#lot taller trust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovieku · 7 months ago

Text

OBVIOUS ⋆ 정국

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

୨ৎ from the grande series

pairings: bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

genre: smut, strangers to friends to lovers

ratings: +18 / mdi

warnings: based on this ask, lower case intended, porn with some plot, mutual pining, age gap (21 n 25), first time, dry humping, tit play (small boobs lover jk!!!), oral (f receiving), fingering, hand job, size kink, protected sex, missionary, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, sooo much praise, and pet names, jeongguk is so so loving and caring, sm fluff hehe, bit of angst maybe? but lovey dovey confession <33

word count: 12.9k

a/n: aaaa this is so silly and rushed but theyre so cute and i had to do something about it. ps: this is my first time writing smut, hope it’s not embarassing Help ..any feedback is appreciated 👩🏻‍💻

────୨ৎ────

you met jeon jeongguk at your favorite bookstore. the one tucked away in the quieter part of town, hidden in the shadow, squeezed between a small café and a vintage shop with an unassuming facade. it’s not the kind of place that draws crowds, most people passed it without a second glance, without paying it the attention it deserved.

but you always did, too attentive for your own liking, too curious for your own sake. you had always been the type to notice the quiet places where stories seem to breathe.

there was nothing not to love about the store. it felt like a refuge in tones of deep brown wood and soft amber light. it wasn’t flashy, but that’s why you loved it. stepping inside always brought a sense of calm, brought you closer to feel the whisper of worn leather bindings, the smell of old pages. it was being understood, accepted, seen.

meeting jeongguk wasn’t fate. it wasn’t some serendipitous moment ripped from a movie script. you didn’t bump into him while too immersed in your favorite novel. you didn’t reach simultaneously for the same book and argued over it, only to end up in the café next door.

jeon jeongguk was simply working there. he was an employee at the bookshop, stocking shelves, checking inventory. he just so happened to be charming, and the only one who came up to you after you’d been standing in front of a high shelf for what felt like an eternity.

“looking for anything in particular?”

when you turned to follow the source of the honey voice, not too low but still smooth, you had to fight hard to keep the gasp that was threatening to escape locked in your throat. he was tall. way taller than you. his dark hair fell in soft curls, brushing the nape of his neck, framing his face with carefully crafted, but effortlessly beautiful curtains. and when you managed to escape his wide eyes, seemingly storing all the warmth the shop could offer, you found it even harder to contain the surprise as you spotted a trail of intricate ink designs starting from his hand and running up his muscled arm, only to disappear beneath the short sleeve of his black polo.

he was still staring, expectantly. and you just kept standing there, mute. observing like a maniac. you stumbled over your words, trying to steady your voice, “oh— um. i was looking for the japanese author, kawamura?”

the way his eyes lit up at your request was unmistakable. and after that, the same spark would flicker in his gaze every time you stepped foot in the shop.

you later found out that he was new, which explained why you hadn’t noticed him before, all the times you’d gone and searched for books. which weren’t a lot, but enough for the other staff to know your face through the years. and now, certainly enough for jeongguk to become acquainted with your presence.

you started finding excuses to go more often, week after week, convincing yourself that you needed new books to accompany your tea as the colder months approached. truth be told, it wasn’t just the books pulling you in. your friends kept teasing you about the real reason why you’d always hurry there after your lectures ended, and deep down you knew you just had to accept it. you were developing a silly, little crush.

jeongguk didn’t seem to mind the growing frequency of your visits. if you had to guess, you’d say he was just as eager to see you. or maybe he was just exceptionally good at his job. if that were the case, you hoped he was crowned employee of the month every single time.

there was always a line he never crossed. his professionalism remained intact. he greeted you like any other customer, offering his help when you needed it. and you always seemed to need it, didn’t you? yet, there was something in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, the way his lips curved in that subtle, almost hidden way when you left with a new book in hand. you’d walk out of the store, clutching your latest literary find, grinning like a fool, and jeongguk would watch, his own smile lingering long after you were gone.

deep down, you knew this couldn’t last forever. you were just a student, miserably scraping by in the tiniest flat imaginable, your waitressing part-time job barely paying enough to make it through the month. but you’d feel bad, wasting hours of jeongguk’s shift, monopolizing his time with your indecision over paperbacks, keeping him off his tasks, just for it to be a waste. you needed to show him your gratitude, in a way. contribute to the income of the bookshop. so, you kept buying books. you weren’t sure you even had more space to fit them in your own shelf.

yet no matter how much you tried to convince yourself to stay away, you couldn’t help it. books were your escape, your joy, and the fact that they were sold to you by jeongguk was just an added bonus. the problem wasn’t him— it was your wallet. your poor, overworked wallet that kept reminding you of the price of each novel and how your little crush was becoming financially unsustainable.

it was one of those afternoons after your morning lectures, where the crisp autumn air made you even more eager to slip into the bookstore, feeling that familiar rush of warmth as jeongguk greeted you with his usual smile. this time, he surprised you with a book he had found just for you, claiming “you’d enjoy it. feels light and genuine, just like you.”

when it came time to pay, cheeks still flushed after the sickly, sweet grin he flashed your way, you sighed as you rummaged through your bag for your card.

he scanned it, only to glance up at you with a hesitant expression, “huh… it declined.”

“what?” you laughed, though it was shaky, disbelief lacing your words, “no, that can’t be right. try again.”

he did, but the outcome remained unchanged. he met your eyes with a worried frown, and you felt your face flame in embarrassment, not the one that made your insides swarm with butterflies minutes before this.

you groaned, pressing your palm to your forehead in mortification, “fuck, this is so humiliating.”

jeongguk chuckled softly, his voice soothing, “hey, it’s really not. it’s okay. i’ll pay for it.”

your jaw dropped, and you looked at him like he had lost his mind, “no, what? are you crazy? don’t— don’t do that. you don’t need to. i’ll just come back another day.”

what followed was a ridiculous, playful back-and-forth. you refused, he insisted, and soon enough, the two of you were locked in a silly tug-of-war over the book itself, laughing despite the situation. he finally threw his hands up in surrender, his smile impossibly wide, the kind of grin that made your heart skip a beat.

“alright, alright,” he relented, shaking his head, “but i’m still not happy about this. if i can’t pay for your book, at least let me buy you a coffee. i’m clocking off in 15. will you wait for me?”

you couldn’t contain your eyes from widening, your smile to dumbly paint your features as you eagerly nodded. you didn’t trust yourself to speak, afraid that if you did, some ridiculous teenage squeal would escape. he was grinning just as hard, though.

and so, you began seeing jeongguk outside the confined space of the bookstore, in a world beyond the shelves and spines of novels. his attire was always simple, dark tones that exuded comfort and warmth. his sweaters seemed soft enough to curl into, and his presence felt just as inviting.

but you pushed those thoughts away, trying to remind yourself that he was becoming a friend. one of your closest, even. you tried. you did! but you just couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to lean just a little closer, to feel the warmth of his embrace. god, get a grip.

still, it was impossible to ignore the flutter in your chest each time his eyes lingered a little longer than necessary. outside the bookstore, jeongguk was different. not in a bad way. he was just more relaxed, more himself. his touch came naturally, a hand at the small of your back guiding you through a crowded street, his arm slung casually over your shoulders like it belonged there. he was playful in a way that hinted at something deeper, his jokes sometimes drifting into uncharted territory, leaving your stomach in knots, your thoughts spiraling down paths you hadn’t dared explore.

and then there was the way he looked after you. he was older, just by a few years, 25 to your 21, but it felt like a gulf of experience separated the two of you. he’d seen more, lived more. experienced more. knew more. about all that stuff you’d been scared to explore, the stuff that happened in the intimacy of one’s bedroom. you knew he had his fair share of girlfriends, he told you about it. just how you’d told him you never got close to a relationship. you just flirted around with a boy in high school, messily making out in the corners where no one could see you. but it never went over that.

jeongguk’s protectiveness over you came naturally. you didn’t mind. it was reassuring, the way his hand tightened around your wrist in a crowded space or how his gaze followed you across a room, always making sure you were safe.

you found yourself spending more and more time together. walking through the city, staying up late at cafés, or just wandering aimlessly in his car, talking about everything. you told him about your classes, the stress of exams, your dreams of becoming a teacher, and the uncertainties that weighed you down. he listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel seen, like every word you said mattered.

jeongguk shared his own story too. he’d dropped out of college a year ago, deciding that the path everyone else had planned for him wasn’t for him at all. now, he was drifting, trying to figure out where he belonged. he took inspiration in the way your eyes sparkled at the prospect of your future. little did he know, your eyes just reflected the galaxies in his that you loved getting lost into.

it terrified you. because with each passing day, your feelings for him grew stronger, more undeniable. it wasn’t just a crush anymore. it was something that had its own weight, pulling you closer to him. the lines were blurring, but you let them.

one night, after a long week of classes and stress, you went out with a few friends. jeongguk hadn’t been able to join, caught up with work, but when your tipsy self had dialed his number later that night, he picked up right away. your voice was soft, your words slurred. they echoed through the bar’s bathroom, followed by your uncontainable giggles as jeongguk playfully scolded you on the other line. the same softness was painting his face, and he only hung up when he started his car, showing up within minutes.

by the time he arrived, you were well past tipsy and leaning dangerously toward drunk. you didn’t notice him sheepishly greeting your group of friends, their eyes lighting up with interest at the image of the renowned jeon jeongguk, until his low voice called your name, slipping his arm around your waist and helping you up from the bar stool, “come on, let’s get you home. say bye-bye.”

you glared at him, face slightly reddening at his tease. he just loved treating you like a little kid. loved poking fun at you. still, you leaned into him, the scent of his body wash wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, banter ready on your tongue, “i’m fine, grandpa,” you slurred amusedly, but your legs wobbled as you tried to walk.

he chuckled under his breath, guiding you out of the bar, “yeah, sure you are. you’re barely standing.”

the night air was cold against your skin, but jeongguk was warm, his body solid and steady as you clung to him.

you didn’t mean to say it, didn’t mean to let the words slip, but in your hazy, alcohol-fueled state, you genuinely wondered, “why are you so good to me?”

he paused for a moment, glancing down at you with a small smile, “because you deserve it.”

the car ride was silent, in a comfortable way. you got lost in the way the city flashed past you, and jeongguk stole sneaky glances at you from the corner of his eye, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little tighter each time he let his eyes linger.

when he reached your place, he helped you inside, gently guiding you to the couch. you were too dazed to fight him when he insisted on getting you some water and a blanket. he moved around your cramped flat with ease, having memorized where every single thing belonged after his countless stays at your place, watching movie after movie or simply keeping you company while you revised.

he sat beside you for a while as you rambled on about your night, how the music was slightly disappointing even with the drinks being overpriced.

jeongguk listened attentively, even with your words stumbling out in messy fragments, jumping from one topic to another. his eyes traced the way your hands moved in wild gestures, the way your lips fumbled for the right words, the glaze in your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the room. he didn’t realize it at first, but his body instinctively followed your movements, leaning closer with every excited wave of your arms, his knees brushing against yours, his head nodding in time with your words.

only when you stopped talking, turning to face him and catching his gaze in the dim light, he was made aware of the little distance between you. it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be this close. always sneakily seeking for one another in booth seats of the pubs you’d visit every so often, his hand lingering on your knee for longer than needed when calling for your attention, your arms locking together when walking through the city.

but this moment was different. it was heavy with something unspoken. and so tender, fragile.

your cheek rested on the back of the couch, your body slouched, your eyes half-lidded. he sat straight, his torso turned towards you, his head bending down to study your face better.

you didn’t think when you blurted his name out, your gaze falling on his lips, “jeongguk.”

he hummed softly.

“i want you to kiss me.”

the words tumbled out before you could stop them, but you didn’t take them back. you couldn’t.

jeongguk didn’t seem startled by your unfiltered words. he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back. he only tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lip inching up sweetly, “you want me to kiss you?”

you hummed, with the same softness, only tinted with uncertainty. fear of rejection. you were suddenly aware of what you asked him now that he repeated it back to you. and you realized how much you meant it, just now.

but his tone wasn’t condemning. it was seeking for confirmation that he heard right, that it wasn’t just your drunk thoughts talking. still, he didn’t lean closer, nor let his eyes fall to the lower part of your face.

he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “i’ll kiss you. just not now.”

”what? why not?”

your eyebrows were cutely furrowed, the blush the alcohol painted you with only making the pout on your lips even more irresistible.

jeongguk hissed amusedly, ”because you’re drunk. and when i’ll kiss you, i want you to be sure about it. want you to remember it.”

”but i am sure about it. i want you.”

once again, your blunt confession didn’t seem to faze him. he smiled, kept his tone low, ”i know. i want you too.”

your breath hitched at the unexpected sincerity of his words, your eyes roaming all over his face. you subtly shifted closer, your lips parted slightly with desire. the flame that lit up your body burned all the alcohol from your system, and suddenly you were more awake than ever. you were alert. your heart pounding, your core pulsing. he looked so inviting, so pretty in that light.

he wet his lips, darting his tongue out to play with his piercing. you could feel your head spin. you didn’t just want him. you needed him. and it wasn’t the alcohol. you were sure of it.

you could only dumbly lean closer and hope for the best, but he chuckled softly, his large hand framing the side of your face and forcing you to stop your path towards him, look at him, swim in the intensity of his gaze.

his tone was gentle, delicate, understanding, “if you don’t change your mind, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay? when you’re sober. hm?”

his eyes searched yours, waiting patiently for your response. you only managed a small nod, your eyes glossy with frustration and a bit of shame. you bit your lip, muttering a small okay and letting him fix your hair with the fondest look in his orbs.

he left your flat only after tucking you in your bed, because you begged him to, and after much more pleading, you even convinced him to stay beside you until you fell asleep. you didn’t feel him slip out of your hold on his hand, the weight of his body leaving your bed, and with it, the warmth of his presence going as well.

but the following day, after downing the glass of water you assumed he left by your nightstand, you bore through your headache and searched for his contact in your phone first thing as you woke up. you were instantly hit with flashes of the night before, and you remembered exactly what you told him, what he promised. that if you still wanted it, you would talk about it. and you just needed to hear his voice, as soon as possible.

you’re not sure what there was to talk about. you asked him for a kiss. his lips on yours. it’s not like there would be much space for talking.

with your phone to your ear, the ringback tone was the only sound filling the space between your thoughts. you felt a twinge of anxiety in your stomach. you should have probably called later, let yourself adjust to consciousness. maybe rationalize yesterday’s events and find a better way to move around them. give yourself more time to think it over. the wait stretched on, and it only gave your doubts more space to spiral, turn into little monsters whispering evil things in your ear.

he probably wanted to talk to you about it because he thought it was a stupid idea. he didn’t really want it, was just lying to get you to shut up. he thought you were foolish, childish, not his type at all. or maybe, he was seeing someone and didn’t know how to tell you. wow, that would be humbling. you wanted him so bad and he was just—

“hello?”

his voice sounded muffled through the line. you clumsily adjusted your device to your ear, sitting up, still in your bed, last night’s makeup smudged under your eyes, “jeongguk?”

”that would be me, ma’am.”

“hi,” your voice was low, thick with sleep and the remnants of your hangover, and it sounded weaker than you’d intended to reveal.

”hey. feeling better, miss?”

his playful tone was laced with affection, and it instantly put a smile on your face. you didn’t realize it, but your mind was clearing, your body unconsciously easing back into the covers, “i am.”

jeongguk hummed, and you heard the faint sound of movement on his end. he was probably getting ready for the bookstore, but still found time to pick up your call. it made you alert, awkwardly aware of what both of you were probably expecting out of this conversation.

you cleared your throat, smoothing some of the morning grogginess and sounding lighter, softer, “come over after your shift? i miss the office. and your ramyeon.”

when he chuckled in your ear and teased you for that one time you said his cooking was average, you felt your shoulders relax. even more when he agreed and shot you a quick see you later, followed by the exaggerated sound of smacking lips.

it was his signature goodbye, always ending your calls with that. it would usually make you roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. but this time, it made you blush like a pubescent teenager. get. a. grip.

jeongguk noticed the slight shift in your demeanor right away. he could taste the tension, smell it in the air, feel it in the way you’d become stiff, even when his fingers barely grazed your skin. it was a stark contrast to how things had been between you two.

you still moaned around the first bite of his ramyeon, still giggled with your mouth full as he mockingly mimicked your voice, playfully downgrading his cooking skills from months ago. but you blushed a little harder at the smirk that followed his usual tease. subtly ran away from his hand seeking your contact.

with time, both of you had grown comfortable with the casual touches, playful proximity— tickling at each other’s sides, poking jokingly, or simply brushing hands when no one was looking. it had become a natural part of your dynamic.

but after your earlier slurred confessions, he could tell that it was affecting you more deeply now, your body reacting differently to his touch. the way you startled at his closeness, the small breath catching in your throat. it all made his head spin, his fist tighten in restraint. you weren’t the only one affected.

on your couch, you found it hard to relax in his familiar embrace, an arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest. the steady rhythm of his breathing usually soothed you, but tonight, your heart was fighting its way up, dangerously close to spilling all over his neat clothes. you exhaled shakily, the office playing quietly on the tv doing a weak job at distracting you.

and jeongguk couldn’t take it anymore. lust wasn’t the only feeling simmering under the surface. he was scared. that he may have read it all wrong, that you only blurted it out because you were drunk and not in control of your thoughts. he was terrified of stepping the wrong way, doing something that would determinately scare you away, end whatever you two had for good. and he didn’t want to lose you. wanted to keep you. and that went over the need to taste your lips.

through the corner of your eye, you could feel him stare down at you intently. his other hand reached to move your hair out of the way, and you let him. you turned to meet his gaze, and relaxed slightly at the fond look on his features.

“what’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours? will you tell me?”

you blinked. gulped down loudly. the reassuring smile on his face grew bigger. you shifted slightly in his hold, moving your body to face him, and the arm that was around you naturally fell down your waist.

you tried to word it differently, tried to suppress it just a bit longer, find another way around it, but his blown out pupils lowered all your inhibitions, “do you— do you still want to kiss me?”

“i do. very badly.”

his response was immediate, and it came through a whisper. it caressed your face sweetly, and it made you aware of the natural gravity that pulled you even closer, to the point of your noses almost touching.

you were unable to move, to initiate anything, to be truthful to your desires. your orbs jumped on every corner of his face, widening. he let his palm close around your hip, then he spoke low, “will you let me do that?”

jeon jeongguk kissed you slowly. his lips lingered on yours, tasting, moving with intent. his hands framed your face, traveling down your neck and holding you gently by the nape.

it was sweet, and delicate. he took his time becoming acquainted with your pace, letting you control the movement of his doings. when he darted his tongue out to trace your lower lip, you granted him permission to explore the insides of your mouth.

with tongues intertwined, the kiss gradually became sloppier, more desperate. your fingers found home in his long curls, tugging at the base of it, and supporting yourself while arching your body into his, pressing yourself against his chest, seeking for confirmation that he wanted this just as badly as you did.

he welcomed your proximity by letting his palms fall to your waist, keeping you close, and tracing his touch dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

you whined lowly, but the sounds became ingloriously louder the more he pressed your body against his hard one, his touch wandering, squeezing, feeling.

you messily straddled his lap and sat with your knees on both sides of him, your desire deepening with your kiss, devouring his lips harder, twisting his hair in a confused tangle the more you got lost in them.

his hands went to hold your hips, and you soon felt a stronger weight on them, gently pulling you away and giving you a minute to catch your breath. though it was taken out of you the moment you took in the man in front of you, his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, his curls all over the place.

he let out an amused chuckle, combing through your own mess on your head, “hey, pretty. it’s okay. there’s no rush. we can take it slow, hm?”

in that small moment, you were made aware of your own eagerness slipping out of your control and rushing your actions, insatiable with wanting more, but not even being sure if jeongguk wanted that more just as much.

instead, you were sure your whole face was a crimson shade with the way the boy under you fondly grinned, his hand guiding you by the nape and letting your lips meet again in a small peck, before he focused on your face again.

jeongguk never left your eyes, and you were too hypnotized to even think of looking elsewhere. his gaze was steady, magnetic, thirsty to drink in your reaction as he guided your hips against him, letting them drag over his clothed bulge. you moaned, unshameful, your eyes rolling back.

”yeah? you like that?”

you could only nod dumbly, repeatedly, using your hands on his shoulders as support while you kept grinding on him. slowly at first, just how he had suggested. but the stimulation was too good, your clit deliciously meeting his hardness, spreading the embarrassing amount of wetness you had already collected all over your panties. you tentatively picked up your pace, his hands immediately stopping you.

”you need to be patient, doll.” his scold was only playful, the smirk spreading on his features letting you know he enjoyed the effect he had on you, the way he bit his lip communicating he was just as affected. but you liked the feeling of him guiding you through this.

you didn’t know what to do, weren’t sure how to please him, too shy under his adoring look. you sheepishly smiled, falling onto him and hiding yourself in the crook of his neck.

he laughed, his chest moving with it, and you could feel his heart pumping, his warmth meeting the side of your face. he took the hand on your waist and dragged it up your back, soothingly, “you’re doing so good, baby. okay?”

it was sweet, and the praise made you pulse around nothing. you nodded, your nose brushing against his neck as you timidly let your lips leave a trace of wet kisses along his adam’s apple, going up his jaw. he hummed, the sound reverberating in his throat and against your mouth.

you left small pecks on his cheek, to his nose, retreating after laying a quiet one on his mouth. you looked back at him, jumping between his eyes, confession tumbling out your tongue, “sorry. i just want you so bad.”

he chuckled, moving your bangs out of your face, “i want you just as much. but i don’t want this moment to be fast. want to make it special for you.”

his whispered words tugged at the strings of your poor heart. you felt it begging to be ripped out of your chest, banging on your rib cage, maybe trying to find another way up your throat. but its repeated, quick pumping also matched the need pooling down your lower belly, staining your panties.

you nodded, finding his lips again and deepening the kiss, adapting to a slower rhythm as your tongues fervently explored each other. he grabbed your sides and grinded you closer to him, moaning in your mouth as you matched his gentle guiding, meeting the involuntary buck of his hips.

the almost too tender drag of your clothed pussy against his clothed, hard cock soon became torturous for the both of you, reduced to panting, eager messes. you felt unashamedly close just from the repeated action, and if he hadn’t decided to lay you on your back just then, you were sure you would have cummed already.

he was gentle as he positioned you on the couch, your body sprawled while he was mindful not to put too much of his weight on you. when he left your lips, you instinctively whined. your head subtly lifted off the sofa to try and follow his mouth, bring it back on yours, but he only smirked and darted his tongue out to lick off your taste.

he didn’t give you time to protest, to miss his touch, to be left unattended. because he quickly moved to work on your neck, his tattooed hand tentatively seeking its way under your t-shirt.

you let him wander. let him leave wet traces from your jaw down your collarbones while his fingers left goosebumps along their path, and rose up to your chest. he hummed at the feeling of your bare breasts, smirking at the absence of a bra.

he felt the skin under it, only for his palm to cup your boob and knead at it. it was a perfect fit in his large hand, his thumb teasingly slicing over your nipple and making you mewl, arching your back and pushing your front into him.

he moved himself from your neck and hesitantly lifted up your shirt, searching your eyes for permission. you put your hands on his and led them to take it off you, discarding it on the ground.

he sat back on his heels, admiring your figure laying between his legs. in his eyes, you found something you were never met with until that moment.

he looked starved, his pupils blown and following every curve of your body, his hands hovering only to end up caressing your sides delicately.

you blushed, hard, using your hand to cover your face and throwing an arm over your chest. his palms squeezed your hips twice, his thumbs stroking the skin under your ribs, “don’t hide from me, pretty. let me see you.”

you shook your head stubbornly, a small whine escaping your throat. but he could tell you weren’t starting any fight, he could make out your smile, barely concealed under your fingers.

jeongguk moved your wrists and laid them on top of your head, his face nearing again to leave an adoring kiss on your lips. when he found your eyes again, the fondest smile was painting his features, “you’re beautiful.”

