grumbled, shrugging on his vest and clearly bothered with something. You always want to ask and fix it immediately, looking to Volt who reads your expression easily when Eddie is out the door.

“He’ll be fine, my spark. He just needs some time.”

You usually were able to get a word in after closure, but Eddie would excuse you away, flicking his bruised hand. Yes, you did notice the bruises, even more than there were when you first met. It worries you and you grow as concerned as Volt.

You run the tip over your finger over the rim of your glass, staring into the melting cubes of ice.

“Yeah…I can see that.” You look up. “Finally tired of dismissing it? You two are so cryptic sometimes.”

Volt sighs, his chest falling with the release of air and he stumbles back around the bar to sit next to you. He scoots the stool so close that his shoulder brushes yours. Even after being skin-to-skin and having him whispering filthy things in your ear, you still feel that flip of your stomach and burst of butterflies. He wraps an arm around you, leaning in a way where his hair creates a barrier so no one can eavesdrop on your conversation— not like there was anyone around anyway.

“I’m protective. There’s a difference.”

“I think we’re passed being protective considering I’m in a relationship with you both, don't you think?”

Volt gives you a look, his eyebrows tilt in an apologetic way, lips parting to begin his speech you’ve heard tons of time. You place a hand on your chest and mockingly lower your voice to match his pitch and accent before he can even get the words out.

“My live wire, it’s simply different between me and Eddie. We need not your worry for our concern. Nothing against you, of course.” You match a wink just as he does every time.

He’s clearly taken aback and you almost see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, spark.”

It’s not funny this time. You almost want to shove him away, your elbow digs into his pec and he backs off just a little— perhaps taking the hint.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make me feel like I’m part of this relationship.”

He seems confused, brows knit together and you don’t like seeing a frown on his face but it’s what you feel.

“I don’t like that you guys still hide stuff from me. I get that we’re still getting to know each other, but I feel like I should be able to help emotionally in a relationship,” You get up to leave, hopping off the stool after successfully elbowing Volt’s arm from around you.

Before you can even take two steps, he grabs your wrist.

“Y/N,” It shocks you so much to hear him say your name that you whip your head around to stare with wide eyes. Volt looks…sad…you’ve never seen him like this since that night. You turn around, wrist still in his hand. When he realizes you’re not going anywhere, his grip loosens but he doesn’t let go. “Forgive me. It’s why I called you here tonight.“ He curses to himself, you feel him squeeze your hand as if to comfort himself. He looks up at you with those glowing, pleading eyes.

“For amp’s sake, live wire, I didn’t mean to start anything.”

He sounds breathless, his cheeks tinge red with shame. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t gentlemanly of me to start something with you… you of all people…I’m sorry.” He repeats and this time he attempts to drop your hand but this time you’re clutching it, weaving your fingers together and pressing your palm against his. They’re clammy. You never see Volt like this.

You take a step forward. “What’s wrong, Volt?” You tilt your head in a way where he’s forced to look at you. His face is all angles and shadow now, ashamed of his combative behavior and embarrassed that you seem to shrug it off like a jacket, like it doesn’t even matter. You reach a hand up and cup his cheek, there’s a whirring of electricity that sparks across his skin and to your palm. It’s warm and comforting, like he’s pressing his hand onto yours to hold it there for longer. He looks to you apologetically.

“Forgive me. Eddie needs me— as much as he likes to argue he doesn’t. But I’m not enough to get through to him. I need your help this time but I’m such a stubborn ass that I picked a fight…please, forgive me.”

He’s pained, clearly hurt by his own words directed towards you.

“It’s been just me and him for so long…We’re both still getting used to letting someone else see just how faulty we are,” He chuckles, trying to make light of the situation. You lean in to place a tender kiss on his lips.

“Say the idea you’ve got already, damn it,” You press your forehead to his, scrunching your nose playfully when he finally meets your eyes. They’re bright and loving, a warmth permeates between you both and he tilts his face, slotting his lips back to yours for another sensual kiss. He breaks it before it can get too intense.

“I wanted you to talk to him…”

You quirk a brow. “That’s it?” Volt’s cheeks flush and you’ve rarely ever seen him embarrassed.

“No…no…I want you to…I need you to— oh, for amp’s sake…” His head falls into his hand and he pushes back the streaks of light that is his hair. His entire face is flushed all the way down to his neck, he swipes at his cheeks with one hand hoping it’ll calm down the color. It doesn’t.

“I have an idea…you get him alone and…” He smirks, looking off to the stage of the club. His jaw is carved well and you watch his adam’s apple bob as he tries to maneuver his words into a coherent sentence. You stay silent and patient.

“I have an idea that I think would help him. You and him…get alone and well…you show him how appreciated he is…catch my drift, live wire?” It’s like the anxiety has completely melted off him in seconds. His voice lowers and becomes sultry once more, purring in your ear and it’s already enough to get you fidgety in your seat. But what he’s proposing…

“What about you?”

“I always get you to myself. I think it’s Eddie’s turn.”

You wipe your hands nervously across your thighs. “Yeah, but…Why not both of you?”

Volt waves a dismissive hand. “As much as I enjoy you both, I wouldn’t mind giving you to Eddie for a night or two. No quarrels here!”

You consider this, mulling over the conversation with Volt as you both continue pouring drinks.

When you find Eddie it’s within the late late hours of the night. Everyone is asleep so you sneak your way to the entrance of the club door, the neon light that usually blinks the establishment's name is off, indicating its closure. Eddie’s inside the bar when you take a quick peek inside after noticing the door was unlocked, you knew he liked to work at night, you just didn’t think it was this late he’d be awake.

He notices you the moment the door opens. He downs the rest of his hard liquor, barely flinching at the taste but his brows still crease and he rinses the glass.

“What are you doing awake, spark?” He sounds exhausted— like usual but there’s a tinge of something else you can’t put your finger on. It almost feels like the first few encounters you both had when first meeting.