“my boobs are small,” your voice was muffled, shy, hidden behind your childish pout.

“i fucking love them,” with one hand still keeping your wrists together, he used the other one to play with your breasts once more, his gaze hypnotized by the way he could make them fit in his large palm, squeezing them together and kneading at the softness.

you moaned, loud and unashamed, when he guided his smooth lips to your nipple, his gaze never leaving yours while he attempted small, kitten licks at it.

when he saw how your eyes lustfully rolled back as his fingers went to play with your other boob, rolling it and letting his thumb slide over the sensitive center, he took it as his go-ahead to wholly engulf your wet nipple in his mouth and suck on it, lick around it, kiss it.

jeongguk was hastily making out with your tits, giving both of them the attention they needed, reducing your nipples to soaked, hard messes.

you felt your soul ascend high and leave your body when, as you unconsciously thrusted your hips up in desperate need of friction, you found that in his knee, the one that was positioned between your legs, the one you now grinded into with no control over your pace, bringing yourself closer to the edge.

“fuck, jeongguk,” you didn’t have time to feel ashamed over how delirious you sounded, or looked, the lewd noises of his sucking taking you even higher, his hands massaging your boobs with intent.

you only got louder the more you let your cunt rub against his leg, a motion you were unable to slow down, too eager to get to the finish line. and this time, jeongguk let you, even spurring you on, “let go, angel. cum on my thigh.”

it was all the encouragement you needed to fully loosen, his own whines resounding against your chest and blending with your high-pitched moans, eyes rolled back, head thrown to the side, fingers clutching around jeongguk’s locks and guiding him further into you as you lost control on his thigh, “gonna cum!”

your orgasm took over your whole body, shaking with overwhelment at the stimulation. all the sensations you were feeling were new to you, but nonetheless welcomed in the way your eyelids drooped with relaxed pleasure and you worked to catch your breath, your muscles untightening, your arms falling by your sides.

jeongguk left one last kiss around your nipple before lifting himself up to admire your fucked out state, your cheeks flushed and sweat adorning you with an angel-like glow, the lazy smile on your face as you stared at him making his heart skip a few beats.

he let his eyes wander, his own expression incredulous at what had just happened, “that was so fucking sexy, baby.”

the way you sheepishly chuckled was contagious, his giggles filling your ears as he lifted you up and pulled you against his chest, your still weak body falling onto him with ease. he smiled fondly, looking down at your face, “if you want to stop here, it’s totally okay. i won’t—“

“no!” your energy came back to you as quickly as it left your body minutes before, sitting up straight in his embrace with your eyes wide and worried. you fumbled with your words, “no— no. i want to keep going. please.”

the grin that took over his features adorably caused his nose to scrunch, and he had to put his lips on yours and let them blend together in a sickly sweet kiss to keep himself from saying the words that were so dangerously close from spilling, on the tip of his tongue. he hoped, as he slid it against yours, that you could still feel them, and accept them.

he retreated to cup your cheek in his palm, your eyebrows still unconsciously drawn up in agitation, but easing as he reassured you, “you don’t have to beg, angel. i’ll give you anything you ask for.”

”okay. couch is uncomfortable. take me to the bedroom,” your arms stretched out, teasingly expecting him to pick you up.

you squealed when he did, taking your legs, wrapping them around his tiny waist and getting up the sofa, leading both of you to your room. he didn’t have to watch where he was going, his feet automatically guiding him, having adjusted to your flat long ago. but even if that weren’t the case, he would still not look, too caught up in your glossy orbs.

he pinched your sides before laying you on the soft surface of your bed, legs still tight around him, “bossy much, hm?”

you shrugged, a naughty grin accompanying the playful glint in your eyes, “you’re following my orders flawlessly.”

he scoffed amusedly, kissing his teeth, “ah, is that right?”

you hummed, eager with taking the back and forth further, see where it takes you, “such a good boy.”

the giggle that tumbled out of you as he narrowed his eyes betrayed you, breaking into a full fit of laughter as he tickled your sides, your legs leaving his waist. he tauntingly bit your neck, not enough to hurt you, grinning mischievously, “i’m letting you get away with too much. need to teach you a lesson.”

the laugh died in your throat the second he lifted his shirt up, showing his body to you for the first time. michelangelo would have loved to sculpt him, that’s the first thought your slowed down brain could come up with as you let your eyes wander all over his upper body.

he was toned, his eight pack abs glowing effortlessly for your mouth to water, his nipples a brownish color and so inviting, making you lean on your forearms for a better view.

the arm that wrapped around one of your legs and pushed it on the side was the one inked with those intricate designs you spent boring, lazy afternoons analyzing, and now they were the reason why you could feel a familiar buzz down your core again, coating your panties with even more of your sticky juice.

“cat got your tongue?” there was no way you could even think of a witty come-back with the way he lowered his pretty face between your thighs, his cocky smirk never leaving his expression as his eyes fixated on your own, challenging you.

but you were long gone, willing to let him do whatever he wanted to your body. you stared intently as his fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, pulling them down in a sensual motion, until they fell on the floor.

your head fell backwards as he let his nose trace your soaked slit, still hidden underneath the layer of cotton panties, “is this okay?”

he only needed your eager nod to leave a subtle kiss on your clit, then lap at your slick through the thin material, “taste so good, doll.”

jeongguk repeated the motion, licking at you through your undies and letting his big nose brush against your clit torturously, his saliva and your wetness causing the fabric to dig between your lips uncomfortably, showing yourself to him.

you unconsciously bucked your hips up, eagerly demanding to set you free, but he held you down by your waist, “patience, baby.”

you whined loudly, and you couldn’t believe how delirious you sounded already, only moments after your earlier climax. he seemed to enjoy your reactions, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance and ripping a desperate moan out of you, trying to push yourself into him further but being held down by his strong palms.

you fell on your back, your hair sprawled over your pillows, suddenly too weak to fight against him. he chuckled darkly, speaking against your core, “you’re so cute. so eager for me, angel.”

when he lifted himself up, his mouth glistened with your juice, and you couldn’t help but blush at the image. you were so wet, the liquid stained him even through the layer of clothing still keeping you from fully feeling him.

the silent plead in your eyes was listened to. jeongguk slid off your panties in one swift motion, his eyes hungry at the sight revealed to him, “fuck. so perfect. the prettiest.”

he didn’t show mercy at your weakened state, returning his starved mouth on your cunt, slurping at your lips and sucking on your clit, the stimulation making you see stars under your eyelids.

your eyes snapped open the moment you felt something tentatively poking at your entrance, and as you lowered your head you saw his finger playing with your virgin hole, going up to collect your slick from your slit, then returning on where you were starting to need him.

but you were anxious. he immediately saw it in the way you got up on your forearms again, instinctively closing your legs around his hand. his eyes found yours, reassuringly, “baby. you alright?”

you nodded sheepishly, “yeah. i’m just— scared. don’t want it to hurt.”

the hand that was playing with you now laid on your lower stomach, rubbing it in a sweet manner while he sought for your mouth with his, leaving a honeyed peck on it, “it will hurt a bit, pretty. but i’ll try and make it feel good, hm? if you’re not sure, we can always stop.”

you could only bite your lip as the both of you searched for security in each other’s eyes. he tilted his head, waiting for your approval, the grin spreading and making his long dimples visible infectious, and you stumbled on your words, “can you— kiss me while you do it?”

he hummed fondly, his lips immediately finding yours as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading again and granting him access to the spot you were anxiously eager to feel him.

his tongue slowly moved with yours and lightly lulled your racing heartbeat, instilling some needed tranquility in your system as you felt him close to your core again. his middle finger repeated a circular motion around it, spreading your stickiness, only to bring it on your hole before delicately pushing his digit inside.

a choked out moan escaped you, captured promptly by his lips, keeping you somewhat distracted from the slight burn you felt. it grew the more he slipped himself inside you, and you bit his lip to conceal the pain.

he growled at the action, retreating his finger only to push it in again, this time tentatively deeper. he went over the movement a few times, enough to get you adjusted to the foreign presence, and the more he did it, the more the sharpness turned into pleasure.

”feel good, princess?” the pet name was whispered against your swollen lips, and you kept your eyes closed as you nodded, basking in the newly welcomed feeling.

when he started curling the finger inside you, you involuntarily bucked yourself up against him, your body spasming with your hole and he groaned at the feeling of your tightness, unconsciously grinding on the sheets.

he couldn’t help himself from breaking your kiss to look down, getting lost in the way his digit got sucked inside you, only to come out soaked in your juice. without warning, he slowly added another finger, and you arched your back, searching for support in his shoulder.

jeongguk’s eyes kept jumping between your wet cunt, where his fingers worked in and out, and your pleasure-contorted expression, your mouth agape and unleashing your every moan as your eyes squeezed shut.

he felt deliriously close only from the image, his hard dick desperate for friction and insatiable with the way he was still constricted in his jeans. but this moment was about you and you only. once he felt the way you gripped his shoulder tighter at one particular curl of his digits, he kept hitting that spot repeatedly, faster.

you didn’t notice his face retreating at first, too lost in the bliss of his purposed touch, but you gasped harshly, your eyes tearing open the moment you felt his lips enveloping your clit again and sucking at it, lapping all around it, tasting it as if it was his first meal after ages.

when you looked down, you found him already staring at you through half-lidded eyes. you wailed, feverish, “oh, shit. gguk, don’t— don’t do that.”

he hummed questioningly, and the sound reverberated against your sensitive nub.

you rolled your eyes back, ”gonna cum again if you— fuck.”

“cum around my fingers, baby. cum on my tongue,” the words came out slurred, his mouth full of you, the drenched sounds of your pussy making his encouragement even more erotic as he added a third finger.

his digits kept digging relentlessly inside you, that spot that made your legs weakly squish jeongguk between them being hit repeatedly and bringing you close to your second climax.

what completely undid you were his eager cries against your cunt, and when you managed to lift your head to look down at the boy working so desperately to make you cum on his lips, you saw his hips rutting frantically against your sheets.

you didn’t even have time to announce it, the way your hole spasmed around his fingers and your high-pitched moans doing it for you as you fully let go for the second time because of jeongguk. it was more intense, your body moving with it and unconsciously running away from the touch once it became too intense.

jeongguk cleaned you as best as he could, slurping your juices and licking you off his fingers, climbing up to find your lips and share your own taste with you, his chin coated with your slick.

your pleasured sounds mixed together, the both of you panting and soon laying in silence, one beside the other, staring at the ceiling. you laughed breathlessly, “fuck, gguk. i almost died.”

he only chuckled along with you, the sound strained and dying soon in his throat. with your heartbeat and your breathing settling down, you turned to the side to find jeongguk with his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenching. his fists were clutching the fabric beside him, and his knuckles were white from the effort.

it wasn’t complicated to understand why, the next thing you spotted being the hard outline of his cock looking completely suffocated by his pants. you gulped, “gguk. you seem hard.”

he let out a delirious scoff, his eyes finding yours with an intensity you were only then noticing, ”i am hard, baby. so hard for you.”

you tentatively guided your hand to the button of his jeans, undoing it along with the zip. your words were hesitant, but so sincere, ”let me touch you. wanna make you feel good, too.”

jeongguk watched with his mouth agape as you straddled his lap, sitting on his legs only after sliding his pants down to his ankles. you looked so innocent, timidly playing with the hem of his boxers, and he tried to be patient, but he couldn’t.

he groaned, his head thrown back. “___. please, do something.”

his eyes were glossy with frustration, and you had to fight the urge to kiss him stupid, focusing on the task ahead. a big one, indeed. you weren’t going to lie, you were already intimidated by the outline of it.

now that your naked body sat on top of him, being faced with his almost totally bare skin, you realized how much bigger he was compared to you. of course, he was taller, always towering over you, teasing you for your height and pretending he didn’t see you, bumping into you purposefully or asking how’s the weather down there?

but with his large palm resting at your side and almost covering your entire tummy, you realized the implications of such difference. he could totally wreck you, if he wanted to.

ogling at his dick didn’t make it better. it looked huge. a wet patch stained his underwear near the tip, and you salivated at the sight of it.

you tentatively let your finger run along the covered length, and he hissed, slightly thrusting his hips, making you slide closer, “baby. don’t tease.”

the apology was ready and fast on your lips, genuine concern written in your eyes. you didn’t want to keep his suffering going, but you were also hesitant with how exactly you were going to please him. you’ve never seen a real-life dick, and you’ve certainly never touched one.

it was like jeongguk could read your every thought, your wide orbs like an open book to him, reassurance slipping out of him naturally, “doll. you see this?” he took your wrists and laid your hand on his hardness, gulping at the contact, “you feel this? this is what you did to me. there’s no reason why you should doubt yourself, okay?”

you nodded, still unsure, but surely smiling at his sweet tone. he grinned himself, “you’re so hot, and i literally almost came just by looking at you.”

the giggle that escaped you was lively and it eased your nerves with the way it mirrored in his eyes, fondly jumping all over your face. you bit your lip as you escaped his attentive gaze, finally freeing his cock from his confines and making him release a shaky sigh.

it was perfect. pretty. it touched just under his belly button, the tip angry and wet with precum, the pulsing veins running along its length making it throb.

you took it in your hand delicately, jeongguk hissing, and you gasped under your breath. it felt thick in your hold, your fist barely closing around it.

you weren’t sure what to do. your only examples were pornos, and you knew not to fully trust them. but as you started letting your wrist tentatively flick up and down, slowly, you eagerly drank in his reaction.

jeongguk moaned lowly, his eyelids fluttering shut, focusing on the feeling of your smooth hands taking care of his boner. he got louder when you unexpectedly played with his tip, your thumb swirling around it and spreading his wetness down.

your movements were messy, stutteringly uncoordinated, but the concentrated look in your eyes as you stared at his member intently made his head spin, wishing he could fill your slightly agape, watering mouth with it.

in your own mind, you wished his length could be stuffing up your cunt, instead. you slowed down your doings, ending up haltering them as he found your face again, a protesting whine ready to escape him, but you were quicker to surprise him, your voice shy, ”wanna feel you inside me.”

jeongguk groaned deliriously, eyes rolling back at the simple request, ”fuck. you sure?”

you whispered, ”please.”

”of course, angel. been waiting for so long.”

your mouths found each other quickly, starving, both your heartbeats picking up at the prospect of what was going to happen. he combed through your hair to move them behind your ears, rolling the two of you and making you the one laying under his weight.

in between kisses, you asked, impatient, “do you have a condom?”

”yeah, got one in my wallet,” he was panting with effort just as you were, moving from you only to fully free himself from his clothes and then search in his jeans pockets.

as he took the condom out, ripping it open, he stumbled on his words, suddenly awkwardly self-conscious, “it’s not like i have it because i was— expecting us to, huh—“

”jeongguk. it’s okay,” your sweet voice interrupted his overthinking, pulling him to be on top of you again by his arm, “i’m glad you have it, ‘cause i need to feel you. right now.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. you watched, eyes glossy with want, need, as he rolled the condom along his length, huffing out at the sensitivity.

jeongguk brought you closer to him by your thighs, wrapping them around him. he lowered himself on his forearms, his forehead touching yours, eyes swimming together, the proximity making the both of you smile sheepishly.

he exhaled, “are you still sure about this, doll?”

you nodded, the subtle but growing anxiety making your words get stuck in your throat. jeongguk was gentle, patient, his large palm cupping your cheek, “need to hear you say it.”

”yes. i’m sure. want you so bad,” the confession was slurred, shy under his adoring gaze. he kissed along your jaw, slow, intentional.

“okay. just know we can stop whenever you want. let me know if it hurts. i wanna hear you, hm?” his eyes searched yours, frantically, making sure you were good.

as you nodded again, he grasped your hand to hold it, letting your fingers intertwine and lay by your head. with the other hand, he took his length and positioned it where you needed him the most.

jeongguk made it all feel so intimate, special, and safe, that you sensed your eyes water with a feeling stronger than the words you could allow yourself to say. you felt eternally grateful to him for turning a moment you used to dread into something so delicate and precious.

you felt adored. you felt seen, and heard. you felt protected, understood. you saw your reflection in his eyes, in a way that made you want to hide in there forever, maybe travel a bit further down and find home in his heart.

as he started easing himself inside you, both of you gasping at the feeling, his hand gripping yours harder, a tear ran down your cheek. it was a mixture of emotions, sensations. the fullness of his cock entering you, the burn that came with it, his eyes widening alarmingly as he noticed the tears welling along your bottom lashes.

he stilled inside you, his tip now nuzzled in your warmth, his breath hitching, “does it hurt? baby, what’s wrong?”

”no, it’s just—“ it was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it. not now. maybe never? you swallowed it down your throat, “it hurts a bit but it feels so good, gguk.”

”yeah? fuck. you’re so tight, princess. taking me in so good,” his praises replaced the hurt, both emotional and physical, with a familiar fuzzy pleasure, pooling in your lower stomach and releasing more of your wetness on his dick, making it easier for him to slip inside you.

he groaned as he bottomed out, your moan higher than intended. you felt him throb inside you, just how he could feel you pulse around him. a string of curses followed as he repeated the slow action, pulling back to his tip only to push back in, making sure you grew accustomed to the feeling.

”gguk. i feel so full,” you cried, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, forcing him to stay still inside you. he growled, kissing along your neck and leaving small bites to contain himself from snapping his hips against you.

it was complicated, with the sounds escaping your lips resounding sweetly in his ears and your hole tightening around him in a torturous manner making him release precum inside the condom.

”baby, can i please move? i’m gonna go crazy,” his voice was strained, whiny, muffled in the crook of your neck as your fingers combed through his hair, unconsciously searching for comfort.

your granting hum was more of a high-pitched whine, but he took it positively as he attempted one first thrust inside you, followed shortly by another. your moans got stuck, the air cut from your throat the more he picked up his pace, lifting his face from your neck and straightening up to admire the scene.

it was better than anything he’d ever witnessed, his thickness stuffed in your tight, virgin hole and taking him in so perfectly. he took his free hand to hold you still by your hip as he pushed himself deeper.

you were a mess underneath him. legs squeezing around him, you barely gave jeongguk space to move. you wailed, his name tumbling out your tongue repeatedly as he fucked into you faster. he’d been so gentle with you until that moment, but now his roughness made you impossibly wetter.

when you let your eyes flutter open, you could feel yourself spasm around him at the sight in front of you. his abs contracted with the effort of his pushes, his cock slammed into you relentlessly, his nipples hardened and called for your touch.

you threw one hand to his pec and felt his firmness under you, gripping it for support as he pounded you with intent, your nails scratching his skin, the sounds of your bodies slapping together overtaking your pleasured moans.

he panted, rambling, “fuck, love this pussy. love fucking this pussy. wanna fuck it forever.”

��made just for me. such a perfect fit.”

“that’s how you’ve been waiting to be fucked, huh? nice and deep, you fucking love that.”

his praises and dirty comments made your head spin, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, letting your mouth hang open and release your cries into the stuffy room.

the sight of your fucked out state underneath his control was going to torture him for the following weeks, he was sure of that. he’d see you, sprawled out on your bed for him, your tits moving up and down with each thrust, your pleasured tears staining your face as his name left your pillowy lips like a mantra, every time he’d close his eyelids.

he had to physically hold himself back from releasing already, his length too sensitive and eager, but he wanted to make this moment last for as long as he could possibly handle. he closed his eyes, but he couldn’t escape you. you were loud, and the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

and then, the challenge became harder when you stuttered, unexpectedly, “wanna ride you.”

he threw his head back, a feverish groan rising up his throat, “fuck. you do, pretty?”

you hummed, just as unhinged, your legs untightening around him and weakly pulling at his arm to try and bring him to lay on the bed. he pulled himself out of you slowly, making you cringe at the emptiness, and as he let his back fall on the soft surface, he lifted your figure effortlessly and led you to straddle him.

now on top of him, you weren’t so confident with your earlier claim anymore. underneath you, jeongguk was panting, his pupils blown out, lips agape, cock laying unattended on his stomach. he stroked your sides comfortingly, subtly pulling you closer, and the action caused your slicked pussy to grind against his balls.

the two of you moaned at the contact, and he immediately took his length to pump it a couple of times, gently tapping it against your tummy. you lifted your hips up, positioning yourself on his tip, looking down at jeongguk for support.

the lazy smile you were met with made your heart stutter in your chest, and you put your hand on top of his, still tightly gripping your hip, as you sank down his dick.

your head was thrown back in pleasure, your back arching into him, and jeongguk had to fight with himself to keep his eyes from fluttering shut, wanting to bask in the image of you.

as you fully took him in, you leaned your weight on the palm that fell on his chest, his hands steadying you promptly by your waist, praise ready on his tongue, “doing so amazing, princess. making me feel so good.”

you attempted moving subtly, trying to adjust to the more intense stretch, and the hand that was still holding his led it to cup your boob, instructing him to knead at it.

he moaned shakily, playing with your tit while you lifted your hips only to sink them down again, tentatively repeating the action and gaining confidence the more his whines got louder.

soon, you lost control. the way your clit would brush against his skin every time you bounced down made you pulse relentlessly around him, grinding into the sensation and rotating your hips on him with intent.

you tried to prevent it, to hold yourself back, but all your resolution dissolved in a second the moment you felt jeongguk’s thumb teasing your nub. you jolted forward, still balancing yourself on his chest, his hand on your breast working to keep you straight.

”gguk, i think— i think i’m close again,” you admitted ashamedly, your cheeks flushing but your desire unable to make you stop rutting your hips against his touch, his cock throbbing around your walls.

”yeah? then cum around it, make me feel it,” his low voice spurred you on, the thumb that was teasing you now slicing on your nipple, spreading your slick on your boob.

and that made you let go, for a third time, convulsing on top of him, your cries louder as you spasmed around his thick length, your cunt hugging him impossibly tighter, and for a moment you genuinely feared he’d get stuck.

the strength taken out of you was enough to make you fall onto him, your face in his neck as you panted frantically, his heartbeat matching the speed of yours under your palm laying on his chest.

jeongguk’s voice was weak as he spoke in your ear, his fingers stroking your back comfortingly, “that was amazing, baby. so good.”

you appreciated his constant praises, a lazy grin spreading on your lips, but you couldn't ignore the way he kept thudding inside you, quiet whines stuck in his throat as he tried to conceal them by clutching your sides tighter, stilling himself.

jeongguk wailed feverishly when you lifted yourself up again, resuming your earlier actions, the ones that were bringing him to the point he badly wanted to reach. he was breathless as he took in the determined glint in your eyes, “fu— fuck. doll, what are you—“

”wanna make you cum, gguk.”

he physically couldn’t hold himself from rolling his eyes far deep, bucking up to meet your hips, and the force of his thrusts threw your weak body back on him again, your hard nipples brushing against his equally stiff ones.