You stroll in, shutting the door behind you with a click and making your way to the bar that he stood behind. You take a seat at the stool you claimed earlier that day and you lean both elbows on the bar.

“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see Volt…and you.” You see the end of his eyebrow twitch at the mention and he sighs, pouring two shots in quick succession. He downs his before sliding you the short glass. Confused, you finger the rim for a moment, you don’t look at Eddie.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” His tone sounds like a bark and hurts you like a bite. You don’t like this tone with him, this wasn’t the usual playful standoffish demeanor he had worn before. This was genuine irritation.

You down your glass too.

“Volt’s worried about you,” you speak plainly, no beating around the bush, no avoiding the topic of one another this time. Things are different now, right? All three of you are together now and you can actually function like a normal relationship, right? That’s how things should be.

“Yeah, well, I’m fine.” Eddie turns so his back is to you. Despite the tension, you can’t help but admire the beauty that is his large frame. He’s slightly shorter than Volt but his shoulders are wider, more defined from hours of working on keeping this club alive and working. His biceps flex under the tight material of his button up while he hastily cleans the shot glasses; once done, he throws the rag over his shoulder just as Volt does and turns around. He pushes back his hair and leans against the sink, you try to avoid letting your eyes wander because you know he’ll notice.

You let them anyway and see a tint of blush dust across his cheeks. He pouts.

“Volt has nothing to be worried about.”

You let out a breathy laugh, sarcastic and dry.

“Right,” you point to his clearly bruised hands. “It doesn’t look like you’ve been easy on yourself, Eddie.” He glances down at his hand and sighs, clicking his tongue in an annoyed way. He pulls the rag from his shoulder and covers both hands, rubbing them vigorously as if that would remove the evidence. You get up then, rounding the bar before he can even plan an escape. Your hands reach on either side of the bar, caging him in. Eddie had begun his getaway but was too late.

“Live wire,” He warns, “Let me leave.”

“Let me see your hands.” He keeps rubbing them.

“No.”

You grab his wrist and he tries to pull away, his face contorting into one of anger but when you catch his eyes you see something akin to shame. Your fingers barely wrap around his thick wrist but you manage to tug the cloth off his hand.

They’re rough, just as they always are. Burns and bruises decorate his skin and callous over, your fingers delicately brush over them and Eddie is pulling them away and sticking them into his pockets. He says your name in a stern tone.

“Let me leave.” Taken aback for a moment at his tone, you hold his gaze for a few seconds, waiting to see if he’d relax, look to the side to sigh and apologize. But no, his face turns more red, his chin trembles and he holds his ground. Well, two can play at that game.

“Just tell me what’s up and I’ll let you go.”

His eyes plead for you to let him go, his hands escape their pockets and ball into fists at his sides. You can see a spark of blue in his eyes, one of anger you’re sure but that doesn’t scare you. He doesn’t scare you in the slightest anymore.

“Why the fuck do you push and push, hm? Is it like your job now?” His words are venom and meant to hurt you and they do, but you’re stronger than that.

You point at him. “You have no right to speak to me that way.“ Your tone softens and your arms reach out to invite his vulnerability. “I’m equally as worried, Eddie. Me and Volt. I can’t have you overworking yourself again…please.”

“I can do what I damn well please, little wire! I don’t need you or Volt worrying about me,” He shoo’s you away with a hand. “Go back to him and fuck, why don’t you? Leave me alone.”

Wow. You flinch at his words, unnerved by his tone and words.

“What? What is this really about, Eddie?”

He puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you with a malice you’ve never seen. “Volt is clearly better than me. That…that job is for him. Not me,” He places a hand over his chest, his jaw clenches. “You deserve Volt, Y/N. I only bring down the mood.”

“That is not true,” You say, your voice instantly getting softer. You should have seen it; the way he pulls away, the way he can’t seem to look as Volt steals a kiss from you, the way he pulls away when you try to touch him. It’s so clear now.

“Eddie,” you step closer, testing the water. Eddie doesn’t falter but instead rubs a hand at the back of his neck and looks down at his feet. He has nowhere to go anyway. “You know that’s not true, right?” Another step, you’re much closer, closer than he’d like you to be and he avoids your gaze still.

His flinches when your hand reaches at his side. It’s almost instant, the way his hand seems to unravel and let you slot your fingers between his. His eyes screw shut, knowing how calloused and rough they are. When you squeeze, he has to pretend like the bruises don’t hurt under the pressure, he doesn’t care really because despite everything he still craves for it.

You’re both silent. He doesn’t dare say a word and you study his face— the way the strands of wires that form his hair frame his face, the red wires complimenting his skin tone. The way his jaw tenses when you step even closer and he feels your body heat. You see his cheeks turn red just slightly.

“Say it,” You gently push. He wants to pull away, hide in his corner until you finally take the hint and leave but he knows you won’t.

“It’s not true…” He says gently, barely cracking his eyes open. His chin is nestled to his chest and he stares down at the shoes of yours. He seems so…small like this— finally admitting defeat.

“That’s right,” You confirm, finally you reach out again and this time he has no choice but to accept it. He won’t tell you that it’s really what he’s been craving for weeks now because, well…

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong? I thought I told you that you wouldn’t be alone anymore.”

He continues to stare at the floor and his eyes flutter shut at the comfort of your warm hand caressing his forearm.

“I…you deserve Volt. He’s clearly better than me.”

Huh?

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Eddie…what? Where did you come up with that?”

Eddie grumbles, running a hand through his wires again and pushing them back, he holds his hand at his neck and finally dares to look down at you. His silver eyes bare a foreboding sadness, you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“I’m not good with…any of that shit. That’s Volt’s job…he’s the more outgoing one, the handsome one. He’s the better part of me. I’m only good behind the scenes, hidden away and working…”

You instantly shake your head before he even finishes.

“Eddie, no. None of that is right. What makes you think I only want Volt.”

Eddie shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe all the side glances you make to him even when I’m there, the way you two hold hands at every given chance. The way he kisses you and you kiss back—“ He seems to grow more irritated as he continues. “You always seem happier in his company rather than mine. The way you two will continue when I leave—“ His voice shakes for a moment and you feel his hand tremble under your hold.

“Eddie—“

“It’s just clear that you and Volt found each other and I can go back to working my ass off.”

“Eddie—!”

“I’m clearly not good enough, you know? All I’m good for is keeping the power on and letting you two go at it like rabbits—“

You grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a ragdoll. Finally he shuts up.

“Eddie! Stop! Stop saying those things!”

He’s warm, his eyes flicker with spikes of electricity and you think he’ll blow a fuse judging by the straining vein that stretches across his forehead. Eddie looks hurt, he looks at you expectantly, like you’ll finally call it quits here and walk out of his life. You’re sick of him at this point, right?

“I don’t think those things. I don’t feel how you’re accusing me of feeling. I don’t only have feelings for Volt.”

“But he’s the only one that deserves you.”

Your heart breaks. Eyes begin to water and you place both hands over his chest, your fingers weave into the buttons of his vest and you feel his quickened heartbeat.

“You deserve me too. Do you really think I was sticking around to see Volt every night?” Eddie looks off to the left, his eyes staring towards the stage. He shuffles on his feet.

“Yeah, kinda…”

You give him a sad smile. “You’re so fucking stupid,” you playfully pat a fist over his chest and Eddie looks down at you offended. “I was worried about you, you fool! Give me a little attitude and I’m determined to make that shell crack,” you snicker and your eyes beam at the slight lift of the corner of Eddie’s lips.

“Why me, though?” He asks genuinely.

“Why not you?”

He motions to himself. “I’m not exactly the most appealing, little spark.” It’s ridiculous how he can act like he isn’t one of the sexiest objects in the house, like he isn’t the reason why you have two wonderful boyfriends now and the very foundation of the working house, giving each object a purpose in life and giving them said life he powers.

You let your hands wander then, taking in the sight of Eddie’s body tensing at the sensual touch, his eyebrows twitching and cheeks burning. You can feel the electricity coursing through his veins when your bare fingers find the base of his exposed neck and you encircle your hands around them, sliding your body close so your chest-to-chest with him. Fingers card through his hair and his mouth twitches when he speaks, his voice low and curious.

“What are you…doing?”

“Admiring what’s mine?” You say it so simply, so easily that Eddie can’t seem to comprehend it. He finds a hand lifting and placing it on your waist. There’s a start.

“I’m yours, huh? What, I’m some panel of electricity only made for your pleasure? Is that what you’re saying?” You hook your wrist together, caging him there and his back leans into the wall. You shrug.

“If I said yes?”

“I’d say you’d get electrocuted,” His voice grumbles in his chest and there’s a shiver that runs down your entire body at the sound of it. You wiggle a brow at him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie.”

He laughs. It's genuine and refreshing to hear after not having it bless your ears the past few weeks. His eyes glisten with a newfound gladness and you take pride in knowing you helped create that in him.

“Is Volt giving you pick up lessons?” He places his other hand on your waist, his palms find comfort on your body and you begin to rock gently side to side.

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” You tease, tapping your lips with your index finger. Eddie chuckles and he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What else am I not supposed to know? What else is he having you hide from me?” His fingers tease at the hem of your shirt and you feel your own cheeks flush. You play with the ends of one of his strands of hair, poking your finger against the exposed wire.

“Nothing…just that…he wanted me to—“ you cover your mouth and mumble the rest of your confession. Childlike mischief dances across your face and Eddie’s eyes close half lidded—unamused. He pulls your close, turning his head to hold his ear closer to your mouth.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

You giggle, Eddie smiles. “He wanted me to try and convince you to—“ another muffle, but Eddie is already grabbing your wrist and forcing it off your mouth. You belly laugh, doubling over when you try to fight back and fail horribly. You’re definitely not as strong as he is and he’s quickly turning you around and pushing you against the wall. He pins your wrist against the wall on either side of your head. Everything stops when you two look at each other, amusement playing across both your faces until you feel his thigh press between your legs.

He’s handsome like this, inches from your face, holding you and staring down at you with those halflidded eyes. His mouth parts slightly when it goes quiet and he lets his gaze flicker down to your lips. He licks his own.

“Convince me to what?”

You don’t try to play this time. “Convince you to have sex with me.”

Eddie chuckles, “Volt thinks I should get my dick wet to relieve my stress?”

You can’t really argue with that, “Well, it could help.”

He stares at you for a couple moments, you feel like you’re being evaluated while his eyes roam across your features, tracing the lines of every piece of your face and settling for a good while on your lips before flitting them back up to your eyes.

“Yeah…I think it could help,” He sounds actually genuine this time, taking the advice into consideration as silly as it seemed. He pulls away to rub at his scruff, the sound of his rough hands on the stiff hair tingles the back of your neck and you have the urge to rub your cheek against it.

“I have a better idea,” He says thoughtfully. “How ‘bout— are you free tomorrow night?”

You stare at him with an unamused expression. “You really think I have anything else planned besides being at home and rotting away?” Eddie chuckles, breathy and warm and you smell the whiskey on his breath. His hand slides up your waist and cups the side of your ribs, he gently presses the pads of his fingers into the muscles and it takes everything in you to not moan at the touch. He can see the effect it has on you, however and he gives you a knowing smirk.

“How about instead of rotting away in bed, you come meet me tomorrow night after the show. I’ll show you something, yeah?”

His entire demeanor has changed. Confidence permeates the air around him suddenly, his eyes seem to darken with want and it makes your stomach flutter with an excitement you haven’t felt in Lord knows how long. You’re eager, nodding your head and your jaw slack slightly. Eddie—amused, laughs again, his eyes shutting and nose crinkling. His crow feet are something to be admired and the way he cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger to shut your mouth has you blushing red.

“Thanks for the ego boost, live wire.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and you finally get that chance to feel his scruff. “I owe you one.”