”i’ll fuck you, baby, hm? you already did so good for me,” his words were hushed, whispered, delirious, the sound of them overtaken by the sharp pounding.

but he made sure you could feel every syllable, his lips close to your lobe as you held yourself tightly on his shoulders, “so perfect. letting me fuck you good and deep. gonna make me cum so hard, doll.”

your brain couldn’t process any other kind of response other than loud cries, your cunt being relentlessly abused. the waves of your last orgasm still flowed inside you, the buzz coming back to life as the new position gave him perfect access to your sweet, needy spot, hitting it at an inhumane force.

his effort was translated into deep, raspy growls only pushing you closer to the edge, and you swore you could pass out from the overstimulation. but you basked in it, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision.

”you wanna cum again? i know you can, c’mon. i know you got it in you, pretty. just another one. cum with me.”

his pleading, delirious tone undid you. the way you both released with harsh moans was perfectly synced, his hips jolting you forward as you chased your high against his lower stomach. with a few more pushes, he let go fully inside the condom, all the energy being ripped from him at that moment, his hands freeing your waist from the sharp grip while his head fell weakly on the side.

the two of you were almost wheezing, your exhales shaking in your panting chests as you lifelessly rested on him, slowly being lulled by his breathing.

you didn’t even notice yourself slipping so easily into slumber, and if it weren’t for his delicate touch tracing your closed eyelids and moving your hair behind your ear, his sweet voice preventing you from fully falling unconscious, you would have enjoyed just staying in that position forever.

“sweetheart. you sleepy?”

you only hummed, the sound rough and thick.

he removed himself from you slowly, both of you still gasping at the overstimulation, and he gently laid you on your back before tying the condom and throwing it in the bin next to your nightstand.

as soon as your head hit the pillow, your eyes fluttered shut again. the room spun faintly, and your body, exhausted, ignored every request your mind was screaming at you. you were cold, goosebumps rising on your naked skin; your thighs still trembled, a mess of wetness and slick. but you were too tired to move. you could only lay there, sprawled on the sheets.

luckily, jeongguk thought of everything. his mind was full of you, his only thought being taking care of your figure and making sure you were safe, comforted.

he had taken your virginity. it wasn’t just a physical act— it was a gift you had entrusted him with, something you had kept close to your heart, even through all the fears and anxieties you’d shared with him. you had always been afraid to let go, to give such an intimate part of yourself to someone.

but you trusted him, fully and deeply, in a way that you hadn’t trusted anyone before. that knowledge bloomed in his chest like warmth spreading to every corner of his body. he felt a deep sense of responsibility and gratitude. he wanted to honor that trust.

with care, jeongguk slipped away from your side to retrieve a warm, damp towel. the cool air hit your skin as he left, and you stirred slightly, though not fully awake. when he returned and began gently wiping you down, you startled at the sensation, your eyes slowly fluttering open. you were met with his grinning face, his eyes crinkling at the sides, that same boyish smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

“we should clean up, baby,” he said soft, his voice warm and coaxing as he continued to gently clean the slickness between your legs.

“tired,” you murmured in response, your voice thick with exhaustion. “tomorrow.” the word came out as more of a sigh than anything else. you stretched your arms out toward him, your lips forming a small pout. “cuddle. now.”

jeongguk laughed fondly at your sleepy demands, shaking his head as he tossed the towel to the floor. without a second thought, he slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over your naked bodies. the warmth of the blanket and the weight of him beside you immediately soothed the lingering shivers in your body, and you sighed in relief.

instinctively, you reached for him, your leg curling around his, your hands seeking the familiar comfort of his waist. your head rested on his chest, where you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your cheek. his arm wrapped around you naturally, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your spine.

it wasn’t unusual for you to cuddle, especially during movie nights, or simply when the other needed comfort.

but this was different. there was a new weight to the way your bodies pressed together, your brain grasping around the reality of what had just happened.

your first instinct faced with that thought was to chuckle lightly, your sleepy brain struggling to come up with any more reasonable reaction. when he hummed and moved to look down at your face, you hid yourself further in his chest, your voice muffled, “i can’t believe you fucked me.”

he sounded tauntingly cocky as he moved your hair from your forehead, “now that you put it like that, well, i did.”

your drowsy state lowered all your inhibitions, your eyes fluttering close as you spilled your honesty, “i’ve been fantasizing about this moment for so long.”

“yeah? what a naughty girl,” his playful tone made you blush, the low voice and the hand grazing at the small of your back making you clench around nothing, still sensitive.

you lightly pushed at his chest with a weak smile, “you literally said you were waiting for it to happen, too.”

jeongguk’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his tone dripping in mock shame, “did i, pretty? did i do that? oh god, how indecent of me.”

the taunting banter went on for a while, your fond grins almost breaking your faces in two halves as you started a quick tickle war. it was almost surreal how easily the two of you slipped back into the habituality of your dynamic, as if nothing had changed at all. and in a way, nothing had. you were still you, and he was still jeongguk— the boy who teased you relentlessly and made you laugh until your stomach hurt.

as the laughter faded, your body began to relax completely, your muscles loosening as you sank further into his embrace. your head rested against his toned pecs, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. his fingers continued their gentle caresses along your back, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at peace.

but jeongguk, even in the quiet comfort of the moment, couldn’t let it end just yet. his mind was still racing, still full of thoughts of you.

he wanted to hear your voice. wanted to be soothed by its melody. he spoke quietly, almost hesitant, his breath warm against your hair, “don’t fall asleep so soon. i’ll miss you.”

your voice was rough with weariness, but you were quick with your answer, “i’m literally lying on top of you.”

“i know,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly against your waist. “but i wanna talk to you.”

with great effort, you blinked your eyes open, lifting your head just enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes, “it’s your fault if i can’t talk right now.”

“damn, i got a magic stick,” his voice sounded oddly proud of it and you groaned, hitting him weakly on his stomach and causing him to giggle.

“you’re so gross.”

“you hurt me!” he whined dramatically and it made you roll your eyes amusedly.

chuckling softly, you took his face in your hands and pressed your fingers gently against his lips, “shut up.” your voice was playfully fond as you nestled back against him, your eyelids growing heavier by the second, dozing off again.

at least trying to, because only a minute later his soft voice resounded again.

it was barely audible in the stillness, “___.”

“hmm?”

“i’m so happy.”

his whispered voice tickled your ear and you giggled, brushing it on your shoulder with a sheepish grin on your lips.

you looked up at him through droopy eyelids, both your orbs swimming in a deep feeling you couldn’t name, “i am too. i don’t think i can feel my pussy anymore, but i’m very happy nonetheless.”

your wittiness even after being completely drained of all your energy surprised him, the laugh escaping him moving in his chest and reflecting in your own fond smile.

he left a peck on your forehead, bringing you to lay down on him again, “you’re so silly. i love you.”

the words left his lips so naturally, as if he had always known them to be true, and they sounded so right that it took both of you another moment to realize their implications.

your heart stopped, and both of you froze. your breath hitched and your eyes widened, but you stayed still, too startled to look up at him.

you felt his heart beat impossibly faster in your ear, and you perfectly pictured the shock that was painting his expression right now.

his hands clutched your sides tighter, trying to find a way to keep his running mind from spiraling, your silence not helping whatsoever. he stuttered, “i— i mean. i— oh god, i’m so sorry.”

the hurt in his tone immediately made your chest clench, panic flushing in your veins. you met his eyes alarmedly, jumping between them, “jeongguk. don’t be sorry. you love me?”

he wasn’t sure what to do, couldn’t figure out if the feeling was mirrored as intensely in you as it was in him. it had been building inside him for weeks, lingering beneath the surface, making his heart race and his thoughts blur every time you were near.

the realization hadn’t come to him in a grand, sweeping moment but in the quiet of the bookstore one random afternoon. he had been stacking shelves, mindlessly organizing the rows of novels, when he caught sight of you. you were tucked into a corner, absorbed in a murakami novel, your fingers brushing the edges of the pages with care.

he hadn’t expected you to show up that day. he was sure you’d mentioned having lectures and that you couldn’t meet up with him, so seeing you there, completely unannounced, had startled him.

he remembered standing there for a moment, frozen in place, just staring at you walk through the door. and then you had lifted your head, and your eyes met his across the quiet, sunlit room.

the smile you gave him was sheepish as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your confession tumbling out softly, “i skipped my classes. i wanted to be here. needed to see you.”

it was shy, and said with a feeling in your gaze that he was scared to decipher.

but he couldn’t help the way it settled in his heart. stubborn, unmoving. the truth was clearly in front of him, and it took the semblance of your face.

you were the truth. he was in love.

so, he could only be truthful to you, “i— yes. i love you.”

the words sank into your skin, filling you with warmth and a sense of completeness that made your chest swell. you exhaled deeply through your nose, trying to steady the burst of emotion building inside you, but your eyes softened, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you smiled, wide and genuine.

“i love you too, gguk.”

it was a simple reply, but the weight behind it carried everything. you didn’t need to say anything more. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, your lips immediately eating at each other, gulping down your furious flow of thoughts and accepting. hearing. feeling. seeing.

all the times you forced to keep shut and convince yourself that what you saw in him and all his care towards you was just coming from a place that would forever see you two as friends. all the secret touches, the shared meals, the warm nights on your couch. all the books you read for him, all the lines he highlighted for you.

it was love. all along. and you felt its power against him, your heartbeats syncing.

when you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing softly in the quiet aftermath of the confession. jeongguk’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward or uncertain. it was peaceful. comfortable.

and lulled by the quiet, jeongguk ended up being the first to fall asleep, his nervous energy fading away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment. his breathing became slow and steady, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his muscles relaxing.

despite your earlier exhaustion, you were too wired to sleep. you were still flowing with excitement. the night’s events hit you with great force, and kept you wide awake.

quietly, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, careful not to disturb jeongguk. the screen lit up, showing the time. 3:47 am.

even though it was late, you couldn’t resist. you pulled up jimin’s contact and pressed the call button. waiting. he was always awake at this hour.

jimin had been your best friend for years. your loyal confidant, the one you could splutter all your feelings to and never be judged. he had been by your side all along this particular ride, going from a silly, little crush to feeling raging love for the boy in your arms.

you smiled wide at the prospect of jimin’s reaction at the news you were about to share with him. he was the first person you wanted to inform, he deserved to know.

“bitch, don’t tell me you’re crying over jeongguk, ‘cause—“

those are the first words that came through the line, and they made you silently chuckle at the irony, immediately engaging in his banter, “well, sorta kinda. he said he loves me.”

there was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by jimin’s amused scoff, “wow. crazy news. would have never guessed.”

you were stunned, to say the least. your mouth hung open as you whisper-yelled, “bitch! is this seriously all you have to say?”

you were mindful not to wake jeongguk with your conversation, looking down at him with care. his cheek was squished on your small breast, his mouth pouting and releasing heavy puffs. one of his hands rested protectively over your side, and his thumb brushed your under boob.

he was cozily nestled between your legs, his wavy hair brushing your chin, and he looked so peaceful it was like he was made to be held by you.

you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes as jimin’s next words accompanied the view of the boy you loved, now finally yours.

“babe, c’mon, it was obvious.”

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kaiijo · 11 months ago

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ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there.

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life.

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply. he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”)

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”

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sobbingscripter · 3 months ago

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Tags: [mlw][mdni][arranged marriage][friends to lovers][loss of virginity][unprotected p in v][just the tip][oral f! receiving][fingering][aged up][nipple play][UNDERSTAND by keshi for the fluff (trust)][petnames][ra's you little matchmaker you]

"I'm sorry, what?" Bruce's brows raise, nearly meeting his hairline as he stares at Jason, who only nods his head enthusiastically.

"Damian had a bride. Like.... They were married, had a ceremony and everything. It was actually really beautiful, I cried." Jason hums softly before extending his legs out in front of him, booted feet crossing at the ankles.

"And you want us to get this girl, why?" Tim questions, a brow raising.

"Damian's lonely." Dick states. "So... It would do him some good to be around someone he knows. Like... Properly knows."

"For his birthday." Barbara chimes in. "He's turning 19 and he's a virgin. And he's definitely not gay."

"The turtlenecks could've fooled me." Jason snickers softly, before glancing at Bruce's turtleneck, and raising a brow, almost suspiciously.

"We'll get the girl." Bruce hums.

—♱—

"Is this... a house?" Your voice is quiet, almost meek and timid as you look around at the architecture of Wayne Manor, before your eyes move towards the light switches. And you gasp.

"Lights?" You breathe out. "You have magic within your walls?"

They don't know how to react. They don't know if you're joking or if you're serially disadvantaged.

Until you let out a snort of laughter.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you." You snicker, your hands tucked into the pockets of the oversized hoodie you're wearing and you look around.

"You have a lovely home, Mr Wayne. It's lovely to see that there aren't a lot of staff." You smile. A polite, and genuine expression and Bruce damn near melts because shit, maybe Ra's picked good for Damian.

"That's the opposite of what Damian said." Bruce hums and you feel your heart nearly stop in your chest as you repeat the name.

"Damian?"

"Beloved?"

Damian's voice is a quiet murmur, the thick, wooden spined book tumbling from his limp hand as he stares at you, emerald pools wide and pink lips parted to let out the shakiest of breaths.

It feels like time stands still.

You hadn't seen him in so long. The last you can remember is waking up to the sound of screams and clashing blades, blood seeping into the Egyptian rugs that covered the floorboards and you'd found assassins slain.

Body after body after body.

He looks older. Boyish features remain but tinged with the sharpness of maturity, broad shoulders and muscles in place of lean, slender limbs. But that couldn't be anyone else.

The scent of oud and cinnamon musk clings to the air as he takes tentative steps towards you, shaky hands cupping your cheeks and making you look up at him.

You have the same mischievous eyes, your iris flecked with that metallic hue that always seemed to suit your eyes, your face still fits so perfectly in his hands. You're taller than you were, you weigh a bit more, your hips are fuller. Grabbable. There's a sensual dip in your waist that he'll be sure to explore later.

And Damian's forehead rests against yours, feeling the contact of your skin and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"I missed you." You whisper quietly, your voice filling the silent air of the foyer and Damian nods his head.

"As have I." He murmurs quietly. "More than you could imagine."

—♱—

You sit anxiously on the edge of Damian's bed and you watch as he steps out of the ensuite bathroom, steam rising from his tanned skin and rivulets of hot water dripping between the cords of his muscles. His hair is damp, a towel low on his waist before he moves towards you, standing between your thighs and he looks down at you, a hand lifting to cup your cheek.

Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, tilting your head ever so slightly, capturing his thumb between your full lips. And you watch the way that slow blush creeps up his features.

"Still so easy to fluster." You tease him softly and you watch as his eyes narrow.

"Still such a raging asshole." He retorts, before leaning forward, pressing the softest kiss against your forehead.

You lean back against the headboard, Damian's head resting on your lower belly, fingers idly tracing patterns on your hips, exposed by where the T-shirt had ridden up.

"Your head is still fat." You murmur, your voice a soft sound against the sound of Gotham's pouring rain, streets and sidewalks soaked with rain and slippery to the touch.

Bruce had given Damian the night off, and it would be a lie to say Damian doesn't intend to make the most of the night.

Whether it be losing his virginity or falling asleep in your arms like when times were... Ridiculously simpler. When his focus was taking lives and not protecting them.

"I can see the hair on your forearms." Damian mocks, and he watches as you tuck your hands behind your back, a snort of boyish laughter tumbling from his lips. He reaches behind your back, pulling your arms forward before pressing the sweetest kisses to your palms.

"I'm just kidding." He reassures quietly. "I like that you're a Sasqua—" Damian's words are cut off when you push his head back into your stomach, and you can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he's going to argue.

So you card your fingers through those raven strands, scratching his scalp lightly and you watch the way the muscles in his back relaxes, and a minty sigh leaves his lips.

"You're lucky I love you." Damian mumbles, his voice muffled by the slight pudge of your belly and your fingers halt just a bit in his hair.

"Still ?" You question, almost incredulously and Damian lifts his head, staring up at you from beneath furrowed brows.

"The years apart doesn't diminish the fact that you're my wife." Damian murmurs. "My grandfather may have been a dick but he made a good choice to make my best friend my bride."

Your heart swells and thuds. Your eyes feel the tiniest bit misty and almost immediately, your free hand reaches for the bedside lamp, switching off the light and shrouding the bedroom in shadows and silvery moonlight.

"Are you crying?" Damian asks, a tinge of humour in his voice as he sits up, your thighs tossed over his and his hands move to your cheeks.

"...no."

You sniffle, tears dropping down your flushed cheeks in fat droplets, rolling until Damian's thumbs brush them away. His hands are warm against your cheeks, palms just a bit rougher than they were and you feel the way his lips press sweet kisses to your eyelids.

"You complete me." Damian whispers. "Emotionally, not physically." He adds, almost like it needs clarification and you let out a teary snicker.

"Wow, thank you so much for clarifying that." You answer sarcastically, before your hands move to cradle his face, just like you used after a particularly hard day of training and you watch the way the moonlight illuminates his features, and you watch his eyes soften at the action.

Eyes closing to commit the sensation to memory once again and he lets out an almost unsteady breath.

Leaning forward to rest his cheek against your chest, before feeling the familiar feel of a ring that you've chosen to keep on a chain instead.

"It's felt rather... Peculiar without it." Damian murmurs under his breath, reaching for one of the drawers of his bedside table, and tugging it open, and he rifles through the bits and bobs until he finds the tiny satin satchel he was looking for.

And he opens it up, turning the light on but on a dimmer setting, before he pulls the ring out of the baggie.

A tungsten carbide wedding band, two thin gold strips on it, divided by flakes of gold and emerald, encapsulated.

Reaching for the clasp behind your neck, you slide the necklace off and remove the ring. Your wedding ring.

An ornate gold band, the centre stone being an upside down, pear-shaped emerald, accented by two diamonds on either side.

The rings had been too big for either of your fingers, so you'd simply held onto them. But now, you're both old enough.

Old enough to know that the arrangement could be nullified, and old enough to know that neither wanted that.

Damian slides your ring onto your left hand, the act so intimate as he stares up at our face, scanning for any hints of hesitance but he only sees adoration. A hopeful expression of love.

And you mimic his actions.

And there isn't a lick of doubt in his expression, not even a flicker of hesitance, just pure... Relief. Contentment. Adoration.

Damian interlocks your hands with his, enjoying the warmth of the metal against his fingers and he presses his lips against yours in a sweet, adoring kiss that lingers for far longer than one of the friendly pecks you'd give back then.

He savours the feeling of you near, his bare chest pressed against yours, only kept apart by the soft, cotton fabric between you two and he pulls back.

Watching the way you stare up at him through your lashes, kiss-reddened lips parted to let out sweet symphonies of quiet breaths.

And you see his pupils dilate even more in the dim light, as his hands disentangle from yours, moving to rest on the swell of your hips.

You pretend that you don't notice his shaking hands as he reaches for the edge of the T-shirt you've snatched from his closet after your shower, and you pretend that you don't notice the way those same shaky hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble while his knee slots between your thighs, kisses slowly pressed against the soft skin of your neck.

Your hands move to rest on his biceps, manicured nails tracing over the faintest of scars in his perfect flesh and you feel him gently guide you to rest back against the thick, Egyptian covers, his hands anxiously roaming along your sides.

"Does this feel good?" Damian questions softly, his lips sucking a mark into the sensitive skin right over your pulse and you swallow, nodding your head.

You wet your lips when he lifts his head, looking down at you and his muscular thigh presses against your core, feeling the way your pussy throbs against the stretchy fabric of his boxers that you'd stolen.

Damian's sweet when he's guiding your legs to rest over his broad, muscular shoulders.

Pressing sweet kisses along the flesh of your inner thighs, hands gently kneading the fat of your hips with so much reverence that it makes your toes curl.

Especially when his hands move to aid him, thumbs pressing against the puffy, plump flesh of your pussy and parting the lips, watching the way your slick and slippery folds twitch and Damian takes a deep breath.

"How much teeth do you suppose I use?" Damian questions softly, and the amount of stress that runs through your body is insane.

"None at a—or..... Oh..."

Your lips form the cutest little 'o' shape when Damian drags his tongue through your folds, juniper gaze locked on your expression that he finds as a mixture of surprised and aroused.

Your hands move to his hair, fingers carding through them affectionately. And Damian takes that as a sign that he should keep doing that. Long strokes of his tongue have your fingers clutching at his hair, brows knitting into a twitchy frown, your hips nearly bucking.

And you need to stifle a loud and pitchy gasp when he circles what he assumes to be your clit.

"Is that it?" Damian asks softly, before you nod your head, swallowing down every sound that possibly threatens to spill in the quietness of the manor.

And Damian lifts his head, locating the exact spot he just licked and committing it to memory.

"But.... Not all girls' are like... On the exact same spot.." You breathe out quietly, still trying to teach him while he's slowly flicking his tongue along your needy clit.

"I only need to know where yours is." Damian hums, the low vibration causing the pleasure in your belly to build like an accumulating wildfire. And your lashes flutter, a whine slipping past your lips as Damian sucks at your clit, teasing the little button before he lifts his head.

His chin is wet with your slick, and he spits at your hole, watching the way your pussy pulses the tiniest bit before he goes back to lapping at your clit. And one of his muscular fingers slowly push past the ring of muscle, and his brows furrow at the way you twitch around his fingers.

And your toes curl just as his finger crooks.

"Shit, shit, shit..." You whimper, your chest heaving as you feel your orgasm building and Damian adds a second finger, slowly fucking you with his digits, eyes watching the way your body shivers and shudders.

And you grab a pillow, muffling your moan as you cum around his fingers, and Damian swallows, licking up any of the mess and keeping your hips anchored with one of his forearms, resting across your pelvis.

Damian slurps, the sound is lewd and it makes your hips buck harder.

He's gentle. Licking at your clit, teasing the bud until it peeks out from beneath the hood, oversensitive and slippery against his tongue, before he lifts his head.

His chin is shiny in the moonlight that pours in and the low light of the lamp beside the bed. He peels off the towel around his waist, tossing it to the carpet into a fuzzy puddle before he watches your bleary gaze lower.

He's... Thick. Perfect in literally every way. A flushed tip, leaking beads of precum down his long shaft, a pretty and prominent vein on the underside and Damian gives himself a few shy strokes.

Not to excite himself, obviously. Just so the sound fills the silence, and he lets out a shaky breath, before he brushes his tip along your sloppy folds.

The feeling is... Surreal.

Your toes feel like when you put your lips against a TV, a muffled gasp slipping from your lips everytime his slit catches against your clit and Damian shifts, resting your legs against his thighs.

"Are you ready?" Damian asks quietly, his free hand fiddling, thumbing your clit sweetly and you nod your head.

"I'm ready." Your voice is a soft murmur. "Are you?"

And he nods his head, before notching himself at your entrance.

"Tell me if hurts." Damian instructs, before he slowly pushes into you. It's... Uncomfortable. The slightest pinch of pain, but not unbearable and your hands fist at the sheets, before Damian stops abruptly.

Taking your hands and placing the on his tightly toned lower belly, the faintest and thinnest sliver of dark hair between your palms.

"This is so you can.... Control the depth." Damian mutters.

Control.

Damian's never given that to anyone. Especially not over his own body.

And slowly, Damian pushes until his whole tip is nestled snugly inside you.

"H—...How is it?" You mutter shyly, your gaze locked on where the two of you meet, and he swallows.

"Tight... Warm... It's so wet..." Damian shudders, a cool sweat prickling across his skin. "You're so perfect."