You finally let him slip past this time. The sound of his footsteps receding as you try to conceptualize just what he’s planning for tomorrow.

The club is once again closed when you head on over to the Breaker Box. Pushing up your dateviators curiously, you knock once, twice on the metal door.

It creaks open, revealing Eddie. He looks much less worn out than usual. His hair is still shaggy and eyes

littered with lack of sleep, but for the most part there seems to be more color in his face and a gleam in his eyes that you can only say looks a little like mischief. You wave a hand hello and he opens the door further.

His vest is off, only adorning his white button up and it’s certainly not buttoned all the way. His wife ringlets around his neck still hang there and the collar of the shirt lays easily across his collar bones. You see chest hair peeking out of the shirt and you have to stop your eyes from wandering too far.

“Come on in,” He nods his invitation and the heavy door creaks and clangs closed behind you. The lights are dimmed, most off and you can barely see the stage without them on. But there’s a little shadow of the microphone where Johnny usually is, subjecting everyone to his demos. The bar is also barely lit, backlights highlight the glass on shelves, creating rainbows of light to dance across the countertop. Eddie takes you over, one hand on the small of your back to lead you over to your stool.

“Want a drink?” He holds up a shot glass he’s already prepared.

You look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Trying to loosen me up?”

He looks at it, then at you. “Well, I sure as hell need it. You mind if I…?”

“Please, go ahead. Just don’t get drunk on me. Already had to deal with a passed out Volt after I left last night.” You had found Volt, drunk and asleep, cuddling up with Betty on your bed, drooling over her breast. You settle on the stool and watch Eddie down the shot in one go. He places the glass on the counter and pours another.

“Yeah, thanks for handing him to me.” Eddie rolls his eyes at the memory of having to carry him back to the club.

Looking around, you notice something.

“Speaking of which. Where is Volt?”

Eddie doesn’t say a thing, instead he throws back another drink and finally rinses it, cleans it and places it back on the rack. He wipes his hands dry with a washcloth.

“Upstairs. You wanna see him?”

That sounds…ominous, the way he slowly releases the words— almost nervous to ask you. Afraid you’ll say yes. But when you look up at him he’s got this evil smile, a smug look in his eye.

“Eddie…what did you do?” He laughs at that and jabs a thumb to the stairs that lead up to their living quarters. You follow him.

He places his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly while he places his index finger on his lips, shushing you silently. When the door opens, you hear Volt before you see him.

“This is just cruel now, Eddie, really. What have I done to deserve such treatment?” Eddie pushes you inside with a swift move, tripping on the threshold, you stumble into the bedroom where sitting in a rusty chair is Volt. You catch your balance as you take in the slight.

He’s clothed (surprisingly) but his hands are behind the back of the chair, a thick line of wire is digging into his clothes, cupping his chest. His ankles, also tied, force him to spread his legs and he struggles against his restraints. Hair falls into his face when he tries to jerk out of the confines Eddie clearly placed him in and when he tosses his head back to throw his hair back over his shoulder— he catches you.

“Live wire!” He exclaims, realization hitting him and you all at once. “That’s what this is, Eddie? Showing off?” Volt would almost look angry if it wasn’t clear that he was extremely proud of Eddie at this moment.

“What—?” You can’t finish your question before Eddie is grabbing your shoulder and pushing you to the bed. The strength in his grip alone leaves you gasping and there’s a pang of pleasure that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. An electrifying excitement.

“Thought it was my turn for a little fun this time,” He says cooly. “Better to give my other half a show while I have my way with our little spark, right?” Eddie flashes Volt a toothy smile before he begins unbuttoning his shirt. You lean back on your elbows on the bed, your eyes watching Eddie before switching over to Volt who’s staring at you with a knowing grin.

Well done, live wire. You can practically hear it as he mouths the words. You bring your legs up and squeeze your thighs together with a glee and arousal.

Eddie’s body is toned— where Volt is practically hairless albeit except the white happy trail that begins at his belly button— Eddie is covered. Hair dusts over his chest and travels down his entire torso, his pants hang low enough where you can see the beginning of his lower pelvic region. Soft lines point to where you can see the natural shape of him in his pants. His skin flushes under the dimmed lights when he tosses the shirt to the side and feels both pairs of eyes on him, raking down and up. Volt holds back his tongue for once, letting Eddie have the spotlight for tonight.

The bed shifts when he places a knee on it, reaching and grabbing your ankle. Eddie tugs with one swift motion and you’re pulled to the edge of the bed, just a few feet from where Volt sits in the chair. You look to Volt for a moment when Eddie’s hands slide over your clothed thigh.

“Don’t look at him,” He says with a bite that almost sounds like anger. The lights soften the hard edges of his face but that gaze is equally as sharp and ten times more intense. Your eyes are glued to him then.

His hand slips under your shirt, fingertips hot against your skin and they press when it reaches the edge of the plump flesh on your chest. He squeezes gently, eyes glued to your face to see what expression you’ll conjure. His thumb swipes over your nipple and it’s hardening under his touch. Your eyes flutter shut, leaning back on your hands and letting your spine arch at the pleasure. Volt was always soft, sometimes too soft and delicate but Eddie’s already proving to be a beautiful contrast to his partner. You let your lips part in a sigh.

He pinches your nipple with his forefinger and thumb, there’s a jolt of electricity and it drives a yelp out of you. The pain quick to hit and just as quick to evaporate. You let out a needy moan then, letting your legs separate and scoot closer to Eddie— hoping he’ll pick up the sign that you want more of whatever that was.

Eddie’s other hand shoves your shirt up, exposing you to the chilly air and Volt’s piercing stare. The arousal increases in the room for every party. You hear the chair creak under Volt’s weight when he shimmies his wrists in his bindings. You look down, daring to open your eyes when you feel warm breath at the center of your chest between your breasts.

“More?“ Eddie lets out with a breath. You nod your head, his fingers pinch harder just a little. “Say it.”