"Would you rate it 5 stars?" You question teasingly and he lets out a laugh. A cute snort of laughter and he leans forward, his hands moving to rest on the mahogany headboard, fingers absentmindedly tracing the decadent carvings in the wood.

"4.5." Damian answers. "Because you asked me to rate it."

You watch his stomach muscles flex, his abs rippling beneath his tawny skin before the watch on his wrist beeps. And he lets out a quiet groan, looking down at you with those sweet, adoring eyes.

"I'm sorry— I—" "You don't need to explain." You reassure quietly, kissing Damian sweetly when he leans close enough and he pulls out of you.

"I'll be back before you know it, beloved."

—♱—

"Why do you smell like pussy?" Jason questions over the intercom, his voice staticky over the connection.

"How dare you?" Damian scowls, bringing his hood over his head, obscuring his face in the shadow of the fabric.

"I smell like my wife's pussy. Get it right."

#sobbingscripter #smut #dc comics x you #dc comics smut #dc smut #dc comics #dc #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x reader

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importantpuppystarfish · 3 months ago

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Sibling desire by Wonyoung

Male reader x Wonyoung

Warnings: Incest, totally blood related siblings, pissing (if u dont like the fantasy, simply dont read)

As I walk into my room, I see my sister Wonyoung lying on my bed. Her hair tied up and her smooth legs dangle playfully off the edge of the mattress. She looks over at me with a smile and pats the open space next to her. "Come here, I've got something to show you." She purrs. I feel my heart rate pick up as I make my way over to her. What could she possibly want to show me?

Wonyoung swipes through some images. My eyes go wide seeing the series of provocative pics she took - closeups of her lips, chest, the curve of her hip. She watches me closely.

"Do you like them?" She asks with a flirty wink. My mouth goes dry as my eyes drink in the sight of my gorgeous older sister posed so temptingly. I manage a weak nod in response as she never showed me like this.

"Mmm I took them just for you." She confesses, leaning in close and wrapping an arm around me. My heart pounds in my chest. This can't be real…but it's happening!

"I bet you've got quite the reaction going on under there huh?" She teases, reaching down and giving me an affectionate squeeze.

Wonyoung and I no longer have the chance to spend as much time together as we used to, especially since she’s been so busy with her career in IVE. She’s changed a lot over time, and it’s clear she’s grown taller and become even healthier. She’s no longer the same Wonyoung I once knew as her brother.

Swallowing hard, I gather some courage and lean in closer to her, whispering "You look…so beautiful sister…" My fingers trace lightly over her exposed leg.

Wonyoung giggles. "You're so cute when you blush like that." She bites her lip, her eyes searching mine. "You know…you're grown pretty handsome yourself." She lifts her chin, inviting my gaze to drop lower to her lips.

"Say something…say I'm hot." She whispers breathily.

Even though I know I'm not the most attractive guy, Wonyoung's words send a flutter through my chest. I can see the genuine affection in her eyes as she looks at me. She really does think I'm…cute…

She shifts, moving closer until our noses almost touch. "Come on, say it…say your big sister is hot!." Her voice is soft but commanding. I nod mutely, my throat dry. "Y-you're hot, sister…" I croak out.

Wonyoung leans back and asks "Hey, btw this question got me wondering…" She says slowly, her voice low. "What do you think a typical brother and sister relationship should be like?"

She watches me carefully, head tilted expectantly, waiting to hear my opinion on something much more profound than normal sibling dynamics. Her eyes are curious yet almost flirty.

I nod dumbly, not knowing what else to say. "Loving and…trusting," I murmur, feeling like those words don't quite capture the complexity of sibling bonds.

But Wonyoung takes my response and runs with it. She slides closer, her hip brushing against mine. "Mmmm loving and trusting…"

"Maybe…more than just loving?" "A brother and sister who really…connect."

"What do u mean?" I asked.. Wonyoung swallows hard before explaining. "What I mean is…in the most ideal, close-knit family, the brother owns the sister completely. And the sister owns the brother just the same."

She reaches out and strokes my cheek gently. "No limits, no holding back" Her words make me blink in surprise, where did she develop this kind of mindset from throughout these years?

"I should be your first.. No outside partners allowed." She declares firmly.

Wonyoung gazes at me hopeful yet serious, clearly laid out her vision for us.

Wonyoung puts her hand upon my shoulder trying to hug and then kiss me. I held back as I say "Sister what are u doing!!!?".. Wonyoung pouts when I protest, but keeps holding me tighter. "Shhh…" she whispers against my lips before planting a soft kiss there. "Didn't u say our bond should be of loving and trusting?."

She pulls back just enough to speak again, her breath hot on my face. "You're my brother…and I'm your sister. Isn't this loving between us?" She tries coaxing, hand trailing down my chest.

Wonyoung seeks to reassure as she leans in again, more insistently this time. I can feel her want, yet the wrongness of it all makes me hesitant.

Before I can react, Wonyoung crashes her lips onto mine in a deep, demanding kiss. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she takes control. The kiss is aggressive, all tongue and teeth. Unable to deny her any longer, I give in completely in the kiss. My lips part eagerly beneath hers, savoring the intoxicating sweetness of her kiss. One hand rises to grip her waist tightly as the other tangles in her hair, pulling her closer.

She tastes like everything I've ever craved without knowing it. I surrender completely, losing myself in the dangerous allure of this twisted intimacy between us.

"Huh? U liked it right…" Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung smiles victoriously against my mouth, pleased she's gotten me to respond. "Mmm…good boy…" she whispers, running her fingers through my body. Her hands begin working at my shirt buttons, trying to remove it impatiently.

"You're already mine aren't you brother?" Her voice is low and sultry, her eyes shining with delight at having me under her spell.

She tugs at my shirt again insistently, waiting for me to obey…

She pushes my shirt open, exposing my chest.

"Shhh…" she hushes me again, biting her lip as she palms me through thin fabric. "Do you like that sis…is making you feel good?"

She shrugs off her shirt first, tossing it aside carelessly as she unhooks her bra next. It falls away, releasing her flawless form completely to me. She shakes her hair out, gazing down at me expectantly.

Her tits were perfectly proportioned, small medium sized yet supple. Her bosom is a delicate handful, delicate pink nipples starts to make my mouth watery & hungry.

"Well?" she asks coyly, fingers releasing me just long enough to begin shrugging out of her pants next. "Are you going to watch your sister strip?" Her voice drops another octave, daring me.

My eyes widen slightly when she fully reveals herself to me. I never dreamed this scene totally in my lifetime.

"Do you like it, brother?" She breathes, hands coming to rest on her hips. She pushes slightly against me, seeking contact. "Tell me…" she asks demandingly.

"Come now, get on your knees." Wonyoung orders. She wants me low before she grants me any further privileges.

She takes her own swaying breast in hand and guides it towards my mouth.

"Suck" she commands, voice rough yet compelling. I part my lips obediently and she presses forward, my tongue meeting the stiff peak. She gasps at the contact.

"Yes that's it…" she praises, running fingers through my hair again as I begin to suckle eagerly. Her sweet nectar coats my tongue, sweaty flavors making me thirsty for more. I lose myself in the sensation - it smells and tastes so good. Her skin, the weight of her supple figure in my mouth.

"Mmm yes, keep going, make them feel good…" Wonyoung crooks a leg behind me, pulling me closer until I'm fully engaged between her thighs. Releasing her tits from my mouth, I glance up at Wonyoung with a silent question. She nods eagerly in response.

"Taste me brother…" she purrs, guiding me lower.

I settle between her thighs, inhaling her heady aroma before diving in. I take and deep breathe and start licking her clit. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets as I lose myself in bringing her pleasure.

My senses are overwhelmed, the salty-sweet musk of her, the velvety give of her pussy lips against my tongue, the rhythmic pulsing against my tasting buds as I relentlessly stoke that bundle of nerves. Wonyoung gets so wet and squirts over my mouth as she moans.

"Yes…just like that!" sister gasps out, bucking against my mouth as I drive her wild. Wonyoung grabs my head and pushes me more deep inside her.

Wonyoung squirts more inside my mouth as I swallow it all. My jaw aches from her insistently grinding on my tongue but I don't care - I want to obey, to make her cry out louder.

"Don't stop! Make me come on your tongue!" she cries.

Now the most extreme part, without warning, I feel a hot stream splash across my face and into my mouth. Wonyoung releases a surprised laugh as I'm suddenly showered in my own sibling's piss warmth.

"Well well, did you like your sibling's taste?" she asks teasingly, still catching her breath. I genuinely replied her I loved it because why not? It tasted so delicious yet taboo. She reaches down and wipes out the dampness from my face by licking me with her tongue.

"There now, all cleaned up." She grins.

`😁' continues

Wonyoung sinks gracefully to her knees before me, running her palms up my thighs as she looks up with a coy smile. "My turn to return the favor…" Blowjob time!!~ Now as she takes me in fully in one smooth motion. I bite back a groan at the sudden enveloping warmth.

Her tongue swirls expertly around my length as she begins to move, focused solely on me now. I tangle my hands in her dark locks, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of her so intimately connected to me.

As Wonyoung gives me a head, her eyes never leave mine, locking me in place with that defiant gaze even as her mouth brings me such wonderful pleasure. She takes me deeper.

She uses one hand to stroke what she can't fit, twisting lightly near the tip. Her lips pursue a rhythm - up, over, down again.

She grazes her teeth along my shaft on the way back up, a wicked glint in her eyes. The sensation sends shivers through me.

"You taste good brother…" she purrs before diving back down again.

Me taking advantage of my sister's submissive position, I grab a fistful of her hair and guide her back down roughly. "Open up sister." She lets out a small, surprised sound but parts her lips obediently. I push deeper than before, hitting the back of her throat over and over. Her fingers dig into my legs as she takes everything I give. "Such a good sister…" I murmur approvingly.

I deepthroats her deeply, she is taking all of me down her throat. Wonyoung chokes and gags as I use her mouth without mercy. Tears prick her eyes but she forces herself to relax and accept my aggressive advances. She looks up at me defiantly between gasps for air.

"Mph! Mmmph!" she whimpers in protest yet doesn't fight back. Her hands move to try and stroke my leg reassuringly as I claim her throat so roughly. She knows she deserves this punishment for pushing me so far already.

I lose control suddenly, releasing my dirty yellow urine unexpectedly inside her mouth. A small gasp escapes her as she gulps down every last drop. She swallows quickly when warm liquid hits her tongue. Surprised look crosses her face. She pulls back a little, eyes wide. Accidentally swallow¿…

She pulls back, lips sealed as she looks up at me disapprovingly. "Oh my, did you just piss on ur dear sister's mouth?" Her voice drips with fake scolding. She opens mouth to show me completely coated on her tongue.

"You made quite the mess brother…"

She closes mouth and swallows once more before speaking again. "But I suppose I should expect such accidents from you." A hand comes to rest lightly on my thigh in mock reprimand.

(Wonyoung takes control now)

She stands abruptly, causing me to stumble back a step. With hands on her hips, she looks down at me with newfound confidence.

"Enough of me being sweet elder sister." Her tone is firm yet playful. "Time for me to ride you hard lil brother!"

She pushes me down face first onto the bed sheets. The boldness of her switch to dominance sends a thrill through me.

I lay in the bed fully and Wonyoung starts to climb on top and me.

As Wonyoung is straddling over me now, she guides me between her legs. My tip probes her slick folds before she sinks down, gasping as I stretch her for the first time.

"Yes, that's it…" she purrs, working to seat herself fully upon me. Her hands grip my shoulders as she grinds down hard, enveloping every inch.

"You're mine now…" she declares with a wicked grin.

(Now that she has me inside, Wonyoung starts to jump and ride my dick!)

Bouncing up and down, she sets a rhythm, riding me deeper with each roll of her hips. Her tits bounce as she picks up speed, face flushed with pleasure.

Wonyoung rides me fast. She leans back, hands braced on my thighs, exposing her bouncing tits very properly now. Her cries get louder, the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping together. She must have done this before…

She chuckles darkly as she sees my pain since shes jumping over me so rough. Her pace suddenly becomes relentless, pounding down hard again and again. She grips my hands and pins them down, refusing to let me escape the incredible sensation building inside.

"Does my little brother like when big sis rides him rough?" she taunts, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're so sensitive…you're going to…"

She bites her lip, grinning wickedly. Her slick heat grips me tighter, claiming every inch.

Wonyoung leans forward to me to have a french kiss. Our mouths meet in a deep, passionate kiss as our bodies move as one. Her tongue slides against mine, mingling flavors on my taste buds. She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips…

"Mmm yes, keep up brother…"

She begins to grind harder, waves of pleasure radiating outward. The scent of her mouth is wonderful. I can feel my own release rapidly approaching despite the initial discomfort. Wonyoung seems determined to push me over the edge…

"You're close aren't you?" she purrs, her fingers digging into my chest as she bounces faster.

Our lips lock once more as I spill everything deep inside her hot depths. As I can't really say anything due to kissing with her, I show a signal I'm about to CUM! She feels it too, muscles clenching around me as she smiles triumphantly.

"That's it brother…let it all go," Wonyoung murmurs against my ear before sitting up again. She looks thoroughly pleased with herself for me bringing such a sweet release.

Wonyoung grinds down harder, relishing the feeling of my seed coating her walls. "Mmm yes, u filled up my insides bro…" she pants out.

She moves more slowly now but the sensation is still intense as she uses me to satisfy herself. I watch in amazement as she rests through the pleasure besides me.

My sister's glistening, saturated folds continue to cling to me even after spilling everything. Her delicate petals swollen and stretched completely full of my thick seed. She must look utterly claimed by me…

I take a peek down below to see the mess I've done on my sister's pussy. She catches me staring down below and winks playfully. "Like what you see?" she whispers, a hand coming down to scoop up some of my spilled cum glistening on her fingers. Bringing them to her mouth, she licks them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Damn ur such a naughty sister. May I ask when did u get so horny like this?" I ask. Wonyoung replies as "well well, my bsf Yujin had sex with her father. So she suggested me why not i have with my brother too? After that I'll tease our dad and I'll make him fuck me too"…

I tilt my head curiously at her response. "Yujin and her dad too?" My eyebrows rise in surprise. "So this was her idea?"

Wonyoung nods, tracing idle patterns on my chest with her fingertip. "Mhm. She said it felt amazing having such a close forbidden connection with her dad." Her eyes glint mischievously. "Now I want our Dad to give me that too…"

Despite feeling slightly jealous at the thought of my dad being with my sister next, a dark part of me stirs with intrigue. Seeing my usually sweet, innocent sister like this makes me feel things I shouldn't…

"Sister!…" I start hesitantly. "Are you really going to sleep with Dad too?"

She nods again, her face lighting up delightedly. "Mmmhmm! He's next on my list." Her fingers wrap around my arm possessively. "Just you wait…"

She grins wickedly, already planning out her tactics to seduce him. "Dad won't stand a chance against my charm." She giggles. "Once he's mine, we can share stories and jokes about how we've each…taken care of one another." She bites her lip, clearly excited about her dastardly scheme.

Wonyoung pauses thoughtfully then adds, "Oh by the way…" "Leeseo is your age right?"

I nod in response and she smiles excitedly.

"She's so cute! I bet you'd like sleep with her too huh?" She winks at me. "Why don't I bring her over one day? She's still an untouched virgin but we've had a little fun together like lesbo stuff."

My eyes go wide hearing this news about what my sister and her friend (Leeseo) did. But Wonyoubg just giggles, running her fingers through my body.

"Maybe the three of us can play next time. I'm sure Leeseo would love to join." She grins deviously, clearly imagining all the ways she could involve others in her growing web of sinful encounters.

I agree & nod to everything what she says. Now as I announce I need to use the bathroom for my stress relieve, Wonyoung grins wickedly. "You don't need that room sweetie. What are you gonna do in there? Pee?" She asks teasingly.

At my confirmation that yes, I just need to relieve myself, she laughs. "Why waste ur good fluid going down the drain when you have me?"

My brow furrows in confusion but before I can respond she's kneeling before me, eyes alight as if eager for this bizarre request. She looks up expectantly.

"Go on now…let it all out for your sister" she purrs. As I piss, she drinks it directly from where it produces like a dog. My sister Wonyoung, with who I had a typical sibling relationship with, has unfortunately turned into my human toilet and sex partner.

#girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop gg smut #Wonyoung smut #izone smut #wonyoung smut #IVE smut #wonyoungsmut #twice smut #Kpop girl smut

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tojisun · 10 months ago

Text

still thinking about childhood best friend simon and that lake house

thinking about how simon is so forceful at pushing your boyfriend out. he’d wake up early in the morning and shoot you throngs of messages, things like if you wanted to take a morning walk with him, and take the dogs out or something.

and when you roll over, plucking your chiming phone from the nightstand, ignoring your boyfriend’s grumbling, you see simon’s messages and think nothing of them.

(simon would never—you told your man; you told him that simon’s just clingy because it’s been years since the two of you met again, that simon’s a good man.

“please trust me?” you whispered, and he had to hold back his glower because of course he trusts you.

it’s simon he doesn’t trust, but it’s not like he could say anything when your parents adore simon; when your mom pinches simon’s cheek before giving him extra servings, or when your dad claps simon on the back, telling him how he’s grown so tall and how he dearly remembers when you used to tower over simon back in your youths.

simon’s so woven into your family so how could your boyfriend ever say anything against him? he’s fucking royalty at this point—beloved by everyone.

even your nephews stare at simon with starry eyes more than they do their own dad.)

so you agree to every little outing that simon proposes—morning walks, drive to the local shops, going to liquor stores together, completing errands alone for your family.

you tried to include your boyfriend but simon and him never got along, and you just got so tired of of trying. this is your long-awaited vacation, so why the hell are you playing telephone with your two boys?

so you divided your attention then, with how the two of them are so stubborn when it came to you.

but—

simon knows you. he knows how to catch your attention.

so night dates with your boyfriend turned into a hangout with simon inviting himself in. he would always walk with you two to your room, crash in the bean bags and ask what would you all watch tonight. or he would tug you all to the family game room and make up a game that would end in you and him teaming up against your boyfriend. or he would propose a night swim in the shallow ends of the lake, and it’s always his shirt that he’d hand to you when you get chilly.

it’s these little things that add up; little things that you never really questioned because you grew up with simon, you grew up doing all of these with him, but—

simon’s different now. he’s a lot taller, a lot broader. he’s a lot more beautiful than you ever remembered.

and something in your chest unfurls, choking the threads of your rationalization—

oh god.

(simon walked in on your boyfriend packing his bags, his chest heaving and his eyes red with tears. and all simon ever tells him is, “y’need a ride?” because finally.

finally the motherfucker got the hint.)

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #suns #giggling omg. lake house drama with simon is the shit im on rn <3 #totally not based off some guy i like in the nhl LMAO :/

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livinghalfway · 4 months ago

Text

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events.

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!"

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side.

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway.

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer.

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him."

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time.

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-"

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!"

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!"

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind.

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least.

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-"

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief.

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind.

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce.

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all."

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this.

Damian is a twin.

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin.

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose."

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound."

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!"

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small.

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again.

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #batfam #damian and danny are twins #dc x dp prompt #dcxdpdabbles #danny phantom

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my-castles-crumbling · 28 days ago

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for @a-chance-of-raine - t4t jegulus - very slightly nsfw

“Wait. Stop,” James panted into Regulus’s mouth, making him pause.

And for a moment, Regulus had to curb his annoyance.

They’d been dating for six months. Six months. And at first, he’d very much appreciated James being a gentleman. Chaste kisses for a while, then his hands firmly on Regulus’s shoulders or behind his neck or around his waist when their encounters got more heated. It made him feel safe, especially when he was still working on his feelings toward his body, and his fears about how James might react.

But then time stretched longer and longer. And Regulus started trusting James more and more.

He didn’t worry as much about the other boy’s reaction to him. He just worried about the deep, gnawing need pulsing inside him.

But, six months later, and James was still stopping him every time he so much as ran his hand down his chest.

“James,” he muttered, sitting back and giving him a hard stare. “It’s okay. You don’t have to…to go slow with me anymore. I want…”

But the other boy grimaced, causing Regulus’s stomach to flip. “No! No, Reg it’s not you!” James immediately reassured him, realizing how Regulus had taken his look. “I…I’m going slow for me.”

“Oh!” he swallowed, sitting back, feeling a bit guilty. “Oh, okay! We can go as slow as you want, of course…” but he trailed off, because he was a bit confused. The way James looked at him, with hunger in his eyes and clear desire written over every part of his face, didn’t match up with this.

“I just…” James sighed, and moved back from him a bit as well. “I need to tell you something. But I don’t know how.”

“Oh,” he said again, mind starting to spin towards the worst conclusions. Was James straight, maybe? Or–fuck. Had someone told him?

“I’m trans.”

Regulus gaped for several long moments, certain James was fucking with him.

“Yeah…I…sorry. For not telling you,” the taller boy said sheepishly. “I just…I really like you. And I was nervous…and then, I got worried you’d be mad about me keeping it from you, and it kind of spiralled, and–”

But Regulus burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face.

“It’s kind of shit of you to laugh…” James mumbled, eyes moving down and face turning red.

“No! No, just…I am, too!” Regulus gasped, lightly grabbing James’s cheek and meeting his eyes.

James gasped. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well…that’s great, then!” he replied, eyes lighting up. But then, he frowned. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Regulus asked, tilting his head.

“That explains why Sirius told me we have a lot in common. I thought he meant we both like Quidditch,” James laughed, eyes bright.

Regulus could only chuckle before pulling him back into a kiss. “Idiot,” he mumbled against his lips.

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 7 months ago

Note

Yandere batfam or justice league with a reader who’s afraid of strong people/men due to a past abusive relationship? She never wants to feel that powerless and weak again so she actively avoids interacting with anyone stronger, bigger, taller any more than necessary. She doesn’t hold it against other ppl she just has a lot of trauma that she’d rather not work through and feel safe in her little bubble

Hit me Hard and Soft

Synopsis: You get saved by Robin, but not everything is as it seems.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: All characters aged up, of course; Mentions and descriptions of violence, including physical, psychological, sexual and financial abuse, and Damian fighting criminals (I'm particularly proud of the action scene I wrote); Drugging and being unconscious; Mentions of death of minor characters and suicide; Mentions of past grooming (Reader's ex) and age gap (Reader’s ex, Reader X Bruce, and the batboys age is not mentioned); Implied stalking; Mentions of kidnapping; Reader's very traumatized and weary of everyone; Reader doesn't trust the police; Mention of a panic attack and descriptions of actual panic; Guns and knifes; Mention of cigarettes; Implied needles; English isn't my 1st language.

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Wish I had more interactions between Reader and the batboys here, but I'm more than willing to make a part 2 with the right idea.

General masterlist | Hit me Hard and Soft - Series masterlist

He's back again. You wish you could say you didn't know why he always came back, but you did. The food wasn't that great and it wasn't that close to where he told you he worked or lived. It also didn't help that he always made sure to be served by you. And that he flirted with you.

— Evening, (N/N)! Is there something as sweet as you on today’s menu? — You gave a small and polite laugh.

— Strawberry pie… As always…

It was kinda sad, but mostly scary. If it wasn't for your ex, you would be thrilled to have gotten the attention of Dick fucking Grayson. The whole city knew he was handsome, rich, talented and charismatic. Gotham's sweetheart, Gotham's golden boy. And from your daily interactions, he lived up to the expectations. He was polite even when flirting with you and asking you out. Yet, something held you back.

— Nice! Since you get out in a few, why don't you bring in two slices? One for me and one for you, it's on me, of course. — You shook your head quickly, with an empty heart, just wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

You were with your ex since you were 17 to 26. Almost 10 years wasted on a dirtbag. He convinced you to leave your friends, to leave your family, to leave your job. As soon as you started living together, you were completely dependent on him. Sometimes you blamed him, sometimes yourself, sometimes the people you had around you, but back then, where you came from, people weren't questioning the imbalance of powers between a 17 year old highschooler with no job and a 23 year old man with a steady job and living alone.

He convinced you that going to college and ending your relationship was the worst decision you could take. Then, that you didn't need your family, he could take care of you. One day, he decided you couldn't have friends.

He often locked you inside the house, cursed your skills and appearance, neglected your overall health, intimidated you, screamed at you, broke your things that he did and didn't pay for. He hurt you physically, even sexually. You knew both dating him and leaving him was hard, you just expected living with the scars was going to be easier.

And it was! You decided to run away from him and to Gotham when you received the news that your mom died and he didn't even want to let you go to the funeral. The grieving made you reflexive and you realized how shitty your situation was. For years you just thought that it would eventually get better, that you just needed to be strong, that he showed he loved you when he wasn't being an asshole, that you couldn't get anything better, that he made you feel special.

You couldn't even go to the police, he was a cop, you knew the chances that in any scenario you would lose. So you ran.

You knew it was dangerous, but you had nothing to lose. If he didn't kill you, you would do it yourself. You made a plan, drugged him, took some of his money, used his house keys, left everything behind for the second time in your life. You didn't waste time asking for help from the people you knew. You took the bus and went as far away as you could.

Your paranoia was so bad that for almost a year, you would settle in a city, work to save up enough, and leave again, rinse and repeat. Eventually, Gotham seemed big and far enough to go by unnoticed.

Or that's what you thought, until Dick Grayson stopped by the diner you worked to have breakfast before going to work, as a cop, and decided you caught his attention.

Since then, he came back everyday. Either breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just to hang out with some family member, usually one of his brothers, his dad appeared with him sometimes too. Your boss loved the attention Bruce and Tim attracted, the two most media active ones, since they both led Wayne Enterprises.

Eventually, even them started appearing multiple times a week. You thought you were healing, until you found yourself crying for almost four hours at home in a panic attack.

You didn't want their attention. Not only was it weird, but they were just so… Superior to you.

They were all taller, more muscular, faster, smarter, richer. It was like reliving the beginning of your relationship at 17, plus 10 times worse. Five because they were five people mirroring your ex, and more five just because of your trauma, experience, negativity and lack of naiveness.

Also, why were they ALL into you??? And they were aware of it! It was weird! Why??

Bruce Wayne was disarmingly charming in his dilf way. Dick was surprisingly accessible. Jason was soft spoken despite his resting bitch face and leather jacket. Tim was cute in a nerdy way. Damian almost made you laugh with his sarcastic humor.

Either way, you never wanted to feel as little as you felt before, so you just did your job, acted polite, but ultimately kept your distance.

Freedom has its difficulties, one of them being that you need money, and for money, you need a job, which means sometimes you have to stay until closing time, at 11 PM, in Gotham.

You're not the only employee to stay so late, but you and your co-worker live in opposite directions, so walking alone it is. They're taking the bus, but you only live two blocks away, so you gulp down your anxiety and keep walking. One hand on your pocket, holding your taser firmly, and keeping your head up, turning to look at every sound.

It's cold, and the street is empty and dimly lit. Some places are so dark that you wonder why you're even paying taxes if the streetlamps won't work.

Two men turn the corner a few meters in front of you, one at least a foot taller, the other, two inches max. They're wearing hoodies and their hands are on their pockets, the light behind them creates a shadow that doesn't allow you to see their faces, nor where they're looking at, but they are coming in your direction.

There's a car, parked between you both. Some people might think at this point it's just paranoia, but you’ve heard stories of people walking next to cars, getting pulled inside by someone who was hiding in there, and getting kidnapped.

Your first instinct is flight, so you turn around, ready to run, even if you look weird in case those guys weren't planning to do anything with you, just to see other two guys emerging from the other corner, those two almost as tall as that first guy. Aside from the smaller one, they're all broad, even with their thick clothes covering them.

One of them has a cigarette on his mouth, which he throws on the ground when you turn your attention to him. Your fear might have caused you to hallucinate, but you're almost sure he's smirking.

You freeze for a second, your only escape is to run to the side, and pray their long legs don't get to you first. You think you hear one of them start hollering at you.

You only take a step to the side, when a loud crash startles you so hard that you have to look behind, while walking backwards to the street. You take a second to process the sight.

Robin is standing in the middle, just a few steps behind where you were standing a second ago. He's at least half a foot taller than all of them, and a lot broader. He's holding the tall one by his neck with his right hand, repeatedly hitting his head against the car’s window.

You're shell shocked, torn between staying put to watch this disaster, as interesting as a car crash, or running away. Gotham is so big that you never thought you would encounter one of its heroes, you weren't sure if you even wanted to.

When the guy seems to stop moving, Robin throws him against one of the other tall ones, the guy practically flies across 2 meters before hitting him, and when he does, they both fall to the ground. You remember all the times when your ex pushed you to the ground.

Your eyes are wide, horrified, watching the shortest guy take a pocket knife out of his pocket. Your throat locks, even if you want to scream for Robin to turn around, you only manage to stare and stay in place, however, the vigilant turns halfway around just in time to grab the guy by his wrist and his arm, just as he launched to stab him. He uses his body’s impulse to push the guy forward, the knife going to the fourth guy's shoulder, you hadn't even seen him get so close to him.

You look at the man from the car, he's still unconscious, the one who got tackled with him, however, is already standing and walking to the fight.

Everything’s happening too fast, you turn to the side to see the guy with the knife on his back on the ground, groaning and twitching in pain, while Robin is punching the shit out of the other guy, movements faster than you could ever dream of achieving. You remember being on the receiving end of someone's fists before.

With a final elbow to the cheek, the guy stumbles to the ground, you don't know what level of consciousness he’s in, by his posture before, you knew he was already compromised since the first hits he took.

Robin doesn't move, doesn't even turn to look at the guy who just fell, he's just looking forward, and when you notice this, you look at the remaining guy.

He's pointing a gun at him.

You don't think you can watch someone get shot in front of you, and you know if he gets rid of Robin, it's over for you. Logically, you knew these vigilantes somehow never die, still, it's counterintuitive to think he won't.

And he doesn't, in the blink of an eye, Robin's on the air, his right boot kicking the gun away, while still on the air, he wraps his legs around the guy's head, bends backwards, puts his hands on the ground, then launches his whole body to the front, the guy getting thrown over him. He falls to the ground, Robin stands on top of him with perfect balance. You don't even have time to process what just happened, the coolest and scariest thing you saw your whole life, when Robin punches him one last time. Now, he's definitely unconscious.

You’ve felt like a bystander this whole interaction, it felt like ages, but in reality all of this couldn't have taken more than 20 seconds, maybe even less than 15. You don't know what to do now. You're theoretically safe, but Robin’s still too big, too strong, too fast. He knocked out four guys without getting touched a single time. He broke a car's window. He threw around two guys who weighed at least 80kg. He's not even panting. And now he's looking at you.

A whimper gets stuck in your throat. You don't know if you should thank him, stay silent, or yell at him to stay away from you. When he takes a step in your direction, your instincts get the better of you and you turn around, running.

You hear him call your name, although your brain doesn't process it. You see headlights and look towards it. It's a car. You don't trust you’ll get help, but at least you're not alone. You run in it's direction, waving your arms and screaming bloody murder.

The car almost hits you, but you don’t process that until the last minute, but you get tackled to the ground just in time by the hero from before. You scream again, he's too close. Now, he's trying to hold you down. You keep screaming and trying to escape. You look to the side and the car just kept driving away, likely the driver wouldn't stay behind to be another victim to Robin's hands. You know you're not being rational right now, those guys are known for helping people, he just saved you, he's still trying to stop you from getting hurt, but you're scared. You've been scared since you were a teenager.

Your eyes burn, your arms and throat hurt, but adrenaline doesn't let you feel anything. Not even the invasion of a needle on your side.

— Was it really necessary? — Tim deadpans Damian, who growls.

— You would have done the same, Drake.

— No, I wouldn't. You were supposed to use the psychological first aid approach and (Y/N) would've calmed down and trust us more in the future. But of course, you never use your brain. — Damian growls, stepping towards Tim, but he is stopped by Dick’s hand resting on his chest.

— Damian, calm down, Tim’s right. You knew better than to sedate them. You knew of (Y/N)’s trauma and you knew the route we wanted to take. — Damian's brows furrowed and he crossed his arms.

— I knew your feelings toward (Y/N) would make you become impulsive again. — Tim looked at Bruce, who was silent, with hands intertwined and elbows on the table, focused on your vitals on the screen and the sight of you laid on the bed on the medbay. — Will you now consider just letting you, me and Dick keep an eye on them during patrol? — Damian and Jason scoffed.

— Why you aiming at me now? It was the demon who gave that guy brain death! — Jason protested and Tim looked at him.

— Just to be sure you won't freak out like him and kill thrice as many people, on purpose this time. — Jason glared at him.

— B, you better add more security measures around (Y/N), before Timbo tries to clone them or something. — He muttered with snark.

Dick shook his head and sighed, going to stand on Bruce's side, crossing his arms and looking at you through the camera with him.

— What's the plan now, B? They're probably waking up soon. — Bruce hummed, relaxing his stance and resting his back against his chair. The silence lingered for a few seconds, everyone just looking at you, waiting for the oldest’s opinion.

Bruce turned around, looking at them.

— … Damian, Tim's right. You were impulsive today and you killed someone, even if it was an accident. I stopped expecting that from you since you were 12, you're an adult now. You not only broke our trust, but (Y/N)’s already shattered trust. They need to know they're safe with us, and drugging them, instead of puting to use more time and effort to bring the comfort to them, is not going to do that. You weren't much different than the man who hurt them tonight. — His father's words were like a punch to Damian's stomach, leaving him speechless. Dick pursed his lips, not turning around as to make it easier to not comfort his brother just yet. Bruce turned to Tim. — Tim, I understand you want to take measures seriously. But you need to give Jason a chance. That was unasked for. — The mentioned blinked, still unacostummed with the treatment he received from his dad when he followed his rules. Tim looked away. Bruce turned to Damian again. — Damian, no patrolling around (Y/N) until you prove we can trust your temper again. — He waited for a confirmation, which came with a sneered lip.

— Yes, father.

Dick looked back a Bruce.

— What about (Y/N)? — He bit his lips. Bruce hummed, turning to look at the monitor again.

— … What do you all think?

— Well… Damian said their name, they might not remember it, but they can't just wake up at home. They’d try to flee from us. We could bring them home earlier, but our ideal plan was to make them come willingly, in the period of at least two years, in the best case. We could leave them at the hospital, and just keep our plan going. — Dick listed the possible strategies they could take. Bruce hummed.

Tim piped up.

— I already altered their phone's algorithm to send the job application as my assistant at Wayne Enterprises to them. And the Wayne Foundation’s application for the internship at Gotham Uni. — Bruce nodded.

— Damian? What do you understand about that? — It was clearly the beginning of his test.

— The more secure in their independence they feel, the easier it is to heal and open themselves up to new opportunities. — Damian exclaimed with confidence. Bruce nodded.

— Jason, are you still interested in college? — Everyone looked at Jason surprised, he was also surprised, he hadn't talked to Bruce about college since before he died.

It took a few seconds to processes what it would mean.

— Uh… I think so?! — Bruce nodded.

— What about me, father? — Damian spoke inquisitively. — I also want more opportunities to get closer to (Y/N)! — Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

— We will think about that when you're in the clear.

— But-

— That's final. You reap what you sow. — Damian huffed and nodded begrudgingly. — … Now, since Robin was the one to save them, take the batmobile and leave them in the hospital. Then come straight back home. Understood? — Damian clenched his jaw and nodded silently, leaving to get your unconscious body.

Moments later, when you were both out, on the way to the hospital, Tim fiddled with the computer, the scream showed the batmobile’s tracker, your tracker, Damian's tracker, Damian's contact lenses’s camera and the car’s camera. They all looked at him.

— … It's just to make sure…

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taurasiluvr · 10 months ago

Text

SIZE KINKS WITH MY FAVORITES !

including . . . paige bueckers, diana taurasi, emily engstler & caitlin clark

how you can help palestine

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. lesbian... sex, a lot of it lmao. fingering, praise, size kinks.

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p also just wanted to add i tried making this as inclusive as possible, if you are plus-sized, let me know if this was good !! its never my intention to make anyone feel left out, my writing is for EVERYBODY (except men)

PAIGE BUECKERS (slight nsfw)

⠀ ── ⠀paige is taller than most people, standing at around 5"11'. all her previous partners were taller/around her height so once she'd began dating you, everything kind of shifted and she loved it. she likes to tease you about it a lot – and yes, she is the type to purposely put the mugs on the highest shelf so that you call her over – and with some convincing (she loves seeing you struggle on your tippy-toes, trying to reach), she'll come and help you.

however, not only does she love it – it turns her on exponentially. the way she could easily push you around and assert her dominance in small, playful ways became an undeniable part of your relationship. she adored the way you looked up at her with those wide eyes, the mixture of surprise and amusement whenever she effortlessly moved you out of the way or pinned you playfully against a wall.

paige found herself reveling in the power dynamic, her hands lingering on you a little longer, her touches a little more deliberate. the height difference allowed her to envelop you completely, to make you feel secure yet electrified by her presence. she loved how easily she could lift you, how her strength contrasted with your smaller frame, and how it made her feel in control yet deeply connected to you. every time you called for her help, whether it was to reach something or open a stubborn jar, she felt a thrill run through her. it was more than just the physical act; it was the way you relied on her, the way you trusted her to take care of you in those moments. that trust, that dependency, was intoxicating for paige.

she wouldn't call it a kink per say – more like an aspect of your relationship that added an extra layer of excitement and intimacy. she loved the way you looked at her when she teased you, the playful spark in your eyes that matched her own. it was a game you both played, one that kept the flame of your relationship burning bright. and while she wouldn't call it a kink (it for sure is), she couldn't deny how incredibly turned on she was by the way your dynamics played out.

“need some help, shorty?” she called out as she walked into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with that familiar, mischievous smirk.

you sighed dramatically, “you know, you could just put things where i can reach them.”

“but where’s the fun in that?” she teased, stepping closer.

she pressed herself against your back, reaching up effortlessly to grab the bowl. you felt her breath on your neck, and a shiver ran through you. she lingered, her body warm and solid against yours, and you could sense her enjoying the moment. her arm brushed against your side as she placed the bowl in your hands, and she didn't pull away immediately. instead, she stayed close, her fingers lightly tracing the line of your shoulder.

“you're too cute when you struggle,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear.

you turned around to face her, your heart racing. the playful glint in her eyes had shifted to something deeper, more intense. she looked down at you, her height making you feel both vulnerable and cherished.

“it's not fair,” you said softly, but your voice lacked any real protest.

paige smiled, her hands coming to rest on your hips. she leaned down, her forehead touching yours, and you felt her warmth envelop you.

“that's too bad cus i really enjoy it,” she murmured, her lips dangerously close to yours. you scoffed, shaking your head dramatically as she laughed.

you could feel the heat between you both, a magnetic pull that had your pulse quickening. she loved having this slight edge over you, the way it made you look up to her – both literally and figuratively. unable to resist any longer, she closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. you responded immediately as her arms wrapping around you, lifting you slightly off the ground, making you feel even smaller in her embrace. the kiss deepened, and you melted into her, your fingers tangling in her hair.

when she finally set you down, you were both breathless. paige's eyes were dark with desire, and she pressed her forehead against yours once more.

“you drive me crazy, you know that?” she whispered.

you smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “great. now, can we get back to making dinner? ’m starving.”

she laughed, a rich, joyful sound that made your heart soar. “only if you promise to keep needing my help with the high shelves.”

you nodded, a playful glint in your eye. “m’kay.”

DIANA TAURASI (nsfw)

⠀ ── ⠀she knew what she was getting herself into the moment she began dating you. unlike paige, she would (and has) admitted to having a shameless size kink. diana towers over almost everyone, being 6ft and all – but it really gets her going when it's you.

in bed, she never ever shys away from showing you not only how small you are compared to her – but how strong she is. diana's eyes gleam with anticipation as she playfully pins you down, her muscular frame effortlessly holding you in place. the contrast between her towering height and your smaller stature ignites a primal excitement in her. she loves the way you fit perfectly against her, the way she can envelop you with her body and make you feel both vulnerable and protected at the same time. diana takes immense pleasure in using her height and strength to her advantage, positioning you just where she wants you, lifting you effortlessly, and holding you in place with ease.

she's fiercely confident, and it shows in every movement. diana knows exactly how to play with the power dynamic, teasing you with her dominance while also ensuring you feel cherished. her touch is commanding, yet tender, and she enjoys exploring the boundaries of her strength and your responsiveness.

when she's not pinning you down, she enjoys playfully lifting you, carrying you around, or simply holding you close to her, making you feel small and cherished. diana's size and strength are constant reminders of her presence, and she loves the way you respond to her, the way you melt under her touch, the way your breath catches when she effortlessly moves you. and again, it turns her on in a way she can't even begin to explain.

diana's enjoyment of her size kink isn’t just physical; it's also deeply psychological. she loves the way you look at her with a mix of awe and desire, the way your body reacts to her dominance, the way you crave the unique dynamic you share. it's an intoxicating power play that she never tires of, of strength and submission that fuels her passion.

diana's eyes gleam with anticipation as she pins you down, her muscular frame effortlessly holding you in place. the contrast between her towering height and your smaller stature ignites a primal excitement in her.

“look at you,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “so tiny beneath me.”

diana revels in this dynamic, the way you squirm under her dominance; it's a game she loves to play, and you're a willing participant.

she lifts you with ease, her hands gripping your waist as if you weigh nothing. you feel the heat of her breath against your skin as she whispers, “could hold you like this forever, princess.”

there's a possessive hunger in her eyes, a deep-seated desire to remind you of your place in her world. she seats you down on her lap as she spreads your legs, you could feel her breath fanning on your neck. she rubs your clothed pussy, earning a moan from your lips. her lips quirked up into an excited smirk as she watches your reaction.

“you like that, don’t you?” she teases, her voice low and husky. her fingers continue their relentless teasing, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. the friction, even through your clothes, sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“such a good little thing for me,” she praises, her tone both affectionate and commanding. her free hand moves to your hip, holding you in place with a firm yet gentle grip. the intensity of her gaze never wavers, her eyes drinking in every expression that crosses your face.

she leans in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “love how responsive you are,” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin. “every little sound you make, every shiver... it drives me crazy, baby.”

diana's hands grow bolder, one slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin, the other continuing its tormenting touch. she revels in the way your body reacts to her, the way you arch into her touch, the soft gasps and moans that escape your lips.

“mine,” she murmurs possessively, her voice a mix of desire and adoration. “all mine.”

with each passing moment, the intensity between you builds, a potent mix of lust and intimacy that leaves you breathless. diana's dominance is unwavering, yet there's a tenderness in her touch that speaks volumes about her feelings for you.

her lips find yours in a searing kiss, full of passion and possessiveness. her hand moves faster, the pressure increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “wanna hear you, princess.” she demands softly, her voice a tantalizing whisper against your lips.

EMILY ENGSTLER (nsfw)

⠀ ── ⠀emily liked the fact she was much taller than you, but it wasn't until she finally slept with you when she realized how much it turned her on. in daily life, it was honestly just a plus for her – she loved holding your hips as she led you places, feeling the way you fit perfectly against her side.

she reveled in the little things, like reaching for items on high shelves for you or wrapping her long arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walked. it made her feel protective and strong, and she could see the appreciation in your eyes, the way you leaned into her touch. and like paige, she'd never call it a size kink even though... it for sure was.

but it was in the privacy of the bedroom where emily's height advantage truly came into play. the first time she had you beneath her, your smaller frame dwarfed by her own, she felt a surge of excitement that she hadn't anticipated. the sight of you looking up at her, wide-eyed and eager, was intoxicating – it got her wet beyond comprehension.

she loved the way you responded to her, the way you would shiver under her touch, your breath hitching as her hands explored your body. emily found herself becoming bolder, her confidence growing with each gasp and moan she elicited from you the more you guys fucked. she'd pin your wrists above your head, her grip firm but gentle, and savor the sight of you laid out beneath her, completely at her mercy.

emily's dominant side thrived on your willingness, your trust in her. she enjoyed the power play, the way she could effortlessly maneuver you into different positions, the way her strength made you feel both vulnerable and cherished. it was a thrilling dynamic, one that brought you both closer together.

outside the bedroom, her dominance was subtler but no less significant. she'd guide you with a hand on your lower back, steer you through crowds with ease, always keeping you close. the height difference was a constant reminder of the bond you shared, a dynamic that seeped into every aspect of your relationship.

"you're so beautiful," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "love how perfectly you fit with me."

with a fluid motion, emily lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the bed. you gazed up at her, feeling a familiar thrill as she towered over you, her presence both commanding and comforting. she straddled your waist, her long legs framing your body, and leaned down to kiss you, her lips capturing yours in a slow, passionate kiss that left you breathless.

she pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire. "you like it when i take control?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

"yes," you breathed, your response immediate and sincere.

a smile curved her red lips as she pinned your wrists above your head, her grip firm but not painful. the weight of her body pressed against yours, a delicious reminder of her strength and dominance. she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "good," she whispered. "cus i love it too."

CAITLIN CLARK (nsfw)

⠀ ── ⠀caitlin never missed an opportunity to show you how small you are compared to her. whether it was easily pushing to the side or or lifting you up as if you weighed nothing, she reveled in the stark difference between your statures. it was a reminder of her strength and dominance, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill every time she did it.

caitlin's dominance showed in countless little ways, she loved wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you through crowds with an ease that made you feel safe and protected. her height allowed her to effortlessly reach things on high shelves for you, a simple act that never failed to bring a smile to her face. she enjoyed playfully teasing you about your size, her comments always laced with affection.

caitlin's physicality was a constant presence, whether she was picking you up for a quick kiss or pulling you into her lap while watching a movie. she thrived on the power dynamic, finding joy in the way you responded to her strength. your smaller frame seemed to increase her confidence, making her feel both powerful and nurturing.

her protective nature extended beyond physical gestures. caitlin was always looking out for you, her sharp eyes and quick reflexes ensuring you were never in harm's way. she took pride in being your rock, someone you could rely on no matter the situation. this sense of security and trust deepened your bond, reinforcing the unique dynamic that defined your relationship.

in more intimate moments, caitlin's dominance took on a deeper, more intense form. she loved exploring the contrast between your bodies, the way her hands could easily envelop yours, her arms strong and reassuring around you. she loved watching your reactions, the way your breath hitched and your body shivered under her touch.

she placed you gently on the bed, her hands lingering on your hips as she leaned down to kiss you. the kiss was soft at first, but it quickly deepened, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your heart race.

caitlin pulled back, her eyes dark with desire as she looked down at you. "you're so perfect like this," she murmured, her hands sliding up your sides. "so small and delicate."

you shivered under her touch, the weight of her gaze making you feel both vulnerable and incredibly turned on. caitlin's hands were firm yet gentle as she pinned your wrists above your head, her body pressing against yours. the sensation of her strength holding you in place sent a wave of excitement through you.