“M-more…please.” You add the polite request at the end, hoping it would please him. It certainly does because his tongue is pressing to your breast, starting the underside and sliding up to your hardened peak. He circles the tip of his tongue around a few times before letting his lips capture the rest in his mouth. Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping the strands as he sucks more of your skin into your mouth. His own eyes flutter shut for a moment and you’re able to admire the way his eyelashes lay against his warm skin. He’s pretty like this— he always is but seeing the content on his face has the tips of your ears reddened and warm.

He pulls away, letting a bridge of spit connect from your nipple to his bottom lip that’s become plump and red. He swipes his thumb over it, breaking the bridge and beginning a slow, wet circle around your other breast. Eddie looks up at you through his lashes and he leans in close, pressing his face into your neck. You gasp, mouth agape and already getting dry.

“Mmmmh,” He mumbles, “So soft,” his lips graze your neck, tongue sliding out to press against your quickened pulse. His teeth sink in slowly, not enough to break skin but enough to leave a slight indent. He suckles the sensitive skin there, it pinches and hurts but it sits so close to pleasure that you can’t differentiate between the two. You let out another moan, hips moving on their own accord.

Volt groans himself, eyebrows pinched together and pulling at the wires as he watches his lovelies neglect his pleasure. He’s hard— rock hard in his pants but there’s no release for him.

“Eddie…” You breath, hand grasping the back of his neck. He grumbles into your neck before releasing you and soothing over his third hickey with his tongue. He pulls away, hair a mess, eyes droopy with want, hands trembling with excitement as he looks over your aroused state while he figures out what to do next. So much he wants to do…

He pushes your shirt completely off, it’s awkward and it tangles with your limbs but you managed to pull it off, now the two of you half exposed. Volt’s eyes seem to bulge out of his skull and he babbles something about how beautiful you two look. Eddie gives him a sideways glance that shuts him up.

You lift your hips when Eddie begins to hook his fingers into your pants, peeling them off and letting his calloused fingertips slide across silky skin. He slides them to your inner thighs once your pants lay in a heap on the floor and he’s pushing your knees apart until they nestle on the blankets beneath you. He lets out a longing sigh after holding his breath, revealing the goldmine of your wet heat. Eddie looks in wonder, mouth watering at the sight and he can’t seem to figure out what to do first for a couple seconds. A curious thumb buries into the hair on your pubic bone and he pulls the skin upward, unveiling your plump clit. It twitches under his cooling breath.

He lowers his head.

Eddie lets his mouth cup over your mound, his tongue peeking out to swipe, flat and wide to cover the entire surface. He moans with you in his mouth, vibrating the area and your legs fight against the strong hold he keeps on your thighs to keep them separated. Your hips buck at the sensation, unable to control the roll of mind numbing pleasure that feels like warm water enveloping you from toes to shoulders.

Eddie sighs, breaking the suction on your clit to swipe his tongue up and down with a precision and movement only he is capable of. He barely peeks over to Volt before he’s replacing his tongue with his two forefingers, watching your hole clench and unclench with each rub over your bundle of nerves.

“They taste so good, Volt. They’re doing so well for me, too, don’t you think?”

Volt swallows over a dizzying lump in his throat, attempting to clear it before speaking but he sounds just as breathless as you. “Y-yes, they are…So good for you…”

Eddie turns to you. “Good little spark,” His fingers play and circle at your entrance, pulling your lips apart to watch the slick ooze from you. His middle fingers dips inside slowly, it’s not nearly big enough to satisfy you— leaving you whining and wanting to beg for more. Before you can muster the courage to, Eddie is already pulling away and reaching over to press his fingers into your mouth. You let your mouth fall slack and take his finger in, a hand holds his wrist gently as you suckle and taste the saltiness of your own desire for him. “Get it nice and wet, spark…that’s it.” There’s a warmth to his voice that sends shivers down your entire body and you eagerly suck on his finger, letting saliva escape the corner of your mouth and slide down the side of his finger.

“Does Volt ever finger you?” He asks when he pulls away again and settles his hand between your legs once more. You shake your head and he pouts. “That’s a shame. He’s real good at it. Leaving our live wire out on some fun? eh?” He looks over his shoulder. “Not nice, Volt. Cruel, even.”

Volt groans, his pants tight around his crotch. You wonder if his hardon has the strength to burst from the seams.

“That’s alright,” He hums, positioning his fingers at your entrance again. This time he holds his middle two, sinking them into his first knuckle. “I’ll take care of you.”

With the width of his two fingers— your body reacts; leg spread wide, you toss your head back into the sheets, hands grip said sheets and you bite your lip in an attempt to muffle your moan. It doesn't work. Eddie’s fingers seek deeper inside you, feeling the plush, wet walls within you. The action alone has him feeling his cock dig into the bed below him. His hips adjust, feeling that satisfying friction but he stops himself— not yet. He’ll get his turn soon.

His fingers curl, hooking themselves deep inside you and he begins thrusting. Wet, filthy sound mix together with your sounds of pleading and pleasure when Eddie finds your g-spot and abuses it.

“Eddie!” You moan, teeth clenching and legs fighting against his strong hold. “Fuck…fuck, fuck! Eddie!”

“That’s it,” His voice feels like warm honey against your eyes. “You want it harder, don’t you, my little wire?” Fingers move expertly, sliding in and out and pressing into that plush, sensitive spot so roughly it starts to feel numb. A knot forms in your lower abdomen, tightening and tightening—

“Eddie! Please, I’m almost there—“ He suddenly stops.

You whine, practically crying when his wet fingers leave you empty and clenching around nothing. By the time you open your eyes, he’s sitting up and sucking on his fingers, eyes trained over to Volt who really does look like he’s gonna burst.

His hair sparks blue, eyes flicker with a sick malice that you know isn’t true anger. You watch them, waiting for one of them to say something. It’s like they have a silent conversation, speaking telepathically. Eddie releases his finger with an audible pop and turns his attention back to you.

“Lay back down and spread your legs.” You don’t dare question him.