"you like it when i take control, sweet girl?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

"yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

a satisfied smile spread across caitlin's face as she leaned down to kiss your neck, her lips leaving a trail of faint hickies in their wake. her hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour with a possessive hunger. she loved the way you responded to her touch, the way your body arched and trembled beneath her.

"so fucking pretty," she whispered against your skin, her voice full of adoration. "all for me."

her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but moan softly in response. caitlin hands moved to your hips, gripping them firmly as she positioned herself between your legs. her fingers teased your entrance, you were practically dripping and caitlin loved it.

"so wet and i haven't even touched you yet, baby." she mumbled as she looked down at you, her lips quirked into a smirk.

her finger slipped into your sopping cunt as your head fell back in pure ecstasy. she added another finger, then another and you swore you've never felt more full in your life despite it just being her fingers.

"let go for me," she urged, her voice a soothing command. "wanna hear you."

with each thrust, the sensations built within you, your moans growing louder as you neared the edge. caitlin's touch was everywhere, her presence overwhelming and comforting all at once. you clung to her, your body responding to her in a way that was almost instinctual.

when you finally reached your peak, you cried out her name, your body shuddering with release. caitlin held you close, her strong arms wrapping around you as you came down from your high. she kissed your forehead, her lips gentle and tender against your skin.

"my sweet girl," she whispered, her voice filled with genuine affection. "i love you so much."

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

2K notes · View notes

reignpage · 3 months ago

Text

Frat Boy!Gojo

Cosmopolitan: sober thoughts

Word Count: 6.1k Contents: their first date, cursing, a little angsty, but mostly fluffy, not proofread (barely skimmed this so again, dunno how much sense it makes)

“Before you get any bright ideas, just know I’m sharing my location with at least ten people.”

Whistling, the biggest pain in your ass saunters over to you

The moon is full, a big white orb that would otherwise bring you a lot of peace to look at but right now, only pisses you off for reasons you’d rather not spend too much time pondering. Rarely anyone comes around these parts; it’s at the very edge of the city, a half-hour drive from campus, and surrounded by miles of dull, old suburbia. You’re standing in front of a metal gate, slightly taller than you, with vines wrapping around the pickets. It swings slowly with every gust of wind, creaking before it meets the stone wall with a bang.

Gojo grimaces.

“Seriously, did you have to choose the scariest place in all of Eden? I mean, I respect the commitment to the aesthetic, but this is just crazy,” he grumbles, eyeing the cathedral from its huge marble pillars to the sharp spires piercing the night sky.

You roll your eyes. Trust him to leave the date planning to you just to complain every step of the way. You’re already regretting playing along with whatever games he’s conjured up this time, but at least you’ve got home turf advantage; you know this place like the back of your hand. There won’t be any surprises happening tonight.

Without replying, you walk off, heading straight through the gate.

“Hey, wait! Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to end up as a statistic.”

Shrugging, you say, “If you’re scared, you can go back home.”

When he doesn’t say a thing and follows you, you smile. You win. But that feeling of victory doesn’t last very long because then he starts muttering about the cobwebs and how they’re everywhere, then about the tombstones, how they’re so messy with moss covering the engravings and that ‘the spirits must definitely be like so mad about all that’, and when you don’t respond to any of his musings, he even complains about the eerie music foreshadowing his pending doom, like in Jaws.

There is no music.

“Where are we even going?” He pokes your shoulder, snatching his hand back faster than you can swat at it. “I thought we were going to, I don’t know, have a picnic under the stars and cuddle on top of someone’s grave, like Mary Shelley did.”

“How the fuck do you even know about that?”

Gojo lifts one shoulder. “Must have heard it online or something.”

You roll your eyes again — you have a feeling you’ll be doing a lot of that tonight, maybe even for the rest of your life if things go the way your parents plan. When you had first found out the village idiot is the president of the most sought-after fraternity of the most prestigious university in the country, you thought maybe no one else had stepped up. But then you found out he’s a Legacy --the Gojos have governed that fraternity since its conception -- and well, the pieces fell into place.

Mischief no doubt sparkling in your eyes, you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes are full of suspicion and when they meet yours, he becomes even more doubtful of your intentions. With a grin, you whisper, “We’re going someplace no one will hear you scream.”

“Kinky.”

That didn’t have the desired effect. How annoying. Though you don’t fail to notice how he moves in closer to you, his warmth radiating to your body through your black, fur cloak. You don’t shift away.

Gesturing for him to follow you through a gap in a wooden fence, you squeeze through to avoid splinters, pulling at your dress when a piece of lace catches on a nail. Just as you’re about to offer advice on how to contort his body to get through, he climbs over the fence and lands on his feet without stumbling, all in one quick sweep, like he’s who wanders these hallowed grounds at night and not you.

“What?” He asks when he spots your glare.

Not even those stupid sunglasses are out of place. Very annoying, indeed.

“Come quickly,” you bark, fixing your silk gloves to cover more of your skin as the chill settles in. It’s only six in the evening, and yet there’s no hint of light in the broad expanse above you, just the moon and the stars lighting your way, and occasionally your companion’s phone flashlight when he needs to look at what he’s stepped in.

He laughs. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Do you make it a habit to talk about your sex life with a girl on a first date?”

“You’re the first, so not a habit. Not yet anyways.”

Screeching to a halt, your hand clutches his elbow to still him. Your jaw is slack and you’re staring, completely disbelieving. “There’s no way this is your first date. You took that girl to the casino.”

Gojo stares off into the distance as he ponders the notion, fingers tapping his chin. Then, he insists, “No, it really is my first date. And anyways, I don’t consider that night a date; she pretty much invited herself along. It was more like I was just taking her to the casino as her escort. Or maybe that does count as a date. If so, then I’ve been on a lot of dates. But none where I’ve actually used the word date. Does that even matter because —“

You wave a hand in front of his face to cut off his rambling; he talks way too much. “So, you’re telling me, I’m the first girl you’ve ever asked out on a date? That’s insane, Gojo. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests with a frown.

“You sure acted like you did for months,” you counter.

He insists, “I don’t hate you. Never did. I just acted out but yeah, I’m sorry. I was a dick.”

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and continue walking. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I can get on my knees and beg.”

“Don’t tempt me, Gojo.”

He catches up to you and hums a playful tune, his light mood returning; Serious Gojo is gone like he never existed. “Guess that’s what you’re into, huh?”

“You’ll never know,” you snort, pushing a branch away from your face and letting it snap back into his chest, he yelps.

His hand reaches past you, lifting a thicker branch high above the both of you, before leaning close to your ear and whispering conspiratorially, “We’ll see.”

Disregarding the shiver than runs through you, you push on, moving almost on muscle memory alone. Your mind is attempting to distract itself by scanning the area, being careful not to be caught on church grounds after hours, pushing through the woodland to get to the clearing tucked away at the very back, where you go for peace and quiet.

Truthfully, you have no idea why you decided to have this date here, of all places. This place is sacred. Literally but also figuratively — this is the place you always ran to when the world got a little too loud, a little too busy and bright for you. No one else knows about this haven as far as you’re aware and you always thought you’d do anything to keep it that way. And yet, you’re showing it to him. Actually, guiding him to the place.

You should have at least blindfolded him so he couldn’t memorise the way.

Maybe you wanted to spite him by living up to his expectations and being the gothic monster that he thinks you are -- you want to scare him off before he lets his curiosity take him too close to something that might scald him. He needs to be afraid of you.

Or maybe you recognised that shadow in his eyes, the ones that suggests he’s lost as much sleep about this whole farce as you and thought he could do with a little silence.

You both arrive at a thick bush, a massive wall of a shrub towering over even Gojo. Behind you, the cathedral is only a blob, lit up by lanterns, whereas you’re both submerged in darkness; there are no streetlamps here.

“I’m totally going to be murdered here, aren’t I?” He whistles as if to say, ‘it’s been a good life, and I’ll have to just accept my fate’.

“Yeah, I was lying when I said it was all water under the bridge. I’ve actually been colluding with the devil to sacrifice your white ass.”

Gojo laughs.

He laughs a lot, but rarely like this, you note. He chuckles when his friends do something stupid like push him into the fountain, and he snorts when he reads the most recent article on The Bulletin. But you’ve never really seen him throw his head back and clutch his stomach, at least not with anyone but you. He does it when you get caught texting him under the dinner table, when you give him the middle finger from across the Quad, and that one time you bumped into him in the hallway and almost apologised before you realised it was him.

It’s the kind of laugh that’s infectious, and you hoped every time he does it that you’re somehow immune. However, when he looks at you with a brightening sparkle in his eyes, you realise you’re very much not.

You clear your throat again.

“Through here, is a very special place. You must swear you will not desecrate this place, lest the Mother Crone curse you for your treachery,” you announce, wiggling your fingers at him for extra flair.

Placing a hand on his heart, he stomps his foot like a soldier and swears, “I would never. I will take this secret to the grave.”

Satisfied, you grab the loose part of the hedge wall and pull it aside to reveal the little doorway to your secret hideout. He throws you a side glance before he ducks down and enters. You follow behind him, tucking the disguised door behind you.

He doesn’t say a thing as you zoom to the side where you grope for something in the grass, right under part of the hedge. When you feel the smooth, cold plastic, you don’t hesitate to switch it on.

Long wires of fairy lights light up, bulb by bulb, along the top of the hedge and down, like a really wide Christmas tree circling the hidden clearing. You hear him mutter a ‘woah’ under his breath as he scans the area — there’s only one thing here on the flat ground, it’s also lit up fairy lights along the top pole. It’s your most prized possession.

“You have a swing?” He shouts incredulously. Giggling like a child, he makes a run for it, jumping onto one of the two seats where he rocks back and forth on his feet. Then he’s whooping as he swings higher and higher, hair whooshing back and forth as he grins, taking in the cold autumnal air and the growing warmth of the lights. “This is freaking awesome!”

Sitting on the spare seat, you kick your feet gently so you can swing a little. Deep down there was a worry festering within, anxious that he would find this place boring, that he’d scoff at your idea of fun especially on a first date, but looking up at him, still hollering and grinning, you think, that was such a silly thought.

Gojo slows to a mild back and forth momentum and wonders, “Are you sure I’m allowed to be here? This place seems pretty private, like your own mancave or something. Do girls have a version of a mancave? ‘Womancave?”

In the corner of your eye, you see him clamber down to sit as you answer his question. “I wouldn’t have taken you here if you weren’t allowed, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced this isn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me and hide my body in a grave.”

“Neither.” You shrug.

He laughs.

Eventually, you both swing side by side, alternating up and then down. The wind is howling a little, rustling the trees surrounding you and the moon’s obscured by dark cloud. Neither you nor he say anything to break the silence. You were also worried that you’d come to hate his presence in your safe space, finding his tall, lanky presence an irritation, but surprisingly, you don’t mind it.

It’s nice to have company.

Especially when that company is keeping his mouth shut.

“How often do you come here?”

Or not.

With a sigh, you reply, “Like twice a week. I can’t come as often as I’d like because of all the classes and stuff, not to mention all the wedding planning we have to do.”

“Guess you have it worse than me since I don’t even need to be fitted for a suit; they already have my measurements,” he muses.

“For whatever reason, it’s always the women who have to plan these things, even though it’s the men that propose.” You accidentally make eye contact with him. “Or at least, that’s how it usually goes.”

Gojo hums, a little sheepishly, before he changes the subject. “So, how did you find this place?”

“We buried my grandmother in the graveyard when I was fifteen. We were close and I took the loss pretty hard. I couldn’t stand all the people pretending they cared so I ran off, got lost and found this clearing. Well, I actually fell through the hedge, but I found it, nonetheless. And this swing was here already. I don’t know how long it’s been here or why it’s here, but it is.”

“That sounds like a fairytale.” He swivels, swinging a long leg over to straddle the seat, facing you as he leans back against the metal chain. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I lost my grandmother too and it was rough.”

You saw that on the news years ago, it was one of those private family events that make the national headlines by complete virtue of the family name. Your parents grieved in public like it was their own loss and you didn’t understand why. Of course, as you got older, you became more and more acquainted with the idea of ‘reputation’ and ‘public image’, but you still feel that same distance to the concept as you did when you were but a child.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you repeat back to him.

He shrugs. “It’s alright. I’ve got my gramps. We’re best buddies.”

“You have a lot of best buds, don’t you?”

Gojo strikes you as the kind of guy who makes friends easily, thought you question the depth of most of those friendships; sincerity is a rare phenomenon in your world.

“No,” he huffs, “I have Suguru, the girl that gave you my number, and gramps. I have lots of close friends, though.”

Considering his words, you realise you don’t have any best friends. Sure, you have friends you hang out with often, people that share your interest, that you can party with, but none you feel as strongly about as he does with those three people. You can hear it in his voice, the conviction, the pride, the confidence. And when you glance at him, you know he doesn’t even realise how defensive he sounds about his people.

How nice it must be to have someone like him as a friend.

“We could be friends, if you’d like,” he offers, and when you look at him with confusion, he adds, “You said it out loud, silly. You think I’m a good person to be friends with. Which, of course I am. I’m like super awesome.”

You burst out laughing. What he said isn’t even funny and he certainly doesn’t mean for it to be, but for some reason it is. So, you laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach. He makes noises of complaints, telling you it’s rude to laugh at people. That makes you laugh harder.

“Gojo, be serious for a second. We can’t be friends, idiot,” you push out between puffs of laughter.

He frowns, lips twitching to fight back a smile at your flushed face. “Why not? We’re getting along fine right now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, for now. But we’re going to be married. Or at least, we’re supposed to be. And think of all the complications that brings, it just doesn’t provide the conditions for a healthy friendship, especially considering our beginning. Think of all the people in our circle who had arranged marriages. How many of them get along? Like, really get along. Hell! Think about our parents.”

“Well, we could be different. We don’t have to end up like them. We can break the cycle or something.”

You stop laughing.

Something shifts in the air, like the moon’s reappeared, the wind’s slowed down, and his eyes shine just a little brighter. It’s sudden and you almost don’t notice it, almost shrug it off. But there’s a sincerity lingering between you and it demands your attention.

Fixing him a solemn look, perhaps similar to the one he gave you before, you assert, “That sounds an awful like an admission of surrender, Gojo.”

“Maybe it is.”

The speed at which he concedes, the sheer resolution in his eyes and the way he doesn’t falter when he says it all scream at you something you won’t accept. Can’t.

He grips your elbow, his long fingers wrapping around the limb with ease, demanding your attention. The sombre expression on his ghostly face haunts you. It’s like he’s shifted into a different person, into someone years older, a man burdened with great responsibility.

“I’m sorry. About how I started this year off. I regretted everything I said as soon as I said them. I can’t even remember why I said and did those things, but I definitely don’t have a good reason,” he rasped, a desperation lacing his words like he needs you to understand, like he tosses and turns over it. “I know you’re just as much a victim of this as I am, but I was facing a problem I didn’t know to solve, and I lashed out. At you. At someone who didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry.”

You reel back, snatching your arm away. His touch burns the way ice does, and you have to rub warmth back into it, despite the layers between your skin and his. The sincerity in his eyes is alien, revealing far more about the ongoings of reality than you can absorb in one night. Confusingly, your heart is pounding to the beat of a song you’ve never heard before.

This date thing, taking him to your secret haven, giving him the opportunity to see you not as the enemy but rather as a woman was a mistake. It’s all one big mistake. It would have been fine if he had stayed as the Gojo you knew, the boisterous, obnoxious party animal that cares only about immediate gratification. But the man in front of you is not someone you can marry. He isn’t the type of man you can be around and feel absolutely nothing for.

“I’m hungry,” you mutter, standing abruptly.

He looks up at you, something passing in his eyes, almost akin to disappointment or sadness, and you can’t bear to think about what that could mean, so you simply gesture for him to follow you.

In silence, you walk back the way you came, using your phone’s flashlight to navigate through the thick haze of darkness. This was a mistake; you let him in for a second, gave him a glimpse into your life, and you aren’t even sure why. Was it because you could hear your mother’s voice telling you to do whatever it takes to drag the man to the altar or because, despite yourself, you actually wanted to see what going on a date with Gojo means?

Maybe it was both.

Or neither.

You’re losing more and more of yourself these days, doing things you’d never thought you’d do for one reason or another, and you no longer even know what you want. Your pride or your family? A marriage with Gojo or the friendship he’s offering? Is there’s a third option.

“What’d you wanna eat?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stares up at a streetlight.

You’ve both made it back onto the main road, the swings a mile away. He didn’t press the topic more, simply walked beside you and pushed branches away like before.

It’s nearing eight in the evening and your stomach growls.

“Who said I’m eating with you?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and pokes your shoulder. With a sulky tone, he groans, “Don’t be mean. You’re hungry, I’m hungry, let’s eat. Simple!”

“Can you cook?”

He beams, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks at you over them, bright eyes sparkling with what you can only guess to be mischief. You realise you really should think before you speak.

—

That’s how you find yourself in his frat house kitchen, cloak discarded, hair up and gloves off. His frat members are out, partying, he claims, so the whole house is free. When he suggested it, you looked at him like he was insane, but he only wiggled his brows.

“You scared?” He cocked his head, grinning at you in a way that made you want to punch his teeth in.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you responded, “No, of course not.”

Gojo bent his arms and rocked his head, making clucking noises that echoed in the empty street. Every note pierced your body, mocking and goading. You knew exactly what he was doing, and it was fucking working, the stupid bastard. Without responding to his accusation, you stomped over to his car and gave him a glare. He fetched his car keys and spun them on his finger with a victorious whistle.

“Grate this,” he orders.

His kitchen is huge, which is understandable for the size of the house and how many people live here. Apparently, there’s three more kitchens in the damn place, not that you believe even a quarter of the guys that live here know what a cutting board is. The kitchen is surprisingly clean, however. It’s sparkling clean.

“We have cleaners that comes in every other day,” he chuckles, noticing your looks of complete judgement whilst he boils some pasta. “But we are pretty strict on cleanliness, regardless. And everyone knows, I’m not afraid to crack the whip to keep everyone in line.”

Scoffing, you clarify, “You? Cracking whips? I find that hard to believe.”

He leans against the island you’re stationed at, the sound of water simmering filling the small space between you. Watching you grate the cheese, he hums, fingers fiddling with the lace of your sleeve. He mutters, “I know how to be serious when I need to be.”

You hum too.

Still fiddling with the fabric, you ignore his wandering hand, fingers slipping under to roll the soft lace between his fingertips. Goosebumps rise on your skin. His touch is tentative, hesitant and gentle — one would think he’s just afraid to snag the fabric, acknowledging the craftsmanship, but one glance up at him, seeing his gaze fixated on your exposed skin more than your sleeve, you know otherwise.

“Hands to yourself, Geralt.”

“If I’m Geralt, that must make you Yennefer,” he retorts. With a laugh, he pulls away, returning to the stove to tend to the pasta sauce. You don’t realise how much warmth he generated until you feel a sudden draught.

The smell of frying onions and garlic is delicious and you’re becoming more and more starved by the second. He’s agile, moving swiftly and on muscle memory as he opens drawers and cabinets to gather the things he needs.

“How often do you cook?” You ask, arm getting tired from the motion of grating the block of cheese.

Gojo shrugs and admits, “Not as often as I’d like. Weekends are for parties and pizza and all the other days, everyone’s doing their thing, studying or whatever, and eating by myself is kinda sad, so I just eat out usually.”

“How is it possible that you eat out so often but still remain so skinny?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the next thing you know you’re being spun around and pressed into the island with a hard body. His arms are caging you in, keeping you still as he grins at you.

He had thrown his jacket by the door when you both walked in; his biceps bulge as he flexes. They’re so much bigger now, or maybe they were always like that. And he’s pressed so close his Adam’s apple is right in front of you, bobbing when you tilt your head back so you can meet his eyes.

“I’m plenty jacked, actually,” he brags and to add salt to the wound, he leans down, cheek brushing against yours to whisper against your ear, “wifey.”

You shove him off, snorting at his lame line. He back away with little protest. Trying to hide the heat in your face, you wash your hands, turning away from him completely.

The rest of the hour passes by in a blink of an eye, and you finally sit down at the dining table across from each other. He’s a decent cook and you pay him a compliment even though it physically hurt to do so.

“Do you not cook very often?”

“I make sandwiches and ramen, that’s as far as I know how to do,” you admit with no shame.

He pours you a cup of water and asks, “Do you not have a chef to pre-make meals for you? My father insisted I have one, but I complained to my gramps about the lack of privacy and independence, and he gave up pretty quickly.”

You pause. It’s a stupid question to ask someone, from anyone else it’d drip in condescension, but you know he’s genuinely asking and it’s a valid question, just not one you’re ready to answer. So, with a careful shrug, you say simply, “I’m fine with the way things are.”

Gojo doesn’t sense the tense quiver of your voice, or if he does, he has enough tact to ignore it, so he continues the conversation. He talks to you about what being a frat president entails, and you tell him your experiences as the Treasurer.

He also shares stories of his friends: the time ‘the gang’ snuck into the gym to put shaving cream in Toji’s locker after he had his room bubbled wrapped down to every single pair of boxers, each and every one of his friends’ drunk habits, and how he’s actually a lightweight so he sticks to beers most of the time but he hates the taste and actually much prefer cocktails.

“Wait, wait,” you say between laughs, “you drink cosmos in secret ‘cause you don’t want your frat mates knowing their president actually hates beer?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But it isn’t my fault those things taste like wheat piss!”

You laugh harder. “They do! They totally do!”

“Has anyone ever said you have a pretty la—“

“Woah!” A voice yells out. “What’s going on here?”

You both turn to look at the wide-open door. Two men walk in, they’re in gym clothes, wide toothy grins on their faces as they stare between you and their president. You recognise them as second years, often hanging around Gojo in pictures or loitering in the Quad.

One guy, a fake blond, wolf whistles when he sees you. “Satoru, you didn’t tell us you were having a girl over. It’s been a while; we rarely even see your bestie nowadays.”

“Yeah, this is a sight for sore eyes. This place was getting too much hotdog and not enough buns, if you know what I mean.”

When they both guffaw, you grimace. Their voices are grating, like sharp notes, and despite yourself, you cower in your seat. You hate the way they’re looking at you, in half desire and half repulsion — they’re enjoying the sight of a woman in their space, but they don’t know what to make of your attire. Usually, you don’t let people like them get to you, not their comments and not their stares. But something’s different, you’re more sensitive, less guarded.

“Isn’t she your fiancé? We’ve heard all about her. The girls from Delta Sigma said she dresses like a witch, and well, they aren’t entirely wrong.”

“Get out.”

Three heads turn. Gojo’s standing; you hadn’t seen him move. He’s leaning on his fingertips, head hanging as he stares at his empty plate. No one says a thing. There’s no air in here anymore. Only silence, a grim, gut-wrenching silence.

They stammer. “H-hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Get. Out.”

“Come on, we’re just messing around,” the fake blonde chuckles nervously.

Gojo looks up, slowly, like a creaking door. When his eyes settle on them, they stagger back with the force of his disappointment, and again with his wrath. Though you feel the tendrils of that infinite space between you, you don’t bear its impossible weight.

With his body tense, veins bulging along his arms, broad shoulders pushed back ready for something you can’t quite grasp in this moment, you realise he really is jacked. And those muscles aren’t just for show or pressing girls against marble countertops.