You and Volt both watch with bated breath as Eddie unzips his pants, watching his hardon strain against the fabric before pushing them down along with his underwear. He springs out of the confines and you sit up to get a good look.

He climbs atop the bed, grabbing one ankle of yours with his hand and holding your leg open while the other grabs at his base. You hear a needy noise come from Volt when Eddie angles his dick to your heat. It’s warm and he presses his tip to your clit, sliding up and down to coat himself in your slick. His skin is soft and warm against you and Eddie lets out a moan that erupts from deep within his chest. A satisfying sound, something akin to a growl and he lets his eyes shut as the pleasure envelopes you both. He moves slowly, letting your pussy memorize the shape of him against your lips.

“Could cum just from this, live wire…” His tip catches at your hole and you gasp and relax— opening him for him but he slides back up to your clit and circles it with his tip. “Nice and wet, hm?”

He pulls back a little to align himself to your entrance. You suck in a breath, holding it until his tip splits you open. There’s the slight burn the further he pushes in, waiting for you to flutter around him before Eddie continues to shimmy his way inside you. He’s much more girthier than Volt— thicker and hotter— you wonder in the moment if there’s any chance you’d ever be able to fit them both inside you one day.

Eddie releases his hand from his cock and grabs the back of your knee, lifting your leg to push it against your torso. He lets his head fall back when he bottoms out inside you and lets out a satisfying sigh.

The room turns hot then. Everyone breathing deeply, Volt giving up on escaping and this time focusing on thrusting his own hips into nothing— practically crying over the lack of friction he receives. He watches you two with an icey, jealous, aroused stare that could melt metal.

There’s a searing heat between you and Eddie and it increases when he pulls his hips back and forward slowly, creating a slow and even rhythm. His thumb runs over the inside of your ankle, calloused finger soothing your mewling as you feel his cock bruise the inner working of your walls. Your toes curl when he pushes further in, his coarse hair mixing with yours, pelvis-to-pelvis in the most intimate way.

“Fuck,” He breathes hard, breath fanning your face. He leans down, curling forwards and his hair falls over his forehead in a messy fashion. He thrusts harder, eyes peering down where you two are connected. Creamy white pools out of you and drips down onto the sheets, he fucks you harder, knowing you can take more. Your body rocks with each push inside you, reaching up to grab the sheets to keep you steady. You moan Eddie’s name, looking over to Volt whose mouth has fallen open, cheeks tinged blue.

“So good, Eddie…Feels so good…” You say, eyes locking with Volt’s. There’s a smirk on your face and his eyes narrow, he still attempts to thrust but to no avail— there is no pleasure like skin-to-skin for him tonight.

Your other hand finds itself pressing into Eddie’s lower abdomen, feeling the ripple of muscle under his skin with each thrust. Your fingernails glide down a prominent vein on his pubic bone, down and down until your finger feels the wetness that’s coated on the small sliver of his exposed cock nestled in you. A choke catches in his throat and your hand goes to your very clit, circling it feverishly.

His speed picks up, thrusting getting messier, the sound of skin on skin growing louder, the bed creaking under the weight and his grip is so hard on your skin that you know you’ll have crescent shaped bruises in the morning. Eddie curses under his breath again, the pleasure becoming a hot white that almost blinds him. He’s just about ready to blow a fuse before he strains out.

“Gonna let me cum in you, right? Make you mine?” He says through clenched teeth. “Gonna fill you up and make sure we get every last drop deep inside you…” He leans down now, letting go of your ankle to grab the back of your knee, pushing both legs up and against your torso. The new angle is deeper, his girth splitting you open and tip bruising your cervix. There’s the burn and sharp pain of his abusing thrusts and he practically growls in your ear.

“Fuck, live wire, squeeze around me again and I’ll—“ His sentence is cut off when you tighten around him, lust filled eyes locking with his as you feel that wet warmth burry itself deep inside you.

Eddie’s lips part, glossy and red as he releases himself inside you, pumping his hips a few more times as ropes coat your walls. It’s lewd, the way you feel it slip out of you while he lazily moves his pelvis against yours. Slowing his motions, he lets go of your legs, letting the heels of your feet dig into the end of the bed. Sweat drips from his forehead and the tip of his nose, pushing his hair back, he sits back, still inside you.

Eddie quickly leans down to give you a long, strong kiss on your lips. When you separate and you press noses together, you look at each other deeply. Eddie’s eyes flash a pink color, eyelids droopy and the circles under his eyes seem to grow more prominent as the exhaustion of what he’s done takes over.

He slowly, eyes trailing over your body, pulls out of you. His softening dick drops cum from the tip and like a dam breaking, cum oozes out of you and onto the sheets. You release a sigh and let your achy limbs relax, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back.

You moan, pushing more cum out of you when you speak, “God, Eddie…that was…”

He sits at the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on one knee and looks over to you, nodding. “Well needed fix, yeah…”

“I was gonna say amazing.”

He smiles and blushes. “That too…” He fully turns to you, remorse written across his face. “I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

You shake your head, sitting up and reach over to grab his hand. “Don’t be sorry for having insecurities. We all have them.”

He shrugs. “I’ll be better.” He looks away, blushing and then turns back to you quickly. He puts his other hand over yours. “I love you…I realized I hadn’t said it since…everything that went down. I love you.”

You squeeze back. “I love you too.”

There’s a groan coming from the edge of the bed.

Oh right.

Volt sits, still tied up, head hanging forward, hair cascading down to cover his face. You and Eddie find your eyes trailing down his body to—

Oh!

A wet spot sits directly on the hard lump that is Volt’s erection. Eddie lets out a chuckle.

“No way you came untouched, in your pants.”

Volt groans, hair sparking aggressively. “Just untie me and let me change…”

#date everything #eddie and volt #date everything fanfic #date everything volt #date everything eddie #pepper writes #eddie x reader #volt x reader #volt x eddie x reader #volt x eddie #date everything smut #breaker box boys

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straykidsnerd255 · 3 days ago

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hi!! i have read so much of your work and i love your style of writing, it always has me blushing and giggling! i was wondering if you could do reverse hurt/comfort scenarios for each of the saja boys with reader as their gf. after a huge argument or something happening, you walk into your bedroom to see them crying. this is the first time reader is seeing them crying and the saja boys are very ashamed of it due to being demons and having to keep up the “tough” appearance. because of this, the saja boys initially push reader away or maybe even snap at them out of embarrassment and humiliation.

Awww you are so sweet Anon! Thank you so much for sending this request in! I hope you enjoy these little drabbles of our beloved Saja Boys<3 I channeled my inner angst writing in this and made myself cry a bit.

Jinu:

The tears just kept coming. Jinu tried wiping them away with his hands but nothing seemed to stop them. The tears warmed his skin but made his heart shutter. What would you think of him now? He was messing around, like usual. When he bumped into a dresser holding a vase that you so lovingly put together as decoration. He panicked and hid in your shared room, not knowing how to comprehend the anger you would feel. His body shuttered when he heard the bedroom door open. Ignoring your gentle please to turn to you, the tears he so desperately wanted to disappear flooded down his face. A small whimper left his lips as he tried hiding the tears. His face burned red with embarrassment when he heard your rushed footsteps. “Jinu? Baby, why are you crying? It was a silly little argument. I’m not breaking up with you over a broken vase. He tried turning his face away from you but your hands settled on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Leave me alone.” He snapped, his amber eyes flashing before he froze. He had never openly shown you his demon form and here he was, using it because he was embarrassed that you caught him crying. He wasn’t angry at you for catching him, he was embarrassed. Gwi-Ma had planted the idea of crying as a weakness and that he couldn’t cry. That demons don’t cry. His body shook when you pulled him into your chest. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would pop out of his chest. “You can cry Jinu. It means you are more human than you thought. Hell, demons can cry too.” You had tears welling up in your eyes as you looked up at your boyfriend's face, tears falling down his face, small sniffles could be heard from him. You rubbed your thumb under his eyes, catching stray tears. His hands moved to grip your wrists, but never pulled your hands away.

“B-But what about the vase I broke?” He whispered. Your heart shattered at how broken he sounded. Demon or not, he shouldn’t feel this way. You smiled softly and leaned forward, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to his lips. “Jinu, that vase means nothing to me. I bought it at a pawn shop to hold something an ex-friend had given me. Now, I can actually throw all of it away. Don’t be sad anymore. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.” You whispered, holding his face in your hands, watching his eyes well up with tears once more. You leaned forward, your nose pressed against his. A teary laugh left Jinu’s throat as he looked at you, pure adoration and love in his eyes. “I will never get mad at you Jinu. I would hate myself too much if I did.” You whispered, your hands dropping from his face to hold his hands. “I love you so much Jinu. Please don’t doubt that.” You whispered, looking up at him only to see him sobbing, tears falling down his face like a flood. You giggled and pulled him into your arms. His arms wrapped around you, gripping your shirt like a lifeline, his sobs growing louder and louder as he let out 400 years worth of tears on your shirt, not that you cared.

Abby Saja:

He winced as the door slammed shut. His heart shattered as he heard your car pull away. He made a mistake and he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to take it back. He accidentally broke something of your late grandmother’s and brushed it off as something that could be fixed. Not realizing that it was something that couldn’t be fixed. Abby Saja immediately went and picked up every piece of the broken china dish, holding it in his hands like it was the last piece of his relationship with you. Tears welled up in his eyes as he sat at the kitchen table, hunched over the plate, looking everywhere online to find a picture of it so he could glue it back together. 5 hours passed before you returned home. You had cooled down enough, having gone angry grocery shopping and nearly bought the whole store. As you entered your apartment, Abby Saja was nowhere to be found. You sighed, knowing that it was partially your fault.

Entering the kitchen, you noticed the once brought heirloom from your grandmother perfectly glued back together. Your heart shattered when you read the small apology note Abby Saja left for you. You should still be mad at him. You should break up with him because he knew that was something special to you. Sure it was an accident but the way he was nonchalant about it made your blood boil. As you were putting everything away, you heard shuffling and what sounded like sniffles from upstairs. You placed what you had in your hand on the table and walked towards the room. You stopped in front of the door, your heart clenching in pain as you heard soft whimpers and sobs leaving Abby Saja’s mouth. Him berating himself for what he did. You carefully opened the door, but the creaking floor caused him to turn around. His face was bright red, both from crying and from you catching him crying.

He simply looked at the ground like a child that got scolded by their mother. You moved towards him, watching how he flinched ever so slightly when you lifted your hand. Your heart absolutely shattered at that. You rushed into him, your face pressed into his chest, arms wrapped around him as your body began to shake. “I should be mad at you but I can’t. I can’t be mad at you when you are sobbing. When you fixed the plate and made it look brand new. Or how you flinched when I raised my hand. Please forgive me.” You were not sobbing into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around you. You both stood there, wrapped in each other's arms sobbing before falling onto the bed, and fell asleep. Having tired yourselves out with how much you cried together.

Mystery Saja:

He doesn’t cry. He wasn’t supposed to cry. He was a demon, and demons don’t cry. Yet, here he was, tears falling down his face like a facet, shuddered breaths leaving his lips as he watched you pick up the broken picture frame that he threw to the ground in a small moment of rage. His heart snapped when you simply walked past him, ignoring his pleas of sorrow. Ignoring his outstretched hand, begging you to forgive me. You simply walked past him. When you finished cleaning the glass up, you stayed on your knees, cradling the picture of you and him in your hands. Mystery backed away, his chest constricting with humiliation and regret. He rushed to your shared bedroom and tried to hide himself away as the tears fell down his face. He hiccuped as he cried out hysterically. Begging whatever being was watching to not let him lose you. He made a mistake, but he couldn’t lose you. Not now.