As great as it would be to be his friend, it’s even greater to not be his enemy. You didn’t realise it then, but you do now, if Gojo had ever really wanted to make someone disappear, he probably could have done so.

“You would do well to remember that I, as descendent of the founder of Alpha Phi Delta, have a right to terminate any fraternity brother’s membership without a need for sufficient cause. Just because I’ve never exploited that clause doesn’t mean I’m above it. So, get out. Now.”

Cheeks red and heads hung low, they walk back out without sparing you another glance.

Gojo sits back down, shoulders still tense.

The silence hasn’t disappeared, but it has lightened, much more tolerable now. With an uncertainty in your movements, you push your knife and fork together and pat your lips dry.

“Well, this has certainly been an eventful night,” you say. “I really ought to go, though.”

Gojo nods and takes your plate, leaving to go to the kitchen whilst you freshen up in the bathroom.

When you come out, he’s already waiting outside with his hands tucked in his pockets, staring up at puffs of clouds he breathes into the night sky. There’s a sombre air around him, like you’re better off not disturbing him, but when he spots you from the corner of his eye, that air evaporates and he beams, literally brightens, practically shadowing the moon.

“Hey, come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm,” he asserts with a smile.

And he does. You get into his car for the second time of the night and watch the campus blur past you. Through the ten-minute car ride, he sings along to the pop songs on the radio, bopping his head to every beat like they’re coursing through his veins.

“You don’t know these songs? Really?”

He’s completely incredulous, looking at you as if you’ve grown two heads. You roll your eyes and jokingly explain you’re committed to the aesthetic. He finds that funny. The rest of the ride continues wordlessly.

“Alright, this is me,” you announce when he parks. He climbs out the car with you, leaning against his door as you shuffle awkwardly on your feet. “Despite certain parts of the time being…stiff, should we say, I had a lot of fun. Surprisingly.”

A tinge of red colours the tips of his ears. “Yeah, me too. I expected to lose my life, or at least a few limbs, at that graveyard, so I’m pretty happy with the turnout.”

You roll your eyes. “And I’m very happy I’m not covered in pig’s blood coming out of your frat house.”

“No, closest we had to that was the pasta sauce,” he chuckles.

“Which was surprisingly delicious, by the way. You should cook more often instead of the junk food you eat.”

“Says you?” He pushes your shoulder lightly. “Miss Cup Noodles.”

“Whatever.”

The conversation dies there, laughter fading as both of you eye the doors of your dorm building. You pull your cloak tighter around you, irritated that, even though he’s just in jeans and a plain graphic tee, he’s seemingly unbothered by the temperature drop.

“You should go in,” Gojo suggests, voice softer, barely louder than a whisper.

You nod and make a step to go, but then a warm hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back. He’s carrying the weight of it in his palm, thumb grazing your wrist. There’s electricity thrumming where he touches and you’re about to snatch your hand away before he tightens his grip.

“Just a second,” he mutters, before pulling out something from his pockets. Something black.

Your gloves.

You forgot to put them on, having left them in the kitchen.

He’s taking his time, smoothing the material over your knuckles, ensuring your fingers are tucked in properly. His thumb lingers on the curve of each finger, exploring the slopes. Your breath hitches as his hands envelope yours completely, his touch deliberate and light and there’s no other way to describe it: it’s positively reverent.

The glove slide snugly into place, a second skin but they feel new, as if fresh from the machine, still warm.

You shouldn’t let him reach for your other hand, shouldn’t just watch as he unfolds the other glove, slipping it on with much more care than you yourself had ever done. His eyes are watching the fabric consume more and more of your skin, until they meet the ends of your sleeve, and no skin remains.

“Gojo,” you breathe out.

He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “Satoru. Call me Satoru.”

When he finally looks up, your eyes meet and your pulse quickens, quick and short breaths pulling your chest up and down. You didn’t even realise one hand is clutching his shoulder whilst the other remains in his grip. And you certainly don’t notice that you’re standing much closer than before, only a hair’s breadth from finding out whether his lips are as soft and plush as his touch.

“You smell really nice,” he whispers, thumb running across your knuckles, like he’s willing warmth into your hand.

You’re so close it only takes one gust of wind to push you together, to taste what a future with him could mean, to seal the first date with something that’ll keep you up at night. Just one kiss, one bad decision and everything could fade away for a second. You could pretend he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl and this is a normal date, that you have a normal relationship and tomorrow you could go back to being arranged lovers.

His lashes flutter, so long and wispy and you’re jealous. Flickering between your eyes and your lips, you know he’s searching for any sign that you might want this just as bad as he does. You’re craning your head back, back arched to reach him, and when your chest rubs against his for a millisecond, he shuts his eyes with a groan.

“Hey! If it isn’t Gojo,” a gruff voice bellows.

You step back, gasping for air and desperately smoothing your skirt down as you give a shaky smile to the newcomer. He’s a tall, buff man wearing shorts and carrying a basketball. He pats Gojo on the back, oblivious to the tension, to the way his friend is pouting, grumbling about how he ‘ruined the moment.’

The man looks at you with a friendly enough smile, eyeing your appearance with nothing more than curiosity before he gives you one of those manly nods.

“Whatcha doing at my girl’s dorm?” He asks.

Clearing his throat, Gojo answers, “Just dropping my wi—I mean, my friend off. Yeah, just stopping by.”

The guy doesn’t look ready to stop talking. So you take the initiative to excuse yourself with an awkward kiss on the white-haired boy’s cheek and you whisper, “Goodnight...Satoru.”

You don’t wait for him to reply.

Just as you’re about to enter your dorm building, you hear a distinct, “Dude, I totally cockblocked you, didn’t I? Fuck, put that thing away. You’re gonna poke my fucking eyes out!”

You smile just as your phone pings.

#jjk fluff #Gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk crack #jjk x you #gojo satoru #modern au

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urrmomzfavorite · 1 month ago

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PAC: Your Next Relationship (who, where, when)

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile One🐲:

Who: A bombshell—someone sexy. You’ll see this person as eye candy. They’ll catch your eye the second you’re in the same room as them. They have a magnetic aura, they command authority simply with their presence. They could be taller than average. I’m hearing tall,dark and handsome. Where: I’m getting the image of someone’s hands holding your waist, saying, “Excuse me?” Ooooh, this is dangerous. The second they touch you? Electrified. The eye contact lingers, and the sudden rise in temperature sets your body on fire. You’ll fall for each other at first sight. I can feel the sexual tension, the people around too.lol. This is this type of thing when everyone at work can clearly see you guys like each other but you still play it slow. This feels like having a crush when you’re younger. Getting excited to go to work because you know they will be there. This is really cute, you guys make each other blush. When: This could happen when you’re starting something new—maybe a new workplace, a vacation, or even a cruise for some. It could happen after a move, I see movement. You won’t see it coming, but trust me, it’s coming. 18+ Thoughts: “You need a spanking” “Let me worship you” “Moan my name”

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Two🧚🏾:

Who: You know them. Yes, it’s them. I know you’re tired of hearing about them, but listen—you need to talk to this person. They don’t want to let go. They can’t let you go. It’s you; it has to be you. Wow, someone’s spiraling.This person is losing their mind over you. You might be ignoring them, a little taste of the silent treatment huh? They can’t handle it. Now it’s clear they have no power, and by the way they are reacting, they know time is up? You’ve given a lot of time/chances to this person. It’s funny how karma works, all that time wasted on them is now being repaid by constant obsession and insecurity when it comes to their place in your life. Their position is rocky? Do they even still have one?

Where: I don’t know if this person is blocked, but they’ve spent an insane amount of time in their Notes app, trying to come up with the best way to start a conversation. Adding you on social media with fake accounts? This is actually wild. I don’t feel like they’re dangerous—they just seem desperate for your attention and approval. They seem determinated? Needing to know what you are doing, with whom? This person is unwell. Pile two this is your next relationship reading, but you don’t have to make space for someone in your life when they are in this state. Also you don’t even have to date them, but they have a huge pull on your energy, frantikly trying to hold onto you. They regret not telling you how they felt, how much you mattered. They don’t know why they tried so hard to make you feel like you didn’t. Omgggg this is actually hurting my head.

When: I think you haven’t talked to this person in a while, and that’s the problem. Paranoia has had time to grow, and now it’s like a virus. They’re losing sleep over this. It’s like all those times they tried desperately not to think about you—and succeeded—are coming back to haunt them. And they’re not letting go 18+ Thoughts: “ I want to make it up to you in bed” “Answer my calls” “I miss you caressing me”

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Three🍀:

Who: You don’t know this person yet. They’re really tall and love earthy colors—green looks amazing on them. This person is crafty and loves spending time in nature. They have this quiet confidence. Where does it come from? From knowing exactly who they are. They are secure in themselves and it shows in the way they walk, talk, breath.lol. This person has a strange effect on you, they feel like a warm blanket, and this feeling is constant. No roller coaster. As if you were spending the early mornings on a beach watching the sun rise. This is finally a love that doesn’t take anything from you, it just adds to your life.

Where: This will happen outside on a summer day—maybe in a garden or a park. This person sees you reading? LOL, they quickly Google the book on their phone before approaching. Smart one! This person knows what they want and doesn’t play games. They’re also excellent cooks! You could meet them at a class someone invites you to—you’re trying it out for free. This person feels so refreshing, they are exactly what you need when you meet them. They see you and already start plotting, They don’t look like it tho. With their dazzling smiles. I’m getting surfer boy energy lol. They seem so zen, so at peace, and this energy will rub off on you.

When: They’re slow-moving, and your paths haven’t aligned yet. I’m hearing that both of you need to make some lifestyle changes before being united. This one is really up to divine timing but it is worth it.

18+ Thoughts: “Let’s break the bed.” “Let me tie you up.” “I want to make you c*m”

✨Psst check my masterlist if you want more readings from me !✨

#tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #astrology #spiritual journey #18+ tarot #divination #tarot witch #pick a card reading #daily tarot

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ckret2 · 2 months ago

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due to stuff involving a goat, the only thing that can save the pines family is sticking bill cipher in a cute dress, doing weird 70's things to his hair, slapping makeup on him, and sending him to flirt with a government agent

and if that ain't a setup for a chapter i don't know what is

anyway here's chapter 86 of this thing.

####

"Something about this is just wrong," Stan said. "It isn't natural."

"Oh, I don't know," Ford said, grinning. "I think it's funny."

Without looking over, trying not to move his lips, Bill said, "I'd like to see you do better."

It was still a few minutes until the Mystery Shack opened for the day, and he and Mabel were sitting in the kitchen, with Bill miserably wearing a mis-buttoned Hawaiian shirt so he wouldn't mess up his makeup when he changed into his flirting uniform. The makeup supplies Pacifica had sent them home with yesterday were spread out on the kitchen table, and they were collaboratively trying to remember how to recreate the look Pacifica had given Bill yesterday. Thus far, they'd managed moisturizer and foundation and were debating the finer points of concealer color theory.

"I didn't say it's bad," said Ford, whose opinions on makeup only fell into three categories: obviously hideous; fine, I guess; and potentially magical sigils for ritual purposes. "It's just bizarre watching you care about it."

Bill mumbled, "I'm blending in with the Nacirema." Ford barked a laugh. (About time somebody got it.)

Stan elbowed Ford. "What's a Nacirema?"

"It's— There's this phenomenon in anthropology— I'll explain it later."

Stan grumbled to himself about the nerds enabling each other, then said, "Hey. When you do the lipstick, don't make it look too good. If it looks too good, he'll assume you're out of his league and get suspicious when you start hitting on him. I never trust attention from a lady whose lipstick isn't at least a little cakey."

Offended, Mabel said, "Grunkle Stan, I'm an artiste! I can't do a bad job on purpose!"

Bill said, "It doesn't matter! Once I get my seduction hat on, he won't even glance at my face." He poked the top hat sitting on the kitchen table.

"Oh, no you don't," Stan said. "Hat's gotta go, it's too tall. Guys hate it when their dates are taller than them."

"What?!" Bill stared at Stan, aghast. "You've gotta be insane! The hat's essential—"

"Hold still!" Mabel poked his neck with the butt of a makeup brush.

He reluctantly gave up and turned to face her again, but not without muttering to himself, "Can't wear a seduction hat, can't stick my hand in a goat's stomach acid, god forbid women do anything."

Last night's hunt for Gompers had been an abysmal failure—Dipper and Mabel had never even glimpsed him. This morning, beneath the banter, there was a somber air in the room; the household was trying not to think about the fact that their collective safety was resting on Bill's ability to seem appealing to a normal man in spite of the fact that they were having a conversation, and he wasn't even able to convincingly pretend he had a plan.

Dipper was trying to get breakfast around Bill and Mabel. Once Mabel had puffed on a layer of setting powder, Bill twisted around to give Dipper an unnecessarily wide smile. "Hey! How do I look?"

He glanced up from pouring a bowl of cereal and grimaced. "Somehow even less like a real human than usual."

Bill laughed. "Yep, it's the lack of pores." He turned away to check his mirror as he applied his mascara.

Mabel said, "He'll look better once we get the lipstick on."

Soos ducked in from the living room. "Hey, uh, guys?" It was clear he'd been as distracted that morning as the rest of them; he'd misbuttoned his suit jacket. "I just saw the government dudes' car again. Like, in the parking lot this time, not lurking down the street."

The energy in the air changed, like a subtle electric current shooting through the room. "Okay, enough gawking at the freak show," Stan said. "Ford?"

"Right!" He grabbed up his coffee mug, re-thought it, and poured the mug back in the coffee pot and picked up the pot instead, then bolted from the kitchen. He returned a moment later with his arms loaded with his journal, several books, and a couple of guns that would definitely be illegal on Earth if Earth had ever heard they existed. "Basement."

Bill turned toward the doorway so fast Mabel almost smeared lipstick across his cheek. Basement? He hoped Ford meant his study. If they went all the way to the basement, and noticed that somebody had been moving around the rubble of the portal...

"Bill!" Mabel said.

"I know, I know." He turned back to her again.

A final line, and Mabel sighed in relief. "Okay, you're good."

Stan rummaged through the fridge for the first thing he could find to sustain himself and Ford for the day. "Hey, demon. Remember everything I taught you."

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. "Don't claim I have a job he can fact-check, don't pretend I make more money than him unless I want him to invite me to a fancy restaurant and pretend he forgot his wallet, if he asks my age I'm fifteen years younger than him, my human family lives across the country, I don't have any sisters that might be prettier, and there's nothing I wanna hear about more than World War 2 battle tactics or vintage car repair or whatever hobby he's picked up to make himself feel more masculine."

"And?" Mabel prompted.

"And my favorite animal is cats, my favorite color is pink, my favorite flavor is chocolate, my favorite film genre is not slapstick snuff, my favorite time to get married is next week, and my favorite body part on a partner is their eyes still inside their sockets, but if I specify the socket part it'll worry him."

"Right! Gold star!" She smacked a sticker onto his shirt.

Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Knock 'im dead," he said. "Not literally. Unless you're sure the other two won't catch you."

"I'll see what I can do," Bill said.

####

The three agents eyed the sign that had been set up outside the Mystery Shack's main door. It said, "Self-guided tour today! $15" and there was a cardboard box taped beneath with a slit cut in the lid.

Agent Dale said, "Do you think that's for us?"

"Probably not," Trigger said uncertainly. "We have a warrant."

"Huh." Dale reread the sign, then tentatively rummaged through his pocket for his wallet and pulled out three fives. Trigger pushed his hand back down.

Soos ran around the side of the shack, breathing heavily. "Oh, wow! What a... totally random coincidence... running into you guys again..." He put his hands on his knees, huffing. "Gimme a sec. I was... running pretty fast... for no reason."

"Mr. Ramirez," Powers said. He held out a search warrant. "We're here to search this building for missing government property."

"Oh, dude, that's crazy," Soos said. "Do you like, have evidence that this property is in the building? Like, I don't know, any kind of... signal that it's giving off, maybe? That confirms it's here?"

Powers turned to Dale. He pulled his tablet out to check. "Uhhh... negative, sir. We're nnnot detecting the signal we picked up yesterday."

Powers frowned. "Hmm."

Trigger said, "Maybe the signal's... on the fritz?"

"Good point," Powers said. "We'd better search anyway. Dale, you start in the museum; Trigger, come with me to the back. I'll interview Mr. Ramirez." He gave Soos a sharp look. "And I hope you'll have more to say today than that you don't know anything."

Soos swallowed hard.

####

From the living room couch, Soos called to Trigger, "Be careful with the stuff in here, okay? This old shack's full of priceless antiques and authentic exotic curios. I glued half of them together myself!"

"So." Powers took a seat in one of the armchairs, opened an unlabeled manila folder and propped it on his knee, and clicked out a retractable pen. "Jesús Ramirez, correct? You prefer 'Soos'?"

"Yep, that's right," Soos said. "When I started school, my cousin Reggie, he'd yell at me across the cafeteria to sit with him, like, 'Jesús!' But some of the kids in my grade thought he was saying, 'hey, Soos!' And it stuck."

Powers nodded slowly. "I... see. And, you're the head of the household."

"Yup! That's me!"

"Property records say that the house is owned by 'Stanford Pines'?"

"Uhhh, yeah," Soos said. "He kinda, stepped down as head of the house, unofficially, and I'm running the house now. Also the business."

"And where is Stanford Pines right now?"

"Oh, he's out." (They had agreed that under no circumstances could the agents talk to Stan, lest something from last summer come up; and they definitely couldn't talk to the real Stanford Pines, whom they already knew as a mysterious superior officer from Washington.)

"When will he be back?"

Soos hesitated. "Ooout of the country. World traveling. Yeah, haha, he's been doing that for the past year with his brother."

Powers flipped a couple pages forward in his file. "His brother Sherman? Who lives in New Jersey?"

"No no, his other brother."

His other brother who died thirty years ago?"

Soos paused. "Uhhh..."

Dale ducked into the living room. "Sirs—I've found something interesting. You have to come see this."

Powers got to his feet, closing his folder and tucking it under his arm. "Excuse me." He followed his agents.

Soos heaved a sigh of relief.

"Wow, Questiony,—you were this close to collapsing like a house of cards."

Bill sauntered down the stairs. He was in a dress covered in yellowy-orangey triangles that managed, for the first time all summer, to reveal that he did in fact have curves, and he'd grabbed a set of green triangular clip-on earrings from Mabel's jewelry. A gold star sticker had been stuck on one of the earrings. Soos thought it was kinda weird to look at him all dressed up, with hair and everything. Bill looked like if Bill had a sister.

"Man," Soos said, slumping back into the couch. "I don't know if I can take another round of that. They're using some kind of government interrogation mind tricks."

"Relax," Bill said. "I'll take it from here."

He shut one eye and shot Soos a pair of finger guns as he backed into the gift shop, and twirled around to go pursue his prey.

####

Dale jogged through the gift shop, nodding to a couple of tourists as he passed—"Morning, ladies"—and ducked through the "employees only" door. A moment later, all three agents jogged into the museum. An older woman asked, "Why are so many handsome men in suits running around?"

As Bill let himself into the gift shop, he said, "Secret government agents! They're here investigating a conspiracy."

"Oh my," the woman gushed. "Isn't that exciting!"

"They'll only be here today! See if you can get their autographs!" Bill leaned on the front counter. "Hey, nice to see you back. You were missed yesterday."

Melody gave him an irritated look from behind the register.

"Surprised you came in, after how you felt yesterday!" In part because Soos was attempting to get as many people away from the shack and out of the danger zone as possible. He'd told Wendy she could take the day off, he'd persuaded Abuelita to go visit Reggie and his wife, and he'd tried to talk the kids into hanging out somewhere else for the day and only relented when they argued that their plucky 13-year-old adventuring expertise could be useful if things took a turn for the worse. Surely, he'd asked his fiancée to stay home too; strange that she hadn't. "Word is you're having trouble sleeping. Bad dreams? If it is, I could help you out. I happen to be an expert on—"

"I don't want your help." Her voice was a lot more venomous than Bill had expected.

He blinked in surprise. He knew she wasn't his biggest fan, but that seemed unnecessarily hostile. "Whoa, just offering! Don't bite my head off. Those don't grow back."

Melody sighed. "Sorry," she said insincerely, looking away from him. "I just... This whole plan bothers me. Flirting with some poor guy just to distract him."

Don't lie to a liar, girl. Something else was bothering her. Still, Bill only said, "Do you have a better plan?"

"Yeah? Just don't do anything suspicious and make sure Gompers stays away from the shack until the agents get bored and leave."

Bill scoffed. "And if they don't get bored?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Why would they? This town's got gnomes, fairies, and a crashed spaceship."

"Well—yeah, but, that's not a reason to focus on the shack."

"Never underestimate what the government will chuck tax dollars at without a good reason!"

Melody huffed, "Okay, fine. I still don't like it."

Yeah, Bill bet she didn't. Especially with the Bureau of Covert Investigations here looking for someone dangerous.

Okay—he'd given the eagles enough of a head start for it to look natural when he casually bumped into them. He straightened up, stretched, and sauntered toward the museum's curtain. "I won't ask you to wish me luck—" he lifted one wrist toward Melody and shook the bracelet covered in evil eye beads that Mabel had given him, "—just don't wish me ill." And then he followed the agents into the museum.

####

"Here it is," Dale said, stopping. "What do you make of this?"

He was standing in front of the museum's taxidermy Sascrotch display.

Trigger covered his mouth, trying to hold back a snort of laughter.

Dale grinned. "It's pretty great, right?"

Powers looked the Sascrotch up and down. "I don't get it."

"Heeey, secret agent man!" Bill swept into the museum and leaned against the wall, head propped against his hand, other hand on his cocked hip. "Imagine meeting you three days in a row, what a coincidence! I'm starting to feel like you're following me around."

Powers looked at Bill—and then started a little. (Not used to seeing him with his eyes emphasized properly, no doubt.) His cheeks immediately turned pink. Flustered, he stammered awkwardly for a moment before getting out, "I—I—Pardon me, I can assure you, you're not under investigation—" Dale and Trigger exchanged a glance and tried not to grin.

"Hey, whoa! I didn't mean it in a bad way." He flashed Powers his best smile. (He'd practiced in the mirror. Mabel had given him tips on not making it too wide.) "Say, since I was lucky enough to see you again, I've got a question for you, secret agent man."

"Yes?"

Bill batted his long, gorgeous lashes at Powers. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or am I gonna have to arrange a fourth meeting?"

"Uhh." Powers's already stellar posture somehow found a way to straighten a little bit more. "The first three times were more than sufficient, ma'am."

"Haha, you charmer!" All right, maybe Mabel had had a point about not opening up with a line about eyeballs. Still, this would be a cinch. Bill had been manipulating humans for millennia, and flirting was no different. Slipping into this role felt natural. He was in his element. He was good at this. He'd have this guy eating out of his hand in an hour.

Dale and Trigger looked at each other again, and Dale said, "Sir, maybe Trigger and I should search the house. You can take the museum."

"Maybe you could interview the locals," Trigger threw in, before they beat a hasty retreat.

"Ho—hold on!" Powers said; but his agents had already abandoned him. What terrific wingmen. Not the best agents, maybe.

"Sooo," Bill said, "if you aren't here to see me, what brings you by this old dump of a tourist trap again? It can't be the displays." He tugged out the waistband of Sascrotch's briefs with a finger and let go, letting it snap back against its waist; a small cloud of dust puffed out of the fur. "Still looking for some dangerous character?"

"No, not at the moment. Nothing you need to worry about," Powers said. "We're here looking for some... sensitive objects?"