He was so caught up in trying to stop his tears that he didn’t realize you had come into the room, knelt in front of him, and lifted your hand towards his face. Out of reflex, he slapped your hand away, backing himself into the corner, begging you to leave him alone. You swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw the fear in his eyes, and heard the anguish in his voice. But you moved closer. Finally pressing your hand to his face. His body shuttered but he leaned into your touch, his soft, stuttery breath pulling and tugging at your heart. You nudged his legs slightly so you could sit in between them. When you finally were pressed against his chest, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, smiling when his arms wrapped around you. “I know it was an accident Mystery. You would never throw that picture on purpose.” You whispered after a beat of silence

Mystery hummed to acknowledge your words, a tiny smile appearing on his lips. He softly tightened the hold he had on you, hoping that you wouldn’t leave him alone. Shifting, you look up at your boyfriend, gently moving his hair that covered his face to the side, seeing the red tear stains that littered his face from his crying moments before. Pressing your hand to his face, you couldn’t help but smile when he nuzzled into your palm. Purring at the warmth it gave him. The comfort that it blessed him with. “Promise me you won’t ignore me again? I was scared you were going to break up with me when you ignored me.” Mystery whispered, not wanting you to pull away. You smiled sadly at him, laying your head against his chest. “I will never leave you Mystery. Not for something as small as a broken picture frame. Those can be replaced.” You whispered, slowly falling asleep against his chest, happy he wasn’t crying anymore.

Romance Saja:

His fear was starting to eat at him. He was always clingy when it came to you. He thought you deserved better but when he saw you laughing with another guy, it just broke his heart. When you came home a few hours later, he refused to talk to you. When he did finally talk to you, it turned into a screaming match because Romance was afraid that you would break up with him. Now, he sat in your shared bedroom, hands holding his face as he sobbed loudly. His heart breaking at the look in your eyes when he made the mistake of yelling out that he hated you. Sliding off the bed to his knees, Romance dropped his head to the floor and continued to cry. He didn’t hear the door opening and you stepping into the room, his favorite food in your hands.

“Honey, please talk with me. No more yelling just…” You froze when you saw your boyfriend sobbing on the ground, his shoulders shaking harshly as he tried to stop. You placed the food on the dresser and rushed to him. You dropped to your knees and gathered him in your arms. Holding him tightly as his hands gripped your shirt. His sobs made your heart ache. “I don’t want you to see me like this. I look so weak and pathetic.” Romance whimpered, burying his face in your shoulder. Shaking your head, tears began forming in your eyes. “Crying is not a weakness, Romance. Crying just proves that your heart can still ache and yearn for things it wants. You feared I was leaving you, had a fight, and broke down sobbing. That’s a form of fighting.” You whispered, your tears finally falling down your face.

You both sobbed in each other's arms before moving to the bed, needing something comfortable instead of the floor. Romance laid his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair. He hummed softly when you started rubbing his neck, his body melting against yours. “So the man you were talking to was your brother that came for a surprise visit from college?” Romance asked, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. You giggled. “Yes. He is my brother. Did you think he was a random guy trying to hook up with me?” You asked, one eyebrow raised as Romance groaned in embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I thought you were getting taken from me!” He whined, making you laugh. “I don't want anyone that isn’t you, Romance. You are the only one for me.” You whispered, smiling when Romance looked up at you and leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours.

Baby Saja:

He was certain you would break up with him. He had been standoffish with you for the past week and he could see the tiredness in your eyes. He could see the hurt in your eyes, but most of all, he could hear your heart aching with each passing moment he didn’t talk to you. You would make him his favorite food, and he would leave it sitting in the same place you had left it for weeks on end before you would throw it away, tears falling down your face. The last straw for him was you making him something so special for his birthday. You sat everything up and he completely abandoned you that night. He stayed with the Saja Boys that night. Laughing and partying before a sudden ache in his chest made him pause. Now, he was rushing back home. His body trembled with fear that you were going to leave him.

When he entered the house, it was dark, save for the few candles lit in the kitchen. Closing the door softly behind him, he made his way over to the kitchen. His heart nearly died on the spot. You had set up a birthday dinner for him and you and here he was, staring at the ruined gift you had so thoughtfully planned for him. Baby Saja doesn’t cry. Never has. Now, standing in front of something that you worked so hard on, ruined, made him break down in tears. The food you had prepared was one of his favorites and it sat ruined on the table. The gifts that you had so meticulously bought and wrapped sat untouched on the end of the table. He felt like an asshole. He rushed to your shared room, hoping you would be there, but when he entered, he saw an empty room. He felt his heart snap in half like it was a twig. He dropped to his knees and broke down sobbing. Silently begging you to come home.

You wiped furiously at the tears that still clung to your face when you left the store, hoping that it wasn’t too late to salvage what little was left in your relationship with Baby Saja. When you got home, you rushed to your room hoping to get this last little gift made but froze. You carefully entered the room, your tears long forgotten as you watched Baby Saja sob on the ground. You opened your mouth to say something but couldn’t when arms wrapped tightly around you. You felt warmth radiating from Baby Saja’s body and immediately buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent and nearly burst into another fit of tears when you felt his body harshly shaking against yours. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his voice nearing a whimper. You gripped his shirt in your hands and nuzzled into his chest. “Please don’t leave me, even though you have every right to leave me.” He whispered. You shook your head. “I’m not leaving you. Relationships have ups and downs. That’s normal, but I want to talk about those ups and downs with you. Fix them together. No more pushing me away.” You whispered, lifting your head to press a kiss to Baby Saja’s jaw. He melted, nodding his head. “I promise. I won’t shut you out. But don’t tell anyone I cried.” He said, smiling when you burst into a fit of laughter.

#Kpop Demon hunters #KPDH x Female Reader #Saja Boys x Female Reader #Jinu x Female Reader #Abby Saja x Female Reader #Mystery Saja x Female Reader #Romance Saja x Female Reader #Baby Saja x Female Reader #Hurt/Comfort #Reverse hurt/comfort

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