"Oh? What kind of sensitive objects?" Bill asked. "I've been to this little tourist trap a few times, maybe I can help find 'em?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."

"What, you don't think you can trust me?" Bill batted his lashes. That had been working pretty well for him so far. (The mascara had to be helping. Man, was he glad to have mascara again.)

Powers avoided making eye contact. "I"m sure you're very trustworthy. But—it would be an embarrassment to the bureau, you understand."

"Sure! Sure." Billl's smile wilted slightly. "Well—I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I just watch, would you? I've never seen a real federal investigation in action—seems exciting."

Powers hesitated, his professionalism warring with his very obvious crush. "I... suppose I wouldn't mind." Sure, like he wasn't utterly flattered.

As Powers's inspection took him around the museum and back into the gift shop, he said, "You said your name was Goldie? I don't think I ever got your last name."

Oh he'd better not be planning on a background check. "It's Locke—and yes, I've already heard every comment about it you can imagine."

Powers gave him a quizzical look. "I believe you told us to inform Mr. Gleeful that a 'Mr. Locke' had recommended we purchase a car from him?"

He had said that, hadn't he. If he'd known two days ago he'd have to femme up for this guy... "Sure! I happen to be related to a lot of Mr. Lockes!" Before Powers could pry into this family Bill had just invented, he hurried on: "Say, I never got your name, did I!" Did he? Since he already knew it, he couldn't remember if he'd bothered to ask.

"Of course—I'm Agent Powers."

"Is 'Agent' your first name, handsome?"

Powers flushed a little more, and he mumbled, "Manny."

"Manny Powers?" Bill casually slid between Powers and the vending machine to keep him from looking too close at it. "Like, 'manpower'?"

"Precisely," Powers said. "Obviously, that's... not my real name, just my assigned codename for field assignments."

Bill laughed, "Hey, not bad! 'Manpower,' that's pretty funny."

"Is it?" Powers asked. "Hm. It isn't supposed to be. I'll have to speak with HQ about that."

Bill pressed his lips together. Tell him he's funny, Bill! Guys love it when you tell them how funny they are! Last time hetook advice from a human on anything. He shot an exasperated look toward Melody, who winced in what he hoped was sympathy.

Trigger ducked into the gift shop. "Sir? I think we've found something. Really, this time."

Powers's attention snapped to him. "Show me."

Bill maintained his position until the agents were gone; and then he let out a long, frustrated sigh. He glanced at Melody. "How are we doing?"

She grimaced. "I'd give it... three out of five stars?"

"You're generous, I appreciate that." He nearly rubbed his eyelids in irritation, and only the sight of his red fingernails reminded him of his makeup in time to stop.

In his heart of hearts, Bill felt like he should have already won by now—but then, he'd always hated waiting for things. Usually he could force patience on himself by finding a peephole that would let him see further into the future so he could tell exactly when his latest plan would succeed. In this body, he couldn't see any farther than a few minutes, and he didn't have any eyes he could look through but his own. Like this, he didn't even know whether he'd succeed.

Except of course he would. Of course. He always did. He didn't need to check. He had until the agents left to make some real progress, and that was plenty of time. He'd figure this out.

He almost backed into the living room, remembered at the last second that he didn't want Melody to know about his door ignoring trick, and said flatly, "Door." Melody reluctantly left her station to help open it.

In the living room, Dale was standing on top of the table, which he'd dragged over in front of the TV, and attempting to pry a board out of the ceiling with a crowbar. He asked Soos, "You're sure you don't have a stepladder somewhere?"

"Uh-uh," Soos said. He was hovering in the doorway, wringing his hands together. "It's against the house rules."

"We picked up a faint radio signal," Trigger explained to Powers. "Like from a walkie-talkie with a dying battery, or..."

"Ah-ha!" Dale pulled a gray blocky object out of a space over the ceiling. It appeared to be a radio: it had an antenna, a speaker, a couple of glowing lights flickering on the brink of going out... and a large Bureau of Covert Investigations seal stamped on the front. The eagle peering through the magnifying glass seemed as surprised to see them as they were to see it. "Is... is this one of our transmitters?"

Powers blinked at it in amazement. "What in the Sam Hill is one of our transmitters doing in this building!" He directed the question toward Soos.

Soos flinched. "How should I know, I didn't know this place was bugged! I would've unbugged it if I knew." He paused. "Unless that's a federal crime or something. In which case forget I said that."

"We're the guys that oughta know about it," Dale said, shrugging cluelessly. "Since it's one of ours. Weird."

Powers held his hand out for the transmitter, examined it, and turned it over. On the back a strip of black label-maker tape read, "GOVERNMENT PROPERTY! IF LOST, PLEASE RETURN TO AGENT TRIGGER."

Powers and Dale turned to Trigger.

He looked between them, baffled. "Wh— Well, I didn't put it there! I would've remembered putting it there." He frowned. "I mean... I should remember putting it there."

Powers's lips were pressed so flat together they were almost invisible beneath his mustache. "Well. Obviously, we ought to take it back."

Tentatively, Dale asked, "And... place a new one with a fresh battery, sir?"

Powers's brows drew together in anger. Between gritted teeth, he said, "Not with the civilians listening to you say so..."

Soos was still standing in the doorway, and Dipper and Mabel were peering around him from the staircase. Melody had peeked in nervously from the gift shop. At the callout, the kids and Melody had the grace to withdraw again. But Powers wasn't looking at them. He was glancing sideways toward Bill, standing right by his side—and Bill's wide-eyed gaze never wavered from Powers's face.

This wasn't good—they did not need the agents trying to figure out why they might have left a bug in the shack. Damage control time. "Hey," Bill said. "if you forgot about it completely, must not have picked up anything interesting, right? Otherwise you'da remembered it!"

All three agents' faces immediately darkened and they exchanged meaningful looks. Bill didn't like it when people exchanged meaningful looks he didn't know the meaning of. "Apparently so," Powers muttered.

"I'll just... take this to the car," Trigger said.

Soos backed out of the way to give him room to leave, then trailed after him: "So, are there any other bugs in here we should probably know about...?"

Bill waited until Trigger was already out of the house before he said to Dale, "Hey, does he have the car keys?"

"Oh!" Dale patted his pockets, then hurried out. "Trigger, wait!"

Once his agents were gone, Powers grumbled to himself, "'Place a new one.' What happened to professionalism." He rubbed his forehead. "Find one bug that you mysteriously don't know about, and everyone forgets how to act like government agents..."

He trailed off, giving Bill an uneasy sideways glance. Bill was still staring full force at him. He cleared his throat. "You... have an incredibly penetrating gaze, ma'am."

"Thanks! Keep talking like that and maybe it'll penetrate you," Bill really wanted to say, but didn't; "flirtatious euphemisms that could be about stabbing" and "comments that put the fear of the cruel ever-watching All-Seeing Eye of God in you" were both on Bill's list of banned topics. Instead, he tried, "Thanks! You're incredibly easy to look at!"

"O-oh." Powers adjusted his tie self-consciously. Getting a little hot under the collar, huh. "Am I?"

"You bet! In fact, I was just thinking you really look like dad material."

"That's... kind of you to say," Powers said. "However, I've never liked children."

"Oh." Bill shut his eyes until the urge to turn somebody's bones into thumbtacks subsided. "Sure, that's fine. I can take 'em or leave 'em."

"Sir?" Trigger called from the doorway. "What's our next move?"

"Excuse me." Powers left Bill, heading out to join his agents on the porch.

Bill drifted out to the entryway. Mabel and Dipper were huddled on the stairs. Bill shot Mabel a pained look and hissed, "How could you have steered me so wrong?"

"Sorryyy," she whispered back. "I thought the dad one was a winner!"

"I trusted you, star girl." He slid outside behind Powers just before the door swung shut.

And just before Soos came back in, looking stricken. Dipper asked, "What happened?"

"The agent with the movie star face asked what days the museum's closed," Soos said. "I think they're thinking about searching it more? And, he told me not to leave town? I can't take this, dude." A wild look had entered his eyes. "I'm not cut out for prison. I'm too gentle-hearted!"

"Shhh." Melody took his arm and gently led him away from the door, rubbing his back. "It's gonna be all right, Soos. It sounds like the agents are distracted. Why don't we close the museum early for lunch and try looking for Gompers again, okay? Maybe he's ready to come home. And we can get some fresh air, yeah?"

"Yeah." Soos took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right." He turned toward Dipper and Mabel. "Can you dudes handle the gift shop while we're out?"

"Sure thing, Soos, no problem," Dipper said. "You go ahead."

The twins waited until they heard the sound of the gift shop exit door closing, then Dipper said, "Not it."

"Me neither," Mabel said.

"The gift shop customers can take care of themselves for a few minutes." Dipper opened the back door a crack, and they both crowded against it. Bill—leaning on the wall next to the door with his arms crossed—glanced at the kids through the crack, raised a couple fingers in acknowledgement, and then all three listened to the agents on the porch:

"Well, obviously the flash drive signal wasn't a fluke. They must have hidden it since yesterday."

"We can't leave until we find it and figure out what's happening here." (Bill made a mental note to lord that over Melody later.) "What are our next steps?"

"Should we request more sensitive equipment to scan for electronics? There might be other transmitters in the building with completely dead batteries we're not picking up." (That seemed like a fast way to discover the door hidden behind the vending machine.)

"Maybe we ought to run some more background checks on the rest of the people here. How many of them have we checked out?"

A jolt of fear shot up Bill's spine. And that seemed like a fast way to discover that "Goldie Locke" didn't legally exist. "All right," he muttered through the crack. "I tried this the human way. Now I'm doing it my way."

"Wait," Dipper hissed, "Bill, no! What are you planning?!"

Bill ignored him as he sidled up to Powers. "Not heading out already, are you?"

Powers said, "As soon as Trigger finishes updating HQ." Trigger had walked off the porch and was now making a phone call. Dale surreptitiously scooted to the other end of the porch to give Powers and Bill room to talk.

"Aww, too bad. I was enjoying watching a real investigation at work!"

"Hm. I'm afraid you didn't see us at our most competent," Powers muttered.

"Hey, everyone has an off day or two." Bill leaned closer, just near enough for his bare arm to brush Powers's suit sleeve, and murmured, "And, anyway—not to bad-mouth these rookies, but even on a bad day it's already pretty clear you're the smartest guy in the room. I can only imagine how fascinating it'd be to watch you at work when you're bringing your A game."

Powers cleared his throat, obviously trying not to look flustered. "Well. Yes. We'll no doubt be around a few more days. Perhaps we'll... cross paths again...?"

Not good. Too passive. By now, this sucker was supposed to be falling all over himself to ask out the mysterious blonde. Bill could probably ask him out and it'd go fine—but he wasn't sure how attached this guy was to traditional gender roles, there was a chance it could turn him off.

(That was the excuse he told himself. In truth, part of him was getting mad. He wanted to be the one who was asked out. He should be asked out. He was more than good enough to be asked out, and this over-evolved eukaryote had no right to deny him that.)

He pressed, "Still, I hate to see you go. Three times I've run into you, and I hardly know any more about you than I did on the beach! I get that being mysterious comes with the whole secret agent territory—but I've been going crazy, wondering all night about this handsome stranger in town." He put just the slightest emphasis on all night—and threw in a wink for good measure.

"H... have you?" Powers turned to face Bill fully. "Well... some of my personal information is classified, given the nature of my work, but—what do you want to know?"

"For starters, I think I'm overdue to ask you whether you're single!"

"I—Yes, I am."

"Whaddaya know—something we have in common!" Bill pretended he had to think a moment before saying, "Hmm... Hey, here's another fun little get-to-know-you question: what conspiracy would you most hate to be true?"

(Through the ajar crack in the door, he could hear Mabel loudly whisper, "Bill nooo...")

"That's a fascinating question. I've often wondered it myself." Powers stared off into the distance, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose... I think I'd most hate to find out the government has tried to brainwash its own citizens. Not just propaganda, mind—that's fine—I mean actual brainwashing."

No way. Bill had to pin his lips between his teeth to keep from bursting out laughing. Somebody had forgotten to tell this guy about MKUltra. Wow. Wow. He worked for the Bureau of Covert Investigations. How did he miss MKUltra. Bill had to grope behind himself for the porch sofa and sit before he lost his balance from fighting not to laugh. When he was sure he could manage a few words without a giggle escaping, he squeaked, "Yeah, that—sounds... pretty bad."

"What about yours?" Powers turned toward Bill.

He had to quickly prop his elbow on the armrest and prop his chin in his hand to hide his mouth, pretending to think. He hoped his amusement wasn't showing elsewhere on his face—human faces had too many muscles to keep track of. "Mm! Hmm." While he was trying to get his laughter under control, Bill tried to pick out one of the countless conspiracies in his repertoire that was obscure enough to be impressive but not obscure enough to be suspicious. (Or "obscure" enough Powers didn't know about it—hello, MKUltra.) "Wow, there's—there's a lot that'd be terrible. But hey, as long as we're talking politics—" (Mabel hissed "Bill NO!") "—I've heard a rumor in the area that there's a secret crazy president that was kicked out and covered up in the history books, ever heard about that one?" That oughta grab his attention.

But to Bill's surprise, Powers frowned thoughtfully and slowly shook his head. "No, it's unfamiliar. It must be a local theory," he said. "If the government were to cover up an entire presidency, I'm sure they would have a pressing reason for it—but I do see how the concept would be alarming."

Bill stared at him. Did this guy not know anything the government was up to?! He should have been going out of his mind trying to figure out how Bill knew about Trembley. Powers wasn't the kind of agent who could tell decent lies. If he did know something, he wouldn't play dumb like that; he'd just tell Bill it was "classified." Did he really not know? But the eagles' search for Trembley's remains should have nothing to do with the memories Ford wiped from the agents' minds.

The Bureau of Covert Investigations was so covert, agents usually weren't even told about other bureau investigations they weren't personally part of. So...

Was the bureau running two investigations in Gravity Falls?

Had Powers not been looped into the Trembley case?

"Uh..." Bill scrambled to think of another conspiracy that might catch Powers's interest. (He and Trigger had mentioned Hangar 618; no wonder they had time to work on cases across the country if they were only handling half the active investigations in Gravity Falls—no, focus, focus.) "How about Big Fashion, have you heard of that one? The theory that the fashion industry's teaming up to take down ways for people to get clothes other than buying new. Thrift shops, fabric stores, sewing pattern companies..."

Powers nodded. "I'm familiar with the theory." (Oh good—Bill would've been embarrassed for him if he hadn't known that one.) "I'm afraid I haven't paid close attention to the evidence for it. I already buy all my clothes new—I don't like the thought of another man's skin cells lingering on the inside of my shirts, it feels unsanitary."

It was no wonder this guy had been assigned to Gravity Falls. Bill doubted he was weird enough to really fit in here—but he was just odd enough to feel the town's pull. "For starters, there's the assassination of the president of Valhalla Sewing Machines a few years ago. Sewing machines are one of Big Fashion's top targets."

"Something definitely happened there," Powers agreed, "but all evidence points to the hit being ordered by Crooner Company over their rival line of sewing machines. They did acquire Valhalla just a few months later."

"And Crooner's been battling the bad PR ever since," Bill said dismissively. "Neither company came out of that mess looking good. It was an obvious false flag operation!"

Powers frowned, and for a moment Bill worried that he'd said too much—that Powers either thought Bill sounded like a crackpot, or thought Bill knew too much for some small town civilian... but he said, approvingly, "You know your stuff."

Jackpot. Time to go in for the kill. "I try to! I'm interested in how the gears of the universe turn. Reality, society, politics, business—what greases those wheels? Who winds the clock? There's a lot going on underneath the surface. And I like to keep my eye on all of it." He lowered his voice. "Actually, I'm glad to see you in town. I've also felt like something's going on under the surface of this town, but..." He left the sentence dangling.

Slowly, Power said, "Something... paranormal, perhaps?"

"Ha! Between the Mystery Shack here and that 'child psychic' in town, that's the reputation Gravity Falls has now," Bill said. "I'm not the kind of gullible dope to get spooked by ghost stories without proof. But—whatever's going on here... it does feel spooky."

Powers nodded slowly. "Whenever I'm in this town, I have the exact same thoughts."

Bill fought to keep the triumph off his face.

####

Dipper whispered, "I can't believe this is working."

He and Mabel were crammed against the door, one on top of each other, listening to Bill say, "This has been a fascinating conversation. I'd love to hear more about your work... wink."

Dipper said, "I can't believe this is working even though he says 'wink' out loud."

Mabels shushed him. "Bill's doing great!"

Powers said, "Unfortunately, I do have to go submit my own report to headquarters. But, I'm free this evening. If you'd like to see a movie, or...?"

Mabel gasped. "Idea!" She tapped on the door's window to catch Bill's attention, and, when he glanced her way, she pointed out toward the clearing beyond the porch.

Bill looked at the clearing and twitched in surprise. Through the crack in the door, Dipper tried to see what Bill was looking at. He couldn't see anything in the clearing.

Bill turned to Powers. "Howsabout dinner? There's a diner in town called Greasy's. I've heard good things about it! For starters, that the food is better than the name."

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Wait, hold on—he's not allowed to go out, is he?" But Mabel didn't answer; she was sprinting full speed up the stairs.

From the far end of the porch, Dale said, "Oh, Greasy's is terrific, I went there yesterday for lunch. Makes a damn fine cup of coffee. And try the cherry pie."

"Very well," Power said. "When should I...?"

"I'll meet you at the diner. Let's say seven."

When the agents had left, Dipper yanked open the door. "What was that?! Nobody said you could actually leave to go on a date!"

Bill shrugged. "It wasn't my idea, it was your sister's."

"What?" Dipper frowned. "When did she say that?"

"She didn't. She's going to."

Mabel pounded down the stairs, counting the steps under her breath—"twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty eight"—carrying a neon yellow posterboard folded loosely in half. She ran out the door to the clearing behind the shack, held up the posterboard—she'd written "♡ INVITE HIM TO GREASY'S ♡" in thick black marker—and announced, "Ta-da!"

"You're too late," Dipper said. "Bill already asked Powers and he already left."

Bill said, "I asked him because I saw her telling me to."

Dipper looked between Bill and the poster. "Ohhh. Hang on. This is a future sight thing?"

"Bingo."

"How long should I hold it up?" Mabel called.

"Just give it another ten seconds," Bill said. "That thing's fluorescent, I could probably see it from an hour away."

She bounced on the balls of her feet for a few more seconds, then said, "Okay!" and jogged back to the porch, beaming from ear to ear. "That was so cool."

"Hey, smart girl!" Bill caught Mabel's sleeve before she could run past him. "You know, I've been talking to humans for thousands of years, and you're the first who's ever sent a message backwards in time to me?"

"Really?" Her face lit up. "Shut up! There's no way I'm the first-first!"

"Hand on heart, Shooting Star, no other human's ever tried it," Bill said. "You can't even see the fourth dimension, but you still understand it well enough to send messages through it. I'm genuinely impressed!"

Mabel's delight reached a boiling over point. She cackled in glee, gave Bill a quick hug, and bounded into the living room, crowing, "I'M THE GREATEST!"

Bill watched Mabel zoom into the gift shop, grinning proudly; and then his eyes slid sideways to meet Dipper's. "What's that look for."

Dipper was leveling his best suspicious glare at Bill. "Oh, nothing," he said. "Just thinking about how, the last time I heard you say you were impressed, you were just manipulating me into letting you puppet my body."

"Hmm! Yeah! I did do that!" Bill said. "Did I say I was genuinely impressed?"

Dipper's scowl deepened.

Bill's smirk widened. "C'mon, kid, don't be jealous just because you're not the alpha twin. It'd make your sister feel terrible."

####

"You actually got a date?" Ford asked.

"Sure! As if it's hard!"

Stan smugly held out a hand, palm up. Ford shot him an exasperated look, but sighed, fished around in his pocket, pulled out five large one-dollar coins, and dropped them in Stan's hand.

Bill stared at Ford, brows raised. "I don't know what's more insulting: that you bet against me, or that you've stopped using paper currency." Ford didn't deign to respond.

When they had been absolutely sure the agents were gone—for now—Soos had gone downstairs to let the Stans know the coast was clear; and now the adults were gathered in the living room again to discuss their next moves. Or, rather, Bill's.

Stan said, "So there's still been no sign of Gompers?"

"Nope," Soos said. "He's really run off. Plus, me and Melo—" (at Ford's look, he corrected himself) "—Melody and I drove around earlier looking for him? You know, in case he came out of the woods somewhere? But one of the government guys started following me in a black car? Sooo we had to stop looking, and I guess we're still being watched."

"Which'll make it harder to sneak me out for my date without them noticing I live here," Bill said. Maybe they could sneak him out with the crystal flashlight trick he and Mabel had pulled before, but he'd rather not tell the other Pines how they'd pulled that off in case they ever had to do it again. "We might be able to split 'em up while we outnumber them, but if this goes on for long, they'll bring in reinforcements."

"Ford and I can't help distract them," Stan pointed out. "We've gotta stay inside. And Soos is the only one that can drive Bill to this date. With the kids' help, we've only just got enough people to split the agents up."

Ford muttered, "Meaning there's no one to keep a watch over Bill." He crossed his arms. "Letting Bill flirt with a government agent under our roof is one thing—but I don't like a plan that involves letting Bill out in public and trusting him not to throw us under the bus." (Bill had considered it, but decided it would just cause the government to seize his portal and Mabel to never speak to him again.)

"He wouldn't do that," Soos said hotly—to Bill's surprise. "He already had a chance to run away and he didn't! And if he wanted us to get in trouble, he could have just not helped at all!"

"I..." Ford looked for a moment like he wanted to protest—Bill expected him to protest—but then he grimaced, shut his mouth, and said nothing. There was an even bigger surprise. Bill wasn't actually making progress with Ford, was he? Bill stared at the side of his face, willing him to explain himself; but Ford avoided his gaze.

Stan said, "Listen, I don't like letting him out either, but I don't think we have a choice."

"All right, all right," Ford sighed. "Fine. I don't like it—but unless Gompers shows up in the next few hours, you're still our best hope of getting out of this mess." (Bill decided to pretend that was praise and spent a second basking in it.) "Which means you have to find out everything the agents currently know and suspect, keep them away from anything that could restore their memories, convince them to turn their attention away from our household without the flash drive, andmake sure no one gets arrested. And you've got one date to do it all in."

It was a tall order—but the way Ford said it like a challenge, like he thought maybe Bill couldn't do it, made Bill's blood boil. "Piece of cake! Don't forget it's taken me less time than that to convince you to do a lllot more than that." At Ford's scowl, Bill grinned viciously. "One date's all I need. By the end of the night, I'll have this whole thing figured out." If he said it like he believed it, it was basically true.

####

(The only bits of this that were changed in the wake of TBOB were adding in the discussion about the Seduction Hat; and adding a short section establishing that Powers's team is not involved with the Trembley investigation and briefly mentioning Hangar 618. In the original draft of this chapter, I'd said that a different government department was handling the Trembley case, until TBOB established otherwise. Establishing that Powers's team wasn't on the Trembley case is something that'll be important in future chapters.

From here on out the plot arc speeds up and turns increasingly into some kinda fusion between a spy drama and a reverse heist movie. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts so far and your thoughts on where it's gonna go!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #agent powers #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(this entire plot arc is Bill looking less and less like Bill with each chapter art lmfao)#(he's gonna be so thrilled to crawl back into his triangle hoodie.)

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